This is deranged of me but my favorite thing about the blind date verse is knowing that the average COD gamebro would be screaming crying throwing up at the idea of Price becoming absolutely whipped by a single mom. And it brings me great joy. All single moms deserve to get their backs blown out by captains of specialized task forces because I said so.
Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.
Words: 3.6k
A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.
“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.
Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.
You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.
He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.
You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.
“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.
After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.
Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.
The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.
As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.
You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.
Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”
You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration.
Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”
But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.
With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.
You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.
He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.
You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.
“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.
“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.
But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.
Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.
“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”
Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.
Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.
You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.
Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.
As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.
When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”
You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not now,”
Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”
You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.
Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.
As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.
You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.
The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.
And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.
You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.
This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.
Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.
He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.
You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.
After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.
“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”
Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”
Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”
“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.
Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room.
You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.
Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.
Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.
You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.
“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.
It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.
But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.
You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.
Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.
Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.
Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.
Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.
You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.
You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.
You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.
Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.
You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.
You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.
You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.
Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.
“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.
You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.
“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”
Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.
“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.
You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.
“You want to-?”
“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.
He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.
“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.
You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.
You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.
“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”
He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.
The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.
“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.
The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.
Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.
I just happened to see chapter 4. So I thought; not hard to start to read the other 3 chapters first. Now I am hooked. Specially that reader recognize Soap immediately and Ghost not. So can I be tagged so I can follow this story.
This is for my Price girlies— I understand now, I do.
———————————————————————
Price’s kiss is surprisingly soft, for being a captain in the army, for being this fear-mongering man, he kisses you softly. His hands lightly holding onto your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the soft skin.
“My girl.” Price mumbles to you between kisses, pride swelling through his voice. “My sweet lovely girl. S’good for me.”
Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.
Words: 3.6k
A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.
“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.
Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.
You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.
He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.
You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.
“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.
After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.
Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.
The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.
As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.
You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.
Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”
You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration.
Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”
But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.
With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.
You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.
He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.
You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.
“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.
“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.
But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.
Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.
“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”
Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.
Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.
You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.
Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.
As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.
When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”
You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not now,”
Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”
You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.
Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.
As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.
You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.
The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.
And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.
You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.
This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.
Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.
He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.
You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.
After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.
“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”
Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”
Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”
“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.
Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room.
You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.
Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.
Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.
You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.
“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.
It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.
But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.
You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.
Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.
Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.
Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.
Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.
You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.
You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.
You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.
Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.
You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.
You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.
You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.
Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.
“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.
You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.
“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”
Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.
“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.
You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.
“You want to-?”
“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.
He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.
“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.
You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.
You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.
“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”
He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.
The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.
“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.
The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.
Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.
Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.
Words: 3.6k
A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.
“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.
Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.
You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.
He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.
You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.
“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.
After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.
Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.
The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.
As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.
You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.
Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”
You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration.
Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”
But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.
With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.
You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.
He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.
You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.
“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.
“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.
But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.
Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.
“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”
Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.
Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.
You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.
Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.
As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.
When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”
You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not now,”
Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”
You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.
Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.
As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.
You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.
The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.
And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.
You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.
This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.
Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.
He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.
You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.
After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.
“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”
Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”
Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”
“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.
Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room.
You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.
Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.
Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.
You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.
“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.
It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.
But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.
You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.
Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.
Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.
Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.
Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.
You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.
You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.
You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.
Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.
You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.
You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.
You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.
Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.
“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.
You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.
“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”
Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.
“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.
You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.
“You want to-?”
“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.
He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.
“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.
You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.
You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.
“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”
He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.
The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.
“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.
The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.
Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.
Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.
Words: 3.6k
A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.
“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.
Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.
You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.
He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.
You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.
“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.
After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.
Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.
The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.
As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.
You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.
Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”
You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration.
Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”
But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.
With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.
You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.
He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.
You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.
“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.
“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.
But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.
Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.
“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”
Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.
Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.
You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.
Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.
As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.
When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”
You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not now,”
Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”
You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.
Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.
As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.
You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.
The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.
And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.
You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.
This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.
Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.
He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.
You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.
After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.
“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”
Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”
Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”
“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.
Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room.
You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.
Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.
Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.
You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.
“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.
It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.
But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.
You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.
Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.
Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.
Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.
Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.
You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.
You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.
You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.
Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.
You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.
You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.
You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.
Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.
“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.
You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.
“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”
Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.
“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.
You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.
“You want to-?”
“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.
He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.
“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.
You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.
You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.
“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”
He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.
The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.
“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.
The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.
Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.
Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.
Words: 3.6k
A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.
“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.
Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.
You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.
He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.
You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.
“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.
After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.
Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.
The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.
As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.
You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.
Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”
You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration.
Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”
But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.
With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.
You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.
He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.
You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.
“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.
“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.
But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.
Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.
“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”
Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.
Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.
You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.
Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.
As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.
When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”
You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not now,”
Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”
You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.
Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.
As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.
You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.
The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.
And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.
You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.
This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.
Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.
He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.
You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.
After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.
“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”
Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”
Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”
“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.
Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room.
You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.
Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.
Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.
You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.
“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.
It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.
But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.
You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.
Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.
Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.
Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.
Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.
You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.
You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.
You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.
Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.
You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.
You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.
You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.
Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.
“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.
You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.
“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”
Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.
“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.
You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.
“You want to-?”
“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.
He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.
“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.
You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.
You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.
“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”
He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.
The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.
“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.
The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.
Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.
i think everyone who is following the cod fandom at the moment knows what happened to dear inquisitor ghost, an incredible cosplayer who passed away from unfair and cruel causes.
one of his biggest dreams, besides cosplaying his favorite character, was to have his own in his favorite game!
here is a petition to make vincent's dream come true, his work will be recognized forever, he did what he loved rigorously, and he deserves to have his own character.
it's safe, and any amount is welcome! sign if you can 🖤
Summary: When you met him you thought you were the luckiest girl in the world...oh how wrong you were.
Words: 2.1k
A/N: I swear it started so cute...I don't even know what happened.
You got lucky that night, or so you thought.
The sun had just set, and the air was heavy with the smell of wildflowers. You had gone out for a drink with your best friend to get over your recent breakup and had ended up in a bar. It was loud enough to muffle the sound of your sorrows, the low chatter and clinking beer bottles a comforting distraction. You took a sip from your drink, eyes sweeping chaotically until they met Price’s. He sat on a stool at the bar, the light glinting off his brown hair as he laughed at something one of his friends said. His broad shoulders filled out his shirt perfectly, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest at the sight of him. As he turned his head, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.
He made his way over to you, seemingly undeterred by your friend’s warning look. He leaned closer as he spoke, his breath hot against your ear. “I didn’t mean to stare, love— But I couldn’t help it,” he said, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Can I buy you another drink, darlin’?”
The playful rise of his eyebrows suggested that he’d already won this battle.
He was charming, handsome, and had an air of confidence that you found irresistible. Everything he said and did seemed calculated to make you smile. It wasn’t long before you were in your bed, feeling the pleasant weight of his body covering yours.
His body had a strong foundation, a soldier’s physique that was beginning to soften with age. His abdomen carried a layer of flab, but his legs were still toned and muscular from years of military training, his scars a reminder of his bravery and resilience. You traced your fingers over them, feeling the bumpy texture beneath your skin. He hummed contentedly, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he nuzzled into your neck.
“You feel bloody amazing, darlin’,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy on your neck. You shivered in response, your body arching up to meet his. His hands roamed over your body, mapping out every curve and dip as he explored you. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you moan softly.
Price grinned at your reaction, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours. You tasted the faint tang of whiskey on his breath, which only added to your arousal. He pulled away from the kiss, trailing his lips down your throat and over your breasts. Every nerve ending sang out in welcome as he nibbled and licked his way across your ribs. At last, he paused at your breast, blowing gently on one nipple before giving it a quick flick with his tongue. You moaned when he took it between his teeth, gently grazing your flesh while squeezing your other breast in the opposite hand.
His laugh was deep and throaty. It echoed deeply through your chest; the vibrations warm like heated skin as you begged for more. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, darling?” he said, his voice filled with admiration and lust. “Let’s see how long this can last.”
His hands were firm and unrelenting, and his mouth was even more insatiable, sucking and nibbling on every part of your body. He left not a single inch untouched.
He brought you to the brink of orgasm, only to leave you hanging as he shifted his attention somewhere else. He seemed to know exactly what you wanted; it wasn’t long before you were clawing at his shoulders, begging for more. His tongue flicked across your clit, tracing delicious swirls of shivery sensations up to your belly button. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open as he artfully explored you.
The only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of his tongue. Everything else faded away as you were submerged in pleasure.
“That’s it, love, moan for me.” He murmured. His tongue dipped inside you, feeling the tight walls of your pussy as he licked you. His hands pinched your nipples, the sharp pain making you arch your back even higher. He pinched harder, and you heard the muffled smack of his lips as he continued to lick you. His beard scratched against your thighs as he licked and sucked and nibbled on you, every little sensation amplified by your growing orgasm.
“Please...” you begged, your voice soft and low. His touch was relentless, pausing only when he sensed that you were about to come. He pulled away from you, and you nearly cried out in frustration.
His gaze hungrily devoured your shape with each passing second, and a smouldering heat burned in his chest as he observed you. His eyes roamed from head to toe, leaving a blush that crept up your skin like fire.
“so fukin’ beautiful,” His voice was rough, his breathing shallow.
You writhed and twisted, bucking your hips up off the bed. Every lick of his tongue, every sip he took from you sent pleasure rippling through your body, erasing conscious thought and replacing it with primal urges. You were panting and shifting beneath him, desperate for something to bring you over the edge. He was taking his time, his actions precise and practised as he brought you to the highest peak. His hands roamed your naked body; he grabbed your thigh, spreading your legs to slip between them and settle between your thighs. The rough skin on his fingers scratched against your inner thighs and made you shiver in delight.
You found his lips again and entwined your fingers in his hair as you kissed him, tasting the warmth of his tongue. He moaned softly as he reached down to guide himself inside you. You parted your lips in a gasp as he entered you; he was so thick that it almost hurt to take him all at once. You tightened your grip on his hair as you bucked your hips to meet his. You wanted more; you wanted him deeper. He was teasingly slow in the beginning, pushing into you inch-by-inch, savouring each breathy moan that escaped your parted lips. You could feel him twitch inside you with every gasp of pleasure shuddered through your frame. Though as soon as your inner walls started to tighten around him, he would either slow down or come to an abrupt halt, whispering “Not yet” against the skin of your neck, his voice low and gruff. You whined in response, squirming beneath him as he held you still. “I’m not done yet.”
He pinned your wrists over your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he started to push deeper into you. “You feel fuckin’amazing, darling,” he said, his laugh full of lust.
It started as a casual thing, but you kept going back for more. Every time you saw each other was like the first time, his gaze piercing your soul. He brought out your desire to please him and made you feel valuable. You found yourself staying up late at night waiting for his calls just to hear his deep voice telling you how beautiful you were. He was so gentle, always there to make you smile. He made you feel safe. Price was the kind of man you needed to keep you grounded when the world was too much and the only guy you had ever loved.
He loved to take you away for spontaneous escapades, exploring remote natural beauty. But on days when that was impossible, the two of you have settled into a routine of languid lovemaking on the lumpy old couch in your cramped apartment. As you watched TV, He would slip his fingers down your body, between your thighs. You would let out a soft sigh as he teased you, brushing his fingers against your sensitive clit. You would twitch and shift as warmth spread through your abdomen. He would slowly start to play with you, finger you as you curled up into his chest.
“You feelin’ alright, darlin'?” He asked quietly, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
“Mhm.” you hummed, pressing closer to him.
“Do you wanna cum?”
“Mhmm.”
“Good girl.” For some reason, hearing him say that sent a rush of pleasure through your body, making you clench around him.
“Shh… Just enjoy it,” he cooed, toying with you.
You loved watching him as he pleasured you, his eyes heavy as he focused on thrusting his fingers in and out of you.
You always made sure to be good for him, to be as loud and vocal as you could. The more you wanted him, the louder he would growl in response. He loved it when you begged for him. He loved it even more when you sang his name. Then he would lean down to kiss you. You would feel his beard tickle your neck as you moaned into his mouth, clinging to him. He would smile when you came, his lips stretched across his teeth, his eyes closed, and his eyebrows raised. He would whisper “good girl” again as he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean.
After a while, your eyes would drift closed, your smooth legs rubbing up against his hairier ones and his heartbeat against your cheek. His low voice was like a soothing lullaby, whispering reassurances of how much you meant to him, helping you relax and drift off.
Even if not exceptional, those moments were so intimate to you that he made you feel like the only woman in the world. It would get cold in your tiny house, and he would slide closer to you, wrapping his big, warm body around you and protecting you from the cold. He could make you feel so safe, so happy.
You belonged to him.
Your life felt complete when you were by his side.
As the months moved on, the leaves had just begun to change colour, ushering in the chill of autumn. The weather turned colder, and you resumed your job teaching at the kindergarten. It was a Monday afternoon, and you were sitting at your classroom desk, dressed in a red cardigan and skirt despite the chill in the air. It was raining outside, and the window gave you a glimpse of the cold grey clouds and the torrential rain. You looked around the bright room, walls painted in bright colours with an exuberant richness characteristic of the kindergarten. Your hands were in constant motion - twirling a black pen with a silver tip between your fingers and tapping it against the yellowed pages of your notebook. The cool plastic felt reassuring as you anxiously waited for Liam’s parents to show up. He was one of your new students; he had bright green eyes and a contagious laugh that always made you smile. You were glad to have him in the classroom, where his happy presence seemed to fill the whole room. The red numbers on the clock seemed to move with a heavy reluctance, ticking along in agonisingly slow minutes.
Every passing moment was punctuated by the sound of your shifting body against the cool metal chair until, finally, two hours later, you heard heavy boots echoing down the hallway, followed by a woman’s heels against the linoleum. There was a hushed argument in the hallway; you could hear them arguing but couldn’t make out their words.
The door opened slowly, and a slim, graceful woman stepped through. She wore an artfully tailored black silk blouse that clung to her curves and a pencil skirt with bold lines that showed off her slender figure. Her every movement was delicate yet stylish, like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the woman said. “I apologise for the delay, but a few urgent matters came up at the last minute. I’m Tina.” Her voice was smooth and polished.
You smiled and shook her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Her husband’s tall and sturdy figure entered the room, his broad chest straining against the green shirt he wore. He had on a set of camouflage fatigues and dog tags dangling from his neck.
Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly composed himself.
“This is my husband, Liam’s father.” She paused for a moment and smiled slightly. “John, John Price.”
Summary: When you met him you thought you were the luckiest girl in the world...oh how wrong you were.
Words: 2.1k
A/N: I swear it started so cute...I don't even know what happened.
You got lucky that night, or so you thought.
The sun had just set, and the air was heavy with the smell of wildflowers. You had gone out for a drink with your best friend to get over your recent breakup and had ended up in a bar. It was loud enough to muffle the sound of your sorrows, the low chatter and clinking beer bottles a comforting distraction. You took a sip from your drink, eyes sweeping chaotically until they met Price’s. He sat on a stool at the bar, the light glinting off his brown hair as he laughed at something one of his friends said. His broad shoulders filled out his shirt perfectly, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest at the sight of him. As he turned his head, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.
He made his way over to you, seemingly undeterred by your friend’s warning look. He leaned closer as he spoke, his breath hot against your ear. “I didn’t mean to stare, love— But I couldn’t help it,” he said, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Can I buy you another drink, darlin’?”
The playful rise of his eyebrows suggested that he’d already won this battle.
He was charming, handsome, and had an air of confidence that you found irresistible. Everything he said and did seemed calculated to make you smile. It wasn’t long before you were in your bed, feeling the pleasant weight of his body covering yours.
His body had a strong foundation, a soldier’s physique that was beginning to soften with age. His abdomen carried a layer of flab, but his legs were still toned and muscular from years of military training, his scars a reminder of his bravery and resilience. You traced your fingers over them, feeling the bumpy texture beneath your skin. He hummed contentedly, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he nuzzled into your neck.
“You feel bloody amazing, darlin’,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy on your neck. You shivered in response, your body arching up to meet his. His hands roamed over your body, mapping out every curve and dip as he explored you. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you moan softly.
Price grinned at your reaction, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours. You tasted the faint tang of whiskey on his breath, which only added to your arousal. He pulled away from the kiss, trailing his lips down your throat and over your breasts. Every nerve ending sang out in welcome as he nibbled and licked his way across your ribs. At last, he paused at your breast, blowing gently on one nipple before giving it a quick flick with his tongue. You moaned when he took it between his teeth, gently grazing your flesh while squeezing your other breast in the opposite hand.
His laugh was deep and throaty. It echoed deeply through your chest; the vibrations warm like heated skin as you begged for more. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, darling?” he said, his voice filled with admiration and lust. “Let’s see how long this can last.”
His hands were firm and unrelenting, and his mouth was even more insatiable, sucking and nibbling on every part of your body. He left not a single inch untouched.
He brought you to the brink of orgasm, only to leave you hanging as he shifted his attention somewhere else. He seemed to know exactly what you wanted; it wasn’t long before you were clawing at his shoulders, begging for more. His tongue flicked across your clit, tracing delicious swirls of shivery sensations up to your belly button. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open as he artfully explored you.
The only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of his tongue. Everything else faded away as you were submerged in pleasure.
“That’s it, love, moan for me.” He murmured. His tongue dipped inside you, feeling the tight walls of your pussy as he licked you. His hands pinched your nipples, the sharp pain making you arch your back even higher. He pinched harder, and you heard the muffled smack of his lips as he continued to lick you. His beard scratched against your thighs as he licked and sucked and nibbled on you, every little sensation amplified by your growing orgasm.
“Please...” you begged, your voice soft and low. His touch was relentless, pausing only when he sensed that you were about to come. He pulled away from you, and you nearly cried out in frustration.
His gaze hungrily devoured your shape with each passing second, and a smouldering heat burned in his chest as he observed you. His eyes roamed from head to toe, leaving a blush that crept up your skin like fire.
“so fukin’ beautiful,” His voice was rough, his breathing shallow.
You writhed and twisted, bucking your hips up off the bed. Every lick of his tongue, every sip he took from you sent pleasure rippling through your body, erasing conscious thought and replacing it with primal urges. You were panting and shifting beneath him, desperate for something to bring you over the edge. He was taking his time, his actions precise and practised as he brought you to the highest peak. His hands roamed your naked body; he grabbed your thigh, spreading your legs to slip between them and settle between your thighs. The rough skin on his fingers scratched against your inner thighs and made you shiver in delight.
You found his lips again and entwined your fingers in his hair as you kissed him, tasting the warmth of his tongue. He moaned softly as he reached down to guide himself inside you. You parted your lips in a gasp as he entered you; he was so thick that it almost hurt to take him all at once. You tightened your grip on his hair as you bucked your hips to meet his. You wanted more; you wanted him deeper. He was teasingly slow in the beginning, pushing into you inch-by-inch, savouring each breathy moan that escaped your parted lips. You could feel him twitch inside you with every gasp of pleasure shuddered through your frame. Though as soon as your inner walls started to tighten around him, he would either slow down or come to an abrupt halt, whispering “Not yet” against the skin of your neck, his voice low and gruff. You whined in response, squirming beneath him as he held you still. “I’m not done yet.”
He pinned your wrists over your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he started to push deeper into you. “You feel fuckin’amazing, darling,” he said, his laugh full of lust.
It started as a casual thing, but you kept going back for more. Every time you saw each other was like the first time, his gaze piercing your soul. He brought out your desire to please him and made you feel valuable. You found yourself staying up late at night waiting for his calls just to hear his deep voice telling you how beautiful you were. He was so gentle, always there to make you smile. He made you feel safe. Price was the kind of man you needed to keep you grounded when the world was too much and the only guy you had ever loved.
He loved to take you away for spontaneous escapades, exploring remote natural beauty. But on days when that was impossible, the two of you have settled into a routine of languid lovemaking on the lumpy old couch in your cramped apartment. As you watched TV, He would slip his fingers down your body, between your thighs. You would let out a soft sigh as he teased you, brushing his fingers against your sensitive clit. You would twitch and shift as warmth spread through your abdomen. He would slowly start to play with you, finger you as you curled up into his chest.
“You feelin’ alright, darlin'?” He asked quietly, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
“Mhm.” you hummed, pressing closer to him.
“Do you wanna cum?”
“Mhmm.”
“Good girl.” For some reason, hearing him say that sent a rush of pleasure through your body, making you clench around him.
“Shh… Just enjoy it,” he cooed, toying with you.
You loved watching him as he pleasured you, his eyes heavy as he focused on thrusting his fingers in and out of you.
You always made sure to be good for him, to be as loud and vocal as you could. The more you wanted him, the louder he would growl in response. He loved it when you begged for him. He loved it even more when you sang his name. Then he would lean down to kiss you. You would feel his beard tickle your neck as you moaned into his mouth, clinging to him. He would smile when you came, his lips stretched across his teeth, his eyes closed, and his eyebrows raised. He would whisper “good girl” again as he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean.
After a while, your eyes would drift closed, your smooth legs rubbing up against his hairier ones and his heartbeat against your cheek. His low voice was like a soothing lullaby, whispering reassurances of how much you meant to him, helping you relax and drift off.
Even if not exceptional, those moments were so intimate to you that he made you feel like the only woman in the world. It would get cold in your tiny house, and he would slide closer to you, wrapping his big, warm body around you and protecting you from the cold. He could make you feel so safe, so happy.
You belonged to him.
Your life felt complete when you were by his side.
As the months moved on, the leaves had just begun to change colour, ushering in the chill of autumn. The weather turned colder, and you resumed your job teaching at the kindergarten. It was a Monday afternoon, and you were sitting at your classroom desk, dressed in a red cardigan and skirt despite the chill in the air. It was raining outside, and the window gave you a glimpse of the cold grey clouds and the torrential rain. You looked around the bright room, walls painted in bright colours with an exuberant richness characteristic of the kindergarten. Your hands were in constant motion - twirling a black pen with a silver tip between your fingers and tapping it against the yellowed pages of your notebook. The cool plastic felt reassuring as you anxiously waited for Liam’s parents to show up. He was one of your new students; he had bright green eyes and a contagious laugh that always made you smile. You were glad to have him in the classroom, where his happy presence seemed to fill the whole room. The red numbers on the clock seemed to move with a heavy reluctance, ticking along in agonisingly slow minutes.
Every passing moment was punctuated by the sound of your shifting body against the cool metal chair until, finally, two hours later, you heard heavy boots echoing down the hallway, followed by a woman’s heels against the linoleum. There was a hushed argument in the hallway; you could hear them arguing but couldn’t make out their words.
The door opened slowly, and a slim, graceful woman stepped through. She wore an artfully tailored black silk blouse that clung to her curves and a pencil skirt with bold lines that showed off her slender figure. Her every movement was delicate yet stylish, like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the woman said. “I apologise for the delay, but a few urgent matters came up at the last minute. I’m Tina.” Her voice was smooth and polished.
You smiled and shook her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Her husband’s tall and sturdy figure entered the room, his broad chest straining against the green shirt he wore. He had on a set of camouflage fatigues and dog tags dangling from his neck.
Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly composed himself.
“This is my husband, Liam’s father.” She paused for a moment and smiled slightly. “John, John Price.”
snowghoul
titsay
yousharknotpass
