Hey So Protip If You Have Abusive Parents And Need To Get Around The House As Quietly As Possible, Stay

this is so adorable i love it jdjsjdj

Pilot's Charm | John Soap MacTavish x m!reader

@guardkeywolf asked: Male Reader X Soap where he gotta go on a mission and Soap can't come so he asks him to Kiss him and he does get lucky on the mission!!!

"Kiss me once more, for good luck”

(Imma probably request one more lol)

summary: it's hard to date a pilot, Soap knows that more than anyone, he knows it's hard and he knows how difficult it can be at times.

tws: swearing, mentions of violence, smoking

Watching his boyfriend go off to war was never going to be easy for Soap, as even though he went through it himself and he saw the front lines more times than he could be bothered to count, he didn't know the experience of what it was like to be up in the air, he didn't know the experience of RAF pilots and what you had to go through; he worried a lot, he panicked and he never slept the night before your deployment, and if you slept, he would simply hold you tightly as he stared out into space and tried not to think about whether or not you would come back home. Back to him.

If he was already on the front lines when you were sent out, Soap would not cease panicking until he saw you, or until he laid eyes on that plane of yours, always able to recognise it by the painted roaring tiger on the tail; he hated seeing it fly. It was always a reminder that he could not do anything to make sure that you were safe and protected. He would refuse to rest until he could see you in person, until he could feel you in his arms and could hear your voice and smell your cologne; often, that came when you had been successful at a bomb raid or a dog fight, and had been able to safely land in allied territory. More often than not, that territory happened to be wherever the task force were.

You were smoking a cigarette as you sat on a stool in front of your plane, your recently cleaned Kukri blade sitting at your hip as you watched the task force go through some plans; you were only there for air support, but thankfully not alone, as Squadron Leader Perveen was stood beside you, cleaning his grandfather's kirpan. You smiled when you looked at his dastar, bright yellow in honour of his grandmother; it reminded you of freshly bloomed daffodils. Reminded you of home.

"I told Price," Perveen chuckled. "Any trouble from Americans, and we'll sort 'em."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Would that have anything to do with the fact that I used to be a Gurkha?"

Parveen shrugged, grinning at you. "Maybe. Probably... alright, yeah."

You rolled your eyes, taking a long drag from your cigarette and watching as Soap walked by with Ghost, both of them waving at you; you waved back, grinning ear to ear. "I fucking hate seeing John boy here."

"Why?"

"Same worry every other boyfriend faces, I guess," you shrugged. "I worry about him. A lot."

"'Course you would," Perveen hummed. "You're a Gurkha and he's SAS... but look at it this way: if he was American, you'd have to worry a lot more."

"Why?"

"Because they're fucking terrible," he pointed out with a laugh. "Americans are weak as fuck, and their soldiers are even weaker. If Soap was American... you'd have to worry about him stepping out the fucking house, let alone in the middle of fucking war. They're useless fucking pricks."

"Alright, pilots!" Price shouted as he approached, waving and clearing his throat as he held a cigar in his left hand. He didn't want to shout, but he was worried about interrupting if he didn't announce his presence.

"Alright?" You gave him a curt nod.

"Captain," Perveen copied. "What do you want from the royal air force now?"

Price smiled, looking between you as he took a drag from his cigar and watched as you took a drag from your cigarette. He couldn't stand the things, but he didn't dare to cross the RAF, especially not when they had a Gurkha on their side. "Right, we've got a plan, lads."

"Please tell me you haven't been thinking," you teased.

"Yeah, that's pretty dangerous, Cap," Perveen joked.

Price rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he silently realised how much you and Perveen were similar to his own men. "No, actually, Laswell has... but listen, and don't be knobs about how she's an American and-"

"She called football soccer," you grumbled.

"That's unforgivable," Perveen agreed. "I love her, and the dastar she got me for my birthday was lovely, but-"

"Shut it, you Muppets," Price sighed, trying not to laugh. "We're sending you boys up, anyway. At two hundred hours, we need you both to cover the northwest corner - we just need you to find one thing."

"Please don't say Americans' common sense," Perveen pleaded.

"It's not," he replied, "we need you to find a lorry. It should be standard size, standard colour, all that bollocks. But it should be parked between six trees. If you can find it, we can do our jobs."

You and Perveen shared a glance, but you cleared your throat and nodded. "Sure. I'm sure we can find a lorry for you... are we allowed to know why?"

"It's being used to transport weapons," Price explained, "and we have reasons to suspect that it's been loaded up."

"So no shooting?" You asked. "Even if we see Americans?"

"We just need your eyes, pilot. Only do it if you can spare the time and you're sure you don't get caught."

"What if they're French?" You questioned. "Can we shoot 'em if they're French?"

"If you can do it without getting caught," Price agreed with a shrug. "But all we need you to do is find that fucking lorry."

"We got it," you told him.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Perveen agreed. "Especially if we can shoot a few yanks while we're at it."

You snorted as you tried not to laugh, bidding the Captain goodbye and making a few extra jokes with Perveen while you finished your cigarette, but when you chucked the end aside, you got up, and cleared your throat; you knew where Soap was, but the very moment you laid your eyes on him, you cleared your throat, and squatted down in front of him as he sat on his bed.

"Hey, Champ."

"Don't fuckin' pull that nonsense," Soap grumbled. "What?"

You smiled sadly, daring to sit beside him and wrap your arm around his shoulders, leaning against him as you sighed. "Price wants me and Perveen to fly."

He shook his head, grabbing your free hand and holding it awfully tightly, pleasing as he cleared his throat. "Don't."

"I have to," you said quietly. "It's my job, innit?"

"Aye, but-"

"John..." you whispered, shaking your head. "I'll be fine. It's just a bit of surveillance, and then I come back. I probably won't even be longer than an hour, I promise."

"Y'promise?" He asked, pushing you away gently, only to get a good look at your eyes, trying to commit the colour to memory as if he was seeing them for the last time. "D'ya?"

You nodded, gently cupping his face in your hands as you cleared your throat. "I promise, John Soap MacTavish, that I will come back from this mission."

"I wan'ta go with you," he whispered. "Can I not be your co-pilot?"

"No, baby," you shook your head, swallowing thickly. "Not this time."

"What can I do?" He asked quietly, putting his hands on yours as he bit back the instinct to fucking beg and plead for something, anything, that he could do.

A smile spread across your face as you gently tapped his cheek. "You could always give me a good luck kiss."

Soap wasn't about to say no to such a thing, crashing his lips against yours as he put his hands on your sides, letting you keep your hands on his face as he kissed you so gently; usually, his kisses weren't like that, but they were always soft and gentle when he knew he might never see you again. Always.

He laid you down on his bed, straddling your waist as he planted his arms either side of your head, starting to get desperate as he whimpered against your lips and let out shaky breaths; he just needed you to know how much he had wished you wouldn't go. That you wouldn't leave him. That you wouldn't die when you were sent out. He couldn't bring himself to stop kissing you, lost and drowning in the way you so eagerly kissed him back, wrapping your arms around him to make sure that he was close, but he had to pull away and break it. His lips were wet and swollen, but his eyes were still cloudy with murky worry.

"Dinnae go. Please."

"I have to go," you told him gently. "I'll be fine, Soap, I used to be a Gurkha, and I'll have Perveen with me... I'll be alright. Just kiss me once more, for good luck."

Soap was never going to refuse that, he knew it the second that you had told him and he didn't give a shit if he was going to be breathless; he just needed and wanted you to stay, even though he knew he wouldn't. He hated it when you were sent out, and he knew that he would hate to see that damn plane fly overhead when you left, too. He didn't want to be left like that, he didn't want to wish that there was a final kiss, just one last kiss that he could make sure was fucking perfect. But he knew he had to be left behind. He knew that he heard right when you whispered that you loved him before you left. It was an only an hour, he told himself. You would be back after that.

He didn't go out and wave you off, he didn't even move from his bed when Gaz and Ghost and Price had come back from seeing you and Perveen off. He didn't talk much, didn't move much. He felt sick to his stomach, his chest hollow as he held your uniform jacket close to his face; buried in the scent of your cologne and sweat. Drowning in the fact that he knew it was yours. That he might never see you again, not when it had been far more than an hour when he looked at the clock. He was starting to panic, able to feel nausea creep into his throat as his head began to feel light and his stomach gurgled and spat like spoiled milk being heated over a pan. It had been far more than an hour, and nobody had said whether or not you were going to return. It had been more than an hour. You said you would come back. You promised him.

"They're coming back," Price said when he passed Soap on his way to have a cigar. "Just radio'd in to say."

Soap looked up, a small smile on his features. "Really?"

"Yeah," Price held his cigar between his lips as he checked his watch. "They'll be back any minute now... just listen out for two blokes cursing Americans."

Soap nodded, but chased Price outside, eager to wait for you and to be there when you landed, shaking slightly as he watched the skies; he never thought he would see the day where he hoped to see that fucking plane. That fucking vile reminder that he couldn't keep you safe and protected like he wanted to. It was just about starting to get light, the sun starting to creep out from under its blanket, and Soap held onto the straps of his vest as he watched closely, listening for the engines.

"He's fine," Price said. "Just so you know, (y/n)'s fine. They just wanted to double check the area."

Soap didn't care about that, keeping his gaze on the slowly lightning blue skies as his heart raced. "He's coming back in one piece."

"Yeah, he is," Price replied, "don't worry, son, he'll be back any second."

The rush of the planes silenced them both, and when the wheels touched the ground, Price had to grab Soap by the back of his vest to stop him from running towards the plane with the Bengal tiger on it; he only let him go when both planes had landed and come to a full stop. He never saw Soap run so fast, and nearly winced when he saw him crash into you the second you got out.

Soap's arms were around your shoulders as he clung onto you, his grip was a vice as he pressed his face against the side of your neck and closed his eyes tightly. He didn't want to speak, didn't want to ruin the moment as you laughed softly and returned the embrace; the vibration from your soft laugh made him shiver, reminded him of home. That now, he was home. Now that he was holding onto you, Soap was home.

"See?" You grinned, gently swaying him a little. "I kept my promise."

Soap only grumbled in response, letting Perveen clap you on the back as he laughed. "The only men afraid of death are either lying, or Gurkhas."

"Don't tell Price," you murmured. "But, uh, we got into a dog fight while we were out there."

Soap pulled away, his jaw dropping slightly as his hands started to roam over you, checking for injuries. "What the fuck?"

"Don't worry," you grabbed his wrists gently, and smiled. "Thanks to your little good luck kiss, we managed to get out unscathed. The planes didn't even get a fleck of dirt on 'em."

He nodded, licking his lips. "Is that why you were so long?"

You nodded back, gently running a hand through his Mohawk as you dared to kiss the tip of his nose. "I'm back, though, it's fine. It's all fine."

"I love you," he whispered. "Don't make me think you've died again."

"I can't promise that," you told him softly. "But I can promise I will always come back to you."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

thinking of jesus at the gay bar again………

guy i saw on train today

look i get that periods help keep ur body healthy and all but i would rather rip my uterus out indiana jones temple of doom style than have to deal with this shit

reblog to pet the sad cat 　　　　　　 ＿＿ 　　　　　／＞　　フ 　　　　　|  　_　 _ l 　 　　　／` ミ＿xノ 　　 　 /　　　 　 | 　　　 /　 ヽ　　 ﾉ 　 　 │　　|　|　| 　／￣|　　 |　|　| 　| (￣ヽ＿_ヽ_)__) 　＼二つ

of the dims dale dimmadome

lady dimmadome

shoutout to saw for being my favorite gay romcom i love when john kramer said “yass queen you ate that” and then played lady gaga

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