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bradshawssugarbaby · 1 month

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All-American Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's every part the doting dad to your daughter Tatum, but after talking to some of the other wives on base in your mom's group, you're worried he may be hiding his true feelings about fatherhood.

A/N: not me procrastinating and adding to my country music series instead of literally anything else on my list. here's sickeningly sweet bradley as a girl dad fluff based off All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader

content/warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff, Bradley as a girl dad, mentions of sexism.

word count: 1.4k

Now he's wrapped around her finger, she's the center of his whole world And his heart belongs to that sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American girl

Bradley groaned as he jogged up the front steps, his boots heavy against the brick as he walked up the veranda to the front door. An American flag flapped in the breeze, the pole nestled in the stand attached to the pillar on the front of the house, the mid-afternoon sun striking the front yard, basking over the dozens of plants and greenery that were planted there. Bradley kicked his boots off the moment he crossed the entryway, stacking them neatly by the door. He started unzipping his flight suit, his tanned skin slicked with sweat from the training exercises he’d completed earlier that day. He thought about the list of things he wanted to do before he settled in for the night with you - a shower was the first priority at this point.

Peeling the olive green suit off his skin, he discarded it in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. His white t-shirt and boxers followed suit, along with the thick, military issued socks. He’d plan on washing those tonight after dinner. He padded along the hallway to the bathroom, his balls of his feet sticking to the cherry wood flooring. The cool water flowing from the shower head was a refreshing comfort compared to how warm he was earlier, he contemplated asking for a transfer to somewhere colder after today - the hot Pacific coast sun was brutal, and despite having lived in California for a few years now, Bradley hadn’t adjusted. Not that Virginia Beach had been much cooler - at least, not in the summer, but it wasn’t as consistently warm as it was on the west coast.

As Bradley stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a plush, lavender coloured towel around his waist. Shaking his caramel coloured curls dry, he approached the vanity, reaching for the pomade - the same brand he’d been using to tame his hair since he was 14. His mom had taught him that trick - using a styling pomade to keep his curls intact, but less wild than they would be left to their own devices. Part of him wondered if he just never changed brands because it was the one she’d suggested for him, one of the last happy memories of his mother that he had clung to for the last 26 years.

“Bradley? I’m home!” you called out from the bottom of the stairs, having seen Bradley’s vintage Ford Bronco parked in the driveway.

“Upstairs, honey!” He yelled back, his deep voice echoing throughout the empty house.

He quickly pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a fresh, white t-shirt, grabbing his favourite floral print button-down on his way down the stairs. He beamed at you, leaning in to give you a loving peck on the cheek. He knelt down in front of the car seat you’d placed on the floor, smiling softly at his infant daughter as she stretched and yawned, waking up from the nap she’d taken on the car ride home.

“Good mornin’ sunshine! How’s my girl?”

Bradley held his index finger out to baby Tatum, smiling as she gripped it tightly in her hand. He began unbuckling her harness with his free hand as he spoke to her.

“Did you have a fun day with Mama? What did you do, princess? You and your mama go shopping for some new clothes, baby girl?”

Tatum let out a happy sigh as Bradley scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. He leaned his head down to kiss her forehead, his hand moving up and down her back in soft, slow, gentle strokes as he cuddled his baby. He took a seat on the couch, leaning back slightly so Tatum could recline on his chest. He smiled up at you, waiting patiently for you to start showing off the different outfits you’d purchased for Tatum. He’d always sworn that he’d never be the type of father who’d dismiss things he wasn’t interested in - whether it was baby clothes, or ballet, baby and me classes or going for walks around the neighborhood with her - he’d always try his best to be into it. It’s how his mom described his father - always interested in anything to do with Bradley when he was little.

You delicately sifted through the array of dresses and outfits, each garment infused with your hopes and dreams for little Tatum. With tender affection, you recounted where and when you had acquired each piece, your voice tinged with a blend of excitement and maternal pride. Tatum slumbered peacefully, her soft breaths creating a gentle rhythm against Bradley's shoulder, while you poured your heart into sharing your plans for her future attire.

As the last dress found its place, you sank onto the couch beside Bradley, seeking solace in his comforting presence. Nestling into his side, you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you, his arm offering both physical and emotional support.

“Are you happy?” you murmured softly, a trace of uncertainty lacing your words as you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip.

A flicker of confusion danced across Bradley's features before he met your gaze with unwavering reassurance.

“Of course I’m happy, why would you ask that?”

“It’s silly,” you sighed, a moment of vulnerability surfacing before you continued, meeting Bradley’s brown-eyed gaze as you spoke, “It’s just that…you know how I took Tatum to that mommy and me group?”

"Mhmm, every Wednesday," Bradley affirmed, his attention fully focused on you.

“Right! That one. Well…one of the moms was saying how she was so thankful her baby was a boy, because her husband wanted a boy really badly and she didn’t want him to be upset if he didn’t get what he wanted…”

Bradley's brow furrowed with concern as he gently kissed Tatum's forehead, a protective gesture that spoke volumes.

“Babe, he sounds like a dick,” Bradley interjected, shaking his head as he gently kissed Tatum’s forehead again.

“I’m not finished yet!” You said as you held your hand up. “So anyways, she said that, and a lot of the other moms started talking and saying how their husbands were disappointed when they had girls or relieved when they had sons, and then they said how lucky I was that you were happy with a girl. The one of them said her husband pretended to be, but then he was totally different and genuinely happy when they had a boy next.”

“And you think I’m doing that?” Bradley queried as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you.

“Well, no, but…would you tell me if you’d wanted a son instead?”

The corner of Bradley's mouth lifted in a soft smile, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "No," he replied emphatically, shaking his head. “Because I’ve never wanted a son instead of Tatum. Not once.”

“You haven’t?” You said as relief washed over you, Bradley's words washing away any lingering doubts.

“Not for a second. I’ve wanted Tatum from the minute you told me you were pregnant - I never really gave a shit whether she was a boy or a girl. She’s mine and that’s all I care about. It just happened to turn out that she’s the second Bradshaw girl around here to steal my heart, after her mama.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm, you know that song, the one where she says about how her daddy was praying for a boy, but got a girl instead and she was wrapped around his finger? Then she grows up and asks her husband one day what he wants, and he says he just wants a sweet, beautiful All-American girl like his wife?”

“Yeah, I know it,” You laugh softly as Bradley begins to hum the tune of the song, singing it softly as he looks down at Tatum.

“That’s exactly how I felt when you told me you were having a girl. I just wanted a beautiful little baby who looked just like you, and that’s exactly what I got. Now I have two beautiful girls who love me more than anything, and I would move mountains for the pair of you. We could have twelve girls for all I care - I’d love every single one of them just as much as I love you.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction

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supercutszns · 4 months

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perrie's masterlist!

(all works are tagged under perrie’s fics !)

✧ PJO

➴ oneshots

a place with you; luke castellan // luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side long after you’re claimed.

fighting chance; luke castellan // when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.

true colours; luke castellan // everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

twin beads; luke castellan // you've been unclaimed for five years. you've loved your best friend even longer. neither of those things are going to change, right?

➴ series

rotten to the touch; luke castellan // you’re a horrible person. so is luke castellan. and you both really want to make out with each other.

➴ blurbs

jason takes your makeup off after a party

✧ . . . MORE COMING SOON!

happy reading <3

#perrie’s page #masterlist #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo #pjo x reader #atla x reader #sokka x reader #spiderverse x reader #this looks so bad but i’ll fix it later #sorry

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the-tired-commander · 3 months

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Building A GW2 Pride Flag Round 3!

Hello again! It's very early this year, I know, but I wanted to try and give myself and everyone that wants to take part more time!

This year I will doing the original 8 stripe pride flag! (Thank you to everyone that voted to help me decide!)

I'll explain how this works just as a reminder and for anyone new that wants to take part!

This flag will be made up of all your lovely characters! All you have to do is reblog the colour post that you think suits them best and add a screenshot of them, and I will take it from there!

The first year I did this I got 170 characters, last year was 214! I would love to get even more characters this year!

If you've submitted a character previously and would like me to use that screenshot again, please let me know!!

I will be running this for as long as I possibly can, and I will be sure to make multiple posts about when I will be closing submissions.

PINK RED ORANGE YELLOW GREEN TURQUOISE INDIGO VIOLET

I have to ask if you're not taking part, please don't reblog the specific colour posts!! They're for me to organise everyones submissions!

A little extra info under the cut about what kind of screens to send!

Screens like these work great! They show off your character and the contrast helps me see where to cut out!

Animations from emotes or skills can add a lot so I would love to see screens using them!

The second one is a glitch screenshot but screens where your character is far away or really small don't work very well! It can make it harder to get them clear on the flag without ruining their quality.

Using the adjust to character height option can help massively for getting screenshots of asura!

DON'T FEEL LIKE YOU CAN'T TAKE PART IF YOUR COMPUTER CAN'T HANDLE HIGHER GRAPHICS!

This project is open to everyone, including those of us that have to run the game on the lowest settings <3

I can't think of anything else to list right now but if you have any questions please please do reach out to me.

I look forward to seeing your characters <3

Here are the flags from last year and the year before so you know what you're getting involved in!

#gw2prideflag #gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fan submission #let me know if theres any issues with the links or anything!#go nuts send as many characters as you want <3 #reblogs are very much appreciated

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ryanyflags · 4 months

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Trans Flags

I made a post with 4 striped trans flags a while ago, but I wanted to revisit it with some new edits/flags.

(Not all of these are mine, I just like having everything together as a set. I'll also be splitting them into sections, since there are a lot of flags.)

──────────✦──────────

transmasculine/transmasc ★ transfeminine/transfem ★ transnonbine/transenbine/transnbine/transnonbinarine

(Note: nonbine, enbine, nbine, and nonbinarine are words for nonbinary gender quality, nonbinary versions of masculine, feminine, etc. The first 3 I came up with, and nonbinarine comes from here.)

✦ All these flags follow these trans flag formats. The white and grey black stripes are the same for all of them, and the only thing that changes are the center 2 stripes, for the respective gender qualities.

The transmasc and transfem flags are the same as their originals.

Transnonbine was made by me. I used the yellow and purple stripes from the nonbinary flag.

──────────✦──────────

transandrogynous ★ transgenderless ★ transneutral/transneu

Transandrogynous is just a slight colour edit of the original. (I changed the bottom stripe to grey and adjusted the purples.)

Transgenderless is the same as the original.

For transneutral I chose green, as that's a common colour for neutrality. So it's like this variant of transneu.

──────────✦──────────

transmaverine/transmav ★ transxenine/transxen ★ transbine/transbinarine

(Note: bine/binarine is binary gender quality. Binarine comes from here, but I came up with bine follow the same naming convention as nbine.)

Transmav is pretty much the same as the original, though I changed the yellow and orange to be slightly darker, for more contrast.

Transxenine is quite different from the original. Instead of copper colours, I used a light purple blue colour scheme, just because I felt those colours were fitting.

Transbine uses the colours from this binarine flag. (I chose the lighter colours so it wouldn't look too similar to the transmascfem flag.)

──────────✦──────────

transmidbine/transmidbinarine ★ transabine/transabinarine ★ transatrine/transatrinarine

(Note: midbine/midbinarine is midbinary gender quality, abine/abinarine is abinary gender quality, and atrine/atrinarine is atrinary gender quality. I came up with midbine/abine/atrine following the naming format of nbine, and derived atrinarine from midbinarine and abinarine (which weren't made by me).)

Transmidbine, transabine, and transatrine all use the colours from my alt midbinary/abinary/atrinary flags. Besides this transabinarine flag, which uses a different format, I don't think flags for these exist, so they're pretty much new designs.

──────────✦──────────

transaporine ★ transoutherine

Transaporine is fairly different from its original. Instead of using bright red orange, I used the colours from this aporine flag.

Transoutherine is also kind of different from its original, mainly it's the colour configuration. I used this outherine flag as reference.

──────────✦──────────

From here on are combos of the above flags/terms :D

transnbinemasc ★ transandrogynousmasc ★ transgenderlessmasc

(Note: transandrogynousmasc is also called transandromasc. The wiki page lists transandromasc as both transandrogynous and transmasculine, so I assume andro is supposed to be a shortening of androgynous. However shortening it like that just means masculine, so I use androgynous instead so it's clearer.)

Transnbinemasc is a mix of the blues, yellow, and purple from the transmasc and transnbine flags.

Transandrogynousmasc is bluish purple, as a combo of the blues of transmasc and purples of transandrogynous. Same idea as the original, though I used slightly different colours.

Transgenderlessmasc is just greyish blue, as a combo of the grey from transgenderless and blue from transmasc.

(I don't think transnbinemasc and transgenderlessmasc have been made before, so those are new flags.)

──────────✦──────────

transneumasc ★ transmavmasc ★ transxenmasc

Transneumasc is just a edit of the original flag. (The colours are slightly lighter.)

Transmavmasc uses orange yellow from the transmav flag, and a adjusted blue from the transmasc flag.

Transxenmasc uses the purple from transxen, and the light blue from transmasc.

(I haven't found transmavmasc and transxenmasc before, so these are new flags too.)

──────────✦──────────

transnbinefem ★ transandrogynousfem ★ transgenderlessfem

(Note: same as the one about transandromasc, this one is also called transandrofem.)

For transnbinefem is a mix of the pinks, yellow, and purple from the transfem and transnbine flags.

Transandrogynousfem is a lot like the original, I just used slightly different colours.

Transgenderlessfem just uses a greyish pink, as a combo of the greys of transgenderless and pinks of transfem.

(Transnbinefem and transgenderlessfem are also new flags, as far as I'm aware, I wouldn't be surprised if similar flags have been made before, though perhaps just not in this format.)

──────────✦──────────

transneufem ★ transmavfem ★ transxenfem

Transneufem is based off of my transneumasc flag, I chose a light peachy colour for it. The original is pretty different, it uses a bright red instead.

Transmavfem uses the same orange yellow from transmav, and the dark pink from transfem (which I adjusted the hue of, so it would match better with the orange).

Transxenfem uses the same light purple from transxen, and the light pink from transfem.

(Last note about this, but I transmavfem and transxenfem should be new too.)

──────────✦──────────

transmascfem/transfemasc

Transmascfem flags have been made before, but not in this 4 stripe format (that I know of). I chose the dark pink from transfem, and the light blue from transmasc.

──────────✦──────────

There's also transoutherinemasc and transoutherinefem flags in the same 4 stripe style. I didn't make any though, since I couldn't figure out how to make it look. It's the same reason why I skipped out on making combos with transbine, transmidbine, transabine, transatrine, and transaporine, I just couldn't figure out a good design.

──────────✦──────────

I'll also note about the names, there's a lot of possible names for these terms, I didn't list all of them because there's a lot. So feel free to use these flags for alt terms, or come up with your own terms (as long as they mean the same thing).

✦

Haha I typed a lot, I guess it's a kind of a masterpost / compilation post with all these links, I think it's nice to have everything together in a matching set like this anyways.

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hazzabeeforlou · 8 months

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Sadly, I think a lot of fans turned away from Louis for exactly the reasons that your anon said. Harry was giving the hints/ambiguity they needed to see and Louis wasn’t. He was saddled with a girlfriend and child and seemed the antithesis of all gay stereotypes. Because -unfortunately- these fans base everything on stereotypes. They rarely look deeper. Harry wears nail polish or blouses = gay. Harry is flamboyant = gay.

I don’t know when you wrote that post, but now, in 2023 I’m more sure than ever of Louis’s queerness. His lyrics and song choices! Only the Brave and All this time. His merch and graphics have so many ambiguities. His persona of ‘10% too British bloke who only cares about football and beer’ is at odds with the sweet, introspective, creative man who comes across in the documentary or interviews that do more than scratch the surface. The themes of his two albums are all about fighting and coming to terms with hardships. About grief and love and the journey being worth it.

His tour has slowly shown Louis adjusting back to being more open. He thrives on stage. He’s sexy and more uninhabited now than he’s been since the start of 1D. It shows that his less-flamboyant stage presence was a conscious decision. Maybe a demand from above to cut out the licking fingers and hip thrusts that got him labelled “gay” in the first place. Louis’s audience is awash with pride flags and rainbow colours and he loves it, and includes it in his IGTVs and pictures.

10 years down the road from when I first fell in love with those boys, I still see the Louis I started with.

That last paragraph. I have nothing to add 👏🏼

#anonymous #louis

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critlore · 6 months

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WE'RE LIVE!!!

Run, don't walk (or the internet equivalent) to Kickstarter and back us now for early bird prices and first chance at limited rewards, including:

* Play with the writers

* Be in the book (kinda)

* Unique, in-game content for YOU, YOU, YOU!

"Urban legends" is another way to say “our deepest fears given form.” Stranger danger, government conspiracies, contaminated food, anything beyond human control — they’re modern myths to make sense of modern anxieties.

And, OK, sometimes they’re just about owl men. We can’t explain that one.

The best urban legends are shocking, gross, just about plausible, or all of the above. Those are the sweet spots we’re aiming at with these scenarios.

We’re letting our freak flag fly with Do Not Adjust Your Set, but that doesn’t mean we’re going completely off the rails. The book will include guidance on playing safely, a full set of content warnings for each scenario, and some general tips on running horror scenarios. We’re also committed to making these scenarios surprising, creepy, occasionally screwed up, but not bigoted or hateful.

Do Not Adjust Your Set will be a softcover, A5 book. We think it’ll run to about 100 pages, but stretch goals could make it bigger than that. It will include:

An introduction and advice on playing safely

How to prep and run a system-neutral scenario

Six scenarios, each good for 1-2 sessions of play (possibly more, depending on your players)

Full-colour art for each scenario by Lore Evans and Madeleine Ember

The Kickstarter is live until 28th November, but we have early bird prices and limited reward tiers, so back now!

kickstarter

#ttrpg #tabletop rpg #horror ttrpg #horror fiction #ex stasis games

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txttletale · 3 months

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not to be mean, i just dont know anything. how do you play stellaris for 400 hours and not get any achievements.

you cant get achievements if you have mods ewnabled and if i had to play stellaris wtihout 1000 ui adjustments and extra flag colours id blow up the whole galaxy

#ask

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zeroxir · 9 months

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Even More colour adjusted Pride Flags! ◇

| made by zero-xir | ◇ | anyone can use these, requests for more accepted!

Genderfluid, bi, aroace, oriented aroace, transmasc, transfemme, pangender, agender, xenogender, xeno without symbol, transmascfemme, transneutral.

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maxxsio18 · 5 months

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Ace Ring

When a black ring is worn on someone's right middle finger it is often showing they are identifying as someone on the asexual spectrum.

Ace rings don't always have to be fully black they can have spots of other colours and it doesn't have to be a plain ring it can have any design that you want.

Many people in the world/outside of the asexual community wouldn't know what an ace ring would me unless asked, so it is a way for other aces to identify each other in the world.

The idea of having an ace ring in the asexual community started on AVEN in 2005 and was a common symbol for asexuals.

I have four different aces rings, all are black but they all have different designs. My first ace ring I ever got was last year in 2022, this was my first ring that I ever got so I was a bit confused on ring sizes, but lucky it was a ring in the shape of a set of wings which I could easily adjust to my ring size.

The next ring I got was a pirate skull with bones as the ring, this one is cool because it has purple jewels in the eyes which purple is in the asexual flag and just fits in well.

Then the next two I got was more plain black but was design as a snake and a feather which they both look great!

Do you have a ace ring? What does yours look like if you do have one, I'm interested to know all the unique designs there are!

Have a good day all!

This is me signing in and signing out

🖤🩶🤍💜

#asexuality #asexual #asexual struggles #pride #ace pride #ace problems #blogging #pride stuff #ace speaks #ace price #ace space #acespec #ace ring #asexual representation #asexual rights

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wayfayrr · 11 months

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I would dye for you

so this was inspired by a mix of an ask on @cloudninetonine's account and a couple of details from something I did in totk, but there aren't any story spoilers there's just a screenshot at the bottom.

This is a little fluff side story for something else I'm writing, where Wild and the reader get tossed into reader's world and split from the rest of the yandere chain. I might flesh this out into more of an au but as of now but honestly, this idea just lives rent-free in my brain

"so you’re sure, like completely sure this is what you want"

"I want to try something new, besides it's not like I'll get the chance to have you do this for me again anytime soon, is it? And you’re the one who suggested I should change things up so I don’t get recognised, why not do it like this? "

Wild lifted their arms with the giddiest smile on their face, a box of temporary dye held like the most precious treasure they could've found. Deep cobalt blue, awfully reminiscent of someone’s scarf, just enough to cover all of his hair to hopefully stop the instant recognition of him on the streets wherever the both of you go.

After the initial shock of them falling through the portal with you back into the real world, if you could even call Hyrule fictional after everything you went through there; after their shock and excitement died down to a reasonable-ish level. The both of you decided perhaps something should be done so people don’t instantly recognise him as Link - the protagonist of Breath of the Wild, new clothes helped, but thankfully the modern world has a few more options for disguises.

"When I suggested dying your hair, it’s not like I expected you to get a colour that bold, wait - where did you even get that from?"

"I bought it when you were looking at the other dyes, it’s such a fun colour not like anything I could get easily at home. You - you’re not bothered are you?"

With that last sentence wild seemingly decided to try his luck with you, looking up like a kicked puppy begging for reassurance that what he did was okay, that he won’t be in trouble for his actions. Begging you to comfort him, to do anything to get them to smile; all the while knowing they've got you wrapped around their finger. you're all his, no other heroes to steal your attention off of him, to steal away your smile, to steal your sweet voice from your lips, no he's got you all to himself…

as they believe they deserve.

You can't even see the countless red flags burying him in a crimson hue, too focused on helping him adjust to this alien world or if the thought ever crosses your mind that he's too happy about being trapped so far from home it's quickly dismissed.

they're a link, noble, courageous; chosen by Hylia herself. you've got to be imagining things. He couldn't can’t be like that.

it's hard not to cave at his face, so you simply end up ruffling his hair and plucking the box from eager hands.

"no don't worry I'm not, it's your hair so you get the final say on anything about it. just kinda surprised you chose this colour is all. ready then?"

Wild's mood instantly brightened at those few words, with a relieved manic, unhinged smile bright enough to blind anyone not used to him but keeping the same begging eyes through it.

"yeah! Of course I am, you're going to be doing it all for me right? right?"

"Well, you know how to use the shower, so you can wash the dye off yourself, no? But I’ll be helping you with the rest of it all."

He doesn’t even speak that time, opting to pout and turn away from you sulkily, like you’ve said the wrong thing, chosen the wrong option.

"Do you want me to even wash your hair for you after?"

"..."

"...please [name]?"

If you didn’t assume it was because you were the only thing they had familiar to them in this world, you could say that Wild has gotten far more whiny and needy towards you. Of course that can still be said, but there’s a sane reason behind it.

With a playful sigh, you push Wild down onto a chair, gesturing for them to take off their shirt which they do after a moment of hesitation, their face coated by a blazingly hot blush. After tossing an old towel around their shoulders and tugging on the cheap plastic gloves you could finally start getting to work. Using the bottle of dye’s nozzle to pipe it through their roots making sure every area is coated before running the dye through with your fingers coaxing it through every inch of his hair, drowning the sun by submerging it in the deep blue of the sea.

Wild for his part was relishing every moment in the bliss of your touch, leaning up into your touch like it’ll cure his every hurt, really it’s a miracle they’re still on the chair and haven’t fallen off with how far they’re leaning into you. Having to gently nudge him back to sitting upright, so that the dye’s even and so that he doesn’t slump to the floor.

Before he gets the chance to really enjoy the feeling of your fingers in his hair, you're already backing off and peeling away the gloves to admire your work blatantly ignoring his pitiful whine towards your actions.

"That’s the dye in then, so you’ve just gotta wait for a while till it's ready to wash out, won't take long, only half an hour"

they don't even have the dignity to respond to that, sitting there with a sulky pout that goes unnoticed. it takes them a moment for him to shake off the fact that you couldn't just sit there like that for half an hour, before responding.

"So you’re definitely washing my hair for me then?"

"Pfft, yeah someone’s gotta make sure you don’t trash my bathroom with dye. I’ll rinse it off for you in the sink."

"Can you play with my hair longer this time..?"

He would’ve never had the courage to ask that in front of the chain, lest the arguing starts up again. Although now he’d be far more willing to risk that; due to the fact that the two of you’ve been living separately from the chain together for a couple of months now, it’d be far harder to split you apart to the others’ dismay.

The processing went far faster than either of you could’ve expected and soon enough it was time to wash his hair out and see if the dye took to it well, not that there was much of a chance it couldn’t given his natural colour.

So after leading them to the bathroom and setting them on a chair shifted so they could lean over the sink, you took to work, gently tipping water through their hair to get out all the residue. When the heavy was washed out you switched to massaging his roots till the water ran clear, not a single dash of dye left in sight. Even then you weren’t quite finished deciding to go the extra step, with the conditioner in hand and him melting underneath you.

Shaking him back awake was a new experience though seeing as he’s usually one of the first to wake anyway, then if he were ever to nap it wouldn’t be due to you washing his hair or anyone washing their hair.

"Hey, link all the dye's washed out now. You've just gotta dry your hair."

"Mh, alright then [name]. I’ll do it."

He’s still drowsier than you’d ever really seen him when you all were travelling through Hyrule but chucking a towel at his head seemed to snap him out of it. Ruffling his hair with the old towel till it was dry enough for him, in other words still dripping wet; he leaned against you with a pleased smile like you hung the very stars in the sky just for him."I love this, it just feels right, thank you so much for helping me like this [name]... And I can count on you doing it whenever I need a top up right?"

so uh, I definitely reacted totally normal when I found out you could dye Link's hair in totk. but on the other hand look at Link with blue hair and tell me I'm wrong - that he doesn't look incredible

#totk spoilers #I guess?#there's a single screenshot and an offhanded mention #but 0 story whatsoever is spoiled #link x reader #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #lu wild #lu wild x reader

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 1 year

Text

where Simon introduces you to Ghost

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

WARNINGS: established situationship (or is it). angsty. 18+ only.

LENGTH: 5k

Sooner or later, this way or that, the bubble was going to burst, and now that it was happening—just as you’d predicted—you’d both turned out to be responsible for it.

< Prev Part || Next Part >

_____

Sooner or later, the bubble was going to burst. You knew that, he probably knew that. Your collective cognisance (and resigned acceptance) of the fact was in sync—so much so that you’d have found it comforting under different circumstances, how in tune with each you were—and you knew you’d collectively be responsible for it.

Working together towards your relationship’s last hurrah.

You, with your devotion plain on your face, plain for him to see and develop a hostility to.

Him, with the sky-high walls he’d built around himself, only able—or willing—to show you any hint of what he felt towards you when he was inside you.

Sooner or later, this way or that, the bubble was going to burst, and now that it was happening, just as you’d predicted, you’d both turned out to be responsible for it.

_____

With the benefit of hindsight, something was clearly bothering Simon that night, and you should have clocked his behaviour as odd immediately.

At least your involvement starts innocently enough.

You return home from a shit day at work. A screw up in the orders the night before had led to an ingredient shortage (you’d had to have a commis run down to the shops to grab flour for fucks’ sake), a fussy table had pissed you off, and—today of all days for this shit to happen to you—you’d left your knives home, and had to use the shitty blunt knives at the kitchen.

You’re upset and your exhaustion seeps into your bones.

Under usual circumstances, this wouldn’t prevent you from seeing Simon per se. Far from it, sometimes a rough pounding scratched the itch, made it easier for you to step away from your thoughts, gave you something else to focus on.

Today, however, was not usual. Today, you just wanted to go home and sleep off your shit day, fully intending on consuming an inordinate amount of beer and passing out in front of the telly.

But…Simon had been back on leave for 10 days now, and you hadn’t heard from him at all, bar a text. Landed.

You knew the series of events that took place when he returned from deployment—he would take a day or two to reset. Adjust into civilian life, as far as he could. Then he’d text you. You’d see each other three or maybe four times over the period of his leave. Then he’d return to work again. Rinse and repeat.

So when you walk home from work in the heavy rain—because why not—you’re taken aback to see him leaning against the front door to your flat block, looking broody and sullen as his eyes dart from person to person walking across the small park in front of your block.

That, by itself, should have been an indication that something was wrong. You’ve stepped into the outside world with him before and you know he’s always on guard, always switched on, looking for an unknown threat. But he never makes it obvious, and every time you look up at him, his attention is focused on you.

So today’s behaviour is an obvious red flag, a slip-up in the facade as he clearly wears his stress in the furrowed lines of his brow, but your elation at seeing him brings his gorgeous mask-covered face to sharp focus, muting all colours at the edges of your vision.

“Simon?” you ask, rummaging through your pockets for your key.

“Who the fuck else?” comes the gruff reply.

Your eyebrows rise as far as they can go on your forehead. “Okie doke,” you murmur under your breath, but you know he hears you anyway when he scoffs. Wow. So it was going to be like that tonight.

You fumble with the key to your flat, but when you finally manage to let yourselves in, he pauses. “What happened to your alarm?”

It takes you a second, and you grimace. “Oh yeah, not sure what’s wrong with it. Haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.” You run a quick hand through your drenched hair. “I need to shower and dry my hair, do you need anything?”

You don’t even know why you ask. He’s been over enough times to know his way around your flat.

“Gonna fix your alarm,” he mutters under his breath, and you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at him.

“Look, Simon, it’s fine. It’s whatever—I’m going for a shower, just order some food,and we can hang out. Forget the alarm. I missed you,” you blurt, and immediately regret the words.

His massive arms cross over his chest immediately in a defensive posture, and you glance away. “I saw you a month ago.”

“I know, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…it doesn’t matter–”

“You can’t say that shit to me,” he interrupts, his eyes dark with sudden ire. “ I don’t want to hear it, yeah?”

“I just meant–”

“I don’t fuckin’ care what you meant. Don’t. Say. That shit to me.”

“Simon! What is the matter with you? Did…did something happen?” You take a step toward him and your hand reaches out to touch his forearm, but he backs up. You’ve never known him to lose his cool like this, not at something so trivial, and certainly not at you.

“This was fucking stupid,” he mutters under his breath, and then turns to you with dark eyes. “Don’t wanna do this right now, I’ll see you later.” He turns to leave before you have a chance to say anything, and your broken safety alarm catches his attention again. “Get this shit fixed.”

The implied or else suddenly makes you see red. Your heart thuds in your chest and you’re surprised at the sudden fury you feel right now.

“Wh-What the fuck is happening right now? Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m a dog!”

Your caustic words make him freeze with his hand on the door knob, and his shoulders tighten. You can see how intimidating his enemies must find him in his rage. He stands unnaturally still, and his back is turned to you, but you’re under no misunderstanding—his anger is both potent and consuming. His stillness is dangerous.

You take a deep breath and try to calm your racing heart. “Look, just…can we talk? Something’s clearly happened, let’s just calm down and talk about it, alright?”

He scoffs at your words and turns to face you slowly, arms still crossed over his chest. “You wanna talk, pet? Let’s talk. What do you wanna talk about?”

“Simon–”

“I’ll start. Why the fuck is your flat falling apart, eh? You need a functioning alarm.”

“Jesus Christ, what is the deal with you and that alarm? This is ridiculous!”

“You’re the one s’fucking ridiculous,” he breathes. “You could get broken into in the middle of the night, and you wouldn’t even know it.”

You drag a hand over tired eyes. “Oh my god, why do you give a shit? This has nothing to do with you.”

Simon exhales. “It could happen while I'm here. Then what?”

“You can take care of yourself, Simon. Besides,” you can’t hold back a small, bitter laugh “you’re not around enough for there to be a real risk to your safety, alright?”

“Is that what this is about? How you missed me?” His voice is mocking, and it’s enough petrol to your fire that your fury rises exponentially. “ I should be around you more? Quit the army to be your lap dog, s’that it?”

“No. We are not having this conversation, you’re taking this too far.”

What you don’t tell him is that you can’t have this conversation with him—not now, not ever. You’re in love with him, you’re so helplessly in love with him, and it will break more than just your heart if he throws it back in your face right now.

“Not fuckin’ far enough,” he mutters. “Christ, what the fuck am I doin’ here,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Aren’t you here to fuck me, then leave, then come right back when you like only to pick back up where you left off, like the convenience that I am to you?”

“You think this s’fuckin convenient for me, pet? Think anything about being with you is convenient?”

“Being with me?” you snort, your anger making you lash out. “Please let’s not pretend that this is anything more than somewhere warm and wet for you to stick your dick in every time that you’re in London, Simon. I’m not with you, and you’re certainly not with me.”

You turn away from him quickly, walking into your kitchen without giving him the opportunity to respond. What you need right now is some space. You don’t hear him immediately follow you, but you’re far from convinced that this is over.

You grab a glass from the cabinet above you, fill it with water. Your fingers tremble as you bring it up to your lips, though you convince yourself that it’s because you’re still wet and cold from the rain.

It’s your nerves that make you grip the edge of the kitchen counter hard, until your knuckles turn white. Fuck, where is this coming from? What could have happened to him?

You feel more than hear his presence lurking at the entrance to your kitchen. You turn to him with a sigh, trying to stay calm and reason with him. And though his words have been hurtful to this point, something about the way he just stands there makes you look up at him. His eyes are hard, an edge to them you haven’t seen before, but they’re also shiny. Honest. Wounded.

You sigh again. “Can we just drop this? Look I’m sorry I said anything, let’s just–”

“Do whatever the fuck you want to do, I’m out.” He states, but makes no move to leave. It’s almost like he’s baiting you to respond, waiting for…something from you. You see his hands clench and unclench at his sides, see the slight tremble in his fingers.

So this is how it ends. This is the culmination of almost a year’s worth of devotion to this man, to making him the centre of your universe. The fight leaves you almost as quickly as it arrived.

“If you’re going to leave, then just fucking leave. Do what you think is right.”

“What I think,” he yells suddenly, “is that you’re fuckin’ messing with my mind.” His voice breaks and his hands go up to his hair, tugging at the short strands in frustration. “You—you’re fuckin’ everywhere. Y-you…SHIT.” He slams his hand against the kitchen door, the frame rattling with the force.

Your vision blurs with hot tears, from the hurt you feel and from the pity that takes centre-stage in your chest when you look at him. He’s clearly wrecked with something you can’t put your finger on. Something’s happened, something’s gone wrong at some point between the last time you saw him and now, and even Simon—with the world’s indifference he pretends to possess—can’t move forward, can’t look past it.

Most of all, you resent that he’s making you tense, a natural reaction to a physically larger man looming over you and speaking to you in a raised voice.

The tears flow freely now. “What–what’s wrong Simon, please, jus–”

“Fuck,” he breathes, his eyes scrunched closed, one hand holding his chest. “I can’t—can’t do this. Thought I could…forgot…can’t forget.”

“Simon…please. You’re scaring me.” You whisper, and it’s like you can’t help yourself. Your feet take him to you as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and your face crumbles when he makes eye contact with you, and you see his shimmering eyes staring back at you.

He slowly lowers to his knees and you go down with him. He’s starting to pant like he’s been running hard, his breaths staccato and loud, and his chest starts to heave violently. “Can’t–can’t breathe, shit, shit,” he whimpers, and you don’t think there’s much more of your heart left to break.

“Hey, hey, look at me. It’s alright, I’m here, look at me. There’s enough air in the room, Simon, listen to my voice. There’s enough. Just breathe for me.” You try to soothe him as much as possible, trying to pitch down your voice, make it soft and lilting. He grabs your hand in a death grip, and you gently use your intertwined fingers to guide his face to the crook of your neck. He comes easily, takes a deep breath, and for some time, this is all he does. Just breathes in your scent where it’s the strongest, and you both sit there on the floor of your kitchen, shivering.

Your tears slowly return, and he clutches at you tighter but says nothing.

_____

You don’t know how long you sit there with him.

You hold him until the muscles in your arm ache and burn, and even then, you don’t let go. You’ve enough awareness to realise that this wasn’t about you at all—you were just there when the dam burst—but you’d both said some horrible things to each other. Things you couldn’t take back.

He shudders in your arms, once, twice, kisses your neck, then slowly lifts his head to look up at you. He doesn’t cry—you’re not sure he even can—but his gorgeous green eyes soften and melt as they look deep into yours. He’s never been vulnerable with you, this is more emotion than you’ve ever seen him show, and so you don’t say anything. He keeps looking at you, searching for…something, but you’re not sure what.

He seems to find whatever he was looking for after a moment, and looks away from you. “M’sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse from disuse.

You nod and run your fingers gently through his hair. “Does…does this happen a lot?”

“Not for a while. Thought–thought they stopped. Sorry,” he says again, and sighs.

You move your arms so they’re wrapped around him tighter, and lay your head on his shoulder. “I know we don’t do this, but…do you want to go to bed, Simon?”

“Shit, I–I can’t. Baby, I can’t. Not tonight.”

You swallow at the rejection and your eyes dart away from him quickly. You know this isn’t about you but you can’t help but feel like all he does is reject you, over and over.

But his hold on your chin is gentle but firm, and he brings your eyes back to his. “I’ve been—there’s dreams. Nightmares. S’bad.”

“Then stay awake with me. Let’s just stay awake together…in bed?”

You don’t know where you stand with him right now. You don’t know where you’ll go from here. But when he whispers a quiet okay, and gathers you to him, you think you understand where you stand, right in that moment, and it’s enough for you.

You can only hope that it’s enough for him too.

_____

You undress quietly, facing away from him. He turns the lights off in the room, you hear his mask drop on your bed stand, and then…bliss. He pulls you to him and his arms wrap around you, legs tangling with yours, your face burrowing in his chest. You almost can’t believe it—you went from just sex to almost nothing to…this.

It makes all the soft thoughts you hold for him in your heart bubble up to your throat, and you have to hold back from blurting them out.

He stays silent for a long time, his breathing deep and even, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep after all. So when his soft voice pierces the night, you almost jump. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Tha’ was—I’m sorry.”

You sigh. He’s hurt your feelings, been completely inconsiderate, been downright hateful, and all you feel is fear that he’s going to take it all away. You hate that the worst possible scenario for you is that he could take himself away from you.

“I’m sorry, too. I don’t—I know you don’t think of me as a convenience. I shouldn’t have said that.”

But his body is taut now, tense. He reads you well.

“But. You need to define what you want here, Simon. I respect you enough to stick to our original agreement. But if you want to…pause this, then do it. It’s fine. But I won’t be strung along—”

“S’not fine to me.” It’s all he says. You’re physically close enough to him to feel his heartbeat between your bodies, strong and starting to take off in his chest. Your heart, in turn, thuds painfully in your chest, hands and feet clammy, feeling the adrenaline in his body move into yours.

“What happened, Simon?” Your words are soft, but firm.

“No,” he whispers, his grip unyielding on you. “Not tonight, please, pet. Know I fucked up, Jesus. Fuckin’ knew I went too far today…just not tonight. Please.”

You pause a moment. Hear his words. “Okay,” you agree, and lean your face up to kiss him. He responds eagerly, clutching you tight. Far too eagerly, considering the events of the evening, and you feel him hot and heavy against your thigh. You’re not surprised.

Pleasure and pain all mixed up in his mind. All paths, you’d once hoped, leading him to you. Seems like they finally did.

You continue to kiss him, languid and slow, and at one point you feel his brows tightly furrowed and pressed against yours. An emotion you can’t name settles deep in your chest, and it makes your heart swell and throb.

Simon is an enigma to you, a puzzle you can’t solve, a man you thought felt only the bare minimum, just enough to get through his life. But he proves you wrong, shows you just how little you know the man you’re in love with. Simon feels. He feels so much, feels so intensely that he separates his entire person from it—becomes Ghost—and tries to keep your Simon safe.

But you know that right now, in this moment, it’s not Ghost who pulls you over him, hands moving over your back gently, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of your skin. It’s not Ghost in your bed right now, kissing you like the world is ending around you. And it’s not Ghost who lets you go for a second only to wipe your tears and press gentle kisses along your jaw and the side of your neck.

“Can I?” he whispers. “Pl-please let me, fuck, let me—”

“Yes, God, please.”

He wastes no time after that. You think he’s going to push inside you—you brace for that sweet, first stretch—but you’re quickly flipped around so you’re on your back. He crawls down your body, pulls your panties off and you’re not prepared,not even close to prepared,for the barrage of sensation his body invites in yours. Warm breath for a sliver of a second, then a hot tongue and a thick finger find you molten and willing for him, and you think that this, right here, like this with you, this is where he belongs.

He may belong to whatever demons reside in his mind, whatever he does out there when he’s away from you for months on end, but he belongs to you while he’s here like this too.

You’ll take whatever you’re given and you’ll endure.

He pulls you away from your thoughts just as they descend into forbidden territory, but you don’t care. He can keep himself locked away from you as much he wants, as much as he feels he needs to, but he can’t stop what’s already taken root in your chest. That belongs only to you.

“S’this okay, pet? You alright?” He whispers, then dips his head down to nip at where the evidence of how alright you are paints the insides of your thigh. “You with me?”

“I’m with you, Simon,” you whisper back, the irony and stark contrast of the words against the ones you’d flung at him earlier not lost on you.

Seems he’s thinking the same thing.

“Won’t happen again, dove.” The words are promised against your clit, and his fingers don’t stop moving inside you when he speaks. “Promise, I–fuck–I won’t bring it home again.”

The whispered words don’t give you much solace—you know he can’t help but carry it with him wherever he goes, even if he thinks differently—but his use of the word home lights a warmth in your chest like you haven’t felt before.

Home, yes, this is home, with him, worshipping between your legs and you, hovering on that cliff edge, waiting for that feeling only his touch brings. Waiting for him to give you something you can’t quantify, waiting for him to release the part of you that he holds so you can run free with it, now it’s been imbued with his essence.

He doesn’t keep you waiting long, gives you exactly what you need to be able to drop off that precipice without anything to catch you—and when your pleasure finally runs in your veins, you know it’s because only he can touch you the way you need to be touched at that moment.

Your hips arch against his mouth, and you haven’t even fully come down from your high yet before he’s moving away from you, freeing himself from his jeans and pushing inside you to the hilt. The feeling of sudden fullness is almost overwhelming, and your breath sputters and chokes in your chest, as though he’s lodged himself in your throat instead of your cunt. You gasp and clutch at him, but he’s not done taking your breath away—he lifts both your legs and effortlessly puts them on one of his shoulders.

You know you’re the singular object of his focus when you close your eyes and turn your face away so the meagre lights from your window don’t accidentally show you his face, but his hand moves to your jaw and brings it back to him. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

“Simon—”

“Open them,” he insists. “I want to see your gorgeous eyes, sweet girl. L-let me see them.”

You open your eyes.

You can’t see him clearly—of course not, it’s close to pitch black in the room—only the outlines of his features, but you understand what he means. You want to see his gorgeous eyes when he pounds into you with no abandon, showing you he cares for you in the only way he thinks he’s allowed to. It’s dark but you can see pieces of him. A mosaic. You can draw your own conclusions from the pieces of the puzzle you’ve been handed.

Your eyes trace the crooked length of his nose—how many times has it been broken? You bring your hand up to trace a single finger over his tight jaw and move up to gently run your hand over his hair—how long can it grow? Does he cut it himself? You can’t imagine him allowing someone else to do it, touch him like that, he wouldn’t allow that level of intimacy.

“I want to get on top,” you breathe. He starts to shake his head, but you cup his face in your palm. It makes him pause, then nod. With a grace you think someone of his size and build shouldn’t possess, he helps you up without slipping out of you, and sits up while you straddle him.

You start to ride him, but hug him close to your chest—the coalescence of a thousand galaxies in a universe-shattering type of violence could not pull you away from this moment with him—and he groans against your skin. His mouth moves to your throat, and you swear, you swear, he whispers into the crook of your neck before he kisses it, but you’re so far gone that you don’t hear and you can’t think to ask him. You’re safe like this, with his arms wrapped around you and with the knowledge that he cares—just doesn’t know how to show it.

Home in the truest sense of the word.

His hands move to your back, supporting you, even as you rise and fall steadily on his cock. For as desperate as he was railing into you before, he seems perfectly content for you to take your time now, reach the pinnacle of your bodies’ connection, but not sprint towards it and end it too soon. One of his arms moves to cradle the back of your head and the small shift causes your clit to grind against the coarse hair on the base of his cock. Your throaty moan doesn’t go unnoticed—nothing ever slips past him unnoticed—and he jerks his hips up, over and over so the sensation never stops, and you feel closer than ever to your peak.

You’re panting now too, the strain on your muscles making you slick with sweat, and you can tell he’s close too. His jaw is clenched and his eyes stare intensely into yours, but you feel the tightening of the muscles in his thighs and his hips never cease their insistent pistoning motion into yours.

You’re so close, so close to coming and his hand disappears just briefly between the two of you where you’re joined, rubs at your clit, gathering the slick and bringing it up to your mouth. You exhale at the filthy action—even after all this time he finds new ways to surprise you—but you grab his fingers before they reach you and push them into his mouth instead. You catch the widening of his bright eyes and his sharp hiss, but he keeps them on you as he sucks on his fingers. You grab his face and kiss him then, and the movement of his tongue inside your mouth mimics that of his cock—it’s deep and thorough, leaving no stone unturned in absolutely undoing you.

You pull back for a moment, and you’re both suspended as though in space—nothing between you but darkness, but you’re wrapped in it too, so are you really apart?

You suppose you are and you aren’t.

The only two people in the universe.

He thrusts up into you a few more times, his rhythm broken and stuttering, but his eyes never leave you. You come just like that, your eyes screwed shut tight and your body burning up with molten heat. It licks down your spine, and you feel tingles running down the length of your body, from your fingertips all the way down to your toes.

Your world goes bright then dark, a supernova behind your eyes from the orgasm he gives you, but a black hole where you feel his arms wrapped around you—opposite but sister forces, blinding you when you try to look at him but pulling you into him anyway.

The only two people in a universe that is kind enough to let you pass through it together, that lets you exist at the same time as this man, gives you the privilege to love a man who is so clearly deserving of it, unashamedly craves for it, has been denied it at every turn in his life.

While you come down, you dread the conversation you still need to have with him. His behaviour is not on but you can’t help but focus on the fixation with your alarm. That singular thing could not have set him off. Unless—

Well. You can’t even start to guess. The life he leads when he’s away is so far removed from yours, you can’t even begin to imagine what he’s seen, the things he’s done in his line of work. Fuck, you don’t even know what his line of work is.

“Can hear your mind workin, pet,” he murmurs to you. “You gonna tell me?” He moves his face so he can kiss your neck, then decides to stay there.

“Just—just thinking about you.”

“Not thinkin’ about much then?”

“Plenty,” you insist with a small smile. “Actually, I was thinking about how you must hate how much I reek. Just came home from an extra-sweaty shift and you fucked me before I even showered. Disgusting.”

“Quite the opposite, pet. Ain’t tasted anything sweeter,” he murmurs. He even makes a point of it by licking his favourite spot on your neck.

“Dirty flatterer,” you whisper. His face lifts up to you, and he slowly lifts your hand up and brings it to his face. You can feel the beginnings of a smile on his lips, and it tells you what you need to know for now. “Shower, then take out?”

“Yeah, pet.”

“Then maybe we can look online, find a replacement for my alarm?”

You hear him swallow, then nod and lean in to kiss you. He kisses you for what feels like a lifetime, pouring a profound sadness and longing into it. You’re scared of it, as much as you hurt for him. You still don’t understand it, you don’t get why this situation made him so upset to begin with, but you’re willing to work with him on it. You’re willing to—

“Need you safe, pet. Can’t—won’t compromise on that. Need you to be safe while I’m away, yeah?”

“Okay, Simon.”

“Mean it. Was a proper dick to you today, it won’t happen again. We’ll…talk about it,” he mumbles. “But you need to stay safe, I won’t—you can’t get hurt.”

“I won’t, Simon. I won’t get hurt. This is a safe neighb—”

“No. Things can happen, dove. Trust me.” He exhales heavily. “Fuck, trust me, I know. Just need to know you’re safe when I ain’t here.”

You acquiesce slowly, nodding and laying your head on his shoulder, your heart full with his words.

How is it that every time you think you figure out one part of the puzzle, it expands, as though no amount of individual pieces of him could ever hold him, could ever hope to draw a full picture. It’s like he exists outside of the plane you reside in, too big, too complex to be deciphered by using small pieces of him.

No, he only unravels when he hands you the string and tells you to pull. He’s only ever yours when he chooses to come to you himself.

Simon, Ghost, you don’t care.

You love the version of him that does.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #situationship simon

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