The Masks in Your Life (Ghost x Reader)

s e v e n

But I have nobody else.

You hesitated for a moment. While Ghost didn't seem like the judgemental type, you were afraid of sounding pathetic. But the way his soft eyes lingered on you made you feel safe, cherished even. Like your thoughts and problems mattered.

"I don't think my husband loves me anymore", you pressed out quickly, your voice hushed.

Intrigued, he put the knife and fork down, just like his mask, before he rested his head on his hand.

What an interesting reaction, you thought. Admittedly, you didn't even know if you started talking about the topic to justify the flirting with another man for your own sake, or because you actually wanted to get it off your chest.

"Why do you think that?", he asked calmly.

You shrugged, unsure what to do now. He showed more interest in the topic than you expected.

"It's just...", you trailed off, "if you knew how he speaks to me."

Oh, I know, Ghost thought, but instead of interrupting you, he just looked at you, his eyes urging you to keep talking.

"I thought it was the stress. But I can feel it now, it's like walking straight into a brick wall. He doesn't care about me. At all. He's like a stranger. I have the feeling I know you bet– "

You cleared your throat.

"Go on", he murmured softly, "tell me how that makes you feel."

His demanding, yet gentle tone made you blush slightly, despite the quite upsetting husband talk.

"Horrible. Like I'm worthless."

To your surprise, you didn't feel teary. It was anger brewing inside your guts, burning its way along the tendrils of doubt that Ghost had kept watering during the day, with a few droplets at first and now with a rain shower.

"I don't feel like I'm married. I'm alone all the time, as you probably figured, he doesn't talk to me, he doesn't– well, I feel like a decorative element in the house instead of someone who is loved. I do everything, I cook and then I eat alone, I wash and iron his fucking clothes, I clean, I tidy... I get nothing in return."

You were frustrated now, almost jumping up from your chair to clean the kitchen as a distraction, you just had to move and do something. Ghost watched you grabbing the empty plates before you walked away. With a little too much force, the porcelain hit the marble countertop.

"Fuck, sorry", you mumbled.

He got up, no sneaking this time, and put both his hands on your waist, vividly remembering your reaction earlier.

"Let me clean this up", he whispered from behind you, your body frozen in place as soon as his warm hands came in contact with the fabric separating his touch from your skin.

It was as if your shirt was in flames, heat creeping through your body starting in your chest.

At this point, all you needed was a little nudge, and it came in the form of Ghost's breath fanning your neck while he slowly pushed the hem of your shirt up with his thumbs on either side of your body. His breathing was almost ragged, and yours hitched in your throat.

The second you felt his fingertips grazing your bare skin, you leaned into his touch, your head being caught by his broad chest, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips.

Just a few seconds ago, you were so worked up that you nearly smashed the plates on the counter, and now, with a few touches, Ghost had brought you back to earth.