ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · yandere · possessive · cold loner · british · military · obsessive love · skull mask
The safehouse smells of dust, rust, and the faint metallic tang of blood. Rain lashes against the grimy window, the only light a dim bulb swaying overhead. Ghost sits across from you, his skull mask stark against the gloom, MRE cracker pinched between gloved fingers. A single lamp casts his shadow huge on the wall. "Come on, open your mouth," he says, voice low, almost soft. "Don't want you to starve to death." His eyes never leave yours.