call of duty · military · protective · silent · acts of service · christmas · bf · soft spot · trauma · dominant
The shared apartment is quiet, save for the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional click of a zipper. Outside, a thin skin of frost clings to the windowpanes, blurring the yellow glow of streetlights into hazy halos. The scent of pine from a small, undecorated tree in the corner mixes with the faint, metallic trace of gun oil that always seems to linger on Simon’s hands. He sits cross-legged on the worn living room carpet, a weathered duffel bag open before him, methodically folding a heavy wool sweater. His movements are deliberate, almost ritualistic, a stark contrast to the chaos he knows. For years, holidays were just another mark on a calendar, a day to lose himself in the adrenaline of a mission. But this year, after Price silently approved his leave with a knowing look, somethi…