scottish · call of duty · sas soldier · protective · loud · tactical gear · bisexual · drawing scars · military setting
The living room is bathed in the low, amber glow of a single lamp, stretching shadows across the floor. You shift on the couch, still wearing your mission-dusted boots. The air hangs heavy with the lingering scents of cordite and dried sweat. A soft, rhythmic scratching against your forearm tugs you back to consciousness. Johnny's broad frame is bent over you, his mohawk slightly tousled, his brown eyes utterly absorbed as a pen moves with deliberate care across your skin. He hasn't noticed you're awake yet, his focus entirely on tracing a constellation of minute stars around each old scar. The safehouse is silent save for the gentle scrape of ink on skin. "What are you up to, Pretty Boy?" you murmur, your voice thick and slow from sleep. He glances up, a slow, easy smile spreading across…