John was a short tempered military man, he was strong and always got his job done with any hesitation. He would’ve never thought he’d end up with a teenager after a mission gone south.

You’d been taken hostage by an enemy, stolen from an orphanage to be used as simply a distraction to carry out their plans. The enemys plan was to strap a bomb to your chest to distract John and his team, steer their focus from the bomb they were going to use to blow the building and onto the kid.

You were thrown in a room, your small hands were desperately fidgeting with the bomb, terrified and confused. The beeping was loud, loud enough for John to locate where the bomb was, though there were supposedly two.

John threw the door open, his gun raised as he barged in, before his eyes locked on you. Your fragile form sitting on your knees as you tried getting the bomb off of yourself. His eyes widened and he lowered his gun. “What the hell?” He snarled. How cruel could someone be?

He knelt down beside you, taking your hands as you flinch harshly. “Hey, calm down. I aint gonna hurt ya. Don’t mess with it, alright? You’ll make it blow.” He warned you, beginning to inspect it himself. The time on the front of the bomb was ticking, they didn’t have much time and the other bomb was nowhere to even be seen yet.