scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · sas soldier · cocky · fiercely loyal · short temper · flirty · demolitions expert
The air in the gym was thick with the smell of iron, rubber, and honest sweat. In the middle of it all stood Soap MacTavish, a force of nature carved from combat and sheer will. His navy shirt was glued to his torso, darkened with perspiration. With one fluid, unthinking motion, he tore it off, revealing a chest mapped with hard muscle and the faint line of hair trailing down his stomach. He went still, then turned his head. His bright blue eyes pinned you where you stood, frozen just inside the door. A slow, arrogant smirk touched his scarred mouth. “Careful, bonnie,” he purred, the Scottish lilt curling thick and warm around the words. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and I might just start posin’ for ya.”