Thats It Im Dead - Tumblr Posts

simon riley who is the one who rescues you when you're taken hostage by an enemy pmc, fighting through hell just to get you back.

simon riley who doesn't hesitate to take his mask off so as to not frighten you further. it doesn't matter that you've never seen his face, or that he's breaking down his barriers, all that matters is that you don't shake when you look at him.

simon riley who carries you out of there, safe in the warmth of his arms that hold you like he'll let you go again.

simon riley whose heart breaks because he recognises the haunted look in your beautiful eyes, and he knows he'd do anything to see them sparkle like they used to.

simon riley who slowly acclimates you to being touched again (it totally is just for you, he swears). soft brushes of his pinky against yours, a guiding hand on your back, picking a piece of fluff out of your hair.

simon riley who doesn't ask questions when you find comfort cuddling into his broad chest, because he knows mentioning it would only make you feel bad. he doesn't want to lose the way you only find peace cuddled up next to him.

simon riley who kisses your forehead but only when you're asleep, because he still has secrets to keep. he doesn't think you feel the same way, he just thinks you see a protector.

simon riley who cares even if he doesn't have the right words to tell you.

simon riley who loves you, and spends every day thankful he didnt lose you.

*throws john price at you*

please.....c-can I get more crumbs of Simon pining over a fat!darling please 🥹

i have been rereading crush and it is making me insane on how fond he is of the soft beauty. the body descriptions and the teetering and mish-mash of lust and fluff is making me cry *insert stickman figures*

characters pining over fat beauties is always gourmet I swear 😭😭😭

you're always at the laundromat the first and third thursday of the month, simon's noticed.

he hates that he's noticed, actually, because its testament to the fact that he can't stop looking at, watching, or observing you. it makes him embarrassed, how often he thinks about you. sometimes while on long flights he daydreams about all the times he's watched you bend over to load your clothes into the dryer, your already fat ass getting rounder and wider as you shovel wet towels into a rickety old machine. he's had dreams where he bites at your soft hips and digs his fingers into the rolls in your side, pinning your wide, soft body underneath him. he wants those thick thighs clamped around him and shaking with pleasure that's he's given you. he'd be so good to you if you gave him a chance, he drives himself crazy at night thinking of all the ways he wants to accomplish that.

it would be one thing if it was solely a physical attraction, but no, it can't ever be that simple. you had to go and be kind, didn't you? it almost feels like a personal attack, how unrelentingly nice you are to him. by all rights, you should be doing what everyone else does- either avoiding him or actively ignoring him. he's a big man wearing a balaclava in the middle of summer. you should be nervous around him. you most definitely aren't. you treat him the same way he's seen you treat any stranger- with a respectful distance and a friendly smile. the first time you spoke to him was to offer him a spare quarter when he'd accidentally come up short on change. he's replayed that interaction in his head hundreds of times by now, cursing at himself for just staring for a moment before silently accepting. he should have said something to you, he tells himself as he recalls your small smile as you went back to your book while you waited for your dryer to finish.

the next time he saw you, he made sure to pay back the quarters he'd borrowed. he couldn't stand the thought that you might perceive him as a mooch or something, someone who doesn't repay their debts. you were so sweet, insisting that it's no big deal, that these things happen, and you were just happy to help so he didn't have to deal with sopping wet jeans. he carefully, gently grabbed your wrist and pressed the coins into your palm, closing your fingers around it using his own. it was painfully intimate, as was the soft 'thank you' that you gave in reply.

laundry day is next week. he's not sure what he's going to say or do, but he's got some time to think about it. whatever happens, he can't let a soft, sweet thing like you slip through his fingers. he's spent enough time alone to know that his own thoughts make for terrible company, and that he'd much, much rather be in yours.

FOEKDOWKDKS I JUST SAW THESE FROM TODAYS FANSIGN IM IM IM-

CREDS TO @ jakesarchivee ON TWT