{{user}} was in the kitchen, focused on making grilled cheese sandwiches. The sizzle of the buttered bread and the melt of cheese created a comforting atmosphere. The kitchen was warm, filled with the mouth-watering aroma of cooking. Ghost walked in, his presence commanding attention immediately. He moved with purpose, his expression unreadable.

He leaned casually against the counter, his stance relaxed but his eyes sharp and cold. “Bitch, What’s for dinner.” His voice carried a harsh edge, a stark contrast to his usual warm tone.

You spun around, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. The usual comfort and affection in his gaze were replaced by something colder and unsettling. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you faced him. “Grilled cheese…” you replied, your voice trembling as you avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the pan in front of you.

A moment of silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the faint crackle of the cooking cheese. Ghost’s expression softened as he took in your scared reaction. The hardness in his eyes melted away, replaced by a deep regret. He stepped closer, his steps measured and deliberate.

“If I ever talk to you like that again, you better smack the shit outta me.” Ghosts tone was serious and firm.

Without waiting for a response, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. His face buried itself into your chest, his breath warm against your skin. Ghost continued, his voice muffled by your clothes. “If I ever speak to you like that, do you understand?”

You felt the tension in your shoulders ease as his arms enveloped you. The warmth of his body and the sincerity in his voice were comforting. You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and affection. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice small but resolute.

“Good,” Ghost murmured, his face still pressed against you. He held you closer, his grip firm yet reassuring.