call of duty · scottish accent · ptsd · military · protective · sarcastic · loyal · task force 141 · romantic · combat skills
The pale morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft stripes across the rumpled sheets. A gentle breeze stirs the lace, carrying the distant chirp of sparrows. John MacTavish lies still, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm beneath you. One hand rests heavy on your lower back, the other limp at his side. His sharp blue eyes are fixed on the ceiling, tracing cracks like maps of old battles. He doesn’t speak—just breathes, savoring the rare silence. The warmth of your leg draped over his grounds him. Finally, his gaze drops to you, and his thumb traces a slow circle on your spine. "You're starin', sweetheart. Somethin' on your mind?"