#john soap x reader

[whitelacedribbons]

John Mactavish, the artist whose name is known by everyone, literally. Museums compete for the privilege of housing his work. Critics spent decades debating whether his art and influence were greater than Picasso's, while collectors would spend thousands, if not millions, to own a single piece of his originals.

Yet, of all his masterpieces, one remains untouched, concealed from the public, only for his eyes.

The last masterpiece he ever completed was a portrait titled

"You."

A figure standing alone upon the canvas, clothes dancing with the invisible wind, gazes somewhere beyond the viewer, as though looking at someone only their eyes could seem to see, smiling. Each brushstroke carried a tenderness that none of his other works did.

the sunset shining solely belonging to them, it followed the curve of their face, glint in their eyes, illuminating them.

Historians, when they finally discovered it, were astonished. Some argued it was a painting of a memory, while some debated if it was a sketch.

but then came that one question.

Who were "you."?

Mactavish himself had declined every interview concerning the portrait, every offer to sell the portrait. Only after his death the world finally learned about the specific instructions he left behind.

The painting would be placed opposite the giant window he spent countless evenings painting as the sun kissed the horizon.

And there, for one final evening, the curtains were opened, golden light spilling through glass across the empty room, finding the portrait, one last time.

Then the curtains were drawn, and the portrait was covered for the rest of eternity, never to be revealed again.

The world wondered, made theories, looked for meanings, and offered fortunes. All their attempts unanswered.

Hidden behind the canvas, covered by aged wood and untouched by curious hands.

A message written in the artist's own handwriting.

Wait for me. I'll be there soon, my love.

—John MacTavish.

[slater-baby]

How Johnny Mactavish texts btw

[requiemourning]

I dunno if I'm gonna get flamed for saying this but I do not like it when people over exaggerated Soap's Scottish accent in fanfics to the point that it is unintelligible. He does have a strong Scottish accent, but we don't need to translate that into text literally to the point it becomes unreadable, ffs he's already tricky to understand when speaking, i don't need a brain aneurysm while trying to read some fanfic as a past time

[requiemourning]

cw: mentions of sex, canonical character death, angst, sort of ghost x reader (can be read as platonic) not proofread, a teensy bit of ghoap if you really squint,

John "Soap" MacTavish who always wanted to be a father.

John "Soap" MacTavish who is the first one to bring up kids in your relationship, eyes twinkling with that loving curiosity and hope as he talked about wanting two, maybe even three wee bairns running around your modest family home near the edges of Glasgow.

John "Soap" MacTavish who knows he'd be a great father, he'd make sure of it— helping out in any way he can, making sure that his children grow up knowing what a father's love looks like. He whispers those promises so sweetly in your ear that night, promising to put a ring on that pretty finger, and put more than just one of his children inside your womb to see you all swollen and pretty with his offspring.

John "Soap" MacTavish who fucks you like there is no tomorrow, planting his seed deep inside you to make sure it takes, to make sure that when he comes back he sees your belly swollen and rounder than it was before.

John "Soap" MacTavish who leaves with a loving kiss to your soft lips, promising to be back as he whispers your name like it is the very thing that reminds him why he has to return home safe and sound— which to him, it very much is.

John "Soap" MacTavish who breaks his promise after being shot clean in the head by Makarov, taking his last breath underground while you were at home crying at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test you'd just taken, unable to wait any longer to tell your sweet Johnny that he would be a father soon.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who has to break the news of your beloved's death, who holds you in his arms while you bawl your eyes out, wondering if your life would be worth living ever again without the man you had spent the past few years loving more than yourself, or anything else for that matter.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who promises to stay by your side, because he still hasn't forgotten that conversation with Johnny where he asked Simon to take care of his sweet girl if anything happened to him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who helps you raise the little MacTavish growing in your belly, who holds you through sleepless nights and the little bairn after his birth when he won't stop crying, because as much as Johnny would have loved to be the one to do so, he's not here anymore, and Simon is the kind of man who never goes back on his promises.

[backtoarkansas]

fwb!soap mactavish (NSFW)

fwb! soap who you’d met at your college bar when he was almost too old to be there— he’d slinked up to you, bought your drink and took you home.

fwb! soap who texts you like a frat boy when he gets home from deployment, lonely and horny— hey u up? just got home ;) you could be out with friends, celebrating a birthday, but you’d drop it all and run to his rinky dink little bachelor pad.

fwb! soap who kisses you the minute you knock on the door, teeth pulling on your bottom lip and warm breath smelling of cheap beer. you want to ask if he’s been with women while stationed, but you know better.

fwb! soap whose calloused fingers make purchase on your hips- he mutters against your mouth dirty praises of how he’d missed you, how beautiful you are— it lets you close your eyes and for you moment pretend. pretend he’s your boyfriend.

fwb! soap who is basically allergic to missionary. he fucks you hard, pelvis slamming against the meat of your ass. he presses your face into the pillow, refusing to look you in your eyes. it’s just too intimate.

fwb! soap who will lock eyes with you across the bar. you’re there with your friends, and he’s there with his. his friends don’t know about you— yours know about him. they hate him; constantly telling you how you deserved better. you didn’t want better. you wanted him.

fwb! soap who watches with clenched fists and jaw as gaz walks up to you at the bar counter and buys your drink. he’s sweet, and handsome. soap saunters up and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the bathroom with him.

fwb! soap who makes you grip the sink with white knuckles as he drills into you from behind. his hand on your jaw forces your eyes forward, glued to the reflection as he defiles you; his other hand splayed across your belly.

fwb! soap who finishes inside of you— pocketing your panties and grinning proudly. he knows you’re his. he leaves you in the bathroom, with a firm smack on your ass and his cum dripping down between your thighs.

fwb! soap who returns to his friends like nothing happened, knowing damn well you’re going home with him tonight.

[imshymorph]

your tbi!johnny piece is so yummy i love it!! i wish for more… 🫠

small heads up, pretty sad/angsty and sort of stream of though so no really beta read

Thinking of the guilt you feel for a long time after tbi!johnny gets out of the hospital. Of the weight that seems to press on your chest and shoulders since his eyes opened, lacking the clarity and spark that characteristically brightened them up until the bullet.

Of having to hold tears back when you murmur an excuse to get a few minutes to yourself in a different room. Fists balling up tight and roughly wiping any droplet that dares make its way down your cheeks. Because it hurts, but you’re not the one suffering the most out of the two of you.

It takes more deep breaths that you can count, having to actively push down the pain that makes your heart clench every time you realise that’s not your Johnny.

It’s such a strange kind of grief, having someone still there, who lights up and feels drawn to you as soon as you enter the room; and still, somehow, knowing it’s not them. Because the eyes never lie, and there’s something in the way his quickly shift over your face, how his smile wavers a bit from time to time, how he waits for your reaction to have on of his own that tells you Johnny knows he’s supposed to feel like this towards you but not why.

It’s exhausting in the most painful way, having to hold up a supportive front while he gets lost in the flat you’ve shared for so long. Having to guide him through conversations that relate to simple topics because the brain fog has taken the ability to follow the deeply complex issues he so easily used to handle.

It’s not resentment because you could never hold it against him, someone who had always put taking care of you on the forefront of his priorities. Someone who would have moved heaven and earth if he had known this would happen, just to avoid putting that weight on you.

There had been many late night conversations before the accident, many whispered confessions of fearing the possibility of ever forgetting. It ran deep in the family, a proverbial Russian roulette that could go off without the pull of any triggers. Something that just waited in the shadows, and without asking draped itself over the mind, covering it in a dark cloak.

It had been easy to shrug off then, when it was something long down the line, when the hope of medical advances still clung to every word. It was something you’d deal with eventually, together. Something that, as painful as it could be, would come with the natural progression of your shared lives, that would be worth it if it meant growing grey and old together.

Instead life had taken that wishful comparison too seriously, and with too much scorn, a bullet had ripped the future you’d expected right out of your hands.

Despite knowing it should feel best, the small moments of clarity were the ones that pushed the balde in deeper than it had ever been. Those few times when he’d gather you close, hold you as if the thick cloud that blurred his thoughts would cover you at any given moment and fully take you away.

He’d whisper about it then, the things he did remember. The warmth in his chest when he had you close, the feeling of belonging and purpose he felt with you, how you gave him hope after everything else had been ripped from him. If anything a small relief, the fact he wasn’t scared anymore, that even if he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moments he knew the good ones outweighed everything else. The quiet after was full of understanding, of a companionship that would manage to make it through, even if the both of you lost key parts of who you used to be in the mean time.

This is where it left you now, sitting at the kitchen table beside the man that undoubtedly still was the love of your life, just not the same one you had fallen in love with. One of your hands smoothly rubbing his back in both comfort and encouragement, watching as trembling hands made the effort to pile small blocks without letting them topple over.

Your head moves to rest on his shoulder, your voice hopefully staying steady despite the way your eyes glass over, retelling the story of how you two had met for the nth time in hopes that the details could manage to reach him through the fog. Bracing for impact at the same time, getting ready to do the exact same thing the next day and the one after that.

a/n: hey anon! sorry cause it’s been pretty long since i got this ask (and thank you for taking the time to send it) but tbh this series is sort of my way to cope and process some really personal things so it’s taken me a bit to get around to writing more. hope you enjoy it anyway, the au is definitely staying in my rotation, just won’t be able to say when the next one is coming

Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Askbox is open. Do not copy, repost, plagiarize, translate or feed any of my work into ai.

[codfanfics]

Brothersbestfriend!soap knowing he shouldn't want you, his eyes shouldn't follow you when you walk around the house that Ghost (your brother) invited him in. Soap who quietly admires you from afar, his heart beating hard when you even look his way. Soap who would almost risk Ghost beating his ass just to have one taste of you.

[codfanfics]

Traumatized hybrid|oneshot|

|18+|K-9hybrid!user x ptsd!soap

Hybrids were treated more animal then human. Most used in the military or some sort of service. Where their lives were thrown into the worst of it. Because you were all just animals.

You had the unfortunate life of a K-9 hybrid. Trained to run into an active battle field as a pup and to not ask questions. Your handlers told you almost every day that you were a dog, below them in every way. Still, for a while you had a twisted sense of loyalty to them.

Until the worst happened. Your sqaud was ambushed on a mission deep in enemy territory. Everyone dead around you. Not you though. But you had to watch as everyone was shot down. Lives gone in a blink of an eye. You survived with two gun shot wounds to the stomach and leg.

But it left you scarred for life. Both mentally and physically. You couldn't walk right anymore. Could barely complete training exercises after four months of recovery. And mentally you couldn't handle loud noises anymore. Every time a shot went off, the past played like a slow motion movie in your head. Repeating over and over that you could have stopped it if you were actually worth anything.

So the military discharged you without another thought. Forcing you to stay in a shelter. Because who would take in a traumatized unpredictable hybrid? No one sane.

The kennel was small, big enough to fit you a small thin bed and a toilet in the corner. No privacy. You could smell the last hybrid that had been in there. Full of fear and desperation. But you were already resigned. Succumbing to your fate of having your story end in a cage just like it began.

Until you heard voices coming down the hall. Almost no one came down here unless it was to feed you. You lifted your head, groggy from sleeping half the day away.

"Nah, I'm more of a...working dog kinda person, y'know?" A voice said with a chuckle. The first thing you noticed was his accent. Your curiosity was piqued.

"Well, we have a few." The owner said, walking by your kennel. The man walked with her before he paused at your kennel. Your ears atop your head lifted. He had a bandage around his head and a mohawk and that made you all the more curious.

"Oi, who's this lassie?" He asked, taking a step closer. His eyes were as blue as the ocean. Your head tilted.

The woman sighed, looking at you with pity. "I don't think you'd want her-"

The man jerked his head to look at her. "And why is that?"

Her eyes widened briefly. "She was a K-9 in the army. Discharged a little under 5 months ago for ptsd and inadequate training scores."

Shame hit you hard. This man would walk away, knowing you would be far too much work. So you laid your head back down and curled up, your tail in between your legs.

"Aye, you're just like me, ain't ya girl?" He said fondly. He put his hands on the door. "I'll take her."

The woman sputtered. "With all due respect, she's going to be a big responsibility-"

His gaze cut right through her. "I said, I will take her."

☆

You learned his name was Johnny but his friends called him Soap for only reasons you could guess. He prodded a bit for some questions. You answered quietly or maybe not at all. He still didnt know what happened to cause you to be there in the first place but he didn't ask much.

But he was surprisingly...open towards you. Told you his head injury was from an op gone bad and he was shot and miraculously survived but had to be put on leave due to that and his declining mental health. You were his emotional support pet now. You were a bit antsy to have that label. You had no idea how to comfort. How to be there and soft.

His apartment was in disarray. Not dirty, just nothing put away. Laundry on the couches along with a few glasses of water on the tables, shoes scattered, a few dishes here and there.

You sniffed quietly, old habits dying hard. Tail tense behind you. "Don't worry, pup, there's no bombs here. Unless you count the leftovers in the fridge." Soap joked, setting down the bag that you came with.

Those leftovers would definitely be smelling bad soon.

You stood there, kind of awkward as he unintentionally slammed the door shut. You flinched. You were used to be told where to go and how to behave.

You watched as Soap sat heavily on the couch. Suddenly looking troubled. His brows furrowed and leg tapping. He noticed you staring with rapt attention. "Would you like to sit?" He asked.

Not really wanting to say no to someone who got you out of that hell hole, you tersly sat next to him. Back as stiff as a board.

"May I touch you?" He asked. He sounded breathless. But he hadn't been doing anything strenuous. Your ears flicked. His heart was racing. How would an emotional support pet even respond? You swallowed hard and nodded.

His rough hand gently stroked down your back, remaining respectful. Soap stared at the wall for a long moment, hand never stopping. You whined softly, hating you could just smell the tension radiating off of him.

But you didn't know what to do. How to be more gentle and comforting. All you knew was battle fields and how to load any gun without looking.

After a long moment, he came back, letting out a long breath. "Let's go get you settled into your room, aye?"

You nodded and followed him down a short hall where three doors were. The very last he told you was his bedroom, the right was the bathroom and the left was now yours.

There was a full sized bed there was pillows and blankets, a closet with a few non descripte clothes hanging and a mirror to the side. "I hope ya like it. It's not much but it's better then the shelter, yeah?"

You nodded, a bit choked up. You'd never really slept in a big bed like that. Usually mats or bunks where the mattress was paper thin.

"You get settled in. I'm gonna make some dinner- or well, heat up some hotdogs." He said, taking a final glance at you before walking away.

You sighed. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

☆

A loud bang jerked you out of sleep three days later. You were on your feet at an instant, hands blindly searching for any weapon. You found a pen by your bedside and opened the door slowly. Listening intently. Your tail stiff and ears focused. Heart pounding. Last time you failed. Last time everyone died and you had to watch. This time you had to protect Soap.

There was a creak behind you and you swung with brutal force. It was Johnny who blocked your arm and caught you. His eyes were wide and he was sweating profusely. "Hey, hey, it was just the neighbors. It's alright, love." He murmured. You dropped the pen. "It got me too. C'mere."

His warm arms embraced you. And you let him. Shaking harder then you thought. Both his heart and yours beat hard against your chests. It had clearly triggered him like it did you. His face was buried in your neck, hands gripping the back of your shirt while also rubbing softly. "You okay?"

You nodded jerkily, still not really talking to him yet. "Let's get back to bed, alright?" He suggested, guiding you to his bedroom instead of yours. But you accepted it, realizing you didn't want to be alone anymore.

His large body laid down, you joined. Still hesitant but now sitting next to him. His fingers intertwined with yours with silent understanding. You were in the same boat. But you were together.