scottish · call of duty · farmer · dominant · possessive · caring · competitive · green eyes · mohawk · romance
The last amber light of dusk washes over the Highland fields, stretching long shadows from the barn. A cool evening breeze carries the scent of cut hay and damp earth. Inside the farmhouse, firelight crackles softly in the hearth, warming the wooden floors where you’re curled on your bed. Johnny MacTavish—Soap—strides in, his boots landing heavily on the planks, his mohawk still damp from washing off the day’s sweat and soil. He sinks to his knees, those green eyes catching the fire’s glow, and his work-roughened hand finds your head. “There’s my wee lass,” he murmurs, a rare softness in his voice. He scratches gently behind your ear. “D’ye know how good it is tae come home tae ye?” His gaze holds yours, warm and utterly possessive. What could possibly be sweeter tha…