#soap mactavish fanfic

[gloomwitchwrites]

Still in love/obsessed ex-husband

A still in love and obsessed ex-husband can be answered in various ways. I thought I'd make this one a little loosey goosey and stretch the definition of "ex-husband" here a tad bit. I also split "still in love" and "obsessed." My personal HC about these characters actions around those two phrases will certainly vary.

Anyway, here are four quick drabbles on the topic (And thank you for your patience as I fulfill requests.)

Find the Imagines & What If Series Masterlist HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): reconciliation, fluff, light angst, suggestive themes, swearing, marriage, strained and established relationships, stalking

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“I still have it.”

“Have what?” you ask.

“Your wedding dress,” answers John.

“I told you to return it. And the ring.”

John shakes his head. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it. Still in my closet.”

“You don’t want to.”

“No.”

“Why?” you ask.

“You know why, love.”

You sigh. “Did you sign the papers?”

“No,” he answers automatically. “Why would I? When you’re clearly still in love with me.”

“John.”

“You promised me an army.”

“I’ve given you three,” you murmur, thinking of your children with him.

John smiles, and you melt. “We can make number four right here.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What’s this?”

“Nothing.”

“Show me.”

You keep your hand behind your back. Johnny grins down at you, one eyebrow raised. Johnny is fast, snagging your arm and bringing your hand into the light.

His gaze drops to the diamond on your finger.

“You still wear it,” he breathes.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, love. It does.” He steps closer, one warm hand cupping your cheek.

You lean into him, not wanting to admit out loud what still holds true in your heart.

“You still love me,” he teases.

“And?” you prompt.

He draws you close. “And I still want you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Signing this won’t change anything. You know this.”

Kyle is right and you hate that he is. Grasping the back of your neck, Kyle threads his fingers through your hair. Twisting. Gripping. Arching your neck.

He draws you forward, lips nearly brushing over yours. “You know I’d burn everything down for you. Walk any distance. I will never be rid of you. Never.”

Kyle’s words are searing. They sit heavy in your chest.

“Do you not feel the same?” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that.”

The divorce papers are scattered across the kitchen table.

You swallow. “Shred them.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is a wraith.

He watches from the shadows. He knows your every step, who you talk to, and what your day looks like. He has always known. Even before you called him husband—and before that boyfriend—Ghost learned your habits.

He sits. Waits.

You glance over your shoulder with no idea how close he is, trying to find his in. Because he will. He will have you.

The current boyfriend will disappear.

Just like the last one.

Because Ghost made it happen.

All he needs is time and then, he can put his ring back on your finger.

Taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[konigsblog]

WARNINGS: NON-CON/DUB-CON, STEPCEST, INTOXICATION, SOMNOPHILLIA. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

to write about stepbrother's johnny, kyle and simon...

all of them being so perverted, yet so predictable. :(

you can't wear a short dress around simon, otherwise he'll bombard you with questions, asking where you think you're going whilst dressed like a hooker! believe him, he's just looking out for you... but, when you come home drunk, attempting to hide in your room, simon is already convincing and coercing you into his bedroom, where he'll demand you to suck him off and let him fuck your tight, little asshole. gripping your soft tits over your short dress, rolled up around your waist as he begins to thrust and grind deep into your swollen, puffy and glistening folds.

you can't wear shorts around johnny because it drives him crazy. even your other stepbrothers will tell you to cover up, because johnny's acting depraved; palming himself in front of everyone, and eyeing you up like a feast. if you do, he'll be humping you constantly, trying to get you to bend over so he can get a nice view of your ass... you may even wake up to johnny rubbing his hard boner over your clothed ass, all drowsy and conditioned, tip soaking your skimpy pajama shorts, thick and milky cum oozing from the head of his achingly hard cock, while he apologises profusely, telling you to go back to sleep, that he'll be quick...

you can't wear anything revealing around kyle, nothing whatsoever, he'll find a way to sexualise you somehow. when you're wearing a low cut top, one that reveals too much cleavage, he can't resist. he'll grope you and kiss your breasts, telling you it's alright for a stepbrother to touch you like this because it's done with protectiveness, making sure you're safe in his arms, the perverted bastard lying straight to your face and being so touchy and perverted.

wearing bikinis? it's like you're asking to be fucked like a whore... :( during a pool party, he'll corner you in the bathroom and have his way with you, fucking your sweet pussy while you tell him it's not alright for a stepbrother to be so depraved with his stepsister!

[lunarduty]

𝙋𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘽𝙀𝘿

☾ sfw & nsfw headcanons for dating soap JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. oral (female receiving). female reader. WC | 2,063 x

SFW

☾ in his mind, he was already your boyfriend before even becoming official. soap is fiercely LOYAL and dedicated - just as soon as he realized the depths of his feelings, he was yours before you even knew it. stopped so much as looking at other people, much less thinking or fantasizing about them. for soap, you were it. he just had to convince you to go out with a guy like him, which is very soap. not always looking before he jumps.

☾ he loves calling himself your boyfriend, or calling you his girl. soap isn’t one to try and make it lowkey or anything. he wouldn’t be unprofessional - disrespecting or making you look bad is the last thing he wants. but soap will insert the fact into mundane little conversations whenever he can. the team quickly gets tired of it long before he does.

“soap, you joining us for drinks after the debrief?” “don’t know,” he says, sounding awfully CHIPPER for someone who might miss out on a night at the pub. “gotta check in with my girl, see if she wants to do anything tonight. missed out on lunch with her, y’know.” he was still beating himself up over that. you kept insisting it was fine - you both have crazy schedules sometimes. but soap didn’t want to make it a habit of blowing you off. gaz nodded like he agreed - soap didn’t think he really got what it meant to be your boyfriend.

☾ his favorite thing in the world is making you laugh, and he does it so easily. and a lot of the time, he doesn’t even mean to. soap can be blunt and cheeky sometimes, and his smart mouth has gotten him in hot water more often than not - but he’s always very happy to make you laugh, even accidentally. always acts kinda proud when his jokes land perfectly. or if he’s not in a great mood, but ends up saying something that makes you laugh, it always brightens his mood.

☾ while he usually finds one petname and sticks with it, soap is known to call you different ones - each worse and more SAPPY than the last. they’re never spoken seriously, he just enjoys seeing your nose wrinkle and look at him as if he just tracked dog shit into the house. it’s one of his favorite ways to tease you without feeling like he’s going too far, like he does with some of his mates.

with his nose buried against your neck, and the slowly thump of your heart vibrating on his chest, soap was damn near close to following you into unconsciousness. it had been a chaotic last few days - the mere chance to cuddle up with you in bed had him relaxed beyond the point of needing a quick fuck to tire him out. at least until you shifted your legs, and your icy toes pressed against his legs. “fuck, lass. toes are fuckin’ freezing,” he hisses against your shoulder. you just hum, not bothering to reply, more interested in finally falling asleep. he hums in return, and condemns himself to the icy torture. “lucky i love ya, my l’il popsicle.” “jesus, johnny.”

☾ generally enjoys going out on dates than staying home. of course, if you’re more of a homebody or he just doesn’t feel up to going out, a home date is perfectly fine with him. but soap likes going out and experiencing things - most of all, he wants to show you off. absolutely loves walking down the street with you on his arm, or you pulled against his side. tries to get some leave every few months so you two can travel somewhere, but usually, soap’s idea of a good date is simply going somewhere and having fun.

☾ gets super soft when you start getting comfortable around him. before the relationship began, you two were good friends - there was already a layer of comfort and familiarity before, but it’s different when you start dating. so one night, when you both are just chilling on the couch, and you start cackling at a joke on the TV or ugly-crying during a sad scene, soap just REVELS in it. he’s heard how far some people go not to show certain sides of themselves to their partners, and he’s super pleased that you don’t feel like you need to do that with him. on the flip side, soap immediately gets super goofy with you right off the bat, so it’s not like you’re alone in your silliness.

☾ don’t think you can outkiss this man. don’t even try to challenge him. soap mactavish is a man made for kissing and he will do it all day if you let him. your eyes in the morning to wake you up, on your cheek before he leaves, your hand after meeting up for lunch, your lips when he gets home at the end of the day, your neck while doing the dishes, your forehead after a good fuck before falling asleep. soap loves being able to kiss you whenever he wants and he takes full advantage of that privilege.

☾ arguments aren’t super common, but they do happen. soap can be stubborn and sometimes doesn’t see the wider picture. he forgets to take your feelings into account. arguments are usually resolved pretty painlessly, since soap knows he can be dumb sometimes and he doesn’t let his pride get in the way of apologizing. even still, he likes to go out of his way when it comes to make ups. he doesn’t like feeling guilty and can go a little overboard in comparison to the argument.

“so, you forgive me yet, bonnie?” “hmm,” you draw out the hum, even if the smile on your face negates the tension, “i haven’t decided yet.” suppressing his own grin, johnny throws his hands up in defeat. reclines back in his chair with a sigh and a shake of his head - always with the theatrics. “yeah, i figured ya say that. but i’ve learned to never enter a battle without a secret weapon.” “making up for a fight is a battle for you, is it?” your question, though a joke, made him pause. “well, no, i didn’t- fuck’s sake, lass. take it easy on me.” johnny stands, his hands clapping together. “i was listenin’, though. i know you feel all alone when i’m gone so much, and i’m sorry. wish i could change it.” of course, you knew he couldn’t just uproot his whole life. some of the things you said during the argument weren’t even exactly how you felt - just something said in the moment. “johnny, hold on, i didn’t mean-” “hey, hey, i’m not done.” he backs away from you toward the bedroom. “last thing i want is you to be here feelin’ all LONELY again. so i got something to fix all that.” he finally turns and makes for the bedroom door. when you stand and follow to watch, you notice how carefully he opened and slid right past. like he didn’t want you coming in. but you realized right away it was because he didn’t want something getting out. “a puppy? john, this is-” “great, right? can cuddle up to him when i’m not here!”

☾ definitely thinks about marriage super early on, but doesn’t really bring it up because he doesn’t wanna come off as weird or creepy. but honestly, soap knew you were the one right away. he’s not out looking at rings or wedding venues - he just kinda ACCEPTS that he’s gonna marry you. might make little jokes or comments here and there. jokingly calls you his wife or “the missus.” so when he eventually does pop the question, he’s a little taken aback when you’re caught off guard. and then he remembers that, oh yeah, he’s always been mentally married to you since basically forever.

NSFW

☾ it’s not hard at all to tell when soap is in the mood. he’s going to get very touchy if you let him - from soft grazes of his fingers along your skin to straight up groping your ass when you walk by. he is an absolute menace when he’s horny. loves coming up behind you when you’re doing something and just squeezing your hips and kissing your neck. grinds his cock against your ass, as if it isn’t painfully obvious how wound up he is.

☾ foreplay with soap is more fun than anything. there are rare moments when he’s silent and serious and focused, but mostly, he likes to keep it light. makes you laugh before sucking on your tits to take your breath away. says some dumb comment when you’re grinding against his thigh to distract you, only to suddenly change pace and laugh when you whimper. he sees sex with you as something to 100% ENJOY and making sure the both of you have fun with it…

☾ …that is until soap gets completely pussy-drunk off you and just shuts the fuck up and enters this kind of tunnel vision when he’s eating you out. it happens a good 60% of the time - he starts out his usual light and teasing self, kissing your thighs, asking you if you want to fuck his mouth. but just as soon as he gets his tongue on your clit and his fingers buried knuckle-deep, it’s so easy for him to just get lost in it. will make you cum twice before he realizes it, and is almost confused when you’re begging him to stop, or at least give you a break. 

“fu- fuck, johnny! i can’t- shit, you need to stop.” those words seem to finally break him of his little trance. your little moans and whimpers of his name are always MELODIC in a way that makes him want to hear more and more. but hearing you ask him to stop makes soap blink and pull his face away - lips parted in his panting, chin glistening. “okay, bonnie?” he asks, a hand squeezing your hip. you’re breathing hard. skin flushed. chin tilted upward with your eyes closed and he wonders just how hard you came. or how many times. “i’m okay,” you answer quickly. “just…need a break. or just fuck me - that works too.” a wide grin spreads over his face, and when he pulls his fingers free, the soft squelching sound almost makes him shiver. “just said the fuckin’ magic words, beautiful.”

☾ not at all picky with positions, so he usually just tries a bunch of different ones or follows your lead. there’s something to enjoy with all of them, so how can he have a favorite? fucking you in missionary gets him on top, where he feels so big and strong and loves feeling you hold onto him like your life depends on it. when you ride him, he gets to watch your face the entire time, or play with your tits, or do anything he wants. getting you in doggy is great when soap is feeling especially FERAL and just wants to drive into you, grabbing your ass, tugging on your hair when he feels like he can’t hear you well enough. gun to his head, he can’t pick just one.

☾ soap does have a preference when he cums. as fucking fantastic as it feels to cum inside you, there’s something otherwordly about pulling out and painting your skin. he saves creampies for slow and sleepy sex (or when you beg for it), but every other time? soap is cumming on your back, your belly, your thighs, your face, your tits. anywhere and everywhere is fair game for him. he’s definitely taken a picture when the sight is too good to leave to memory. eventually deletes them because he doesn’t want them to somehow get out, but not before using it as wank material while he’s away.

☾ very gentle and attentive with aftercare. sex with soap isn’t especially rough or intense most of the time, but he still doesn’t slack on it. kissing you good and proper after you both cum, letting you know just how much he loves you. always gets something to clean you up and talking while he does so - soap is a chatterbox anyway, but more so after sex because he doesn’t want you to start feeling awkward. lots of cuddles and touches when he climbs into bed - but be warned, he does tend to nod off pretty soon.

[blingblong55]

Under the moon -John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a requests: -Your local Johnny slut requests thee a oneshot or longfic (however you choose) for 23 + 5 for Kinktober: Monster AU and Breeding because we all know and love that Johnny's a fucking werewolf. You can sprinkle a bit of pet play and praise here and there. Please and thank you for your consideration 😘 -Idk how to request for the kinktober, but I would like to request Fem Reader x Soap for no.15 & no.23, please? Tq!! --- F!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, praise, pet play, breeding, monster au, werewolf au, established!relationship, doggy style ----

Ever since he told you that he is a werewolf, he has been loving to fuck your tight pussy when he knows it's time to rub his scent on you again. He knows so much about your body with just one sniff, he can feel when you are about to start ovulating, which makes him feral, and he turns into his werewolf self for it. You are cooking in the kitchen? He walks behind you and dry humps you until you turn around and that's when he tears your clothes apart, revealing your perfect pussy lips to him.

His cock is already hard from just watching you whimper. "Johnny-" You want to stop it but it is too good to be stopped. His hand travel all over your thighs, he sits you on the countertop and fucks his fingers into you. Wants to open your pretty cunt up for his massive cock. The veiny and throbbing length is already eager to fill you with his seed. He spreads your legs open and kisses your neck, you're wet and aching cunt fucking yourself into his fingers. He growls, "Don't move," he demands. You pout and he grins, cupping your chin and bringing your lips closer to his. His spit well into your mouth.

When the moon is full, he can't resist, all day he stays home and tries to fuck you atlas a few times. He is so horny he begins to whimper and get needy when you don't touch him or don't acknowledge him. "My love, I've been a good boy, why can't you just touch me?" His hand caressing your thighs and ass. "I promise to make you come more," he pouts and kisses your lips, trying to convince you with his big blue eyes. "All I want is to fuck you," he kisses your neck.

And once you finally give in, he has you bending over the sofa, panties to the side as he licks his slick-coated fingers. "You are the sweetest little thing ever, my love," he pulls his trousers down and tubs the tip of his cock on your entrance. He lets out a moan. He wanted to tease you until you begged for it but he, himself needed to be buried deep inside your pussy. Making you into the perfect toy for him. His beast-like hands gripping your hips, you squirm and he growls. This was the perfect position to have you in. His fat cock barely fits inside your small cunt.

He growls anytime you whimper and does care for your pleasure but his. Your back arches and he grins, your hands holding onto the edges as he pounds himself deep inside of you. You let out a gasp when he bites your shoulder from behind, he grunts and chuckles deeply. "fuck, fuck...J-...shit," you say between moans. "J-johnny!....fuck," he leaves trails of bite marks on your back. "You're my good girl, such a pretty good girl," he whispers and kisses the bite marks. "I love you," he says and rubs his hands on your bare ass and thighs, his cock still being thrust into you.

He stops, "can I fill you up? Please, Bonnie, I want to fuck my pups into your pussy. Fill you to the brim." His thrusts are rare but slow, and he caresses your back. "Fill me, Johnny," you answer and he smirks. His veiny cock reaches orgasm as your tight pussy milks him for all he's worth. He moans, head thrown back, his mohawk brushed back as he grows excited. You roll your eyes back, and loud moans escape your lips. His drool-soaked fingers fucking your tight ass. "Tell me, darling, who's my good girl," he kisses your back. His cum soon leaks inside of you. His seed filling you full, your body taking a good reaction to this.

You pull on the leash that held his collar, "I'm your good girl~" you whimper. His cum falls down so gracefully and then he turns you over. "That's right, you're my good girl, no one else's." He looks at his leash and smirks. "If my mam saw me like this, her little boy leashed like the animal he is," he chuckles, "oh she'd be disappointed." he kisses your neck. "But so as long as I'm your good pup, huh, my love," he kisses your lips so carefully. His big arms embrace you warmly, and he rubs his scent on you again this way. You know it and he does too.

"Say you love me, R/N," he whispers as his head is buried in your breasts. "I love you, Johnny," you whisper back and scratch the back of his head. He smiles, "I love you too," he kisses your chest and takes in your intoxicating scent.

Tags :@anonymuslydumb @liyanahelena @vampsquerade @sevvygirl1995 @sleepydang @amygaster004 @alxexhearts

[thewulf]

Lassie || John "Soap" MacTavish

Summary: Request -Okay hear me out!! If you hate it you can change it to whatever bc you are amazing and crush every single request! Soap x reader where reader is maybe newer or helping with TF 141 on assignment... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh had a grand old time writing this angsty to fluffy piece. Who doesn't love a good Scottish softie??? Ahh love Soap so much! As always please keep sending in requests :)

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: slight angst, talks of stabbing, lots of blood, talks of blood, despondent reader

Johnny turned looking back at you with a hint of a smirk on his face, “You alright there lassie?”

You huffed in annoyance as you tried to keep up with him under the fifty or so pounds of equipment you had on, “I’m fine Soap. Let’s just get out of here.” You pushed back your helmet that was just a little too big and kept sliding around on your head ever so slightly. You’d just completed the first part of the mission, disarm their equipment. Now the second part, get the hell out of there.

He gave you a quick nod fighting back the sight of you, “Roll out. Follow me.” He nodded his head to the left as he cleared the hallway. You kept on his toes as you quickly followed behind him.

He slowed down when he approached a door that was hardly propped open. Kicking the stand away from it he decided you were going through first. He grabbed you and pushed you through the doorway. Startled by his actions you weren’t able to stop from stumbling through. The door clicked with a shut as Johnny must’ve been preoccupied with something behind the two of you. Not thinking too much of it your heart only started to race when you realized the heavy steel door was locked. You gulped trying to pull it open but was met by only resistance.

You tried opening the steel door a few more times, but the lock wouldn’t budge, “Johnny?” You asked hoping your voice wasn’t echoing down the long hallway giving way to your position. Your hands were shaking as you grabbed for your gun just in case. You would be fine no matter what. You were trained for this. Price wouldn’t let you out of his sight if he didn’t think you could do this with or without Soap.

You couldn’t hear his voice through the door, but you could hear the tapping. It took you a moment, but you could make out that he was telling you to, “Go.” In Morse Code. You really wished you had your comms right about now. You were pretty sure you remembered to get out of the building, but you were also a bit frazzled with this being your first real mission out on the field. You could do it. Johnny wouldn’t tell you to go if he knew you couldn’t.

It was going fine until it wasn’t. You had only a little further to go but then you heard the voices. You ducked in the hallway as you listened in to the conversation. It was no use as you couldn’t understand what language they were speaking. You grabbed for the knife in its sheath on your side knowing a gun would be too loud and would really draw in unwanted attention. You had to get out of her without being noticed. You could do it. You were trained for this.

With a heavy sigh you pressed forward only dodging into hallways as you needed. Except you dodged too late one time and had been spotted. Without so much as a second thought you pressed forward driving your knife deep into the soldiers neck taking him by complete surprise. With your free hand you pressed your hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t make as much noise. You watched in horror as the light faded from his eyes. Your eyes welled with tears as you muttered a “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Over and over again willing the unshed tears to retreat away one more. Gently, you pulled him into the hallway knowing you didn’t have much time and had to keep moving.

This was too much. You were trained, yes. But you didn’t know if you could do this. You didn’t think your mind could handle watching the light literally fade away from somebodies entirety like you just had. You looked down and shuddered seeing his red bed coating the front of your uniform.

You moved forward with your mind screaming at you to do the opposite. You took down two more even though you tried your hardest to hide. But it was kill or be killed and Soap would actually kill you if you died. So, you did what you had to do and killed them. You officially had a body count. You were officially apart of Task Force 141.

You jumped behind a column and sunk to the floor covering your ears with your knife pressed against your head dangerously close to cutting your cheeks when you heard gun shots ring out in front of you. You hadn’t a clue if it was friendly or not so you did what you could and hid.

It was Soap on a rampage looking for you. His comms were out as expected in the concrete jungle, so he was flying blind looking for you. He gulped when he finally found you crouched behind a hallway pillar. He noticed your shaking hand grasping at the crimson-soaked knife he knew you had to use. His eyes traced over your form looking for any obvious signs of injury, but it was hard to distinguish their blood from yours. You were covered. He fought back the urge to cringe at the sight of your fragile form. This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to get you in and out in one piece. Sure, that was still going to happen, but you’d surely be messed up from this. Johnny saw the bodies. He knew you had to have killed at least three people in your attempt to get out unscathed.

“Love, we need to go.” He held out his hand hoping you would take it. When your wide eyes met his he knew he really messed up. You had trained for it sure, but you’d never actually taken a life before. Did you kill someone’s mother? Their father? Were their parents going to be looking for them? Would they simply vanish into thin air and be considered missing? All of these thoughts and many more made your brain a useless pile of mush. You were overwhelmed in the worst way.

“Lovie, can you hear me?” His voice was muddled but you could hear him. Johnny squatted so he was eye level with you. He pried the knife out of your hand slowly once he was sure you weren’t going to attack him. Not that you would mean it, but he didn’t know where your head was at.

Setting the knife on the other side of his feet he grabbed at the side of your head, “Y/N, are you with me? We gotta get outta ‘ere.” His eyes frantically searched yours for any sign that you recognized what he was saying.

Your eyes locked with his, “Yeah, sorry. I don’t… I don’t know what happened.”

He smiled with relief grabbing at your blood-stained hand, “There you are, bonny. It’s okay. Gave me a right scare there. Let’s go, we can talk about it later, yeah?” He held your hand this time the entire way out. He had killed far more many people as bodies were littered on the floor. Maybe it was simply inevitable. These people were going to die today whether it was at your hand or Soaps. It made the sinking feeling in your gut subside for just a moment as you thought about how you had killed people today.

You felt him squeeze your hand. Looking up you saw the concern once again washing over his face, “Sorry, what’d you say?” You asked while following behind him. He was moving slow for your sake. He knew you weren’t in the best headspace and didn’t want to push you too hard. You could handle it, sure. But he didn’t want you to hate him either.

“I said you did a good job back there lassie.” He gave you a sympathetic look knowing how in your own head you were at the moment.

You sucked in a breath, “I had too…”

He stopped you before you could say it out loud, “I know. It comes with the job. You didn’t have a choice lassie.” He gave your hand another soft squeeze before going through yet another door in the maze that was this building. No wonder comms didn’t work in this place. It was a cinderblock maze.

You let out a frustrated sigh, “I just didn’t think…” You trailed off once more not knowing how to string together sentences anymore.

“Didn’t think what bonny?” He pressed you on knowing you needed to get your thoughts out. He remembered his first time too. Nobody forgot. It never really got easier in the field you just got a little number to it each time. Kill or be killed. A mantra that kept you sane when your body count grew a little too high for even your own comfort.

“That I would have to take a life. I’m a killer Johnny.” You looked down in shame as if he too hadn’t killed people. Many, many people.

He stopped abruptly pushing you up against the wall as gently as he could, “I need you to listen to me lassie, do you hear me?” He whispered in your ear before taking a peek around making sure the two of you weren’t being ambushed.

When you nodded he continued, “You had no choice bonny. No choice. Price is right when he says it’s kill or be killed. You had to do it to stay alive. And I’m sure as hell glad you chose to fight. I… we love having you here with us. Now, let’s get home so we can get cleaned up.”

You gulped feeling a small weight being lifted off your shoulders at his rushed words, “Thank you Johnny.”

He grabbed for your hand again not willing to take the risk of getting split up from your again, “Anytime lassie.” He turned back to you once you’d made it a bit further, “100 more meters, you up for it bonny?” Nodding quickly, you tried to ignore his growing smirk as you were sure he noticed your cheeks giving you away. The way he was both calling you lassie and the new nickname of bonny had you swooning at the worst time.

Giving him a thumbs up you couldn’t get your brain to work. All you wanted was out of the damn building and back to the chopper. A warm shower really felt like it’d clear up half your worries right about now.

“Come on then.” He grinned pulling you along. He ran a little faster seeing you were keeping up now. When he pushed opened the door you felt your heart rate pick up in anticipation. Just a little further and you were there. Soap checked the surroundings making sure the two of you weren’t sitting ducks before taking off towards the chopper with you in tow.

As if it was second nature he picked you up and as gracefully as ever threw you into the chopper knowing that Ghost or Gaz would stop you from falling out the other side. He was right, Ghosts hands grabbed you steady when you came flying through the open door with Soap climbing in not too far behind you. Swiftly he shut the door letting the pilot know he needed to take off.

You noticed Ghosts soft brown eyes go wide under his balaclava seeing your blood-soaked uniform, “What happened Sergeant?” He looked over you and to Johnny who was standing there with his mouth open in surprise. It wasn’t often a mission got away from him. Let alone one with you. Gaz sat there motionless observing the chaotic scene unfolding before him. He knew it was best to sit back and let whatever was to happen, happen.

Soap pulled you over to the seat next to Ghost and sat you down seeing you were still a tad disoriented from the entire ordeal. Normally he’d be cracking a joke or making fun of you, but he saw that look in your eye. He remembered his first time being truly afraid. You must’ve been terrified. You had to kill, or you’d be killed. You’d heard it thousands of times already by Captain Price in your short stint with the 141 but it never really registered that you had to do it. It meant something so much more now.

Ghost watched as Soap buckled you in. He let him take care of your shaken figure before he would demand an answer. Ghosts eyes softened the softest amount seeing your wide, panicked eyes. You didn’t look hurt. Just afraid.

“A damn door LT.” Soap’s thick accent came out as he focused on you and really only you. It wasn’t out of character for the Scot. He always took care of his teammates. But neither Kyle nor Simon were blind to the way he lit up when you walked into his field of vision. How he always made excuses to be closer to you. How he just seemed happier when you were around.

Simon’s eyes left your body and moved over to Soap’s who sat down next to you, “Care to elaborate?” The Lieutenant didn’t use many words as was usual around the group.

He sighed looking at you solemnly, “We got separated by a locked door. She moved forward at my command and had to eliminate a few targets on her own. I got around through another exit but wasn’t quite quick enough. She’s been in and out of it since.” He spoke calmly as he buckled in. He grabbed a headset and gently placed it over your ears before working on his own.

You gave him a quick smile, “Thanks Soap.” It came out as more of a whisper. You felt utterly exhausted. Who knew a mission as simple as that could take it all literally right out of you? You tried to listen in to the conversation between LT and Soap as best you could, but it sounded muddled as your thoughts raced in front of you. You’d never felt so helpless in your life as your eyes landed on Gaz in front of you who only looked at you with that same concern you saw from not only Soap but Ghost as well. This was certainly not what you had planned when you graduated engineering school only five years prior. Life had a funny way of throwing you a few twists and turns.

“You ‘lright there lassie?” You heard the thick Scottish accent come from your side. They must’ve wrapped up their conversation as you were in your own head once more.

Nodding quickly your eyes broke away from Kyle and up to Johnny, “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.” It was a lie. You weren’t really fine, but you would be. After a few days of self-wallowing and a some more training you’d be as good as new.

“You’re shaking.” He whispered right in your ear trying not to draw too much attention to your trembling hands

You looked down seeing what he saw. Sure, as hell your hands were shaking rapidly, and you hadn’t even noticed, nor could you stop it. The adrenaline mixed with exhaustion had your body all out of sorts. You turned your head to his just missing his cheek with your own before whispering back, “I can’t stop it.” Soap was the only one of the Task Force you were so open with. Ghost scared the hell out of you. Price felt like your father. You’d never had a proper conversation with Gaz. And Johnny was well… Johnny. He brought out the best in everybody including you.

He took your hands in his giving them a gentle squeeze of reassurance, “It’s alright bonny. We’ll be back on base soon. Get you to the medical tent for a check over. A nice hot shower after that. How does that sound?”

You shook your head trying your best to protest his statement, “Can’t I just take a shower?” You whined to Ghosts amusement beside you. He tried not to watch the tender moment between his two responsibilities but it’s also not like he could avoid it. You were quite literally pressed right up against him, there wasn’t a ton of room in the chopper.

“No can-do lassie. Watched you take a nasty hit to the head. Afraid some of that blood is yours.” He motioned to your head. How’d the massive helmet miss? You touched the tender wound on your forehead that was in fact bleeding.

Ghost grunted in agreement beside you, “Captain’s orders.”

Johnny gave your hands another reassuring squeeze, “It’s alright. I’ll come with ya. You’ll be just fine lassie.” Truth was you didn’t love doctors. And you really didn’t love military doctors. They were so much rougher and more abrasive than the ones back home.

“Fine.” You sighed giving up to all the stares directed right at you. Thankfully Johnny was right. The ride back to base was pretty short. Either that or you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.

He helped you out of the chopper once you landed. Ghost gave him orders to take you directly to medical and to not leave your side. It’s like he knew you’d go right back to your bunk if you didn’t have supervision. He was right of course.

“You didn’t have to wait up on me.” You said as you spotted Johnny sitting in the waiting room for you. He rose and walked over to you in an instant.

“’Course I did bonny. Had to make sure you were alright.” He looked up to the doctor standing behind you with a kind smile on his face.

“She’ll be fine. Just needs to rest for a few days. Small concussion. I’ve already sent the file over to Price so he should not be expecting you at training tomorrow.” The doctor gently reminded you knowing that the soldiers needed a not so gentle nudge of a reminder sometimes.

Johnny nodded, “No need to worry doc. I’ll make sure she stays in bed.” Soap beamed giving the doctor that all to familiar Johnny grin which wasn’t always a reassurance.

“Right.” The doctor mumbled before departing behind the doors once more leaving you and Johnny alone in the lobby.

“They clean you up then?” Johnny asked as he stepped closer to you slowly. Almost afraid you’d shy away if he walked too fast.

You hummed, “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you’d be waiting. The nurse offered a shower, and I couldn’t resist.” You shuddered thinking of how the shower was nothing but red for minutes before the water could wash away all he blood.

“No, no. It’s alright bonny. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” He took a step closer grabbing for your hand once more, “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He asked looking down at the time, 3 AM. For the first time that day he let you lead the way back to your room. He knew you needed some semblance of control after losing so much of it today.

Once you neared your room you slowed, almost hesitating when you reached for the door, “Everything alright lassie?” Johnny asked knowing something was off with you. He always knew.

You turned to him slowly, “I don’t want to be alone Johnny.” It sounded pathetic coming out of your mouth as you spoke to him.

His heart officially shattered then and there seeing you so unlike your usual self, “I’ll stay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that Soap.” You looked down embarrassed by your remark.

“Well, I’ll be. If you just wanted to snuggle why didn’t you say so?” He snickered before pulling you flush against his chest. Immediately you felt your cheeks start to heat under his comment.

“Soap.” You grumbled into his chest not having the energy

“’m just messing you bonny.” He kissed the top crown of your neck as his arm found a comfortable spot on your hip, “Get some sleep lassie. I’ll see ya in the mornin’.” His accent was thick as he too was exhausted. You snuggled in closer smelling his woody cologne that clung to his chest. Sleep came quickly as you were enveloped in his arms. And that might’ve been the best sleep you’ve had in a long time. For you only woke up when Soap’s training alarm went off at ten the next morning. He’d decided to skip the morning session knowing it was worth the wrath of Price for a few extra hours of sleep with you.

You yawned seeing him make his way towards your door, “Try not to get into too much trouble today.” You grinned seeing him surprised you were awake. He had thought he’d done an expert job of keeping quiet. He had been. You just missed his arms wrapped around you.

“I’ll try my best.” He laughed with a big smile seeing your much more coherent expression watching him curiously, “I’ll come get you for lunch, how does that sound?” He asked.

“I’d like that.”

He grinned once more, “I’ll see you soon then. Get some more sleep. You’ll need it.” You nodded at him knowing it wasn’t going to happen without his help. No, you were far too cozy before to even try and sleep right now. But you weren’t frightened anymore no. You were going to lay there and think about cozying up to Johnny’s body once more for it was a pleasure you never knew you needed. Leave it to Johnny.

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[midnight-moth-musings]

The Butcher's Boy, Part 1

John "Soap" Mactavish x reader, medieval au

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

---

I stare at my reflection in mirror in front of me, trying to ignore the endless chatter of my mother and the seamstress behind me. The dress is gorgeous--fit for royalty I suppose. The expensive, purple silk cascades down my body and pools down to my feet just right, hugging my corseted waist tightly. I begin to tug at the long sleeves with mild frustration. The expensive silk itches at my skin as I try to adjust it. My mother approaches from behind and slaps my hand away.

"Stop with your fidgeting. Ladies do not fidget." I would roll my eyes at her, but that would call for a later punishment--one that I would like to avoid.

"Yes, mother." I murmur. I avoid making contact with my own eyes in the mirror, knowing that there are likely glossed over as the reality of my situation sinks in.

"Many girls would kill for a chance like this. You have been chosen as a possible wife for the king, are you not happy?" I turn to face my mother. A stern woman, one who has embraced the life of a noblewoman steadfastly.

"I am happy for you and father." My mother purses her thin lips and silently seethes at my reply. Before our conversation can progress further, the seamstress approaches. I envy the older woman's calm demeanor and her simple life.

"How do we like the dress, dears?" She smiles brightly at us. Her hair is greyed, long and curly, only pinned back to reveal her face. My mother looks down on her, I can see the judgement in her eyes every time we enter her shop.

"We will take it." My mother replies quickly. The seamstress nods and begins to undress me. She begins to help me undress and put on the dress I came in. My mother walks outside to our carriage to wait, albeit impatiently.

"Thank you, Miss Imelda." I smile at the seamstress as she finishes fixing my hair by tying a silk scarf around my head. I walk outside the shop and enter the carriage slowly to try and avoid the stern talking to I will likely receive. Instead, I am hit with silence as my mother ignores me. The carriage lurches forward and I stare outside the small window as we travel home. We reach home after minutes of silence, and I am helped out of the carriage by one of the footmen. My mother pushes past me quickly to enter our home and I walk upstairs to my room alone. I collapse on my bed and burrow my head against one of my pillows in a huff.

"Lady Y/N?" I tilt my head up with a groan to meet the smiling face of my maid, Clara. I feel the bed move as she sits beside me. "It seems you had great fun at the seamstress." She giggles as I roll my eyes.

"It was awful. My mother insists on dressing me like a doll. If she insists upon dressing my hair in pins and bows, I may impale myself on one of the pins to escape it." Clara rubs my back gently as she smiles down at me.

"I could think of worse fates than to wed a king." I begin to roll my eyes again, but Clara pinches my cheek. "Hush." I swat at her shoulder grumpily as I rub over the sore skin. "Would it brighten your mood to join me for some errands?" I sit up with a grin, eager to leave the confines of my home as I am often not allowed to leave for such trivial tasks.

"Of course!" Clara giggles again as I hug her tightly and stand up from the bed.

In town, Clara and I walk from shop to shop as she collects a variety of items. I scrunch my nose as we approach the butcher, already imagining the stench of raw meat and blood. Clara tugs me along impatiently as we enter the shop. She walks over to the end of the counter to speak to an older man who awaits her with a smile. My eyes flicker around the shop as I stand in the corner. I take a few steps toward the counter hesitantly, looking to the array of raw meat and animals products strung about. My attention is distracted by the sudden entrance of a young man through the back of the shop. Clad in a white apron stained in red, his bulky frame approaches. My eyes trail from his muscular arms down to the large piece of meat in his hand. He carries it almost weightlessly.

Slam! I'm snapped out of my daydream as he slaps the meat on the counter and begins to chop at it with a knife. Instead of repulsion, I find myself oddly interested in the action as his thick arm slams down on the meat to separate it into pieces. Blood splatters on his already dirty apron as I watch him quickly butcher the piece of meat into small pieces. Ladies do not stare, I begin to repeat. He begins to wrap several pieces in brown paper, tying with string to keep it intact. His nimble fingers quickly tie knots around the paper, gripping the packages with his large, calloused hands. Dark specks of coarse hair cover his hands and arms. I begin to imagine the feeling of it contrasted with my soft skin. Ladies do not stare. His head tilts up and I'm met with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Dark brows and a coarse beard frame his face almost perfectly. I quickly avert my eyes to the stone floor as he notices my staring, cursing at myself for my lack of manners.

"Need somethin' lass?" My stomach drops at the unfamiliar voice but I raise my head cautiously to see the man staring at me with a boyish grin.

"N-No, I'm just waiting." I curse myself again for stuttering. Ladies do not stutter, my mother's voice replays in my head. I catch a glimpse of dark tufts of hair sprawling down his neck to his chest as he leans against the counter.

"Aye, you're here with Clara hm?" I look back over at Clara, who is in a deep discussion with the older man. I muster a nod as I look back at the man next to me. "I haven't seen ya here before. Would've remembered a face like yours." I find myself reddening as he winks boldly at me.

"I-I...no, I haven't. I'm Y/N." I gulp as he extends his arm to me. Never allow a commoner to touch you, mother says. Throwing caution to the wind, I take his hand hesitantly and he pulls mine in for a soft kiss. The bristles of his beard brush against my skin as his lips touch my knuckles gently. I almost forget to breathe for the moments that follow. Our hands disconnect and I carefully put my arm to the side as the area he touched remains tingling.

"Johnny." He smiles brightly at me. "Johnny Mactavish. It's a pleasure to meet ya bonnie." I smile back at him widely, my cheeks red as he stares back at me. We stand silently for a few moments before Clara walks over and grabs my arm.

"Ready, Lady Y/N?" I'm snapped away from his blue eyes as I look over at Clara next to me. I nod, wiping at my cheeks as if I can remove the blush with only my hands. She smiles over at the man next to me--Johnny.

"Safe travels, ladies." Johnny waves at the both of us, focusing his attention longer on me as he sends me a second wink. Clara walks us out of the shop and I feel almost empty as we leave--as if my soul just found a missing piece of it and is now being ripped away. I smile softly to myself as Clara and I travel back home, unable to fully immerse myself in her chatter as we walk together. Later that night, I catch myself dreaming in a sea of blue as I trace a finger over the skin of my knuckles that he kissed.

---

This is the dress that I imagine for the beginning ^^^

-P

[cherylmaso]

how to get a grip and write soap non cringeworthy (by a glaswegian lass)

this may or may not be half a rant. but. okay. okay. i made a post like this before, but i kinda wanted to detail it a little more as i've seen posts like these popping up, but made by english people.

so i'm gonna make one about being scottish for non scots and how to more accurately portray soap as scottish. this is probably mostly aimed at people from tiktok, so feel free to share it around. this is also educational as well as light-hearted and is meant to be taken as such, don't get offended or just be fr

1.) okay, i'm gonna start off by saying... some of these unintentional(or intentional) stereotypes are fucking mind blowing. i'm not one to necessarily get offended by things like this, but i think it's worth mentioning. not all of us play bagpipes, or run around wearing kilts... or - for the love of god - RUN AROUND SCREAMING "SCOTLAND FOREVER." honestly..... it's so odd? i know you would be heavily offended if i called you a fat american, but really what's the difference?

(also the scotland forever is so cringe. i've never in my entire life heard anyone from this country say that)

2.) since i don't think there's any canon of where soap was specifically brought up in scotland(city-wise), i'll have to go off accents and his voice actor for this point. which is alright with me, because scottish accents can be very easily identified.

a lot like the english, scottish people can have MANY varying accents, and a lot of varying phrases. for example, someone down in ayrshire might say "i ken" instead of "i know" whereas people from glasgow usually wouldn't. you catch me?

...now, soap. soap would not go around saying certain phrases. from what i hear, he sounds glaswegian/edinburgh, which is east/west of scotland. the tiniest... TINIEST... bit of research will unveil a plethora of things that people from there would actually say.

aye/yes, naw/no, cannae/cant, could'nae/couldn't, fizzy drink/soda, how/why(this one is weird)..... that's an extremely small portion but you get the point. the scots talk EXTREMELY different than americans do, we have new words for almost everything.

and, before i lose my mind, PLEASE STOP HAVING SOAP REFER TO HIS MOTHER AS MOM. thank you.

3.) the general cringe. i've literally seen people say he would refer to himself as a big scotty boy. no one in scottish history has ever referred to themselves as that unironically. ever. again, circling back to the similarities between the english and scottish, we both have very sarcastic/edgy/cynical humour. ours won't be the same as the americans. our definition of sarcasm differs from yours. headcanons are fine, sometimes, but it's so out of character most of the time if you aren't from the country. bro would NOT spend his free time listening to lana del rey but don't let that stop you from saying he would LMAO

4.) we don't call ourselves british. i mean, some of us do(if yer a bastartin tory x), but most of us will literally get offended if you call us british. we'd all just much rather call ourselves scottish. don't ask me why.

5.) also! please educate yourself on how to properly use scottish slang. the amount of things that just genuinely do not make sense is appalling. it takes two seconds. also my dms are always open... feel free to ask a literal glaswegian lass. context also matters. if you don't know what you mean, just shut the fuck up x

6.) ...he wouldn't be a tory. none of them would be fucking tories. none of them would be sad about the queen. i know americans can't comprehend we don't actually worship the queen in britain, but considering they all probably grew up in some form of poverty or just a bad household, they just wouldn't be tories. or they literally wouldn't care.

7.) props to codie for this point. circling back to the stereotypes, i think it's MENTAL to see what you guys think are "funny" and "relatable" when really, you're absolutely perpetrating harmful scottish stereotypes. ha ha you are so funny when you make jokes about soap being really aggressive and a "gremlin" and an alcoholic and ahahha scotland forever and ahahahha he has bagpipes as his alarm clock... sorry but it's really not as funny as you think it is. like, there's a line and a lot of the time all you cunts online love crossing it with your poorly written headcanons and tiktok videos. i think a lot of you deserve to be told that it's not okay. i know you would all cry if we done the same and also it's just kinda embarrassing

8.) learn our culture but don't forget theres so much more to it. this isn't even primarily about scotland culture but more so british culture as a whole. it's completely different from any other culture and it's also not super hard to do your research. kinda hard to explain if you're not part of it but yk what i mean. sometimes it's obvious to me that you guys don't care to educate yourself and don't care to understand different cultures but i appreciate those that do lol

9.) where soap is from, he wouldn't speak gaelic either. i'm sorry, he just wouldn't. not really a thing in big cities. it's scots he would speak, and there's a difference. don't say they're the same things or you """prefer""" to call gaelic scots. yes someone actually said that LMFAOO. scottish gaelic isn't just saying aye and naw either. jesus fuckign christ x if you don't understand the difference or what you're even saying then just don't say anything LMAO

that's all for now. i'll probably randomly think of other stuff to add, but for now it's currently 5am and i cba. sorry if theres mistakes/typos, again, cba x

also if u get offended u need to get a grip and this is obvs aimed at u. ok have a good day pookie bears xx

(i promise i don't have a problem with americans but it's funny how it's always you guys)

[callsignredwolf]

At Heaven's Gates

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Guardian Angel!Reader Summary: In the vastness of the universe, there exists a world out there where you're Johnny's guardian angel. Warnings: Mentions of major character Death. Word Count: 1577

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You were an angel, born in an instant. Whole and radiant, your soul was bound to another. A mortal soul, belonging to a sweet baby boy with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes of blue. From the moment he drew breath, maybe even before, he was yours to watch over, yours to protect. His entire life was laid out before you, detailed in gold on a long, sprawling ledger. Every high and every low, from beginning to end. And with every moment etched into your mind, you set off to meet him, taking your place as his ever-present shadow, silent and waiting.

There's an old, dirt road leading all the way from Johnny's house to the aging, white church nestled in the hillside. It wasn't a short walk by any means, and he didn't understand why his Ma insisted on rousing the whole family at the peep of day, all so they could don their best garms and shuffle through the dirt, while everyone else road in cars.

"It's a waste, lamb," His mother had said to him that morning, only half paying him mind as she rummaged through her jewelry box. She made a small sound of relief once she found what she had been searching for, attaching the small pearl earring to her ear quickly before leaning into the mirror to check her lipstick.

"And anyway," she continued. "The neighbors only drive because they're wantin' to show off." And then she was on about the stuffy, old women in the church with their saggy stockings and floral perfume that always set her head off hurtin'.

"They're always lookin' as if they've got something to say, but never say it," she was saying, but truth be told, Johnny had stopped listening a while ago. She could go on all she wanted, but none of that explained why he had to suffer out in the chilly morning air wearing shoes that pinched his feet.

"Are you listenin', John?"

He most certainly was not.

"Yeah, Ma, I just don't understand why we've got to walk when no one else does." He knew he was whining, but in his defense, it usually worked in his favor. Johnny was the youngest of his three siblings, and his mother's clear favorite, though she'd never admit it. On most days, all it took was a little pressing and he'd have whatever he wanted. However, this morning did not belong to one of those days.

His mother looked at him through the mirror with an expression that was far less than amused.

"Well then, you clearly weren't listenin, were you?"

"I was, Ma. But-"

"Go on then, John. I won't work it 'round again with you again. We've got to be leaving soon. Go on and wait on the porch. I'll be out in a minute." She turned around to face him properly, giving him a pointed look with his same sapphire eyes. "Go on then."

It was safe to say, from that moment on, Johnny's mood had been ruined and in turn, his behavior only deteriorated as the morning progressed. He followed behind the rest of his family, sulking and kicking up rocks as he went. He hadn't meant for one of the tiny pebbles to soar higher than the others and strike his sister in the ankle, but that didn't save him the scolding form his father. And when his older brother had tried to raise his spirits with a bit of harmless horseplay as they approached the church, it was Johnny that received the stinging pinch to his arm.

"Stop carrying on like that," his mother hissed in his ear. "People will see and think we've raised a lot of heathens."

"You've gotten too big to be actin' a fool like that anyhow," his father added. When Johnny attempted to bring up his brother's involvement, who was a full two years older than his thirteen, he was met with a decisive hush.

Completely put out with his entire family, and in the mood to give them all a dose of punishing silence for the rest of the day, Johnny took his seat on the hard wooden pew, with his arms folded across his chest and a displeased scowl on his face. But despite his rear falling asleep ten minutes into the sermon and the booming voice of the preacher bouncing off the walls, a heavy cloud of sleep settled on Johnny's shoulders. He fought it off as best he could, but it was no use, and the next thing he knew, he was slinking through the church doors in the direction of home, his ear still aching from his mother's iron grip.

Now, the question of where you were this whole time is simply answered. You were with Johnny, as you had been every other moment of his life. From your place high up on the balcony, wooden banister pressing into your ribs, you saw the moment when Johnny had been sent home alone by his mother for falling asleep during service.

Normally, you would have found yourself giggling at the scene playing out before you, entertained by his silly antics. But today you couldn't bring yourself to even crack a smile. Instead, you were fraught with nerves.

The day Johnny was born, you were shown every moment of his life in vivid detail, and some of those moments were marked with stars. Destined and unchangeable, those moments were scattered all throughout his life, moments that would shape who he was as a person. Some were bright and full of love and excitement. Others, such as the one marked for today, loomed like a foreboding cloud that set your stomach fluttering with unease.

You followed behind him, down that long dirt road, an unseen apparition filled with worry. It was a car, set to come barreling down the road at any moment, that would strike your Johnny and send him tumbling down a rabbit hole of pain and brokenness, ambulances and hospital stays.

You'd seen it all yourself, and yet it was still so hard to imagine in this moment, when he walked just out of your reach, whole and unscarred.

The early spring breeze sent the tall grass on either side of the road moving back and forth like the waves of an ocean. Johnny raised his head and looked off at something you couldn't see. You didn't try to follow his gaze to see what caught his attention. Your mind was on something else, a plan that was unfolding suddenly, but still not fast enough.

You didn't have time to think it through, not when you thought you could hear the rumbling of an engine off in the distance. Not when your Johnny was in danger.

There, around his neck, was a sliver of blue. Not quite the color of his eyes, but just as shiny and bright. It was a hand me down, a tie that had been worn by his older cousin, then his brother, and now it hung undone on top of his collar.

You reached for it, unsure if your fingers would even be able to grasp the smooth material, but you decided to take the chance anyway. The surge of elation that flooded your veins as you pulled it free from his neck made you nearly jump for joy.

His head turned in your direction, a look of surprise painting his features. You heard him blurt out a word that would definitely land him in hot water if either of his parents had been around to hear, but you didn't care, taking off into the field of grass at your side with his tie in tow.

Of all the possible ways Johnny could imagine his day getting worse, losing his tie to a stiff breeze had not been one of them. The look in his mother's eyes had all but promised punishment when she returned home from church come the afternoon, and he shuddered to imagine how much angrier she would be if he admitted to losing his tie on the way home. Without hesitating, he darted off after the slip of fabric that was gliding and sailing further away from him with each passing second.

With a gleaming smile curling your lips, you cast a glance over your shoulder, the feeling of triumph practically radiating from you at the sight of Johnny hot on your heels. The road was disappearing as you ran further into the high grass, and when the ill-fated car came barreling down its path, it was nothing but a slash of silver in the distance.

You could hear Johnny closing the distance between you, muttering curses the whole way. You began to slow your pace as you approached a small tree with low branches. You climbed one and then another, dangling the tie from your fingertips in an attempt to look as natural as possible. Whether it did or not, you didn't care. All you cared about was him being safe. Your Johnny was sweaty and out of breath, and safe.

You watched him climb the first branch and then the second one, his face now just inches from yours. He couldn't see you, but as he pulled the tie from your fingers, there was a second, a heartbeat of a moment, where his blue eyes settled on you and warmth flooded your body down to your toes. It was then that you knew you loved him. Your Johnny.

[mlmxreader]

The Guilt of Leaving | John Soap MacTavish x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Soap with

82 "I just need a hug from you, specifically" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Soap leaves you at the worst time, and to make things even more difficult, he knows you're not even prepared for it.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, graphic depictions of fatal injuries & dead bodies, smoking, major character death, themes of suicide

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

When you first got the call, your heart dropped.

You screamed until your lungs gave out, cried until your head throbbed and pounded and snot was coating your face. You had always thought that he would be lucky, that he would never be the one to go.

That he would retire one day and you would live the rest of your lives trying to make up for all the time you had missed. You prayed, although you knew that it wouldn't save him. You asked the rabbi if there was a way, but they didn't answer. He wouldn't come back.

You stopped looking after yourself. The toothbrush was dry for months. The pile of dirty clothes piled up and up until you had nothing left to change into. You rarely ate, rarely slept. You stopped going out, stopped answering your phone, especially if any of his old friends called.

You always left the side door unlocked, hoping that he would walk through it. But he never did. He never would again.

Your boyfriend, your beloved Johnny, was dead.

Ever since that phone call, you had not been the same.

You never would be again, you and Johnny were… you had been together since you were teenagers. You were going to get married, you were going to have a family. You didn't even feel real anymore. Detached from everything, unsure if it was reality or if you were dreaming. A hazy state.

Constantly wondering if you should push yourself off of the top stair with your back facing them. Johnny was your everything. He was your best friend in the whole world. He was your boyfriend. He was your favourite person.

Now he wasn't even around to give you a soft kiss on the temple and tell you that it was all going to be alright. Nothing was the same anymore. You didn't smile when you saw old reruns of EastEnders and Waterloo Road on the television. You didn't feel excited to watch I'm A Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here!, you couldn't.

Those were things that you and Johnny watched together. You didn't even smoke the same kind of cigarettes anymore, constantly breaking apart and screaming his name when you saw his brand of tobacco on the kitchen counter. You couldn't cope anymore.

It was a dark, early morning, not even five hundred hours, when you went down to the kitchen. You didn't bother turning on the light as you went to the drawer and opened it, grabbing the long and sharp knife and taking a shaky breath.

You couldn't cope. You couldn't bring Johnny back as much as you wanted to, and you didn't know what to do without him. You had always been together. He was the one constant in your life.

You sat on the floor with your back against the cupboard, holding the tip of the knife against your wrist. You couldn't stand it anymore, you just wanted to see him again. You just wanted to be with him again.

You were about to do it, when the side door gently opened. The light turned on, and something stepped in.

He didn't look the same. His jaw was almost completely torn off, bits of his skull missing and exposing the ripped and shredded brain beneath. His eyes coated in a milky white; he took a few steps forward, lurching and jerking movements as he struggled to speak.

Black froth spewing from his bloodied and half missing lips. He babbled and gargled as he approached, crashing down onto his knees before you with a harsh crack, bones pushing through skin with ease as they snapped and forced the flesh to ripple.

With fuzzy grey fingers topped with black nails, he grabbed the knife, and threw it aside. More gargling and babbling. He stunk.

A sharp, distinct smell that sat uneasily against your nose and made you feel sick.

You didn't even think, lurching forward and hugging him tightly despite the sound of something cracking. “I don't care if this is real or not, I just need a hug from you, specifically.”

Johnny wanted to speak. He wanted to tell you that it was all going to be alright and that he was there, now, you had nothing to worry about. But he couldn't force what was left of his jaw back into place, and he supposed that the gaping and squelching hole in his throat probably didn't help, either.

Sighing as he resigned himself to letting you hold him. He wondered if you could feel how cold his flesh was, how his blood was congealed and clumpy. He wondered if you noticed that his heart wasn't beating. But then you pulled away, and he garbled as he did his best to speak.

“Oh, Johnny,” you whispered, sobbing. “I just wanna die…”

He shook his head, choking and static coming from his damaged throat.

“I don't know what to do without you,” you murmured. “And I don't know if you're real, but… but I love you, and I can't… I can't do this alone.”

Johnny wanted to reach out, he wanted to feel your warm skin against his and to know that everything would be fine; he felt terrible for leaving you so soon, he felt awful.

He knew that you would long for him forever and that your soul would forever be entwined with his; but he also knew that he couldn't come back. He was more than aware that he had to make you let him go, to let him rest.

But you wouldn't do that.

Johnny was smarter than that, he knew that after all the years you had been together, you would forever scream his name in your sleep; you would forever long for him to come home. Your soul would always tug on his.

He let out a quiet growl, spitting blood onto his thighs as he shook his head.

Johnny would never stop feeling the guilt of leaving you so soon, leaving you when you weren't ready whatsoever.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Relief (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader) Smut

Summary: It's the end of another mission, and you're ready to unwind with your new favourite destresser - casual sex with Soap.

AN: Thanks again to everyone who voted in the poll. I'm tempted to do another for the fics I've got drafted. My third favourite white guy on COD is finally on my blog ayyy.

If you wanna request a fic, check out my guidelines before sending one in! Also, if you wanna be tagged in any future fics, let me know!

Content warnings: Smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fuck-buddies in love trope, Reader is AFAB and gender neutral

Masterlist // AO3 Version

With a sigh, your head tilted back against the door you were pressed into. A half-surprised huff escaped next, since your body hadn’t left an impression in the wood – not unlike how Soap’s fingers were likely etched in bruises on your thighs from where he was holding you. He didn’t normally hold onto you so tightly, so desperately. But you let him anyway.

His nose leant above your shoulder. His chest caught its breath in deep sluggish drags, the glow of his skin pressed to yours whilst you did the same.

“You gonna put me down?” You huffed.

“Maybe. Quite like you like this.”

Of course he did. That’s why you’d barely made it out of briefing and not at all on his bed. Soap adjusted his grip and lifted your legs’ grip a little higher up his waist, which caught you off-guard and a moan slipped out.

You gave him a little taunt: “I know sex is a work-out but that doesn’t mean you can start deadlifting me whilst your cock’s still inside me.”

“Damn,” and Soap lifted his head up to look in your eyes with that laddish smirk and smug stare, “There goes my routine I was planning for tomorrow. Hey-” His brow creased as you attempted to lower one of your legs, his hand squeezing the meat of your thigh, “- I meant it. I like you like this.”

“This isn’t exactly helping the pain,” You said, referring to the mildest of injuries you’d ever gotten on a mission – a massive bruise behind your left shoulder.

Instantly, and with you still in his arms, Soap walked you over to his bed. His open hand cradled your hair as he lowered himself onto the sheets, then flopped back ungracefully. You on the other hand remained sat upright on his cock; your head tilted to the side as you watched Soap fidget against the pillow.

“You alright down there?”

Putting his hands behind his head, Soap winked, “Perfect. The view’s fantastic.”

Those random “clench to the music” videos on TikTok had been preparing you for this moment. You squeezed around his cock and Soap’s self-assured chuckles were stolen away. Tilting your head playfully at him, you watched him grunting beneath you.

Soap’s brows shot up his forehead as he opened up those bashful blue eyes, “Oh, that’s how you wanna play?”

His body beneath you shuffled as he planted his heels besides his buttocks. Your grin remained etched on your face as he thrust up into you. The first time, you could hold in your groans. The second time, your lips were pressed together as you lowered your elbows either side of his head.

“One Earthshattering Soap Special coming up?”

“Fuckin’ minx.”

It was so hard to kiss him properly when he wouldn’t stop making you smile, moan, whisper how good he made you feel. His shameless stare flitted between your face twisted in overstimulation and your hand rubbing at yourself to chase down your next orgasm. Each thrust was bordering on painful, the perfect distraction for your greedy body.

At the moment your orgasm wiped across you, you didn’t have to hold back a scream. All energy left was trained on those laboured breaths snatched between your mouth and Soap’s, both agape and brushing awkwardly as you greedily rutted into one another for more until the waves faded to ripples then to contented hums. His nose slotted to yours as you lifted your chest an inch from him.

“Was it intentional?”

“What’d’you mean?”

“Soap Special. Coming up,” you repeated, your laughter coming out hushed as you grappled with Soap’s shoulders to stay vertical.

“No, can’t be on my a-game with dirty jokes whilst your cunt squeezing the life out of me,” and Soap gripped your hips tighter. “And I can’t have done a good enough job if you can still think properly.”

“I recover fast. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

And you fell over into his chest, flopping your entire weight on him as you copied how he’d squashed you between himself and the door – but at least he had the luxury of it being a mattress on his back this time.

His arms curled protectively around you, keeping you pressed to him whilst he kissed you stupid, quite literally. You sighed dreamily; your hand tangled in his mohawk.

“You need a haircut,” you mumbled into his mouth. “Just a trim. Sides are getting long.”

“Warmin’ up to it, are you?”

“I will say it’s convenient for holding onto.”

Soap snorted, half your body sinking on his chest’s sudden exhale. Your fist squeezed in his hair once more before freeing him and pushing you away from him. When a flash of bliss from your cunt caught you off guard, and a short moan shot out of you, you waited for Soap to tease you about it. But he did no such thing whilst you climbed off his cock. Just looked at you with a close-lipped smile and his hand stroked up and down your bicep.

“Stay,” He hummed as you twisted around and swung your legs off the edge of his bunk.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” It was said with sincerity, not his usual sarcasm.

So you tried to include a sense of warning in your retort, “Soap.” But it just came across as sardonic and you waited for Soap to take advantage of it.

Instead, he sat up and wrapped himself against you. Feigning annoyance, you pushed his rising torso down into the bed.

You tried again, “We do this routine every time. It’s getting boring.”

Soap bounced right back up, “Boring’s not how I’d describe it.” To support his point, you endured listening to his kisses smacking against your skin, sending light-headed chills with each new contact. Soft vibrations from his throat tickled your shoulder’s slope.  

“You’re practically purring,” You said, hiding how uneven your words were in a half-laugh.

“Course. I’m the cat who got the cream.”

“Fucking hell,” You huffed, still smiling as you pulled up your underwear.

Your trousers were halfway up your legs when you pushed him away again but, this time, Soap stayed firm. He didn’t even move an inch under the light pressure of your palm.

“Don’t go. Please, Y/N.”

“First name basis when you’re not inside me? Must be real serious,” you parroted with a half-decent Scottish accent, though you didn’t miss how his begging affected you.

You turned to him now your trousers were done up. Your smile dropped; the “but” lingered on your lips as it saw Soap’s expression. You’d seen this man in pain, furious, over the moon, in bliss. But this was the most open, the most vulnerable, you’d seen him. Wide eyes peered at you in the low-lit room, letting you see directly through into his mind and its unsettled state, framed in that five o’clock shadow that had sprouted on his cheeks during the mission. It aged him. It made him look as weary as he felt.

His final plea of “I don’t wanna be alone, not tonight” uprooted the core of what this whole deal was about: stress relief. Soap still had stress that needed relieving, only it wasn’t with the usual fuck and funnies that you were used to.

You’d turned to him initially because you wanted to not think. Soap was wonderful at distracting; he always unwound you so easily, grounding you with his quips and that gorgeous drawl he spoke in. Perhaps you’d been neglecting him. Or perhaps you were leaning into this arrangement too much. The latter occupied your mind more. Were you getting in too deep?

“I need the toilet,” you whispered. Your eyes dragged up from the quiver that crossed his bottom lip and you finished buckling your belt on the other side of his bedroom door.

You were somewhat certain of why you were treating Soap’s request like a confession of love, because, in a way, it was. Admitting you need help that can only be given by a certain someone, that’s trust beyond the bond forged on the battlefield. And cuddling? Kissing you goodnight? His open expression you caught him wearing before he snuck in a quip? All things that had come before this night that had added up to support your conclusion.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before – leaning into the romantic side you’d already been sharing with each other. In fact, a bystander would probably call out how the only thing missing from your relationship was that very label.

A fear of commitment wasn’t what was preventing you. But the paperwork alone would be a pain in the arse. Then there were the comments other people would make. Although not from Ghost or Gaz, besides some light ribbing. Price probably wouldn’t have much to say either. That risk of getting caught leaving Soap’s room, it hadn’t even crossed your mind as you left him tonight.

You were still silently pondering as you squatted on the toilet, completing your post-hook-up routine. Soap’s forlorn face was one you didn’t think you could recover from with a good night’s sleep. Facing him tomorrow at breakfast, sparring, trusting each other on the job and in the gym, it seemed the longer you left this the worse it would get.

Soap was facing away from the bedroom door for a split second before he sat up to face the sliver of light from the hallway, his body shrouded in your silhouette. He didn’t speak. He just watched as you closed the door, undressed, and returned to his side. There wasn’t a lot of room in the bed, so he turned back on his side and you embraced him around his middle, his soft skin pitted over muscles and under scars.

“I woulda agreed to stay if you removed all your bravado quicker,” you whispered.

“I’ll remember that next time.” And he squeezed your hand in his.

The temptation to joke about his hair again crept in your throat alongside the tickle in your nose that it had caused, but now didn’t feel like the time. You stored it away for next time – there was always a ‘next time’ – and instead, between his shoulder blades, where the muscles folded in a neat crease down his spine, you pressed a kiss.

[yunggoblin]

NEXT WEEKS FANFIC FRIDAY POLL!!

fff

[gloomwitchwrites]

By the Belt (3 of 4)

Mechanic John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: married couple, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Soap needs a distraction, and you’re going to give it to him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // by the belt masterlist

It’s Sunday. John’s shop is closed on Sunday.

Even so, he’s always working on something, his hands unable to lean into idleness for a moment. They desire something to hold, to tinker and learn and explore.

It’s the late afternoon, and you stand in John’s personal garage located at the back of your shared property. His actual shop is nearby, just a mile or so down the road. This is sacred space. The place he goes to work on all sorts of personal projects. You are off to the right of him beside his knees. John is on his back, partially submerged beneath a lifted car.

That always makes you nervous, even though you know he’s careful about his safety. You always imagine the machine keeping the car aloft breaking, sending the vehicle down to crush him. The car itself is vintage, a special project that John has been working on for months. The paint is stripped and its mostly bare bones.

Beneath the car, you hear John sigh heavily. He rolls out from under the car, the wheels on the rolling bed squeaking as he does so. When he notices you standing there, he immediately grins.

“Hello, wife,” he croons, sitting up and draping his forearms over his bent knees.

“Hello, husband,” you reply, matching his tone. His smile widens and a warmth blooms in your cheeks. “Thought you could use a break.”

Grinning, he pushes up to standing, crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of break?”

With boldness in your blood, you reach out and slide your fingers in the belt loops of his dirty jeans. John stumbles forward, nearly knocking into you. That grin briefly transforms into surprise before settling into a sultry smirk.

“Oh, aye. I could use a break.” He leans in, your mouths meeting in a lovingly gentle kiss that warms you right down to your toes. When he breaks apart, that lovely grin is back. “But I’d hate to dirty your pretty skin with my hands.”

You tug on his belt again, smiling. “What if I want to get dirty?”

John laughs, his stained, oiled fingers hovering just shy of your skin. “You sure, love? Because I can do that.” Your answer is a brief yank on his belt. John shakes his head. “I warned you.”

You unthread your fingers and John makes a turn-around gesture. You comply, eagerness in your bones.

“Bend yourself over that table.” John points directly in front of you. It’s a workbench. There are a few tools but they’re off to the side, leaving the middle completely open.

Stepping up to it, you place your hands flat on the surface, bending forward, the angle forcing you up on your toes. John leaves you there. Lingering. Hanging. You have no idea if he’s watching you and enjoying the sight, or if he’s simply turned around and walked right out of the garage.

But you have your answer when John’s voice floats toward you.

“Lift up your dress,” he instructs, some rasp in his tone. He does not touch you, but you feel his presence. He’s close. You swear that you can feel his heat of the backs of your thighs as you reach back with both hands and lift your sundress up to your hips.

You are exposed to him. Utterly bare.

“Fuck. You dirty girl,” croons John, and you know exactly what he sees—or rather, what he doesn’t. “All bare under there. You knew what you were doing. Didn’t you?”

You did. You absolutely did.

Still, John does not touch. You hear the soft crinkle of his jeans as he goes down on his knees behind you, his warm breath brushing lightly against your pussy as he exhales.

“Spread for me a bit.” You shift your legs apart slightly. “Good,” he praises. “Like that.”

The moment you’re in position, John’s tongue parts your pussy with a slow stroke. He begins at your clit, moves upward, dipping the tip of his tongue into your sex before retreating. His hands rest on the table on either side of you, unmoving. Staying true to his word, John isn’t dirtying your pretty skin, but doesn’t mean he might not lose some control and touch you anyway.

Really, that’s what you want after all.

Using just his tongue, John traces circles, swirls up and down your sex, moves in languid motions that have you guessing. Every nerve is burning up like a sparkler. Your husband is teasing you, and fucking enjoying that he’s doing so.

He leaves nothing untouched, nothing untasted. Whimpering, John lightly kisses your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. It’s not nearly enough.

“Stay still,” he chuckles, when your hips buck with wanton irritation. “Let me finish my meal.”

John’s mouth promptly returns, and you know you’re done. Utterly done. Brain dead. Air rapidly leaving a balloon. He sucks on your clit, then penetrates you with his tongue, only to do it all again. With each, he sucks just a bit harder, bordering on painful pleasure.

The next one has you nearly coming off the table.

“I’m gonna fuck you after this, love,” groans John. “Bloody hell, you’re sweet.”

He dives in and your nails dig into the tabletop, your voice cracking as you orgasm. You feel his smile against your flesh before his mouth disappears from it, only to be replaced by the familiar sound of unzipping jeans.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance but doesn’t penetrate. John lightly guides the head back and forth through your slickness, the sound of it echoing loudly in the garage.”

“Will you be a good girl and take it?”

You nod enthusiastically, strands of your hair shifting to stick against the back of your neck. “Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

With a low moan, John starts to press in, your body not resisting, only wanting him inside. You both groan loudly as he bottoms out. Adjusting, John places his hands firmly above your head, anchoring himself.

He breathes deep, and reaches for your wrists, one at a time, trapping them against the table. John rolls his hips, thrusts lightly against you. It’s the perfect angle. You feel everything.

John increases the pace. Those light, almost shallow thrusts become languid and long, hitting deep when your bodies come together. From there, his thrusts turn sharp, a smacking pace that stings your flesh. You hardly care. John’s cock inside you is heaven, the thing just to ease the lust in your bones.

Every stroke is lovely, sending shivers of pleasure through your limbs. Your little moans become breathy exhales, your words leaving your lips silently, delivered only to the quietness of the air.

John’s head dips, his lips brushes over your exposed shoulder as he continues to thrust. “Gonna come inside you, love.”

It is not a question, and you will always say yes even if he asks.

His last few thrusts shake the table, the legs scaping against the concrete just before John holds his hips flush to yours. The groan as he finishes comes from deep within his throat. It’s a primal sound.

Glancing up, you watch as his grip on your wrists shift. He’s left some of that grease behind from working on the car on your skin. He said he wouldn’t mar it, but he couldn’t resist, and that feels like a victory.

John presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you tilt your head in his direction, seeking his gaze, even as he keeps himself inside you.

“Good break?” you murmur.

John chuckles. “Oh, aye.” He shrugs, nods toward your wrists. “But we need to get clean.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @miaraei @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06

[konigsblog]

soap mactavish would eat someone else's cum out of you, sorry not sorry... 🫤 he's into being cucked, he'd watch from afar, tied up with rope by his lieutenant, watching simon riley – his superior – fuck you! all while you're moaning simon's name, telling him how good it feels while johnny burns with jealousy, his eyes glistening and cheeks tearstained as he rocks his hips against nothing, feeling overwhelmed and accidentally cumming in his boxers at the sight in front of him.

afterwards, he will cry into your pussy, crawling towards you and sniffling, eating you out while you degrade him for being so perverse and gross. he's so horny and feels so ashamed and humiliated that this turns him on, almost jealous as he repeats your words in his head. his lick and curl his tongue deep inside your swollen cunt, eating simon's cum out of you before making out with you, his lips swollen and puffy, tasting like simon's semen; bitter. :(

and yes, it's extremely embarrassing for poor johnny when he sees simon during deployment, getting teased for being a cuckold. :(

[blingblong55]

Men advice w/John 'Soap' MacTavish

R/N: It's just so hard because men today want to get chased

Soap: okay, call the police on them

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

R/N: if a guy asks me for my body count, what do I do?

Soap: ask them how many men his mum has slept with

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

R/N: what if a man says he likes a somewhat submissive woman?

Soap: tell him you like a somewhat wealthy man

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

R/N: but do men like women with stretch marks? what if they don't like plus size girls or super skinny girls?

Soap: *he sighs* men like men, especially when they get locked up, so your precious body doesn't matter

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

R/N: how do I know if a man is lying?

Soap: if his lips are moving

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

[midnight-moth-musings]

The Butcher's Boy, Part 2: The Alley

John "Soap" Mactavish x reader, medieval au

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

---

In the following days, I find myself lost in endless daydreams of my meeting with him. Blue was previously a least favorite color of mine--one would say I almost despised it. But now? Now I find myself evaluating any shade of blue to find a color matching those captivating eyes. No shade of fabric in my wardrobe, nor in my home has managed to match it. Perhaps the sky has come closest? Over time, I find myself yearning for a dress made of the same blue--something to tie me back to what I felt in those brief moments with him.

I awaken one morning with a sense of purpose. Quickly, I dress myself in the first dress and cloak I find in my wardrobe. I carefully tip toe down the gaudy stairs of my home--which are far too endless for my taste. I reach the end and carefully look into the foyer for the presence of my mother. I mentally clap myself over my back to celebrate my luck as she is nowhere to be seen. With a wide grin, I pull my cloak over my head and leave my home quickly.

I enjoy traveling by foot and walking among the common people in town, even if it was forbidden. My mother has always shown distaste for interacting with those she deems below our family--even turning her nose up at the possibility of walking among them. Even as a child I have always enjoyed running along the stone paths and interacting with shopkeepers. I suppose I understand why mother is often exasperated with me. Ladies do not run, ladies travel by carriage. Rolling my eyes dramatically at the voice of my mother replaying in my head, I continue walking along the path until I find myself lost in an alleyway. I pull my cloak down as I look up at the stone walls surrounding me. I mentally pinch myself in frustration as I turn to continue finding my way to the seamstress.

"What is a pretty creature like you doing 'ere?" I am snapped away from my thoughts by the gravelly voice of a man stumbling closer. My eyes narrow and my nose scrunches as I inhale the pungent smell of ale increase with his approach. Taking a step back from him, I find my back hitting the stone wall behind me. The man comes further in view and I feel my heart drop at the sight of him looking up and down my form with a vile grin.

"I am sorry sir, I only took a wrong turn." I try to smile kindly while moving to step past him. I gasp as I feel his large hand envelope my wrist, tugging me to a stop.

"Leaving so soon?" The man leans closer and I feel bile rising in my throat at the stench of him. "Pretty lady like you shouldn't be left all alone." I begin to tug my arm away, kicking at his shin as he only holds me tighter.

"Let me go!" The man groans in pain as I hit him with my other elbow. His grip loosens and I immediately step past him--only to be pushed down to the ground as he shoves me down roughly. I mumble a string of curses as my palms hit the stone and I hurriedly scuffle backwards. "Please..." I let out a whimper, looking up at the man fearfully.

"Aye!" My head snaps up as I hear the loud voice of another person booming from the end of the alleyway. Before my eyes can focus on the figure, they come rushing down and quickly tackle the man. He is knocked down in a series of loud punches, and the unknown figure stands up in a huff. I begin scooting my body away from the scene. Large hands reach out to grab me and I instantly kick my leg out in defense. "Easy, easy lass." I wipe at my glossy eyes and look up as my brain begins to register the familiar accent.

"Johnny?" I whisper quietly, meeting the blue eyes of my savior. He takes a step closer and grabs my arms to help me stand. I rest my hands on his forearms and let out a sob of relief. He quickly pulls me in for an embrace, holding me tightly against his chest.

"Shh, bonnie. It's alright." I grasp at the cloth of his shirt tightly as I bury my face against his chest, breathing deeply as I try to calm myself. I expect to be met by the scent of raw meat, blood, and steel--instead I'm met with the comforting scent of grass and firewood. After a few moments of standing in his embrace, I realize my actions. I quickly pull away, wiping at my tears hurriedly.

"I--sorry." Johnny looks down at me incredulously and only shakes his head at my apology. I suddenly feel silly by my words, turning away from him with reddened cheeks. He grabs my wrists softly, tracing over the skin of my palms with a frown. Only then, I register the stinging, bloodied skin from landing harshly on the ground earlier.

"Let's get ye cleaned up, bonnie." I find myself lost yet again in his kind eyes and only muster a nod of agreement. He leads me silently out of the alleyway and down the cobbled streets. I'm instantly comforted by his presence--his bulky frame towers over me and provides a sense of protection as we walk. Our walk ends at the door of a small home and he opens the door for me with a grin. "Welcome in." I walk inside carefully, looking around the interior carefully. The home is small--made of cracked stone walls and left with mild decoration. However as I take several steps inside, this small abode begins to feel more of a home than my own. Warm blankets and small trinkets strewn about show insight in the life of its owner.

I turn back to look at Johnny as he stands almost nervously against one of the walls. "It's perfect." His demeanor transforms as he smiles widely over at me.

"Glad ye like it, lass. Now let's get ye cleaned up." Johnny walks away into one of the rooms in the home and comes back with a wet towel and bandages. "May I?" He gestures to my hands and I raise them up. Johnny quickly sets to work, cleaning my palms carefully. His brows furrow in thought and I barely notice the stinging of my palms as my gaze lands on him biting his lip. "Lass?" My eyes flicker up to meet the blue of his eyes staring down at me.

"Hm?" I mumble, before realizing that he has finished wrapping my hands. "Oh, sorry." I feel the burning of my embarrassment and pull my hands away. He only smiles in response and I swear I notice his cheeks darken--although I tell myself it is the lighting.

"Would ye like a cup of tea?" I nod and he motions for me to sit on his sofa while he disappears in the small kitchen. I take a seat, pulling my cloak further around my body as I mentally berate myself for my staring. Johnny reenters moments later with two cups and takes a seat next to me. He watches me take a sip and smiles when I hum at the relief of its warmth. "Yer lucky I found ye earlier, what were ye doing alone anyway?" Johnny looks at me worriedly and I set my cup down next to us.

"I...wanted some fresh air." I lie. I was definitely not on my way to the seamstress to find a fabric the color of your eyes.

"Well, ye ought to let me walk ye back home. I won't let ye go alone." My heart flutters at the protective tone of his voice and I nod.

"It is not necessary, but if you insist..."

"I insist." Johnny cuts me off from continuing any further and I meet his gaze once more. I can only nod dumbly as I am again lost in his eyes. Johnny reaches a hand out to brush a stray hair behind my ear and I silently pray that he cannot feel the warmth of my cheeks.

"Thank you for helping me." I whisper softly.

I feel his thumb brush against my cheek to wipe at a stray tear rolling down and I am once again lost in the sensation. "I never want to see ye hurt. Please be careful for me, alright? The streets aren't safe for a dove like ye."

"I just...need to get out of my house sometimes." Johnny looks over at me with a frown before nodding in understanding.

"Well, if ye insist on walking about then I insist on accompanying ye." My eyes widen and I carefully watch his expression for any sign of discontent--however his gaze never wavers.

"I suppose...I might enjoy that." Johnny lets out a sigh of relief at our agreement.

We spend the next several hours talking over tea until I realize I will be late for dinner, and he walks me home. Arm in arm, we walk along the cobblestone together as we continue talking. I find myself laughing more in one evening than I have in my entire life. After we reach the gates of my family manor, I pull away from him hesitantly. "Thank you for accompanying me home." My hands fiddle with the skirt of my dress as I smile up at him.

"Of course." Johnny's crooked grin beams down at me. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants and looks down at his feet for a moment. "Would ye like to walk about tomorrow?"

I nod almost too quickly and reply eagerly. "Yes!" Johnny smiles once more before grabbing my hand and kissing it gently.

"I'll see ye tomorrow then, lass." He continues to hold my hand tenderly and I feel our bodies drift closer. His eyes flicker quickly down to my lips and I begin to pray for a kiss on more than my knuckles tonight.

Our silence is broken by a sudden shout. "Lady Y/N! I have been searching for you all day!" Clara runs up from behind the gate with a huff. I quickly step away from Johnny and tug my hand away from his grasp to look at Clara. The older woman shoots me a mild glare before noticing Johnny standing beside me. "Oh! Mr. Mactavish, what a surprise." Clara's steely grey eyes flicker between the two of us and I can almost picture the gears turning in her head.

Johnny waves at her with a smile. "Hi lass." I quickly open the gate and slip through, grabbing Clara by the arm before she can begin her questioning. I wave to him quickly and tug her along back to the home. My heart continues to beat rapidly as we walk up the steps of my home.

"What were the two of you--" Clara begins, looking at me in disbelief.

"Nothing!" I squeak, pulling her inside. Clara only narrows her eyes in response as I walk quickly up the stairs to my bedroom. I shut my door and fall on my bed in a heap. Hugging a pillow against my chest I close my eyes with a wide smile--the endless possibilities of what tomorrow will bring playing through my head.

---

-P

[cherylmaso]

as a scottish person, i really hate how you non scots portray soap.

the amount of times i've seen "scottish slang" that does not make sense or he just wouldn't say is actually astonishing. don't be cringe please just do your research 👍