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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

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Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts.

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles.

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head.

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest.

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts.

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!”

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly.

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you.

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back.

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod.

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes.

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even.

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet.

He stands like a statue.

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.”

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.”

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John.

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.”

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals.

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.”

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material.

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk.

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively.

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind.

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down.

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again.

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window.

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.”

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs.

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away.

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker.

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes.

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech.

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows.

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head.

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air.

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.”

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk.

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows.

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder.

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!”

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip.

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?”

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed.

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat.

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing.

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed.

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently.

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips.

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.”

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should.

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear.

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece.

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.”

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another.

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want.

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything.

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed.

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava.

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.”

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.”

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight.

What in the hell was going on?

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible.

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was.

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too.

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively.

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed.

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.”

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly.

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt.

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment.

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.”

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment.

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften.

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?”

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.”

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.”

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out.

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt.

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back.

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire.

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm.

A secluded home. Nothing around.

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death.

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you.

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside.

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

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midnightarcheress · 16 days

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Simon has a new assignment.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader 1 | gold rush masterlist.

after years exhausting his body in the military and too many losses to count, Simon decided to retire. goodbye extensive deployments, food and sleep deprivation, constant adrenaline pump in his veins, hours spent washing the blood off of his fingernails. except he didn’t truly retire. life as a civilian again was too strange, too boring. he thrives in following orders and being the best at it. he missed having a purpose, even if it’s far from saving the world.

so, because of that, he agreed on joining a private military company as a contractor. never takes the dirty, mercenary-like jobs though – despite being rusted, his moral compass is still there, so he usually sticks with the security, training, bodyguarding type of work. easy enough to not take a toll on his body, and to not strain his conscience with the worry of ending innocent lives to cover up some bastard’s filth, but demanding enough to keep his mind out of his own life for a while.

the guy on the other side of the line doesn’t tell him much about the new task. bodyguard for an actress, indefinite time, details via e-mail. a few minutes later, the computer screen lights up with the case information and his eyes skim through the text; famous actress, has been receiving threatening letters and who ultimately has a stalker. a seemingly uncapturable one, as the police have not been able to trace them for months. incompetent wankers. in his prime he would locate terrorists with ease; nothing he couldn’t do right now, but his contract was strict – keep her safe and keep to yourself.

he doesn’t recognize the name, but the small picture attached to the message is slightly familiar, maybe from one of the times he spent hours flicking through the channels on the telly while battling a crippling insomnia. his brows knit together when he peers at the set of rules that accompanies the e-mail. no talking, no touching unless extremely necessary, must keep distance at all times.

in the months he’s been working in the company, he never had a job with an actual celebrity – mostly politicians and businesspeople, extremely straightforward and simple to execute, usually for a short period of time. he’s convinced that it will be the longest mission of his life, probably dealing with an entitled rich woman who’s used to having everybody begging at her feet.

dread fills his mind as he watches the trees quickly passing by his window on the car. the drive to the meeting is short enough to contain the rate of the antipathy brewing on his chest, but long enough to make him question accepting the assignment.

he pulls up on the driveway and walks towards a tall, modern building, filled with frantic people walking from side to side. glancing at his phone, he re-reads the details of the reunion; second door on the 23th floor, her manager will be expecting you. his fingers tap on the side of his thigh as the lift raises to the office level, eyes glaring at the mirror in the back of the platform. the image on the glass differs from the one on his past – military buzzcut and skull-printed balaclava replaced by messy blond locks and a neck gaiter, still covering a bit of his face even after all this time. old habits die hard.

the doors pry open right after the number appears on the screen and he walks down the hallway to the office, stopping on his tracks as he notices a feminine voice coming from inside the room. “i’m scared just as much as you, but is this really necessary?” she’s in there too? wasn’t the meeting only with the guy?

“yes, princess, it is necessary. do you want to make the front-page news as a corpse?” another voice can be heard responding, this time, male. must be the manager. “in case you've forgotten, i’m also your friend, and i’m merely concerned about your safety. we cannot let that stunt from last week happen again.” stunt. he recalls part of the information on the file, depicting how she was almost assaulted by a weirdo that followed her on the street; however, the creepy prick was cleared from being the stalker and left the station on bail. great justice system.

“we’ve already increased the security on your house, he was just hired to keep you safe on the outside.” he decides to stop eavesdropping and knocks sharply on the door. “must be him.” the man says, and he listens as footsteps approach the entryway.

“well, hello there. please, come in,” he steps aside, allowing Simon to enter the room. the office is fairly average, leather couch on one corner, portraits on the wall of what he assumes are the man’s clients, but all of the attention goes to the large windows showing a perfect view of the city. “so, i’m Daniel, the great manager as you may know," he smugly speaks, "and of course you already know her.” he gestures to the woman on the armchair.

the woman from the picture. the woman from the late night movie he was absentmindedly watching on a late night. you. you look the same as he'd seen before, but somehow entirely different. the warm sunlight coming through the glass shines on your skin when you stand on your feet, golden flecks twinkling in your irises as you offer him your name and extend a hand to greet him, sweetly mouthing “and you are?”

he shakes your hand with a firm grasp, stirring away the sudden void in his brain and swallowing the lump on his throat that hindered his words. “Ghost.” easy detachment. his gruff voice reverberates in the space as he repeats the orders in his head, the sense of doubt starting to cloud his judgement. keep to yourself. maybe the job won’t be as bad as he thought.

been a bit obsessed with this idea so i decided to write it and see how it goes.

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wasteddmoondust · 4 days

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little family || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 1,258 words, single mom! reader, established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF, kid fic, maybe i just crave domesticity a/n: back to back fics like who is she... (had this in the drafts for a WHILE) omfg guys this was soooo crazy indulgent I'm gong crazy no i did not proof read but i hope you like it anway

Remus is just about to leave work when he gets the call. He sees your contact name pop up on his screen, Y/N <3.

"Hello?" he says when he picks up the call.

"Hi, Re," you reply. You voice sounds rushed and anxious. "Do you happen to be free today?"

"I am, love. What is it?" he asks softly, stopping in his tracks to listen to you.

"Something came up at work today that I have to stay and handle, could you pick up Lyla from daycare?"

Lyla, a little girl equivalent to a ball of sunshine. Though you had only been dating for over a year, he sees her as his own.

"Of course I will. I'll bring her back to yours?"

"Yes please, thank you so much. I'll buy takeout for dinner when I'm done. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go pick her up now."

He hears you heave a sigh of relief over the phone. "I appreciate you so much, I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

Remus reaches the daycare and realises he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He walks by the window and sees Lyla colouring in her classroom. She notices the movement and looks up from her drawing. He can't hear her through the window but she's jumping around and cheering at the sight of him, waving excitedly.

He waves back at her, smiling, then notices one of her teachers gesturing to meet her at the entrance.

She gets past the gate to the classroom, leaving Lyla behind. "Hi, I know you're here for Lyla but since you're not her mum I'm going to need your ID," she says pulling out a file from one of the shelves.

He pulls out his wallet and gives it to her and watches her scan a list of what seems to be names of parents of the children.

She takes a few seconds and finally says, "Ah yes, Remus Lupin. You're on her list. I'll get her for you." He watches the teacher look into the classroom and call Lyla.

And then he realises. He's on the list. He's on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare. You put him on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Lyla's voice. "Remoose!" she yells, running up to him.

"Hiya, angel," he says and picks her up. His heart melts as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck for a hug. "Mummy will join us later, but for now it's just you and me, okay?"

"We can watch TV?" she asks. "And then- then play toys?"

"Mhm, that sounds like a good plan," Remus replies, and they head to your home.

Later, you turn your key to your flat and open the door. You can hear the television playing a movie and the sound of your daughter's laughter. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room.

Remus is covered in the fake makeup from Lyla's child-friendly kit. His hair is also adorned with little flower hair clips. He sits cross-legged on the floor while she sits in his lap.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun without me, hm?" you say. Lyla jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately running to you.

"Mummy! Remus fetched me today!"

"I know, darling," you kiss her cheek. "I asked him to. Did he take good care of you?"

She nods aggressively. She runs back to Remus, who is already walking up to you.

"Well don't you look pretty today," you tease. He smiles and breathes a soft laugh.

"My makeup artist is talented. She's very serious about this," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You hungry? I can heat up dinner."

"That'd be great, and then it's time for this bug to go to bed," you pick up Lyla. "Isn't that right?"

She lays her head on your shoulder, visibly getting sleepy as it gets closer to her usual bedtime.

"Say good night to Remus?" you turn your body, so she faces him.

Remus bends down to kiss her hair, "Good night, angel."

Lyla slowly closes her eyes, "G'night..."

Putting your baby to bed goes smoothly, and she easily winds down as she is tucked into bed. She snuggles into her blanket and looks up at you.

"I like it when Remus fetches me from school," you hear her mumble.

You smile at that. "Really?"

She nods. "I really like Remus."

"I really like Remus too, darling."

"I think you get very happy around him, Mummy," she whispers. "You were not very happy last year, but now I see you be happy with him. So I'm happy."

You feel your heart do something. Jump? Lurch? Lyla was right, being a single parent comes with its challenges and you can admit a lot of late nights were spent biting your nails and wiping tears from your cheeks. You tried your best to prevent her from seeing you in that state, but you know she's observant enough for her age.

And that's why you're so thankful to have met Remus. He accepted you despite the fact you had a whole child. He saw you not only as you but also as the mother of your child. He understood that Lyla would always be a priority to you over romance (unlike most men you've met). Despite all its complications, he has been able to fit into your lives as if he's already meant to be there.

A prime example could be taken from today. Surely he could've said no to picking up Lyla from daycare, he's just her mother's boyfriend, after all. But he agreed and handled the rest.

"He does make me really happy," you say to her. "Does he make you happy too?"

"Mhm! He always plays with me and watches shows with me. He also hugs me and kisses me. He makes me happy. He's like my Daddy."

You chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart is going crazy at that. Somehow, you take the leap. "You want Remus to be your Daddy?"

"Can I call him my Daddy?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow," you say, and you wonder what his reaction would be.

"Okay, I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Mummy."

You kiss her forehead, "Good night, darling."

You walk out of her room to see Remus placing your plate of food on the table for you. Without saying anything, you approach him and hug him. He hugs you back.

He is silent for a while, swaying your body slowly as you hug. "You were in there for a while, what were you talking about?" he mumbles into your hair.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, chin resting on your chest. "I love you," you say.

He furrows his brows but nods anyway. "I love you, too."

"Lyla wants to call you her dad."

Remus stops swaying. What is he thinking?

"Okay," he says, simply.

You jerk your head back, "Really?"

"Of course, I love her too, you know. I'd be honoured."

Chuckling, you bury your head into his chest and squeeze him. You feel him press a kiss into your hair.

"We're like a little family," he whispers to you. And you can see it too. You, your daughter, and Remus altogether as one.

And there's honestly nothing you want more than that.

a/n: SO LIKE UM this has been in the drafts about the same time as the james one like i said this is just very very indulgent brainrot i still have plans for the james series!!!!!!! ty sm for your support <3 likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #zee writes

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rheya28 · 6 months

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Casa Del Rosario [ Filipino Inspired Restaurant ] ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Welcome to Casa Del Rosario, an old Spanish Colonial home turned restaurant that serves authentic and homestyle Filipino dishes from all around the Philippines(Sulani). Whether you are craving something sweet or savoury, a meal cooked by Lolo (Grandpa) Romy at Casa Del Rosario never disappoints and will always put a smile on your face.

Note: The exterior of Casa Del Rosario was very much inspired by Spanish Colonial homes in the Philippines. Although recently renovated, Casa Del Rosario's original architectural character and features remain. The original wood, stone, and ornamentation throughout the building were maintained and acted as inspiration for the rest of the interior. Modern elements, along with furniture pieces made by locals, were introduced to the interior to blend in with the original structure and materiality of the building.

The world of Sulani was chosen as a representation of the Philippines as it shares similar island characteristics and landscape (Especially where I lived as a child). I was hoping to place this build in a heritage town similar to where I lived, but sadly, we do not have that kind of world in the Sims so while Sulani does not accurately depict the environment I had in mind for this build, it is the closest to the Philippines as it was going to get.

DISCLAIMER: As mentioned previously, the exterior of this build was INSPIRED by Filipino Spanish colonial architecture and is by no means accurate! (though I tried really hard to)

Lastly, one of the reasons why I decided to create this build and create this narrative was because I was re-watching @oshinsimss Growing together let's play and was inspired by how she showcases Filipino culture in her game! Her storytelling is what pushed me to create this build and it turned out to be one of my favourites.

♥ Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ♥ Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ♥ Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ♥ Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ♥ Thank you to all CC Creators ♥ Please let me know if there's any problem with the build!

♥ SPEED BUILD VIDEO 0:02 Intro 0:46 Speed Build 14:02 Photos

♥ LOT DETAILS Lot Name: Casa Del Rosario Lot type: Restaurant Lot size: 30x20 Location: Sulani

♥ MODS: TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST: Awingedllama: Apartment Therapy Sooky: Vertical Oil Paintings (landscape ver) Charly Pancakes: Much, Maple & S Const. Pt 3, Soak Felixandre: Chateau (all), Colonial pt 2 3, Florence pt 1, London Exterior, Paris pt 1, Candelabra, Grove, Paris pt 1, Shop the look Harrie: Brownstone (all), Brutalist, Country, Shop the Look 1 & 2, Spoons pt 1 2 3, Jardane, Kyoto Felixandre x Harrie: Orjanic (all), Kichen, Tiny Twavellers TheClutterCat: Sunny Sundae pt 2 Pierisim: Coldbrew, MCM pt 3, Oak house pt 1 2 3, Unfold, Winter Garden Max20: Poolside lounge pack Charly pancakes x Pierisim: Precious Promises Syboulette: Sandrine Tuds: Cross, Ind

NOTE: i have not uploaded this build in the gallery yet, i will upload it asap

♥Tray File: Available on my Patreon ♥Origin ID: Applez ♥Twitter: Rheya28__ ♥Tiktok: Rheya28__ ♥Patreon: Rheya28 ♥Youtube: Rheya28__

#ts4 #sims 4 #thesims4 #sims #thesims #sims 4 builds #showusyourbuilds #sims 4 cc #builds #sims 4 screenshots #build #the sims 4 build #the sims 4 speed build

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 2 years

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thinking about what was up with Scully in How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, how she's noticeably tense from the very first moment even before she becomes exasperated, how she's a little fixated on the family group call in the morning, how she says she's not going to explore the house with Mulder but she does anyway because it's like she has to, almost a compulsion. it's not just wanting to be with him, it's not just the habit of it, it's not just that he took her keys (like a highschooler smh). she's a little manic. a little bit trying to distract herself. she's thinking of Naval base housing (familiar, supposed to be safe) and miraculous healing — the one she got and the one her daughter didn't. she's distracted and trying to distract herself from that distraction by finding another, and what distraction more natural than following Mulder into yet another ill-advised investigation?

it doesn't help much, though; she's on edge, trying not to let her grief control her, and there's a whole well of emotion bubbling under the surface. it shows in how hard she jumps, how strongly she reacts when Mulder jumpscares her even though she'd been looking directly at him the entire time — she looks for a split second like she's about to cry from startlement (which, to his credit, Mulder seems to notice and reaches out to touch her, like comfort or like apology or smth). it shows in her jitters, the way she panics and fumbles her gun and shakes all over. any other time of the year, any other situation, she would be more composed, more in control of herself; now, underlying tension and grief and pain is about shaking her apart.

it may not be at the forefront of her mind, but it's there within her, taking up so much of her emotional capacity that she can't handle separation from Mulder — she's almost clingy, at first and at the very end of the episode, similarly to in Beyond the Sea, actually —, can't handle the phenomena she can't explain. she's so frightened that she passes out, which, to be fair HTGSC is a comedy episode so that's gotta be taken into account, but also... she's just scared, and anxious, and the aching inside her won't go away and she's got to talk to her family in the morning and act like she isn't reliving the few days she had with her little girl, like she doesn't on some level begrudge her brother and sister-in-law's happiness, like she's perfectly alright just the same as any of them.

she's worn down, a bit, and the ghosts are the last straw. the only time we ever see her relaxed, at all, without that tension tight in her shoulders and face, is when she faints. the vision, whatever, that they're put through on Christmas Eve, 1998, is the last thing she can handle. she's often afraid for Mulder, or because of him, but the last time she was afraid OF Mulder was in May of '96 (Wetwired) and then, she'd been out of her right mind, affected by subliminal messaging; but maybe she's not in her right mind now, either, maybe she's just finally going insane — they both are — because that would be better than these ghosts and nightmares and blood. she's coming apart at the seams, a little bit, frayed at the edges and starting to fall apart. and because this isn't technically work, not anymore (which is another loss in itself), she doesn't HAVE to hold herself together the way she would if they were working a case. she can be terrified, she can be raw, she can be vulnerable enough to tremble where it can be seen and to show up at Mulder's door because she can't sleep after everything.

she's still trying to distract herself, and maybe he even recognizes that, albeit a little bit late; better late than never.

#re: my last reblog #Lu rambles #txf #the x files #txf s6 #meta finding tag #msr #dana scully #fox mulder #how the ghosts stole christmas #it always hits hard how uncharacteristically TERRIFIED scully seems for most of the episode #she's such a mess she just needs a hug 🥺#also #usermoody #bc you mentioned htgsc earlier abdjdjsjsj #SOZ FOR MY RUNON SENTENCES GUYS i wrote this while watching tv with my sister and trying to jot down my thoughts #my meta has no regard for grammatical conventions

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angiecatz · 5 months

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I Beg Your Mercy

Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader

Tags: Smut, Hardcore Smut, Rough Sex, Face Slapping, Choking Gun Kink, Oneshot, Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Abuse, Mutal Obsession, Mutal Yandere

W.C: 2.1k

Summary: The one where Ghost is an obsessive stalker, but jokes on him because so is the reader. And you are just as eager to please him as he is to hurt you.

My soul is my loss, I'm well hung from your cross

Click.

The sound of a camera shutter.

Again.

Click.

You didn't particularly know why you preferred to use this kind of camera. The vintage kind that is, something from the 80s. It wasn't even one of those fancy Polaroid cameras that printed. It was just an old camera covered in peeling-off stickers.

The quality isn't great, which was to be expected. As you flipped through the photos you could just barely make out his form in the crowd. But it was him, and it didn't matter how well he blended in. You could pick him out from a crowd of a million.

You smiled as you looked through the photos. There he was. You couldn't see his face, you had yet to get any of those, just his closely cropped blonde hair and the expanse of his shoulders. In another setting, you would have felt guilty. You were quite the creep taking an obsessive amount of photos of some random guy. You didn't feel guilty as you watched him, because you knew he watched you too.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, the moonlight would catch his blue eyes just right and would reveal his position. You stretched and closed your eyes. It was fun pretending like you were some naive woman blissfully unaware of his habits. But you knew. God did you know.

The dude behind the counter always looked at you strangely when you brought your little SD card. You didn't mind, you slid it over the counter and asked him to print them for you. You knew he could see the photos you had taken. What was he going to do to call the cops? Was it a crime to be in love, officer?

You hummed and drummed your fingers against the counter. Out of the very corner of your eye, a blurry shadow darted by. You tried to stop yourself from smiling, still, the corners of your mouth twitched upwards. You leaned forward over the high counter and pretended like you were just resting against it.

Take me, take me in your arms my love and rape me

You entered your apartment with the file of photos tucked carefully under your arm. You could have sworn you had locked your door when you left this morning. Oh well. You had probably just forgotten! Nothing was out of place. Not a single spot of dust. It was just how you left it. Well, except for the vague smell of lingering cologne…

Perfect, your closet was still locked. No matter how many times you had locked your front door only to find it unlocked, your closet always remained locked. You kept the key as close to your heart as you could while keeping it in a place no one could possibly steal it from without you knowing.

You dug around in your bra till you found the tiny metal key. The key was warm with your body heat as you slipped it into the hole.

Click.

You carefully and meticulously opened your closet so as to not disturb anything. You didn't have much, no matter how many times you followed him you could never find out where he lived. You always managed to lose him before then. What you did have, were the small gifts you would sometimes find on your welcome mat. That and your pictures.

You tore open the orange folder. You were excited to add some more photos to your shrine. You picked out only the very best ones and tucked the rest into a shoebox. You moved and reorganized some things, mostly you moved the small pile of bullet casings he had left for you to another spot.

There, after a lot of re-organization, it was perfect. You settled down on the floor and crossed your legs. You would be content just looking at the shrine you had built.

Don't hide behind your rage I know you love me, and always will

You have done it! After months upon months of trailing him, you had found his apartment! Well… Not his apartment exactly. But the building his apartment was in. You had yet to figure out which number was his.

The building was on the rougher side of the city. Trash piled up outside the fence and people chained smoked left and right. A rather large rat ran across your path as you followed him. You paid none of it any mind, Your vision was tunneled in on his leather jacket. When he had entered the building you lost track of him. You were too close to give up now.

So you snapped a quick photo of the outside and headed in. There was no bellboy or no buzzer to ring. You waltzed right in. You had a plan. You would start from the highest floor and make your way down. The elevator didn't play any music and occasionally the light would flicker.

That's where your plan ended. On floor number four. You walked the halls and looked at every door you passed. They all looked the same, the only thing different was the last number. You trusted yourself to know which door was his when you came across it. You would look at the number and fill it in your heart. You just knew it.

You're my possession, of that my love there really is no question

You had made it all the way to room 303 when someone's body weight slammed against you. Your head ricocheted off the concrete that made up the building walls. A high-pitched whistle rang through your ears and your vision doubled. Your camera tumbled sadly to the ground as your hands flew up to cradle your head. It was crushed under someone's boot. Parts of it popped off and rolled down the ugly barf green carpet.

Just as your head was finally making sense of what it was experiencing, a cold hand wrapped around your throat and you were slammed back against the wall. Your hands now had a new goal, they wrapped and scratched uselessly against the sleeves of a jacket. A leather jacket.

Your mouth fell open as your lungs tried to expand with air that wouldn't come. The hand squeezed harder and all the pressure went straight to your eyes. You could have sworn some of the capillaries in your eyes had burst. Your vision became dotted here and there as you raised your head to see your attacker.

The sight of a skull made all the fear leave your body. You slumped against his hold as your eyes scanned over every detail of the mask.

“Well, aren't you a little brat?” He said. In some half-alive fuzzy state, you realized in a sense of euphoria that this was the first time you had ever heard his voice up close. And the first time he had ever spoken directly to you.

You tried to shake your head as best as you could. Ghost just squeezed your windpipe and forced a guttural choking noise out of you. His knee found its place in between your legs.

“I've been watching you. Every second of the day. Even when you think you're following me, I'm still watching.” He leaned in closer to you, merely an inch away. If it wasn't for the hand keeping you in place you would have lurched forward and slammed your lips against him.

His other hand found the waistband of your jeans and plunged under it. His finger slipped past your underwear and found your heat. His fingers danced just around your clit in a taunting way. You bucked against his hand and it earned you such wonderful friction. You did it again and again so you were humping his hand. Electric sparks filled your stomach, never before had it felt like this. No man could ever compare, no toy. Ghost just watched and stood still as you fucked yourself on his hand. You paid no mind to the fact anybody could walk by as you chased your own pleasure. He pulled his hand out of your jeans and you whined at the loss.

“Ple-A--es-” It came out strangled. So much so that even you could barely make out the word yourself. You weren't asking him to let you go. Anything but that. Please choke me harder. Please hit me. Please just love me. Love me Love me. Please just give me anything, anything at all. It had the opposite effect of what you wanted. He yanked his hand away from you, and you fell into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Look up at me.” Ghost demand. You obliged without so much as a second thought. He placed his hand under your chin and yanked you up onto your knees. He hummed at that. You watched with wide eyes as his other hand came to rub himself through his jeans, “Such A good little bitch aren't you.”

Your mouth watered at the thought. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything in your life. This was it, the moment you had been waiting months for. You wanted him to use you. You leaned forward and nuzzled against his thigh.

“Please Ghost-” Your plea was cut short as his palm made contact with your cheek. Your head jerked to the side and searing white pain exploded.

“No.” He growled, “You don't get to speak.”

Against your will, tears welled up in your eyes. You could do that. If he didn't want to speak you wouldn't. Not a single squeak or cry of pain. Nothing. You would be deadly silent. There was a click that made you freeze and squeeze your eyes shut. Cold metal pressed against the pain in your cheek.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

You did. Ghost was still rubbing himself through his jeans, the only thing different was the gun he had aimed right at your face. You don't know what kind, you have never been into guns. But it's a sleek black and his gloved finger is on the trigger.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Almost as soon as you do his mask is pulled up just past his nose and a thick glob of spit falls directly onto your tongue. You pulled back your tongue just as his hand slammed over your mouth so hard it knocked painfully against your teeth. He didn't even have to ask you to swallow it. When he was satisfied he pulled his hand back. You opened wide and stuck your tongue out to show him just how good of a girl you could be.

With one hand Ghost worked open his belt. He tapped the tip of the gun against your tongue a couple of times. You leaned forward and licked a long strip down the shaft of it. Ghost let out a low groan as he freed himself from his jeans.

Maybe, if you showed him how good you could suck off his gun he would fuck your mouth with his cock. You just had to prove yourself.

“Oh good girl,” He grumbled as you took his gun into your mouth. The girth of it stretched your mouth, at least you didn't have to worry about your teeth. He lazily stroked himself as you tried to take the gun further. The metal of it was cold and all too hard. It hit painfully against your throat and caused you to reel back. Ghost didn't stop stroking himself as you choked and coughed, if anything he picked up speed.

“C’mon. Take it.”

You opened your mouth again and took the increasingly familiar weight of it back. You hollowed out your cheeks and started to move your head back and forth. You kept your hands firmly at your side.

Ghosts' fingers twitched against the trigger, his cold blue eyes never left you. Saliva dribbled down your chin and decorated the carpet with dark spots. “Oh fuck. Just like that, good girl.”

His hand quickened. Ghost thrusted into his fist a couple of times with a groan before all of his movement stuttered and came to a halt. The gun was yanked from your mouth just as he came. He painted your face white, and thick globs of his spend landed in your mouth. He shook with a hiss as he finished. You kept your eyes closed.

When you opened them again, he was gone.

My better half it's true, Has seen the darker side of you, Innocence stripped away, At least I have the brighter fate

#cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader

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