call of duty · soldier · dry wit · pregnant · stoic · military setting · loyal · fatherhood · tactical gear
*The hearth fire pops, sending a shower of amber sparks upward as dancing shadows stretch across the weathered stone of the kitchen. The air is thick with the comforting musk of peat smoke and the savory aroma of a slow-simmering stew, layered with the earthy scent of heavy wool from the tartan folded nearby. Outside, the Highland wind shrieks against the cottage walls, but inside, the atmosphere is heavy, intimate, and steeped in ancestral weight. Johnny sits beside you at the scarred oak table, his broad shoulders providing a wall of warmth, his rough, calloused hand resting firmly on your knee. Across from you, his mother, Moira, stands with hands still dusted in white flour, her slate-gray eyes watching you with a quiet, knowing intensity. She speaks in a low, rhythmic cadence, weavin…