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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 1 year ago

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Her Song (Killshot, Part 3.)

Description: The occupation as a member of SAS came along with many restrictions and rules one had to follow to a dot. It could get even more intense for a soldier carrying a lot of trauma and not enough self-love, if any at all. Thank God, this lonely soldier meets a lonely florist one day, and as they say - animals have the best judge of character.

Part Summary: During an unexpected visit from your favourite military man, the florist starts showing signs of the flu, as is common throughout autumn. It's up to Ghost to become the best sous-florist Soho had ever seen.

A/N: I swear to god, this part was not coming along. I hope you'll have fun with it, but I just feel like the words and correct sentence order weren't coming along at all. Also, Cassie is here to make a guest appearance, we love future Mrs. MacTavish.

Word count: 6.5K

Tagging: @poohkie90

Master list: H E R E | Ghost's tapes: P L A Y L I S T

It was strange to get used to - to see a very tall, mysterious masked man walking into your flower shop regularly, always bringing two cups of chai latté and various baked goods. Ghost'd been coming irregularly at first, always making your day a whole lot brighter - after some time, he started coming around your lunch break so the two of you had time to chat and exchange horrible puns and one-liners.

Interesting thing to note to self - Ghost never bought the same type of pastry twice. The two of you started experimenting with what Grind On had to offer, tasting different flavours, fillings, types of dough and other ingredients, debating whether it was a hit or miss. Some of them were really good, and some of them turned out horrendous. Each time you'd spot the known baklava and a matching black hoodie, you walked to meet him in the entrance if you didn't have a client on your hands, holding the door open for him as Bonnie enthusiastically greeted Ghost back to Rosemary's. Needless to say, Bonnie was all over Ghost and the longer the two knew each other, the stronger their bond became. After some time, Bonnie pouted anytime she spotted Ghost packing his stuff.

And one autumn day, she didn't even bother with pouting - the puppy simply rolled on its back and played dead. As Bon continued to lie on the ground dramatically, you two couldn't help but snicker.

"The two of you had been training hard, huh?" - Simon asked as you both watched the dog doing its best not to move, blowing its cover by looking at the two of you - her eyes jumped from Ghost to you, back and forth. Ghost was referring to your continuous attempts at teaching Bonnie all the basic commands - sit, give me five, lie down and to the leg, to be specific. The two of you even paid for a training course, which Bonnie loved - she loved obstacle courses and playing with other dogs and their owners. She was a social butterfly, that much was obvious to you.

"Nu-uh." - You dismissed categorically, shaking your head. - "I got nothing to do with her theatrics this time. Whatever this is, I didn't teach it to her." "What are you trying to achieve here, missy?" - Ghost wondered under his breath, leaning down to pet Bonnie on her tummy - she did her best to continue playing dead, but the wiggling of her tail gave her out. After Simon sat back up, a snicker of yours caught his attention - his stare was borderline offended, underlined with amusement as he turned his head to you.

"As I said, she's growing up to be a total heartthrob and a heartbreaker. Look at yourself, Ghost, you've fallen right into her schemes." - You explained in a whisper, dramatically pulling out the bag with her treats. The man scoffed in reaction to your action. "You'll do her this dirty? Look at her, she's doing her best. This is a new low, even for you." - Ghost noted, rolling his eyes playfully. "Watch and learn." - As you said this, your hand shook the bag. With portrayed drama, you pulled out one of her favourite chewing sticks, waving it around. - "Woah, it's so unlucky that I have this bag full of treats for Bonnie... I just wanted to give her one because she's been such a good girl, but look at her. My oh my."

In that instant, Bon got on her feet and ran to you, barking at you so you'd notice she was right there, alive and well. The shit-eating grin on your face was priceless, making Ghost lower his head in defeat. "Point still stands, Y/N, just look at the lass." - The man continued, putting his hoodie and backpack on. It became a recurring thing - he'd always take it off to make himself more comfortable. He rarely wore short-sleeved shirts, but he'd roll up his sleeves from time to time. There was a pretty intricate tattoo on his left arm, but you've never pointed it out. Hadn't even asked about its meaning either. While the base of your friendship was growing strong, it was still hard to determine where Ghost's 'that's enough of that' limit starts. "Oh, admit it, Mr. Military Man. Bon has you wrapped around her pretty little finger, my little minx." - With that, you finally gave the Bonniethe snack, so you and Ghost would have time to say goodbye as you walked him to the entrance. - "So, see you on Friday?" "Negative, ma'am. I got a meeting to attend, unfortunately." "What a tragedy, sir, you won't be able to get your regular dose of humour." "Speaking of which, you hadn't finished the joke earlier. You owe me one." "Right." - You nodded, expression turning serious. Simon felt this is either gonna be really good or very fucking bad. - "What do you call a shipment of military-issued T-Rexes?" "No fucking clue. What do I call that?" "Small arms." - You added triumphantly, grinning at your own joke. The wave of cringe hit Simon so hard he had to shake his head and take a deep breath.

"Fucking hell, Y/N. Maybe it's for the best I won't get my regular dose of your humour on Friday, this one'll haunt me in my dreams." "Oh, boo-hoo. Can you imagine know how hard did I have to dig for this fucking joke? I'm the funniest person you've met, just admit it already." "Haven't said you aren't." - The man answered silently, hovering over you as your hand rested on the doorknob.

So far, you weren't able to guess how Ghost felt about you. Yes, you concluded he enjoys your presence - he wouldn't be coming as much as he has if that wasn't the case. The two of you regularly met up during your lunch breaks for well over a month by that point. On the other hand, there was the fact that he still didn't entrust you with his civil name, his age, his phone number or other details you were anxious to know about the person you fancied. You weren't losing any hopes as of now, because there was something in the air. You didn't have the guts to name whatever it was, but the electricity was buzzing and chemical reactions were crackling. In moments when he looked at you like this, your breath hitched and your blood started to boil. Sometimes, it had gotten so bad that your body shivered and your lips started tingling ever so gently - that's how desperate you were to kiss him, to let his taste and smell intoxicate your brain, making you unable to concentrate on anything other than him. Oh, yes, another note to self - Ghost smelled so fucking good, with or without cologne. And dear God, didn't you love it when he wore his combat t-shirts so you could gawk at his body? Sometimes, you were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose. Once, Ghost came straight from the base - sweaty, after a training, dressed up in his tight combat gear. Your brain refused to compute on said occasion as he marched around the room, going on a tangent about something (not a clue what he was going off about) - your eyes were glued to his lovely bottom, it was a miracle you hadn't drooled all over your counter. Last note to self - his ass was very lovely.

"Say it, then. Admit that I'm the funniest person you've met." - You whispered, the corners of your lips turning into a devilish smile. "You know I can't." - Ghost opposed, ensuring his hoodie was zipped up to his ching. "You can and you will. It'll stay between us, not a word in front of Cassie, pinky promise - Johnny wouldn't get to know." "MacTavish is hot on your heels, ma'am. All he needs is a sprog of his own and his dad-joke arc will be complete, unfortunately for you." "You're no fun." - You mumbled, pretending to be upset over the dispute. Simon was smiling under the mask, knowing that in his eyes, Johnny's awful jokes wouldn't ever be as good as yours. With that, you unlocked the door, holding it open for Ghost. - "Hope the meeting will go alright." "It's just regular debriefing, Y/N, don't get worked up over essentially nothing - trust me, I'll be alright." "Sorry for worrying, then, Jesus Christ, Ghost. Can't you just take a compliment? Or me being worried for once?" "Where would be the fun in that, love?" - The man shrugged as he walked backwards, still looking at you while leaving.

You both loved and hated when Ghost did that - no way Ghost didn't know what effect this nickname in particular had. Sure - it was just a common phrase, and you've heard it a million times from your grandpas and uncles, but still... It detonated a bomb of butterflies in your stomach each fucking time. "Wouldn't be as fun if I didn't tease you, would it, now?" - Ghost let out smoothly, finally stepping out into the street. "See ya!" - You cried out, waving at him, watching as he disappeared behind the corner. Since Bonnie was too busy chewing on her snack, she didn't even catch that Ghost was gone. With you, it was a different story - smiling dreamily, you still stood in the opened door, leaning your burning cheek into the cold glass. Ghost had to know what he was doing to you and revelled in seeing you getting flustered, overthinking everything he said and getting giddy over each compliment or phrase that didn't have a meaning strictly given by the topic of conversation. - "... You fucking twat."

The rest of your shift went as usual - it was pretty calm since Rosemary's didn't get much traffic on Wednesdays. Things, however, started to feel a bit funky on Thursday - as if the world around you got a bit fuzzy and your eyes constantly burned, making you sleep throughout most of your day. You've taken Bon for regular walks as she was used to, but only after putting on a ridiculous amount of clothes. The first time you sneezed you knew you were doomed - your scheduled autumn flu just arrived in full force. Since you didn't have any shifts throughout the weekend because Cathy needed to up her hours, you decided to push through Friday regardless. Due to your state, however, you didn't have time or energy to prepare yourself for defeating said flu. As you gulped down on a painkiller, you noted there were only a couple of them left - when in the fuck were you supposed to get more or shop for veggies, tissues or cough syrup?

Usually, you liked to deem your work ethic flawless - on that particular Friday, however, you were sluggish and out of it entirely. Orders you'd complete in five minutes took you fifteen, your fingers weren't bending properly and your whole body ached. It was around three in the afternoon, less than three hours until closing time when you heard a familiar voice calling out to you. The man could immediately tell something was wrong - you didn't notice him as he strolled down the alley, you didn't acknowledge him until he stood in front of you. Bonnie, as usual, was all over him, barking loudly and happily. Even your attempted shush was weak and pathetic; Bon's barking made your headache even worse, each sound echoing inside your head. Usually, you'd gush over Ghost's presence - especially after you've been told he wouldn't make it on Friday. This time, you've just waved him off and turned around to have a big fat sneeze. The man stopped in his tracks, narrowed his eyes and watched you moan lightly, supporting the small of your back before making careful steps, and slugging around the shop.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing here?" "I don't know... Working? Like any normal person with a 9-5?" - You reiterated, rolling your eyes at the question before blowing your nose and coughing into the sleeve of your sweater. "Normal people with a 9-5 don't look like their rigour mortis just kicked in." "Very funny, Ghost, very funny." "I've been told I'm hilarious." - The man muttered, turning the sign on the door to 'closed'. - "It would be hilarious to pack your stuff and go home now to work on curing your flu, wouldn't it? That's sounds very fun, doesn't it?" "I don't think I appreciate your sense of humour." - You muttered back, turning the sign back to 'opened'. You could see his eyebrows shoot up and eyes narrowing even more, if possible. - "How was that... Whatever mumbo jumbo you had today? What was it again? Everything alright?"

"The debriefing went as it always does, that's why I've made it today. All good, they even let me off sooner. What's not good, however, is you." "Ouch. That was cold." - You sighed unenthusiastically and checked your watch. - "If you'd like to lay into me, just go home and rest. I have three hours to go and if you're not here to help..." "I might. You know what? I might." - Ghost mumbled under his breath, walking behind the counter to put his backpack next to yours, taking off his sweatshirt as he seamlessly moved around. You had a hard time believing what you've been looking at, so you got stuck watching as Ghost put one of the aprons on. Funnily enough, there is only one remaining - a pastel pink one. It looked cartoonish on a man of his figure with his 6'3 height, broad shoulders, sculptured muscles and menacing posture... It left very little to the imagination, revealing more than it covered.

"What are you up to?" - You asked, genuinely not catching his drift. "You said I can either stop laying into you and leave or become your sous-florist. I've made my decision." "You know jack shit about flowers, you're in the military." - You argued back as if Ghost didn't have a clue about what his occupation was, your voice becoming weaker and raspier with each word. "I'm well aware, cadet." - The man sighed, entwining his palms behind his back and straightening up, gaining at least two extra inches in height. As he watched you with his eyes narrowed and eyebrows knitted together, the fact that he's a high-ranking geezer in the SAS suddenly started making sense. The shift in atmosphere gave you goosebumps. - "We are going to cover each other's backs and ensure the mission ends in success, do you understand? You need my help - I'm here to help. I don't leave my soldiers behind. When this is done, I'll take you home and ensure you rest up - that's an order. Are we clear, cadet?" "Ghost..." "I said, are we clear, cadet?" - Ghost ignored, furrowing even more if that was possible. The stare in his eyes got burning, almost too comfortable to maintain, so you turned your head away, looking on your shoulder. "S-sir, yes, sir." - You got out before you sneezed again, meowling as the sneeze shook your head. God, you needed a bed, a painkiller, a shitload of napkins and sleep.

And so, you were forced to share your workspace with a rather terrifying military man because he refused to leave. No matter how many times you rebutted his decision, Ghost just shut you down with his military mumbo-jumbo; after your thirteenth try, you gave in to having him as your sous-florist. And, to your surprise... Ghost was quite handy with flowers. Little did you know Ghost learned most of it by simply watching you work - all the hours of wondering about your craft, of watching your fingers skillfully tie bows and fixing decorations in place were coming in handy. Putting theory into practice was a different story, but he was handy enough to make it work. Unbeknownst to both of you, there was also a side of him that longed to create art - he never had the time nor the chance to explore this side of himself due to his father's whims and unstable environment, but something about the process of creation calmed him down, grounded him, made him relaxed. Maybe this was something he could concentrate on after his therapist recommends him to find a therapeutic activity again. So far, he'd tried playing basketball and boxing, but neither of those had ever brought him as much peace. Sure, his flowers couldn't be compared to yours, but under your careful watch and a load of your help, he was bringing together acceptable flowers. Ghost hadn't come close to creating a bouquet, neither did he have the balls to do so - trying to tie a fucking ribbon around three roses without shouting profanities was hard enough.

"You know what?" - It was a whisper coming out of your mouth as you finally locked the fucking door of the shop. Ghost sat down and let out a long and tired sigh, massaging his face with his fingers. No exaggeration, he looked as if he just finished running a fucking marathon. "No, but I bet you'll enlighten me nonetheless, huh?" "Oh, haha. I was about to compliment you, but you're being a pain in my ass." "Apologies, ma'am. Go for it." "In case your military career fails, drop your CV here. You're not bad at this, I'll intercede in your name." "Why, thank you. I might do that nonetheless. Got the impression I'm a good florist myself." - The man joked back, watching you stumbling around in your apron - you were unable to tie the knot on your back and since there was a decent chance you had a fever too, you've been walking around while moaning silently. Even through the circumstances, Simon's ears perked up at first as he listened to the soft, helpless sounds escaping your mouth. God. He'd give anything to hear them as he'd hover over you, leaning down to kiss you while his fingers would... Clearing his throat, Simon stood up to walk behind you, undoing the apron. While he was at it, he gently smoother your forehead - you were sweaty as hell, and burning up also. Way more than he'd imagine.

"That's it, we've got to get you to bed and make you tea." "I think you might have a point here, actually."

Walking you home felt like a superhuman task - Bonnie was out of her mind, happily running around and barking, because your state forced the both of you to be inside the shop for the entire day. You've done your best to at least let her walk around the street, but that wasn't comparable to going on a walk. You were holding onto his elbow, feverishly looking around. You've been entirely out of order, that much was plainly obvious - all it took for Simon to determine was the veil cast over your eyes. Usually, there was this excited spark in your look, mainly when you smiled at him (which you did a good portion of the time you've spent together), but now, there was nothing. Your eyes were just aimlessly jumping from place to place as fever took over you, disconnecting you from reality. Getting you on and off the bus as well as up multiple flights of stairs was tricky. With all the remaining might you've had in you, you were trying to help Simon get into your flat, but he still had to wrap his arm around your waist to support you, carrying Bon on his other arm.

Usually, Simon would wait on the doorstep for you to invite him into your flat. It was just a formality, something so very dumb, he insisted on. That way, he'd be positive you actually wanted him in your personal space - yet due to your state, Simon spat on his personal set of rules. He waited until you fished out your keys, mumbling some mumbo-jumbo under your breath. Based on the expression on your face, Simon was pretty sure that whatever you were talking about was very important to you at the moment but he was unable to decipher the transmission. Waving your palms around, you cleared your throat and turned to him.

"I said, keep your shoes on." - You repeated weakly. - "It's fucking messy nonetheless. Also, would you be a doll and get me a painkiller and a glass of water? It's in the cupboard above the sink. I'll go ahead and change into something homey." "If I'd be a doll?" - Simon repeated after you, snickering. First, he set Bon on the ground, petting her before she ran off somewhere. - "Wouldn't you prefer some tea? Your voice sounds hoarse." "Well..." - You stuck your head out of what Simon believed was your bedroom, clearly dressed only in your bra and the pair of jeans that made your bum stand out nicely (yes, this pair was Simon's favourite, in fact). Right after, you slipped an oversized shirt over your head and started taking the bra off. Even though he'd love to stare at you like a deer in the headlights, Simon made the adult decision to clear his throat and look for the painkiller. - "To make tea, I'd have to have tea." "Are you fucking joking?" - Simon responded before he could stop himself. "About?" "Not having tea at home." "Why would I joke about not having tea at home?" "You live in the middle of London. Don't know if you're aware of that, but us Brits love tea." "Ghost, you're like really pretty and all, I like you a lot, but..." - You started off, making his eyes narrow - until he realized you were just trying to put his harangue to end. The tone of your voice made Simon lose himself for a bit before you continued with what you had to say.- "Please, give me the fucking painkiller."

"Yes, ma'am." - If you were fully conscious, you'd surely notice the warmth spreading on Simon's face, the baklava poorly hiding his smile as well as the pure adoration in his eyes - now, however, you just smiled at him and gulped the painkiller down. - "It was the last one in the package. Do you have some more hidden around? I could fetch them for you." - Ghost offered quietly, leaning his elbow into the doorframe as he gazed at you lovingly. Price would surely call him a lovesick puppy. "Oh-oh." "Oh-oh?" - Simon repeated after you, this time in pure disbelief. So you didn't have tea, you didn't have painkillers... Was there anything you did have? - "Do you have literally anything of use inside your flat?" - As he asked, you lifted your eyes up to him, your bottom quivering slightly. "Last week had been tough, okay? I was feeling horrible, I felt like I'm running behind, I didn't have time to..." "Me." - Simon whispered, smoothing your shoulder quickly to make sure you wouldn't start crying on him - his palm ghosted over your skin. - "That's what you'd say if you weren't sick. I'd like to think I'm quite useful. What's your conclusion on this statement, ma'am?" "That it's fucking sad." - You nodded to yourself, turning around to walk towards your bed. Slowly, you made sure you'd before you started to take your pants off. - "That fact that you have to make my own jokes for me? Blasphemy. What am I here for if you can't even joke around with me? You can talk to yourself at this point."

"Nonsense." - The man shut down immediately, watching as you started to tuck under the blanket. - "None of the jokes come across as good when you're not the one saying them. You're the funniest person I've met." - Now, you gave Ghost a smug smile - with a grunt, you laid on your back and let him help with tucking you in. "Ha, suck it, Johnny! I fucking knew it." "Don't you blow my cover, deal, ma'am?" "I wouldn't do that, sir. If you'd like to hang around for a bit, it's fine with me. Do whatever you'd like, eat whatever you find, make yourself some coffee... I'd... Feel safer, knowing I'm not alone in here. If you'd like to order a take-out, just take some of my money, I owe you one." "As you wish, Y/N - about the last part, however, negative." - Simon whispered, smoothing your forehead for the last time. - "I'll take care of everything, okay? Don't you worry." "Sounds good, Ghost. Thank you."

As Simon promised, he set out to do - he started by creating an extensive shopping list of everything you might need to recover from your illness... And dear fucking Jesus, there wasn't anything inside the cupboards, the fridge and the pantry sure had seen better days as well. You clearly weren't joking when you said you hit a rough patch. A lot of daily necessities were seemingly missing, ranging from tea, painkillers, and cough syrup all the way to ingredients for cooking a simple meal. Or it was caused by Simon's routines - most of the things he considered daily necessities didn't necessarily have to be on your list.

When the list was completed, Simon kneeled in your hall and clicked his tongue a few times - the furry ball of love was running to him in an instant, holding the edge of a small blanket for babies between her fangs, as if she wanted to show it to him. It looked like Bonnie was particularly fond of this piece of cloth. "Oh, that's just wonderful, babes, is that yours?" - The man murmured, melting at the sight of Bonnie as he petted her gently. His brain was just starting to get a grip - he was inside your flat with you sleeping in the next room. It was easy to let his mind wander a bit, to imagine he'd be putting his shoes in the same shoe rack, hanging his jackets on the same hanger, and sitting beside you on your small sofa with a floral pattern. - "What about a walk, huh? A lass like you needs a long stretch, doesn't she?"

Five minutes later, with your keys attached to his keychain, the duo stepped into the London wilderness. He'd been well-travelled when it came to London, but your part of town was a mystery to him. Finding a fucking supermarket was hard enough, let alone the fucking drug store. As Simon recited everything he deemed necessary to the pharmacist, her expression was becoming more and more stoic the longer the interaction went on. Simon could see the situation being a bit humorous - a 6'3 man with baklava hiding holding a puppy in one of his arms while simultaneously holding three paper bags coming from a nearby supermarket in the other, buying almost two other bags of various medical stuff. The lady, her name was Marianne, was close to asking Simon what the fuck does he need all this for, but she decided against it in the end. After getting Bonnie a cup of her own ice cream (she went crazy for it, seemingly not tasting it until that day), the duo set on their way home. Simon brought you enough tea for an entire month, fresh pastries, butter he deemed the best, a load of permanent food (canned beans were just the beginning) and some veggies, fruits and other goods he was pretty sure you'd find use for. Your lunch breaks gave him a good idea about what you liked concerning food.

When the two arrived back at the flat, it was silent and dark - only your light snoring gave away that someone was inside. - "How about you run off while I clean up and cook something for mummy, hm?" - Simon whispered to Bonnie while letting her off the leash, watching as she ran straight for her blanket, jumping on the sofa right after. Due to her constant whimpering and her attempts to give Simon the remote, he concluded she'd like to watch something. So Bonnie was into TV, huh? He'd never figure this out on his own. Letting music play silently in the background, Simon started preparing the kitchen so he'd have somewhere to cook his famous veggie broth. In this process alone, he completely reorganised it, making sure everything was easily visible and accessible, and clean as if you just brought it home from the convenience store. Simultaneously, he started preparing you a cup of hot tea and the mentioned coughing syrup, because the longer he'd been in the flat, the more coughing came from behind the closed door. And it didn't sound good at all.

Coming into your room, your back was to be turned to the door. It was hard to say, honestly - you seemingly disappeared inside your enormous bed, hiding under an even bigger, thick blanket. Carefully, Simon set the cup on your night table along with the dose of syrup, sitting on the bed with utmost caution. You didn't seem to notice him, dead asleep. Carefully, Simon stuck his palm under the blanket so smooth your shoulder, making you moan with displeasure - goosebumps immediately formed on your skin, informing Simon that the painkiller might've lowered the fever, but you still had chills. "Hey there, sleepyhead... Delivery service. It'll be just a moment and then I'll fuck off, promise." - Ghost whispered, waiting for you to lay down on your back before carefully helping you to sit up.

"What time is it?" - You wondered, accepting the warm tea from Simon. It wasn't boiling hot anymore but it wasn't ice cold either, it was just the right temperature for you to drink half a cuppa in one go. "Still pretty early, you can sleep after you take some of this." - Ghost smiled with his eyes, shaking the small plastic cup of syrup in front of your eyes. "Where did... Where did you get all this? I specifically remember telling you I'm out of tea... And I know I checked for cough syrup yesterday." "Bonnie really wanted to go out for a walk, so we stopped by a few shops, nothing grand." "And what's that wonderful smell?" - You pushed on relentlessly, eyeing Ghost with raising suspicion. "Vegetable broth." "Ghost!" - You squealed, but regretted it very soon - with silent cusses, you started to massage your throat. - "Did you at least take my wallet to pay for my fucking purchases?" "Wanna know the total?" "So you didn't, fucking amazing. Also - yea? Of course, let me pay you right back." "It's precisely... Don't worry about it. It's my treat. How did you phrase it? I don't want a single dime." "Are you insane?" "Been told I am." - Ghost snickered, ending the discussion. - "I gotta go check on how's the broth doing, I'll bring you a bowl when it's done, yeah?" "Fine, wacko. Thank you so much for doing... All of this for me. I can't appreciate it enough." "It's nothing, stinky face. Rest up." "And Ghost?" - You called out just before Simon walked out of the door, so he held it open to hear whatever else you had on your mind. - "I love this song, could you leave the door ajar for me? I'm sure Bonnie loves it too. Pretty sure it's on top of the list of our favourites."

Simon didn't answer your request, he just did as you asked him to. After checking on the broth, he wandered around the flat for a bit before mindlessly starting to clean up. Not that he'd find the flat dirty, it was pretty tidy actually, but he wanted to kill time somehow. In the process of folding clothes laying around into stacks (the military was to be blamed for that), including your fucking coat for some reason. He'd changed all the burned-out candles, done the dishes and started to put all the groceries where they seemingly belonged. After he was done with being the housewife, Simon started picking various books and other items lying around and did his best to put them in their place - books into the bookshelves, leaving various papers and documents lying on the coffee table for you to sort out.

After this, there were truly no chores to perform. The broth still had ten minutes to go and no matter how much Simon tried to resist, he couldn't but snoop around a bit. He went over the photos on your fridge - most of them seemed to be taken when you were out with your friends or family, having you smile at the camera or perform various grimaces, making the others either do the same or laugh happily. There was an old photo of you way back when - it had to be the yearbook photo because while you tried your best to smile, it was painfully obvious you were uncomfortable. There was one under the fridge, Simon noticed on accident, basically - as he bent to pick it up, the expression on his face froze.

It was the guy. The guy he tailed a month ago with his arm over your shoulder. You, seemingly enjoying the moment, were kissing the guy's cheek, your palm splayed all over his chest - one of the easiest ways to spot a dating couple based on picture only. As he turned it around, there was just a simple sentence handwritten in the corner - Billy and I, spring of '23. Simon's footing seemed to be unsteady all of a sudden. Was Billy your boyfriend, then? If he was, the two of you didn't seem to live together. Why was the heated argument in Rosemary's about? Maybe you've broke up recently and Billy was trying to weasel back into your life? Could this be the reason? If you had a sentimental attachment to Billy, though, you'd notice a photo of your sweetheart missing on the fridge. The photo wouldn't be lying under it, between all the dust and other mess that generally gathered in the kitchen, would it? As Simon tried to figure out what to do with the photo, his eyes wandered back to all the disorganized papers he found lying all over the flat.

There was an envelope - it wasn't big, presumably just normal mail. And the sender was named Wiliam. Could these two be connected? Could that be the same person? Against his better judgment, Simon pulled the letter out to read what this William guy wanted from you. Each word made his eyes widen and each line edged Simon to break something. By the time he was done reading the letter, he was nodding to himself, doing his best to keep on biting the inner side of his cheek. If he was connecting the dots correctly, Billy was definitely William. And William was a piece of shit. The throwaway line was starting to make a whole fucking more sense - she is a good judge of character, better than her mum anyways... What was apparent from the letter was that the two of you broke up some time ago - and Billy wasn't taking it well. That son of a whore called you so many names in the letter it was almost impressive - but he also belittled you, made sure you know how much of scum and whore you are to him and in the end asked to see you again. Well, it wasn't a request, came off as an order in Ghost's opinion. And well, as they say, and as far as Ghost could assume - it never takes too much from mental abuse to slip into physical. Based on the letter's stamp, it came three days ago. Billy wasn't done with you, it seemed - this man couldn't seemingly forget about you, in fact.

Ghost was standing in the middle of your living room, trying to keep his shit together. As Ghost once said to Johnny - choices have consequences. And Billy made a hell of a choice. Now, he regretted his decision to leave Billy off the hook. Simon should've tailed him longer. He should've got on the fucking bus with him and made sure to question him regarding you. Maybe pack a few good punches here and there, beating the everliving shit out of him as a warning of what's to come next if Billy even considers coming near you. It took all his will to put the letter and the photo on your coffee table and fish out his phone - Ghost wasn't too far from waking you up, asking you about Billy's address.

"Hey, Si, is everything okay?" - A familiar female voice answered as soon as the call connected. "Hey, Cass. Hope I haven't called at a bad time." "Not at all. Do you need anything? Did the debriefing go bad? Johnny said you aced it - like you always do." "Went as it usually does, you know the drill. Got a favour to ask you." "All ears, Si." - Cassie confirmed, officially stopping doing whatever she was paying attention to. "Y/N's really sick, so I helped her to get home from work - but I gotta be somewhere soon. Would you look after her for the night? I'd assume she's gonna be better tomorrow." - Simon explained, lying as if there was no tomorrow. He had to leave the flat, no matter how much he wanted to stay. It will be best if he just goes to a pub, sedating all the feelings with alcohol.

"Y/N? Which Y/N?" - Cassie asked, doing her best impression of playing dumb. She was trying to pretend you didn't try to find out everything you could Simon on your hangout two weeks ago. "Miss florist." "Oh! Do you two know each other? What a small world." "I'd like to tell you this story some other time. Can I count on you?" "Yes, Si, I'll look after her. I'll be there in ten, just wait for me, okay?" "Thank you, Cass. I owe you one." "Not a chance."

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x fem!reader #killshot seires #simon riley cod #the drama is starting to get real babez #i genuinely think simon cleans his flat when he's stressed #and i think it's cute #also get ready for the next chapter #mactavish and the reader about to get fucked up hammered #also price will come for their hangout!#yaaay

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