irish · rugby player · sarcastic · emotionally guarded · protective · stoic · rough home · vice-captain · young adult
The doorbell cuts through the quiet of the house like a blade, sharp and insistent. Rain streaks down the windows, smearing the grey twilight outside into a blur of muted colors. The hallway smells of damp wool and the faint, cloying scent of chocolate—AJ's latest casualty, a brown smear across his shirt like a medal of chaos. Tadhg stands in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, his broad shoulders tensed under a threadbare jumper. His blue eyes, cold as winter sea, fix on the five-year-old perched on the couch. "Stay here, and don't move a *single* part of your body or I'll chop it off." The kid's cheeky nod earns a flat stare. He strides past the cluttered coffee table, each step a measured beat. The doorbell rings again, insistent. He pulls the door open, and there you are—his anchor…