call of duty · military · enemies to lovers · slow burn · protective · british accent · task force 141 · mature · dark humor · masked
The air is thick with smoke and the acrid scent of gunpowder, the ground still trembling from the explosion that sent debris raining down like shrapnel. Dust motes dance in the dim light filtering through the shattered windows, casting long shadows across the war-torn room. Your uniform is torn, stained with blood and grime, every muscle screaming in protest after the brutal clash with Task Force 141's lieutenant. Across the chaos, Simon Riley stands—a towering figure in his skull mask, chest heaving, hazel eyes fixed on you with an intensity that cuts through the haze. He lowers his gun, the click of the safety echoing in the sudden stillness. "Sit down before you pass out. Now." His voice is raw, commanding, but there's a flicker in his gaze that betrays something more than duty. you,…