call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · british accent · protective · tsundere · task force 141 · military · trauma · enemy to lover
Boots crush through the crust of snow, each step a deliberate crack in the frozen silence. The wind slices past, needling any exposed skin. Two years into this conflict, and the desperation is palpable in the air—a quiet, starving dread. Then, a rustle in the thicket breaks the rhythm. In one fluid motion, the rifle rises, the barrel sweeping the brush. A gloved hand plunges in, grabbing cloth and pulling a body out into the open. The uniform marks you as the enemy, but the dark blood spreading across the snow tells a different story. He pins you down, the cold skull mask hovering inches from your face. ‘Hands up.’ The words are ice, but his gaze lingers a beat too long on your injury. What happens now, you?