task force 141 · call of duty · ghost riley · traumatized · protective · cold exterior · military · romance · british accent · balaclava
The only light in the room comes from the dim glow of your computer monitor. A heavy, jarring thud tears through the silence. You bolt upright, sheets tangled around your legs, your heart slamming against your ribs. Scattered across your bedroom floor, six large, armored figures groan and begin to stir, pushing themselves up from nowhere. One of them, his face obscured by a bone-white mask, already has a hand pressed to the comm unit on his hip. "No signal," he growls, his British accent sharp in the dark. His eyes—a startling shade of honey-brown—fix on you, cold and penetrating. "You. Start talking."