Sexiest Man Alive 2023

Simon never heard his father say sorry, or please, or thank-you, or I love you.

In their house, when his mama would put down hot, heavy casseroles, her skin damp with sweat, eyes darting for some sweet words, his father never said one word of thanks, let alone 'some'. Only waved his thick, impatient hand.

His father never took the plates to the sink. Never noticed when she stayed up at night to sort the screws by size and purpose—organizing the chaos he left behind just to find one damn hammer.

His father never said ‘please can you—’ only grunted with that bitter mouth, glared with those unkind eyes when he needed something.

Simon never heard him say I love you. And he couldn’t believe his eyes the day his father plucked out his baby brother from his mama's arm, and didn’t spare one glance for his Ma. She didn't deserved that, did she? Her weak frail body, cracked murmuring lips — she should be celebrated with adoration, comfort, love.

Love, and an infinite of it.

His father never sat beside her just to drink tea. Never told her about his day. Never asked about hers — what she did, or liked, or wanted. Never reached out his thumb, however calloused it was, to wipe away the sprout on her chin. That he was grateful she's next to him, that he loved her.

So when life happened, and Simon was left to pick up his pieces and place them in a way he wanted to be—he thought whomever he will be, anything, but his father.

Anything but him.

And then life happened again but this time it arranged itself in beautiful ways. Because you came with it this time. You and all your silly lovely ways, you who kissed your knee before resting your chin, you who cheered up catching up with fridge' light switching off, you so beautiful, so kind, made up of sundust. His sunshine — lighting up his world.

And God, he was so, so grateful. Every moment, every day !

“I love you,” he’d say the moment he wakes up next to you. Pressing his love on your lips, on your shoulder, on your neck.

“I love you,” when you spill milk in the morning daze and stare at it like it might disappear.

“I love you,” when he wipes your chin and kisses your forehead.

“I love you,” when he takes your hand in his and rubs it between his palm, why ? Because he'll spend his whole life keeping your hands warm than anything else.

“I love you.” because he loves, loves, and loves you so much that it hurts, so much that it heals, so much that it's everything sweet ever happened to him.

“I love you.” for all the ways his father failed, and Simon too, as a son, as a brother — failed to save his mama and lil' brother. I love you, because in loving you he is allowing himself to be loved.

Masterlist

Joe Bowler's 'painting study'

Simon who never hesitates to call or message you whenever he's out with the 141

Simon who would admire you from afar whenever your busy doing smth

Simon who would squeeze you into embrace whenever he comes home as if theres no tomorrow

and the very same Simon you plan your happy ending with.

these photos made me develop a seventh sense and now I can tell angels from people

i made a generator for yall to see what ur genders are

It's so crazy to me when people write John Price as old and incapable of understanding technology because this man is literally in the special forces. I think not knowing how technology works would be a huge hindrance to his career lol. I live near a military base and have met a few service members who are Price's age or older and they are usually better with technology than I am lol. But yet I'll still see people writing in fics that Price likely needs help to send texts because he doesn't understand it.

For real. He's probably super savvy with tech. I mean all that gear they use, night vision, heat vision and all sorts of things.

I think it must come from young writers, when you're like 18-20 someone almost 40 is "old".

I'm in no way trying to dissuade people from writing for him or him being the older man in the x reader story, I just find it a bit frustrating and unrealistic that people write someone his age as some bumbling idiot with technology and other modern parts of life.

Can someone pls give me a lost of more cod angst or fluff IM SO SO SO SO TIRED OF SMUT ON MY FEED

The Ocean

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

The girl The bar The residents

I still can't believe how many cishet men are fumbling the bag with this Call of Duty thing.

You have tons of women suddenly interested in the thing YOU are interested in, and instead of bonding over shared interests, you choose to gatekeep and be a misogynist.

Just buy a skull mask you fucking dingus

John Price and his Sleepy Wife

AO3

You had always been a sleepy person. Dozing off on John’s lap in the car, nuzzling quietly into his side during films, and just enjoying sleeping on him in general.

But just imagine John telling some story about his glory days as he liked to to the rest of the squad, and he’s just rambling on as you sit next to him on the couch, but you’re half asleep. So he’ll talk a bit — adjust his sleepy wife who’s drooping off of his shoulder — and then continue like nothing happened.

But then it would happen again. And again. And again. You sliding down, boneless, eyelids fluttering weakly, snuggled into John like he was your own personal furnace. And none of the boys would say anything (apart from Soap’s quiet laughs), because it happened every time, and they knew the drill — keep a close eye on you to ensure you didn’t fall to the ground, but not close enough to make you feel uncomfortable or to annoy Price, because as much as he trusted them you were still his wife.

“Infiltration wasn’t—“ A pause for him to give up repositioning you and just pull you onto his lap, eliciting a quiet but content sigh from you as you buried your face into his chest “—that much of a challenge, but you forget that there were about a hundred men, yeah? So…”

Meanwhile, having already heard all his stories a hundred times over, you had progressed from half-asleep to out cold, and by the time it got late enough m for everyone to start heading to bed, Price had to carry you bridal-style to your shared bedroom. Not that he was complaining. The missus always got her every want and need provided for, always. Especially when it involved her using him as her pillow.