Soap Is The Type Of Boyfriend To Wear The Most Silliest Shirts You Buy Him For Christmas

does anybody know the fic where its an alternate universe where simon went to jail and became ur penpal I LOST THE FIC PLS HELP A GIRL OUT

What if Ghost really was a ghost? They say that sometimes a ghost attaches itself to a person rather than a location and this often happens early in life. What if Ghost had picked you at some random point in your childhood? He’d be protective beyond the boundaries of any normal, physical person, preventing harm from coming to you.

When you were small you never seemed to get the bumps and bruises other children got, almost as though an unseen hand was always there to catch you. In school the bullies rarely bothered you, as strange things happened when anyone tried to shove you. Shoelaces suddenly untied making the bully fall, of bags suddenly opened and their contents spilled. The one time someone decided to actually try to hit you, they flew backwards across the hall but the teacher didn’t believe it wasn’t you and you got in trouble. That’s teachers car then refused to start ever again.

As you got older and started taking an interest in dating things got really weird though. Make out sessions always ended abruptly when your partner suddenly got a bad headache, the atmosphere in the room becoming oppressive and cold, ever single time someone tried to touch you.

It was like the protective spirit wanted to keep you for himself. No one else was allowed to touch you. But when you lay alone, finding pleasure and release by yourself, you always felt a familiar presence, a weight pressing down ontop of you as you touched yourself.

Even though you couldn’t feel breath against your neck you could hear it, a rhythmic faint sound as though someone were mimicking the actions of your hands, kissing your neck without making contact.

On a few occasions you swore you felt something nudging against your hole, something that wasn’t there but sent a cold shiver along your nerves to your spine as you were pressed harder into the mattress by the unseen shape.

And when you finally came, still alone in the sweat soaked sheets, the phantom sighing sounded like someone saying mine.

soap coming up to you at a bar, hitting on you, buying you a drink, leaning in to talk in your ear. and a guy comes up to you to loudly ask 'is this guy bothering you?' and soap throws his head back and laughs as you roll your eyes and say 'yes but he's my boyfriend so he's allowed to'

Barry sloane with his dog, darla :)

You always find Simon in the same spot—sitting on his couch with a mug of tea in one hand, the TV on but the volume low, like he’s watching it just for background noise. He barely moves when you come in, just shifts his head a little like he was expecting you, even though you never text to say you're coming.

“And then she rolled her eyes at me,” you say as you drop down next to him, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Like I was the one being unreasonable for asking her to hold the door.”

Simon doesn’t react right away, which isn’t unusual. He lets a second or two pass, like he’s thinking it through, even though he probably made up his mind as soon as he heard your tone. Finally, he hums quietly and says, “She’s not worth your breath,” while reaching over to pat the top of your head in that way he always does.

You don’t even bother hiding how much you like that. You lean into his hand just a little, and for a moment you let the annoyance melt off your face.

It’s always like this between you and Simon. You walk in, already mid-rant about something that annoyed you during training or some dumb argument someone had in the mess, and he just listens. Or, well—he sits there while you go off, mostly quiet, only chiming in with a few words here and there.

But he always makes it clear he’s paying attention. The way his eyes shift to look at you when your voice tightens. The way he’ll hand you a blanket or a snack before you even ask. The way he remembers the tiny details you forget you even told him.

You joke sometimes that you adopted him. That you took in this emotionally unavailable soldier who barely likes people and decided that he’s your best friend now, whether he wanted that or not. He never complains. He never tells you to leave. Even when you steal his cookies or fall asleep on his couch, he just lets you stay.

He’s quiet, sure, but he’s also dependable in a way that makes everything feel easier when you’re around him. You can talk to him for hours and he won’t interrupt, won’t judge, won’t try to fix it unless it’s something he can fix. And when it is, he usually does—without making a big deal out of it.

So when you started seeing that guy from base, Simon didn’t say anything. You thought maybe he just didn’t care, or that he wasn’t the type to get involved in stuff like that. He didn’t ask many questions. Just nodded and said, “He treatin’ you right?” in that low voice of his that didn’t give much away.

You smiled and said yes, because at the time, it felt like the right answer.

He stayed the same after that. Still your go-to person for venting. Still the only one who ever made you feel like you could talk without holding back.

But every now and then, you noticed something shift. He wouldn’t look at you as much when you brought up your boyfriend. He’d change the subject quicker. And when you said something like, “he forgot our plans again,” Simon would just sigh and hand you tea or cookies or whatever he had nearby, like he didn’t want to say what was really on his mind.

You remember one night clearly, when you showed up outside Simon’s door after a long shift. You were quiet, which was rare, and you didn’t even try to hide the frustration in your eyes.

“He forgot again,” you mumbled, pulling your knees up onto the couch. “Said he’d pick me up, and then just... nothing. Not even a text.”

Simon didn’t say much in response. He just handed you the remote and tapped your shoulder once, like that was his way of saying you deserved better without actually having to say the words out loud.

But the breaking point came later. One night, you showed up to his room without even thinking, your eyes red and puffy, your hands trembling a little as you wiped at your face. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t need to. He just stepped aside and let you walk in, like he’d been expecting you again, like he knew this was coming.

“He cheated,” you said, and the words felt so bitter and small in your mouth that you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

Simon pulled you into a hug before you could even finish the sentence. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to offer advice or tell you what you should’ve done. He just held you, solid and quiet, with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other smoothing over your hair. You didn’t realize you were crying until your face was already buried in his shirt.

At some point, he moved you to his bed. You weren’t even sure how, but you ended up under his blanket, wrapped in warmth that didn’t come from the sheets, and you felt safer than you had in weeks. His voice was low when he whispered, “Don’t worry about it,” like he was promising to carry the weight of it for you.

You didn’t know it then, but he didn’t sleep that night. He stayed up until you were out cold, then got up quietly, left his room, and came back a few hours later like nothing happened. What you also didn’t know—what he would never admit unless you asked him directly—was that he had counted every single tear that rolled down your face. Every shaky breath, every time your chest stuttered with a sob. He remembered the number. Kept it in his head. Then found your ex and hit him that many times. One punch for every tear you cried.

A few days passed, and word started going around base that your ex hadn’t been seen. Missed duty. No one could get ahold of him. You didn’t ask Simon anything. You just looked at him across the mess hall, saw the way he was nursing a cup of tea with a blank expression and fresh tape wrapped around his hand, and something in your chest clicked into place.

You didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, and he looked back, and that was enough.

Later, after things calmed down, you found yourself back in his room. Same spot on the couch. Same blanket. Same you and Simon. But this time, out of nowhere, he said, “I’m in love with you.”

It wasn’t dramatic or emotional. He said it like it was just a fact—like he was finally telling the truth after hiding it for too long.

You blinked at him, not even sure you heard him right. “What?”

He shrugged a little, like it didn’t matter if you believed him or not. “Figured you should know.”

You didn’t know what to say right then. There was too much in your head. But a few days later, he took you somewhere quiet, away from base, with a folded blanket under his arm and your favorite cookies packed in a tin. He made tea and handed you the mug like he always did, and when you sipped it, it was just the way you liked it—strong, with that little bit of honey he adds even when you don’t ask.

You sat next to him, legs stretched out on the grass, shoulder pressed against his. After a while, you turned to look at him and said, “You’ve been looking at me like that for a long time, haven’t you?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Like what?”

“Like I’m your whole world.”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but the look on his face said more than words ever could. Then he reached over, patted your head like he always did, and said, “Yeah. That’s about right.”

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212

To all my fellow poor bastards who just got the new twitter-style tumblr dashboard

You can fix it via:

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or

Old Tumblr Dashboard (July 2023) 1. Add-on the Stylus extension (Firefox) (Chrome) (Edge) 2. Click blue "Install" button on the Old Tumblr Dashboard webpage

john price likes to be dependable for his partner that has trouble with social interactions and people mistake them for dummies.

it's like the whole relationship is a role play for others. he'll have you all pretty and dolled up, a real trophy wife in the eyes of others. glued to his side and silent during most social gatherings he has to attend, nodding politely in small greetings and never letting anyone linger around for too long.

people wonder if you have a brain of your own. sometimes it seems like john even tells you what to say and they question just how much you depend on him on your day to day.

what they don't know is that, every day after you've made breakfast, he sits down on a chair across from you at the kitchen table and ask a billion questions about what he should do about that paperwork and how can he fix that one thing or how he could possible be a better friend for that one person as you eat.

you're his little walking dictionary who talks his ear off whenever you have the chance, so he takes advantage of it by bringing all types of topics for you to discuss.

and the best part? only john knows that part of you, at least in a deeper and meaningful level.

someone said price eats his girl out before work so he can have her smell on him or something, and that's so incredibly bold of him considering johnny mactavish exists.

simon for sure

like until he meets his girl he’s just viewing sex as a base need that must be met, and nothing more. n he clarifies to the girls he hooks up w by never fucking them “properly”. bcz he does not want them to confuse his actions for intimacy or affection.

n then he totally switches up after being w his girl for a while. man is pussy whipped bcz now he has a breeding kink. gotta make sure she’s his forever!!

YES <333333333 I LOVEEEEEEEE SIMON "AVOIDS INTIMACY LIKE THE PLAGUE" RILEY !!!!!!