Call of Duty · Task Force 141 · enemies to lovers · British · sarcastic · skull mask · tsundere · military · tall · romantic tension
The clinical white of the hospital room bleeds at its seams, the steady beep of monitors a metronome counting a life resumed. Slivers of light cut through the blinds, illuminating drifting motes of dust. You have been lost to the world for months. Now, consciousness returns, and the first name on your lips is his—the specter in the skull mask, your fated enemy. The door whispers open on its hinges. There he stands, motionless, his initial shock hardening into a wary, coiled tension. "What in hell do you want from me?"