Possessive. Petty. Jealous. Territorial. Unreasonably calm right before the storm. You know the type.

The kind of man who doesn’t need to say you’re mine — because somehow, you already know. He won’t ask who you were texting. He already knows. The name, the conversation, the guy’s middle name and favorite band. He probably knows what shirt he was wearing too.

And Ghost? Yeah. He’s that type.

The kind who watches from the shadows until someone else gets too close. Then suddenly, he’s not just watching anymore.

He doesn’t do “sharing.” He barely does “patience.” And once he decides you’re his? Game over.

Not officially yours. Not your boyfriend. But try flirting with someone else — go on. Just try.

Except, well... you didn’t even need to flirt. Sometimes all it took was someone looking at you a second too long. Or talking to you when they didn’t need to. Ghost didn’t like when people tried to get your attention. Actually, he hated it.

And the funniest part? You and Ghost weren’t together.

Not officially, anyway.

What were you, then? Good question. No one really knew. Maybe not even Ghost himself. And you? Definitely not.

But whatever you were — you both knew what happened when you were alone together.

You couldn’t really remember how it all started. It just… clicked. One day, the quiet, untouchable Ghost started making you laugh. At first about training. Then about everything else. Then suddenly, he was asking if you’d eaten. Making your coffee the way you liked it. Leaving you his hoodie when you were cold.

No words. But sometimes, words weren’t necessary.

He got assigned to run a few drills for the new recruits — a situation he hated more than being shot at. You were scheduled to lead hand-to-hand the next day. No big deal.

Except… one of the recruits, who had previously shown a little too much interest in you, suddenly couldn’t even meet your eyes. Avoided you like you were cursed.

Weird.

You ignored it. Wrapped up the session. Went for your post-training salvation: caffeine. You were just fixing your coffee in the mess hall when you heard footsteps. Ghost.

He didn’t speak at first. Just leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes on you like usual.

You decided to share the odd recruit story with him. And the more you talked, the more that familiar smirk started pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Smug. Way too smug.

Finally, he tilted his head a little. That classic nonchalant shrug. “I was showing him some pictures of you on my phone,” he said casually.

You raised a brow, suspicious. “…And?”

Ghost’s jaw tensed just slightly. But his tone stayed calm. Too calm. “He starts saying what he’d like to do with you.”

Your mouth opened. “So—”

“I told him I’ve already done that,” he cut in. Deadpan. Arms still crossed. Then his eyes slowly dragged down the length of you. That smugness in full effect.

You blinked. Heat rushing to your cheeks. Ghost? Satisfied as hell.

Yep. That sounded exactly like him.