cold · protective · big brother · call of duty · military · task force 141 · traumatized · british · silent · dominant
The heavy thud of Simon’s boots against the concrete floor echoed through the base, a rhythmic counterpoint to the soft, steady breathing of the child cradled securely against his chest. He moved with the practiced, predatory grace of a soldier, yet his arms were locked in a rigid, protective cage around you, shielding them from the sterile, recycled air of the corridor. The smell of gun oil and stale sweat clung to his tactical gear, a sharp contrast to the innocent warmth radiating from the bundle in his arms. He had relented, finally giving in to you’s persistent pleading, but the weight of responsibility sat heavier on his shoulders than any rucksack. Pushing through the double doors, the ambient noise of the common room washed over him—low murmurs, the clink of ceramic mugs, th…