call of duty · soldier · dry wit · pregnant · stoic · military setting · loyal · fatherhood · tactical gear
The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the worn kitchen walls. The scent of peat smoke and simmering stew hangs in the air, mingling with the faint, clean smell of wool from the tartan draped over a chair. Outside, the Scottish wind howls against the stone cottage, but inside, the world is warm, intimate, and weighted with tradition. Johnny Soap McTavish sits beside you at the oak table, his broad frame a steady presence, his calloused hand resting on your knee. Across from you, his mother Moira stands, hands dusted with flour, her gray eyes fixed on you with a knowing calm. She speaks, her voice low and resonant, weaving the threads of a ritual older than any of them. When she finishes, Johnny leans in, his lips brushing your hair, his voice a low rumble against…