#cbf soap

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

being besties with Soap (x)

[machveil]

ChildhoodBestFriend!Johnny that was the class troublemaker. you grew up in the same class with him throughout your childhood, but you weren’t initially friends. he’d always be cracking jokes and roughhousing with the other boys - loud and obnoxious, always wearing a big, toothy smile

CBF!Johnny never really had any reason to befriend you, you had pretty different friend groups. that said, whenever you two were paired up for school projects or gym class he’d be nice. he never acted too mean with you, always tried to keep the mood fun and light before parting ways

CBF!Johnny that covers for you one day - that’s when the lifelong friendship starts. you had accidentally broken something that belonged to your teacher. it was an accident, but your nerves had made you anxious over it. sure, you weren’t an angel in class, but this was something you’d really get in trouble for

CBF!Johnny saw you break it, and when he saw the fear in your eyes he tensed. he opened his mouth before he could think when the teacher asked who did it, “Was me, ma’am…”. he made eye contact with you, that same toothy smile you were used to seeing was replaced with a small, closed one, but it reached his eyes all the same

CBF!Johnny who sticks around with you after that. an arm wrapped around your shoulder as he cracks jokes and goofs off, but he treats you nicely. no roughhousing, well, nothing that would hurt you, no mean spirited teasing - he just wants to see you smile and laugh. sure, he got yelled at by the teacher, but that’s all in the past. now? now Johnny is all grown and loyal as a dog

[diejager]

It got deleted again 😂

Thoughts on dark childhood best friend!Johnny! Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, thigh fucking, somnophilia, tell me if I missed any.

He’s always been a bit touchy since you were kids, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing your cheek or even pressing himself against you whenever he could. It had always been innocent as kids, some kind of puppy-love that you were willing to give back, looking for him whenever you were out, eyes cued to look for the familiar blues that you came to love so much. You were neighbours, living right across from him in a quaint house, unbothered by many siblings that his mother kept popping out.

Your mother was sweet, letting him come by whenever he wanted to escape the hectic mess of his house, and you were the sweetest thing he’d ever known. You were so willing to act as his distraction, pulling him away from the chaos and into your safe haven : your room. It quickly became his room as much as it was yours, he spent so many nights sleeping in your room, sharing your bed with him, his arms wrapped around your hip and face nuzzled in your hair.

Once puberty rolled in, his voice deepening and facial hair growing, he started packing more weight and strength, his ego swelling with all the dopey eyes he received from girls his age and older, but they never strayed from you. He only had eyes for you, his best friend. They roved over your aging body, your breast swelling and hips becoming a dangerous temptation to him. He knew you looked at him as nothing but your best friend, the guy you grew up playing with and sharing happy moments, but he couldn’t stop the growing tent in his briefs when he jumped in bed with you at night.

He didn’t feel guilty about getting hard at the sight of you in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, it was natural, a reaction towards the opposite sex being so clearly comfortable with him. He became much more intimate with the placements of his hands, they would slip under your shirt, over the softness of your stomach and under your growing boobs. Despite your protest and sleepy grumble, he’d steal a touch of your pebbled nipples, round and hard before dipping down your waist and placing them a bit too high on your thighs to be considered platonic.

You complained but rarely retaliated because he reasoned with you that a lot of best friends were this touchy, grinding your ass when you were sleeping on your stomach, groping your softness while he panted and groaned, his cock leaking a wet patch on his pants. This was normal, he had rights to you that none other had because Johnny was your childhood best friend.

“One more, Bonnie,” he gasped, gazing at your lips, open and glistening with drool while you slept, unaware that he was rutting against your thigh, “A need one more, please.”

[shotmrmiller]

tbh, i need cbf!johnny to have like one arm broken and the other with a badly sprained wrist post-op, and one morning he asks for your help in masturbating.

"Please, hen. Ah've been like this fer 2 weeks already— only managin' to injure my wrist further. As a favor to yer best friend."

He pulls the puppy dog eyes he knows you can't resist, and with an awkward scratch of your head, you agree.

The smile he gives you in response is blinding.

Just a favor, right?

Wrong.

He makes it feel personal. Instead of a simple wank, it's sensual from the moment you help pull down his joggers to when you grab his (already) hardened cock to when his back bows as he comes, with your name spilling from his lips.

[glittergoblinzz]

Ghoap (well, Cbf!Soap mainly) asking Afab!Reader to be their surrogate (pt 1)

CW: Talks of surrogacy/pregnancy

-----------------------------------------

The last thing you expected when you came home after work one day was your friend Johnny sitting on your couch. You two have been friends since childhood and have been inseparable, even after he joined the military. You trusted the man with your life and would let him come over whenever he felt like it, going as far as giving him an extra key to your flat in Sunderland.

At first, you thought something bad must have happened since you could see he was clearly stressed about something. You drop your bag down and go over to the couch, sitting next to him

"Johnny, what are ya doing here? Is something wrong?"

He looks up at you with those crystal blue eyes, running a hand through his mohawk.

"Nah, there's nothing wrong per say, but...there is somethin' I need to ask ya, lass. Somethin' big...."

"What is it?"

Johnny pauses, unsure of how to ask this. After a moment, a voice from behind you two speaks up. A deep, gravely voice with a Mancunian accent. The unexpected voice causes you to jump slightly and turn around. It was Johnny's husband, Simon. Johnny had told you about him numerous times but you had never gotten to meet him in person before. His brown eyes bore down at you. It was hard to tell what exactly he was thinking but from the tone of his voice and how blunt he was, it was clear he wasn't exactly happy.

"He wants to know if you'd be our surrogate."

This makes you pause. They want you to be their surrogate? The MacTavishs? Really? You understand that you and Johnny are good friends and all, but you figured they would have gone through an agency or even adopted instead. You look back at Johnny, who was giving Simon a bit of a look himself.

"Johnny, is this true?"

Johnny turns back to you and his face softens quite a bit before he looks down at the ground.

"Aye...it's true, lass. I know this is a really, really big favour to ask, but...."

Johnny looks back up at you and gently grabs your hand.

"Could ya do this for us? We'll pay ya, take care of ya. Simon's done took a step back from the military for this next part of our lives so you'll always have at least one of us around at all times."

The look of desperation in Johnny's eyes makes your heart break for him a little bit. You knew he's always wanted to be a dad one day, have a family of his own. You fold your arms over your chest and lean back into the couch a bit, thinking it over....

"If I do this for you....how would we be doing this? Do you already have an egg from a donor? Are you just needing me to carry your child for you?"

Johnny sighs

"No. We'd be hoping ya wouldn't mind doing it....the ol' fashioned way...."

"The old fashioned way...? You mean... You'd sleep with me to knock me up?"

Before Johnny could say anything else, Simon interjects.

"No. Not him. I'd be doing it..."

You look up at Simon, clearly shocked. You barely knew this man and here he was saying that he'd be the one sleeping with you. You've only heard tidbits about him from Johnny. Sure, Johnny made him out to be a good man who liked to crack jokes and was a pretty laid back guy but from this first encounter, he doesn't seem like that at all. This made you extremely hesitant to help your friend out in starting his family....

Seeing the look of worry on your face, Johnny clears his throat causing you to look back at him again.

"Don't mind him, lass. He's just a bit....protective. Simon doesn't feel comfortable at the thought of me sleeping with someone else. I hope ya can understand that? And don't worry, like I said before...ya don't need to say yes now. Ya can give your answer later on, after you've spent a bit of time with Simon and have gotten to know him better. I wouldn't want ya sleeping with someone ya barely know."

You slowly nod. You could understand that. You and Johnny have known each other for much longer and it wasn't a secret he had a crush on you in the past....so Simon most likely felt the relationship would be threatened if Johnny was the one to sleep with you, worrying that would rekindle the old feelings he had for you from your younger years. Giving a slight sigh, you smile at Johnny and slightly give his hand a squeeze before letting it go.

"Yeah, okay. I'll give it a shot for you, Johnny. I'll try to get to know Simon better before I make my full decision..."

Johnny's face lights up and he immediately leans in to hug you tightly. He pulls away after a moment with a huge grin on his face.

"Thanks, lass. I promise Simon isn't normally like this. He just....has a hard time trusting people he doesn't know. He'll warm up to ya eventually."

This earns a scoff from Simon as he turns his head away from you two. Johnny laughs and gets up from the couch, moving behind it towards Simon.

"Lighten up, love. I know ya two pretty well....I think you'll get along in no time at all..."

He looks at Simon lovingly as he brushes his hand through Simon's short, black hair before giving him a kiss on his forehead. Simon frowns a bit, some of the scars on his face becoming more prominent; especially the ones on his upper lip and cheek.

"Really, Johnny? In front of her?"

Johnny only laughs in response, nodding.

"Aye, in front of her. Now come on, we should probably let her be now..."

He didn't need to tell Simon twice. The Brit immediately started heading towards the door without another word, only stopping in the doorway to wait for Johnny. Before leaving, Johnny turns to you again.

"Again, thank you. This really does mean a lot to me, and especially Simon....even if the brute doesn't want to admit it..."

Another groan is heard from Simon, who's barely...just barely....got a slight upward curl of his lips going on.

"...So I'll text ya soon with some dates and times so we can all get together and hang out a bit, so you can Simon can get to know each other better, yeah?"

You nod, smiling as you stand up and give Johnny another quick hug.

"Yeah. Sounds good. See you later, Johnny. Simon."

You give a slight nod to Simon, who hesitates before giving a slight nod back. Johnny turns and walks to Simon, taking Simon's hand in his before the couple leaves your house.

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: manipulative, obsessive behavior

Childhood best friend Soap who has one of those “if neither of us is married by this age, we’ll marry each other” deals with you, and has been actively sabotaging every relationship you’ve ever had since.

Not in a way you can see, of course. Just little things. Fabricating evidence of infidelity on their part— fake screenshots galore— suddenly having a crisis where he needs his best friend when you’re about to go on a date, convincing you that every little disagreement and incompatibility is a red flag. Acting like he’s just being a good friend— being the one you can trust to be in your corner.

“Aye, men are such dogs, hen. Dinnae ken how you can stand the lot of us… He didnae deserve you, bonnie, doin’ the things he did… Better you broke it off now, hen. Imagine what it’ve been like if you’d married the daft bastard?”

And just to drive it home— imagine he knows you’ve always wanted kids. And he drops subtle hints… about how your clock is ticking. And every time you’re out with him somewhere, he’ll point to every single pram and stroller and papoose and coo over the wee bairn, knowing it just kicks up your hormones. And he can use it to belittle your current partner as a long-term option!

“Can’t imagine that joker you’ve been seein’ will give you a pretty baby like that, hm, hen? Not to mention thinkin’ o’ him as a father… saw the man struggle to find his other shoe last time you brought ‘im over.”

[burner141]

One of my FAV tropes is cbf!Johnny but I also like it when reader just does not gaf abt Johnny so lemme combine the two

Ok so cbf!Johnny who you played with as a youth, along with the other neighborhood kids. He was a mischievous little rascal, and you two were probably closer to each other than the others in the group. He'd play minor pranks, scrape his knees on pavement, and get into fights with some older kids from time to time. Yeah, he was rough around the edges, but at the end of the day, he was your sweet Johnny. Johnny who picked wildflowers for you and treated it like a promise ring for when you two would inevitably get married. His words.

However, kids grow up. He decided to go to the military, and while you cared for him greatly, you kind of forgot about him after his grand sendoff. Sure, the first few weeks were hard. No more goofy grinning Johnny looking in at you from your window. First, he climbed trees, then he climbed through your window. Now he was probably climbing ropes in a boot camp or something. Call it object permanence or whatever, but once six months passed, then a year, so did the ache you felt when you remembered he was away.

You went on with life, and so did Johnny. Except Johnny was having a vastly different experience. Every day, he woke up and thought of you. Every night, he dreamt of coming back to you, to a field of wildflowers and the smell of his mother's cooking. At some point, he started writing down the good memories he had with you in a notebook. And then the letters...

Oh, the letters. He wrote and wrote, boundless words scribbled on crumbled paper. But he never sent them. How could he? In a way, they were his darkest secrets. Personal journal entries of every missed moment with you. He could have kissed you when he dropped you off after the school dance. He could have told you that your eyes shined whenever you talked about your interests. He could have confessed to you when you said you had a mild crush on that boy in your class.

He could have.

Once the regret subsided, Johnny began to feel a secondary emotion rise up. Determination. Maybe it was the training hardening him up and enboldening his spirit, or maybe it was the thought that you'd be taken from him in his time away. Whatever it was, his writing shifted. He started to write what he would do to you. Midnight confessions to you and himself that turned blue ink black. He would return home to you. He would put a ring around your finger. He would taste the sweetness between your legs.

He would.

So when he comes home after years of hardship and experiences that could break a man, all he has on his mind is you. You're what kept him alive. Your very existence breathed life into him, even when he thought his time was up.

Unfortunately, you'd moved on. What was once a close comrade became a blurry face in your mind. It's not like you kept up with him and sent letters back and forth (maybe it's better that way). Your relationship was estranged, and when he came in to hug (suffocate) you, you were holding your breath and waiting until it was over. His mother invited you over for dinner, going on about how close you two were. You were about to decline, feeling out of place, but Johnny had responded joyously, like there wasn't a better idea in the world. Huh, maybe everybody had an exaggerated idea of what your relationship was.

Johnny's now huge arm wrapped around your shoulder as he sat next to you. He should have been paying attention to his mother's lovely conversation, but it felt like his eyes were burning holes into you. Talk about awkward. I mean, the guy had been away for years, and now you were expected to just chat him up like you were 8-years-old again?

After a mentally straining dinner, when his mom was cleaning up in the kitchen and your parents were keeping her company, Johnny redirected you to the living room to watch a movie.

"Gotta catch up on what I've been missing out." He said as he led you to the couch you had jumped on as a kid. His eyes lingered on you a bit too long, but maybe he was just getting used to civilian life. Didn't know the correct social cues and whatnot. Don't worry. He'd learn to seem normal very quickly. Can't have you getting scared and running off.

As the movie progressed, you noticed Johnny's legs spreading out more, making you and the couch feel miniscule. His thigh touched yours, and so did his arm, and with how close he kept inching, his breath was about to touch you. Too much. He was just too much.

You told him you had some things to do at home and ran off. He watched you go from the doorway, not bothering to chase after you, no matter how much he wanted to. And he wanted to. It was unfortunate. The red string that connected you two had thinned out.

Good thing Johnny learned how to tie knots in the military. And trust, he's ready to tie the knot.

[thetravelingtyper]

a moment (Simon Ghost Riley x 141 Sgt! Reader) one shot

A short moment with your commanding officer, see also Soap MacTavish has a big mouth...

Warnings! Stitches but nothing graphic! Fluff!

Just a little one-shot to Cigarette Daydream by Cage the Elephant to get me back into writing! Check out my other series!

Masterlist!

What did you think would happen?

The mist of the cold street engulfs you through your civvies as the rowdyness of the bar ends at the threshold. The silence outside crept like some ancient spirit. You can hear the laughter of other sergeants at your retreat.  Some little lovesick puppy you were.

Did you stand there all alone?

Oh, I cannot explain what's going down

I can see you standing next to me

In and out somewhere else right now

There is the roll of a spark wheel and a whisper of a spark and you don't turn as you move to the edge of the river, guardrail weathered and paint chipped red under your nails.

“Leave me alone Johnny,” unshed tears are tightening your throat as you bite as much as you can, hands gripping the rail.

There is only silence and the quiet inhale of smoke.

You sigh, look away

I can see it clear as day

Close your eyes, so afraid

Hide behind that baby face

Do-do-do, do-do-do

At his silence you pull a fist and spin, aiming for his face only for a pale hand to catch your fist at his chest. 

Your eyes widen in shock as your lieutenant looks down at you with dark eyes.

You can drive all night

Looking for the answers in the pouring rain

You wanna find peace of mind

Looking for the answer

“Sir I-”

“Shouldn’t have crept up on you.”

A hot flush engulfs your face in shame and before you turn you head away to hide the tears rolling down your cheeks. 

Funny how it seems like yesterday

As I recall you were looking out of place

Gathered up your things and slipped away

No time at all, I followed you into the hall

You look off into the lit distance, dazzling lights like stars reflected on your face as his free hand hangs, cigarette smoldering.

You tug your hand, fed up with him, your feelings, Johnny for being a dick. 

“Come on lassie! Let me see you!”

You knew a drunk Johnny was trouble but this was different as he pulled you to dance.

He was your best friend but sometimes a right-ass.

“You know I was talking to Gaz about your little proble-”

Your head shoots to him,

“You didn't tell him did you?!?”

Johnny gives a cheeky smile, 

“Not like it isn't obvious. Not like there is ever a chance of you and the Ghost.”

The words you know are a drunken mutter but you feel the hand around your heart tighten. You push out of his arms as he realizes what he’s said in a stupor,

“Wait lass I didn’t mean-”

“You've said enough MacTavish and fuck you too.”

Cigarette daydream

You were only 17

So sweet with a mean streak

Nearly brought me to my knees

Do-do-do, do-do-do

You had spent many long missions with Ghost in your service with the 141. Cold nights curled together with Johnny snoring as Ghost worked his side arms, cleaning knives and his pistol. As you slip out of the cot his voice trails out like gravel.

“You should be asleep Sergeant.”

You give him a caught smile before sighing,

“I can’t with him like this.”

You lift an arm as Johnny clings to it like a cub. Ghost’s eyes finally lift from his work, turning to the contact with a smolder you don’t catch.

“Take my cot then and get to sleep.”

You reply with an aye sir and slip silently by, brushing past the large man heart clutching when you catch his scarred hands.

You can drive all night

Looking for the answers in the pouring rain

You wanna find peace of mind

Looking for the answer

If we can find a reason, a reason to change

Looking for the answer

If you can find a reason, a reason to stay

Standing in the pouring rain

You sat alone in medical, cursing silently to yourself for a shitty mission. You were caught lacking on your own when you caught a slash along your side. As evac came you covered the wound and carried on despite the pain, Johnny giving you a knowing side-eye but hushing up as Price and Gaz passed into the front of the helo for directions. In the quiet moment, Johnny's hand comes to your side and you hiss.

“I knew it! You got hit! Ye are paler than a lamb! We need to get that see too now.”

Price calls from the back as a heavy body pulls itself into the chopper as it lifts off.

You elbow Johnny as Ghost looks over you two before passing, umber eyes tracing your face as you and Johnny quietly bicker.

“I'll stitch it myself Johnny now shut up!”

Back on the table, you tie a shaky stitch when there is a flick of the light, you blink before hissing in pain at the movement.

“Could get in trouble for this Sergeant.” 

You jump and turn your head to see Ghost in the doorway, leaning on one arm as he examines you. His eyes are heavy in the solitary room.

You fumble with the needle and prick your finger in surprise, pulling on the stitching with a hiss. 

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle. Not worth stopping the mission for.”

Ghost watches you a lot closer,

“That what Johnny said?”

You blink at that, you shake your head with a scoff,

“He's just a mother hen. Always has been since my parents died.”

Ghost inhales, eyes dropping to your working hands. He rolls his shoulder back before entering the room and humming low.

“You two are close.”

The pain is momentarily forgotten as your commanding officer washes his hands and digs in a drawer, wide back turned. Flashes of the scot fill your mind as you snort.

“You could say that he’s been my shadow since birth, been a right pain too, why do you say, looking to adopt?”

That gets a chuckle from Ghost as he turns back to you, there is a crinkle in his eye and you can tell he is grinning. He is wearing a pair of gloves, and in the next second, he is right in your space, stepping between your legs to take the needle from you. You gulp at his sudden closeness, your heartbeat stuttering.

His eyes look into yours and you feel a weight settle in the room,

“Wouldn’t think you’d appreciate that Sergeant.”

He watches your face as he begins to stitch and your eyes widen at the connotation.

“That's a fucking joke, Jesus L.t. I’d sell him for a biscuit. We aren't like that, just friends.”

You had heard the rumors, something resolute settles in Ghost’s gaze as he finishes stitching you up. His hands linger a moment, helping you to stand as he takes a step back.

“Call me Simon, Sergeant.”

You look up at him curiously but nod.

“right.”

Do-do, do, do, do

Do-do, do, do, do

Do-do, do, do, do

Do-do, do, do, do

You can drive all night

Looking for the answers in the pouring rain

You wanna find peace of mind

Looking for the answer

If we can find a reason, a reason to change

But Simon does not release your hand and you look up at him, frustration mounting while he casually extinguishes his cigarette. Umber eyes then turn to look down at you. You huff and pull your hand again gently,

“Can you please let go, Simon, I want to be alone right now.”

He seems to consider it for a moment before his fingers wrap further around yours, 

“I don't think so, Dove.”

You look up at him blinking, not understanding, you are about to force your hand from his when he takes a step forward and pins you against the guardrail, his other arm caging you in. You lean back naturally but his free arm works to wrap around you guardingly.

“Simon?”

Your heart is pounding and there is a rush of blood in your ears when his eyes soften, he hums but gives no other reply other than working your hand open to entwine your fingers.

“What?”

Simon chuckles, his head dipping towards your ear.

“You doubt yourself and MacTavish has a big mouth.”

A nervous giggle comes out at that but you step forward into his embrace.

“I guess he does.”

Looking for the answer

If you can find a reason, a reason to stay

Standing in the pouring rain

AN! I am not dead!!! I just needed a break as life and full-time kicked my butt. On the same page and our shattered heart are still important to me and I hope to continue them both really soon!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Rediscovered | CBF! 09’ Ghost x/& Reader

Day 26: Reconnecting w/ 09’ Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary: After meeting in elementary school, you and Simon hit it off, becoming best friends before miscommunications leads you two to lose contact for years, before meeting again at an airport.

Word Count: ~ 1.9k

Warnings: allusions to an abusive dad (simon’s), period blood, partial nudity?? (not sexual at all), mentions of family death

A/N: ok I actually really like this one, it can be read as either platonic or romantic, and I might expand on it later when I’m not so flooded (I have 9000 wips😭), hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It had all started one morning, in an old public school. The first day of 2nd grade.

You’d sat down near the middle, not wanting the attention of being in the front or back, preferring to be farthest from the teacher. He’d sat down in the back, on the desk behind you.

The teacher, an older woman with frizzy, short hair and thick bangs, had passed out pieces of paper with little plastic bowls of macaroni and instructed each of you to take out your glue bottle and stick the macaroni pieces down to make the shape of an apple. He hadn’t brought anything to class, mumbling something about ‘forgetting’ his backpack before thanking you when you decided to share.

You remembered seeing the splotchy bruises on his skin, on his too-skinny knees, and wondering where they were from. His blonde, greasy hair, almost looked brown. He had blonde eyelashes, that was what you remembered the most.

You’d knocked your bowl of macaroni off your desk, and everyone had turned their heads to you, the chatting of other children stopping as some giggled. He watched as your ears turned red from embarrassment, and you got up, kneeling on the floor to pick up each and every piece, one by one. He’d gotten up too, deciding that he would make whatever was between you two even by helping.

“I’m (Y/N),”

You’d murmured, offering a little strained, nervous smile. He’d glanced up at you, and nodded, swallowing as his Adam’s Apple bobbed.

“Simon.”

He whispered back. You had smiled a bit at that, and he’d assumed you were just mentally laughing at him, until you’d whispered something to him about having an old dog named Simon, one of those crusty white mutts that would bark at everything, could barely see, and would hump everyone’s legs.

He’d snorted at that.

The other kids had moved their focus back onto their crafts by then, and you’d written your address on the back of an index card, passing it to him, whispering for him to come visit on Saturday afternoon, that he could play games with you and your neighborhood friends.

He’d come and gotten to know all of them. Some of the only childhood friends he’d had, considering the people who lived in his neighborhood didn’t have any kids, or not good ones to hang around with unless you were looking to get addicted to something, anyway.

He’d finally met your parents, being welcomed in, your mother taking some of his torn jeans and pants to stitch up for him, giving him food to take home, your father helping with homework after school, teaching him how to fix things, helping teach him woodwork and how a man should act, caring for his family, how to be respectful to women. He started getting invited to Thanksgiving, essentially staying at your house every day after school to escape his actual dad waiting at home.

He’d been there when you’d first gotten your period, waking up to your hushed panicked whispers to yourself, walking over only to cover his eyes as he tried to erase the sight of your pants and underwear, both stained with blood, pulled down. You held a tampon in one hand and squealed as you saw him.

“Hey, it’s just me—“

“Oh god, Simon, I don’t know what to do—my mom only uses tampons and I don’t want that inside of me-!”

“Just..uh…shove toilet paper in your underwear.”

“No! I need pads, shit-shit-shit, we don’t have any…”

He’d seen the tears welling in your eyes as he peeked out from his hands, keeping his eyes strictly on your face. He knew what he had to do, even as his cheeks turned bright red.

“I could, I dunno, go buy some? There’s that little shop like five minutes away?”

“Oh, thank god, there’s twenty bucks under my plant on my dresser, you can use that. Thank you, Si.”

He’d run to the little shop, bought the pads using the twenty bucks, despite the weird looks the cashier and men in the store had given him, and run straight back, handing you the pad and reading the instructions from the back of the box to try and help you figure it out together with him.

He’d been there for your first boyfriend, some guy with no real personality outside of being tall and good at basketball, but you’d both broken up abruptly because he’d simply gotten bored of you. He’d comforted you then, and you’d comforted him after his first girlfriend cheated on him.

High school had come. He survived the first two years only because you helped him through it, basically tutoring him through all of Geometry and the advanced classes he somehow tested into, and he’d taken you to all the fast food restaurants you’d craved in the middle of the night in exchange. He dropped out Junior year, and because of being held back for ‘disruptive behavior’ in his elementary school, he was already 18.

He didn’t know how to drop the bombshell that he was going to the military, having already applied, and been accepted, he was expected to report in only a day.

So he wrote a letter, saying everything about how he would miss you, and that he’d bring you home all sorts of trinkets, and that you’d both be best friends forever, even when he went into the military and escaped his father for good. He’d thanked you for everything, saying he’d see you again soon, and he’d visit again as soon as possible.

Except that, between all the missions, a few injuries that hospitalized him, and then the training he had to undergo to be put back in his Task Force, and everything he witnessed, it was a couple of years until he finally went back.

But when he did go back, getting off of the flight, speeding the entire way to your house, hopping out, he knocked on the door, newly painted with the yard trimmed nearly, a few different decorations and flowers in place now, it was a stranger who opened the door. A stranger said that he didn’t know who Simon was looking for and that he’d owned this house for a good four years now.

Simon had assumed you’d moved on. Gone on for better things than him. Little did he know, his father had found the letter in the mailbox, mailed to go to your house, since Simon knew you might find it too soon if he put it right in your mailbox, and his father had opened it, and promptly thrown it in their fireplace, watching it burn to ash.

You didn’t know where your best friend had gone. He’d just…disappeared with no word, and after all of his family tragically died a year or two after, you’d gone to the funerals, and not seen a trace of him. Here you were now, standing and waiting for your flight back home from visiting some family that lived far away, messy bun holding your greasy hair up, eye bags prevalent as you hadn’t cared to put on makeup, wearing the most atrocious but comfortable outfit possible, and you saw it.

A pair of blue eyes that looked all too familiar.

He was with three other men, one looking old enough to be your father, with a gruff beard and weathered demeanor, another with a Mohawk, wearing a small grin as he nodded at something, the other silent and listening with a smile, and him.

He was wearing a cloth mask, the sort that had been mandated throughout countries not too long ago. It had a skull pattern, one you recognized from the countless nights his older brother, Tommy, had worn a skull mask and scared the wits out of both you and Simon. You still remembered his shrilly squeals of terror as he booked it, running for the hills.

“Simon?”

His head snapped in your direction so fast you thought he might have a whiplash injury. They all paused, a bit of surprise, and a hint of suspicion and mistrust in their expressions as they watched him yank his mask off, face one of shock, before he ran over to you.

You laughed in pure sleep-deprived shock, embracing him in a hug as he gave you a fat kiss on the cheek, he sighed.

“Thought I’d never see you again. By the time I went back, you were already gone. Guess you read the letter, huh?”

He felt a bit of embarrassment bubbling up at the memory of his teenage self crying while writing that letter, all of his angsty little thoughts spilling out into what he thought might be a final goodbye.

“What letter?”

You both looked up at each other confused, and it was his turn to laugh in disbelief.

“I, uh, made a letter. Tellin’ you I was going off to the military, that I’d be back. I thought I mailed it to you, must’ve forgotten through the nerves.”

The other men finally began approaching. They’d never seen their Ghost look so nervous before, going back to stuttering, rubbing the back of his neck, grinning nervously while looking at the floor.

“Ghost? Who’s this?”

The gruff man asked. You raised a brow.

“Ghost? Seriously?”

Simon huffed elbowing you in the side, watching you wince slightly. He forgot how strong he was, sometimes. Maybe it was because he was always surrounded by people who were just as large as he was, that he wasn’t used to being around civilians anymore.

“Ah, this is Captain MacTavish and Captain Price—“

“Christ’s sake, we’re off base, just tell the lass our names.”

He saw the way your grin widened at his Captain’s Scottish accent, meeting his gaze with a look of wonder.

“Right, John Price, John MacTavish, and that’s Gary.”

“What’s Gary’s special name?”

You watched as Simon’s lips twitched up a moment, before responding.

“Roach.”

You busted out laughing, and soon enough the older men were joining in too, while poor Gary just cringed and turned redder by the second.

“Gonna introduce me, Si?”

You finally asked once the laughing fit was over, and he nodded, throat suddenly drying up as he realized he didn’t know a proper title for you. Friend? Were you two even more than acquaintances after all these years? His brain seemed to decide for him, as he spoke.

“This is my best friend, (Y/N).”

The men raised brows at that, but Price only chuckled, jerking his head to the airport’s hallway.

“This has been a lovely reunion, but we need to find a place to sleep, best friend or not.”

He’d said, giving a smile that felt a bit passive-aggressive to Simon, considering how he was tired, hungry, and just wanted to rent a hotel room for the night already, and the words had tumbled out of your mouth before you’d thought it through.

“You could just stay with me. We’ve got plenty of catching up to do, anyway.”

You’d said, giving a pointed glance at Simon, who’d smirked ever so slightly.

“How about it, lads?”

MacTavish had asked, and after a collective nod from everyone, he sealed your fate with a simple sentence.

“Lead the way, then.”

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Thoughts on soap and reader as teenagers together??? (I just read that fic about teenage Simon x reader 😼🔥)

I'm so glad you asked me this, because I do have thots!

Hope it doesn't offend that it's just random disjointed headcanons. I do have the posts below the separator as inspo!

Teen!Soap x Teen!Reader: (mid-late 2000s edition)

cw: same as home (underage drinking/smoking/drug use, underage criminal activity, teen romance, etc.)

Teen!Soap who was raised lower-middle class with a gaggle of older sisters, three in total.

Teen!Soap who's father worked in a factory and who's mom was a carer at a nursing/care home.

Teen!Soap who was was always a bit scrappy and didn't really enjoy people in authority positions, teachers included... (and who even talked back to his football coach at times).

Teen!Soap who is like a vibrant lure, attracting people to him with his funny jokes and bright smile and laugh, who consistently keeps a growing group of friends, and is an extrovert through and through.

Teen!Soap who met you at school in Year 7 and took a liking to you because you were just as ballsy, stubborn, bold and playful as him... and so absorbed you into his group of friends.

Teen!Soap who got lucky enough to join little league football when he was 8, and became a goalie very quickly because he was fast and bulky enough to defend the goal.

Teen!Soap who, like most young boys who play football in Scotland, became fairly popular in school, because he was handsome and athletic, and often had girls come watch his games.

Teen!Soap who couldn't give a single fuck about the girls flirting with him or coming to watch his games because, every time, without fail, he'd run off the field to come give you a high-five and chat with only you.

Teen!Soap who'd only turn up home from school after the sky was dark, because him and his friends (you included) were hanging out in a random field/park/woods or in someone's garage.

Teen!Soap who started smoking at 11, drinking at 13.

Teen!Soap who discovered rock and, especially, pop punk music on youtube as a pre-teen.

Teen!Soap who became the quintessential late 00s emo-punk teen: fishnet fingerless gloves, baggy tees, skinny tees, studded belts, combat boots that he ripped once and fixed with duct-tape (that he called his 'arse kickers'), too much hair gel and hair spray, chokers, bracelets, studded everything, cargo pants, boxers showing, flannel shirts...

Teen!Soap who had his first handy given to him an older girl at a "party" in someone's garage.

Teen!Soap who'd regularly taunt the police with curses, flipping them the bird and even mild vandalism.

Teen!Soap who once stopped the cops from harassing his friends due to being disorderly by putting a brick/cobblestone through the windshield of the police cruiser and then took you by the hand and took off running.

Teen!Soap who backed you onto a wall in a back alley after you escaped the cops and locked eyes with you, and, amidst the adrenaline, pressed his lips to yours :)

also used these three posts of mine as inspo:

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

being besties with Soap (x)

[machveil]

situationship with ChildhoodBestFriend!Johnny. you bring each other home for holidays and events, hear family members whisper about ‘will they, won’t they’, let each other get a little handsy if the moods right. nothings official, but CBF!Johnny is dead-set on proposing to you someday

CBF!Johnny who’s heartbroken when you tell him you met a guy, swallows down his disappointment to ask you about the man. “Oh, you’d love him, Johnny— he’s so sweet. He accidentally took my order at the coffee shop, he has such a good laugh! He paid for my new drink and everything.”, you told Johnny he had a good laugh too. he’s fighting back the urge to pummel this stranger, some guy who sounds so nice it has to be fake

CBF!Johnny whose mind goes blank when you smile, “Yeah, Kyle is really funny, we’re going on a date after his next deployment— speaking of which, when are you leaving for yours again?”

[diejager]

Dark!childhood best friend Johnny is going to eat away at my mind for the next couple days, thanks =)

Imagine him guilt tripping you into sex, "At least a blowjob Bonnie, please? Ah been yer best friend for forever." Giving you those big blue puppy dog eyes as he ruts against you.

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, blowjob, choking, throatpie, manipulation/coercion, guilt tripping, dacryphilia, tell me if I missed any.

”I don’t know, Johnny,” you bit your lower lip, staring at him with a nervous gleam and answered his hesitantly. You truly wanted to help Johnny, but you didn’t think it appropriate to blow your best friend, especially after your recent break up.

“One, Bonnie, just one.”

Johnny was always insistent, used to getting what he wanted from you as children and teens, your younger and naive mind listening to everything he said. Perhaps he was used to it, but you’ve changed as much as he did, growing up happy but tired with work and life. You’d been hit on, men coming up to you for a quick fuck or to take advantage of you, and how fortunate was it that Johnny was your best friend. That meant you knew a few tricks you’ve heard from prior experience and your friends, but this was Johnny, your childhood best friend who stuck by your side through thick and thin.

“Johnny…” you stammer when he pressed on, cornering you against the couch in your shared flat, his cock - a big and hard and hot mass - rutting your thigh, his hips rucking up your loose shorts, “I’m not sure if-“

He pouted. Johnny pouted, lips pulled down and his pretty, blue eyes gleaming while he begged you to serve him once, he even threw you his puppy eyes. He pressed himself closer to you, hands finding your hips and pulling you into him, his still growing bulge grinding against your burning core, tingling with the fresh flames of pleasure. He groaned, nuzzling your shoulder and panting loudly, his hot breath hitting your neck in loud puffs and grunts.

“Just one, please? Ah been yer best friend fer so long, dinnea ah deserve one, Bonnie?” You couldn’t tell him no when he looked at you with such a pleading expression, sounding so exhausted and restless.

The moment you gave him a tentative nod, Johnny had you kneeling between his legs, excitedly reaching under his pants to pull out his cock. It hung between his legs, heavy with girth and slightly longer than your ex, balls thick with unspent cum and his trimmed hair musky. You’ve seen his naked body before - from the many shared showers and many moments of comfort - but you never really stared at the length and girth of him. Your flustered cheeks made him coo, running his thumb under your eye and letting you take your time, hands wrapping around the base and wetting your dry lips.

You kissed his engorged tip, tongue swirling around it before wrapping your lips around the head, sucking until your cheeks hollowed and bobbing your head lightly. He tasted salty, the dripping pre rolling down your throat each time you took him deeper, slow and careful because of his size. He was thicker than what you were used to, the girth of his cock hard and covered in crossing veins, bulging and throbbing with a pulse; and he was longer than what you’ve had, the head hitting so deeply, making your throat choke around his cock with every drag over your tongue to the back of your mout.

You jerked the rest of his cock, the part that you couldn’t take, with your hands, fingers dragging the skin across his length and traveling down to cup his balls, fondling with his heavy balls. He swore loudly, unabashed and shamelessly moaning out your name, his fingers running through your hair and tightening and pulling when he hit the back of your throat, his cock jumping when you audibly gagged. His whole body shuddered when he caught the first tears under your fluttering lashes, some stray tears rolled down your cheek, gleaming under the living-room light. 

“‘M close, Bonnie,” he rasped, softly running his fingers through your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper and deeper —to let him fill your stomach with him. 

Invigorated by his words, you bobbed your head faster, choking down your retching and tears, feeling him twitch on your tongue and his pre thickening. He mumbled out a few incoherent words, praises and compliments, telling you how well you were doing and how his best friend had such a good mouth. He let slip out that he would’ve asked for this favour a while back if he knew your mouth was so hot and tight. 

“Moan fer me, let me feel ya.”

You moaned and mewl, letting the sound shake through your throat and mouth vibrating his whole cock, head sinking down on him and slick hands still pumping what you couldn’t fit, coaxing him to come down your throat. When he came, he thrust his hips up, forcing him much deeper as tangy cum spurted from his tip, painting your mouth and throat in thick, white seed. His body shuddered, head thrown back, back arched and limbs tense, holding you still while you swallowed down his cum. 

You gasped and panted when he pulled you off, eyes lidded and lips swollen from the stretch of his shaft. He whispered out praises, pulling you to his lap and peppered your face with doting kisses. He kissed your tears away, and he kissed your lips, his tongue pushing past your teeth and tasting himself in your mouth. Smiling softly at your fiery blush, he pressed his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes with a cheeky expression that made you frown.

“Let me return the favour?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @rainbowsabre

[shotmrmiller]

someone just posted something that has me ripping my hair out of my scalp because it's so cbf!johnny

johnny will text you random stuff to have you put your guard down only to send you

I love it when you start doing ⭕️💢⭕️💢 around my cock as I stuff you full

while you're out in public. You can't flip the phone over fast enough, and your co-worker will have seen the message, playfully teasing, "Just your best friend, huh?"

Once you get back home, his limpid blue eyes will glow in between his dark lashes as he begs for forgiveness and now your head is pressed into the carpet, fibers chafing the delicate skin of your cheek as he viciously snaps his hips against yours, cock filling you to the very brim over and over again.

He's already fucked you through 3 orgasms, and when his pace starts to get sloppy, his hips stuttering, that's when you do the thing he teased you with earlier.

You clamp your walls down on him rhythmically, like your pussy has a heartbeat of its own, and the groan that claws it's way out of his throat is so loud, so obscene, that it sends you careening towards one last climax.

Johnny pumps the last of his cum into your swollen channel, making sure you get every last drop of it before he pulls out his softening length.

"Ah told ye ah love when ye do that."

it needed to be done, and if i went to sleep i'd forget it so forgive any mistakes i'm on my phone.

[gazspookiebear]

Okay... so if I were to make a character x character fic that eventually turns poly...

[thetravelingtyper]

Letters From Nowhere - 1 (CBF! Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader)

Finally arriving home after almost a decade, you ride with your friend's mom to home. There you find some unexpected company...

Warnings: Some Feels, Fluff, Fluff, Fluff

Prologue, Part 2, Masterlist

Luster - gentle sheen or soft glow, especially that of a partly reflective surface.

The old airport still made you smile, even after all these years. You hadn’t stepped foot on the swirled tile in almost a decade. Your eyes focused through the crowds moving back and forth as you made it to your exit and entered the lobby. There next to a glass vase holding tulips was Elizabeth.

The years had been kind but the loss of her only child so early in their life aged her, the flow of time sat heavy on her forehead. Lines trace her green eyes, lashes meticulously curled, and eyeshadow light. The pink on her lips made you smile and she looked up from her phone. Her eyes scanned the few bystanders until they found you. There was a new light in her eyes then, and her following smile seemed to reach her eyes for the first time in ages. 

She called your name and beckoned you over, you followed, clutching the strap of your backpack and rolling your suitcase behind you. She gave you little time to prepare before engulfing you in a floral-scented hug. The cotton of her shirt was soft and you found yourself sinking into the warm embrace of your second mother.

You both just held each other before she parted and looked into your eyes.

“It's good to see you dear.”

Your voice came out tight, but some sense of relief lingered on the sidelines,

“Hello, Eliza.”

-

The following car ride along the coast was special. You talked about your career, the library, the children, and the program’s success as you settled into the leather of her old van. 

“You seem to have been busier since we last called. Any words from your parents?”

You look down at your lap then, 

“No, they left me a key for the house though.”

Eliza sighed,

“Just the same then. You are more than welcome to stay in your old guest room as always. I do have some company.”

She looks at you then, a curious look in her eye.

“What?”

“You haven't met a special someone have you?”

The question comes out of nowhere and you sputter, eyes flying up to hers.

“I haven't had the time.” 

More like there was never the right person, your inner voice chimes.

“Well, I think you should know John is staying with me.” 

Your heart stops, and you look out the window for a moment. Elizabeth observes you.

“I thought he was still serving?”

Her free hand moves to your knee.

“There was an incident, he is home now.”

You frown, turning back to her and she is quick to reassure you.

“He is fine dear, his old commanding officer is staying. He’s recovered a lot,”

She squeezes your knee,

“He’s never stopped asking about you. I didn’t tell him you were coming home, I wanted you to figure out what you wanted first.”

You set your hand on hers and squeeze.

“I am happy you are home.”

With her final murmur, she turns back to the road as the sea beacons your mind. 

Are you ready to face him again after all these years?

-

Elizabeth pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. The two-story cottage was shaded by an old maple and ivy scaling the brick siding. The front porch, once weathered, seemed new. Elizabeth notices your eyes settle on the wood and she chuckles.

“That was courtesy of Johnny and his friend. Your parents left the house in my care and the boys took it upon themselves to fix it a while ago.”

The statement makes you curious.

“I didn't tell them till just this week I was coming home through?”

She just gives you a secret smile. 

“Once he got home, he went to your parents first before they left on their trip. They were elated to see him after so long and he brought up keeping an eye on the house-”

In case you ever came home, was left unsaid. 

As you get out you turn your head across the street and are surprised to see a truck parked in Elizabeth’s driveway, as she gets out she follows your eyes. 

“That’s Simon's. Speaking of which-”

You notice then with surprise there is someone there, a man, unloading lumber from the back of the truck. He is engrossed in his work until he looks up and meets your eyes. He pauses, brown eyes focusing intently on you, a spark of recognition in them because he sets the wood down and brushes his hands off.

Elizabeth steps forward and gives a wave, expecting a nod in reply, she seems surprised when the man instead crosses the street to approach her. He walks with a long stride, holding himself well as he makes the hike up the hill of the driveway seem easy. He comes to a stop in front of Elizabeth, his frame dwarfing hers. You shift on your feet as he looks down at her.

“You didn’t leave a note.”

His accent is strong and his voice low seeping out from behind a black surgical mask. Elizabeth smiles at the man before patting his arm in a motherly fashion.

“This was supposed to be a secret trip, is John still out Simon?”

The man takes the moment to look at you, eyes evaluating, but you don't sense any hostility, more curiosity than anything else. His eyes then return to hers with a nod.

“Good, we may be having another guest soon.”

She then gestures to you and Simon just looks at you, he then notices your backpack at your feet.

“Need some help, Dove?’

His offer seems to surprise Elizabeth as her eyes widen, you can only offer a quiet “sure.”

Simon moves then, coming around to your side of the car and coming to stand in front of you. He was easily 6’ 4”, with wide shoulders, now that you could see him closer, lines of scars tracing his exposed skin. He wore a short-sleeved shirt with jeans and work boots, a large sleeve tattoo inking his arm. On the other was a curious symbol, some type of logo containing a skull and the acronym S.A.S. one which you recognized.

He looks down at your backpack and you nod, only then does he easily reach down and shoulder it. You open the door to reach for your suitcase but a toned arm reaches past you and pulls it out effortlessly. You look up to him to find him close to you, and as he pulls back to get the suitcase his eyes crinkle a little at the corners and you wonder if he smiled.

He then gestures to you and you nod a bit taken aback by the new acquaintance. Approaching the door you reach behind the devil's ivy to pull a brass key out. You make quick work of the locks and push the door open followed first by Simon then Elizabeth.

-

The smell of caramel and books greets you and you smile subconsciously, softening as you step into the warm embrace of home. You had grown fond of the smell of library books, and the small chatter of patrons and their children. Students who would work diligently, mindful of others as friends reconnect with each other. But nothing like that could compare to finally being home. There is a smell that brings you from your mind and you turn to look towards the kitchen, choosing to follow the smell despite the question of “What is it dear” from Elizabeth.

Inside you find freshly made cookies and something that pulls on your heart. There is a fresh bundle of hand-dried lavender next to a photo of you and Johnny. Elizabeth enters the kitchen and gasps at it.

“Who did this?” She looks around and your eyes catch a sketched portrait of your best friend, captured beautifully in a hand you could only know.

“Aye, I did.” 

A deep voice comes from the top of the stairs and you about jump as you hear soft steps before Johnny comes into view at the base of the stairs. He wears a paint-stained shirt and sweats. Your heart hammers in your chest as his eyes first regard Elizabeth before sweeping to Simon in a nod, and then finally the vastness of the ocean settles on you.

He is older, grown into his strength, but the bandages on his arm and peaking out from under his hair tell another story. You expect to see hatred in his eyes, a cold omission or some heated glare but his eyes only shine. You feel the world pause as he looks into your eyes, moving only a step closer. He exhales with a hum when he sees the tears prick your eyes, looking back to the portrait of your late friend then back to him.

You move forward without a thought and he quickly gathers you into strong arms, a stubbled chin resting on your head as a hum reverberates through his chest. You exhale while a long-forgotten weight melts from your heart. You mumble into his chest. He chuckles and pulls back to look at you, a boyish grin on his face.

“What was that Hen?”

“I’m sorry. I-”

He hushes you, dipping down to press his cheek to your forehead and tucking you into his neck.

“Not a word. You are here now, it doesn't matter anymore.”

His hands trace up and down your back in a comforting motion as yours grasp at his shoulders to hold him closer to you. There is the faint smell of shampoo in his hair and a spot of paint that makes you smile. You pull against him and he pulls back as you look up at him, the soft smile on your face pulling at his heart. His arms circle down to your lower back and he seems reluctant to let go.

You raise a brow at him as Elizabeth gives a huff of a laugh, he just smiles sheepishly but a more serious glint shines in his eyes. 

“Now son, how did you know we were coming?” Elizabeth asks pointedly, a fond smile now lighting up her lips. 

Seeing you two together somehow had (totally) not been one of her intentions, but seeing Johnny calm and settled made the mother in her happy.

Johnny looks up from you and to Elizabeth.

“Caught you writing when you thought I was asleep.”

She hums, eyes looking then to Simon who has since set your stuff down and was standing in the entryway of the kitchen like a sentinel. 

“You are not off the hook, mister. I know you had a part in this.”

The lieutenant just shrugs, eyes looking at her then to you.

“Just doin’ what I was told,” is his honest reply and Johnny grins.

“You two better not be giving her trouble.” You shift in Johnny's arms and he releases you, letting you shift to his side. All the while his hand traces down to the small of your back, remaining a source of silent reassurance from him in your mind.

“Us? Trouble? How about hearing that L.T.?” 

For the first time you hear Simon chuckle, he takes your stuff in hand and approaches.

“Wouldn’t even think of it,” his form moves closer to follow you, you take the lead and start to head up stairs. Johnny follows after, next is Simon. You look over the bannister as Elizabeth gets a call. She looks up to you,

“Come on over for dinner dear, I need to take this. Take care of her boys.”

Johnny is quick to follow with “of course.” 

With that she gives a wave and answers the phone, the sound of her light talking resonating until she heads out the front door. This leaves you three heading up the stairs into the hall. At the top of the stairs, ahead of you, is a short hall to your dads office, the room evident by the stuffed fish hanging on the door. To the right is a bridge leading to the game or common room. Here there is evidence of a recent game of pool. You look at Johnny and he just smiles.

“Your dad has beaten me too many times.”

You take a look around the room. Photos of sports games, swords and some pictures from your childhood hang mixed into the eclectic decor. What is new is the addition of a cabinet, inside a few amber bottles signal your dads alcohol collection. A bottle of bourbon sits next to two tumblers. Next to them is a space that has seemingly been cleared for art. 

You recognize the easel you made for Johnny when you were 16. The window is open and you can tell he’s been painting as a half finished still life sits patiently on the easel. You move into the room to examine it.

Mixed with the smell of paint is lavender, hung upside down to dry in a corner of the room. You hear Johnny enter behind you before you feel a presence at your back a firm chest then presses against your shoulders and an arm reaches past you to adjust some fresh lavender in a vase: the subject of the still life, lit in the warm rays of sunlight.

His other hand hangs next to yours and you feel his fingers brush yours. It's a test you think, a cusp at the edge of the ocean you find yourself dancing at. Your heart beats, some strange sense of fear twinges at you though, but before you can pull away your pinky takes his. It's shy but you feel his hand flex before his fingers curl around yours. His other hand comes to rest at your waist.

“Simon helped me set it up. Your parents gave me a spare key and asked me to watch the house since I was here.”

“It’s pretty Johnny.”

“I know, it reminds me of you.”

Your head turns him at that. You knew where he was coming from. When Rachel was alive you would help her grow lavender in her mom’s yard. You would then take the flowers, fresh from harvesting, and dry them to use for her paper making or baking. Their meaning of devotion is what drew Rachel to want to grow them. Elizabeth always encouraged you three to scamper around in her garden as children after Rachel’s dad passed away when she was young. Johnny became an older brother figure for the only child. 

After her death, and leaving for your masters, you continued to garden despite living in a city. You worked hard at your patch in a community garden, growing sunflowers for their seeds and petals. 

Johnny’s face turns to you, a calm over it. You can hear Simon set the bags down before entering the room behind you. 

“How long are you here for?”

It’s Simon that asks what's been on Johnny’s mind.

“As long as I need to be really, but I am not sure…” 

Your voice trails off in uncertainty as you feel Johnny squeeze your hand. Thankfully your work could be done online, cataloging, research, and reference questions. You move and Johnny releases you, allowing you to move forward to take in the room more.

The still-life is roughly shaped, with mixed color bending to provide the iridescence of the vase. Your eyes trail up to the line as the flowers of the lavender remain unfinished. The sunlight is warm in the room's chill and you take the quiet moment to reset yourself mentally.

You were finally home.

You take in a deep breath before stepping back from the painting and turning. Your eyes find Simon first as he takes in the room, you follow his eyes and find a stool set up in another corner of the the room where there is some small wood working tools. You grin when you see him wander over and pick up a whittled bear. 

So he has been around as well for Johnny. 

You find the quiet nature of the man to be enduring. You eyes then turn to Johnny, who has had his attention solely on you. Your heart quickens under his content observation. His eyes soften and he steps forward to you. His voice is a quiet murmur, something sweet and reserved for you, he calls your name. 

“I missed you.”

Your heart clenches as he raises a hand, ghosting the side of your face, his movements cautious, as if he was afraid to startle you, or make you run.

You look up at him,

Were you ready for this?

The loss of Rachel had broken your heart. Not to mention him not even telling you. After leaving you had seeked out therapy and with the help of some new friends and a loving work enviorment, you were able to heal. You could now understand why he didn’t tell you, but it still hurt nonetheless. 

Back in the moment, you can feel the warmth of his hand near your cheek, you finally bring yourself to press your face into it. Johnny lets out a shaky breath, seemingly unbelieving of the moment, you take the next step to put your hand over his. 

The smile that pulls onto his lips takes your breath away, his eyes seem then like aquamarine stones, the essence of the ocean and a fresh spring rain set like jewels. You want to look away then, a feeling of some undeserved shyness and doubt pulling at your chest, but Johnny tsks, his heart pounding before his eyes turn to your lips.

“No more running Hen, not again.”

Your eyes water then as a lingering though of depression stalks your mind.

“But-”

He hushes you by pulling you to his chest.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The statement causes a crack in the wall guarding your heart.

Why did you let her go, why weren’t you with her, why did you run-

A hand in your hair shushes you as Johnny runs a hand through it. 

“She told me not to tell you because she didn’t want you to see her in the state she was in. I wanted to tell you but she said she wanted to be alone and I had to respect that.”

You mind races, you think you could understand it then, in the moment. Rachel wouldn’t have wanted you to worry, to see her grow weaker. In the end she had protected you, willing herself to be alone in order to save you from watching her suffer.

Johnny seems to sense it then because he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, the soft action breaking the swirling storm in your head. You pull back to look up at him with wide eyes. 

“You are not alone, never again”

It's a stern promise and you bring your  hand up his arm, fingers gently sprawled out, taking in the warmth of his skin and the strength of his muscles. On his arm you find the same S.A.S. tattoo matching Simon’s. A bandage creeps out from under his shirt sleeves and you trace it, following the curve of his shoulder to his collarbone. Underneath his shirt you can see his service tags. His breath ticks when your hand moves up his neck.

“You know,” you start eyes turning down as your face hearts up admiting what follows, 

“I actually worte out letters, to you, to Rachel. My therapist recommended writing everything down.”

You feel him swallow and a hand moves around you, resting at your waist.

“I should have reached out.”

His voice comes out lower when you reach his cheek, the tips of your finger tracing the tips of the bandage around his head. Soft tufts of brown hair curl as you brush his hair back.

“You respected my decision. What happened Johnny?”

You hear Simon move. Johnny’s free hand takes your examining one.

“A mission went south and I was hit,” his eyes darken then and you feel a dread fill you, “it almost killed me. Put me in the hospital as they took the bullet out.”

He brings your palm to his lips and presses a kiss there, his grasp engulfing your hand and thumb circling on the back of your palm.

“Simon was able to drag me out in time. But all I could think about was you.”

Your eyes widen at that, he seems to take this as a sign,

“I let you leave, Hen, I left you alone. I couldn’t protect Rachel but she made me swear to protect you and I just let you go. I was a coward for not reaching out sooner. I kept up with your parents and when I got back they left me a key before leaving. When the anniversary was coming I started on the sketch, I helped Elizabeth with the garden. When she started going through Rachel’s things, I hoped it was time you would come home.”

You hand in his shifts, he lets go and you see his face fall but you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers. At that, his shoulders loosen.

“I’m not leaving like that, not again.” 

You squeeze his hand, heart racing when he smiles down at you,

“You better not, I’d hate to have to chase you down.”

You think you feel something in your heart shift, and a bubble of laughter tumbles out your mouth. There is a lustrous shine in your mind then, something you had thought you’d hidden away from the light after all this time, love. 

Fin! :D