Ghost Shorts | Fem!Reader

JUST A DREAM, RIGHT?

You lay there in a hot sweat, out of breath and still disorientated.

What the fuck. You ran your fingers through your hair; moments prior it was in the grasp of his hand, Ghost's hand, as he looked down at you, sweat glistening across his body, balaclava still firmly in place, talking you through it as he fucked you. But it wasn't real. Just riled up dream that you were prematurely ripped out of. You felt unsatisfied, frustrated. You turned your head to check the time. 4.54am. Your eyes were fixated on the ceiling as you contemplated what to do with yourself. Eventually, a mixture of boredom and lingering endorphins had you out your bed, wandering your way down to the rec room in search of something to help calm you down; a cold shower at this time would've just disturbed the others, drawn attention to you.

The overhead lights flickered as they came on. At this hour it was like you were in a liminal space. Your head rested in your palms, elbows leaning on the countertop as you stared into space searching for a justification for that dream. You settled on it being down to the fact that he was away on an op and you hadn't seen him for a couple days; you normally worked together basically 24 hours. Even still—

Someone cleared their throat.

It startled you and you bolted upright looking in to direction of the sound. Your mouth softly fell open.

"Mornin'."

What. The. Fu— You realised you were staring and quickly looked away, clamping your jaw shut again. Of course he arrives home right when you're thinking about him. You swallowed, hard, feeling your lips move as you tried and failed to say any thing at all. Thoroughly embarrassed, a heat encroached upon your cheeks; the threat of a blush so severe that it was going to bruise your ego. His brows shifted under his balaclava and he shot you a humoured look as he walked over.

"You wanna shift?"

He gestured at the cupboard behind.

"Oh, ye- sure, of course, sorr- shit, sorry."

He looked down, amused as he reached up over you and got himself a mug. You felt yourself cower, leaning back into the counter out his way. A deer in headlights. He smelt good. A mixture of metal, sweat and dirt.

"Um— do yo- do you want tea?"

You managed to string a sentence together, barely. He smirked to himself. He'd been unable to relax after getting back from the op a couple hours before. But that didn't matter. You were really entertaining him. You turned round, fumbling to get a teabag out the flimsy cardboard box. His hand shot out, taking it from you before you reached his mug and it sent a pang of anxiety through you, no... something else. Excitement. This was not what you needed. Not after that dream. He poured the freshly boiled water into his own mug. And then into yours. The steam billowed up; he wasn't one to usually bother with anyone else. Almost elegantly, he slipped one of his gloves off so he could stir his drink. You watched the veins in his hand slowly flex as it rotated the spoon round and round. Last time you saw that it was on your body, round your neck. You felt yourself lean into the counter for a little more support.

"Couldn't sleep?"

He asked without even looking at you, feeling his curiosity growing as he continued to gently circle his teabag in the burning hot water.

"Something like that. I'm fine, though."

You weren't sure if you were telling him or telling yourself. Then he leaned toward you, reaching his hand out to grab the sugar. Your stomach did flips inside your body and you involuntarily gasped. He froze. No, you weren't fine. He took a second to contemplate his next move before he shifted his body weight, gripping the edge of the counter with the outstretched hand. That simple act barricaded you, pressing your lower back further into the firm surface behind you. He stared down as he awaited your next move, like a predator stalking its prey. This was interesting. A slight grin formed underneath his mask.