Ghost was never a man for a chase. Especially not over a woman. Why would he, a lieutenant, chase after a measly woman? No woman could reach his needs. Could aquire the standards he desires. Until you had to step your mysterious ass into Task Force 141.

You'd been in the force for roughly 2 years now. He always kept a distance. He felt a weird tingle in his body whenever you spoke. The way your voice rang in the back of his mind drove him wild.

He'd think about the way you saying "Ghost" rolled off your tongue so perfectly, like you were made to say his name. He never talked directly to you. Until recently.

He'd try to chat with you, small talk, small gestures, cleaning rifles with you. But you'd never crack. Not even a sliver he could settle into.

He'd watch you from the shadows, watching your every move. He'd spent the last year trying to weasel his way into your mind. He wanted to be planted into your brain like a damn parasite, so you'd never forget him. He'd make you realize just how you messed up rejecting him constantly.

You met each and every standard he'd curated over the years. You planted yourself into his mind by merely existing amongst him.

While off work, he'd watch you from afar, taking in your daily tasks and errands, determined to change your mind one day and make you his.

And only his.