Latest Posts by jnsmeyv - Page 7

Reblog this if you slept with my ex-wife Susan.

Trying to prove a point to my divorce lawyer.

You ask Simon for another favor :)

Simon bumps into you, a troubled woman whose boyfriend kicked her out after he found out she's pregnant

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You call him again. You have to. To apologize. And it goes straight to voicemail. 

“Hey, Simon. Just wanted to say I'm so sorry. That was the last favor. I won’t be a nuisance anymore. At least I'll try... sorry.” you say and hang up, promising yourself not to dial this number ever again. 

Now you have to find a job. “Ugh...” you put your head in your hands and groan. 

“Hey, Simon. So sorry. Last favor. I promise. Could you...umm... if there are any jobs available... that you know of... could you please inform me? I used to be a receptionist at a hospital... if... if that’s useful information. Thanks. Sorry... again” 

‘Fucking shit...’ you think, ‘I can’t keep asking him for favors.’ 

But he’s the only person who’s shown you any kindness in your time of need. 

And he’s the only person you know right now whom you can rely on. 

He's the only one you have. 

A few days later, he calls you back, but you’re too busy emptying your stomach in the toilet, so he leaves a message saying that he knows of an available job and asks you to meet him in the cafe you went to the night you bumped into each other. 

He feels like he will regret this decision, and struggles with himself to let you in or not. But he seems unable to stay away. He has come this far in protecting you. He can't let you down. But the thoughts won't stop prancing around his mind.

What if he’s endangered your safety by his recklessness? While you’re oblivious to the dangers of being with him? And his past... you know nothing of his past. And it’s not fair to you. You have to know the whole picture to make this decision for yourself. But can he trust you? 

You meet at the time and place which he chose. He gives you only the information you need to know in order to apply for the job, refraining from spilling too much about himself... for now. And he gives you the number of his captain, John Price whom you should call. 

What you don’t know is that they know every little thing about you. Of course they would run a background check on you before giving you any information. 

About a week later, one week of pure anxiety and agony due to your pregnancy, also the job application and not hearing even one word from them, Simon calls to let you know that you will be working as his assistant, starting this Monday.

2 ibuprofen and dick from that old man would fix me

when their foreplay is just *intense eye contact* and *killing people together*

Over And Over Again

Pairing: Ex-husband John Price x GN!reader

TW//CW: Angst, flashbacks, yelling, fighting, brief mention of suicidal ideation, manipulation, gaslighting, blood, parental trauma, coerced drinking.

A/N: Hopefully this part will explain some questions about their past relationship.

Words: 5,147

You are currently reading Chapter 4

The Do-Over Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

Shutting the door behind John didn't feel real. Hearing his car pull out of the driveway again didn't feel real. 

Walking into your bedroom and into your bathroom to shower didn't feel real. The water didn't feel real.

Everything felt so distant. Like it wasn't really happening. There was a numbness that had washed over you, making nothing feel like anything. 

Sitting on your floor, still naked and wrapped in your towel you pulled out a box from under your bed, opening it you sifted through its contents, past letters and notes from friends and family, your birth certificate, social security card. All of it was here, but you were looking for something in particular. 

Pulling out your wedding ring you held it in your hand, feeling the cool metal against the palm of your hand. It was so cold it felt foreign to hold. It was once always warm, always against your skin. A feeling you knew better than almost any other. One you were once proud to have. 

All at once the memories came flooding back in. All at once something felt too real.

"Can you do more? Try harder? We all have to help around the house. You're an adult now. I need you to do more. And you need to go to work more, you have rent you need to pay, and insurance." Your mother's lecturing voice clawed into your eardrums. 

"I'm trying my best, I do help. I do more than you think I do. I'm working as much as I can." You felt like it was killing you, working so hard and receiving so little. It had always been this way. You were seen as nothing but lazy.

"I never see you do anything. And you could be going into work more, you should be getting forty hours. You're an adult." Your mother continued, shooting down your efforts.

"You don't see everything. I'm doing all the work they have for me. Why does it matter? I pay you, I put money away in savings. I'm doing alright. I've been working since I was fifteen." No matter how often you tried to explain that you were making it, she wouldn't listen.

"Well, you've needed to pay me since you were fifteen. So you needed a job. You want to be someone someday don't you? This is life, this is what we do. We work. This is how you become someone. So unless you marry someone, this is your life, living here until you can move out." You didn't have the energy to argue, she was right. She always was.

Turning the ring over in your hand you felt tears welling back into your eyes as another memory came to mind. You'd cried a lot tonight. Apparently you weren't done yet. 

Sitting utterly alone in your bedroom, you were about to be plagued by a parade of memories, forced to watch each one pass you one by one like fancily decorated floats. You did this too often, let your past walk all over you, throw things at you until you had too much to hold.

"I'm going for a walk." You informed your parents, stepping out the front door without protest.

Your feet took you to a familiar path, one you walked often. One you probably shouldn't walk on, you knew it was stupid and dangerous, especially the bridge. 

But the walk made you feel better. Especially when you'd walk with music blasting in your ears. Leaving the possibilities of something bad happening open. You knew that thought process was wrong. Which is why you didn't have your music today.

"You shouldn't walk on the tracks, you know. It's dangerous." A voice behind you startled you, making you trip and stumble on the railroad ties, you were able to recover without falling thankfully. You hadn't heard anyone around you. You needed to be better about zoning out.

"Yeah? I had no idea." Sarcasm dripped from your voice, turning around to face whoever it was that was talking to you. It was a man, a few years older than you. A smooth babyface, soft eyes, he was built an abnormal amount for a typical person his age. "Who are you anyways? Why do you care?"

"My name's John. I care because there's so few people in the world who look as nice as you, so it'd be a shame for you to be hit by a train."  His response made you roll your eyes.

"Oh, I get it. You're a creepy bum. Stop following me." You turned to keep walking, trying to leave him behind, but he followed you, jogging to catch up and walk beside you.

"You're delightful aren't you? And I'm not a bum."  He defended himself, not letting you continue alone. Maybe he could tell you were upset. Maybe he understood.

"Then what are you, John?" You asked a bit accusatorially, stopping to face him. 

"I'm in the S.A.S." Suddenly you heard a door opening, a way out. They moved around a lot, didn't they? Looking down you inspected his left hand, no ring.

"You seem a little young for being in the S.A.S." You were skeptical, untrusting. You needed to know he wasn't lying to you. He was no use to you if he really was just a weirdly strong creep.

"I joined the infantry at sixteen." He explained, a small smile coming to his face as he watched you take him in.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm assuming it's an explanation." John was going to become someone, John was going places. You wanted to catch a ride, you wanted out. 

Your struggles were a completely different battle when you were young, time doesn't heal everything. But it can take you away from those things, make them hurt less. John made them hurt less.

For a time.

"Who's this? This your boyfriend? He's so sweet looking." Your mother smiled, moving in to hug John, embracing him like she knew him, despite this being the first time she met him. "I'm a hugger." 

John seemed a bit awkward and unsure of your mother, he'd heard you rant about her a few times, just small things. But from his own experience he knew what she was probably like. "You have a good kid, good head on their shoulders." 

"Don't I? I raised them well." You could feel a bubble of anger rise in you, she didn't raise you. You raised yourself.  

You'd carried so much anger and resentment for your mother when you were younger. A lot of it was well earned. But the ways you'd sometimes treat her in return still ate at you. She was trying to overcome how she was raised. Just as you were now.

It just wasn't fair that you had to become a stepping stool for her to find peace for herself. It wasn't fair that she got to believe she was the reason you turned out okay when she was one of the biggest things you had to overcome.

"So, do you like John?" Your mother asked you curiously, sitting on the end of your bed, interrupting you from reading your book.

"I don't know yet. I think I do." You shrugged, putting your book down. Talking about this stuff with your mother made you feel sick.

"You like him, I can tell. You know you could have told me you were dating someone." She nudged your leg, trying to play with you, but you could hear a hint of her lecturing tone slipping through.

"It slipped my mind I guess. Sorry." You apologized. You found it easier to apologize immediately rather than let things keep going, keep escalating. Even when you apologized sometimes she still preferred to keep digging in deeper.

"You know you can talk to me about anything. Anytime." She was trying to be sincere, she really was. It just felt wrong to you. It felt wrong to talk to your mom. It always ended in a lecture of some kind.

"Yeah, mom. I know."  You reassured her, really just wanting to get back to reading your book.

Looking up to your ceiling you tried to stop your tears, wiping at them furiously. You were shaking again, but that may have been because you were still just in a towel. You couldn't stop yourself from crying, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout as you ugly cried.

"So, when are you and John going to get married?" Your mother questioned as you walked through the front door after work.

"Mom, it's been six months. Two of which he was gone." You took a deep breath, putting your bag down and taking off your work shoes. "Why are you so concerned about me getting hitched?"

"I was married at nineteen. You could be too. Especially since John is a good man. I think you should marry him." Your mom smiled at you, explaining her reasoning. She wanted you to sit down and talk to her about it. But you brushed her off. 

"I don't know yet." You grabbed your bag and started walking off.

"I was talking to you!" Your mom called after you.

Why did you ever let your family get the idea of marriage in your head? Why was that the thing that was supposed to fix you? Maybe if you had decided for yourself that you wanted to be married you could have gotten to that point with John on your own.

You could have actually been ready to get married. You could have learned how the world was supposed to work. How relationships were supposed to work.

"John, I want out of this stupid town. I want out of my parents house." You sat in a tree with him, watching the sunset, there were stars coming out now. Things felt right in these moments with John.

"We could get married, we could move somewhere. I've been thinking I want to be closer to base. We could get married and go together. There's a lot of pros to marrying me." John suggested the idea to you, taking your left hand in his, playing with your ring finger.

"There are..." You held his hand tighter. "You're the first person I've felt this way towards. Maybe that's a sign."

You wailed, curling up on your cold hard floor. You felt pathetic, but you knew you needed to let yourself feel all of this.

To finally fully process and let go of everything that brought you and John together in the first place. Everything he was to you. Everything he did for you. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

"Welcome home, sweetheart." John opened the door to your new apartment for you, holding your hand softly, your wedding band rubbing against his rough skin. "Look around, I'll get our bags from the car." 

You walked around your new home, both your families had moved your stuff in while you were on your honeymoon. This was your first time seeing the place, it was nice. It was far away from your family. It was perfect.

"I know it's not much. One day I'll get us an actual house, I promise." John came inside, setting your bags down. You smiled at him, jumping on him in a bear hug.

"No, it's perfect." You reassured him, kissing his face repeatedly. You were the happiest you'd been in a long time. You were happy to be married to John. To be able to call him your husband. To be out of your old home. Things were looking up.

Remembering the good years tore you apart. The few good years when you were just happy to be with John. When things were working out, when the compromise was listening to him and you were happy to do so.

They were all supposed to be good years. It was all supposed to be good. You were supposed to live out the rest of your life happily with John. But all good seasons have to come to an end.

The memory of the first time you broke down and called your mom still stung. When you had a moment of weakness and just needed your mom. You needed your mom like how you saw others need your mom all of growing up. How could she turn you away when she didn't turn them away?

"Mom, I'm not really happy. We fight a lot." You spoke into the landline, wiping at your tears. Feeling guilty for needing to talk to her. Feeling guilty you needed to talk to someone about your marriage.

"You love him don't you?" Your mom asked curiously, sounding mildly concerned. 

"Yes." Your voice trembled as you spoke. You just needed your mom. You needed to talk to your mom. 

"Then there you go, all marriages have troubles. But since you love him I'm sure you can work it out. Me and your dad fight but we love each other so we make it work. Anyways, I have to go. I'll talk to you later. Okay?" She brushed off your need to talk to her. Your desperation to just be consoled by her.

"Okay. Love you." You hiccupped. Knowing now you shouldn't have bothered. She only cared to listen to your problems if they helped prove her point. This did nothing for her, listening to you now was like listening to a gnat. Inconsequential to her.

"Love you." She hung up on you, leaving the receiver beeping in your ear. Leaving you in shambles alone. Leaving you once again believing you were the problem.

You probably were. You just needed to try harder, work harder to fix things. You loved him. So that was enough for things to work out.

Your screams didn't even make a sound, they were just a rushing of air and a tightness in your throat as you sat up from the floor, sitting with your back against your bed, clutching your ring against your chest.

"I don't want another, I'm okay." You refused another drink, a polite smile on your face.

"Oh come on, you've only had one. I didn't think your wife was a killjoy, John, with the way you talk so highly of them. I thought we could all have some fun." One of John's friends complained, trying to push another drink over to you.

"Come on love, it's okay. You can handle another drink, right? Nothing bad will happen to you as long as I'm here. Just drink a little more, if you can't finish it I will." John tried to reassure you, wrapping his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder, bringing you in closer to him. Away from his buddy.

"Okay." You caved, accepting another glass of alcohol. "But I'm not drinking all of it."

John's friend kept drinking, and then he kept drinking. He was totally pissed, babbling on and on about things you couldn't even understand. He was making you uncomfortable, but John reassured you he was harmless.

"Your wife sure is something John. I see why you married them." John's friend drunkenly giggled, reaching his hand out towards you, John pushed away his hand. Bringing you closer to himself. John's eyes were dark and dangerous, something you'd never really seen with him.

"I think you've had enough to drink. Let's get you home." John stood up from the booth, helping his friend up, putting his friend's arm around his shoulder to help him walk straight. "Come on, love. We'll take him home then we can go home too." 

"Oh, okay." You followed close to John, you were buzzed, but you were alright.

"You're such a good man John, being willing to share such a nice thing." John's friend stumbled away from John, wrapping his arm around you. His breath reeked of the alcohol he was drinking, his arm around you was heavy. Felt wrong. 

"What?" Your sudden panic of betrayal was short lived. One moment John's buddy was all over you, then the next John was on him, several feet away from you on the ground.

One hit, then two. John just kept hitting him. Over and over again. His knuckles were bloody, each time he pulled back his arm to hit him again you saw them, it wasn't his own blood. "Don't you ever touch them. Don't you ever touch my wife."

"John. John, that's enough. John, he's had enough." You grabbed John's shoulder, trying to calm him down. It was as if he hadn't even heard you, he just kept hitting his friend. "John, John. John! JOHN! Stop!" 

The sound of your screaming made him stop, stumbling up off of his now unconscious friend. You were surprised the damage wasn't worse, he was holding his punches and he was still a bloody mess. 

"It's alright, I've got you." He wrapped his arms around you, soothing you with his bloody hands, whispering sweetly into your ear, his nose pressed to your temple. The blood on his hands ruining your shirt.

Biting your lip you tried to stop it's quivering. You didn't want to remember that. You didn't want to have to think about that day anymore. It was one of the biggest turning points in your marriage. It was the day things started to get really bad.

"I'm trying to fix things okay?" John yelled at you, running his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry if what I did was shocking to you. I was just trying to get him away from you. I was angry, unbelievably angry."

"John, you're always angry." You cried, trembling as you stood before him. Sobbing like the mess you were.

"Well, who's fault is that?" His tone was biting, tearing into you. "Stop looking at me like that, stop looking at me with that scared face! I have never laid a hand on you. I would never lay a hand on you. So stop acting like a victim." 

You could hardly breathe, climbing from the floor you sat on the edge of your bed, adjusting your towel that had started to slip away from your body. Bringing it around you tighter.

"Mom, things have gotten worse between us. We're both tense since the incident." You called your mom, trying to cry to her again.

"That's normal. Fights are scary to see, but he was protecting you. Defending your honor. You're not worried he'd hit you right?" You could hear her washing the dishes on the other side of the line. Your concerns weren't even worth her full attention. You weren't worth her attention.

"I don't know." You ran your hand through your hair, trying to soothe yourself.

"You love him right?" She seemed to be listening a little better now, if only to hear the answer to her question.

"Yes." You sniffled, wiping the snot from your nose on the sleeve of your sweater.

"Then things will work out. This will pass. Just try to work harder on your relationship." Work harder. Work harder. All you needed to do was work harder. Push farther. Be better. Do better.

Standing from your bed you weighed your ring in your hand, screaming, you threw it as hard as you could. It hit your wall, falling down behind your dresser, as you heard it hit the floor you sunk down to your knees sobbing.

"You know how I said I'd get us a house someday? Well, since I'm being moved to another base we need somewhere closer to live. And I found the perfect place, it's everything you've ever told me you wanted. And, I think a change of scenery could be good for us." John announced to you, a smile on his face.

"It's an actual house? Like, our actual house? We're not renting anymore?" You asked, excitement coursing through you. Jumping up you jumped on him, making him chuckle as he caught you.

"Yes, and it's perfect for us. Has lots of character, just needs a little work." He spun you around. This could be a fresh start, somewhere away from everything you knew, a place to make new memories and experiences.

Your fingers traced over a scratch in the hardwood, you couldn't remember how it got there, maybe it was there before you moved in. Something about it felt familiar.

This home was supposed to fix things, as you fixed it, it was supposed to in turn fix you, your relationship. But relationships can't be fixed with recaulking and repainting. You learned that from trying. 

"By work I didn't think you meant demolition and rebuilding." You joked, stepping out of the car, seeing the house for the first time. 

"It's what I could do, love. And, it's not that bad. Just needs some new paint. We can do it together." John playfully nudged you, pushing you softly. 

"Together." You agreed, laying your head against his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his waist. The moving truck would be there soon with your things, but right now you could just take in the sight of your new home with your husband.

You covered your face in your hands, you wanted to hide. Hide from remembering. The snot running from your nose was beginning to suffocate you, you couldn't breathe through your nose anymore. 

You were still trying to cry out, still trying to wail and scream. But you had no voice left, you'd barely get a squeak out. There was just too much hurt.

"Mom, things are actually getting better. I think this project together is what we needed. We've gotten most of the outside done, but the inside is still unpainted, it has some old wallpaper, I think John's plan is to peel it. It's nice wallpaper but it's peeling already in a few places." You tried to catch your mom up, actually happy to share good news with her.

"That's great. I have to go, but keep up the hard work." She was never going to listen to you. Not when she had other things to do. Not when you were not the most important thing.

"Oh, okay. Bye." You let her hang up, off to do who knows what.

You often mourned the relationship you could have had with your mother, if you were only more like her. Thought, talked, acted, more like her.

If you would have just let her keep controlling and dictating your life. If you'd never left her maybe she would have loved you as a mother should. 

If you reminded her less of your father. Maybe she could have liked you more.

Maybe if it wasn't for her own father, she could have been a better mother.

"Good work, another wall done." You admired your hard work on the outside of the house, putting your hand on John's shoulder mischievously.

"You just got paint on me didn't you?" He looked at your hand on his shoulder before he looked at your face. A knowing look on his face.

"Yep." You laughed, lifting your hand to show him your  palm covered in paint, and the spot on his shirt that now had your handprint. 

"You little-" You booked it, running away and laughing. 

"It's just paint! No need for retaliation!" You watched as John dipped his hands into the paint, chasing after you, you screamed as you ran away. "Stay away from me!"

"Why? It's just paint." He continued after you, much too quick for comfort. "Come on, I just want to embrace my loving wife, you don't want your husband to embrace you?" 

"No!" You laughed, slowing down. You did not have his endurance, you felt like your limbs were going to fall off before playing this prank. Now you were sure you'd die with the stitch that was in your side.

"You already have paint on you, what's a little more?" John caught you, wrapping his arms around you, he put his hands on your abdomen, getting paint on your shirt, marking you with his handprints. 

You continued to laugh. "Okay, okay. Now we're even." You turned around in his grasp to face him, kissing him tenderly.

"Not yet." He cupped your face, leaving a handprint on your cheek. "Now we're even."

You cupped your cheek, feeling where he'd left the handprint. It was long gone. But a piece of you could still feel it. There was so much good mixed in with the bad.

Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you put in a good fight and still lose. Sometimes holding on too tight is the worst thing you can do. Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself and someone else is let go. 

Acceptance is a small, quiet room. Filled with so much thought and pain you'd think it was filled with angry bees.

"Now that we've finished the outside, are we going to paint the inside together too?" You asked curiously, sitting down with John on your couch, draping your legs over him. He seemed a bit tense, but you were sure you could help him relax. Unwind.

"Actually, I got a call. I have to go, I'm wanted at base. But, you start and I'll help you finish. Pick whatever colors you want." He kissed your forehead, patting your thighs before moving your legs off of him so he could go get his stuff ready to leave.

"Oh. Okay." You watched him leave you. Knowing you'd end up peeling all the wallpaper by yourself. Painting the entire inside of the house yourself. 

Even when you didn't appreciate each other anymore he still felt like your other half. Sometimes he still feels like your other half. The half that's missing. The half you'd sent away so many times. The half you'd watched walk out on you. The half that you weren't sure would come back to make you whole. 

Things began to get worse again, you were either fighting or ignoring the other. You'd have moments where things were good. But you both were distant. You didn't even notice you were crumbling until you fell apart. 

So many years together, so much time and energy spent trying to make things work. 

You just couldn't try anymore. 

"John." You didn't know what to say, how to speak. All words stuck in your throat. 

"Yeah?" He looked up at you from where he sat at the table, a questioning look. You handed him some papers. "What's this?" He took the papers from you, looking them over. Divorce papers. "Oh, I see."

Your mind made you mostly forget what happened that night, but you know you fought, you know he yelled at you, said a lot of hurtful things. You could still remember that pain. But you couldn't remember what exactly it was that hurt so bad. 

His yelling went on for so long, so many hours. Then there was the slamming of the door, and he was gone. Truthfully you were still trying to process leaving him, sending him away.

The divorce went fast, he gave you the house, and most other things. All he took was all he needed. Everything else was left to you.

"Mom, I'm divorcing John." You sobbed at your own realization, having now said it out loud for the first time. This wasn't right. But this was what needed to be done. Your marriage was a sinking ship and you refused to let either of you drown anymore.

"Oh. I knew he was no good, I knew he was a bad man. I tried to tell you to be careful marrying young. Told you that you could stay home as long as you needed, there was no rush. This is what happens when you rush relationships and just jump into marriage." Your mothers unempathetic words struck you. The manipulation, the lies. The gaslighting.

"Mom, you-" You tried to argue, tried to call her out.

"So, are you going to move closer to home? You should." Your mother continued, ignoring you completely.

"No, John left me the house. Said I put in more work on it, so I could have it." You were honestly shocked how much John just gave to you freely in the divorce. How defeated he seemed. He just wanted to get it over with quick and easy. He didn't want to take anything more away from you.

"You really want to stay there in that house?" Your mothers tone was skeptical, unbelieving.

"I do, Mom. I have to go. We can talk later." You refused to let her drag you back home, you were never going to live with her again.

"Oh, okay. Love you." You should have known better, your mom was always like this. Always placing the blame onto you. You didn't know when it was going to stop surprising you.

The aching in your chest wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, you knew it well. At one point you were sure you'd die from it. But you hadn't, you'd just kept living. 

Day by day you'd just kept living. You were still living. You'd come so far, too far to be letting these things still hurt you the way they did.

You stood at the window, watching John put his last box into the moving truck, pulling the door down and securing it. 

It was the truck that was going to take him away. It hurt, watching him. This was really it, you were watching him actually leaving your life. He was going to be gone for good now. 

It felt cruel, being left here without him. Even if you were the one who decided he needed to leave. A life without John in it just didn't sound right. Though you supposed it was time to figure out how to live a life alone.

"No." You'd felt relief then, watching him leave. But you didn't now. You'd changed. He'd changed. You didn't want to miss out on meeting the new him. You didn't want to let your past self stop you from moving on from that hurt. 

You weren't going to lose something you couldn't replace.

He really had changed. He didn't fight with you, even when you were screaming in his face. He expressed the desire not to control anymore, he was truthful even when it was damaging to him. He wasn't just trying to change like he once said. He had changed. 

Desperately you moved to your dresser, pushing and shoving at it, it wouldn't budge. It was far too heavy.

Tearing your clothes from the drawers you threw them on the floor, ruining how neatly folded they were. Once it was empty you pushed again, getting it away from the wall, using your legs you moved it enough to get behind it. Grabbing your wedding ring you held it in your hands.

You didn't want to let go of someone who put in the effort to change. Someone who's trying to change for you. If you don't allow him grace, if you don't allow him to change, all it does is prove that you too, are incapable of changing. 

You had too much love for him, where was that love supposed to go? Even if it was a complicated love, it was still love. Love worth trying again for. Love worth trying again for with equal effort on both sides. 

After so many years your love still remained, you were still stuck with all that love. So why not try? Why not let the love try to find a home in someone one more time?

Mumma's boy

uhm

i don't mean to alarm any of y'all but

young barry sloane (circa early 2000s) had an eyebrow piercing

and this has got me thinking of young John Price and I just-

chewing on plywood rn

Barry Sloane as Eddie Wells in Passenger (2024)

single dad!simon riley x reader but he’s too scared to tell you about his son cause he thinks you’ll leave like everyone else did when they found out he has a kid

he’s just savoring this time he has with you before you inevitably leave.

but he doesn’t know that you already know. when you both got wine drunk one night (he’s an emotional drunk btw) he was so out of it that he started talking about his little boy

how much he loves him and how guilty he feels when he leaves for his newly taken short deployments (even though he’s chosen desk work and training recruits) and how much he wants you to meet him and love him just as much as he does.

he tells you that everyone else that he’s ever been interested in got told on the first date and they all left and said they couldn’t deal with it. which is why he’s so scared to tell you. he tells you how sorry he is and he’s crying at this point and you have to calm him down from a panic attack.

you had to act surprised a few months later when he finally told you

becoming an adult cheat sheet!

learn to coupon

what to do when you can’t afford therapy

cleaning your bathroom

what to do when you can’t pay your bills

stress management

quick fix meals

find out if you’re paying too much for your cell phone bill

resume workshop

organize your closet

how to take care of yourself when you’re sick

what you should bring to a doctor’s appointment

what’s a mortgage?

how to pick a health insurance plan

hotlines list

your first gynecology appointment

what to do if the cops pull you over

things to have in your car in case of emergency

my moving out masterpost

how to make friends as an adult (video)

how to do taxes (video)

recommended reads for surviving adulthood (video)

change a flat tire (video)

how to do laundry (video)

opening a bank account (video)

laundry cheat sheet

recipes masterpost

tricks to help you sleep more

what the fuck should you make for dinner?

where should you go for drinks?

alcohol: know your limits

easy makeup tips

find seat maps for your flight

self-defense tips

prevent hangovers

workout masterpost

how to write a check

career builder

browse careers

birth control information

financial management software & app (free)

my mental health masterpost

my college applications masterpost

how to jumpstart a car

sex ed masterpost

hiii are you talking about this?

https://www.tumblr.com/kittykattropicanna/738416230009061376/prisonpenpalsimon-masterlist-3

HELLO, YES THANK U ANOOOOOOON UR THE BEST

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

The Ocean

Anthology Dad!John Price/female reader A stranger arrives in Price's life.

The girl The bar The residents

Simon loves the scent of your hair and your skin, but he would do that thing where he would sniff like a dog right in ur ear because it tickles and his favorite pastime is annoying you

pretends to go in for a kiss and just

sniffsniffsniffsniff

YES HE WOULD

He’s such an ass for doing it too because he’s obnoxious with it. Baiting you with a kiss only to SNIIIFFF so loudly in your ear that it’s like going through a wind tunnel

Laughs when you yell at him and holds you so you can’t get away (he obviously stops when you’re genuinely angry) so he can do it again and again

Also jokes that your ear smells great

There’s just something about a man who’s attached to his hat that makes me feral

HIS TUMMY 😩🤭

gif by @samuelroukin <3

holy shit biblically accurate simon riley dropped

Physically I’m here mentally I’m married to John Price and we have a forever home together

HALLELUJAH PRAISE THE LORD

he looks even sillier I love him (@slepy544890)

imagine being able to say you fucked this man when he was a lieutenant AND a captain bye

Tired of washboard abs propaganda. We must post more tummy.

Simon “only soft for his missus” Riley.

cw pedophilia

can we all agree this kind of content needs to get fucked from our fandom?

this content, it's creators, and supporters are not welcome here, especially on my blog! <3

your face is starting to become a blur in my memory and it makes me wonder

if mine is becoming a blur in yours

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.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

this is what i eat everyday goys 🙏🙏

some1 tag me in all of those price x reader fluff fics 😞😞😞