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bumblebeesfromvenus · 3 hours
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Looks like it's gonna be option 2!!
I'll get on writing as soon as I can :)
(All the cuties that wanted option 1, nothing's lost yet, I'm not one and done with Pirate!Leon after just one story 🤭)
Okay okay so,
@sweets3rial asked for a Siren!reader x Pirate!Leon a while ago (3 months ago actually I'm so so sorry)
I have two options I'm thinking about!
Option 1:
A sweet and curious relationship like Serena and Phillip from Pirates of the Caribbean: Stranger Tides (bc I love them sm)
Maybe Leon isn't a Captain but a lower ranking pirate (Krauser or Luis as the Captain perhaps?) that secretly sneaks off the ship while the rest of the crew is sleeping to rendezvous with reader (maybe some angst bc the crew isn't a fan of man-eating fish ladies??? 👀👀)
And reader isn't inherently bad, or she was, but has now changed bc of Leon and loooooovvvee
Option 2:
Leon is a Captain (Luis as second in command perhaps?) and almost dies bc he can't resist singing, shiny fish ladies (same Leon, same)
So he wants to hunt reader down (he isn't sure whether he wants to kill her or keep her bc of his curiosity) and it's more of a heated/teasing dynamic with lots of tension but they can't resist eachother in the end!!
And as much as reader wants to take a bite out of him, those blue eyes would be a shame to see become dull
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bumblebeesfromvenus · 21 hours
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Someone explain to me why they would give Carlos and Chris the same voice actor.
WHY??????
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Okay okay so,
@sweets3rial asked for a Siren!reader x Pirate!Leon a while ago (3 months ago actually I'm so so sorry)
I have two options I'm thinking about!
Option 1:
A sweet and curious relationship like Serena and Phillip from Pirates of the Caribbean: Stranger Tides (bc I love them sm)
Maybe Leon isn't a Captain but a lower ranking pirate (Krauser or Luis as the Captain perhaps?) that secretly sneaks off the ship while the rest of the crew is sleeping to rendezvous with reader (maybe some angst bc the crew isn't a fan of man-eating fish ladies??? 👀👀)
And reader isn't inherently bad, or she was, but has now changed bc of Leon and loooooovvvee
Option 2:
Leon is a Captain (Luis as second in command perhaps?) and almost dies bc he can't resist singing, shiny fish ladies (same Leon, same)
So he wants to hunt reader down (he isn't sure whether he wants to kill her or keep her bc of his curiosity) and it's more of a heated/teasing dynamic with lots of tension but they can't resist eachother in the end!!
And as much as reader wants to take a bite out of him, those blue eyes would be a shame to see become dull
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EVERYTHING SHE SAID AND MORE!!!
This is just messed up.
Like I get wanting to maybe see your idea written from different perspectives/ writers but this is not the way to do it.
We both LOVE writing for all of you, but we draw the line at being treated like a free service for your entertainment.
And if you have an idea that just won't leave your head, instead of sending it to multiple writers, maybe try writing it yourself?
Everyone can write; that's how I got back into writing.
Love you all, and you @allysunny <33
was talking to my good friend and bestest bae @bumblebeesfromvenus and she told me she had gotten the same request as me
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she posted hers around october 2023, and i think i got mine around october / november as well, although i only posted it now.
and i hope that whoever has requested these is reading this, and knows that i find it extremely rude to send the same ask to a bunch of different writers and just expect them to write it.
as Fi told me in our dms, we are NOT content machines. we have lives outside of tumblr, we have other things to do, and as much as we love writing fanfiction, it is not all we do. we're writing and posting this stuff online for free, and i personally think it is extremely disrespectful to treat us like this, to treat us like we're only here to write fanfiction and nothing more. </3
i don't know to which person you sent this first, anon. if you sent it to me, and decided to send it to someone else because i was taking a long time to write it, i want you to know that i have a life. i LOVE writing. i do it because it brings me joy, and i post it because i want to bring you guys joy. but i hate being treated like a machine.
i'm a human being, with feelings and emotions, with hobbies and a life. my whole life doesn't revolve around writing fanfiction, no matter how much i love it.
not only do i find this disrespectful for me, but i am also offended on Fi's behalf, because she told me you asked her for TWO MORE PARTS!!!! actually insane!!!! Fi is NOT a content machine!!!! she's a person too, she is a human!!! she doesn't deserve this, and frankly, neither do i.
i usually don't post "serious" stuff like this, but this situation has me really upset. it might not be a big deal to most people, but it is to me, and it makes me feel like some people view me as a content-making machine or a printer and not as a person. i know i'm repeating myself over and over again but i really do hope i am getting my point across.
i know i take some time to write stuff. i know i take some time to answer my requests. but i have a life. a busy one, i've got uni and hobbies and other activities that keep me occupied throughout the day. it's not that i hate y'all, it's just that i'm genuinely busy, and i like taking my time with writing stuff to ensure it is perfect for you!!!
writing fanfiction is my respite, and it breaks my heart that this has happened, because it means someone out there sees me as nothing but a fanfiction printer.
i know that most of y'all aren't like this and i have gotten plenty of comments telling me to focus on myself and my health as opposed to fanfiction - to those, i thank immensely. and to Fi too, of course, because she's brilliant and doesn't deserve this either.
i hope y'all have wonderful days ahead <3
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Fi my darling you’ve done it again!💗💗
Killing me over here with all this goody goody fluffness, GAHD😭
The Honey To My Moon was so beautiful, so spectacular! You captured all the love and care between Leon and Reader so well and especially the cute little funny moments. Those really helped show that Leon and Reader are not just husband and wife, but that they are the BEST of friends and that is the kind of love that I absolutely love!
I love how domestic this whole fic felt, like Leon really needs this.
And the smut…😭
It was so sweet and pure and full of so much love. I love how soft you wrote the smut, as I always do, but you truly conveyed love making rather than just sex and I am ALWAYS HERE FOR IT!!😭🤟💗💗
I will forever say this, no matter if it gets annoying or not, I love how you write for Leon. Honestly you are my absolute favorite Leon fic author and favorite author in general!! Thank you for all your beautiful work Fi! You truly don’t know how much I re-read your works, and spam them with hearts over and over!!
So much love to you dear!
~Iz💜⭐️
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IZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!
AKSKAKSODID9DOKKAOSKSKSLLLA
I don't even know what to say right now except that I've read this 1000000 times and I smile like an idiot everytime I read it again!!!!!!
Your words truly mean the world to me and I'm ecstatic that you chose me to he your favorite author 🥹🥹🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
I'm just like very teary eyed rn lol
Thank you so so much for all your support, basically since day one, I appreciate it so so much!!!
❤️❤️❤️
Love you, Iz!!!
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Hello, my little bumblebees!
Welcome to my tiny corner here on Tumblr.
You can find all of my works for multiple fandoms here <3
Here is who I write for and my request rules!
🐝••••••••••••••••••🪻••••••••••••••••••🐝
Events
Fi's Christmas Market ☃️
Resident Evil
Leon S Kennedy
Series
♥︎ Lost and Found ♧ 1. 2. 3. (Complete!)
• you survived Raccoon City with Leon, but got separated and thought he was dead. After 6 years, you reunite with him on a mission in Spain, rescuing Ashley Graham. What happens once he's pushed back into your life all of a sudden?
One shots
♥︎ Raindrops falling on my heart ♡
♥︎ Random Leon headcannons
♥︎ Sleepy desperation ♡ (nsfw)
♥︎ Rocking the Tides 🌊 (nsfw)
♥︎ Renaissance!Leon headcannons 🩷☁️ (nsfw)
♥︎ Everybody loves Somebody 🫀
♥︎ Back to me 🖤
♥︎ Brick by Brick 🎄
♥︎ Tradition and Love 🌹
♥︎ Red Ribbon ❣️ (nsfw)
♥︎ Stuffed Heart 🧸
♥︎ Siren!Leon headcannons 🧜🏼‍♂️🐚
♥︎ All I see is Red ♦️
♥︎ The honey to my moon 🌬 (nsfw)
DC
Jason Todd
♥︎ The Hercules to my Meg ♤
♥︎ Paper Rings 🩷
♥︎ Wrapped 🎁
Bale!Bruce Wayne
♥︎ BATtrayal
♥︎ My precious Jewel ♧ (nsfw)
♥︎ Dating Bruce has his assistant headcannons
♥︎ Bruce secretly being in love with assistant!reader
♥︎ Bruce x assistant!reader 3 ♡
♥︎ Burning Touch ♠︎ (nsfw)
♥︎ Deck the Halls 🎻
♥︎ Diamond Rings 💫 (nsfw)
♥︎ Bruce taking your virginity ♡ (nsfw)
♥︎ PALentines day 💋
Dick Grayson
♥︎ Nightingale 🕊
Ghost (Band)
Terzo Emeritus
♥︎ Garden of Love ♡
♥︎ Phantom of my Soul 🌙
Stardew Valley
Abigail
♥︎ Knight in shining armor
Baldur's Gate 3
Astarion
♥︎ The sweetest Taste ♤
Linked universe
The Chain
♥︎ Home is where the Heart is 🌱
Misc.
♥︎ Aching Heart left there in the Cold ♡
Call of duty
TF141
♥︎ TF141 w/ a chubby girl ♡
♥︎ TF141 getting a boudoir photo album as a wedding gift ♡ (nsfw)
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
♥︎ tit man Johnny hcs 🤍 (suggestive)
♥︎ Mo ghràdh mòr 🩶
Simon "Ghost" Riley
♥︎ Simon relationship hcs ♡
König
♥︎ Königs German specific quirks <3
🐝••••••••••••••••••🪻••••••••••••••••••🐝
There's more to come~
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Nightingale 🕊
Dick Grayson x reader
《A/N》: first piece for Dickie bird!! Truthfully, I just whipped this up really quick for my dear friend @allysunny . There isn't much I can do, but I hope this helps a little bit <33
If it's too personal, let me know, and I'll take it down 🫶🏻
~Fi 🐝
《Content》: lots of comfort from Dick. reader is stressed bc of school work. Dickie being the best boyfriend 🩷
《Word count》: 1.5k
Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.
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Not only the moon that hung high in the sky but the burning light of your laptop illuminated your face as your tired eyes ran over the words again. With a shaky sigh you closed the device and dragged a hand down your face before a frustrated groan left your throat.
Your forehead rested on your desk as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore the salty sting in your eyes and your closing throat.
"Stupid grading system, stupid classmates..." you forced through your tightened throat, hoping that your wrath and frustration would somehow reach your fellow students on a spiritual level and make them stub their toe or spill their hot drink.
Or accidently end up in crossfire from the many shootings taking place in Gotham. You weren't picky.
Your fingers threaded through your hair and tugged at the roots, trying to get the blizzard of feelings out of your chest.
Before you had any chance to stop it, a few hot tears of frustration trickled down your face, adding to the overwhelming state you were in.
The hard wooden surface of your desk started to hurt your head, pressing unpleasantly agaisnt your forehead. A dull and pulling ache ran up your neck as well, courtesy of the weird twisting position it was in. You couldn't find it in yourself to care, pulling at the strands of your hair.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Dick sighed out in relief once he slipped through the window of your shared livingroom. Patrol wasn't too rough tonight, but he could feel the soreness in his muscle setting in.
A fair consequence after being a bit of a show off with his gymnastic skills.
Your warm apartment was a welcome contrast to the biting cold Gotham nights he knew all too well. Dick wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with you and be enveloped by the love that never failed to warm his heart.
He took his mask off his face and ran his hand through his black locks, trying to distract himself from his buzzing skin. The Nightwing suit felt all too tight right now and he couldn’t wait to get it off.
His eyes fell on the bedroom door, slightly ajar, and he cocked a brow. You should be asleep. He let out a sharp breath. He'd told you to sleep. But deep down he knew you'd be up and about the second you heard the window close.
"Stubborn girl..." he grumbled, albeit with a soft and worried intention behind his words.
You could see the door being pushed open from the corner of your eye as a big block of black and blue stepped in.
"Honey..." he said softly followed by a sigh after seeing your hunched over and distraught form at your desk.
"Hi Dickie." You replied, absolutely defeated. The feelings of anger and frustration had faded and left was only the deep sadness of being treated so unfairly.
"Hey, pretty..." his brows scrunched together, not liking how sad and tired you sounded.
"What's wrong, hm? 'Told you to get some sleep." He spoke quietly, prying your hands away from tugging at your hair and replacing them with his, gently petting your locks.
His touch made it even harder to fight the tears you've been trying to hold in. All you wanted was for him to hold you and make everything go quiet, even if it was just for tonight.
You stayed silent for a moment, Dick kneeling next to you.
"Got an e-mail about that presentation.." you explained, ready to break into tears at the mere thought of it. He gently turned your head so you could see him.
"Give me five minutes to get out of this suit and I'm yours, alright? You can tell me all about." He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and you nodded your head.
His comforting touch left you in the blink of an eye as he whisked off to the bathroom. With a quick rummage through his drawer, he was already prying at his spandex prison.
Luckily, he had nimble fingers and was back at your side within the promised five minutes, much more comfortable and ready to be your shoulder to cry on.
"C'mon, sweetheart. Let's get tucked in, yeah?" His voice was gentle and soothing, drawing you in like it always did.
Dick took your hand and helped you into bed, knowing well that you didn't need his assistance physically but that you needed to be cared for right now.
You were cuddled up next to him, wrapped in his embrace and your cozy blanket while he stroked your cheek. He frowned slightly at the couple of salty streaks that had ready dried on your skin.
"Are you okay to tell me what happened?" He asked carefully, not wanting to overstep. You took in a shaky breath.
"D'you remember that project I told you about? You know, that hig presentation with lots of other people?" He hummed in response, listening attentively.
"Well... they fucked it up. None of them were prepared, they were sputtering like a rusty engine- one chick even finished her text while one member was already presenting." You complained, feeling the distaste for such unreliable people bubble up in your chest once again.
"And now..." there was a slight crack in your voice when you spoke, making Dick holding you just a little bit tighter," they're dragging me down with them. I was prepared, I did good, but I get a shit grade too now. It's not fair."
You choked on the last word, finally letting the tears spill. You were already so overwhelmed with work, with things you needed to do that you had no time for, you didn't need a grade you needed to fix just because studying was such a foreign concept to some people.
"It's not fair, Dickie..." you cried, head resting on his shoulder with his head on top of yours. His heart cracked a little. You were such a hard worker, always going above and beyond to achieve your goals. Only to be dragged down due to a chain reaction.
"I'm sorry, baby, you don't deserve that. I know how hard you worked on that. Those assholes didn't even try.." he huffed, wiping at your ever flowing tears.
"A-And now the teacher sent an e-mail which is basically just her saying how disappointed she is and that we're doing terrible." You sobbed, needing all that stress to go somewhere. Dick maneuvered you even closer to him, stroking your back at a comforting pace.
"If anything, they're doing terrible. You did great, honey, okay? You'll figure it out. And I'll be here to support you, you know that. I'm sure you can contact the teacher and work something out. But I just want you to know- look at me.." he said softly, tilting your head to look at him. It pained him to be see you so upset.
He much preferred your pretty lips pulled up into a bright smiled instead of the wobbly pout with tear stained cheeks it was in now.
"I want you to know... that everything will be okay. You will be okay. I promise you." His voice was clear but quiet and soft as he gently bumped his nose against yours.
"You will be okay." He whispered, holding you tightly as you got the last of your sobs out and your breathing evened. They were sweet murmurs against your temple as he had you pressed against his chest, stroking your hair.
Dick held you as the moon shone through the window, he held you until it was covered by clouds and you were plunged into a grey darkness. He held you and wiped and kissed your tears away even as faint peak of colors emerged from the horizon. You were exhausted with puffy eyes as you laid in his embrace, the burden on your chest lightened for now.
You glanced up and saw how dark the bags under his eyes were, but despite that, he was still smiling down on you with a look so sweet and loving you could feel your teeth ache.
"How 'bout we make ourselves a cozy day tomorrow, hm? I'll read you Pride and Prejudice, we can have some cake, cuddle all day.." he trailed off, have of it in a slur as he struggled to keep his eyes open.
"I'd love that." You sighed with a sleepy smile, tangling your fingers together.
"You can sing for me, too.." Dick yawned, scooching further down the bed and tucking himself under the blanket, with you tightly held to his chest, of course. You giggled softly, craning your neck to press a kiss to his cheek.
"My lovely, little Nightingale..." he murmured, a dopey smile on his lips.
"I love you, Dickie bird." You said softly, bringing your lips to his in a sweet kiss before sleep took you away.
"I love you more, honey." He mumbled against your lips, content as ever, with his beloved Nightingale snug in his embrace.
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You're gonna be okay, I promise <3
More of my works --> 💫
《DC taglist》: @certifiedredhoodlover @allysunny @hellonheels-x @gaozorous-rex-blog
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ATTENTION EVERYONE!!!!!
The person who reblogged this from me needs a hug. Reblog to hug the previous person. 💕
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I'M REBLOGGING THIS AGAIN BC IT DID NOT GET THE RECOGNITION IT DESERVES OKAY.
Acolyte
word count: 2.7k a/n: hii i'm going through a depressive episode and this is my fic about soap with a depressed reader cos he's my babygirl. might expand on them idk i love soap i wanna keep writing for him
Johnny is a friend of Kyle’s, and Kyle is a friend of Farah, who is your friend. And Johnny, or Soap, is here because Kyle invited him since he had “nothing better to do”. And it’s alright, he’s fun and a little loud, he talks over people but always apologises. You were a little nervous to meet him, having been promised a get-together with people you were already well-acquaintances with, but the tears in your eyes, from laughing, that is, dismiss all previous nerves.
“And then he-” He’s cut off by his own wheeze, it’s been going for a couple of minutes; him and Kyle trying to retell a story about their captain, but they keep getting interrupted by their own laughter. You don’t think it’s that funny, if anything their reactions are the thing that make you all go into hysterics. It’s hard to feel sorry for all the other patrons. 
You feel drunker than you really are, save for Farah, you only had two to three beers each. It’s the kind of silly drunkenness induced by being with friends. The forgotten UNO cards on top of the table shake as Johnny’s fist hits the table trying to catch his breath.
And the pub’s playlist keeps playing every top #1 hit from the last 20 years. And at some point you’re all performing a rendition of smash hit “500 miles”. And you’re getting giggly with sleep. And Farah’s driving you home. And she’s asking you about Johnny, which makes you giggly all over. And she’s telling you he’s single. 
And then it’s morning. And there’s a message from an unknown phone number.
“Hey. This is Johnny. 
Just wanted to let you know I had a blast last night, loved meeting you :-)” 
It makes you smile trying to figure out what to write back. Why is it so hard to sound nonchalant while also a little interested in getting to know him? 
“So did I!
Haven’t laughed that hard in a while lol”
That’s cool, right? It’s half a good response at the very least, since you get a response back.
“Wanna meet sometime?”
Oh, that’s good. At best, you get a little attention and maybe a lay, at worst you get a new friend. You keep texting throughout the day, you two fit like a puzzle piece: talkative, extroverted and active. He sends you a picture of a squirrel he saw earlier on his morning run, you send him a picture of your cat back with the caption “my asshole son” to which he replies “don’t be mean to him”. Those little interactions keep getting exchanged. On Monday, you send him a fun fact about a shark that had a virgin birth. Tuesday, he’s telling you about his fear of dogs. Wednesday is the perfect occasion for a picture of your cat, Gus, sleeping in a funny position. Thursday, your phone pings with a string of texts ranting about Glasgow City. Friday you’re texting Johnny that you’re at the restaurant you’re meeting at, a hole-in-the-wall that mastered the art of oily food and crispy chips, he replies he’s running late.
“I’m so sorry for making you wait.” Is out of his mouth before any greeting. “Are ye hungry?” It’s more a conversation starter than an actual question.
“It’s okay! No worries.” You’re just happy to be hanging out, not bothered by his tardiness. 
The two of you sit and chat, you learn he has a tattoo of a revolver but won’t say where. He laughs at the face you make while imagining where it would be. “Don’t be dirty!” He chastises, it’s within the law that you steal one of his chips as payment for the teasing. You ask where does Soap come from.
“A’m good at cleaning.” It’s a short answer that explains enough, you’re not keen on pushing the topic any further. Luckily, he changes the topic rather quickly, it looks like he’s not a big fan of silences. “Tell me aboot Gus. How’d you get him?” 
“A colleague’s cat had kittens, she was trying to find them homes, Gus was the only one left, runt of the litter you know?” He nods, listening, interested in what you have to say. “Kept pushing and showing me pictures of the guy until I caved. When I took him home he wouldn’t stop screaming, I think he might be part siamese, they’re really vocal. So, he kept me up all night, I thought he was sick or something, I even took him to the emergency vet, turns out he’s just a dickhead.” He smiles at the insult. “A very cute one, though.” You add, it’s hard not to love him even if he wakes you up at 6 a.m. on the dot.
 “Can I meet him someday?” he might if you’re lucky enough.
You might as well thank every saint, divinity, and omnipotent being for your luck tonight. He accompanies you home, only because “he’s a gentleman”, according to him. The kind of gentleman that kisses you dizzy and gets invited into your flat.
You text Farah about the events of the evening before falling asleep, it’s not kiss and tell if she’s your best friend. And in the early morning you’re both woken up by an angry Gus, whose side of the bed has been stolen by a guy that almost doesn’t fit in it. You’re cuddled on his side, one leg over his.
“Gus-Gus….” It’s a groggy mumble of displeasure, you know he only wants to be beside you, but the hour doesn’t help your mood. Still, you move away from Johnny so he can jump onto your chest for cuddles.
“He does skirl alright.” That morning voice might actually be the death of you.
“Told you. He’s an asshole.” A breathy laugh makes his bare chest move as he turns to face you.
“He’s real cute though.”
“Are you not tired?” The early morning light peeks through your window, the sun isn’t even out yet and you can’t imagine anyone that is appreciative of being woken up so early.
“Naw, no’ really. ‘M used to it.” 
It feels weird, good weird, to have him in your bed like that. Barely a week since you met, and he feels so close, more like a friend than a one-night stand, more than a friends-with-benefits. He checks the time on his phone before speaking again.
“Ye want breakfast?” Your eyes are closed again, hugging Gus close to your chest, hand moving up and down his fur but not doing much to pet him. His call of your name is answered by a groan, it makes him chuckle. He scoots closer to you, you can feel his arm coming up for Gus to sniff and the cat readjusts himself so his head is closer to Johnny’s. “Hi”.
Oh but the warmth dissipating from his body is to much, that and the soft noise of Gus’ purr drives you to fall asleep again. You only half dream, a mixture of images that won’t make any sense once you’re awake again, which happens rather soon as the bed adjusts and you feel a hand run through your hair. 
“Can I make tea?” His voice sounds softer than earlier, you nod, opening your eyes just a smidge to look up at him.
“Biscuits in the cupboard…”That’s as much as you can muster now. “Wake me up when it's done?”
“Course.” 
He left with Gus following behind, but you can’t seem to fall asleep again. That was…rather intimate. Your stomach feels hot and your chest tighter. Shooting your eyes open you’re quick to grab your phone again, Farah replied an hour ago.
“Wooo! Good for you”
“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about it btw”
“Farah”
“How pathetic is it to have a crush on your one night stand?”
Oh you don’t like that, calling him a one night stand, feels too impersonal, rude almost.
You’re getting out of bed, into your restroom and to the kitchen. 
“Good morning” He leans against the kitchen counter where your meds are,he’s looking at his phone waiting for the kettle to boil, clad in his boxers from last night, hair a mess and body soft under the morning light. Even though it’s the same body it feels so different from last night, scars, bigger and small, litter his body, it’s muscular and soft at the same time, big pecs a tad too inviting and a tattoo on his forearm. Reaching for the pills would mean standing next to him, probably brushing against—no, touching him, and that makes you nervous. Oh. You’re embarrassingly down bad. 
He stayed the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday. Next week it was picnic and football. You’re convinced any major team would be jealous of your 1-person teams and 5 meter field. He’s good, but you’re full of fear as he chases you for the ball, it’s the predator-prey kinda adrenaline that makes you score. 
“Yes!” 
“Offside! Offside!”
“What do you mean offside? There’s no one I can pass the ball to!” In fact, there’s not even a goal. You grab the ball and go back to him, looking straight into his eyes in fake defiance. 
“Talking back to the referee? That’s a red card.” He looks so handsome like this, standing tall and unmovable, even if only joking, and you let him know via a quick kiss to his lips. He’s pulling you back to his lips not even half a second after, deep and slow, giggly. “Bribin’ me, huh?” You let out a soft, happy, sigh and kiss him again.
“Wanna go home?”
You tell Farah everything over a cup of tea and a piece of cake, of course. And she laughs at you, not in a mean way at all, only friendly and amused, still you hit her arm.
And the following week it’s film night. This one’s more spontaneous than the others, it’s been a tough week at work, you want a quiet evening and some company so you ask him if he wants to come hang out, he replies saying that he’ll be there in 30.
It’s the two of you, your favourite take out, Gus-Gus sitting on the back of the sofa and Fargo on the TV. He’s not paying as much attention to the film as he is to you.
“What?” You say, turning to look at him.
“Ye’r a beauty.” You smile shyly and kick him on the leg with your foot slightly. “A’m serious. I like you a lot.” A big smile grows on your face, and it’s enough confirmation for him to know you feel the same.
Or at least he thought so. There are no plans for this weekend, not for lack of trying, that is, Soap’s been trying to text you all week, it’s a big shift from your daily texting. He misses the little life updates you send him. Tuesday, he thought you might just be busy. Wednesday he stops trying to contact you, did he do something wrong? Went too fast? Are you ghosting him? What did he do that was worth the silent treatment? Thursday, he tries calling you, multiple times. Friday all rational thoughts have left his brain, did something happen to you? Are you okay? Christ, what if you’re dead? He texts Farah, swallowing his embarrassment.
“She’s okay, I think.”
“Going through a bit of a depression episode at the moment.”
“She’s going recluse, I know she wouldn’t mind a bit of help.”
“I have a spare key to her flat if you want to come get it.”
The string of texts floats around his mind, spare key in hand in front of your front door. He’s been inside before, but he was invited in, this feels invasive, but Farah trusted him, and she knew you best. He sent you a message before showing up, the last bit of chivalry he can offer before showing up in your home, it went through, and he hoped you read it even if you didn’t reply. 
He calls your name upon entering, no response. Gus comes running up to him to headbutt his legs and meow, a quick look lets him know his water bowl is clean and automatic feeder full, that’s a good sign. His voice trembles as he calls for you again. 
“You know where she is?” Great, now he’s speaking to the cat, and he meows in response, great, an actual conversation with a cat. Gus takes off and squeezes himself into a room with the door ajar, your bedroom. He knocks before entering, not expecting a response. The room is dark except for the light coming from your laptop, empty and half-full glasses taking up most of the space on your desk, chair full of unfolded clothes and a doughnut of blankets on the bed.
“Go away.” The doughnut speaks. His heart breaks at the sad, much softer than usual tone of your voice.
“Love.” The pet name slips from his lips, he notices but doesn’t attempt to correct himself. He walks closer until he’s sitting next to you. “Can I help you?” 
You shake your head no, or what’s visible of it. “Go away, I stink.” He chuckles.
“That’s fine, smell better than the lads in base.” It’s a pathetic attempt at humour, you still shake your head no.
“You don’t have to do anything.” You don’t sound sad or angry like he thought you might, it’s emotionless, almost like an automatic generated response.
“But I want to. Want tae tak’ care o ye” He wants to make everything better, wants to fix everything, wants you happy and energetic and smiling. It’s silly how much he cares for you after barely a month of knowing eachother, scary now that he’s admitting it out loud. He pulls down the blankets for a full view of your face, his hand goes to your hair, it’s tangled, he’s careful not to pull on it. “Am gunna run you a bath.” It’s not a question, you laugh slightly and he smiles, realising what he said. “Didny mean it like that, c’mon.” 
He helps you up from the bed and into the restroom. From your seat ion the toilet, you observe the way he turns on the tap and rummages through your cabinet, trying to find something to put in the water, you assume. “The orange bar in the back.” He halts, looks for a second and comes up with it, he leaves it on the sink while he turns off the water, you grab the bar and crumble a bit of it into the tub. He looks at you and gets up, you take it as your cue to undress and get in. Johnny comes back with a change of pyjamas and underwear and leaves again. You can hear him moving around and making noise, talking to the cat in occasion, while you clean yourself, when he comes back it’s to put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You don’t know why that’s the thing that makes you break and start crying. As soon as he notices, he’s on his knees next to you, softly caressing your cheeks and moving your damp hair away from your face.
“Whit’s wrong?” 
“I don’t want you to do this.” Is no reply to his question. “I don’t want you to have to do this.”
“M’eudail.” He starts. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not!” You look up at him” I’m so sad all the fucking time and I don’t want you to have to deal with that, it’s not fair to you, you know? I don’t want you to have to take care of me or put up with me.”
“But what if I want to? Wanna take care of you, wanna put up with you.” You shake your head no, looking back down.
“Johnny, I’m so much. I get so clingy and stupid.” 
“That’s fine by me.” There’s no deterring him. He lifts your head up by your chin to kiss your forehead, bright blue eyes staring at you. 
And you realise how ridiculous this is. You’re crying in the bathtub, your friend-situationship is on his knees next to you, again, crying in the bathtub. You let out a sigh and nod.
“Okay.” 
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Thank you for the tag, Ally! <33
This made me think a little bit, I like it!
1. My face
2. My hair
3. My knowledge for many different niche things
4. My humor
5. My love for big earrings lol
There's definitely more (which makes me happy bc a couple of years ago there were none) and that's the 5 I picked! <3
No pressure tags 🩷: @vampkennedy @dmitriene @wayfayrr @coqvttes @leonw4nter @bravo4iscool
Hiii! Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool !
<3
Hii, and oh dear jksjs. Let's see:
1. My eyes
2. Lips
3. Creativity
4. My voice
5. My adaptability to environments despite my introversion ~
Imma tag some of em since some don't have the asks enabled :') but I appreciate em soo much even though we don't talk that often ❤️
@kate-ohara @del-ightfulling @smokeywhalee @ladymoztaza @spider-mar2004 @enananawoah @ednaaa-04 @sarapaprikas-blog @allysunny @pinkiemme @loonalockley
(If you're not in this list, it's not cause I don't appreciate you ok? I just suck at remembering usernames 😭 But I love my moots all the same 🥹)
(it's cause of you I keep this lil wee blog alive 🥹❤️)
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The honey to my moon 🌬
Husband!Leon S. Kennedy x wife!reader
《A/N》: I'm back babyyyyyyy. Sort of. I don't know, we'll see. This is inspired by 'Alrighty Aphrodite' by Peach Pit so take a listen if you feel like it!! FYI this can be read for ANY Leon (like most of my Leon fics) I just use RE4R Leon in the banner bc of favoritism <3
~Fi 🐝
(Pssst, my requests are open!)
《Content》: NSFW content. proceed with caution. PiV, cockwarming, creampie (don't do that) consensual groping. Very, very sweet, of course! Lotsa domestic moments with Leon, basically a collection of cute moments I think would happen on your Honeymoon <3
Reader is implied to be chubby/ has stretch marks and tummy fat bc who doesn't???? (I still love you if you don't)
《Word count》: 3.4k
Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
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─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The, not quite shrill, yet still very annoying sound of your alarm ripped you out of your pleasant dreams. With a soft groan you stirred in the arms of your husband, which you were comfortably pressed against.
After a quick rub of your eyes, a smile formed on your lips as you remembered what day it was.
You turned to face Leon, admiring his peaceful expression for just a moment before you couldn't resist the twitching urge in your fingertips anymore and you gently ran them down the bridge of his nose and over his cheek.
His brows furrowed slightly, and his nose scrunched up at the tickling sensation on his skin.
"Happy one week of being married, baby." You whispered softly, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.
A dopey grin tugged at his lips, and he pulled you even closer to him with a soft hum. His lips found yours in a clumsy attempt at a good morning kiss.
"My beautiful, beautiful wife..." he mumbled against your lips, making you giggle and melt into his embrace at the same time.
"Can you believe it's been a week already?" You were cut off by yawn that decided to rudely interrupt your sentence.
"No... feels like I just fell in love with you yesterday." He let out a soft breath as his eyes fluttered shut, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, letting his touch linger as he slipped into a moment of comfort and love.
You sighed against his skin, feeling sleep still deep in your bones, but both knew you'd have to leave your shared cocoon of affection sooner than you wanted to.
"We have to get up... we'll miss our flight.." You slurred, fighting the heavy drooping of your eyelids from the warmth that Leon enveloped you in.
He grumbled softly under his breath, something about 'ungodly early flights', which made you crack a grin.
"Alright, up we go.." he groaned, heaving his body into an upright position, with you still securely in his arms, rubbing a hand over his face to get rid of the tiredness that remained in his muscles. With a peck to your nose, Leon stood from the bed, stretching his arms and neck with a yawn.
You crawled up onto your knees, your arms comfortably fitting around the curve of his neck and shoulders as you let your lips find his again in a tender kiss.
"Good morning, my handsome, handsome husband.." You purred, making Leon chuckle.
"Are you copying me, sweetheart?" He asked with a smirk as his hands migrated down to your waist.
"It's the highest form of flattery, don't you know?" You replied with a wicked grin, feeling his fingers dig just a little tighter into the flesh of your waist.
"Yeah, yeah.." he playfully rolled his eyes as you giggled, getting out of bed.
"Come on, we're on a time crunch." You let your hand slip from the embrace of his as you made your way to the bathroom.
He quietly followed you, landing a gentle slap on your ass. You yelped at the impact, jumping forward before turning around with angrily scrunched brows.
"Hey!" You pouted, rubbing the faint red mark on your skin.
"Just crunching time, babe." He shrugged with a cokcy smirk on his face.
You rolled your eyes and huffed some words under your breath, making him snicker.
"Actually, let me help you in there." He declared, reaching you in a few strides and pushing you into the bathroom.
"What- I don't need help brushing my teeth!" You argued, trying to push back against him.
"Who said anything about brushing teeth, huh, honey?" He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up.
"Leon-"
"Whaddaya say we get this Honeymoon started early?" He said against the skin of your neck, trailing soft kisses along the column of your throat.
"No, no, no, we have a flight to catch!" You said sternly, clinging onto the doorframe.
"Oh, come on, baby.. you know how fast I can make you fall apart.." he breathed into your ear, slipping his hands underneath your shirt.
Leon tugged at your middle, firmly enough to make you struggle but leaving enough room if you wanted to back out. With the feeling of his hands on your skin and his breath ghosting deliciously over your neck, you relented, letting your grip on the doorframe loosen.
You gently slipped past the door with him and let out a soft sigh as his lips met your neck once again as the door of the bathroom fell shut.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
With packed bags, an excited attitude about going on your Honeymoon and a couple of new love bites just below the collar of your shirt, you were off to the airport.
You yawned as you watched the few city lights pass by, the streets empty. No surprise, really.
No person would willingly be up and about at this hours, except a few joggers (who were clearly insane) and the poor souls who'd just finished the night shift.
Leon's hand envolped yours tightly, keeping hold of it while the other one was loosely wrapped around the steering wheel, as you sped down the highway.
"Don't rip my head off, but.." he broke the silence, making you turn attention away from the lights flashing past the window, "you've got all the papers 'n documents and whatever we need, right?" Leon asked, slightly chewing on his lip.
You would never let him live it down if you forget your tickets and other papers just because of the desperate morning romp that had occurred because of his neediness. You would curse him to the sun if you'd had to cancel your Honeymoon purely because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.
You chuckled and whipped out a clear folder with a plethora of printed e-mails, copies over copies of important information, and so on.
"Being overly prepared runs in the family." You chirped, waving around the, surprisingly thick, folder. Leon visibly relaxed, a dopey smile gracing his face.
"So that's why the printer ran out of ink." He mused, glancing your way. You shrugged with a mischievous glint in your eyes and Leon chuckled, pulling you into his side to press a kiss to your cheek before going back to driving down the seemingly endless roads to the airport.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"Airport coffee is truly something... special." Leon forced out, clearing his throat and disapprovingly eyeing the dark liquid in his paper cup.
"That's why you get the good stuff." You sipped your hot chocolate smugly, watching as Leon cracked a grin and pulled you into his side.
"Can I have a sip?" He asked sweetly, nosing your hair. You wordlessly handed him the cup as your head went to rest on his shoulder.
"I'll always share with you." A small smile sat on your lips as you quietly told him.
Leon raised a brow at you with the faintest hint of a smirk.
"I know for a fact, that's not true."
"Oh piss off." You grumbled, breaking into a smile.
"Tell that to the cookies you didn't share. Or the leftover Pizza. And the-"
"Okay, okay! Point is, I'm sharing now." You huffed, making Leon grin.
"Thank you, angel." He hummed, placing a kiss to your hairline.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
You let yourself fall onto the bed with a thump, sighing in relief at the soft mattress beneath you.
"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a nap." You said, a little mumbled. The bed shook as Leon dropped down next to you, immediately reaching for your hand.
"A nap sounds nice." He sighed, eyes falling shut. You laid in silence and soft breaths for a moment, already starting to doze off. "We could nap by the pool." He suggested, turning on his side to face you. You rolled over in a similar fashion.
"That's just your excuse to see me in a bathing suit and lather me in suncreen." You snorted, poking his chest. He cracked a smug grin.
"Would that be such a crime? A husband wanting to see his gorgeous wife in a bathing suit?" He defended with a smirk, cupping the back of your neck and gently stroking his thumb along your jaw.
"We could get lunch and maybe some drinks..." You thought out loud, weighing your options. You'd either get a good nap and be hungry when you wake up, or you could get a descent snooze plus some lunch, maybe a cocktail and a shirtless Leon.
"Alright, the pool it is." You declared, watching as Leon almost jumped off the bed with excitment.
You both packed a little bag with the essentials; sunscreen, sunglasses, a book, and whatever else you thought you'd need.
Leon was in the bathroom, making a suspicious amount of clattering noises, when he peaked his head out the door.
"Babe?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you wear the blue one? Please?" He asked bashfully, a pinkish tint on his cheeks.
Your expression softened, and your heart melted.
It amazed you how he could straight up ask you to fuck you before your flight, but asking you to wear his favorite bathing suit of yours was flustering him.
"Of course, honey."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"... Lee."
"Hm?"
"My ass does not need any more sunscreen."
"Just don't want you to get burned." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder while shamelessly massaging sunscreen into the fat of your rear.
"Leon Kennedy, get your hands off my behind before I beat yours!" You scolded, swatting his hands away.
He grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender.
"You can feel me up all you want in private, baby, but not in public."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just doing my husbandly duties and making sure you weren't gonna like a tomato."
"... you're lucky I love you." You narrowed your eyes at him, huffing when he blew you a kiss.
"I love you, angel." He said softly, retreating to his own sun chair.
"I love you too, you cute idiot."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Your wine glasses clinged together as you sat on the cold stone of your balcony, huddle together with blankets and pillows.
It was a clear night, and a few stars decided to show themselves. It wasn't necessarily cold, but the breeze that passed by did make it a little chilly.
There was the crunching of snacks and the chatter and laughter between bites as you watched the stars and the moon illuminate the vast property of the Hotel.
Other couples might've chosen to fancy up and go out for dinner but Leon and you had chosen to do what you did best; not fit in the box.
Instead of eating way too small portions for an outrageous price while pretending that you felt comfortable in such a posh setting and simultaneously being defeated by the ridiculous amounts of forks beside your plate, you had a cozy evening with the love of your life.
You did splurge on the bottle of wine, but it was your Honeymoon, after all.
The gentle gusts of wind coming up from the coast left goosebumps on your skin and a salty taste on your lips.
"Today was really nice.." You spoke quietly, enjoying the peace of the moment.
"Yeah, I think so, too. Can't wait to spend the next two weeks with you like this." Leon replied in a soft and loving tone that almost fell into a whisper. Your head rested on his shoulder, like it usually did, your hand reaching for his.
The cold metal of his ring sent a pleasant shiver up your spine as you entangled your fingers and curled closer into him.
Leon happily obliged your silent plea for closeness and wrapped you in his arms.
"I know that I won't be able to ever put into words how much I love you, so I want you to know that deeply cherish every moment with you." You looked up at him, and his features softened as he gently held your face.
"I know you do. I can... I can feel it. Is that weird? I just sort of feel the love radiating off of you all the time. I hope you feel that when you're with me as well."
You looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky himself, the same ones you were admiring, and everything in him just melted.
"I do feel it. Not only are you my husband, but you're my best friend too. Two-in- one." You smiled sweetly, scooching further up in his hold just to be that little bit closer.
"I'm so glad that I married you." He whispered, firmly pulling your lips against his in a passionate kiss.
You'd never get bored of the feeling when he kissed you, the love and tenderness pouring from it. But there was a slight ache in your heart that you'd never be able to kiss him enough to quench the raging flames inside your chest.
You pulled away for a breath, with puffy lips and shimmering eyes that showed Leon just how much you truly cared for him.
"That makes two."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
The softness of the bedsheets on his fingertips made Leon brows furrow. He was expecting a different softness; you.
Laying majestically next to him, bathed in the morning sun that poured in, even through the curtains. He lifted his head off the pillow with a disgruntled sound, blinking away the sleep in his eyes to look for you.
There were trickles and splashes of water that gently broke through the comfortably silent atmosphere. There was a slight breeze coming from the open balcony door, making the curtains sway.
Leon made his way to the terrace and, good heavens, the sight before him was enough to make him lightheaded.
You were perched on the edge of the small stone pool that you were extremely excited about ever since you laid eyes on it, skin glistening from the water with your hair intricately stuck to your back.
That would've been enough to make all the blood from Leon's cheeks to rush down south, making his boxers feel tight, but that wasn't all. There were bubbles.
Soft, foamy suds that clung to your hips and the curve of your waist, truly making you look divine with the morning sun shining down on you. Your legs were swishing in the water, taking in the peaceful morning while everyone else was far off in their dreams.
Leon's mouth hung open slightly, and it took every ounce of power in him to stop himself from drooling, but he didn't waste any time sliding the door open further to get through.
The noise made you look back over your shoulder with a soft smile when you saw him striding towards you.
Strong and familiar arms wrapped themselves around you, trying to discreetly feel you up.
"Good morning, honey." You spoke gently, stroking over his forearms that were tightly situated around your middle.
"Absolutely great morning if you ask me." He chuckled lowly, though not failing to press a kiss to your lips with such affection it almost covered any seductive intent behind his words.
"Christ, baby, you look heavenly..." he breathed against your ear, sliding his hands towards your hips to knead at the plush flesh and feel the shimmering grooves of stretch marks beneath his fingertips.
"Thought I'd wake you up with a little surprise for being the best husband a girl could ask for." You replied sweetly, trying to play innocent as if his calloused hands on your wet skin didn't ignite an inferno deep in your gut.
He let out an amused chuckle, slyly moving one hand to the pudge of your belly and the other kneading one of your soft tits.
With a soft sigh, you let your head fall back against his shoulder.
"You look like Aphrodite emerging from the sea foam, do you know that?" He asked gently, making your head spin with the way he was so easily drowning your mind in both lust and affection.
You chuckled, turning on your knees to face him.
"Well, then... will you do me the honors and be my Ares?" You purred, trailing your hand down his chest all the way to his cock straining in his boxers, cupping the member and squeezing gently.
A groan ripped from his throat and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.
"Whatever you wish, my love." He whispered, guiding you back into the natural stone pool, watching with a ravenous gaze.
His underwear was quickly discarded, and he joined you in the water, backing you up against one of the rounded walls.
One hand on your waist, the other carefully placed on the back of your neck to cushion the hard edge of the stone
. His lips found yours in a loving manner, quite the opposite to his lusting eyes that raked over your naked form, but as much as Leon wanted to devour you, he wanted love you.
He reveled in his love for you. All he needed was to be close to you, as close as reality would allow and if that entailed him buried to the hilt inside your delightful cunt he wasn't one to complain.
Your bodies were pressed together, your tits squished up against his chest, and his dick laying heavy between your thighs. Your lips and tongues danced together like they had done so many times before, eliciting the occasional soft groan or sigh from you and Leon.
The bubbles littered on the water surface stuck to his broad back as you ran your fingers down the length of his spine.
"Can I, sweetheart?" He asked breathlessly, staring at your blown out pupils and puffy lips.
"Mhm, yes, please... need to be closer.." You responded equally as breathless before fiercely capturing his addicting lips once again.
The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance and with a shuddering breath he pushed past your lips and slid snuggly inside of you.
"F-Fuck... my perfect girl... God, I love you so much.." he groaned as quietly as he could, feeling a shiver run through him at the warm embrace of your gummy walls.
He quickly muffled himself by gently biting down on your shoulder.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you held him tighter, suppressing any sounds you might've made. Leon slowly rocked his hips into yours.
They weren't full thrusts, but they didn't need to be. This wasn't about an earthshattering orgasm that would knock the wind from your lungs, it was about feeling close and loved and his lazy and sloppy movements into your pussy did just that, with an added bit of pleasure.
Leon continued to rock his hips, dragging his heavy cock against your insides just right.
His pelvis hit your clit perfectly with each sloppy thrust, his happy trail adding to the euphoric sensation.
You were seeing stars by now.
Both of you were still sleepy and sensitive from waking up recently so you were at the brink of your edge already.
"Le-Leon.." You managed to get out between quiet moans that you were trying your best at biting back.
The sloshing of the water and his heavy pants were the only things in your mind as you felt the tight coil in your belly snap.
"Love you, I love you..." he slurred as he, too, reached his end. He came inside of you, pulsing against your insides.
The squeal that you felt bubbling in your throat was quickly swallowed by a hungry kiss from Leon.
He supported himself against the stone, catching his breath before he maneuvered the two of you around so you were straddling him, still nice and full.
"I love you so much, Lee." You hummed, your head resting on his shoulder.
"I wouldn't mind if everyday started like this." He smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple when you lazily slapped his arm.
"Mhm, wanna crawl inside your ribcage and live next to your heart.." you mumbled, tuckered out.
He chuckled and gently stroked your back.
"If anyone else said that to me I'd be concerned."
"You put a ring on it." You argued, pulling your hand from the water and holding it up to him.
"Hm, that I did." He hummed, gently taking your hand and kissing your ring.
"And I'd do it all over again."
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I hope you enjoyed <3
(Yes, I'm aware of the bad and weird things that happen between Aphro and Ares, [poor] Hepheastus, man.] Just let me have this okay)
More Leon works --> 💫
《Tag List》: @k-fallingstar @dmitriene @vampkennedy @agrerion
(Lmk if you want to be added to my Leon Tag list!)
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Shout out to all the girlies who would've gone alone to the Yule Ball
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How will I live, knowing I'll never get to read this for the first time again
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Acolyte
word count: 2.7k a/n: hii i'm going through a depressive episode and this is my fic about soap with a depressed reader cos he's my babygirl. might expand on them idk i love soap i wanna keep writing for him
Johnny is a friend of Kyle’s, and Kyle is a friend of Farah, who is your friend. And Johnny, or Soap, is here because Kyle invited him since he had “nothing better to do”. And it’s alright, he’s fun and a little loud, he talks over people but always apologises. You were a little nervous to meet him, having been promised a get-together with people you were already well-acquaintances with, but the tears in your eyes, from laughing, that is, dismiss all previous nerves.
“And then he-” He’s cut off by his own wheeze, it’s been going for a couple of minutes; him and Kyle trying to retell a story about their captain, but they keep getting interrupted by their own laughter. You don’t think it’s that funny, if anything their reactions are the thing that make you all go into hysterics. It’s hard to feel sorry for all the other patrons. 
You feel drunker than you really are, save for Farah, you only had two to three beers each. It’s the kind of silly drunkenness induced by being with friends. The forgotten UNO cards on top of the table shake as Johnny’s fist hits the table trying to catch his breath.
And the pub’s playlist keeps playing every top #1 hit from the last 20 years. And at some point you’re all performing a rendition of smash hit “500 miles”. And you’re getting giggly with sleep. And Farah’s driving you home. And she’s asking you about Johnny, which makes you giggly all over. And she’s telling you he’s single. 
And then it’s morning. And there’s a message from an unknown phone number.
“Hey. This is Johnny. 
Just wanted to let you know I had a blast last night, loved meeting you :-)” 
It makes you smile trying to figure out what to write back. Why is it so hard to sound nonchalant while also a little interested in getting to know him? 
“So did I!
Haven’t laughed that hard in a while lol”
That’s cool, right? It’s half a good response at the very least, since you get a response back.
“Wanna meet sometime?”
Oh, that’s good. At best, you get a little attention and maybe a lay, at worst you get a new friend. You keep texting throughout the day, you two fit like a puzzle piece: talkative, extroverted and active. He sends you a picture of a squirrel he saw earlier on his morning run, you send him a picture of your cat back with the caption “my asshole son” to which he replies “don’t be mean to him”. Those little interactions keep getting exchanged. On Monday, you send him a fun fact about a shark that had a virgin birth. Tuesday, he’s telling you about his fear of dogs. Wednesday is the perfect occasion for a picture of your cat, Gus, sleeping in a funny position. Thursday, your phone pings with a string of texts ranting about Glasgow City. Friday you’re texting Johnny that you’re at the restaurant you’re meeting at, a hole-in-the-wall that mastered the art of oily food and crispy chips, he replies he’s running late.
“I’m so sorry for making you wait.” Is out of his mouth before any greeting. “Are ye hungry?” It’s more a conversation starter than an actual question.
“It’s okay! No worries.” You’re just happy to be hanging out, not bothered by his tardiness. 
The two of you sit and chat, you learn he has a tattoo of a revolver but won’t say where. He laughs at the face you make while imagining where it would be. “Don’t be dirty!” He chastises, it’s within the law that you steal one of his chips as payment for the teasing. You ask where does Soap come from.
“A’m good at cleaning.” It’s a short answer that explains enough, you’re not keen on pushing the topic any further. Luckily, he changes the topic rather quickly, it looks like he’s not a big fan of silences. “Tell me aboot Gus. How’d you get him?” 
“A colleague’s cat had kittens, she was trying to find them homes, Gus was the only one left, runt of the litter you know?” He nods, listening, interested in what you have to say. “Kept pushing and showing me pictures of the guy until I caved. When I took him home he wouldn’t stop screaming, I think he might be part siamese, they’re really vocal. So, he kept me up all night, I thought he was sick or something, I even took him to the emergency vet, turns out he’s just a dickhead.” He smiles at the insult. “A very cute one, though.” You add, it’s hard not to love him even if he wakes you up at 6 a.m. on the dot.
 “Can I meet him someday?” he might if you’re lucky enough.
You might as well thank every saint, divinity, and omnipotent being for your luck tonight. He accompanies you home, only because “he’s a gentleman”, according to him. The kind of gentleman that kisses you dizzy and gets invited into your flat.
You text Farah about the events of the evening before falling asleep, it’s not kiss and tell if she’s your best friend. And in the early morning you’re both woken up by an angry Gus, whose side of the bed has been stolen by a guy that almost doesn’t fit in it. You’re cuddled on his side, one leg over his.
“Gus-Gus….” It’s a groggy mumble of displeasure, you know he only wants to be beside you, but the hour doesn’t help your mood. Still, you move away from Johnny so he can jump onto your chest for cuddles.
“He does skirl alright.” That morning voice might actually be the death of you.
“Told you. He’s an asshole.” A breathy laugh makes his bare chest move as he turns to face you.
“He’s real cute though.”
“Are you not tired?” The early morning light peeks through your window, the sun isn’t even out yet and you can’t imagine anyone that is appreciative of being woken up so early.
“Naw, no’ really. ‘M used to it.” 
It feels weird, good weird, to have him in your bed like that. Barely a week since you met, and he feels so close, more like a friend than a one-night stand, more than a friends-with-benefits. He checks the time on his phone before speaking again.
“Ye want breakfast?” Your eyes are closed again, hugging Gus close to your chest, hand moving up and down his fur but not doing much to pet him. His call of your name is answered by a groan, it makes him chuckle. He scoots closer to you, you can feel his arm coming up for Gus to sniff and the cat readjusts himself so his head is closer to Johnny’s. “Hi”.
Oh but the warmth dissipating from his body is to much, that and the soft noise of Gus’ purr drives you to fall asleep again. You only half dream, a mixture of images that won’t make any sense once you’re awake again, which happens rather soon as the bed adjusts and you feel a hand run through your hair. 
“Can I make tea?” His voice sounds softer than earlier, you nod, opening your eyes just a smidge to look up at him.
“Biscuits in the cupboard…”That’s as much as you can muster now. “Wake me up when it's done?”
“Course.” 
He left with Gus following behind, but you can’t seem to fall asleep again. That was…rather intimate. Your stomach feels hot and your chest tighter. Shooting your eyes open you’re quick to grab your phone again, Farah replied an hour ago.
“Wooo! Good for you”
“You’re gonna have to tell me everything about it btw”
“Farah”
“How pathetic is it to have a crush on your one night stand?”
Oh you don’t like that, calling him a one night stand, feels too impersonal, rude almost.
You’re getting out of bed, into your restroom and to the kitchen. 
“Good morning” He leans against the kitchen counter where your meds are,he’s looking at his phone waiting for the kettle to boil, clad in his boxers from last night, hair a mess and body soft under the morning light. Even though it’s the same body it feels so different from last night, scars, bigger and small, litter his body, it’s muscular and soft at the same time, big pecs a tad too inviting and a tattoo on his forearm. Reaching for the pills would mean standing next to him, probably brushing against—no, touching him, and that makes you nervous. Oh. You’re embarrassingly down bad. 
He stayed the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday. Next week it was picnic and football. You’re convinced any major team would be jealous of your 1-person teams and 5 meter field. He’s good, but you’re full of fear as he chases you for the ball, it’s the predator-prey kinda adrenaline that makes you score. 
“Yes!” 
“Offside! Offside!”
“What do you mean offside? There’s no one I can pass the ball to!” In fact, there’s not even a goal. You grab the ball and go back to him, looking straight into his eyes in fake defiance. 
“Talking back to the referee? That’s a red card.” He looks so handsome like this, standing tall and unmovable, even if only joking, and you let him know via a quick kiss to his lips. He’s pulling you back to his lips not even half a second after, deep and slow, giggly. “Bribin’ me, huh?” You let out a soft, happy, sigh and kiss him again.
“Wanna go home?”
You tell Farah everything over a cup of tea and a piece of cake, of course. And she laughs at you, not in a mean way at all, only friendly and amused, still you hit her arm.
And the following week it’s film night. This one’s more spontaneous than the others, it’s been a tough week at work, you want a quiet evening and some company so you ask him if he wants to come hang out, he replies saying that he’ll be there in 30.
It’s the two of you, your favourite take out, Gus-Gus sitting on the back of the sofa and Fargo on the TV. He’s not paying as much attention to the film as he is to you.
“What?” You say, turning to look at him.
“Ye’r a beauty.” You smile shyly and kick him on the leg with your foot slightly. “A’m serious. I like you a lot.” A big smile grows on your face, and it’s enough confirmation for him to know you feel the same.
Or at least he thought so. There are no plans for this weekend, not for lack of trying, that is, Soap’s been trying to text you all week, it’s a big shift from your daily texting. He misses the little life updates you send him. Tuesday, he thought you might just be busy. Wednesday he stops trying to contact you, did he do something wrong? Went too fast? Are you ghosting him? What did he do that was worth the silent treatment? Thursday, he tries calling you, multiple times. Friday all rational thoughts have left his brain, did something happen to you? Are you okay? Christ, what if you’re dead? He texts Farah, swallowing his embarrassment.
“She’s okay, I think.”
“Going through a bit of a depression episode at the moment.”
“She’s going recluse, I know she wouldn’t mind a bit of help.”
“I have a spare key to her flat if you want to come get it.”
The string of texts floats around his mind, spare key in hand in front of your front door. He’s been inside before, but he was invited in, this feels invasive, but Farah trusted him, and she knew you best. He sent you a message before showing up, the last bit of chivalry he can offer before showing up in your home, it went through, and he hoped you read it even if you didn’t reply. 
He calls your name upon entering, no response. Gus comes running up to him to headbutt his legs and meow, a quick look lets him know his water bowl is clean and automatic feeder full, that’s a good sign. His voice trembles as he calls for you again. 
“You know where she is?” Great, now he’s speaking to the cat, and he meows in response, great, an actual conversation with a cat. Gus takes off and squeezes himself into a room with the door ajar, your bedroom. He knocks before entering, not expecting a response. The room is dark except for the light coming from your laptop, empty and half-full glasses taking up most of the space on your desk, chair full of unfolded clothes and a doughnut of blankets on the bed.
“Go away.” The doughnut speaks. His heart breaks at the sad, much softer than usual tone of your voice.
“Love.” The pet name slips from his lips, he notices but doesn’t attempt to correct himself. He walks closer until he’s sitting next to you. “Can I help you?” 
You shake your head no, or what’s visible of it. “Go away, I stink.” He chuckles.
“That’s fine, smell better than the lads in base.” It’s a pathetic attempt at humour, you still shake your head no.
“You don’t have to do anything.” You don’t sound sad or angry like he thought you might, it’s emotionless, almost like an automatic generated response.
“But I want to. Want tae tak’ care o ye” He wants to make everything better, wants to fix everything, wants you happy and energetic and smiling. It’s silly how much he cares for you after barely a month of knowing eachother, scary now that he’s admitting it out loud. He pulls down the blankets for a full view of your face, his hand goes to your hair, it’s tangled, he’s careful not to pull on it. “Am gunna run you a bath.” It’s not a question, you laugh slightly and he smiles, realising what he said. “Didny mean it like that, c’mon.” 
He helps you up from the bed and into the restroom. From your seat ion the toilet, you observe the way he turns on the tap and rummages through your cabinet, trying to find something to put in the water, you assume. “The orange bar in the back.” He halts, looks for a second and comes up with it, he leaves it on the sink while he turns off the water, you grab the bar and crumble a bit of it into the tub. He looks at you and gets up, you take it as your cue to undress and get in. Johnny comes back with a change of pyjamas and underwear and leaves again. You can hear him moving around and making noise, talking to the cat in occasion, while you clean yourself, when he comes back it’s to put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You don’t know why that’s the thing that makes you break and start crying. As soon as he notices, he’s on his knees next to you, softly caressing your cheeks and moving your damp hair away from your face.
“Whit’s wrong?” 
“I don’t want you to do this.” Is no reply to his question. “I don’t want you to have to do this.”
“M’eudail.” He starts. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not!” You look up at him” I’m so sad all the fucking time and I don’t want you to have to deal with that, it’s not fair to you, you know? I don’t want you to have to take care of me or put up with me.”
“But what if I want to? Wanna take care of you, wanna put up with you.” You shake your head no, looking back down.
“Johnny, I’m so much. I get so clingy and stupid.” 
“That’s fine by me.” There’s no deterring him. He lifts your head up by your chin to kiss your forehead, bright blue eyes staring at you. 
And you realise how ridiculous this is. You’re crying in the bathtub, your friend-situationship is on his knees next to you, again, crying in the bathtub. You let out a sigh and nod.
“Okay.” 
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Text
JOHNNY BOYYYYYYY
HAJSJRJDHSHSHAJSHHSHAHAHHA
sorry
I'm totally normal about this
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Breaking point (2/2)
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SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.
PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader
Ghost's version (1/2)
TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.
WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.
WORD COUNT: 4.3k
A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).
This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.
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After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.
The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.
Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 
Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.
But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.
Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.
You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.
You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.
On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.
He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.
You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.
But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.
This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.
For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.
He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.
“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”
His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.
“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”
“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”
You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.
You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.
“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”
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Crybaby.
Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.
He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.
 “Sorry I’m late,” you started.
“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”
You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.
You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.
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Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.
“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”
You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.
“Paperwork can wait.”
You blink in astonishment at him.
“No it cannot…?”
You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.
“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.
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You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow Soap was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him. 
From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified. 
He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily. 
Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it. 
“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”
You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.
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It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.
To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst. 
“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”
The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.
“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”
You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.
“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”
You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.
Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.
Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.
“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”
His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks. 
At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.
His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.
“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.
“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”
You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.
As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.
“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”
You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.
“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”
“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”
You chuckle at the idea.
“You'd never compel me to do anything.”
You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.
He smirks mischievously at that.
“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”
He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.
“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.
As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.
“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.” 
“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…” 
“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”
You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that… 
“Pretty please?” 
Oh no. Not that line.
He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?
“Are you… pouting?” 
“Depends. Is it working?”
You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”
Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.
“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”
“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.
You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.
“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.
“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context. 
You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.
He simply grins.
“Want a hug?”
You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart. 
No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you  can’t have.
He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.
Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.
“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”
He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.
“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”
His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.
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Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.
He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.
He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his;
that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.
Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.
And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.
“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.
“Soap just dropped them.”
“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”
Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.
“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.
You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.
“I know! Such a good boy for me.”
Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”
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Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.
You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.
“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”
Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.
You've been caught red-handed. 
Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality. 
You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?
He only pronounces one word.
“Run.”
So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.
Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.
“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”
By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.
“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.
Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.
“More fun for you than for me.”
He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.
“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”
The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.
He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.
“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”
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You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.
Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.
Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.
It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket withour you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.
Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.
“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.
“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”
He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.
He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.
You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.
Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.
You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor. 
“You're ridiculous.”
The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.
“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”
He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.
Almost.
But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter. 
Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it. 
But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.
You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.
“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”
You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.
He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.
As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cupped your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.
The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.
“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.
He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.
“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.
The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?
Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize a incriminating detail.
You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.
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Fiiiiii!!! I’ve missed you my dear!!
I hope you are doing great, I know you said you’ve been tired so I hope you’re getting lots of rest!💗💗
AND there’s no rush, take all the time you need!!
So much love to you!!
~Iz⭐️💜
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Izzy!!!!
I've missed you too 🩷🩷
I've been lazing around and here and there!
I was in Italia a week ago, so that was nice!
But yeah life is life and everything's a lil wonky but it'll right itself <33
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I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL TOO.
Love you <3
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«🩷BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people you adore! Absolutely no pressure but. It's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out <3🩷»
darling fi! smooching u and sending every warm gesture existing in your way! hope you're doing well ‹𝟹
JULYYYYYYYYYY 🥹🥹
I LOVE YOU.
Thank you so much, I'm honored 🥺🩷
I'm giving you all the smooches
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Ah yes, it's that time of day where my grandfather insists on reading me something from the Bible
Sigh
I countered it with the video of Jesus getting the wood cross stuck in the ceiling at a train station.
...
My grandma and I are crying laughing but he's NOT amused lol
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