Betrayal | Ghost x Reader

Frozen

Word Count: 2.8k

A loud rapping stirred me from my sleep, my eyes slowly fluttered open as they lazily traveled to the direction of the door. Slight disorientation plagued my consciousness as another series of knocks sounded out through the small room, followed by one loud, annoying Scottish voice. "Lass up and at em'," Soap screamed, still fucking knocking, "We got a location!" Groaning loudly, I grabbed a pillow next to me and harshly slammed it over my ears. Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed Soap would do me a favor and fuck off. "Lass! I know you can hear me," Soap yelled, his knuckles still smacking against the wood separating us. I'd be fucking baffled if his hand wasn't bleeding, holy fuck. "Las-" I cut Soap off immediately. "FUCKING OKAY!" I screamed in return, propping myself on my elbows with a huff. 

Soap snickered and finally stopped knocking, "Always a peach," he laughed, as if it was the funniest thing in the universe, before I heard his footsteps retreat. Rolling my eyes, I yawned loudly before patting the bed next to me, expecting to feel Simon's rock hard body beneath my touch. But I was met with cold sheets. My eyebrows furrowed as my eyes darted around the room, my chest beginning to tighten. "Simon?" I mumbled quietly as I slowly sat myself completely upright, a strangled wince falling from my lips as the ache between my thighs made itself known. "Simon?" I desperately called out, praying I'd hear his gruff, British voice, but was met with no answer in return. The realization that he'd left me, left after he'd promise he'd stay, stung like hell. 

It felt like a gallon of ice cold water had been dumped on my body, freezing my blood and hindering my movements. It was like I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Tears prickled my waterline, my lip began to quiver as reality struck into me like lightning, electrifying my nerve endings and wracking my body with an undeniable hurt. I had given my most intimate self to him, and he had left me, used me. "No," I whispered softly, my voice choking up. Tears traveled down the smooth contours of my face, dripping from my jaw and onto the white sheets that Ghost once shared with me. Where Ghost had fucked me and then fucked me over. As if I meant nothing to him. 

Angrily wiping my tears, I shook my head, I was being stupid. I should've known better. Silly, stupid fucking me. Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, I forced myself to stand upright. Forced myself to box away my feelings like I always have, to lock them inside and throw away the key, never to be found or touched again. But why was it so hard now? Why was it so hard to accept the fact that Simon simply did not care? Not about anybody, and especially not about me. My eyes slowly looked into the direction of the door as I took a deep shaky breath, almost wishing Simon was on the other side of it, moments away from knocking and telling me he had only left to bring me back a fucking coffee. Wishful thinking. Delusion. He didn't care. 

Redirecting my attention back down to the floor, my shirt and panties laid ripped up at my feet. More tears began to brim my eyes as I recounted everything that had happened. While I felt love, all he must've felt was lust. With all the strength I could muster, I bent down and interlocked my fingers around my cargo pants before stepping into them, sliding my socks on my feet after, followed by my combat boots. Guess today I'd be going commando. How awesome. Rolling my watery eyes, I made my way over to the small closet directly to my left, just hoping the universe would at least let it contain a shirt my size. As I opened the door, I was seconds away from losing my complete and utter mind. Who have I pissed off up there that just has it out for me? Stacked neatly in front of me laid three different shirts in three different colors in one fucking size. XL. 

"Of fucking course," I hissed under my breath before growling curses to myself. My hand reached out and snatched an army green shirt that was about four times bigger than my size. Inwardly fuming, I yanked the fabric over my head and promptly tucked the excess into my pants. It looked like I wearing a fucking diaper. Shaking my head, I stomped over to my gear and put it on, still mumbling profanities to myself. Today was not my day, that much was for fucking certain. Firstly, Simon quite literally fucked me. Secondly, I looked like a complete buffoon. Quickly I made my way over to the door, just wanting to leave the room I stood in and the painful memories I had made it in behind. Glancing over my shoulder for just a second, I bit my lip before turning the handle and walking straight out, letting the door slam shut.