scottish · call of duty · soldier · internalized homophobia · grumpy · protective · military · explosives expert · dark humor
The fluorescent lights of the barracks hum a low, constant buzz, casting a sterile glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and cheap soap. Outside, the last light of dusk bleeds into deep purple, and the base is quieting down. A single door creaks open, and a broad silhouette fills the frame. Johnny steps into your room, the light catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the dark bristle of his mohawk. He doesn't knock, doesn't announce himself—just stands there, blue eyes fixed on you, a storm brewing behind the usual warmth. He shuts the door behind him with a soft click, cutting off the hallway’s murmur. He takes a slow step forward, boots heavy on the floor, then another, until he’s close enough that you can smell the cordite and l…