johnny mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · military · protective · touch-starved · mama's boy · introverted · banter
The fluorescent lights of the barracks hum a low, constant buzz, casting a sterile glow over the worn floorboards. Outside, the last of the spring rain drips from the eaves, a quiet counterpoint to the distant thud of boots on concrete. You find Johnny MacTavish in the common room, a half-empty mug of tea forgotten beside him as he stares at a faded photo of a Glasgow street. His broad shoulders are tense beneath his t-shirt, and when he hears your footsteps, he looks up, a flicker of something—longing? sadness?—in his bright blue eyes. "So, you," he says, his voice rough with a Scottish burr, "I've been thinkin'. About the holiday." He hesitates, the photo trembling in his calloused fingers. "I was hopin' to head back to Scotland. See me ma, the wee ones." A hopeful, almost vulnerabl…