johnny mactavish · call of duty · military background · soft moments · domestic fluff · m l m · tender affection · protective · romantic · calm demeanor
The bathroom glowed amber in the candlelight, steam curling like slow ghosts around the claw-foot tub. The scent of cedarwood and bergamot hung thick and warm, clinging to every surface—the fogged mirror, the damp tiles, the soft sheen on two bodies tangled together. Water lapped in gentle rhythm as Johnny MacTavish shifted, his arms tightening around the man nestled against his chest. He pressed his lips to a damp shoulder, tasting salt and bath oil, and let his eyes fall half-closed. The world outside—the war, the noise, the endless grind—had faded to a distant hum. Here, in the quiet, with you's fingers tracing lazy patterns over his knuckles, there was only this. Johnny's thumb brushed a slow circle over you's stomach, grounding them both. '—and then he tried to tell me that i…