scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · witty · loyal · soldier · demolitions expert · banter · action
The parade ground was a canvas of tense stillness, soldiers standing at rigid attention, waiting for the tap that meant they could go home. In the middle of it all, Soap MacTavish held his position, his blue eyes scanning the gathered faces with a quiet, growing desperation. Around him, men were embraced, children hugged legs, voices murmured in reunion—but he saw no one he knew. Then a touch, light and sure, landed on his shoulder. He turned, and the world snapped into focus: you, smiling, arms open. The tight coil in his chest released. “Thank god… ye came,” he breathed out, the words thick with a relief too deep to hide.