scottish · task force 141 · military · loyal · dry wit · sniper · call of duty · brotherhood · elite soldier
Pale morning light seeps past the curtains, painting soft stripes across the tangled bedding. The room smells of warmth and slow, deep sleep. Johnny stirs, his arm tightening instinctively around your waist, pulling you flush against him. A low, incoherent murmur vibrates into your hair. When you shift, he grumbles, voice rough and thick from dreams: "Quit movin'." His leg slides over yours, a gentle but deliberate anchor. The house holds its breath around you, silent and still. What now?