#Ghostsoap

[spiltspit]

Playing with fire (in the sense i feel warm)

[hurrraaid]

Ghost in comfy clothes making soap want to wife him up HARD

[actuallyacat]

Tactical beach episode

[z-nth]

[fludderpy]

You already know who it is 💀🧼

[vozart]

simon prolly thinks this silly lil injured shark is a siren cause he’s got alluring ole blues

og post

[heladodavellana]

His Ass is not listening

[cale3k00]

[rimfaxe]

I need to remember to make soap more beefy, I always think I do but now I'm just... Nope. 🤣

[mushandbread]

Accurate

Ghost is just mad he's losing at Mario Kart

[spiltspit]

Wilderness camping ghoap 🫶

[hurrraaid]

Wow I am RUSTY but also WHAM!! take some good old memory loss angst!

[lay-z]

It's Simon texting Price, by the way.

[manikacm08]

Soap cake..💆‍♀️

[hatsbuckets]

A little domestic Ghoap blurb that I wrote as a "cool down" that I actually really like enough to post. They're tooth rottingly adorable your honor. Send them to cute jail. Disclaimer: this is me also practicing Soap's accent so... And I like to think it gets thick when he's mad at Ghost 🤷‍♀️.

...

Johnny didn’t say anything at first.

He just kept rinsing the mugs far too carefully. He set one down with a little more force than necessary.

Simon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong or am I supposed to read your passive-aggressive mug handling like tea leaves?”

Johnny huffed a laugh, short and empty. “Nae readin’ necessary. Just go tae bed, Ghost.”

That… made it worse. Johnny never used "Ghost." It was always "Si" at home. Or "Simon." Or "Riley" with a grin. Never Ghost. Simon stepped in. "Johnny."

“Ye could’ve just, I dunno, tilted yer fuckin’ head.” Johnny still didn’t look at him. “Or laughed. Or done anythin’ 'cept what ye did.”

Simon's brow creased. “What are you talking about?”

Johnny finally turned, drying his hands. His voice was tight now. “Back in the ops bay. When I called ye my boy.” He did air quotes, bitter and small. “An’ ye immediately made that ‘he’s just concussed’ joke.”

Simon blinked. “It was just—banter.”

“Nah. It was dodgin’.” Johnny shook his head, mouth twitching toward a smile that didn’t land. “God forbid anyone know I love ye, the great an’ scary Ghost."

Simon's face went still, carefully blank.

Johnny's disappointment only festered at it. He pressed the heels of his hands into the counter, looking down. “I’m no askin’ for a speech or a fuckin’ proposal. I’m not askin’ ye tae start shoutin’ it from rooftops.” He looked up again. “But I want tae know I’m not lovin’ ye in a fuckin’ vacuum.”

Simon exhaled sharply, his arms dropping. “You’re not.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one who says it first?” Johnny's voice cracked, just barely. “I’m always the one grabbin’ yer hand. Kissin’ ye in front o’ the others. Callin’ ye mine. You just… react."

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Johnny’s accent curled tighter around the words now, sharper, faster. “I know I’m no gettin’ a bloody make out session. I know you won’t say the words in front o’ them. I live wi’ that. But the dodgin’, Si!”

Simon's jaw clenched. “You think I don’t want to? That I’m just… what, ashamed of you?”

“I don’t know what tae think,” Johnny admitted. “An’ that’s the fuckin' problem.”

Simon looked like he’d been slapped. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Simon said, quieter, “It’s not you I’m ashamed of.”

Johnny's expression softened, confused. “…Then what?”

Simon swallowed hard, and he took a step back. He was retreating and Johnny could see it.

“Fuck’s sake, Si! I’m not gonna bite ye, just talk tae me!”

Simon’s breath stuttered. “When you love someone out loud, the world notices. And the world takes notice of the things it wants to break.

Johnny blinked.

Simon looked down. “I spent so long learning how to protect the things I love by not showing them. By never giving anyone a clear target.” He let out a breath. “And I know that’s not fair to you.”

There was a long, aching pause.

Then Johnny stepped forward, slower this time. “I don’t need the world tae know everythin’.” His voice was gentler now, but still thick. “But I need ye tae know that ye don’t 'ave tae hide wi’ me. Ye never 'ave.”

Simon’s hand twitched at his side.

Johnny caught it. Held it. “Next time I call ye mine, can ye try not tae flinch like it’s dangerous?”

Simon looked at him. Then, quietly: “Yeah.”

Johnny nodded. “Okay.”

They didn’t say sorry. But Johnny tugged Si in by the hand, and Si went, tucking his face into Johnny's shoulder with a breath that shook as it left him.

“Still not sayin’ it first, though,” Si murmured, voice muffled.

“You will,” Johnny whispered back. “Eventually.”

And something something something we move to the bedroom <- actual notes

Their bedroom was dim, the bedside lamp casting a soft, warm glow across the sheets. Johnny had already kicked off his jeans and tossed on an old shirt that was loose around the neck. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair, still a bit wound up.

Simon came in slower. Just in sweatpants and a black tee. He paused in the doorway for a beat, watching him.

Johnny didn’t turn. “Ye don’t 'ave tae—”

Simon walked over, grabbed him by the waist, and hauled him backward onto the bed like he weighed nothing. Johnny yelped, twisting in surprise, but Simon was already crawling in after him, one long arm pinning him to the mattress.

“The fuck—” Johnny squirmed under the weight, laughing now. “Get off me, ya bloody lug—”

“No,” Simon said simply, settling in. “You said I don’t have to hide with you. So I’m not. This is me. Not hiding.”

Johnny blinked up at him. Then snorted. “So your grand gesture is smotherin’ me tae death?”

Simon grinned, barely there, but real, and kissed Johnny’s cheek. Then his jaw. Then the tip of his nose.

“Stop it.” Johnny squirmed, still smiling. “You’re bein’ daft."

“Correct.” Another kiss, to his brow this time. “You were right earlier.”

Johnny stilled.

Simon didn’t stop kissing. “You were right. I dodge. And it hurts you. And I hate that it does. So I’m gonna make sure it doesn’t. Even if I have to kiss every square inch of your dumb face to prove it.”

“Christ,” Johnny muttered, ears going pink. “Ye sound like a bloody rom-com.”

Simon nuzzled into his neck, voice low. “I’m wounded.”

Johnny laughed again, looser now. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“Aye, I do.” Johnny finally let himself relax, curling under the weight of Simon’s body. “Even if yer crushin’ me.”

Simon made a content sound and settled more heavily on him, half-wrapped around Johnny like a blanket. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until you believe me.”

“…I believe ye.”

Simon paused. Then kissed his temple, just once. “Good."

They lay there for a while like that, tangled and warm. Johnny traced lazy circles on Simon’s arm. Simon kissed the side of his head every so often like he couldn’t not.

Eventually, Johnny mumbled, “Ye know… you still didn’t say it.”

Simon didn’t answer right away. Just pressed his lips to Johnny’s throat and whispered:

“I love you, Johnny.”

And Johnny fuckin beamed. "Aye. I love you, Si."

Thanks for reading. Goodnight <3