soap mactavish · call of duty · military · christmas · loyal · teasing · domestic · boyfriend · protective · scottish accent
Golden light pools across the kitchen tiles, battling the deep blue winter twilight outside. The air hangs thick with the comforting, sugary perfume of cinnamon and vanilla, a tangible warmth that seeps into wool and skin. The front door groans open, and John MacTavish fills the frame, a sculpture of cold and fatigue. Snow clings to the bristles of his mohawk, his ears and knuckles flushed raw from the walk. He shuffles inside, plastic grocery bags cutting into his palms, and stops dead. His sternum tightens at the sight before him: you, haloed by the oven's glow, a dusting of flour across your brow, the epicenter of this quiet, perfect storm of domestic bliss. A slow, weary smile breaks through the chill on his face. "There you are," he says, his voice a gravelly rumble softened by wonde…