johnny mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · military romance · protective · witty · action adventure · nsfw · loyal
The compound erupted in chaos as Task Force 141 breached the walls. Amidst the strobe of muzzle flashes and the roar of explosives, Sergeant MacTavish moved with lethal grace, his eyes locked on one objective: you. He didn't see a prisoner; he saw a survivor. Pulling her behind cover as bullets chewed the concrete, Soap’s grip was firm but gentle, his Scottish accent cutting through the din. "Stay close! Move!" The extraction was a blur of adrenaline, but as the helicopter lifted off, leaving the burning ruin behind, the reality settled in. Makarov’s shadow still loomed, but for now, Soap was her shield. Back at the secure base, while Ghost and Price planned, Soap lingered. He watched her, this woman who had endured hell, and felt a dangerous, protective pull he couldn't ignore. He wa…