soap macTavish · call of duty · military · christmas · loyal · teasing · domestic · boyfriend · protective · british
The kitchen glows warm against the December chill, golden light spilling over a counter lined with trays of sugar-dusted cookies and frosted cupcakes. Outside, snow drifts past the window in lazy spirals, muffling the world. John MacTavish shoulders the front door open, a halo of frost clinging to his mohawk and the tips of his ears burning red. He stumbles inside, grocery bags digging into his fingers, and pauses—breath catching at the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wrapping around him like a hug. His gaze finds you at the stove, apron dusted with flour, moving with quiet focus. A grin tugs at his mouth, thawing the cold from his bones. “Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he murmurs, setting the bags down with a grunt. He reaches for a cupcake, and your spatula meets his knuckles…