#soap ;

[soapcloth]

Soap x reader

Being mortified that your teen brother’s online gaming buddy is a man in his late thirties when it comes up that they wanna meet for a convention to attend some panels relating to their current favourite game.

Getting on the headset (much to your brother’s horror) and giving him an earful about the whole situation when the man on the other end offers in his low Scottish timbre to buy you a ticket to the con. He’s happy to pay for the hotel, transportation, meals, the whole lot— You pause and think about it… That’s not the worst idea, you’ve taken him to other events. This could work.

Cut to the convention and he’s making desperate passes at you anytime you’re alone, constantly has a hand on you ‘-so a’dinnae lose ye’’, and is more than happy to shell out on merch for your brother just to see your quiet smile when he gets all excited.

Somehow the two of you end up alone way past midnight, two halls down in Johnny’s hotel room with the big man babbling on into your neck about how he saw you in the corner of some family gathering photos that got sent his way and decided he couldn’t live without you in his life.

[druap]

!! diff version under the cut !!

+ google drive link for easier download

i also made a google drive folder so it'd be easier for yall to print/download cards in case you wanna print em n etc

includes (both eng and ru): - og version (with kisses); - no kisses version; - empty card

IDK IF KISSES SUIT HIM OR NAH SOOO YEAA

+ empty ver in case you wanna write sth else

[ddosq]

Night

[spiritusnocte]

Be careful.

[mintfullyyours]

Gimme. Please. I beg.

if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one. Soap's heard that saying once or twice.

and here you are. claiming to be his... issuance.

you tilt your head. "you don't remember signing up for the program?"

no. no, he doesn't. his eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. he'd remember that. more to the point, he'd remember whatever he did to deserve this. he looks you up and down again, disbelief and desire flashing across his face, and not in equal measure.

you’re like if someone wrung the starry slurry of thoughts constituting what makes a perfect woman directly from his brain matter, let it ferment and clarify like honey wine, put marriage papers in her hand, and dressed her in a… in a fucking… are those stockings stretching up under your skirt?

hell’s bells. you’re one part girl next door, one part muse—the one his hand can never quite shape on the page to match what’s in his head—and several shades of his favorite porn star. an old-fashioned pin-up doll in the flesh.

"you're not John MacTavish, then," you say, peering down at the papers in your hand with a small frown. "so sorry to bother you—"

“no, hold on.” he takes a step closer. “i’m him, aye. but the program...” the application questionnaire. filling it out was nothing more than a drunken bet with Gaz, but yes, he dimly remembers it. doesn't recall turning it in, but maybe he was drunker than he thought. “it's real?"

“completely real. i was selected for you based on the preferences you specified,” you tell him. you shift the clipboard into your other arm, pleasant smile turning into a frown. "but i couldn't possibly ask you to sign a marriage certificate sponsored by a program you don't even remember applying for."

oh, that is rich. you don’t seem to see the humor here. it’s absurd. have you not seen yourself? he'd be daft to pass on someone as bonnie as you.

not to mention you seem more than a little disappointed at the idea of being turned down. that fuels his ego even more.

 "you're sayin' you're a part of that military partnership program, aye? and you were handpicked as my spouse based on a few questions?"

you helpfully produce a copy of his responses in pink triplicate. sure enough, he recognizes his own drunken scrawl.

none of the questions have anything to do his preferences looks-wise. career aspirations, communication preferences, hobbies, his ideal saturday night. his sleeping habits. this is a psychological profile. CIA shite, as Gaz would say.

he doubts his drunken self read more than a few lines of this paperwork while he was constructing his dream girl in the survey blanks.

as he studies the page a little too closely, your small frown turns into a frustrated scowl. "john? um, i mean."

it instantly pulls his eyes back to your lips.

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. "it’s nice to meet you,” you say in a tone that makes it clear what you’re really saying is ‘hey, stud, i'm looking forward to the honeymoon.’

that’s your attempt, at least. but Soap sees more than you mean to show. the way you play that card--the way you twirl your damn hair--is the clumsiest, most blatant attempt to flirt. somehow, that's what catches him off-guard the most. It makes his heart squeeze. god, are you nervous? you?

he runs over the back of his teeth in the split second before his signature lazy smirk slides back across his face. "happy you got paired up with a bloke like me?"

he hands the paperwork back to you. you take it back with great relief and nestle it securely into the crook of your elbow. you’re certain he didn’t sign every single blank he was supposed to, but he won’t remember that. you’ll check the signature lines later and forge his handwriting to finish it.

you smile prettily at him. then you make it a little more coy. you should be bashful--he's handsome. "i'm lucky. you're special forces. i’m a nobody, really. if you want, you could try filing for a spouse upgrade. if you want a really good fiancée..."

“fiancée." Soap rolls the word around his tongue. "is that what i should call you?”

"well. you saw my name on the paperwork," you point out. you know very well he didn't.

before he can ask any more questions, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and pull away, walking down the hall with documents in tow. his gaze is heavy on your back.

the documents in your arm are real enough. Soap really did complete that questionnaire, just like how he remembers. getting the application turned in is what required a little creative effort.

but as long as nobody looks too closely at the military ID photocopied in the application file, they won't notice that the mostly-obscured face of the soldier who turned the application in doesn't look much like Soap at all.

...

more Soap / masterlist

[femalefemur]

i don't care if he's twice my size and could snap me in half with one hand, i need to pin him to the mattress and fuck him

[ragingbookdragon]

Soap knows he’s got the realest version of Ghost when he creeps into the kitchen at a quarter to five to see Ghost standing at the stove in his boxers, no mask, cooking breakfast, and singing along to “Sink the Pink” in a ridiculously exaggerated high pitched voice while bouncing on his heels to the beat.

[machveil]

Johnny is the type to shrug off bits of egg shell while he’s making breakfast. subsequently, he always pauses like a deer in headlights when he sits down to eat and there’s a crunch in his soft, egg-based meal

[lovethyauthors]

Ma’am 😩😩 I didn’t even THINK about scent blockers!!!! Literally amazing because yes she totally would, and yes it would totally hurt the guys and I love that - they deserve a little suffering, as a treat (to me at least).

Literally everything you write sets me off because wdym stressed? 👀 stressed enough to be distracted in the field? 👀👀 stressed enough to get hurt? 👀👀👀

Does that solidify her decision even more because now instead of just annoying them she’s responsible for them being physically hurt? All she knows is that she needs to put an end to this as soon as possible.

Hey friend. I've put off this ask a little while, because I'm sure you're tired of getting it by now, but... are there any updates on the neglected! reader (a/b/o)? I really liked that one, and though I have no issues with the second part not being done yet, a little progress update (if you want to add one) would be very cool! Thanks for writing :)

ugh i know i've been putting it off for a long time but i haven't abandoned it guys! just feeling very stuck with where the narrative is sitting rn 🥲 however, here's a little tease of the beginning of part two, keep in mind it may not be written exactly like this when i post it:

"what?" kyle mumbles, rising from john's lap to grapple with the sudden coldness that overcomes him. no one else says anything, but you can see how your words affect the rest of them: john stiffens in his seat, simon's dismissive glance has turned into a burning glare, and johnny's hand has slipped from where it was resting on his captain's shoulder, a look of confusion and panic twisting on his face.

your anxiety may have dissipated, but that doesn't make this any easier. the air feels too tense, too uncomfortable. you don't like how agitated everyone's scents became the moment you walked in, and it hurts even more knowing they didn't even try to hide it. you don't like seeing them all together here like this. you don't like that you're believing that spiteful little voice in the back of your mind jeering at you that they've been planning your departure, planning how to break the news to you that you're not worth the hassle anymore.

it only makes sense why they're all cooped up in john's office, whispering amongst themselves.

"darling, what are you talking about?" john's voice cuts through your thoughts, but you try not to find comfort in it. he stands from his seat, and you try not to reveal how much you've missed his scent despite how thick it is with stress. your omega has been quiet for a while, but now that you're gathered in one place like this, she's getting restless, simultaneously wanting to hiss at them and cling to anyone who will spare a scrap of affection.

"please, captain, just do it. i don't want to be a burden any longer." you'll beg if that's what it takes; you'll get on your knees and clasp your hands together if it means saving them from unnecessary stress and annoyance and you from further heartbreak.

the earnestness in your voice is so strong it bites at them because how could you even suggest something like that? how could they even consider their pack whole if you're not there?

but hearing his rank fall from your lips leaves a bitter taste in john's mouth and a knot forming in his stomach. it's unnatural to hear you call him that while sounding so defeated and miserable. it's scary to feel so out of control when he's supposed to be your captain, your head alpha.

to know he's let you down so much makes his alpha growl pathetically in shame; how can he even consider himself a leader?

[yomzzo]

I love you ❤️

[machveil]

I need them, ough

i like to think Ghost speak to Riley like a grown human adult, like they be tracking some criminal and Ghost behind it like "I got your six, colonel" because ofc Riley has a higher rank than Price.

While Soap babytalk to Riley even when they are working. "Ooh, smart baby, good doggy, that's it, bite that mf arm off" He cooed in the most annoying high pitch voice as they sent Riley to tackle the criminal.

[femalefemur]

uber driver soap who has a bottle of hand sanitser for people to use that he's cum into

[i-give-u--art]

They doomed my fucking yaoi

[postm0rt3m]

I LOVE SOAPGAZREADER MORE PLS

Love love loooove the whole ‘you’re dating one but surprise, he’s a package deal’ trope for Ghoap but something about it with SoapGaz is so good. Your hot boyfriend Gaz and his single friend who won’t stop third-wheeling your dates.

Begs you to all go out together so he doesn’t have to go alone and suddenly he’s buzzing between the two of you, desperately kissing you both with tongue and teeth.