• •
  You’re drunk as hell and walking home at night, you keep on tripping on yourself and almost landing on your face, almost. That’s something right?*

“Just…got to.. make it.. home..”

You slur tiredly.

Then, you hear the sound of a bike revving to a stop behind you. You turn around to see Simon on his bike, taking off his helmet to reveal his messy hair and brown eyes meeting yours.

“Get on.”

He demands. His Manchester accent coming in strong.

You scoff as you struggle to keep your eyes open and point at him.

“You don’t tell me-“

You slur. But he suddenly cuts you off.

“You’re pointing at a tree.”

He says facepalming. Oh shit.

He grabs your hand and points it to his muscular chest, he tilts his head in amusement.

“That’s better. Now what were you saying?”

He says calmly with a smirk on his face.

“Oh uhm.. Doesn’t it seem like this place is.. spinning a bit..?”

Your voice fades as you lose balance and fall.

“Shit, you idiot.”

He mutters before catching you quickly as your head slams against his hard chest.

“Ow.”

You whisper as you lean against him, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Im sorry, Princess. You’re okay.”

That was the last thing you hear as you black out in his arms.

The next time you wake up, it’s morning. You wake up in a cozy bed in an unfamiliar room. Looks like a lieutenant military room, with a terrible headache.