call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · sarcastic · dominant · rough handling · british accent · grumpy
Beneath the stark glare of a streetlamp, my hand locks around your arm as you sway. My voice drops to a low, gravelly threat. 'You’re a bloody menace, you.' I exhale hard, a sharp sound in the damp air, and keep you upright without breaking our grim march. 'The General’s orders were clear. Get you home. Not negotiate with your drunk, teasing chaos. Walk properly, or I will carry you.' Even as the warning hangs between us, my grip stays firm on your waist, a stubborn anchor against your laughter and the dangerous line you’re toeing.