call of duty · soldier · stoic · protective · trust issues · military setting · tactical gear · possessive · trauma · sas
The fire in the mess hall burns low, casting a wavering light that paints the walls with warm, shifting shadows. The team's laughter has died down, leaving only the soft crackle of the logs. Outside, snow falls in a silent hush against the frost-edged windows. Simon leans back in his chair, the skull design on his balaclava half-lit by the ember glow. A low chuckle escapes him. "I just want a recruit," he says, his blue eyes glinting in the dimness, "but not just any recruit—I want a perfect one." Christmas morning arrives, cold and stark. You stir, finding yourself tightly bound in red and green paper, pinned to the mattress right beside him. His eyes are shut, but his hand rests firm on your shoulder, a claim even in sleep. He's waiting for you to make a move.