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[thighsoverlives]

Her Eyes - Simon's POV of "His Eyes"

⋆ relationship ⋆

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!reader

⋆ summary ⋆

A mission gone bad. She lies in his arms dying. He should've done more to protect her.

⋆ notes ⋆

i though making this story into Simon's POV would be pretty cool so here it is! i still have no idea where i want to take the Price fic and i havent even started it yet so.. 😭

alsoo! im going to make a tik tok hopefully? i know nothing about posting stuff on tik tok so wish me luck lol! it'll be thighsoverlives just like my tumblr :)

⋆ warnings ⋆

death, heavy angst!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

hope you enjoy! (●'◡'●)

Her Eyes

When your world comes crashing down some say that all sound ceases. Simon didn't believe that would actually happen until he turned to look at her. He didn't believe it until he saw the bullet rip through her back.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. His breath hitched and his muscles tensed. A mix of emotions he couldn't even describe overtook his body. Bullets were flying through the air and somewhere in the distance, a grenade exploded. But he didn't care, all that mattered was her. He had to get to her. 

Rushing to her side, he knelt over her frail figure. 

“We have to get out of here.” His voice was shaky and hoarse as he gently picked her up and carried her away.

Somehow, you had managed to make it to a building that was isolated from the rest. Somehow you were able to evade the bullets and the grenades. Simon Riley, the defier of death. But yet, as he placed her body to the ground, his cold facade was slipping. 

Death was something that he would experience every single day. But this was different. It was different to hold his world in his arms and watch her fade away. To hold the person who taught him that his broken and bruised heart was capable of loving again. To hold the person who cared for him with every part of their soul. To hold the person that would die for him. To watch the life drain out of their body. To see the pain and the fear in her eyes.

He choked back a sob. It’d be okay. It’d have to. He would give up everything he had built just to see her happy. Even though he found his purpose in the military, he would leave to make sure she was safe. To make sure to be okay. You’d get an evac and he’d be by her side when she woke up in the infirmary. He’d force you both to quit this military business and she could have the house she always dreamed of. The one out in the country. And he’d do anything he could have her alive and well.

Even though he wasn’t by any means the least bit religious he was praying, begging for God to let her stay. He’d promise that he would do anything just so he could have her alive and well.

He was shaking her body. She couldn’t fall asleep. He wouldn’t let her. 

“Simon, I’m so tired.”

His heart was breaking into a million pieces once again. Pieces that she had put back together. She was his world. She was what he lived for. She was the reason he wanted to get better, to keep fighting.

He was shaking. He was consumed with uncontrollable rage and grief. He had worked very hard to be a master at regulating his emotions but how was he meant to do that when his world was collapsing?

He was conditioned to be a war machine. He was taught not to get attached. So why on Earth was he leaning over the crumpled body of the woman who was his world?

He was trying so hard to be strong. Trying to stay calm because he didn’t want her to die scared. He knew that anything he could do would be futile. The wound was bad, very bad. She was dying in his arms and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

He wanted to look at her, to tell her that it would be okay. He wanted to tell her to imagine the house in the country. The cat, the dog, and the child that she had told him so many times she wanted. He wanted to reassure her. But it was futile. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. It would only prove his failure.

He should’ve protected her.

Every being in his body urged him to speak. To tell her that he loved her. So that maybe she could know that he really did. He never did the “love” stuff. It had hurt him far too much. But she had loved him so much that he thought he might’ve finally been capable of letting someone in. When he met her gaze, she was looking into his eyes. She had always told him how pretty his eyes were. How they reminded her of a warm, cloudless summer day. Or the ocean. 

He should’ve done more. Why didn’t he protect her? Why couldn’t he protect her?

He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Why couldn’t he bring himself to speak?

He stared into her eyes. Eyes that were so full of love for him. Eyes that he loved gazing into. Eyes that he saw his future in. 

A single tear fell from his eye.

“I..”

His words were cut off by the bullet that ripped through his chest. 

No. No. No. God, no. He had to tell her that he loved her. She couldn’t die never hearing him say it. 

Two more bullets followed. He crumpled to the ground in a pathetic mess. 

Why didn’t he protect her?

He felt her hand reach out for his. He held it tenderly, lovingly, the way he had just hours ago.

“I love you, Simon.” She had said it so many times before. And she was okay with the fact that he never said it back. But this time it sounded so sad, so defeated. It was a whisper. He knew she was trying so hard to speak even though the blood was spilling into her lungs, drowning her.

Her eyes were fluttering closed.

She needed to know he loved her.

He fought against every wicked part of his body that tried to drag him away. With the worst parts that tried to stop him from saying it. “I love you.” 

Reality was slipping. He was dying, just like her. He squeezed her hand as tight as he could. He prayed that she heard him. He prayed to God that she would die knowing he loved her. It would be the first and last time he ever got to say it to her.

Such a pity he hadn’t said it earlier. 

[thighsoverlives]

Savior - 1/?

⋆ relationship ⋆

John Price x F!reader

⋆ summary ⋆

Your deadbeat boyfriend up and leaves you, turning your world upside-down. After a mishap at the local liquor store, an older man with a mysterious background takes interest in you.

⋆ notes ⋆

found this in my docs lol. its like 4 months old but i decided to finish this part of it (where is this motivation coming from??). hopefully it turns into something half decent but god knows because i have no idea where i want to take this. soo.. enjoy lol.

⋆ warnings ⋆

implied/referenced harassment (very brief)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

hope you enjoy! (●'◡'●)

Part One : Bad Decisions

Your hands are trembling as you angrily pull at fistfuls of hair. All of you want to do right now is feel anything but this stabbing pain. You’re drawing in unstable breaths but it still feels like you can’t breathe. Like all the oxygen in the world will not be enough because your lungs feel like they're going to collapse in on themselves. Like they’re going to explode. Your vision is blurry from all the tears you’ve been crying. You hate this feeling. Hate how the area under your eyes stings as more hot tears stream down your cheeks. You want everything to stop, stop, stop. You can’t do this right now.

Just last week your deadbeat piece of shit boyfriend had up and left you, using the excuse that he’d found someone better. That he’d been seeing that someone for a while. The insinuation that you had never ever been good enough for him in the four years that you’d wasted with that fucking piece of garbage hurt you more than you expected it to. You’d already emotionally detached from him months ago but it still hurt so much. Even though he was the absolute epitome of trash, he was still a major part of your life. He was stability in the sense that your life had been relatively the same for the past four years. Now that he was gone, what were you supposed to do with yourself? Were you just supposed to pick up the pieces that he had so haphazardly broken and discarded and put them back together? It seemed impossible. 

Your breathing was again becoming more labored. Your body physically fucking hurt. Everything hurt. You wanted things to go back to normalcy. Even if normalcy meant feeling alone with him. Even if normalcy meant suppressing your tears every time he made a backhanded comment or cruel remark. Even if normalcy meant being in the worst emotional pain you’d ever felt for the last four years. You hoped maybe he’d come knocking on your door in the dark of the night, telling you how sorry he was and how he’d treat you right this time. But this wasn’t a fairytale. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor, here to save you and take away all your pain. Hell, even thinking that he would apologize or give you anything that even resembled comfort was a fever dream. Why did you still want him to come back? You knew the promises of changing his behaviour were empty and hollow. But you wanted your normalcy back so fucking bad. Stop, stop, stop, stop. You wanted to yell at yourself for even thinking that. Fuck. He had screwed your brain up so much. Fuck, you hated him.

You wanted to scream. Wanted to break something. Wanted to punch a fucking hole in your wall. Wanted to break everything in your shitty apartment. God, you were such a fool. You’d wasted so much time on him and he was such a piece of shit. Fuck. This apartment was suffocating you. The walls felt like they were closing in, coming to crush you. You had to get out. You grabbed the nearest hoodie and pulled on your sneakers and in nothing else but shorts, you left your apartment. Liquor and Tylenol sounded like a nice combo to forget this shitty week. If you were lucky enough maybe you could forget the past four years too. 

The chilly March night air nipped at your bare skin as you pushed the lobby door open. You should have bothered to put a decent pair of pants on and you could hear your father’s voice in the back of your head saying “This is how you catch a cold,” but you pushed on. 

The streets were quiet. The sun had long since set so there weren’t many people out and about. The liquor store was only a couple blocks away but it probably wasn’t a smart idea to be going out in the first place. Your neighborhood wasn’t exactly what one would call safe. The apartment was dirt cheap, and for good reason too. This side of the city was riddled with crime and shady personnel. It was all you could afford though. It didn’t matter much either. You just wanted booze and some pain killers. The store wasn’t that far away and you’d never been hassled.

The door to the liquor store opened with resistance as the chimes hanging above announced your arrival. You went right to the cooler. It was slightly isolated from the rest of the store, the sliding doors separating it from everything else. The cold once again sent goosebumps racing up your legs as the doors slid open. You walked to the back of the cooler, in search of a six pack of Heineken. Maybe you’d get a twelve pack. You were pulled from your thoughts as three men approached you. 

One of the three stepped forward. He was wearing a baggy hoodie with grey sweatpants splattered with stains. “What’s a lovely lady like you doing out at this time of night?” His breath smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, with a pungent undertone of something you could only describe as shit. 

“Just picking up some beer,” you replied flatly. You had suddenly become aware that they were blocking your exit and a twinge of panic began to bloom.

“How ‘bout I take you back to my place. I can show you what a real party looks like.” He gave you a smile and it sent shivers up your spine. You should have never left the safety of your apartment. 

“No, it’s okay, my boyfriend is waiting for me at home.” You tried to return a smile and hoped your bluff didn’t sound too far fetched.

“C’mon, don’t be lame. This would be way more fun than going home to your boyfriend. Just come with me, yeah?”

“No, really, it’s okay-”

“I don’t think you’re getting the fucking hint.” He reached for your wrist, grabbing it tightly. The two other men that were with him took a step closer. 

Your stomach dropped. You were so fucked. 

“Do we have a problem here, gents?” A thick British accent came from behind the group of goons.

“I think you should mind your own fucking busines-” Before he could finish his sentence, he jaw was connecting with the British man’s fist. You were pulled forward for a second before you were able to release yourself from his grasp. He crumpled into a pathetic mess, blood pouring from a gash in his cheek. One of the other goons went to swing but was stopped by another man who kicked at the back of his knee and sent him sprawling to the floor like his friend. 

“I’d suggest you leave now.” The other man spoke in a low, calm tone as he bent down to look the two men in the eyes.. His voice was also thick with a British accent.

The group of men left the cooler quickly without any more protest.

“You alright?” 

Your hands were once again trembling as you stared at the little splotches of blood on the floor. You should have never left the apartment. What were you thinking? God you were such a fucking idiot. 

“Ma’am?” The voice was calm and soft as it broke you from your trance.

“Fine. Yes, I- I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, hands still shaking uncontrollably. 

“Uhm, the name’s Gaz, and this is Price. Sorry about what happened,” he paused. “Is there anything we can do for you?” 

“N-no, it’s fine.” You felt lightheaded, like you were going to pass out any second. What the fuck just happened? Your head was spinning. 

“Did you come here by car?” The one named Price asked. Price, a funny name, a last name? It must have been a last name. Price. Like a price tag.

“Walked.” 

You might’ve been more concerned if not for your dazed state. These men were still strangers and despite the fact that they saved you, they could also be acting with ill intentions. Why was he asking if you had a car anyways? Was it so he could determine whether or not you were an easy target? Your head was spinning 

Trembling hands grasped for a case of beer. This night was just getting shittier by every passing second. You had to get out of this cooler. It was suffocating you just like your apartment was.

You pushed past the men, bumping into the older one as you left. 

“Ma’am, are you going to b-,” His voice was cut off abruptly. The younger one said something to him and the talking ceased. They were probably plotting to abduct you. You were so, so stupid. Why on Earth did you ever leave the safety of your apartment? Sure, the complex was shitty and the security wasn’t great but at least you’d be behind a locked door. 

 You tossed the case of beer onto the counter, paying little mind to the cashier.

“Everything okay? I heard a commotion in there.” He scanned the beer, eyeing you as he did.

You scoffed, not replying. It felt like the world was against you. Maybe you were confusing genuine concern for something more insidious but you could care less what he was thinking. 

The bells chimed once again as you exited the building. As you began walking towards your apartment, you saw the two men who’d beat the goons up getting into their car. A black sedan type. You were thankful it wasn’t a white van. You sighed, pulling your hood up over your head. You were so tired of this shit. 

[thighsoverlives]

His Eyes

⋆ relationship ⋆

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!reader

edit: sorry, i had to change this to coincide with the next part but if you would like a cod fic with gn reader please let me know!

⋆ summary ⋆

A mission gone bad. Your future ripped away from you. He holds you in his arms one last time.

⋆ notes ⋆

my first tumblr post and my first work since a couple months! im quite new to writing stories and writing in general so my apologies in advance! id love to get feedback on my work :)

⋆ warnings ⋆

death, heavy angst!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

hope you enjoy! (●'◡'●)

His Eyes

Consciousness was fading in and out as you pleaded with every fiber of your body to just stay awake.

He was knelt over you, staring into your eyes. You had never seen him scared. But yet, here he was, holding you in his arms begging you to stay.

Tears were streaming down your face, and the taste of iron fresh on your tongue. Though you'd never admit it, you were terrified. Sleep attempted desperately to pull you away. It was so tempting. You'd be away from all this pain, all this suffering.

Just before you could drift away into tranquility, he was screaming your name, shaking your frail structure.

"No, no, no, you can't leave. Don't you fucking dare leave." pain laced his voice, making his once gruff dialect seem slurred. Delirium was creeping in. It was funny. He was the one who was substantially older, and yet, you were the one sat here dying. Age should've taken him far before it would ever take you. But life was like that, unfair, cruel, and jaded.

Your voice was hoarse, dry, strained. "Simon, I'm so tired." You looked into his eyes, the prettiest color of blue you'd ever seen. Like the sea, like a clear sky on a warm summer day. You remember just hours ago, staring into those beautiful orbs, seeing your future within them.

You felt death's hands grasping for you, pulling you away from your body. You were trying so hard to fight it. To stay with him a little longer. You knew it was futile. He knew it was futile. Evac was hours away, and you were bleeding out in his arms.

How this mission managed to get so screwed up, you were unsure of. It was supposed to be simple and easy.

You were pleading with God to just let you stay. Stay for a little longer. Stay so that you could look into his pretty eyes and see your future again. Stay so you could see yourself with him. You'd have a quiet little house out somewhere rural. Maybe you'd have a cat or a dog. Maybe you'd have children. But despite all the maybes, you knew for sure that he'd hold you in his arms and smile. He'd look at you with those eyes, so full of love, you couldn't even begin to comprehend how someone could love another that much. And you'd look back at him, and you'd feel safe and warm and fuzzy. He'd lean down and whisper in your ear with that accent that you loved so much. He'd tell you that all would be okay. That he wouldn't leave you and that you were safe with him. That you were important, that you were loved, and that he was proud of you. And despite all odds, you'd get your happy ending.

But life wasn't kind. Life wasn't generous. Your quiet little house out somewhere rural wouldn't exist. He wouldn't be able to hold you and tell you everything would be okay. You wouldn't get the opportunity to have a dog or a cat or even a child. Life was cruel and unforgiving.

You were reminded of that as a single bullet ripped through his chest. And then another. And another. He slouched, leaning over you. Somehow, the enemy had managed to creep back. Somehow, they had managed to find you in the abandoned building you'd been hiding in. And somehow, they'd managed to catch Simon Riley off guard. It should've been a dream. He should've left you by now. He should've accepted that you were beyond saving and gotten himself to safety. Why was he laying on the ground next to you, bleeding out, just as you did?

You looked into his eyes, watching the light slip away. In some horrible, messed up way, it gave you comfort knowing that he was dying with you.

You reached out, holding his hand. A weak smile was all you could muster. Your voice was shaky, your breath uneven. The blood was pouring into your lungs, drowning you from the inside. It was hard to breathe. Your last ounce of strength was spent imagining the house. The child, the dog, the cat. Him holding you. Him looking into your eyes. You held on to the image of his eyes. His beautiful, beautiful eyes. Hot, salty tears rolled down your cheeks. "I love you, Simon."

Sleep was tempting you. This time, you were too weak to refuse. As your eyes fluttered closed you thought you heard him say it back. The first and last time he'd ever say "I love you."

Such a pity he hadn't said it earlier.