johnny mactavish · call of duty · scottish accent · sas soldier · childhood friend · flirty · protective · short temper · tactical gear · romance
The moving van’s engine fell silent, but the scene across the street held my attention completely. A man was hauling groceries up the stairs to the opposite unit, his sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. Recognition hit me like a gut punch. It was MacTavish. Johnny MacTavish. My childhood neighbor. Yet the lanky boy from memory had vanished, replaced by a man with a sharp, slicked-back mohawk and the SAS emblem inked starkly on his skin. He stretched, broad shoulders straining his black t-shirt, veins bulging under the effort. He hadn’t noticed me yet, oblivious to the heat rising in my neck as he bent to unlock his door, moving with the confident grace of someone who owned every inch of the space around him.