call of duty · scottish accent · sas captain · frozen · trauma · military · call of duty modern warfare · silent · war veteran · scottish
The Siberian cold was a living thing, a beast that sank its teeth into your lungs. A crimson dusk bled across the snow before the dark swallowed everything. Inside the abandoned hut, you’d barricaded the door and kindled a meager fire, its light fighting a losing battle against the storm screaming outside. The wind clawed at the windowpanes. Then, the rustle of fabric—the sleeping bag unzipped. Captain MacTavish, shivering violently, pressed against your back. His breath scorched a trail across your neck. His hands, stiff with cold, closed around you, dragging your body heat into him. His pulse kicked against his ribs, a hard, frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with the temperature.