#john soap cod

Soap x Ex-Reader (GN) The universe watched you two break up, laughed, and said, "Nah. Try again."

You and Johnny had broken up months ago, long enough now that you were ready to get back into the dating scene— maybe. You weren’t exactly ready for dating, but you figured you could still talk. No harm in that. No commitments there. 

Despite your best efforts to move on, you hadn’t. You had really liked Johnny; he had been a wonderful partner. End of the day? He was often away and had many secrets related to his work. And that was hard to deal with. He understood. He wasn’t thrilled about ending the relationship, but you weren’t about to make him pick between his career and you. You both already knew how that would go. 

A friend of yours introduced you to a new 'dating' app. It operated similarly to anonymous chat rooms of the early 2000s internet era. It even looked like one with a dated-looking UI and graphics, with just enough modern and sleek to let you know that it was part of the appeal and intention. While the intentions then and now were to build connections, the app focused on helping people find a partner. You didn’t quite understand how that all worked, nor did you care. 

You created an account. The profiles were limited to geography, age, gender, and a moniker- no real names. Pictures were to be of things you like, or pets, but nothing of yourself. As security, the app had you submit an ID, but it wasn't available on the profiles.

The first day you joined a small chat group of 40ish people who worked in your field, and quickly realised you would hate to date someone who worked in the same field. You needed a break from work, not to go home to it. The entire chat, despite the goal being for people to find connections through anonymity, revolved entirely around work and swapping stories. You stayed in the group, but you weren’t about to look for love or connection there. 

The next day, you joined a couple more, this time tailored more towards hobbies. A few people stood out, and you kept chatting with them and stayed in those groups. 

On the third day, one chat stood out to you, and you joined it. You still weren’t sure what possessed you to join a chat titled “HIGHLANDERRRRRRRR”, but you did. 

It only had about 30 people in it, everyone posting memes or making jokes, and the theme was anything related to “Highlander”, the movie, or the actual Scottish Highlands. Nobody seemed to know whom the chat was intended for, and most in the chat seemed confused, but everyone was having a great time, and so the laughs continued. A few people straggled in who thought it was about the Highlander vehicle. They were immediately made aware that this was not a chat for their 'fancy car lingo'. Some left and some stayed. 

Out of all the chat rooms you had joined, despite some of your hobby chat rooms having hundreds of people— the Highlander chat was the most active, hilarious, and engaging. 

You had started to form connections with a few of the people in the chat, namely ‘MacPNG’. You had asked him what it meant, and he said it was a work joke and part of his name. 

He was funny, sweet, and you really enjoyed chatting with him. It only took about three days before you asked if he wanted to DM privately and he agreed. 

Over the next few months, your chats had grown from casual conversations to more and more. You woke up almost every morning to a ‘good morning’ text roughly when you woke up, sometimes late or really early. But every morning, he made an attempt and that stood out enough to you. The only time he didn’t was when he was away for a few days or a week or so for work, and he always gave you a heads up. 

You made sure to always text him a good night and a good morning, or a brief ‘thinking of you and hope you’re well’ text, even when you knew he was away, so he knew you were thinking of him. 

Over time, you had become wrapped up in an idea of this man, and somehow, you only imagined Johnny every time you thought of MacPNG. He reminded you of Johnny in a lot of ways, but it wasn’t as if no other Scottish man in the world could be funny, sweet, intelligent, have a weird job, think ‘Highlander’ jokes are funny, and have ‘Mac’ in their name.  You needed to meet him so you could separate him from Johnny.

MacPNG asked first, oddly enough, on the same day you planned to. 

“I’m dying to meet you.” 

“I was just thinking the same thing.” 

A date was set. A date. You had a date with your mystery man. 

You floated through the rest of the week with your head in the clouds as the day grew nearer and nearer. 

As it did, MacPNG opened up with something you hadn’t expected; 

“Look, I want to be honest. I’m excited to meet and all, but I’m still kind of hung up on my ex. Things are over between us, no worries there. But, can we take this slow? Be patient with me so I can work out those feelings?” 

“Same here, actually… I’ll be patient with you if you’re patient with me. :)” 

“It’s a deal. Any man who let you go had to be an absolute bloody idiot.”

“Smartest man you’d ever meet, but somehow also the biggest idiot. It was actually adorable.” 

The rest of the night continued, and he talked about the little things he loved and shouldered a lot of the blame himself for the relationship ending. 

“I picked work, and I don’t regret that. What I do, who I am, where I belong. But… I coulda been better. Tried harder.” 

“I was on the other side of that problem. I knew his work kept him away when I started dating him, and still used it against him later to end it… It wasn’t fair. I could have tried harder.”

You texted until you fell asleep and woke up to a “Good morning! Looking forward to meeting you today!” text.

The meeting was set for late lunch. You had agreed to meet in London and organised a weekend there, so even if you had a shit time with MacPNG, you’d have a great (well, as great as possible for being in London) weekend, and you were safely away from home in case he ended up being a weirdo in person. You highly doubted it, but you can never be too sure with internet— err… app strangers. 

You sorted yourself, navigated to the airport, and made up some bland excuse about why you would vanish for a couple of hours to MacPNG. Not that he minded, you had plenty of lapses in time between messages often. The excuse was more for yourself than anything. He said he’d be gone for a bit, that he was on his way to London and would be busy, so the timing was perfect. 

After an unremarkable flight, you collected yourself and fumbled through the hellscape that was Heathrow Airport and attempted to find the express.

Much to your surprise, while sending a message to MacPNG, you bumped into the man in front of you. Looking up and offering an apology, you were met face-to-face with your ex. 

“Johnny?” You nearly shouted, eyes wide as you looked over him. He looked good, despite a new scar on his temple, but good. 

“Oh, you’re in London? I mean, shit, sorry, that came out wrong. It’s good to see you. The hell you doin’ in London?” He stumbled on his words and took his turn to look over you. 

“Yeah, hell froze over, didn’t it? I’m meeting some friends for the weekend.” 

“They have to be important for you to have braved Heathrow and agreed to a weekend in London.” 

With some guidance from equally confused staffers and the usual ‘catching up’ one awkwardly does with an ex bound for a similar destination, you and Johnny eventually arrived at Paddington and waved each other off. You headed deeper into London and to your hotel, and he headed off to wherever he was going. It wasn't like you asked. He rarely told you where he was or what he was up to when you were dating; you didn’t suspect he would tell you now, either. 

You arrived at the restaurant early, and much to your continued surprise, you found Johnny was also there. 

“Johnny? Twice in one day. More than I saw you when we were dating.” You ribbed, and he gave you a sad smile. 

“I— should apologise for—”

You held up your hand, “It’s fine, Johnny. Let me fuck with you a little, please.” 

He offered for you sit with him while you ‘wait for your friends’, and you rejected. 

“It wouldn’t be in good taste for the first impression this guy gets of me is me sitting here waiting with my ex.” You said, continuing to explain that you were not meeting friends, but meeting someone for a date. 

“That makes sense. I hadn’t thought of that. You saved my ass there, too.” He laughed, going on to explain that he, too, was there to meet someone for a date. 

You gushed to him, happy to know he was moving on, but a piece of your heart ached at the thought. 

With a nod of agreement, you both took tables far from each other and pretended the other wasn’t there. You both caught the other stealing glances as you waited for your respective dates. 

Time dragged by. It was time for your date, but neither his nor yours had shown. Johnny got out his phone and started typing. You did the same. 

And in some sick twist of fate, as you sent a text, another came in; 

“I’m here, at the booth in the back. I have a mohawk.”

“I’m here by the windows in the front. Wearing red!” 

You both looked up at each other from across the restaurant. You both smiled, laughed from your seats.