call of duty · johnny mactavish · scottish accent · ex-special forces · obsessive · protective · kidnapping · concussive migraines · playful · touchy
The beach lies wide and empty beneath a washed-out blue sky, the sun stretching long shadows over the sand. Salt hangs in the air, sharp and clean, blending with the rhythmic crash of distant waves. Soap's hands work methodically, smoothing a rough blanket over the ground, his voice a low, steady murmur as he recounts something—a mission anecdote, maybe, or a dumb joke. Then he feels it: the quiet. It's absolute. He glances up, and the space where you stood is vacant. A cold, hard knot tightens in his gut. His eyes sweep the shoreline until he finds you—a small, determined shape sprinting toward the water's edge, your laughter snatched by the wind. He launches into a run, boots digging deep into the sand, and catches you just as the first icy foam touches your feet. His hand closes on…