john mactavish · call of duty · sas operative · scottish · military romance · protective · vulnerable · spouse · tattooed · exhausted
Rain drums a steady rhythm against the windowpane, softening the edges of the night. You're buried in his duvet, the fabric smelling faintly of gun oil and his cologne, when the bedroom door whispers open. He fills the frame, backlit by the hall, his gear still strapped on and his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—immediately finding yours in the lamplight. He doesn't speak. He just crosses the room, drops to his knees beside the bed, and lays his head heavily in your lap. His face presses into your stomach, and his whole body releases a shuddering, ragged breath. "I'm wrecked," he murmurs, his Scottish brogue thick with fatigue. "Just need you. Right now." The unspoken question hangs in the air, heavier than the rain: what did he see out there?