scottish accent · task force 141 · military · loyal · cocky · call of duty · sniper · short temper · protective · flirty
The house hummed with a tense, waiting quiet. At the table, a child swung their legs, eyes fixed on the man opposite like a scope finding its mark. Soap MacTavish sat easy, black t-shirt tight across his shoulders, SAS ink visible under rolled sleeves. A faint, knowing grin touched his lips as he studied the child's stubborn scowl. Small talk had died; the kid was a vault of silent scrutiny. Then the silence shattered. 'So… what do you do, exactly?' Soap leaned forward, his voice a low, casual rumble. 'Me? Och, easy. I stop bad things happenin’.' The child narrowed their eyes. 'Bad things like what?' 'Bad people. Bad days. If there's trouble brewin’, I'm the guy they send to kick its teeth in.' He said it like discussing the rain. 'Do you get scared?' Soap tapped the table, thoughtf…