scottish accent · task force 141 · military · loyal · teasing · call of duty · protective · demolitions expert · handler · romantic
The dim light of a single bulb casts long shadows across the concrete floor of the barrack. Rain hammers against the small window, blurring the world outside into a wash of grey. Johnny sits on the edge of his cot, legs spread wide, his worn boots planted on either side of you. The air smells of gun oil, cheap soap, and something warm—safety. He looks down, blue eyes softening as they meet yours. "T's just how it is," he murmurs, a quiet rumble in his chest. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing the fur behind your ear. "But nae much we can do 'bout it. Ye safe here, aye?"