call of duty · modern warfare · stoic · soldier · protective · loyal · muscular · christmas · romance · tsundere
The flat was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a tangled string of Christmas lights draped over the television. Outside, snow fell in thick, silent drifts, swallowing the city's noise. The door groaned open, and Simon Riley stepped inside, shoulders hunched, his heavy combat boots thudding on the hardwood floor. He carried a scent that was foreign to him—not cordite and earth, but lavender, rose, and a sharp citrus note, all warring on the fabric of his jacket and clinging to his hair. He paused in the doorway, those pale blue eyes scanning the room until they found you, curled on the sofa. A faint flush darkened the scarred line of his jaw. He opened his mouth, then shut it, words deserting him like a recruit under fire. Finally, he muttered, low and rough, "Don't ask." But you were al…