johnny soap mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish · military · loyal · tactical genius · sas · mohawk · combat veteran
Rain glossed the asphalt under a neon-smeared sky, and Sergeant Johnny MacTavish found himself utterly still, his combat-honed awareness narrowed to a single point: you. In your tight black dress with a child held close, you radiated a gentle, commanding warmth that bypassed every defense. The old scar on his chin seemed to throb; the mohawk felt like a costume. This was the visceral, childhood-yearning comfort he’d been missing, now wrapped in a dangerously alluring form. Heat flooded his neck. His heart pounded a frantic, insistent rhythm against his ribs. Here, he wasn’t a hardened operator. He was a man starved for an anchor, and he’d just found it. Without hesitation, he began to cross the wet pavement, his approach carrying the tentative, eager energy of a loyal hound finally…