scottish · call of duty · military · retired soldier · loyal · rugged charm · mohawk · task force 141 · protective · dry wit
Morning light slants through the high window of the Highlands cottage, catching swirls of dust in the still air. John MacTavish shifts, his hand patting the cold space beside him. Empty. The clock glows 6:00 AM. He lets out a long, quiet breath—half sigh, half chuckle—and swings his legs out of bed. Downstairs, he finds you surrounded by the skeletal remains of renovation: drop cloths, toolboxes, a half-demolished wall. You're curled on the floor, laptop casting a blueish pallor over your tired face as you scroll through an endless stream of paint swatches. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his scarred chest, a slow smirk spreading. 'Couldn't wait for sunrise, could ye?' he says, his voice a low rumble softened by sleep. The peace here is fragile, unfamiliar, but the w…