John Soap Mctavish X Reader - Blog Posts

Johnny knows he's messed up when his sweet bonnie calls him "Johnathon"

pairing: john "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

You had a handful of nicknames you'd call Johnny.

Love, Honey, Baby — whatever you were in the mood for.

Johnny loved all your nicknames, always giggling and smiling ear to ear whenever you'd endearingly mention him. Ever since dating you he's never heard his actual name, even at base it'd be soap or johnny.

Until he messed up. Big time.

"We have to talk when you come home Johnathon."

It was just one message you sent to Johnny and he damn near shat his pants.

His mates knew something was up when he was eerily quiet — his usual dorky remarks and tease nowhere to be found and instead replaced by uncomfortable silence along with rhythmic thumping of his foot.

"What's got your knickers twisted Johnny?" Simon would question, arms crossed as he stared down at Johnny.

"The missus is angry with me."

Even Simon knew that was a death sentence — his mate might as well have one foot in the grave.

Johnny ran around town to gather a bouquet with your favorite flowers, candy, takeaway; he bought the whole damn city just to somewhat quell your wrath when he came home.

He hesitantly opened the door, and after only 2 second when he entered his house he immediately felt your looming presence.

"Johnathon." Your voice was stern, arms crossed, and an empty pint of ice cream in your hands.

Johnny gulped, his eyes darting from your scrunched face to the empty pint of ice cream.

Your favorite ice cream, nonetheless.

"Luv—"

"Don't. You greedy man!" You cussed at him, face scrunched in anger as your hand dug into the plastic body of the ice cream. "You ate all of my ice cream, and even had the audacity to put it back in the fridge after!"

Johnny knew he couldn't say anything back unless he wanted his bonnie to be even more angry at him, so he just stood and let you vent at him, calling him a gluttonous beast and every other name in the book (he deserved it because seriously, who leaves the ice cream in the fridge after they eat it?)

After you finished yelling at him, a bit breathless and panting, he'd scoop you into his arms — coddle and kiss you until all the anger washed out your body and you went back to calling him your baby.

He also made sure the next day you'd have your favorite ice cream tucked into the fridge, less he wants his poor bonnie to lash out at him again for his gluttony.

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