#exhusband!johnprice

[villainofmyownstory]

Blurry

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pairing: exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory , ambiguous/open ending

1.6 k words

author's note: Once I wrote some random thoughts about our gorgeous captain. Today I've put it all together. Comments welcome, let me know if it's worth writing another part, because I don't know what to think. I guess I like sad stories…. and can't get the ex-husband plot out of my mind. Sorry not sorry <3

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The clock ticked quietly somewhere in the distance, deep in the corridor, steadily, rhythmically. The water in the kitchen tap dripped, quietly reminding you that you need to change the gasket but also to fix some other things in the flat. Even though you moved here a few months ago, you still don't feel at home. You feel uncomfortable. Like a guest in a hotel. All the objects seemed foreign, belonging to someone else. Or maybe nobody's. Everything has been renovated, painted, bought and new. Just for you.

Cat curled up in a ball, lies next to you on a small red sofa. And in front of you on a small, vintage coffee table steams warm coffee. Another one that day. The only meal for many weeks. You rub your eyes, even though no more tears have appeared in them for days. It still burns you and you feel this tingling under your eyelids. Something like fine sand, irritating your eyeballs and hurting the soft delicate flesh of your eyelids. You try to take it in stride. On days like these, weekends, holidays, when you are left alone in a small flat. You fall apart into millions of pieces. Alone. The pain under your ribs, the pressure in your sternum, your throat squeezed like in a vice. Memories haunt you at every step. A constant battle with the past, something you beg for every sleepless night to finally go away. To be finally erased. You should burn the photos, throw away the gifts. Bury the past at last. To move on. After all, this is what you wanted. A lot of time fighting, trying. Days of sweat shed, of anger, of trying again and again. And in the end, powerlessness.

Sunk in your thoughts, you stare, with heavy eyelids, at the empty space under the TV. Once, in another warm home, the shelf was filled with DVDs of one's favourite films. Classic.

A familiar sound interrupts your gloomy rush of thoughts. Looking at the phone screen, you smile slightly. Your boys have been calling every day. ‘Hi Johnny’ You say with a grunt, trying to chase away the sad thoughts, not letting him know that you are tormenting yourself with the past again.

You should not agree. The paperwork you signed, and the arrangements in the documents, were approved, many months ago. That was not the deal. This is not how you discussed the contract. This is not why you are sitting here now. Yet, you can't say no to them. Not after all they've given up their lives, made sacrifices and…

Sitting in an old rusty cheap car. In your familiar driveway, in this new, friendly neighbourhood. You hesitate to get out. Your hands are sweaty, in a firm grip on the worn-out steering wheel. So you give yourself a few minutes to calm down. You never wanted to show them, him, that you were continuing to suffer badly. That you haven't really moved on.

You have to be tough.

As the door finally slams shut behind you with a quiet click, the same scent reaches your nostrils once again. Earthy and heavy from the cigars and the cherry wood burning in the fireplace, a slightly sweet smoke with a subtle fruity aftertaste, with a slight bitter note. A scent so familiar, so close. But it's not your scent. The resignation has been signed. The decision had been made. There was no going back. Johnny stands in front of you looking at you apologetically. ‘Sure I understand. Duty calls.’ You say gently squeezing his shoulder in a gesture of understanding. Or maybe you want to convince yourself that you're not angry. There's no problem. Some kind of confirmation that it's not their fault you have to be here again. That you are standing in this big modern house, from a dream project . In the place that was supposed to be your home.

Of course boys hired 24/7 nursing. But also they themselves, his squad soldiers, alternated days and nights here. They practically lived here. So if the medical caretaker went for a few days' holiday and the three men had to go on a sudden urgent mission for a few days. It was your job to be here and help. You couldn't let them down. You could not say no. You could not answer the phone. Pretend it doesn't concern you. You had to be here. You had to be strong. For him.

When you are finally left alone in the hallway and the big car disappears around the corner. You feel that hole in your heart, opening up again. Those missing pieces to fill it. They are just behind a thin, wall. A couple of steps. A few seconds.

When you finally stand in the large room, as usual, dark curtains hang from the ceiling to the floor, covering the terraced windows. The semi-darkness of the room has always accompanied him when he watches movies. You stare at his profile illuminated by artificial television light. Despite the years spent in the army, the many litres of blood shed, the many scars on his body. He continued to watch the same films. War movies, classics. The screams and gunshots accompanied him since he opened his eyes and when he closed them. It was already burned into his mind. Written into his gut. It's just a shame that this one fucking wound, made him forget. He forgot about you. ‘Hi.’ You say uncertainly standing in the corner of the couch. You can't look at him.

You don't want to see the ocean blue of his irises, the wrinkles around his eyes. The slightly grey hair. The little freckle on his nose. The fidgety trimmed beard - which his boys were now taking care of. ‘Oh, mornin’ ‘ His voice seems even deeper to you, slightly hoarse. Perhaps already stranger. ‘How are you feeling today. Captain?’ You spit out the last word like a poisonous snake. You want to say something completely different. To shout what you said to him every night. Every morning intertwined when you were here, together. Alone. ‘You don't have to be so official, ma'am. I'm out of the army.’ John is gallant as ever. It's the same every damn time. Ma'am, lady. Miss. He's never said your name since that day. Forgotten. That hole in your heart, never to be filled by his pieces again.

The conversation goes on as usual, John again thinking you are just another medical assistant employed by his former teammates. Brothers in arms. Brothers in war. Brothers in the last of the battles. You want to shout to him how much you hate him, how much you despise him. How much it aches you. How much it hurts you that he doesn't remember anything. A bloody mission. Yet, as usual, you sit and listen once again to the same questions, the stories. As if you've turned on that worst episode of your favourite show again. The last one.

Every time he leaves. During every time he was away. On every such occasion. You were ready for the funeral. The black dress continued to hang in that wardrobe, a few rooms away.

Perhaps it would have been better if it had simply been buried six feet underground. In an oak dark box. Cold and with an equally empty head about you. Maybe it would be easier for you that way. You've already said goodbye to one light casket with his last name on it. Because that hole in your heart was much bigger than the missing fragments of your husband, ex-husband.

For a longer monologue, more memories, of his past work. Of his previous life. What you counted as ‘before’. Because what was ‘after’ was a blur. No matter. John stares at you, finally taking his eyes off the TV. The end credits move lazily across the large TV screen. You smile slightly when your gazes finally meet. He is handsome still. Maybe even more beautiful than you remembered him. It would seem that the man's calm face does not hide his wounded, hollow mind.

Physically he looks maybe even better than during his time in the army. In fact, better than at the time of your marriage. Unwittingly the corners of your mouth gently lift up. Doubtless Simon has been training with him, the hard workouts and the proper diet prepared by the new Captain are yielding great results. A well-deserved successor. A plain red t-shirt lightly framed John's broad, muscular shoulders. Grey casual sweatpants once too loose were now gently stretched around his massive thighs.

You don't have the strength to explain to him once again who you are. So when he once again addresses you as a total stranger you don't react. You wanted so badly to climb on his thighs, to punch him in the chest, maybe even scratch him. To make him feel some kind of pain at least for a moment, that thing you feel non-stop, something to bring you two together again. Feel his heart beat faster, and enter his mind, scratch out every shadowy particle. To brighten and put your memories there. Ours.

Nothing in this house resembles that life anymore. There are no pictures here. There are no flowers. There is no more laughter and joyful banter. No more singing and quiet murmurs of delight. The three of you are gone.

Finally, as you lower your gaze to his hands, which hesitantly stroke the fabric of the armchair. The image is blurred. Finally, tears well up in your eyes. You can no longer see a trace of the ring. No lighter stripe stands out on the slightly tanned skin. There is no faint hollow in the fleshy part of his worked-up ring finger. Although everything is a blur. The gold glistens gently reflecting the soft light of the television. The object that was such an important symbol. A vow. A promise. As if playfully winking at you.

[villainofmyownstory]

Blurry

Part 2

masterlist

part 1 | 1.2 | part 3

pairing: exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory, ambiguous/open ending

2.5k words

author's note: @blackhawkfanatic @who-needs-to-sleep @rafaelacallinybbay because you asked about part 2 <3

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist - let me know.

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Something inside you has broken.

It seems that for a long time, you were pieces that were temporarily glued together.

In the end, pretending was a good thing.

After all, the one who laughs the loudest internally cries the hardest. 

Since those three days, weeks have passed. And somehow you couldn't move on. Maybe you should ask about that ring on his finger that unexpectedly appeared. Or maybe you should forget, finally move on, start living your life as before and never look back.

And of course, the phone rang every day. The boys, as usual, cared about you, not just him. After all, the captain's orders were to take care of you, too.

Even if he said those words so long ago. Before.

Do you think these waters will ever be shallower? That the current of the river, will carry you away and let you swim inertly to another shore? Or will you drown in the mud and your body sink inertly to the bottom. Forgotten. Left until your flesh rots, disintegrates eaten by river creatures.

His warm hands gently hold your waist. Keeping you from falling off the chair. Even though this is November outside it's already exceptionally cold. It even snowed lightly today. However, there was no longer any sign of it now.

You try to concentrate on decorating the tree, but the presence of a man in your flat is slightly overwhelming.

You let him. You accepted it all. Feeling inside, somewhere deep under your ribs, that this is madness. But despite everything, this discomfort, the smile doesn't leave your face.

You look down at him, his hands still holding your hips. Maybe you can stay like this for a while longer. You feel safe. Wanted. Needed. Belonged to someone.

”I'll turn on the lights”

he says finally helping you off the chair. You take a few steps away to get a better view.

Your first Christmas together. Never mind that it's just the two of you. And you don't mind that it's November.

What matters is that someone finally put your broken pieces together.

He was just yours.

In a few days he had to go on a mission. For unknown amount of time.

So this year Christmas came sooner. And you glance at him as he looks at the decorated Christmas tree with pride written on his face. To turn his gaze to you with the same delight.

”Somethin' wrong?”

You don't answer, blushing slightly. No one has ever looked at you like that.

”Nothing”

you mumble embarrassed

”You look nice in that Christmas sweater” you reply and reluctantly glance back at tree.

”Do you like snowmen, dove?”

The phone rings. It rings nonstop. A familiar picture appears on the screen.

That's right, today is Wednesday.

You allow yourself not to answer.

Several times.

Finally, you slide your finger across the screen.

"Everythin’ okay?"

Kyle, as usual without greeting, gets straight to the point

"I've been waiting for an hour and you're not here. Do you want me to come get you?"

Silence.

"Or maybe I should call Simon?"

That will do.

"I'll be there in half an hour."

You sigh, slowly letting the air out, as if you've been holding it in your lungs for the last few minutes. You quickly take the keys and leave the cold apartment.

You let him hold your hand. Maybe it's weakness. Maybe longing. Or maybe selfishness.

When the therapy is over and you're sitting in his car, you see a Tupperware container in the back seat. You know very well what it means.

"Jessica thought you'd be hungry. You know how she is.  She always cooks too much, and Captain won't eat it all himself” Kyle hands you a heavy container and a spoon

"How long?"

You don't dare raise your eyes, heavy eyelids close for a moment. The world starts spinning again. You don't want to hear that she is there again. Why is she there. After all, it was your home too. Never hers.

But of whom you want to make a fool, you know very well the reason.

"Two weeks." Kyle looks through the windshield, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel

"Friday will be three years from-"

"Don't."

You speak quickly and dryly. You don't want to hear it. You know perfectly well that Friday is the anniversary of the accident.

You should be the one standing in the kitchen. It should be you. There.

"Should I drive you back to your apartment? One of the guys will drive the car back later."

You don't answer, your eyelids are heavy. It's as if they've stuck together and don't want to give you even a hint of light. Any comfort of a still bright day.

Drowning. To sink into the darkness. In an abyss of pain. Rot and suffer. This is your destiny. Forgotten.

"Hey, do you want to talk? Maybe someone should stay with you for the next few days?"

Kyle looks at you, sees your gray, tired face. The dark circles under your eyes. Hair that hasn't been cared for by a stylist in years. Fallen cheeks and chapped lips. Someone else is sitting in that car. It's not you anymore.

When you finally get back to your place, you toss the food container into the trash can and, still in your coat and shoes, lie down on the couch, in the living room. You stare dully at the blank wall, hoping that maybe sleep will come now.

It was better with you before, you were already walking on that straight path. Without stumbling, colors appeared on the sides. The sun was rising more and more for you. But again, a shadow that hid somewhere behind you covered your silhouette. Leaning heavily on your shoulders.

Late in the afternoon, when night slowly replaced day, and red and pink colours dance on the walls in the room, you finally fall asleep.

And again, a nightmare comes. You wish you could wake up and stay awake, stare at the ceiling and not have to relive it all over again. Maybe insomnia was some kind of cure for you. An escape.

And here you are in this place. Another broken promise. Once again you are doing something against yourself. You're sitting in the guest room on fresh evenly laid sheets.

In his home.

But when the phone rang in the middle of the night and on the other end you heard from, none other than Ghost (not to be confused with Simon, at that moment he is speaking to you as a soldier, the Captain). So it wasn't even a request. Just a command. Since John's memory had improved considerably since your last visit, along with the doctors, Ghost decided that you would stay with him this time for longer. Due to the fact that Johnny was injured and needed time to rest. Ghost and Gaz went on missions together. This time, to your misfortune, for a few weeks. And Jessica with kids couldn't stay for longer. Everyone had their own responsibilities. So you were chosen. The last option.

When you arrived, John wasn't there yet, he was going to rehab on Thursdays. So you got a few more hours of freedom before he returned. However, something paralyzed you to leave the room. The suitcase stood next to the bed, still unpacked.

The smell in the house, despite such a long time and so many different people who came in every now and then, remained the same. Cigars and burning wood from the fireplace.

Overwhelming. Now suffocating.

And those damn beige walls. Boring, nauseating. But eventually, it had to be repainted, three years ago these four walls witnessed your darkest moments in life.

Maybe it's better to sleep downstairs in the living room.

When John returns and enters the house, everything happens as if you were a different person - a spectator sitting in the front row, watching with bated breath the scene being played out. A scene from the movie called your life.

John puts his keys down on the dresser in the hallway, walks into the living room looks at the already made-up couch and turns in your direction with surprise. And you stand still with a wooden spoon in your hand, not even blinking.

"Oh there you are darling. Are we supposed to have guests tonight?"

You answer absolutely nothing, still standing motionless at the kitchen island, dismayed to see him slowly walk towards you.

And as if nothing ever happened, he grabs you lightly, squeezing your hip, and leans down to kiss your forehead. The kiss seems to last an eternity. It's almost like he's been kissed you for the first time.

He always did that when he came back to you.

But that was then. It was never - after.

"Somethin' wrong?"

He moves away from you and smiles gently, tilting his head, waiting for an answer.

You finally gain some strength in yourself and despite the unreality of the whole situation, which seems as if your brain is playing with you and replaying a scene from the past.

You finally nod slowly, in denial.

"I'll change and help you, I'm exhausted after today's new exercises. But I'm pretty flexible considering my age."

Saying this he smiles wider.

"And how was your day, at work?"

The wooden spoon fell to the countertop with a bang. Echoing in the room.

Mumbling apologetic words, you quickly evade him. You say something about a forgotten business, about making an urgent phone call.

You don't know who to call. Your hands are shaking and wet with sweat. ''It didn't happen.'' you mumble to yourself. Someone who was in charge of your life was a fucking prankster . Every time it seemed like nothing was going to happen, a new unknown and unannounced thing popped up from around the corner. A bloody joke.

Finally deciding to call Johnny, even though he was recently injured and supposed to be resting, you had to hear someone's familiar voice. Something that confirms that you have your feet on the ground. Something that makes you reassure yourself that you're not crazy.

After two signals he picks up and when he hears your frightened voice when you tell him about the situation from a moment ago.  Johnny will be here in two hours.

It's nothing that the wound on his thigh hasn't healed yet. Because if his Captain has finally regained his memory. He would, even if he had to walk 1,000 miles barefoot. He would do it without hesitation.

Just to have him back.

So you had to face John somehow, waiting for those two hours. And that seemed to be no easy thing to do. Because you no longer knew what awaited you on the other side of the beige bedroom. Who was the man who just a few weeks ago, every time he saw you, didn't recognize you and asked the same questions.

Was this the old, kindest John, the one you fell in love with many years ago.Was it even still possible, or was what you heard a few minutes ago some kind of error in his hollow, broken memory.

And again, the same scenery. How many times will it all be the same almost so familiar, and in truth so distant and foreign.

John's already dressed in more comfortable clothes, a plain plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and comfortable old, slightly rubbed jeans.

You stand in the threshold of the kitchen nervously clutching the phone, holding it as if it were some sort of lifeline, a connection to something that will save you. Well, from what, exactly? From a man who acts as if the last years, that tragedy never happened, and your marriage continued uninterrupted. Happily.

"Why don't we eat on the terrace? It's a really nice afternoon today."

John is standing at the countertop, his back turned to you cheerfully humming tunes known only to himself.

And you, you stand praying that by some miracle Johnny will get here sooner.

Despite your fatigue after a day's work, you cheerfully bustle around the kitchen, preparing a late supper. John was supposed to come back today, even though it had only been a week. The longing for him was great. Especially since just 3 weeks ago you had written in the documents, different name. Now, you proudly looked at your finger many times a day, seeing no longer an engagement ring. But something much more important.

A gold wedding ring.

Mrs. Price.

Not only was his return a cause for celebration, there was something else.

Once dinner is ready, the table is a bit over-decorated. The room, and practically the whole house, is illuminated only by the candles that have been set up. You stand nervously in the kitchen in your hands holding a small gift bag.

The dress is rather too elegant, as well. But you want this moment to be special, unique. Unforgettable.

Finally, this long-listened-for sound is interrupted by the only oddity you hear - the beating of your own heart.

John stands in the threshold with astonishment

"Honey? What's-?"

Slowly you hear his heavy footsteps, and after a moment you see him. A tired face, this time with longer facial stubble than usual. He is still dressed in a dirty tactical uniform. You don't even want to know what he witnessed in his absence.

He walks up to you and, as usual, one hand rests on your hip gently squeezing it and a warm kiss lands on your forehead.

"Some celebration? don't tell me I forgot about some important anniversary."

John looks up at you, despite his fatigue, his eyes shining happily illuminated by the candlelight.

"No, you haven't forgotten anything. It's something else."

Speaking, you grab a colorful bag and hand it to him

"A gift? oh, that means it is some positive occasion for me. For us?"

You smile nervously waiting for him to see what's inside.

Definitely a very positive news.

Time passes slowly. It's as if someone has pressed the slow motion button on the remote control to see the details better.

John, still in a good mood, finishes preparing the meal and finally turns in your direction and looks at you

"White or red?"

You bite your lower lip, feeling a coppery aftertaste in your mouth.

"Why are you doing this, John? Why is this happening again?"

Slowly saying these words, you look at his hands, which he wipes inattentively.

"But, what's the matter? I wanted to help you with dinner, dove. And I asked what kind of wine you wanted to drink. That's all."

With each step he takes toward you, you back away until you hit the wall.

"Tomorrow you will forget everything again, I don't have the strength anymore. I shouldn't have agreed to this. Again."

John stands close, much too close.

"How could I forget my biggest sweetheart? My beautiful wife? There's no way I'll ever forget you."

You finally lift your gaze, and look into his eyes. Hoping to see the same spark he once had, long ago.

However, all you see is emptiness. A faded blue.

And the only thought in your mind is for Johnny to hurry up and rescue you from this nightmare.

[villainofmyownstory]

Blurry

masterlist

exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory , ambiguous/open ending

Golden 1.2 (WIP) Beige Sapphire

[villainofmyownstory]

WIP whenever

I was unexpectedly tagged by the very talented writer @pricegouge to post an updated WIP. Thank you very much! And before you check out these little thing, check out @pricegouge's stories, in particular I recommend Fatted Rabbit - a true masterpiece. <3 Let's just say that the one below is a continuation of Blurry. Unfortunately I've been very busy at work lately and haven't had time to write anything. But hopefully in about two weeks I'll get back to a normal routine and have more free time. I'll tag @ilragnotessitore , @kyletogaz and @hyperactively-me don't feel obliged, no pressure if you don't want to post anything

______________________________________________________________

It is said that falling in love comes easily. That there is such a thing as love at first sight. That soulmates can be met instantly.

Well, your first meeting with John was not what you heard about in stories of friends falling in love. Or in family stories told at your parents' next wedding anniversary.

It was completely different.

When you first met, you didn't seem nice or kind to him at all. But maybe that's what he needed. Maybe he just needed a harsh and rough tone. Maybe also a little rudeness. At that time, everyone felt sorry for him, patted him on the head or walked around him on eggshells.

And you were completely different. Years later, he always said that that spark of anger in your eyes attracted him to you from the very beginning.

Although you found it hard to believe, after all, he was your husband. Well, exactly - he was.

Another day had passed when you were in that house, every morning he asked you the same thing. Moreover, his short-term memory was problematic, but he remembered exactly what his missions were like 20 or 10 years ago.

”But what did you do yesterday Captain?"

“Oh, little dove, how could I forget a doll like you?”

Every day was the same. And you didn't cry about it anymore. Maybe it was better that way. One heart shattered into millions of pieces was enough.

Doctors said not to push, not to remind him of those worst, most difficult moments. That could have made his condition worse.

But he wasn't the same person he used to be.

He wasn't himself.

He wasn't Captain.

And even more than that, he was no longer your John.

He could look better physically, and many doctors, nurses in the hospital, tried to date him. Even the married ones. However, when it came to the story of this accident.

Well. He's stuck with three boys and you.

Despite the pain, you were unable to fully let go. Even though piece by piece you felt your heart being torn into more small, bloody fragments.

However, on the last day, when you are already sitting packed in the living room, waiting for the arrival of the person who will replace you. Someone who will take over the care. His phone rang.

And hearing his cheerful voice, you immediately knew who was calling.

His past. A person with whom he had experienced more seasons than with you. Someone he remembered. And what probably hurt you the most. His previous life came to an end long before. But it always made itself known at the least expected moments. Coming out of a dark corner, biting at ankles, pulling at shirt. Causing dark clouds to appear in your head again.

Because his previous family was still present. Even though he closed that chapter long before you were together, it still bothered you. It made you feel uncomfortable.

Now his laughter echoed in that empty big house, but it wasn't meant for you.

And you lose yourself once again in longing, in the need to be someone again. His.

“Oh, little dove, how could I forget a doll like you?”

And yet, he still didn't remember.

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aaaannd also tag @blackhawkfanatic @who-needs-to-sleep @rafaelacallinybbay bc you ask for part 2 sorry to disappoint you but I need more time, but I'll definitely come back to it someday

[villainofmyownstory]

WIP updated 07/30/24

Day Zero

Simon "Ghost" Riley x plus size fem!Reader

part 8 - 1,5k words written

Three copies and some signatures

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

part 2 - 500 words

Blurry

exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

part 3 - 500 words written

Take Off Your Pants and Jacket

Before enlisting in the army, you and your neighbor get closer. Just before he leaves, you spend the first and probably - the last night. Together.

virgin!Simon Riley x virgin!plus size fem!Reader

🔞 oneshot - 2,5k words written

[villainofmyownstory]

Blurry part 2, pretty please 👀

Hi, hello Dear Anon, unfortunately, I have a busy work schedule lately and don't have time to write. But in about two weeks I should be back to writing. Today I published here, something like a WIP, maybe something between part 1 and part 2 of Blurry. A short little thing. But someday, I'll definitely get back to this story. A little patience, please <3