GhostxReader(GN)- flatmates
Fluffy fluffy fluffy 4am drabbling i had a hella NSFW version but ehhhh enjoy my fluffy contribution instead.
Ghost had no intention of getting a flatmate when he bought the small two-bedroom cottage, but after an extended deployment and a few thousand euros later in repairs from water damage, well…
It took a few months of prying to the right people and in the right places to finally vet a few possible choices to move in as his slightly unwelcomed second in the cottage.
Eventually you landed on his radar. Stable, clean, sweet enough. He introduced himself as Simon and didn't explain anything about what he did for work, just said he was gone a lot. You could connect the dots easily enough and were polite enough not to pry further.
It was a simple exchange; Don’t let the cottage collapse while he was away, your groceries are your responsibility, no guests unless necessary, no pets as Riley often came home with him, and utilities are your responsibility if he was gone for more than three weeks of the month. The latter varied so often, eventually you opted to just pay the utilities every month– it was ‘your rent’. He didn’t fight you on the decision.
Who could complain? It was a quiet cottage that you had entirely to yourself most of the time. It was out of the way and secluded from the bustle of the city beyond, surrounded by nothing and nobody. Occasionally Riley stayed when Simon left, you’d play outside with him and let him run wild through the woods and it sated the puppy fever. The only real setback was that it was quite a way from work, but that was easily forgiven.
Neither of you are sure when it started.
He came home, some days you’d have just finished making dinner and you’d always offer him some and he declined the first few times, but eventually started to say yes. You started to make the meals he liked most around your guesstimates for when he would be coming home so he’d have something he liked. You both ate in moderate silence, not an uncomfortable silence that craved anything to fill the void but a warm silence that embraced you and made you feel safe.
Eventually you two would start to battle it out in a game or two of cards or chess when he came home. Typically he won at cards, you won at chess, both of you occasionally accusing the other of cheating because there was no way he actually had another full house. You tried to move the pieces on the chess board once, but he caught the change immediately. To be fair, a bottle of bourbon was on the line.
One day as he walked in, after being gone for almost two months, you could feel the weight of whatever had happened drag in with him, looming on him. You offered him a cup of tea, making it the same way your nan did when you felt like shit. Instead of secluding himself in his room, Simon let himself be comfortable in his own house for once and melted onto the couch. You didn’t ask him what happened, he wouldn’t tell you if you asked. You sat with him, a comforting hand on his as some competitive culinary show played on the television. Neither of you watched. He glared into his mug, and you watched him. “This is fuckin’ delightful.” he grumbled and you gave him a small smile.
A few months later you came home to find him passed out on the couch, his bag barely dropped on the floor next to him. He had fresh bandages across his shoulder and a stitching along on his jaw. He had some kind of black smear over his eyes but you could still see the bags under his eyes. It hadn’t really occurred to you until then that Simon, even if he didn’t tell you what he did, worked in a field where he could very well not come home ever again. You knew it was dangerous, but it took until this moment to really appreciate the truth of it. Something tugged in your chest. You draped a blanket over him and placed a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand.
You woke up to a fresh arrangement of flowers and a small box of your favourite candies on the kitchen counter and Simon already gone.
He came back home a week later, this time you were passed out on the couch. Work had been brutal and you had only enough energy to clean yourself up and throw on a shirt and underwear. You hadn’t expected him back after a week, he was rarely only gone for a week. This time you woke up with a blanket over you, and a glass of water.
The way he teased you relentlessly once you were awake, you couldn’t be mad but he was really digging in and eventually you snapped back at him, “Oh, kiss my arse, Simon!” You weren’t expecting him to grin and ask “Is that an order or an offer, lovie?” in response. His shoulder earned a slap and you huffed away, but inside you were screaming and fighting for your life to contain the red on your cheeks.
You two drank together that night, it wasn’t the first time, but something about that morning and a few drinks made you a bit brave— perhaps too brave. As you both called it for the night, you brushed a kiss on his cheek and stumbled off to your room.
He was gone again. A week went by. Then two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Then you started to get worried. But he came back, damaged and reclused, but he was back.
You had to fight the urge to throw yourself into him and bury yourself into his neck and tell him how much you missed him. And that feeling scared the piss out of you.
Simon stood at the doorway across from you, he finally dropped his pack and there was a look in his eye that he fought to push away, Simon trying to keep his attention on anything but you.
He failed.
He closed the space between the two of you, pulling you tight into his arms, kissing the top of your head, and letting out a breath. You stayed like this until your knees buckled and once that happened he picked you up and made you both cosy on the couch. He was out pretty quickly once he laid down, his arms wrapped around you.
Neither of you talked about it when you woke up.
You played cards again that night, both of you braver and tried a new game— a chaotic, ruleless game of strip poker. It didn’t start out that way, but it certainly ended that way. 💕 Masterlist
