#shut up loo

[lonely--seeker]

I've gotten so used to sleep with my shark plushie I don't want to leave him ever again. He just fits perfectly and is soft? A pillow could never.

[sadhornydemons]

At some point, before this scene, we missed out on something like this..

"Blitzy! Do you want some souvenirs to remember our trip to Loo Loo Land?"

"Fuck no, I'm just here to...Wait, actually..."

Followed by Blitz throwing away $80 worth of merchandise five minutes later, but hey, at least he saved the magnet:

[afrognamedfizzarolli]

Any wild guesses on what my favorite episode is?

In all seriousness, tonight (or maybe tomorrow morning) Im going to post the first of a series of analyzations of Helluva Boss. Starting with general overviews of each episode. Things like blink and you miss it details, easter eggs, foreshadowing, ect. As well as talking about parts of the episodes I feel get overlooked.

I will be doing one episode at a time, hopefully one a day. Would like some input though: Should I start with the pilot or episode 1?

[sovawife]

Oh I also got a deadlock comm :D she’s coming in the mail a few days.. excited… she’s so pretty I want to eat the art style

[princelancey]

Otmar really is a skeevy little shit isn't he

[redflagshipwriter]

The Proposal

This mini fic was inspired by the anon prompt to @faeriekit linked here and all the development that Faeriekit did for the idea. This fic is perilously regional. I half expect angry yelling from other areas of the Midwest.

Original post

Word count: 2718

Masterpost of my Archive Down Fics is here.

Jason came to with cream cheese stuck under his fingernails and in the creases of his fingers. He looked around the room wildly, trying to understand the situation he was in. The kitchen smelled fucking weird. He sniffed the air. Meat? Like, ham and also vinegar?

He washed his hands really well, grimacing at the greasy texture. Then he reconstructed what must have happened by the debris. This was not his first post-blackout rodeo, but usually he was reconstructing a literal crime scene.

There was an empty pickle jar on the countertop. There were packets of deli meat in the trash.

There was some kind of abomination on his nicest plate, which was obviously made of cream cheese wrapped around pickles, blanketed by the meat, and sliced thin like sushi rolls. It was lovingly protected by a perfect sheet of cling wrap.

“The fuck?” Jason said, a little scared and pissed off.

He paced the kitchen for a while and then went to pace on the balcony, because he needed a smoke to process this culinary abomination but something in his gut wailed at the tragedy of ruining it with cigarette smoke. Which was absurd, partly because the plate was in the refrigerator. He sensed in his bones that it needed to cool until the cream cheese was as hard as it would get, so that he could safely transport it. Transport it fucking where? Was this an assassination attempt against Batman? That sappy motherfucker was probably the only man in the world who would choke that down to make Jason happy.

He had a long drag on his cigarette and tried to ignore the way his fingers shook.

“Okay,” he said, squeezing his free hand shut and opening it. Maybe stimming would prompt his brain to go brr and explain this. “Did I have a stroke? Maybe I was possessed?”

It was hard to tell. He ground out his cigarette and tossed the butt in the tray before venturing back inside. He was calm. He was more centered. He flicked on the kitchen fan to clear out the pickle stink and then he went and put on his coat and grabbed the plate.

Why was he doing that?

The compulsion led him three blocks before he realized where he was going.

Not far away from the safehouse he was in, some college freshman had wasted the Joker when the clown tried to drag him into a van. He had called the police, crying the whole time in shock about being a murderer.

Jason had not been on the scene. He had only heard through comms. He had been out of town when the Joker got out. He had been rushing back on his bike, heart pounding and sick with nerves at the thought of his family out there without him.

And then the fucker had failed to secure the first victim for whatever sick play he’d had in mind, and the poor out of town kid who had apparently never heard of the Joker was breathing a sigh of relief that ‘oh, this wasn’t like, a birthday clown? Whew, that’s alright then,’ previous guilt over ending a life all gone.

Jason liked that. It was hugely undignified that the Joker had been got by someone who didn’t even know who he was. If he’d known, it would have killed his ego. As it was, Jason had laughed himself nearly sick before barricading himself inside to read the file Timmers put together on Danny Fenton.

Well. If his gut said that he should deliver this horrific dish to Fenton as thanks for the murder, well…

Jason grimaced. He just wouldn’t be seen doing it. If Fenton thought it was an assassination attempt and called the cops, Jason would never fess up.

He broke into Fenton’s apartment, very glad that the guy was in class at the moment. He mourned the loss of his plate but honestly, this was the least destructive black out he’d had, so it was whatever. He put the pickle rolls in the fridge, looked around, and then left. He was done. He’d thanked Fenton, or whatever (maybe he’d attacked him, honestly, Jason didn’t know how he would react to finding that trash in his fridge.)

It could end now.

The next morning, Jason scrubbed away a yawn and realized that he had just scraped a mess of chopped snickers bars into a bowl that already had clouds of something white and -

He took out a piece and bit into it to confirm that it was perfectly cubed green apple.

“I am possessed,” Jason said in horror, looking around the counter to see what the Pit Madness had cooked up this time. Why did the fucking Lazarus Pit know these recipes?

The white shit was a mix of cool whip and vanilla pudding, apparently. There was an untouched bottle of caramel sauce waiting innocently.

“...Does that go in?” Jason wondered, vaguely horrified.

Well, maybe an evil witch was doing this to him. Bottoms up. He poured caramel in until it felt right, guided by what had to be someone else’s goddamn ancestors, and then mixed it all up with a spoon.

This looked a lot better than the last thing. Jason scraped it into a bowl and then stole a spoonful of it to try.

“Holy shit. It’s like eating a caramel apple,” he said, muffled around the food. He swallowed and genuinely considered taking more.

Nope! His gut said nope. This was another offering for–

“Hold up, offering?” Jason put it in the fridge, clingwrap on top, and let his mind be blown. He put his face in his hands and just reeled. He was making offerings for this motherfucker now. He opened his phone, intending to search the things he’d been blackout making and froze.

His lock screen was Danny Fenton’s police intake photo, looking pretty relaxed after he'd been told the booking was a formality.

“I don’t remember doing that!” Jason frantically changed it back to his old lock screen, a grimy alleyway with a hilariously shaped filth puddle and one of his favorite rats.

He snuck this dessert thing into Fenton’s fridge, collected his clean plate with some relief, and left. He didn't know if Fenton had eaten that shit or if he'd thrown it away, but at least he'd washed the plate.

“That was the last time,” Jason told himself, pacing around his room. He wasn’t– that was two days in a row now that he had a normal day, went out on patrol, went to bed, and woke up in his kitchen. It wasn’t going to happen again.

He chainsmoked all day to such a degree that Stephanie Brown saw him, whined “Dude,” in disbelief, and jumped off a building while holding her nose to get away from him. It was a fair reaction. He had a shower before patrol so that no one could make a connection between Jason, stinkiest man in Gotham today, and the Red Hood, a guy who owned a shower.

Patrol went fine. He caught himself veering past Fenton’s shitty apartment building twice but no one was nearby enough to call him out for it.

He went to bed and got a jumpscare because at some point of his most recent fugue state he'd gone out and bought a bunch of wedding magazines and made them into a nest. He made a roar of frustration and pushed them off the bed with only a twinge of interest in what that swan centerpiece was made of.

Jason went the fuck to sleep, determined to walk this off.

He woke up the next morning in his kitchen. “Cream cheese, again,” Jason complained. He gave the bowl he was mixing a furious stir and then shoved it in the fridge.

Cream cheese, chopped meat, and chopped green onion. He searched the internet to identify the fucker. This was a cheeseball.

…He frowned, thinking of the fugly mess in the bowl.

It was the larval form of a cheeseball, he amended.

Why did he know this shitty recipe.

Stomach tight with dread, he looked up the other things. Day one was a pickle roll. Day two was snickers salad.

These were all real Midwestern potluck dishes. He hadn't made them up. Why did the pit know these recipes?

The Snickers salad offended him as a concept and he bitterly regretted finding it delicious.

“Salad,” Jason repeated in aggrieved disbelief. It was good but it was no goddamn salad. “I could just make him a real salad. Will this end if I bring Fenton good food?”

It wasn't the worst idea. He put a pin in it.

Grimly, as if he was going off to war, Jason researched how to shape the ball. If he was doing this, which apparently he was for no goddamn reason, he was going to do it to perfection. When he was done he wrapped it up tight, got an assortment of crackers, and left it at Danny Fenton’s apartment with a sort of tired resignation that this might as well be happening.

This time was different. This time, Fenton was home.

Jason barely avoided being seen by rushing out the window over the sink and hiding from the immediate line of sight. He was, however, close enough to hear–

“Holy shit, is that a cheeseball? Who loves me?” and then some truly ghastly, wet crunching as Fenton tore through the crackers and cheeseball like a wild beast. It felt like being in a horror film. Jason very badly wanted to leave. Jason very badly wanted to crawl back inside and present himself for a scrap of Fenton’s approval.

What the fuck? What the fuck!

He fled. And this time, he decided to take action. He was going get out of this sick mind trap and-

“Nothing wrong with you, it's not a curse,” Zatanna said, bored about it. “Whatever is going on is safe, sane, consensual, and none of my business.” She portalled away before Jason could argue that it did not feel sane. He was having an entirely new category of mental breakdown and when one of the Bats found out about it, he was going to be a case study.

Fine. He gritted his jaw. New plan. Maybe he could beat the curse by showing it up.

He called out of crime for the day and ignored the confused commentary in the background of his phone call– can he do that? Of course he can, he’s the friggin’ boss– and spent it furiously researching. He needed a crowning achievement. He needed to find out what was sacred in this culinary tradition, master it, and then tell the compulsion to suck on bricks.

Casserole. The answer was a casserole.

Jason scrolled through dozens of recipes, scowling fiercely. That was no good. That offended his senses. He just knew that would be bland. He-

“Do I want to make that?” Jason asked aloud, puzzled by his fixation on the old-fashioned goulash casserole recipe. Worcestershire sauce– he didn’t have that in this safe house for sure. Beef, pasta, tomatoes… yeah, okay. This was the one. For no fucking reason at all, this was the one.

He went out shopping like he usually went on life-or-death missions, full of grim purpose.

He got back and assembled his ingredients. It was not exactly a challenge to follow the recipe. Jason turned off the stove top and froze in place. “I don’t have an ancestral pan,” he said, horrified. Holy fuck. How could he dare to give it in a regular baking pan- he had to get one. Where the fuck does one acquire an ancestral casserole pan on short notice?

Panicked, he called the Manor, hands shaking as he packed the whole thing up and stuffed it in the fridge to keep it food safe until he could bake it.

Bruce answered, sounding a little choked up. “Hello, Jason, so glad-”

He hung up. He texted Tim. “I need you to steal something for me from the Manor.”

“You’re allowed in, you gigantic freak,” Tim wrote back.

Jason did some meditative breathing and resorted to outright pleading immediately. “What do you want? I will give you whatever you want. I just need an ancestral casserole pan.”

“I am NOT stealing from Alfred’s kitchen,” Tim wrote back. Which was fair. “Drake ancestral pan alright?”

Jason thought about it. It was still a family pan, sorta. By the transitive property, and that was a perfectly good property. He sent back a thumbs up, his GPS pin, and the word “Hurry.”

A while later, Tim dropped off a glass dish, loudly said “I don’t wanna know,” and slammed Jason’s door shut.

Fine. He was already moving his stuff from the now-cold frying pan into the casserole dish. It went into the oven from there. Jason spent the bake time trying to think of new coping mechanisms, because apparently smoking wasn’t up to this level of mental fuckery.

He waited out the bake time. He let it cool enough to be safe to travel with but hot enough to deliver warm. Jason grappled to Danny Fenton's apartment for the fourth time in four days, let himself in, and nearly jumped out of his boots when he realized that Fenton was in the kitchen watching him.

“Hey,” Fenton said. He was sitting on his counter in his pajamas, eating ice cream out of the bucket with a spoon. He was certifiable. Jason wanted to cross the room and kiss whatever Fenton would let him. Hands, face, feet, whatever.

Wow, weird.

“...Hey,” Jason said, way too late.

Fenton crunched down on his ice cream. “...That a casserole?” He said.

Jason nodded wordlessly, feeling very grateful that he had his hood on. He put the casserole down on the counter. He took a step backwards to flee.

Fenton pointed at Jason with the spoon, wholly unintimidated by the heavily armed man who'd broken into his house. “This is a proposal.”

Oh. Oh, motherfucking shitsocks. Jason felt weak through the knees. It was. Why was- why was he proposing??

Fenton took in his shock with a detached air. “Huh,” he said, like he'd learned something from this. “Um, it's nice of you and all. Have you been like, fixated on me for a while or- ohhh. I avenged you, didn't I?” He dropped the spoon in his ice cream carton and slapped both his palms down on the countertop. “He killed you? That sucks, man,” Fenton empathized. “I get it. I think if someone smashed the portal with a hammer I'd be down on one knee.”

Jason's brain was simply not running any program any longer. He gaped. He wasn't coherent enough to ask why Danny knew he'd been murdered by the Joker, but he had his shit together well enough to be fixated on the point.

“Um, it's not usually me being chased,” Fenton said. He made a face. “I… huh, I think I'm flattered.” He very obviously gave Jason a once-over. “I suppose this is your way of showing that you're a provider.” He heaved himself off the counter and went to investigate the casserole, sniffing and lifting the lid. “Oh, fuuuuuuck,” Danny groaned. He sniffed appreciatively. “Good demonstration of your husband material, t-b-h.”

Jason resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground.

“That's the good stuff.” Fenton closed it back up, but not before giving his ice cream spoon a considering look.

Oh, yuck. This guy was so grungly. Jason needed him badly. He shuddered.

Fenton looked at him.

Jason looked back.

“Do you wanna try moving in and see how we get on?” Fenton offered. “Take it slow, no wedding just yet.”

“Absolutely.” Jason full-body twitched with just how eager he was. “How do you feel about swans?”

“Neutral,” Danny said, after a brief moment of consideration. “I like stars, though.”

Okay, so that would be their wedding theme.

Jason only realized he'd said that aloud when Fenton's eyebrows shot up. Mortified and really wondering what was wrong with him, Jason offered a weak smile.

Fenton made a considering noise. He crossed his arms. He looked Jason up and down. “...Can you grill?” He asked. “Like, beer chicken?”

[hoshifighting]

Hello!!!

I’ve literally been eating up you work, everything you put out is 10/10

I’m curious to know your thoughts on this; how would svt react to their s/o saying i love you for the first time during sex? Like they’re just so lost in pleasure that it slips out and their s/o doesn’t even realize

seventeen reaction; you saying i love you for the first time, during sex

WARNINGS: 18+, smut, does not necessarily mention established relationships.

seungcheol's hips grind against yours, his hands gripping your thighs with a bruising force. you're not even thinking when it slips out, a breathless “i love you” falling from your lips. his movements stop abruptly, eyes wide as he looks down at you, stunned. “did you just said…?” he trails off, not quite sure how to proceed. you freeze too, “s-say what?” you stammer, trying to backpedal. but he cuts you off with a soft grunt, resuming his movements. “nothing, baby,” he whispers, “just… keep going.” he says, his voice a low rumble, as he focuses back on the rhythm, clearly trying to push the words out of his mind for now. but his heart melting, because he loves you more :(

jeonghan’s reaction is quiet. his pace doesn’t falter, but his eyes meet yours, and there’s a knowing look in them. it’s like he’s waiting for you to realize what you just said. he doesn’t say anything, but the slight smirk on his lips tells you he heard every word. later, you know he’ll bring it up, but for now, he seems content, almost smug, as if pleased that he’s drawn such a confession out of you.

joshua pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you meant what you said. you want to hide yourself, but he sharpens his thrust, making you gasp. “say. it. again.” he growls. then he adds another sharp thrust, and you melt, “i love you, joshua.” you repeat, eyes shut. he smiles, his ego boosting like a rocket.

junhui doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at you like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory. “you’re serious?” he finally asks. you don’t fully understand his reaction, just nodding absently. he exhales sharply, a shaky breath running out of him as he leans down to kiss you. “you have no idea how much i’ve wanted to hear that,” he murmurs against your lips.

soonyoung’s stops mid-thrust, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “am i fucking you that good?” he asks, a naughty smirk twitching at his lips. you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your slip. you try to brush it off, to pretend it didn’t happen, but he’s not having it. “no, no, i want to hear it again.” he waits, hovering above you, until you mutter the words again. only then does he resume, his thrusts harder, more intense, as if to prove a point. “i knew you couldn’t resist me.”

wonwoo’s reaction is instant. his breath hitches, and his hips stutter for a moment. “fuck…” he whispers, burying his face in your shoulder. the words seem to have a strong effect on him, and you can feel him trembling slightly. it’s like those three words have broken through his soul. his movements become more inconsistent, and you can tell he’s close. the way he holds you, clinging to you, you know he’s been affected deeply. he cums shortly after, burying himself deep inside you. “didn’t think you’d be confessing your love like this.”

jihoon’s sharp ears don’t miss a thing. you see his eyes widen, a slight flush creeping up his neck. he doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s heard you loud and clear. there’s a moment of tension, and you can feel him almost pull back, as if to process what you just said. “we'll talk about it later” he says. this was enough to make you overthink here and there. but he doubles down, he’s determined to bring you back to the moment, to keep you from getting lost in your own thoughts. and it works. you’re soon too dazzled by his cock blessing your walls to think about anything else.

minghao’s answer is more composed. “you’re not thinking straight,” he says, his voice firm. he slows down, making you look into his eyes. “say it again, but mean it.” his tone is serious, almost challenging. you swallow, the words catching in your throat. but the power of his stare makes it impossible to lie. you repeat the words, this time with clarity, and he nods, pleased. “good,” he mumbles, before continuing his pace, more controlled, more purposeful.

mingyu’s freezes for a second, and you can see the surprise in his eyes. but then he quickly recovers, pretending like it didn’t happen. “i didn’t hear anything,” he says with a grin, continuing his movements. you can feel the slight tension in his body, but he doesn’t bring it up. he’s clearly trying to keep things light, to not make a big deal out of it. but you know he heard you. and from the way he’s moving, the intensity in his stare, you can tell it’s on his mind. his lips glued in a line so he can hold the 'i love you more' for later.

seokmin’s response is immediate. “repeat it,” he demands, he pushes his cock, deeper, his eyes locked onto yours. “say it,” he insists, his pace relentless. you can barely form the words, but you manage to stutter out another “i love you.” everytime you say it, he thrusts harder, until you’re a crying mess beneath him, he grins down at you, clearly enjoying the power he has over you at this moment.

seungkwan’s ears are blushed, but he hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars, making you gasp. “uh? what? i didn’t hear you. can you repeat it?” he teases, you feel your face flush, but there’s no way you’re getting out of this. he slows down, waiting for you to repeat the words. and you do, reluctantly. he grins, satisfied, and resumes his pace.

vernon is the gentleman. “you… love me?” he trails off. before you can even think about apologizing, he’s kissing you, his lips soft but insistent. “don’t be sorry,” he murmurs against your lips, his pace never faltering. he’s reassuring, comforting, as if he’s trying to tell you that it’s okay, that he’s not going anywhere. it’s like he’s telling you that he’s there for you, that he understands. and mainly... that he loves you too.

chan’s smile shines to the point of blindness “are you confessing to me?” he asks. you feel your face heat up, embarrassed by your slip. he chuckles, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “that’s what i’m hearing,” he continues, a grin spreading across his face. you try to brush it off, to pretend it didn’t happen, but he’s not letting it go.

[a-hazbin-reader]

could you do something about how alastor gets jealous and how he shows it? Like what things would get him jealous and stuff like that and then how he would go about it? Thank you!

I guess I gotta- 🥵

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a red flag, Wifey is into it even though she pretends not to be, A widdle suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

It doesn't take much to make Alastor jealous, he has a big ego to defend and doesn't like to share your attention

He also doesn't think a lot of people are worthy of your attention so that's a big part of it

Alastor is almost childish the way he acts out when he's jealous, it's painfully obvious even though he denies it every time

He sulks and acts out to get your attention back on him, doing anything he can to make you just look at him

He's rude and intimidating to anyone he thinks is flirting with you or trying to take you for themselves

After every incident, he tries to pretend like nothing happened and refuses to acknowledge his jealous streak

Can't people just understand that you're a married woman and that Alastor deserves all of your time???

Someone is talking to you and you're laughing too hard, cheeks a little too pink? Alastor is right there to sniff out any ill intention

"What's so funny, my dear? Surely you're not gossiping without me.."

He's wrapping a protective arm around you and kissing your cheek, eyeing the other person the entire time as he asserts his husbandly dominance over them

"Hm? Oh! He was telling me a funny joke about-"

Alastor takes a break from kissing your wrist and palm to snap his gaze to the other man, a wicked gleam in his eye

"Ohhhh! So you're a clown! Wonderful~! Your attire had me wondering what you do for a living, but now it all makes sense!"

The other person is visibly uncomfortable by your husband's unspoken challenge and backs out of the conversation with their tail between their legs

"I guess he had other things to do~"

You roll your eyes as Alastor nuzzles your neck, petting his around his ears and antlers

"You're are not a very subtle man, my dear."

You're dancing with someone who's not him? Alastor will physically shut that shit down

He spends maybe a full minute pouting and ignoring everyone else around him, eyes locked on you and your dance partner

"Alastor, are you even listening?"

"Out of all the women here, why did he choose MY wife? I walked away for one second, and he snatched her up!"

He doesn't care for how closely they're holding you, the way they blush and smile from your attention

Alastor isn't having it, striding over and using his hip to push the man away from you and off the dance floor, taking your hand

You're trying not to smile at him, pressing against your husband as you take his hand and dance with him

"Alastor, that was rude..."

He simply chuckles and spins you around happily, snapping his fingers to change the song into something more romantic

"I would say I'm sorry but we both know I'm not~ Besides, I waited for my chance to dance with you!"

It's hard to stay mad at him when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the world and holding you like you're something precious

It helps that he's so handsome, you can't help but lean up and steal a kiss from him, feeling familiar butterflies at the touch

"You've been dancing with me all night, and you barely waited a minute... you greedy demon~"

He leans into your hand as you cup his cheek, tail wagging from having your undivided attention again

"Is it a crime that I want to hog my darling wife? That I crave every opportunity to dance with her and steal the show?"

He's leaning in for another kiss, and it makes you instinctively move in closer to meet his lips

"It will be if you keep injuring people~"

And those are just some examples of people who weren't flirting with you, it's so much worse when someone actually wants you

You're waiting for your husband to meet with you for your date, dressed up and looking your absolute best

When you hear a sharp whistle from behind, only to see a sleazy looking demon towering over you and eyeing your body

"And just where do you think you're going looking like that, beautiful? My place is that way~"

He's much too close, placing a hand on the wall behind you in order to keep you from running, completely unaware of the danger he's in

You can't help but roll your eyes at the situation

"I'm flattered, really I am... but I'm not interested, I'm waiting for someone, actually."

You casually move out from under his arm, completely unfazed by the way his expression darkens as you fix your appearance

"Oh really? And just who might you be waiting for? Let me guess, your boyfriend?"

He doesn't look like he believes you, making air quotes around the word boyfriend

You can't help but laugh at the poor soul, putting a hand on your hip as you whip around to face him-

"Husband, actually~ My name is Alastor though maybe you'll recognize my other name! The Radio Demon~ Maybe you've heard of me?"

It's such a treat to watch the cocky demon lose his composure in fear and so sexy to watch your husband be the cause of it

The demon is so much larger than Alastor but he's practically cowering away from him, Alastor grinning at him as he tilts his head

"Look uh-I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

Your husband tuts at the demon, antlers already growing as he morphs into his larger demonic form

You can't help but blush at how sweet Alastor is being, rushing to your rescue like this

"Didn't realize what? That you were hitting on my wife? You think I would just stand by and let you think you have a shot with her? She's much too far out of your league, unfortunately."

He's so cute when he's jealous

"Darling, do be quick with that? I don't want to miss our reservation-and no eating him! I don't want you to spoil your appetite!"

Alastor looks at you and visibly blushes at how good you look, the other demon simply an afterthought as he tears them apart

"My dear, you look absolutely ravishing~ How am I going to keep the other men from looking at you when you're so delectable?"

He's still humongous, a large claw reaching out to stroke your leg tenderly, a lovesick expression on his face

You can practically see the hearts in his eyes~ Smiling at your husband and blowing him a kiss

"It's a good thing that you're the only man I have eyes for then, isn't it?"

He shrinks back down to his normal size and kisses your hand before wrapping an arm around you as you two walk together

"It's something that I'm extraordinarily grateful for~"

You can't help but lean your head against him, letting him nuzzle the top of your head in an affectionate manner

"Though~ I wouldn't mind a refresher of just how much you adore me...~"

You can't help but snort at the comment, gently slapping his chest before pulling him in for a kiss

"Dinner first~ You'll need your strength~"

I might go back and change this one a bit ngl

[mydemimonde]

'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: this will have two parts, most likely! english is not my first language and i have no idea how oxford university works lol i just googled some things, also i suck at maths so any explanation here is just me googling shit. no beta reader. hope you enjoy!

Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache, the worst hangover you ever had. You don't even remember how you managed to get to your dorm, until you see a small note on your bedside table, signed by... Michael Gavey.

Words: 4490

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, fingering, loss of virginity, masturbation (and more to come in the second part)

You wake up on a Saturday morning with a pounding headache, your mascara all smudged under your eyes. The sunlight coming from the blinds makes you squint your eyes. You bring a hand to your forehead, sighing. This was the worst hangover you had in a while.

The sound of the door opening and a sudden gasp make you groan and close your eyes shut.

“Oh, here you are!” a particularly high-pitched voice says, making your headache even worse.

“Fuck, Leigh” your voice comes out as croaky and hoarse. “Lower your voice” you ask as she mutters a ‘sorry’ and closes the door carefully. You manage to sit, your back resting against the headboard as Leigh approaches you.

“Next time, be sure to drink water as well. Too many tequilas and shots do this to you” it’s like she’s scolding you, which is fair because she’s two years older than you, she’s like your sister sometimes.

You rub your eyes, smearing more mascara and making you look like a raccoon. On the corner of your eye you notice a glass full of water and some aspirins. You frown.

“How did you get that so fast?” It’s Leigh’s turn to look at you completely puzzled. You point to the glass next to you.

“Uhm, it wasn’t me” she chuckles as you take some aspirins in your hand and drown them with water. Your brows lift in surprise and confusion, your eyes glancing towards a small note next to your lamp. You grab it and read the message in a rushed handwriting.

“What the fuck was Michael Gavey doing in my dorm?” you nearly scream with wide eyes as Leigh takes the note from your hands to read it. She throws her head back and cackles.

“Michael Gavey brought you here last night. You don’t remember?” she looks at your dumbfounded expression trying not to laugh again. “Jeez, you were so drunk you don’t even remember what happened…” she mutters and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Last night at the pub, we were chatting with Felix and his group and you wanted to go to the loo, so you left but on your way you bumped into Bradley and Sam” she wiggles her brows and you scoff.

You dated Bradley during half the second term, then you dated his friend Sam for a brief period of two weeks. You found them too boring, so you rejected any other advance on their part ever since.

“Anyways, I couldn’t see much but I think something nasty happened, because on the other side of the pub was Michael fucking Gavey looking at you. Babe, he was fuming” her lips curve into a devilish smile. “He strode towards you and grabbed your arm, telling them to fuck off. Which they surprisingly did, which is odd because, well… you know… he’s a scrawny awkward nerd and Bradley and Sam are pretty much tall like beasts” she shakes her head while you’re still confused, trying so hard to remember what happened. 

“Why the hell would he even approach me? He hates me” your brows lift and she places a manicured hand on your knee.

“Hmm, maybe they were annoying you. It seems Michael’s your knight in shining armour. I think it was hot, wet my panties a little bit not gonna lie” she sighs and fans her face with her hand, pretending to melt.

Now it is your turn to cackle. “You’ve always said you pictured him like one of those guys who compulsively jerks off to hentai every night in the dark of his room.” You look at her with a knowing look, pouting your lips.

Leigh shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like nerds like Michael Gavey now. He looked really good with that shirt” she narrows her eyes and twirls her hair, making you laugh again. She grins and looks at you. “You should talk to him. Ask him what happened, and then you might want to thank him…” she wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes, she slaps your shoulder in response. “You know you want to! I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, and a guy like him will never resist a bomb like you. Who knows, maybe he’s jerking off to the thought of you…”

“Leigh!” you slap her leg and she jumps. You shake your head. “Babe, she hates me. I know it. I’m pretty sure he’s part of that group of guys that slut-shames me in the hallways” Leigh presses her lips, knowing you might be right. Might.

Still, you want to know what really happened last night, so you sigh and get out of bed, Leigh following your movements in the dimly lit dorm. “I’ll take a shower and think about how to talk to him, ask him what happened” your friend gets on her stomach on your bed, her feet up and her chin resting on her palm as you grab your towel, feeling the headache go away, but your empty stomach grumbled.

“Mind if I take a nap here? Kev fucked my brains out last night and I don’t feel like going to my dorm” she sounded quite tired, and you hum in response. She groans as she gets into the covers and you enter the small bathroom, closing the door slowly and undressing to get into the warm shower, letting the water fall all over your body. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling, and you start wondering how to talk to Michael.

You never saw him anywhere else rather than in the great hall of college, as he spent most of the time in the library. Besides, you know deep in your gut he hates you. Every time you walk into the library, he leaves, avoiding looking at you.

One time, you tried to talk to him. It was the beginning of the academic year, you were dating a history student named David, and you saw Michael all alone during lunch, too focused on his books and his crunchies. Feeling bad for him, you grabbed your purse and walked towards him, a smile across your face.

“Hi there” you introduce yourself, extending your hand. He looks up from his book, looking at you with a frown, sneering. He looks at your hand and then back at you. Awkwardly, you move that hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips. “What’s your name?”

“Michael Gavey” he says sharply, clearly annoyed. You stand there, feeling heat creeping on your cheeks as he turns his attention to his book. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you leave, returning to your friends.

That was the first and last time you tried to talk to him, but he refused. You didn’t know why, but you assumed it was because of your reputation there. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your sexuality, and it’s definitely not your fault that most of the guys are horny douchebags who aren’t capable of being in a serious relationship. Plus, they’re too shallow for you, and you get bored easily. You don’t want them to get too attached.

But Michael’s different. He avoids interacting with people when he can, he doesn’t do parties -maybe you saw him once or twice at Felix’s-, he’s very vocal about what he thinks about popular people: he hates them. Vapid cunts, you heard him mutter once. And that’s why you feel attracted to him.

He’s nothing like Bradley, Sam or David. Or Luke. Or Peter. Or even Felix.

You finish showering and drying off your hair, Leigh sleeping soundly on your bed. You are careful not to make any loud noise as you try to dress. You put on a lace tank top and a pair of jeans, your favourite flats and the note he left on your bedside table and head out to the library, hoping to find him.

Bingo. You see Michael sitting on the other side of the library, fully immersed in his studies. Your flats make the slightest of noises against the floor, you feel your heartbeat get faster as you approach him. You pull the chair in front of him and take a seat, leaning over as you smile and say hi. Michael looks up and nearly chokes at the sight of your tits nearly spilling from your top.

“H-hi” he simply responds in a low voice. He clears his throat and frowns. “Why are you here?”

Ouch. Rude. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Silly old me?

“Yes, dummy. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and I found this on my bedside table.” You hand him the small note he left. Drink these with water. Hope you feel better. Michael Gavey. He presses his lips and nods, acknowledging the note he wrote.

“You were pretty hammered” he chuckles and you smile, showing your perfect teeth.

“I was. I can’t remember a thing, Michael. Would you help me to fill in the blanks?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at him, making him squirm. Michael Gavey squirms.

“Sure, uhm…” he puts the book aside, scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat once again. “You were heading towards the toilet at the pub and I heard you laugh when you bumped into those assholes” he sneers, remembering the events from last night. “The blonde one landed a hand on your ass and you tried to pull him away. You were clearly uncomfortable so just told them to fuck off” he shrugs.

Your heart flutters, he sounds so honest and worried about you. You extend your hand to place it on top of his, and he meets your eyes. “Thank you.”

He nods, looking at your hands. He slithers them away, making you frown. “No worries. Next time though, try not to throw up on my sneakers” your eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, did I do that?” He nods trying to hide a smirk. You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!” You move your hands away from your flushed face when you hear him chuckle.

“You had too many drinks, you could barely stand on your feet” he reassures you, his sudden kindness taking you by surprise. “I left you in your dorm and just when I was about to leave, you said you felt like throwing up, but you didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up on my sneakers. I washed the stain off the floor and helped you get off your shoes to lie down. I see you took the aspirins I left there.”

“I did, thank you again.” You don’t know how to thank him properly, so you start thinking. You take a moment to study his features. The glasses he wears frame his face and hide his blue eyes. His aquiline nose —oh God, his aquiline nose—, the pronounced cupid bow of his lips, his sharp jaw. You feel the need to run your fingers through his tousled blonde hair. You press your legs together. “How can I thank you?”

“No, it’s ok. No worries” he makes a gesture with his hands and sighs. “Uhm, I really need to study, so…” he trails off, subtly telling you to leave. You blink and nod, standing up.

“Sure, ok, I’ll leave you to it…” you accommodate the chair back and wave at him. “See you around?” He just nods and opens his book again. As you leave, a great idea crosses your mind, but before you open your mouth a pack of students enter the library. You curse internally and leave.

9:15 AM.

You fix your hair in the mirror, brushing it before going to the calculus lecture. You’re not studying anything related to maths actually, you’re a psychology student and according to the university program you can take a course to complement your studies, so you chose that one.

As you walk down the corridors, you see Michael carrying his notebook and entering the classroom. Your lips curve into a smile and speed up the pace to catch up.

“Michael!” You call him as you finally reach him. You swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, and you follow him as more students fill the room. He smiles at you with pressed lips, greeting you back.

“I didn’t know you were taking calculus” he sounds genuinely surprised. You decide to take a seat next to him, placing your bag on the floor as he opens his notebook and clicks his pen, everything ready to take notes.

“Yeah, I have to take an optional course to complement my studies” you lean down, giving him a clear view of your cleavage as you reach for your notebook and pencil case. You hear him gulp.

“How… dedicated” he replies, to which you smile, taking the end of your pencil in between your teeth.

Michael looks away, his eyes focusing on the board as the professor greets everyone and starts writing.

Half an hour later the lecture comes to an end. You sigh in relief, your brain has melted from all the numbers and formulas the professor explained. Honestly, you paid more attention to Michael’s large hands and long fingers gripping his pen as he took notes, thinking about how they would feel on your body.

You watch as he stands up quickly, nodding at you as a way to say goodbye. “See ya”

“Michael, wait!” You quickly put your notebook into your bag and rush after him. “Shall we study together? We can do the assignment due by next week together” you offer him your signature smile, tilting your head and thinking he wouldn’t say no. Most guys melted when you smiled at them like that.

However, your confidence vanishes when he grimaces and scratches his neck. “Actually, I… I don’t study in groups. Doesn’t work for me”.

Why are you surprised, it is obvious. You always see him alone in the libraries. You curse yourself internally. “Oh, well…”

“I’m sure you will do great though, you seem like a clever girl” the praise coming from his lips make you silently gasp.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Just as he’s about to leave, an idea pops in your head. “Actually, Michael… I’m struggling with this subject.”

Lies. You aren’t a genius like he is, but you can manage. You don’t like maths but you don’t suck at it either, you do good. Enough to pass the subject.

“I was wondering if you could help me” you do your best to sound helpless, knitting your brows and all. “Everyone says you’re a fucking genius, please, Mike?” He swallows hard at the way you practically beg him for help, placing a hand on his elbow.

He doubts only for a few seconds before agreeing. “Ok. I will help you” he yelps as you wrap your arms around him, your tits flash against his chest making him dizzy.

“Oh, thank you Michael!” you pull back, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you smile. “Can we start today? I would tell you to come to my dorm, but my friend Leigh is currently staying there because they found a rat clogging her toilet.” Another big lie.

Michael just nods, he doesn’t really have too many options. “Fine. Uhm, my dorm is on the second floor, 219. I’ll be there at 4pm, bring your notes and a calculator.”

You playfully salute him, like a good soldier. “Yes, Sir” he chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning on his heels to leave.

You can barely contain your joy as you walk towards your dorm, almost singing.

3:40 PM.

You try on different outfits, grunting when you look at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time. You don’t like any fit, and you continue rummaging through the pile of clothes on your bed. You lift your brow as a red fabric catches your attention. It’s the mini skirt Leigh gave you a few weeks ago. You quickly put it on and look at yourself in the mirror once again, happy with the result. Your white baby tee with ‘cherry bomb’ in red letters written on it makes the perfect match.

You grab your notebook and head towards his dorm.

“Coming” you hear Michael’s voice behind the door. He will surely be coming today. He opens the door, breath hitching at the sight of you in that top, your nipples peeking through the fabric. Suddenly he feels his pants are too tight. “Please, come in” he gives you enough space to enter his dorm, which you do. As you walk past him the smell of your perfume fills his nostrils. Fuck.

You smile at him and as he closes the door behind you, you look around the room. It was just what you expected. Everything was perfectly neat, books organised in two bookshelves, more textbooks and notes scattered over the white desk.

“Take a seat over there” he points at the bed, and you gladly do it. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have some crunchies.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” You flash him a sweet smile as you open your bag, looking for your notes and your pen.

Michael sits next to you, keeping a safe distance of course, but close enough you can hear his hard breathing. “Ok, we can start with the basics, and then I’ll help you with the exercises, sounds good?” When you nod, he continues. “Cool. So, think of limits as a way to understand what happens to a function as it gets closer and closer to a certain point without actually reaching it.”

“That sounds paradoxical” you cut him off, and he suppresses a smile.

“It does seem counterintuitive, but it's about observing the behaviour of a function as it gets infinitely close to a specific value.” He continues explaining, and you pay attention to every word that comes out from those beautiful lips.

Michael’s brows lift in surprise as you finish another task quickly, and he’s even more surprised when he checks it and there are no mistakes. He didn’t find any mistakes in the previous 5 exercises he provided for you either. You just look up at him, waiting for his correction.

He looks back at you. “You did perfectly well. Again.” You squeak and he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it. Most students get the first ten exercises horribly wrong, but you solved all of them perfectly. H-how?”

You lean back on your arms, legs crossed. You tilt your head. “Maybe I’m just a quick study, learning from the best” you start moving your feet up his leg, slowly and carefully. He shakes his head as he puts on his glasses again, sighing.

“No. You’re just wasting my time.”

“What?” It’s actually the truth. You are wasting his time, you weren’t having any issues with the subject, you just wanted an excuse. “Ok, yes, I admit it” you lift your hands in defeat, and he curses.

“Why the fuck would you ask for my help if you don’t need it? Fuck, I have many important things to do and you’re here bothering me, leave please.”

You get on your feet quickly as he’s about to turn the doorknob, and you stop him. “No, Michael, please hear me out.” He glares at you, nostrils flaring as you take his wrist and guide him towards his bed, making him sit on the edge. He looks confused, you sit next to him, your knees touching.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For being my knight in shining armour.” He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by placing your index finger there. “No, listen. I know it’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me. Michael, I want you.”

Michael’s eyes widen at your confession. “W-what?”

There’s no way you wanted him. You, out of all the people on the campus. Slowly, you lean in, wetting your lips with your tongue to press them against his mouth. You give him a soft peck before truly kissing him, your hands finding their way towards his tense shoulders. He doesn’t respond yet, but when you bite gently on his lower lip he whimpers, he fucking whimpers, and moves his lips against yours, trying to follow your rhythm. Your lips taste like cherries, and he loves it.

Kissing him feels good. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling how he squirmed under your touch and kisses. You wonder how he would react when you have his cock in your mouth.

You slither your tongue inside his mouth, exploring it as he gets more excited, his hands finally touching you, placed on either side of your waist.

You pull back to catch your breath and he chases your lips. You giggle. “Easy there, lover boy. We have plenty of time.”

“Fuck, I- I… I’ve never done this” you frown, and he sighs. “I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever. That felt really good” he chuckles, and you smile.

“You liked it?” He just nods, and you start placing open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck until you reach his ear and whisper. “Wait until I put my mouth on your cock.”

Michael gulps. “W-what?”

“You think I came here just because I wanted to kiss you? No, Michael” his eyes follow your movements, how you rise from his bed to kneel in front of him, hands undoing his jeans, looking for any sign of discomfort. When you find none, you continue, pulling down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. “I came here because I really, really want this” you purr and lower your gaze to his weeping length, your cunt clenching around nothing already.

Michael’s big. At least, bigger than the ones you had. Curved upward with a protruding vein on the side. You bite your lip as you start stroking him, Michael closes his eyes shut and whimpers. You never heard someone whimper so beautifully. You study every reaction, every microexpression as you continue stroking him at a tantalising pace, as if you are torturing him.

“P-please…” he begs through bated breath, moving his hips as he tries to get some friction, anything.

“You look so beautiful begging, Michael. You’re making me so wet, baby” he cries out your name again, and you smirk. “Michael, open your eyes” you demand, and he does so, breath catching in his throat as he finds you there on your knees, looking at him like you were his predator. It was so fucking sexy.

“I want you to watch as I suck your cock. And you better last more than five minutes. I want you to enjoy it” he nods and swallows hard as you lick your lips before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck” he curses, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles are white. You lick the vein, going from the base upwards, and you hear him sigh. You lick him like you lick a lollipop, and then you take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as your right hand works its way around the base. He’s so big he doesn’t fit completely into your mouth.

You hum around his cock, your eyes closing as you bob your head up and down his shaft, making Michael squirm. He doesn’t know what to do, he just keeps looking at you, unable to tear his gaze from you.

The soft moans that escape his lips, the way he whimpers your name and bucks his hips ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you but eager to get more are enough to make you wet. Hell, you are sure your panties are soaked by now, leaking through the fabric.

His eyes widen as he catches the movement of your left hand that was on his inner thigh going in between your legs, under the skirt. Were you touching yourself?

You bob your head faster and moan around his cock as you tease your wet folds with your fingers. You push two fingers inside your pussy, the room filling with the most obscene sounds you ever heard.

“Are you… are you touching y-yourself?” asks Michael in a strangled moan, watching you intently. You release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, your saliva coating it.

“Of course I am, Michael. I’m fucking wet. Here” you take off your fingers from your pussy to grab his hand, and guide it towards your entrance.

Michael almost passes out. You are, in fact, dripping wet on his fingers. You let him touch you for a moment, grinding your hips against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit so deliciously. “S-shit, Michael” you bite your lip and he grins, happy to earn that reaction from you. You feel him twitch in your hand, the tell tale sign that he was very close to cumming. You remove your hands from your cunt and he frowns.

“Did-did I hurt you?”

“No, baby. But tonight’s about you, ok? I can teach you how to eat my pussy later, yeah? Right now, I want you to cum in my mouth. Whenever you’re ready” you wink at him and he chokes on a sob as you take him into your mouth again, slowly until you feel him in the back of your throat. Some tears well up in your eyes, you moan around his cock and that pushes him.

He bucks his hips and shoots his load deep down your throat, you look at him through your lashes and see how hard he grips the sheets, his chest heaving as he moans your name. He stays still for a while, panting as you swallow his salty cum, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Holy fuck” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath. You get on your feet and plant a kiss on his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Now… shall I… well, uhm” he’s unsure about what to ask.

“Eat my pussy?” you finish for him and he nods eagerly, you giggle. “Another day, baby.”

“But you… you were touching yourself and didn’t get to cum, right? I have to return the favour—”

“No, Michael. Don’t worry” you reassure him with a kind smile, stroking his cheek. You lean in to kiss him again, and then, you whisper in his ear: “I’ll just finger myself until I cum in my bedroom to the thought of you.”

You smirk as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You blow him a kiss, open the door and leave.

let me know what you think! and if you'd like to be tagged as well 🫶🏻

[jimmerzz0905]

CHRISTMAS terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, but I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift UNDER THE TREE, nor have you been called here by SANTA CLAUS, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, MISTLETOES and COAL. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no COOKIES OR MILK. You don't even realize that IT'S DECEMBER 10TH.. Your lust for CHRISTMAS gifts has driven you in endless circles, chasing those SONGS OF CHRISTMAS CAROLERS in some unseen chamber always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never GET ON THE NICE LIST. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave ELF, who somehow found this CHRISTMAS PARTY not intended for you, although there was a GIFT out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am MERRY as well. I am JOLLY. This place is not FESTIVE, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you NAUGHTY-LISTERS trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your GIFTS. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is SNOW and perhaps SANTA CLAUS waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the HIGHEST SPOT ON THE NAUGHTY LIST has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the SACKS OF COAL waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the MERRY. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to LISTEN TO MARIAH CAREY'S ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS U ON LOO[, no one was there to TELL SANTA YOUR WISH the way you HELPED OTHERS SEND THEIRS. And then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to HAVE COAL IN YOUR SOCKING, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have CAROLED WITH. This ends for all of us. End CHRISTMAS.

[hiragikiss]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆！

₊˚ෆ── tags : fluff, slight hurt/comfort, married life, husband & wife, fiancé & fiancee, mentions of kaiser's past (spoiler ig?), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of nudity(no smut), pro athlete!au

₊˚ෆ── including : fiancé!michael kaiser, husband!mikage reo (ft. wife/fiancee! reader)

₊˚ෆ── sum. : hey, where's your ring? why is it off your finger?(should i do part 2. . . ? )

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

when it comes to choosing partner, a person that he wishes to spend the rest of his life with, michael kaiser is very careful about it. he has witnessed the darkness behind a failed marriage for so long and decided to never make a mistake in his own, as to not bear the consequences of poor decision. thus, kaiser has always been so full of love and patience when it comes to you. he has always been as gentle as possible whenever he speaks or touches you.

but, everyone has a limit and seems to react negatively to it in the most non suitable moment ever. you knew he might have been so upset and emotionally disturbed with all of the pent up stress, building up from the pressure of the media, his team and more. however, it does not act as an excuse for him to let it all out on you. that night, he was obviously irritated to the point of snapping at you.

he laid on the sofa, sighing heavily as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down from the sudden bubbling anger rushing through his veins at this very moment. he had just return from an interview regarding to his career updates and happened to be rudely bombarded by nosy paparazzis, causing his phone charm to be lost in that moment. the crowd was too much, he can't reach nor search for the charm, not when the guards were shoving him into the van with protective manner. to the others, it might have been a cheap phone charm that he could purchase any time yet to michael kaiser, it holds so much memories, it meant a lot to him. and you.

you heard your fiancé while you were cleaning up the kitchen. excited to see him, you toss your apron onto the marble kitchen island, making your way towards him. perhaps you were too excited to see him that you didn't notice the still wet floor that you mopped minutes ago, ending with you falling onto the floor with a loud thud, sound of picture frame crashing could be heard as you tried to hold onto a surface to balance yourself but grabbed the wrong thing instead. the loud noise startled kaiser, his anger is pumping rapidly in his veins again, rising up from the sofa and make his way toward the noise.

"love— "

"why can't you be quiet for once? you always had to do something to get on my nerve, don't you?"

your eyebrows furrowed upon his taunting words that are hinted with anger. you knew that he's overstimulated by frustration but it still stir the annoyance in you. who is he to snap at you just because he is feeling negatively?

"wow, my bad i guess. didn't know it'd be a crime to be excited to see my fiancé."

kaiser frowned at your words.

"i don't like your tone."

"right, says the one who started being such a bitch."

"watch your mouth— "

"watch yours first, michael kaiser. look, i don't know what had happen during your interview but can you not take it out on me? i'm not a tool for you to release your stress on. you know what? go cool yourself off, until then we'll talk."

you ignored him as he stood there silently. you fetch your cleaning tools and carefully deal with the broken pieces, placing the picture back on its place while gathering the ruined pieces of broken picture frame into the dust pan. michael only watch your movements, not even a word spoken. he knew you're right and listened to your words as he remove himself from the spot, heading out for a walk.

kaiser spent quite a long moment as he sit by the lazy chair perched up in the garden where you've planted various flowers. the warm white light shining onto each petals and leaves of the flowers, making it appearing more romantic to look at. kaiser's fingers fiddle with his engagement ring hugging his ring finger as he zone out. his mind is clouded with hazy thoughts that are rapidly messing up his mind at this moment, be it from his past or present. he rethink of his behaviour toward you moments ago and sighed heavily. such violent behaviour his, it almost resemble to his abusive male parent back in his childhood.

growing up in violent atmosphere, pain is all he ever learn about. he yearn for love ; to love and to be loved. he spent his childhood imagining what a love would feel like ; is it true that motherly love feels like heaven? is it true that fatherly love feels like you're in the safest universe ever? they said, parents are the hero of every children, yet, why does his abused him and neglected him?

was it because his parent's love were meant to be painful as you yearn more for it? was it because love was never real? or worse, was it because he is just an unlovable child? if love truly exist, why does he need to suffer in order to get a taste of it? they said love is sweet, yet why was it bitter to him? they said love is warm, yet why was he lying on the cold floor as warm fist pounding his fragile body? they said love is soft, yet why was it full of thorns as he held it in his palms?

that was what he was taught about love from the unhealthy surroundings he was locked in. when he met you, he discover what true love is like. he learned that love is when you let out quirky laughs that tingle his ears yet warms up his chest as he laughs along with you ; he learned that love is when you learn about soccer trick online to impress him just for you to clumsily trip, telling him that you'd love to learn more of his passion ; he learned that love is when you hold him tightly as his vulnerable side was exposed when he had failed his own expectation, validating his emotions and never resort to violence to make him quit from feeling low. love with you is what he has always read about on the fairytales storybook that he secretly kept in his room when he was a kid.

you came to him and show him that love isn't always a hard gain yet he hurt you with his action. the thought of you walking away from him suffocate him. he knew he is only imagining about it yet to not see your smile, to not hear your laughter, to not smell your heavenly fragance, to not touches your skin and to not share your warmth is something he could never want to lose.

"god, i fucked up." he cussed under his breathe as he runs into the house, looking for you.

he entered the shared bedroom, heart drop at the sight of your engagment ring placed upon your vanity table. you're not in the room, which adds up to his overthinking. when he heard the soft patterings of shower waters hitting the floor, that's when he knew you're in there. it confirmed his guess when he heard soft sniffles coming from there as he leaned his ear against the door. he was quick to undo his garments and grab your ring, entering the bathroom as quietly as possible.

"darling?"

his heart soften yet saddened at the sight of your crying nude form, standing under the shower head as you try your best to not let out too much sniffles. thank god you're still with him. he makes his way toward you, engulfing you into his chest, holding onto you as his lips raining kisses unto your wet skin.

"please forgive me, my love. i'm sorry for hurting you." he apologised, rubbing your back softly to comfort you.

"must've hurt your ego to apologise to me, huh? serve you right." you countered his words with a hint of sadness in it.

"it hurts even more if i lose you, love. i never want to lose you."

he whispered, lowering his lips to capture yours, apologising to you silently. you closed your eyes, savoring his kiss, letting his lips stiches apology unto yours, a promise to never hurt you again. he parted his lips from you, eyes looking into yours as his palm make its way to caress your cheeks. his hands then moves itself to grab yours, kissing each knuckles before he slides your ring back to its place. he sealed it with another kiss on the ring.

"please, don't leave me, love."

"i won't, darling. i'm here, forever and always."

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

mikage reo, a man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth along with a face blessed by the heaven. he has always knew that his life is well promising and had nothing to worry about. he has always been so generous of his money, be it to use on himself or use it on his friends. just as when he was with his toys when he was a toddler, always sharing it with his play dates or childhood friends. when he reached the age of entering teenager life, he is still so kind when it comes to money matters until it was when he met his friend, nagi seishiro. for once in his life, he dislike sharing, nagi is his friend and nobody could have him.

that goes on until the day he met you. when it comes to you, not even his beloved close friend could have a touch. for the very first time in his life, he is not kind with nagi when it comes to you. nagi wants to play games with you because he heard you're good at it? no need, reo is hiring a famour gamer to play with nagi. nagi would like to hear about your plant pet? no need, reo is buying him a whole nursery of cactus that varies from different species of cactus. nagi was suspicious of reo but he couldn't complaint because at least he is getting something better to ease his boredom.

reo even make it obvious to the other girls that he is yours the moment both of you made it official. reo is well known for using aesthetic hard covers for his phone but when he started dating you, he changed it to clear case, polaroid of you that's his favourite will be placed in it, displaying to others and showing off his lovely lover.

what about you? how do they know that you are mikage reo's lover? it's easy, it's those luxury branded items that you're wearing. he always make sure that most of it are custom made and limited item. it may cause him to spend a little bit extra but hey, if it's you, he'll even sacrifice the world to make sure you're always pretty and well taken care of. he knew how you love to care for yourself from the way you do your skincare, haircare, daily exercises, makeup and dressing up. he loves it as well and enjoys to indulge into it. as long as you're happy, he is happy as well.

that was until today, when he saw a frown on your pretty face. it wasn't common for you to get upset so easily, he wonder what could've cause such discomfort for you. is it the month of your menstrual cycle begin? no way, that'll be on another 2 weeks, he keep tracks on them. is it because your boss was being harsh on you? no way, he started up a business for you to run and support your cute cafe that sell fresh pastries, sweet flowers and refreshing coffee. is it because your favourite show was postponed because of the billing? no way, he made sure to purchase a year worth of membership with the highest graphic quality for you every year. so, what is it that bother you? he makes his way toward you and holds your hand only for you to pulls it away from him quickly, panic eyes staring at his. he noticed how you hide your hand behind you.

"hubby! hi!" you stuttered a little, trying your best to hide whatever you'd like to hide from him.

"you good, dearest? why won't you let me hold your hand?" he asked, his hand moving to grab yours again.

"my skin is too dry, it'd be unpleasant for you to hold them." you told him, removing your hands from his again.

"what a nonsense, you've always been perfect, dear." he praised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"my, thank you. aren't you praising me too much, reo?"

"mm, never, dear."

he kisses your lips this time, distracting you from his hand caressing yours, pulling away when he finally caught unto the reason of you hiding your hands from him. he looks into your eyes, scrunching up his nose when he noticed you're getting a bit shy from his full attention and affection.

"what?" you pouted.

"you're so cute and silly too, dear." reo teased, giggling when you playfully frowned at him.

he fish out a velvet box from his back pocket, showing it to you as he opens them. inside, is your wedding ring, the one that you thought you had lost it. you gasp and look at him.

"how?! i thought i lost it!"

"i took them for a cleaning, remember? how could you be so forgetful, dear."

reo smiles as he gets onto one knee, holding your hand gently as he slips it back onto your ring finger. standing up, he kisses the back of your hand. he is so amused with your expression at the moment, all flustered just like how he proposed to you before.

"why were you not telling the truth while ago, hm?" reo questioned.

"knowing you, you'd buy new ones if i truly lost it— "

"why, of course. i'll buy you as many rings as possible, as long as you're happy."

of course he would, how could you doubt him? he is your husband who love to spoil you a little too much.

"thank you, but i'd love to lower the usage of our money, you know?"

"why? is your cafe's billing getting higher? i'll— "

"reo hubby, no. little mikage is on the way, of course we should be spending wisely, right?"

"oh, right, yea— wait. what?!"

you laughed at his reaction. my, your husband is so entertaining.

"yes, dear. we're having a baby!"

reo laughs happily as he hugs you, carefully yet tightly.

"i'm calling nagi, he needs to know that he is an uncle now!"

and you know you did the right thing when you accepted his ring of promises and afraid of losing it. he promised to make you the happiest person ever and he did fulfilled his promises. or should you say, he has always been fulfilling his promises and sealed his promise to eternity.

© HIRAGIKISS 2024 | do not repost my contents to any other platforms.

masterlist . pinned post

[pretty-little-mind33]

bsfd!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You'd kept your relationship with James a secret up until you couldn't anymore. Pt. 2 of Lavender Haze (might wanna read or you'll probably be confused <3)

Genre: Angsty hurt and comfort (smut-ish)

Warnings: fictional age-gap relationship (20f, 40m), heavy making out (fingering), swearing, getting caught, slut shaming, very angry!harry, protective!james

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

James sends you a look from across the room, the look, and your heart pounds. He is in the middle of a conversation with Remus Lupin, your old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and you suddenly find it very hard to concentrate on the conversation you're supposedly having with Hermione.

Three months. Your relationship with James had managed to stay a secret for three months, and you honestly don't know how.

"And so—Y/n? Are you even listening?" Hermione asks, looking at you suspiciously. Ron's arm is draped over her shoulders as he talks with Harry—and Harry, who is holding Ginny's hand.

You look at your friends. Fuck, you think, you must look so pathetically alone.

You answer Hermione quickly, "No, I'm sorry. I am listening," you smile and sneak a glance at James again. Huge mistake considering he's still wearing that look on his face; the one you've learned to read oh so well.

"Actually, I have to use the loo," you mutter, standing up. Hermione frowns, but she doesn't say a thing as you walk down the hallway.

When you reach the small bathroom, you open it and then shut it behind you quietly. You sit on the toilet, nails in your mouth as you wait. A few moments later, the door opens and someone way too familiar slides in. You stand. You feel like the air inside your chest has been ripped from you when he turns and your eyes meet his.

"Funny, it always starts with a bathroom," James jokes in a whisper, causing you to smile. In seconds, his lips are on yours, and he's hoisting you onto the tiny sink. "Bloody hell," he mutters when you subconsciously run your hand up and down his chest, clutching at his shirt.

"I missed you," you pout.

"You talked to me barely thirty minutes ago," he chuckles, "When you kicked my ass in wizard's chess, remember?"

"Yeah, but I mean I missed you like this," you say with a smirk and start to unbutton his shirt. "Mine," you clarify and kiss his cheek quickly. James smiles and dips his head as he nibbles on your exposed shoulder.

"Yours," he whispers and then continues in one breath, "You drive me absolutely insane, dressed in this mini dress," his hand rides the side of your dress up your thighs and then his hand reaches your middle. He looks at you sternly, and you send him a small wink, "No panties? What a naughty girl."

"Only for you," you moan and arch a little when you feel him suddenly ease one finger into you. Just one. One torturous finger that he teases you with. "James," you moan, holding onto his wrist and almost begging him to do something.

Just as his lips attach themselves to your neck and he begins to caress your clit, the latch to the bathroom lock suddenly clicks and the door opens. James's head snaps up too quickly, and he accidentally hits you in the nose. You yelp in pain.

"Dad?" Harry's voice cuts through the tension, and your stomach drops. Immediately, your arms cross over your chest as James spins around and shields you behind him.

"Merlin, get away from her!" Harry suddenly screams out and yanks his father out of the bathroom and into the small hallway.

Adjusting your dress, you rush to follow them and try to explain the situation. "Harry, it's okay! I wanted him," you blurt out as an attempt to calm Harry's anger, but it only makes the entire situation so much worse.

"You wanted my dad!?" Harry screams, and everyone in the living room turns their attention to you three. Your cheeks turn warm, and you're frozen in place. Harry looks distraught, while the guests just look confused, and you want to cry.

"Don't yell at her," James says firmly and frees himself from his son's grasp. He holds Harry's shoulder, taking on a more authoritative parental tone, "Calm down."

Harry just looks more furious. "You're fucking my best friend, and you're telling me to calm down?!!" he accuses, and your tears fall uncontrollably. "She's too young for you, you disgusting pervert," he insults his father as he slaps James's hand away from him.

James looks a mix of ashamed and annoyed. "Harry," he starts, but he's completely taken aback by the punch Harry lands on his cheek. Scared, you rush to James's side without thinking and clutch onto his arm.

"And you," Harry's murderous gaze lands on you this time, and he walks up, causing you to stumble back. "You fucking slut," he hisses, his words a little slurred from the drinks he'd had and full of anger even as Ginny's hand finds his to calm him down.

You feel like you've been punched. You know what you did was wrong—you know Harry has every right to be furious with you—but still, his words hurt.

"Oi!" James's voice booms and he grasps Harry's shoulder again, pushing him away from you. "Do not speak to her like that, you hear me?" he sounds stern, and he looks around the room at everyone staring, then at Harry.

"Take a walk outside. Now," James demands, and his gaze flickers to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, silently asking them to bring Harry to the garden and have him take a few breaths.

You stand to the side, still crying as the world moves around you in slow motion. James's friends take this as a sign to leave, sending you sympathetic smiles as if they already knew anyway, but you don't focus on that as you lean against the wall and anxiously chew at your nails until blood drips from your finger.

"Hey," James whispers, his hand finding yours, and he brings your bleeding finger to his lips, sucking the blood to soothe you. "It's okay."

You shake your head. "No, it isn't okay, James."

James's shoulders tense, and he moves his hand to the side of your face. "Hey, shh, pretty girl, we wanted them all to know at some point, right?" he reminds you, alluding to the many late-night conversations you'd had over the last three months—conversations you assumed would always remain in the confines of James's bedroom.

You look up at James, and he looks deadly serious.

"Right?" he asks again, gently holding your cheeks in his hands as his thumb wipes away your tears.

You nod, and James rewards you with a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, there's my good girl," he mutters and holds your cheek, kissing your cheek again. "He'll be fine," James says softly, mentioning Harry. You tense.

"He's my best friend," you whisper. "I don't want to lose him."

James runs his fingers through your hair. "You are not gonna lose him, my darling," he says, but he doesn't sound as sure as he'd like, and you can tell.

James decides he should speak to Harry first, which means you're left sitting on the couch in the living room, biting your nails until you draw blood while James is with his son in the garden.

"How long?" Ron speaks up, his voice strained and high-pitched. He's sitting on the floor across from you with Hermione, her hand in his lap. Ginny stands in the corner of the room, her arms crossed.

"Three months," you sniff and quickly add, "I didn't mean for this to happen—"

"Three months is an awfully long time, Y/n," Hermione interrupts, "and you didn't think to tell Harry?"

"He deserved to know," Ginny's voice sounds strained. She's clearly upset that her boyfriend is upset. It's understandable; you can't blame her.

"Of course I did! But, what was I supposed to say?" you exclaim, "Please, tell me, what's worse? - 'Hey, Harry, I’m fucking your dad,' or 'Hey, Harry, I'm in love with your dad?'"

The room instantly turns silent.

"In love?"

Your chest heaves. You bury your face in your hands. "Yeah," you squeak. "I don't know how it happened, it just did. And these feelings, I can't turn them off," you say, looking up at your friends. "I've tried," you add in a whisper.

Hermione looks understanding while Ginny grumbles something under her breath. She still isn't happy. Ron looks confused, but he decides against making a comment because Hermione is drawing soothing circles around his palm as a silent warning.

After a few moments longer, James walks into the room from the garden and he looks around the room at everyone. He looks a little exhausted, but he doesn't look sad or angry. He focuses his attention on you, smiling a little as he walks over and takes your hand, lifting you up. No one else speaks as they hold their breaths.

"Harry wants to talk to you," James informs you, his voice low. You can tell he wants to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead, but he's holding himself back. He chooses to squeeze your hand instead, nodding his head to the back door. You look at him, unsure, but you drop his hand anyway and walk to the door.

It's a warm evening, so when you walk outside onto the grass, you aren't very cold in your dress. Still, you wrap your arms around yourself for comfort and security as your heart sinks when you see Harry sitting on the cement steps, his hands in his hair. He hears you and looks behind him, not protesting when you sit next to him.

You feel the air on your skin as your mind races, and you think of something to say to him that doesn't sound stupid.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry breaks the tension, his voice strained.

There is that question again.

You pick nervously at your nails and answer honestly. "What could I have said to you to make this better?" you whisper.

"So you know it's fucked up," Harry deadpans.

Your eyes widen, and you bite your lip, holding your knees. "I mean, yes. I know it's not exactly ideal—but, I love him, Harry. I really love him, and I didn't mean for it to happen, it just—happened. I know I should have told you, but I didn't know how."

Harry is silent as he takes in your words. He's picking at his jeans, his jaw clenched. "You're my best friend, and he's my dad. It's messed up."

Your heart sinks.

"I– I don't want to lose you, Harry. And I can't lose him either. Please don't make me choose," you say, holding in tears, and for the first time, Harry looks at you and his gaze travels across your features.

"You'd choose him, wouldn't you?" Harry whispers, his voice shaky, "Because you love him, and he loves you. Bloody hell, he'd choose you over me too."

I shake my head. "Harry, no. Your dad loves you more than anyone. I don't think he'd choose me over you. No matter how much he loves me, he's always your dad first. If you gave him the ultimatum and said you didn't want him to date me, I think he would listen."

Harry sighs, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna do that, Y/n. We're adults. I'm not a kid anymore, and I can handle you dating my dad—or I will be able handle it with time—and I just wish someone would have told me because finding you like that in the bathroom was traumatizing."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," you say quickly.

His expression turns serious again. "Promise me this wasn't a thing when we were in school because I—"

You cut him off and laugh. "Oh my god, no! Never! I know he didn't see me like that when we were younger, Harry. I promise. This is completely new, and I would never be with him if he had seen me like that as a kid," you say seriously.

"Yeah, he said the same," Harry says, and he sounds like he's made up his mind. His jaw ticks and he takes your hand as he pulls you in for a hug. You can still feel his apprehension around the situation but you can't complain.

"Listen, you're my best friend and as my best friend, all I want is your happiness but I need time. Time to wrap my head around all this—oh and I also need you to promise never to talk about anything that has to do with my dad in front of me?"

"I pinky swear," you say instantly, having no desire to have Harry know anything about your relationship with James.

Harry links pinkies with you and he seems satisfied by your answer. He stands to walk inside and you shake your head, silently telling him you want to stay outside a little longer. Harry nods his head and disappears into the house.

After a few minutes, your arms wrapped around your knees as you stare into the dimming light, you sense someone sitting beside you.

It's James. You can smell his cologne.

He turns and rests one hand on your knee, smiling when you lean into him instinctively. "Hi, lovely," he mumbles, moving you inside his side. "You did so good," he continues and kisses your cheek. "I love you. Everything is gonna be okay, mhm. Harry's gonna be fine." James reassures you.

You nod, feeling comforted by James's warmth, and you let out a relieved sigh.

"I like not having to hide anymore," you admit, your hands finding James's as you mindlessly play with his fingers. "It's nice."

James hums. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yeah," you look into his eyes and smile, "I really like it."

James's heart skips, and he leans down, capturing your lips in his for a moment, and all feels okay again.

[crashandlivewrites]

Venom on My Tongue

This has been my baby for a long time. I've put a lot of love into this and thought it was finally time to share it with everyone. Much love to @soapsgf for being with me through all of it.

Pairing: Captain MacTavish x fem!reader

Summary: It started tame. A bartender and a patron with too many burdens bottled up that he'd rather empty another than tip himself over and let it all out. But ethanol fires burn invisible, and you couldn't see the cracks forming until it was too late.

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, (very) toxic relationship, sex, DUBCON/NONCON with one scene but it's very prominent, angst

Word Count: 28.7k

You weren’t supposed to be working tonight. In fact, this was your seventh night shift of the week, and you were running on fumes, as apparently, were all the army personnel at the bar right now. Grabbing the dustpan and brush, you swept up the eighth glass that had been smashed tonight within the span of two hours. 

Once the mess had been cleaned, you disposed of the shattered glass and returned to the front, feeling thankful the night was almost over. Service wise, at least. You’d already started closing, making sure the bar itself was clean, and the glasses were in the wash when your ears caught an indignant sounding tap on the bar. Raising your head, you noticed a young guy, probably a fresh recruit to the army base nearby, given the cocky spring to his step and glowing face. He hadn’t been through enough to have his emotions beaten down like the other veterans had. 

“Just another pint of lager, if you please.” He winked, elbows leaning on the bar. Gritting your teeth, you sighed in annoyance. 

“Last call was half an hour ago, mate. The bar’s closed.” 

“Aw, come on. I’ll make it worth your time.” He pulled a twenty-pound note from his wallet, wiggling it in front of his face. Your eyes narrowed. 

“An extra twenty means nothing when my job is on the line. The answer is no.” 

“I didn’t hear the call, musta been in the loo. I’ll keep it a secret, swear!” Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you shook your head, turning your body around and calling over your shoulder. 

“The answer’s no. Now get moving. or I’ll have you escorted out.” 

The recruit’s eyes hardened, and his tone turned sharp. 

“You’re a right fucking bitch, you know that? It ain’t that fucking hard to pour a pint. Should learn some proper respect for us soldiers—” He was interrupted by a loud slam, and he let out a sharp cry. Whipping around, you saw the young recruit cupping his face, blood pouring profusely from his clearly broken nose. Standing behind him was the broad man who’d been quietly sitting on the corner of the bar, drinking scotch all night. 

“Think ye need tae have a lesson in respect, crow.” The newcomer’s accented voice was gruff and short, his hand gripping the collar of the recruit’s jacket. 

“Just wanted another fuckin’ drink!” 

“And the lassie said the bar’s closed, ye doaty bawbag.” The tall Scot leered down at the recruit, who had finally shut his mouth. “Why don’t you and yer pals take yer leave for the night? Yer nae wanted.”

Mumbling incoherently under his breath, the young man backed off, scowling at the Scot, but didn’t press the matter, heading back to his friends and leaving your bar. Sighing in relief, you turn to the man, a smile on your face. 

“A sheòid.” You thanked him, in what you were sure was a terrible pronunciation of Scottish Gaelic that you’d picked up from the last group of Scotsmen that had passed through the bar. To prove your point, the man snorted, shaking his head as he smirked. “I’d offer you a drink in thanks but, bar’s closed.” 

“It’s nae bother.” He shrugged, reaching over to drain the last of his glass, placing it on the bar in front of you before nodding and running a hand through his ridiculous haircut. “Take care o’ yerself, lassie.” And then he was gone. 

•••

The next time you saw the mysterious man was on a busy Friday night. Army personnel were mixing with the regular townsfolk, making the bar rowdier than normal. You had been serving a group of men their drinks when he slipped in, the mohawk shaved into his head making him stand out, as he made his way over to the same spot at the end of the bar that he’d occupied last time. You hadn’t realised you’d been watching him so intensely until you felt cold liquid spilling onto your hand. Cursing at yourself, you shut off the tap and wiped the glass before handing it over. 

Wiping down the mess you’d created and washing your hands, you reached up on the shelf for the same scotch he’d ordered last time. It was perfectly normal to remember his drink of choice, you reasoned with yourself. He’d helped you after all. Pouring a glass, you took it over to him, his brows furrowing slightly. 

“I didnae order anythin’.” He said, lifting his head up to stare at you. The gaze was steely, but you held it firmly. 

“It’s the drink I owe you. For last time.” 

“Didnae do it fer charity.” Now it was your turn to frown. 

“Do you want the drink or not?” Instead of receiving another gruff reply, the man chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I’m havin’ ye on, lassie. Keep the heid.” Bristling as he laughed, you pushed the glass towards him before turning around and heading back to serve. 

It wasn’t until the end of the night when you got the chance to speak to him again. You hadn’t served him, having purposely put yourself on station at the other end of the bar. But you were closing, and the other servers had eventually clocked out, leaving you alone with a couple of drunkards and the grumpy Scot, with most folk having moved on to more livelier venues. 

You’d begun to clean when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye tap his empty glass on the counter. 

“Dinnae ignore me, lassie. It’s nae my fault ye cannae take a joke.” 

“I’ve been busy. And you’ve clearly been served.” You pointed to the glasses he’d collected to his left. 

“Aye, nae by you though.” 

“And whose fault is that?” 

“Och, c’mon lassie. Ye ken I didnae mean it.” He was smirking, clearly enjoying the fact he was riling you up. Taking a deep breath in and out, you placed your towel on the bar and turned towards him. 

“Do you want another?” You asked, motioning to the empty glass. His smirk morphed into a grin, and he slid the glass over to you. 

“Ta, lassie.”

•••

The next time, he hadn’t even been in the bar. In fact, you hadn’t even noticed him at all. You were rummaging through your bag under the dim light of the streetlamp which, maybe, wasn’t the smartest idea in hindsight, but your car keys had simply vanished. Swearing under your breath, you began shuffling things to the side and pulling stuff out, placing it on top of your car. You were so entirely focused on the interior of your bag, that you didn’t hear anyone approaching until it was too late. 

Something sharp and hard pressed against your back and your breath hitched, body freezing instantly as your eyes widened, glancing in the window of your car to see a hooded figure behind you. 

“Gimme the bag.” The man spat viciously, nudging you forward slightly so your chest was pressed against the cool metal. 

“Okay! Just take it.” Your voice pitched higher than normal, quickly working the straps of your bag off your shoulder to hold it out to the man. But he never took it. 

Instead, his weight was gone and the sick sound of a fist hitting flesh made you jump. Whipping around, you see a large man with a familiar mohawk shaved into his head, crouching over your would-be mugger. 

“Ye think yer brave?” You heard him sneer as he pressed the man’s face into the gravel of the car park. “Sneakin’ up on a lassie. Yer a right cunt.” You flinched again as his fist collided with the man’s face, causing him to let out a low moan of pain. Reaching down, the Scot hauled the mugger to his feet before shoving him away. Disoriented, he stumbled back, a hand up defensively. 

“I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to—”

“A load of fucking pish yer talkin’. Fuck off or I’ll cut ye baws from ye nethers.” The mugger— just a kid you’d come to realise now that his hood had fallen back— scrambled away from John, bolting into the night with his tail between his legs. 

Shrinking back against your car, you hugged your half-emptied bag to your chest as the man turned around. His face was harsh, still drawn in a scowl as he looked over his shoulder at you. 

“Are ye askin’ tae get hurt? Dinnae walk wit yer head in the clouds.” His tone was harsh and his eyes sharp. 

“I was just trying to find my keys.” You choked out, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in your throat. “I didn’t realise— I’m sorry!” You hiccuped and the man’s angry expression fell, replaced by concern. 

“Shite, I didnae mean tae scare ye. C’mere lassie.” He stepped forward with open arms and, against your better judgement, you found yourself moving forward to be held. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you tight into his chest. He smelled strongly of tobacco, enough that it normally would make your nose curl in disgust, but in this instance, you buried your face in his chest, seeking his protection and comfort. 

 The man held you until he felt your breathing slowly level out. Gently, he squeezed your shoulders until you lifted your head to look at him. 

“Awryt?” He tilted his head to the side, raising the scarred brow as he looked down at you, his blue eyes much softer than they had been before. 

“I think so.” Your eyes traced over the features of his face, lingering on the scar across his chin. “Who are you?”

“John.” He said simply. You frowned.

“I need more to go on than a name, John.”

“S’all I can tell ye. Any more will bring ye more trouble than I’m worth.” 

“Thank you, John.” You let your head fall back into his chest, breathing in his tobacco-laced scent once more, as you slide your hands underneath his jacket, holding him close. His chest rumbled as he chuckled lightly, a hand running through your hair. 

“I’ll take care of ye, darlin. Dinnae fash yer wee head.” 

•••

The next time he popped his head into the bar, it was a quiet night mid-week, and you couldn’t stop the delighted grin from spreading over your cheeks. 

“John!” You greeted as he sat down, already reaching for his usual and pouring a glass. The twinge of amusement in his expression was easily read, his eyes twinkling as they bored into yours. 

“Ye been waitin’ on me or something, darlin?” He asked, reaching for the glass. 

“Or something.” You teased, throwing the towel over your shoulder as your expression turned slightly more serious. “I don’t think I ever—”

“Dinnae thank me, lassie. Please. Wasnae doin’ it fer praise.” Your face fell, brows knitting together as you let out a soft ‘oh’ before making a move to turn around. A hand gripped your wrist, making you look back. “I meant ye dinnae need to thank me. I was just lookin out fer ye. Makin’ sure yer safe ‘n all. Bonnie lass such as yerself shouldnae be working alone late at night.” 

You couldn’t stop the heat that was climbing up your cheeks at his compliment, so you ducked your head. 

“Still. You could have gotten hurt.”

John barked out a laugh, making you jump back in surprise at the intensity of it. The wrinkles around his eyes creased, keeping the wide grin on his face as he looked back at you. 

“It’s sweet ye think they could hurt me.” 

“They could have! The mugger had a knife—”

“He had a screwdriver, lassie. ‘Sides, I’ve dealt wit much more out on the job.” It was the first time he’d ever mentioned work in front of you. Yes, you’d assumed he was a soldier, a highly skilled one at that. They carried a certain look about them, one they all shared. And John had that look about him, while also bearing an air of something slightly more sinister. You refilled his glass as you spoke, glancing over your shoulder to check there was no one waiting at the bar. 

“I now know four things about you.” You announced. His brow raised with interest as he took a sip. “Your name’s John, you’re a trained soldier, you drink scotch, and you have a penchant for protecting poor girls like me.” 

He gave a breathy chuckle, shaking his head at your conclusions. 

“Almost right, lassie. I like protecting you.” The last word was said with a heated intensity, causing you to swallow thickly. Burning questions bubbled up your throat, threatening to spill, but you managed to keep your mouth shut, asking none of them. 

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your service.” 

“No need. Keep refilling the glass and I’ll be fine.” He said, draining the glass. 

“Watch yourself, John. I might need to cut you off if you’ve had too much.” You refilled his cup yet again. His brow pinched in mock offence. 

“I’d sooner keel over before ye see me pished enough tae cut me off.” 

“We’ll see then.” You mused, raising your brow and, regretfully, turning back to your duties. 

He proved you right, still being able to stand and talk coherently even hours later. Well, coherent for him at least. He was the last customer of the night, sitting silently as he watched you clean up. 

“You know you can head out, right? You don’t need to stay on my account.” 

“Need I remind ye what happened last time?” His tone was a little sterner, warning you not to argue the point. You ignored it. 

“That was the first time it happened. And I’ve been much more careful since then.” You argued, hand on your hip. 

“Yer cute when yer mad.” He smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief as he pushed himself up. He walked towards you as you wiped the last table, sucking your teeth in annoyance at how easily this man had wormed his way under your skin. “But I’m glad tae hear ye’ve been keepin’ watch. Hate tae have something happen tae ye wee self when I’m not around.” 

He leaned on the bar, watching you closely as you finished closing up. You wracked your brains for something remotely witty to throw back at him. 

“You know, for a big man you walk awfully quietly.” 

“Necessary fer the job, darlin’.” 

“It’s almost creepy.” 

He shrugged, clearly amused by you. 

“Dae I make ye nervous, wee hen?” He cocked his head arrogantly, a cheshire-like smile spreading wider on his face. 

“You’ve beat up two men for me. I’d be stupid not to be wary.” It was the truth. He huffed a laugh, voice deepening as he spoke. 

“Good. Ye’d be foolish tae not be afraid of me.”

Your lips parted as he stepped closer, reaching out to brush strands of your hair out of your eyes. He stayed there, face mere inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes, searching. His presence felt overwhelming; his smell, his size, his demeanour, his appearance… 

“John.” Whispering softly, pleadingly, you tilted your head up ever so slightly as your hand gripped the hard wood of the bar. 

“Get yer coat, darling.” He breathed, stepping back. “It’s late. Ye need tae get home.” 

Frowning, you felt your heart thump in disappointment as you watched his retreating form. Making sure everything was locked one final time, you shrugged on your coat and grabbed your bag, walking to the back door and locking it behind you. 

John was waiting there, the familiar scent of his cigar smoke lingering in the air before you could even see him. 

“Why are you doing this?” You called into the dark. The soft glow of his cigar gave his position away as he inhaled. 

“Am I not allowed tae care about yer safety?” Sighing in frustration, your shoulders dropped as you looked at him, lingering in the shadows. 

“Why do you care, John? I don’t know you; you don’t know me.” Breathing heavily, John stubbed out his cigar and stepped forward into the light of the streetlamp. 

“Ye ken, I’m not a good man, lassie. Ye should keep away from me.” 

Snorting indignantly, you shake your head in exasperation. “You’re making that extremely difficult when you’re the one showing up at my workplace and wanting to claim all of my attention.”

“I’m not a good man.” He repeats, eyes unwavering and face set as he takes another step towards you. “Tell me tae leave, tae stay away from ye.” 

Breath hitching, you looked up at him, trying to read his expression and seeing the internal conflict. You shake your head, refusing to back down, as he uses his body to crowd you against the wall. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your cheeks, making your nose crinkle. 

“You smell like tobacco.” 

“I’ve got mints in my car.” He responds just as quickly. The fight in you that was already waning in the bar earlier was practically gone at this point. 

“I’m not going to tell you to stay away. I don’t want you to go.” A lump formed in your throat as his nose brushed against yours. 

“I willnae let anything happen tae ye, darlin. I promise ye that.” He whispered softly, a calloused hand sliding up the back of your neck before he pulled your lips up to meet his. 

Moaning softly, your eyes fluttered closed as you slid your hands up his chest, gripping the front of his shirt and holding him to you. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, the remnants of the cigar making the kiss bitter, but it was something so intensely John that it made you crave more. 

His fingers ran through your hair, clutching tighter as the kiss grew more intense. His breath was ragged, fanning over your cheek as he groaned into the kiss, pressing his body against yours and pressing you harder against the wall. His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss as it felt like he was pouring all his emotion into this one moment.

And then he pulled back, slowly breaking the kiss as he breathed heavily. Swallowing, your eyes fluttered open as you panted, looking up at him in confusion. 

“What’s wrong?” Concern filled your voice as you reached up to cup his cheek. 

“Ye need tae get some rest. I’m keepin’ ye. Let’s get ye home, awryt?” 

“You’re strangely sweet, for a mysterious soldier who’s broken the noses of two men all in the name of my honour.” The corners of your mouth twitched into a teasing smile that was reflected on his face. 

“Call me chivalrous, darlin’.” 

“My knight in shining armour.”

“Wouldnae go that far.” He mused, his large hand sliding down to the small of your back as he steers you towards your car.

•••

He disappeared for a while after that, leaving a hole in your heart as empty as the spot at the end of the bar. It was stupid, you thought, pining and worrying about a man you knew virtually nothing about. But you couldn’t help yourself. 

Since you didn’t even have his bloody number, you couldn’t even message him to ask if he was alright, or when he was coming back. However, given the supposed nature of his job, he was liable to not answer depending on where he was stationed and how secretive his mission was.

To occupy the space he’d carved out for himself in your mind, you found yourself rethinking the kiss over and over again, running it through your head. The memory of his smell and taste occupied your thoughts to the point you’d even gone out specifically to find the cologne he wears, only to never find one that smelt right. 

It was late, way past when you usually left, but some idiot had decided to throw his shoe over the bar, sending alcohol bottles flying, clearing most of the bottom shelf and smashing the mirror behind. You’d closed the bar early in a fit of rage, sending everyone packing unceremoniously. Wiping your face in frustration, you finally cleared all the broken glass and spilled alcohol from the bench and the floor when you heard the door open. 

“We’re closed!” You snapped, not even bothering to turn around. “Read the sign.”

“Aye, but I cannae read, lassie.” The familiar drawl of his accented voice caused you to perk up and whip around. Sure enough, John was standing in the doorway looking particularly rugged, as if he’d gotten back recently, and this was one of his first stops. “Ye gonna blame a man fer wantin tae see yer bonnie wee face after a long couple o’ months?”

“John!” You cried, sprinting out from behind the bar and leaping into his arms in sheer excitement. He let out an amused noise of surprise, but wrapped his arms around you eagerly, holding you close and lifting you off the ground with ease.  

“Miss me that much, aye?” He teased as you buried your face into his neck, inhaling the scent your heart had been yearning for. 

“You were gone. I had no idea if you were safe or even alive. No means to contact you, either.” You dropped the last sentence, in hopes he’d pick up your meaning. 

“Ye of wee faith, lassie.” The tone was light as he squeezed you one final time before setting you down. “I’m out of range fer a lot of it, but I s’pose I wouldnae mind havin a way tae contact ye if yer not workin.”

Beaming happily, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. His lips twitched into a half smile as his thumbs typed on the screen before handing the device back to you. 

John M. 

“I now also know your last name started with an M.”

“That ye dae. What’s got ye caught up this late? Been waiting outside fer a wee bit.” Your heart gave a happy thump at the thought of him waiting for you to finish, of him wanting to spend time with you. Sighing, you gestured to the bar. 

“Just finished cleaning up this mess, and now I’ve got to take stock of the inventory that was smashed and remove all the other bottles from the shelf in case the mirror behind cracks more overnight. Then I’ve got to file an incident report, send an email to the boss so he can arrange for someone to come out and replace the mirror. On top of my usual closing duties.” 

John’s brows drew together in a frown as he looked down at you with concern, hearing the weariness in your voice. Pulling you in for another hug, he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

“Tell me what I can dae tae help.” 

“No, I can’t ask that of you. You’ve been away for ages. You're probably tired and—”

“Darlin…” His voice was soft as he tilted your head up, cupping your cheek gently. “I’m nae asking fer yer permission. I’m helping.”

As much as you hated to admit it, having John help out did make everything move a lot quicker. You felt guilty, making him work when he was back, but he refused to acknowledge you whenever you brought up paying him for his time. Instead, he requested payment in information, and spent most of the time asking you questions about your life:

Where were you born? What was your childhood like? Do you have any siblings? Where are they now? What drove you to work here? Do you have any dreams or aspirations? 

But whenever you retaliated with a question of your own, you were met with a chuckle and two annoyingly frustrating words. 

“That’s classified.” 

“Who are you? Some kind of secret service spy?” 

“I told ye before, lassie. Getting tae ken me will just bring ye more harm than good.”

“Then shouldn’t you stay away from me?” There was a spark of challenge in your voice and John snorted, looking up from where he was on the other side of the bar to stare at you with a dark smirk on his face. 

“I’m not a good man.” He repeated his words from the time just before he’d first kissed you, and it sent shivers down your spine. 

“On the contrary, you’ve done little to prove that point to me. Here you are on your own time helping me out to get home quicker. I don’t see how that qualifies as you being a bad man, John.” 

“Maybe I selfishly only want ye tae see the good side of me.” He winks before turning back to what he was doing, effectively shutting down the conversation. 

The long hours and lack of sleep finally caught up to you, and you felt yourself drifting off as you were typing away on the computer in the back office. Every time John poked his head in, your eyes were drooping, and you could only manage a weak hum in reply. 

“Awryt, that's it. I’m takin ye home.” He loomed over you, shutting down the computer despite your protests. “No, yer barely keeping yerself upright. Yer going home.” 

You couldn’t even struggle against him as he bundled you into your car and soon enough, you found yourself being carried into your bedroom. It was only when he placed you gently down on your bed that you shook your head to clear it. 

“How did you know where I lived?” You mumbled, looking up at him with furrowed brows. John gives you a look that leaves you feeling slightly unsettled, though you put that down to being delirious. 

“It’s on yer drivers' licence.” Oh. Now that made you feel stupid for assuming. 

“Thought you were a creepy stalker for a moment. Getting up all up in my business, knowing all my personal information when I don’t know anything about you.” 

“Yer the one lettin’ strange men into yer flat, lassie.” 

“I didn’t let you in. You let yourself in.” You said smugly, wrapping yourself in your blankets as you rested your head on the pillows. “And you’re not a stranger.” 

“Ye dinnae even ken my last name.” He chuckled, brushing hair out of your face again, his eyes tender.

“Because you won’t tell me. Is it MacGregor?” 

“No.”

“Macmillan?”

“No.”

“Mac—”

“How dae ye ken it starts with ‘Mac’, lassie?”

“Because you’re Scottish.” You replied, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. He snorted out a laugh at your reasoning before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Get some rest. I’ll see ye later.” 

•••

On a rare weekend night that you weren’t working, you found yourself out with a couple of friends. You wouldn’t say that you were drunk, but you were definitely not sober, floating in a happy medium as you moved your hips in time with the music, feeling yourself as you dance with your friends. It felt nice to be on the other side of the bar for once, letting your hair down and getting loose with people you hadn’t seen in far too long.

It was your turn to buy a round and so when a song you weren’t familiar with began to blast from the speakers; you motioned towards the bar to your friends before clutching your phone and heading over, leaning onto the bar and waiting your turn. 

The man standing next to you turned, staring at you with a smile. He was tall, you noticed, but wouldn’t be someone you’d look twice at. Not while you have your mind currently occupied with a handsome, mysterious man in your… situationship? If you could even call it that. 

“Having a good night?” He asked loudly over the music. Not wanting to be impolite, you gave him a small smile. 

“Yeah, just out with my friends.” You say neutrally, nodding your head yet casting your eyes back to the bar, waiting for your turn to be served, but the man wasn’t done just yet. 

“What’re you guys drinking? I’ll shout. Maybe we can link up with my mates after, whaddya say?” He nudges your shoulder, prompting you to glance up again. 

“Thanks for the offer, but we’re really just wanting a girl’s night.” You tried to keep your tone flat and disinterested, hoping it’ll deter him, but knowing your luck, it wouldn’t. Even when you were working, it took a lot for some men to get the hint, especially when inebriated. 

“My treat then? Come on, sweetheart. It’ll be fun. You can save your money and buy another round somewhere else?” He threw an arm around you, pulling you into him despite your resistance. 

“Please, it’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to take advantage of that.” Placing your hands in the centre of his chest, you tried to push him back. Thankfully, his grip loosened, and you managed to lift your head up. “I have someone, and so do my friends.” 

It wasn’t a straight up lie. You did have John, whatever you had between the two of you. Yes, you may have only kissed him once and yes, you hadn’t known him for that long in the whole scheme of things, but he stayed late to help you tidy the bar after the accident and then drove you home, tucking you into bed. That had to mean something, right? 

“I don’t see him here.” The guy gestured around, pulling you in closer and making your heart sink. “He won’t know. Besides, if you were my girl, I wouldn’t let you out alone, anyway. Pretty things like you should be kept in eyesight at all times.” 

It was at this point the bartender finally made his way over to you, and you leaned forward, telling him your order, thankful to have your attention away from the creep next to you. Nodding, the bartender placed three glasses out and began to make the drinks. 

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that.” You grit your teeth as the sleaze’s voice made its way into your ears again, and you felt a hand slide across your back. 

“Stop, please. I’ve told you; I’ve got a boyfriend.” With someone pressed against your other side at the bar, you couldn’t exactly step away from him, and he knew that. The bartender placed the drinks in front of you, and before you could even move, the guy paid for them. Cursing, you looked around, trying to see if there was anyone you could catch the attention of for help. 

“Not dressed like that, you don’t.” He said snidely, tugging at your shirt. Whipping back to face him, your eyes were blazing with fury. 

“How I’m dressed is none of your business. And frankly, none of my boyfriend’s either.” You went to grab the drinks from the bar, but a large hand reached over you, trapping your smaller one between it and the glasses as your back hit a firm chest. 

“Ye quite done chatting up my missus?” The voice was recognisable anywhere, and you let out a soft breath of his name as you turned your head to look up at him. John’s eyes were blazing as they stared directly at the creep before him. 

“You’re her boyfriend?” His voice wavered slightly as he took in John’s appearance. Quickly realising that he was outmatched, he turned to you, sneering. “Of course, you’re a fucking gold-digging whore, fucking a man twice your age.” 

Before you could even respond, John surged forward, grabbing the front of the guy’s shirt and tugging him close. 

“Ye wanna call my missus a slag ye say it tae my fuckin face, ye cunt.” He spat. The commotion caught the attention of everyone around you, including the bartender.

“John.” You tapped his chest, trying to push him back. “Just leave it. He’s not worth it.” 

“Aye he fucking is.” John growled, eyes flashing with rage, lip curling as his fist clenched tighter at the man’s shirt. “D’ye wanna tell her what ye did tae her drink, or shall I?”

You froze, glancing at the three glasses that had been left on the bar before looking at the guy, whose eyes widened marginally. 

“Don’t know what you fucking mean.” He growled back. 

“Och, I think ye do, laddie. I watched ye dae it.”

“Fuck off.” 

“John, that’s enough! Please!” You cried out, sliding out from between the men and pulling him away as you saw a bouncer heading over. “You’re causing a scene. Just leave it.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes as he flicked between your desperately worried face and the guy’s angry one, before shoving him back and straightening up. 

“What’s going on?” The bouncer stood between John and the other man, looking back and forth between the pair of them. 

“He spiked her drink like a fuckin coward.” John seethed, finger pointing straight at the man’s face, taking a step forward. Grabbing quickly onto his jacket, you pulled him back as the bouncer grabbed the other man before telling John to get out as well. 

Without waiting, John gripped your arm and hauled you out of the club, not letting go until you were out on the street and clear of any loiterers.

“What the fuck, John?” You shoved him, pulling your arm out of his grip. He shot you a glare, baring his teeth. 

“Ye oughta be thankin’ me lassie.” His tone held an edge as he herded you down an alley. “Dae ye have any idea what that wanker woulda done tae ye?” 

“Where did you even come from? I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another week.”

“Well, it’s a bloody good thing I got back early, huh? I dinnae wanna fucking think about what coulda happened tae ye!” John’s hands were on your shoulders as he looked deep into your eyes. “Fuck’s sake, lassie, I cannae be here watching yer back all the time.” 

His eyes were wide and pleading as he cupped your cheek, stepping forward to press his forehead to yours. “Ye told me that ye were gonna be more careful.”

“I tried to get rid of him. Why are you blaming me for almost getting drugged?” You looked at him in exasperation, pushing at his chest. “Are you just planning on standing there and yelling at me?”

“Fuck, fuck, umnae blamin’ ye, darlin. I just, I couldnae… I thought…” The words died in his mouth as he lifted his head to look at you, fear evident in his eyes as he sighed heavily, jaw clenching. 

“I’m sorry, John.” You whispered, lip trembling as the reality of the situation hit you, of what could have happened if John hadn’t had your back. 

“Dinnae apologise, darling, please. It’s nae yer fault. Just thinking about that… fucker puttin’ his hands on ye.” He pulled back, clasping his hands behind his head as he paced in the alley, breathing deeply to rein in his temper.

Pulling out your phone, you messaged your friends to let them know where you were before you stepped towards John, taking his hands in yours. His jaw ticked, but his eyes softened as he turned his attention to you. As you gave him a tender smile, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as he slid his arms around you. 

“Thank you for looking out for me, John.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as you lightly scratched his scalp with your nails. He hummed happily, large hands sliding underneath the hem of your top, steering you until your back hit the wall.

“I cannae imagine losing ye, hen. Yer the only thing that keeps me going, that is worth coming back tae.” His breath was hot and ragged against your neck as he pressed wet, desperate kisses along the line of your neck. “Shoulda ripped his fucking throat out fer touchin ye. Fer hurtin’ ye. I’d’ve never forgiven myself if anything happened tae ye.” 

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, and for the first time, you wondered exactly how many men had been killed or maimed under John’s direction. He’d told you he wasn’t a good man, and you knew he was dangerous, but you couldn’t deny the rush that went through your body as he held you like this, soft and tender, whilst speaking about harming another person to keep you safe. 

“You need to be careful. You might end up on the wrong side of someone.” Like he always managed to do, John’s touch lit a fire in you, and you felt your body responding eagerly. His mouth spread into a wide grin, the stubble tickling the skin of your neck. 

“How many times dae I have tae say it, lass? Ye think eejits like that can hurt me? ‘Sides, yer worth the trouble of it. Worth. Every. Fucking. Moment.” He sucked on your neck with each word, nipping as he moved down, causing you to whine and tip your head back to give him more room. 

He groaned at the movement, hands sliding further up your torso as he pushed a thigh between your legs, pressing up against your core. Breath hitching, you gripped his shoulder for stability as he continued his exploration of your neck. Heat flooded through your body as he nipped and sucked his way up to the junction of your jaw, and you rolled your hips against his firm thigh. 

“Wait… John wait.” You managed to get out, letting out a strangled moan as he sucked on your neck and ground himself into you, allowing you to feel exactly how badly he wanted this. He growled in frustration, but pulled himself away from you. 

“I shouldnae dae it anyway. Ye’ve been drinkin—”

“I’m not drunk, I promise. I want you. God, I want you. I need you, John.” His eyes rolled back in his head at your words, hands squeezing your waist in a clear attempt to restrain himself. That only made your arousal spike, seeing his jaw flex with tension. 

“Ah dinnae wanna take ye here, hen. Not like this.” 

“Then just let me.” You whispered into his ear, pushing him back slightly so you could sink to your knees in front of him, hands already toying with his belt as he growled deep in his throat. 

“Fucking Christ darlin. Ye gonna kill me. Ye dinnae have tae—”

“I want to, John. Been thinking about this for months. Can’t believe you were this patient.” He let out a strained chuckle. 

“‘S not fer lack o’ trying, lass. Just hasnae been the right time.” He rested his forearm on the wall, glancing down at you with a strained expression. “Ye dinnae have tae.” 

“I want to.” You repeated in a low tone, tugging open his zipper and pulling down his underwear to expose his dick. Your eyes widened fractionally as you took him in. He was uncut, only half-hard but already mouthwateringly thick, with dark hair surrounding the base. 

“Too much fer ye?” Frowning, you looked up at John, who was staring down at you, a smirk plastered on his face. He reached down to cup your face tenderly before taking a firm grip in your hair. “But since ye down there, ye’ll be good fer me, aye?” 

“Yes, sir.” You grinned before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue, dragging it up the slowly stiffening length of his cock before taking him into your mouth and tonguing the underside. 

Groaning at his taste, you could feel his cock swelling in your mouth, and you pulled back, spitting on his cock and working your hand over the heavy length, helping him grow to his full size. Letting out a soft hiss, John’s fingers pressed into your scalp, but didn’t push you down.

“That's a good girl.” He praised breathlessly. Allowing saliva to pool on your tongue, you ran it along his shaft, getting him nice and wet as your hand continued to pump him. The gravel of the pavement was digging into your knees, but you didn’t care. Blocking out the pain, your lips curled around the head of his cock, pushing his foreskin back gently and sucking lightly. The feeling of him on your tongue made you moan, and John let out a reciprocal groan as he stared down at you, fingers tightening in your hair. 

Cocking your brow in amusement, you kept your eyes fixed on him as one hand wrapped around the base of his cock to hold him steady. You allowed him to watch as you opened your mouth, swirling your tongue eagerly around the head and bobbing slowly. 

“Fucking Christ hen, ye wanna stop teasing?” He panted, pulling you off and tipping your head up to look at him. “‘Cause I’m in a real mind tae fuck ye throat right now.”

Squeezing your thighs together, your breath hitched with his words, and you couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that broke out. John’s eyes lit up in the darkened alley, shining with delight as he stared down at you. 

“Ye like the sound o’ that lassie? Well now, put on a good show and I’ll gladly oblige.” Taking hold of his cock, he slapped it against your cheek, smearing his pre-cum on your skin, and then he fed his cock between your lips. Letting out a soft noise of surprise, you relaxed your mouth, allowing him to press himself in. Sealing your lips around him, you began a steady rhythm, bobbing down his shaft as your tongue laved along the underside, sliding over a vein that caused him to jerk. 

You chuckled, sending vibrations down his length, making him hiss in pleasure. Pulling most of the way off his cock, you locked eyes with him before swallowing his cock down to the base. Your nose was pressed against the dark hair at the base of his dick, and you could smell his distinct musk that made your own arousal spike. He tugged at your hair and let out a carnal groan, hips canting forwards to sink deeper. 

Relaxing your throat, you held him there for a bit, swallowing around him as you felt saliva pooling in your mouth, threatening to spill out. Pulling back, you took in a deep breath before sliding back down his length again, bobbing your head slightly so that the head of his cock repeatedly pushed down your throat, sending John into a spiral. 

“Fuck— oh fuck darling. Feels so fucking good around me. Takin me s’fucking well. Look at ye… swallowin’ mah cock down like a greedy fucking slag.”

Both of his hands now rested on the sides of your head, fingers tangled into your hair as he tipped his head back and moaned at the feeling of your mouth around him. Wetness pooled in your underwear at the sight of him losing his composure, and you couldn’t help but run your hands up the broad expanse of his thighs, taking in every inch of him. One hand settled to squeeze his ass as the other cupped his balls. They were large and heavy, swollen and full of spend that he was aching to shoot down your throat. 

“Aye that’s it. Hold my fucking balls fer me. Feel how badly I wanna fill ye up. God ye so fuckin good fer me. My slut. My good wee whore, aren’t ye?” 

He thrust his hips forward suddenly, causing you to gag and pull back, sucking in a breath as you looked up at him reproachfully. John just grinned wider at your disapproval, his voice coming out heady and rough. 

“Sorry darlin, got a wee bit excited. Ye feel so good wrapped around my cock. I’m almost there, lassie, c’mon. Keep suckin’ me.” There was no preamble this time as John immediately pressed his hard, thick cock back into your mouth, looking down at you as your lips spread wide around the base. Your mouth and throat were going to ache tomorrow, you knew it, but you also didn’t care and wanted to take everything he’d give you. 

He rocked his hips forward, the head of his cock pressing deep down your throat as you relaxed, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as a tear slid down your cheek; a mix of shortness of breath due to his eager thrusts and the biting, protesting pain from your aching knees. 

“Oh, fuck that’s it—that’s it, my wee fucking slag. Cry fer me, cry on my dick.” One of his hands cupped the back of your neck as the other roughly gripped your hair on the crown of your head, holding you in place as he ruts his hips forward into your mouth. You couldn’t do anything except let out a slightly garbled whine, which did nothing but make him moan throatily and toss his head back as your hands slid up to press against the front of his thighs.

“Shite, I'm gonna come. Fuck me, I’m gonna come.” John’s voice was strained as he spoke, hips moving forward in an inconsistent rhythm before he pulled out. Using the hand on top of your head, he tilted your head up to look at him, forcing your mouth open as his other hand worked over his cock. His eyes were glued on your face, messy and debauched, and the mere sight of it sent him over the edge.  

His body drew rigid, and he let out a strained gasp before shoving the throbbing head of his cock into your mouth, flooding it with his hot release. 

“Take it.” He urged, eyes dark and fixed onto your face. “Take it, take it all for me, my good wee whore. That's it.” You let out a soft moan, working him through the release by sucking on the tip of his cock. Finally, John pulled back, and you released his cock, watching it flop; flaccid and spent between his legs.

Panting heavily, John reached down with a hand, swiping his thumb tenderly through the mess of saliva and cum on your chin before he pressed the digit into your mouth. Without even being asked, you sucked it clean, and then pressed a kiss to the junction of his groin and thigh as you rose to your feet grinning. 

“Fuck, darling. Yer somethin else.” He returned the wide smile, hand coming up to close lightly over your throat as his mouth descended on yours roughly. His tongue pressed into your mouth, intently sweeping along yours to taste himself mixed with you. He groaned, pulling away as he tucked himself back into his pants, zipping himself up and motioning to the end of the alley. 

“C’mon, hen. I’ll take ye home. That way, I can fuck ye somewhere nice.” You were not one to disagree.

•••

Later that night, you were lying on your bed, curled into John’s side with your head on his soft, fuzzy chest as his arm was thrown around your shoulders. The pair of you were hot, panting and sweaty, but you wanted to be close to him, and John was happy to indulge you. 

With a leg thrown over him and your head resting on his chest, you allowed your fingers the freedom of roaming over his chest, tracing the lines of his scars. 

“Do you remember what they’re all from?” You asked, running over a fairly new scar that was raised on the upper part of his abdomen. 

“Most of them.” He mumbled sleepily, eyes closed as he rested his head against your pillow. “That one yer touching was caused by a knife.” 

“You were stabbed?” Lifting your head, your brows furrowed in concern as you looked up at his face. The corners of his lips twitched upwards. 

“Dinnae fash, darling. I’m fine now.” Squinting his eyes open, he placed a hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you back down to rest on his chest. You obliged, letting yourself be settled by the rhythmic beating of his heart. 

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” His hand squeezed your shoulder before moving to trace down the length of your bare back. 

“Aye.” Was his simple reply as he looked down at you. “And I cannae say anything about it.”

“Can you just let me worry about you?” You grit out, pushing yourself up to look down at him, frowning as you met his gaze. “When you’re gone for long stints, I can’t help but think about what you’re going through.”

John let out a long sigh, as he kept his eyes fixed on yours, unwavering and steady. “I’m not doing it tae hurt ye, lassie. ‘Sides, I’d rather ye not hear what I’ve been through. It’s ugly stuff.”

“That makes me worry more.” His lips spread in a toothy grin at your remark, and he runs a hand lightly up your side. 

“Yer sweet, hen. I like that about ye.” His tone was casual, but his eyes and jaw were both set firmly enough for you to realise that he was once again trying to put an end to the conversation. But you weren’t giving up. 

“Will you tell me why you were back early?” 

“Ain’t much tae say. We got the job done. I’m back.” He said tersely, pushing your hand aside so he could sit up on the edge of the bed. You felt an ache in your heart at the gesture, realising you may have pushed him too far. 

“I’m sorry. John, I’m sorry.” Quickly moving, you sat next to him, hands on his shoulder and chest. “I just— it hurts when you’re gone, and I have no clue what’s happening to you, and then you just show up like you did tonight… I’m still getting used to this. To you.” 

Your breathing was rapid as you stared at his face, eyes glancing over his tense features. He intentionally wasn’t looking at you, lips pursed and eyes slightly narrowed as he was lost in thought. The pair of you stayed like that for a good few minutes, and every second more only made your heart beat faster as your skin prickled unsettlingly. 

Finally, he blinked, turning his head towards you and placing one of his large hands over your thigh. “I ken it’s not easy being with a soldier. We go through a lot, some more so than others. We often have a temper, dinnae like when things are out of our control.” 

Nodding along, you sat there patiently, letting him talk his mind. His hand squeezed your thigh in appreciation, head nodding as he continued. 

“I dinnae like tae think about what could happen. Cannae afford tae. My life is on the line every time I leave, and I cannae change that fact.” He cupped your face tenderly, tracing a thumb over your cheek as a sense of longing lingered in his eyes. “I want tae tell ye things, but I willnae put ye in that position.” 

“So what do we do?” Lifting up your hand, you wrapped it around his forearm as he leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. 

“Ye have tae accept there are things about me I cannae tell ye. It’s just fer the best, lassie. I’ll try and tell ye what I can. Ye can still ask questions, but ye cannae get mad at me fer not being able to tell ye things.”

“Okay, John.” You whispered, feeling his breath fan across your cheek. He pressed a tender kiss to your cheek before pulling back. 

“I’m sorry it has tae be this way. And I ken it’s selfish fer me tae want so much from ye and fer ye tae get sweet fuck all in return.” A grin tugged onto his face at his words and you felt yourself smiling in response. “But I’m a selfish man, lassie. And I cannae let ye go, not when ye’ve dug yer way into my life.” 

Still smiling, he pushed you back until you were lying down, staring up at him as he stroked the hair from your eyes. Fondness and desire were both evident in his eyes as he lifted himself up onto his knees, rearranging your body so he was nestled between your legs once more. 

“Am I yours, John?” You asked, needing some kind of clarification on where you stood in the relationship, if it was right to say you were spoken for. 

“My god, sweetheart, I’d kill a man tae keep ye safe and unharmed. Of course yer mine.” He growled, an edge to his tone as he leaned back down. Tilting your head back, he attached his mouth to your neck, sucking red, claiming marks over the column of your throat. “I fucking wish I could shout it from the rooftops. Wish I could tell the whole world yer mine.”

As his teeth dragged along the sensitive skin, you gasped, arching your back and locking your legs around his waist. You wrapped your arms around him, fingers threading through the strands of his mohawk. 

“I’m yours, John.” You whined, tugging at his hair and making him grunt in satisfaction. 

“Say it again.” He demanded in your ear. 

“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’ll only ever be yours.” 

Groaning, he pushed himself up to reach for his wallet, grabbing out another condom and rolling it on. Settling back down between your legs, he dragged his hardened cock down the length of your slit before pressing inside; using your previous release and the lube on the condom to help ease the slide as he sunk down to the hilt. 

“Say it. Say that yer mine as I fuck ye.” He pleaded, burying his face into your neck as he set a sloppy pace. His hands grabbed at your body, pulling you into him as though being pressed against each other and being inside you wasn’t close enough. 

“I’m yours, John.” You mewled. His cock was so thick that despite already being taken earlier, you still felt the burn of being stretched out by him. Clenching yourself around him, you dragged your nails down his back, desperate to mark him as he marked your neck. 

John let out a desperate grunt, thrusts already becoming sloppy as the heat of the moment got to him. 

“Aye, yer mine— all fucking mine. Mine tae have, mine tae fuck.” His voice broke slightly as he moaned, teeth closing on your shoulder as he tried to silence himself. He dragged his wet tongue over your skin, tasting you as you bucked your hips up to meet his. 

“John— oh fuck, John. Please, come inside me. Mark me as yours. Need it. I need to be yours.” The bite of his fingernails on your skin was vicious as he held your hips in place, allowing him to punch his hips forwards until he slammed into you one final time, cock pulsing as you squeezed around him. His arms held you close as he ruts into you, emptying the last of his thick seed deep inside the condom with a muffled moan against your shoulder. 

The weight of him was almost suffocating, and you pressed your hands into his shoulders, whining as you still hadn’t found your release. John chuckled, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder and admiring his handiwork briefly before lifting himself off and sliding down your body. His thick fingers were already toying with your slick cunt as he kissed down your body. 

“John…”

“I ken ye want it, darling. Dinnae fash, I’ll give it tae ye, because yer mine, aren’t ye? Say it fer me.” You nodded blissfully, eyes fluttering with the way his fingers curled inside you as you felt the heat of his mouth against your inner thigh. 

“Yes. I’m yours, John. Only yours.” 

“That’s right. My good wee whore.” He cooed before lowering his mouth to your glistening cunt.

•••

-> Are you free tonight? Need to see you before I leave tomorrow

You had to pause and sit on your couch to stare at your phone when the text first came through. John rarely initiated a conversation through text, much preferring to call you or for you to message first and let him know if you were working, out, or at home for the night. Receiving that text from him made your heart lurch in your chest and you found yourself jumping to respond immediately. 

<- I’ll be home all night. What time are you coming? x

-> Late. Still prepping and will leave early tomorrow

<- That’s alright. I’ll wait up for you. Can’t wait x

Glancing at the clock, you noted it was just on five in the evening which meant you probably wouldn’t expect him for several hours, much to your dismay. However, given the mess that was currently in your flat, maybe the extra time wasn’t a bad thing. 

As you were cleaning, you were struck with just how much John had inserted himself into your life in such a short period of time. Though he was often away for weeks or even months at a time, you still kept a drawer for him in your closet and a shelf for him in the bathroom at all times. Just seeing his toothbrush next to yours every morning put a smile on your face. 

You hadn’t put a label on the relationship you had with him yet, not that you minded. Whenever talks turned to more serious topics, John tended to shut the conversation down and close off. You couldn’t blame him though, being a soldier and all, you thought, maybe he’d been through some difficult relationships, and didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t commit to. 

It was nearing eleven, and you were snuggling on the couch in one of John’s shirts when you finally heard his key in the lock. You’d never technically given him a key, he just took your spare one with him one day when he was back and you’d never had a second thought about it. Pushing the door open, he stepped in with a weary look on his face, but he still gave you a smile. 

“Sorry I’m late, darling. Got held up. Glad to be home wit ye.” Leaning over the couch, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, dropping his bags and heading towards the kitchen. Your heart preened at his acknowledgement of home and you pushed yourself off the couch to follow him. 

“There is food in the fridge if you’re hungry.” You tell him as you walked in. “And I grabbed another six pack for you. The ones you like.” The last sentence you added a little more shyly. He paused while filling up a glass of water, turning to look at you with mild surprise. 

“Ye didnae have tae do that fer me.” He set down the glass on the bench after draining it and held out his arms. “C’mere, lassie. I’ve missed ye.”

It was easy, falling into his arms and letting them wrap protectively around you. Burying your face into his firm chest, you inhaled deeply, allowing his comforting scent to surround you as his lips pressed against the top of your head. 

“How long are you going to be gone for this time?” Despite trying to hide the pain in your voice, John’s arms squeezed you tighter. 

“I’m nae sure, darlin’. It’s why I wanted tae stop by. Spend some time with my girl.” His girl. Shivers ran down your spine as you glanced up at him with a soft smile before standing on your tiptoes to press your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck. He hummed, smiling into the kiss as his hands clutched at your waist, holding you close to him. 

The kiss was languid, mouths slowly moving against each other as you tilted your head to the side, a comforting warmth spreading through your chest. His lips were cold, as if he’d been outside for a long period of time, and you could taste the remnants of tobacco, something you had been becoming rather familiar with. You honestly felt like you could stay like this for hours, in his arms, mouth on yours, your hands in his hair. It felt like a dream, and one you didn’t want to wake up from. 

Nibbling on your bottom lip, he sucked it into his mouth, pressing his tongue alongside yours as he cupped the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and holding you steady. Somehow, he always knew just how to make your knees weak and you couldn’t help but moan softly. Chuckling, he broke the kiss, pulling back slightly so he could take in how glassy your eyes were from a few touches. 

“I’m gonna miss ye, doll. So fucking much.” 

“Don’t say that, you’ll make me cry.” You said, brushing your nose up against his. His head cocked to the side and he smirked before leaning forward. 

“The only cryin’ I wanna see ye do tonight is on my cock.” He purred, tracing his tongue over your earlobe and causing your breath to hitch before your brows furrowed, slapping his shoulder and causing him to laugh. 

“You’re so vulgar, John.” You scowled playfully, pulling back.

“Dinnae act like ye want me tae stop.” John grinned, quickly spinning you around so your back was against the bench. “Yer easy tae read, bonnie wee lass. I see that look in yer eye when I talk pure filth. Gets ye all riled, aye?”

His voice lowers, making your skin prickle as he leaned over you. The cool stone of your bench top was pressing against your body, essentially trapping you, but you really didn’t want to be anywhere else. Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you grinned at him, eyes dancing over his face. 

“I bet if I just reached between yer legs…” You inhale a shaky breath as John slides his hand between your legs and prods your wet heat with intent. “Aye, just as I thought. Already slick fer me like the good girl I ken ye are.”

You almost hated how easily he could get under your skin, how well he could read you, but you really couldn’t complain about it.  Especially considering how well looked after he made you feel before, during, and after sex. Biting out a smart retort was also out of the question, since the gentle circles he was tracing on your clit rendered you speechless. 

“Fuck doll, look at ye. So breathless already and we havenae even started.” He cooed, grinning almost sadistically as his eyes hungrily roamed your body, before stopping.  Withdrawing his fingers, he tugged at the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “Is this my shirt?” 

“Yeah, wanted to smell you.” You answered him, finally finding your voice. “Had to make do since you were so late coming home.” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, hand moving to slide underneath the hem of the shirt. 

“I like ye in my clothes. Should wear them more often.” 

“Bring more over and I will.” 

“Cheeky.” He admonished, flashing you a toothy grin as he tapped your nose. “And demanding.”

Drawing your lip between your teeth once more, you found your expression mirroring his. It was easy, falling into this sense of domesticity with him. Pushing on the bench behind you, you lifted yourself up so you were sitting on the cold stone, John standing between your knees. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he looked down at you, tilting his head marginally. All at once, you could feel heat building in your face and you ducked your head to break eye contact. 

“What are you looking at?” The words were mumbled into your shoulder as you glanced away from him. 

“You.” His voice was soft as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze once more. “I’m always thinkin’ about you, lassie.” Grumbling playfully and curling your lip, you nudged his hand away. In retaliation, he placed his warm palm on your cheek, holding you tenderly as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Good thoughts I hope?” John simply chuckled as he pulled back, eyes glinting as his lips stretched into a smirk. 

“Doll, sometimes I dinnae think ye even ken what ye do tae me.”

“Is that really such a problem?” Lifting your head, you stared up at him with a teasing smile. Snorting in amusement, John shook his head at you, thumb tracing against your cheekbone. 

“Aye, it is. Yer a succubus. Sent by the devil himself tae test mah faith.” Now it was your turn to laugh at him. 

“I never took you for a religious man, John.” He shrugged. 

“More in the name than anything. But me Mam would skin me alive if I said otherwise.” The mention of his mother made your ears prick. He’d never once mentioned his family, or his background directly, but every time he saw you, he let a little more information about himself slip. It made your heart thump a little faster, happy about the small bits of information you were slowly teasing out of him the longer you brushed at his thick outer coat.

His lips reconnected with yours, the rough, calloused skin of his palm pressing against the back of your neck to hold you steady. Teeth tugged at your bottom lip, sucking lightly into his mouth as he growled deep in his throat before pulling back. 

“Bedroom.” His voice was husky and thick, hands tugging at the shirt you were wearing. Feeling your own desire rising, you followed without complaint. Reconnecting your lips to his, the pair of you felt your way through the flat as he steered you towards your bedroom, hands and mouth never leaving your body. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

The oversized shirt was wrenched over your head and cast aside, leaving you in your underwear as he kneeled above you, eyes raking hungrily over your exposed body. His hands slid underneath your thighs, encouraging them to wrap around his waist as he placed himself between your spread legs. Burying his face into your neck, he breathed deeply, mouth latching onto the tender skin near your collarbone. 

“Yer fuckin’ perfect, doll. Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. I cannae believe yer mine.” Reaching between your bodies, he pulled aside your underwear, fingers delving between your folds to collect your wetness. Swearing under his breath, John returned his mouth to your neck, sucking on the soft skin, digits continuing to tease between your legs. 

Lifting up a hand, you carded your own fingers through his hair, tugging at the longer strands of his mohawk as you whined softly. 

“John… please.” The man grinned into the crook of your neck, pulling away only to slide your underwear off and roll you onto your side, slotting himself in behind you. 

“Be a good girl fer me, got it?” He cooed, dragging his teeth over the curve of your ear. “Just lemme touch that bonnie cunt o’ yers.”

Hooking one of your legs over his arms, he used his strength to keep your legs spread apart for him as he toyed with your slick cunt. His fingers collected your wetness before alternating between rubbing your clit and crooking his fingers inside you expertly. It hadn’t taken him long to discover exactly how to touch you to make you writhe and moan for him. 

“Tell me who this pussy belongs tae.” His skin was hot against your own, warm breath fanning over your neck as he growled, deep and low. 

“Me.” You protested, head lolling as he turned his head. 

“Och, I dinnae think so, lassie.” He said, deploying several sharp spanks to your cunt. Every impact made you clench and whine, trying desperately to wriggle out of his strong grip, but he tittered. “No no, none of that, bonnie lass. Tell me again. Who does this wee cunt belong tae?” 

“You— fuck! You, John!” Your mouth parted with a loud cry as he hummed his approval, plunging his fingers back into you as he reached around with his other hand to stimulate your clit. 

“That’s it, that’s a good girl.” Crooning into your ear, he didn’t relent, causing you to barrel towards your release. With your back plastered to his chest and your legs thrown over his strong arms, you know it was useless to try and wriggle away, but his overwhelming assault on your cunt brought tears of pleasure to your eyes and you whined pathetically. 

“John— please! It’s too much.” His response was simply to chuckle darkly in your ear and continue the dexterous movements of his fingers. 

“No it’s not. Ye can take it, doll. Ye said ye were gonna be good fer me.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a cry of his name as your walls fluttered and pulsed around him. You felt yourself gush over his fingers with a cry of his name and he whispered soft praises, kissing over your shoulder and neck. 

Coming back down from your high, you rested your weight against him, panting heavily as his hands ran soothingly up your sides. Then, rolling you onto your back, he pulled a couple of pillows underneath your hips, lifting you up slightly. 

“Such a fucking sight.” He groaned, running his hands up your body momentarily before shucking off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants, tugging them off. Grabbing his wallet, he opened it before his brows pinched together and he cursed. 

“What is it?” Pushing yourself up, you looked down at him as he rummaged through the pockets on his pants. 

“Ah dinnae ken where I put the fuckin’ johnnie, hen.” He grumbled, looking up at you with a sorrowful expression. 

“I have condoms in my drawer if it’s an issue?” Gesturing to your bedside table, you made a move to open it, but a firm hand stopped you. 

“I have a latex allergy, hen. I cannae just use any old one.” His thumb caressed your wrist tenderly. “I’m sorry.” 

Furrowing your brows, you purse your lips, having an internal debate for a few moments before you reach out, placing your free hand on his arm. 

“I trust you.” 

The three simple words made him lift his head, and he cursed under his breath. Surging upwards, he pushed you back down onto the bed, nestling between your legs. 

“Ye sure, doll? I can fuck ye raw?” The tone of his voice was relatively neutral, but the grip of his hands on your hips conveyed his excitement. 

“Please.” You couldn't stop yourself from whining the words out as you rolled your hips up, brushing your clit against his aching cock. Hissing, he rested his forehead against yours, gently brushing your hair back from your face.

“I’ll pull out.” He breathed, hands clutching tighter as the bare head of his cock brushed against your wet core. Shaking your head, you cupped his cheeks to stare into his eyes. 

“It’s okay, I promise. Just… please John. I need it— need you to fuck me.” 

“Steaming Jesus, hen.” He growled, hooking your legs around his waist, he leaned down to match his mouth onto one of your nipples, tugging at it with his teeth. Moaning and arching your back, you threaded your hands into his hair, holding him to your chest. The head of his cock bumped against your clit as he rolled his hips, the air thick with lust.

Pushing himself up, he stared down between your legs as he held the base of his dick and ran it up and down the length of your slit, collecting your wetness to ease his entrance inside you. John’s grip on your hip tightened, choking out a grunt as he once more buried his head into the crook of your neck. The stubble tickling your sensitive skin as he let out a strangled gasp, sinking down to the hilt. His teeth latched onto your shoulder and he began to rut his hips into yours. 

The pace he set was rapid, sweat already dripping from his brow from the effort of restraint. His hands never remained still, caressing down your legs and brushing up your back, relishing in mapping every inch of your body. Moving, he shifted to rest his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, hands carding through your sweaty hair before he pushed himself up.

Cold metal brushed against your cheek and you turned, seeing his dog tags dangling above your face. He never usually wore them with you, always taking them off and tucking them into his bag. Your fingers laced around the chain, lightly holding onto it as his hips continued to buck into yours. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes were dark, blown wide with lust as he panted above you, sweat beading on his brow. 

“Ride me.” He croaked, gripping your hips and rolling the pair of you over until you were straddling his waist. Pulling his dog tags over his head, he hooked them around your neck, watching with hungry eyes as the metal bounced between your breasts with every thrust. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s my good girl.” 

Leaning forward, your hands splayed across his hairy chest, anchoring yourself as you began to ride his cock, slamming your hips down in order to chase your second release of the night. Grunting out a curse, John gripped your hips tightly, bucking up into you and slapping his hand across the cheek of your ass. The smell of sex permeated the room, clouding your senses, until you couldn’t think about anything else other than the man on the bed below you, and how good his cock filled you. 

Your thighs were protesting, burning from the effort of riding him, but you couldn’t stop, not when you were teetering on the edge of release, your clit grinding deliciously against the coarse hair above his dick. The slick sound of his cock entering you and the grunts of pleasure he was letting out were all that mattered, and you felt yourself spiralling. 

“Close… I’m so fucking close.” Digging your fingers into the meat of his chest, your breathing quickened as you felt the familiar heat coiling in your gut. 

“Umnae gonna last.” John’s voice was deep, making your pussy clench at the idea of his impending release, knowing you were finally going to feel everything. His hands gripped you tightly, bouncing you on his lap as you rocked your hips desperately downwards to meet his thrusts. 

“Please…” You begged him, struggling to maintain the rhythm of your grinding as you edged closer. “I need it, I need to feel you.” 

“Shite, I’m gonna fill ye. Fucking Christ, yer gonna drain me.” Panting, John reached up to grip the chain of his dog tags around your neck and pulled you down so he could smash his lips against yours. 

The kiss was messy, full of spit and teeth as both of your climaxes loomed over you. His hands clutched your ass, nails digging into your skin as his breathing turned ragged as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. 

“Fucking hell— I need tae come, please. Lemme come in ye, hen. Please— oh fuck— keep doing that. God ye feel incredible.” Moaning into your skin, he dragged his tongue up the column of your neck, tasting the salt on your skin. 

“Do it— fuck please do it.” The twitch of his cock inside you made you cry out, clenching tightly around him as you felt your orgasm rip through you. 

“Fuck… holy fuck I can feel ye— shite yer gripping me so fucking tight. Jesus doll, umnae… I cannae…” He trailed off, mouth latching onto your breast as thrust up into a couple more times before pinning his cock deep inside you as he groaned gutturally. Thick, hot cum released inside of you, his cock pulsing with every spurt as he moaned into your chest. His hands ran up your back, holding you to him as you both sagged into the bed, panting heavily. 

Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you keeled forward, head landing on the pillow next to John. The man chuckled, his touch feather light on your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. You were unsure how long you remained like that, pressed together and still intimately connected, but you knew it wasn’t something you were ready to lose just yet. 

John recovered first, gently rolling you off him so he could slide out and press a tender kiss to your forehead before standing up. When you let out a whining noise of protest and gripped his arm tightly, he stroked your head reassuringly. 

“Just getting a washcloth, sweetheart.” And you relented, allowing him to leave and come back, a warm cloth gently cleaning the mess he’d made of you. Humming softly, you blinked your heavy eyes open and stretched lazily. 

“I hope you’re not planning to do anything other than sleep right now.” He chuckled, walking once more to the bathroom to wash the cloth before sliding into the bed next to you. Curling into his side, you felt the brush of something hard on your chest, and you realised you were still wearing his dog tags. 

Glancing at him in silent question, he nodded once, hand running reassuringly along your back as you reached down to read the engraved text. 

O POS

2073521

JOHN

MacTAVISH

ARMY

RC

“John MacTavish.” Rolling the name over and over again in your head, you let it sink in. Finally, you knew his full name.

“Aye, that’s me, lassie.” He smirked, leaning back against your pillows. “Now yer getting to ken all mah secrets.” 

Laughing softly, you shake your head and curl into his side, allowing him to wrap his muscled arm around your body. Resting against him was warm and comforting, and you could imagine staying like this for the rest of your life. 

“I’d hardly call your full name a secret.” You mused. “Especially not when you’ve known mine from the beginning.” 

“That’s different.” He reasons, shrugging lightly. 

“Also, I have a bone to pick with you.” Jerking your head up, you narrowed your eyes down at him. Frowning in concern, John looked at you, waiting for you to elaborate. “You remember when I was guessing your last name and I kept saying names beginning with ‘Mac’ and you gave me shit for it?” 

A broad grin spread over his handsome features, one of the most genuine smiles you’d seen on his face and it warmed your heart to see. 

“Aye, lassie. I was just having ye on. Yer a smart one. Couldnae fool ye even if I wanted tae.” Playfully, you bat against his chest and he laughs. Unable to resist the jovial sound, you joined in, a wide smile spreading over your face as you looked at him. You admired every little feature of his face, from the stubble on his chin, to the bright blue of his eyes, to the splash of freckles over his cheeks, to the scar that crossed over his left eye. 

“Thank you for trusting me.” The words were barely audible due to his laughter, but he settled down and cupped your face gently. 

“Anything fer my girl.”

Despite waking up fairly early the next morning, the other side of your bed was cold and empty. Reaching a hand around your neck, you found the dog tags were gone and you felt immediately alone. This was stupid, you thought, he said that he needed to leave early. You knew this was coming. But it still hurt nonetheless every time he left. 

Going about your normal morning routine, you made your way into the kitchen where a neatly folded note lay on the bench, addressed to you. Smiling to yourself, you opened the letter and began to read. 

— Sorry for leaving so soon, but we had to make an early start. Took the six pack with me, the lads are gonna love you for it. If you need to buy a pill, there’s some money attached. If not, buy yourself something nice, on me. 

Take care of yourself and I’ll see you when I’m back. —

Taking the page up to your nose, you inhaled his strong scent and sighed heavily. It was a common theme for him to up and leave suddenly and the pain of it never went away, but he always came back and you could feel that your heart was already aching for the reunion. 

•••

You were in your kitchen unpacking the dishwasher one night when you heard your front door open and slam shut. 

“John?” There was no response to your call, but the loud stomping of boots on your floor let you know that it was him as you finished off your task, closing the dishwasher. Frowning, you went to turn around to walk towards the door but your heart leapt out of your chest as you walked straight into a solid form. “Jesus Christ, John. You could have warned me you were right behind me!” 

Placing a hand over your heart with a light chuckle, you tried to brush off the fright with laughter, but one glance up at him wiped the smile clean off your face. His eyes were dark, almost black as he stared down at you coldly, jaw twitching as his hands clenched. 

“John?” Your voice shook now, and you felt your heart racing as he loomed over you. Despite all the times you’d seen him be physical with someone else, he’d never done so much as raise a hand towards you or made you feel unsafe, yet the way he was staring down at you now made you tremble with fear. “John, what’s wrong—”

“Shut up.” He snarled, lip curling as he reached out to close a large hand on your jaw, using it as leverage to push you back until your hips met the cold stone of your bench top. “Just fucking shut up.” 

The tone of his voice made your breath hitch and eyes widen, teeth chattering as your whole body felt like it was on a knife’s edge. You did as you were told, keeping your mouth shut as you stared up at him, glancing between his eyes, hoping to see some kind of remorse. But they were cold and empty, exactly like he’d been towards the men that had threatened your safety. 

Immediately, thoughts raced through your head, trying to recall everything you’d said and done over the last few days, wondering if something had set him off. Panic began to set in as he pressed you further back against the bench, and your hands scrambled to find purchase. 

“You’re scaring me.” His nose twitches at your words, but his grip didn’t relent. 

“I warned ye that I’m nae a good man, lassie, and ye didnae listen.” He sneered, stepping closer to press his body against yours, caging you in. “And so I’m gonna fuck ye, and yer gonna take it like a good wee whore.”

The grip on your jaw tightened as he made sure your eyes remained fixed to his. Swallowing thickly, your mouth parted as you stared up at him, confusion spread over your face. 

“John, I don’t think we—”

“Yer gonna shut that fucking mouth and take my cock, or I’m gonna find someone else who will.” You snapped your mouth shut at his words, an ugly feeling of jealousy clawing underneath your skin at the thought of someone else having him. Biting the inside of your cheek, you just managed to keep the tears that threatened to spill at bay. 

The complete shift in his usual persona set you on edge, and you had no idea what could set him off or make things worse for you. And so, against your better judgement, you nodded in submission. His lips curled into a sadistic grin, hand moving from your jaw to thread into your hair, gripping it roughly. 

“Get on yer fuckin’ knees.” He growled, practically tugging you down by your hair towards the ground before your body could even begin to process his command. The feeling of your knees hitting the ground made you hiss in pain, but you quickly buried the response as he tilted your head up and shoved your face into the seat of his pants. 

His jeans smelled of dirt, sweat, and ash, making your nose crinkle in distaste, but not wanting to complain and set him off even more, you kept it to yourself. Groaning above you, John’s breathing was heavy as he ground his clothed cock against your cheek. The rough material of his pants was painful against the skin of your face and you whimpered softly as his fingers pulled harder at your hair. 

“Get my dick out.” The command was sharp and left no room for complaint. Wanting to make quick work of the situation, you tugged his pants open, finding he had no underwear on, and his cock was already more than half hard. The idea of him being hard and getting off to this made your stomach twist unkindly, bile rising in your throat. 

Ignoring the burning sensation, you dropped open your jaw and went to take him into your mouth when his firm grip in your hair stopped you. 

“Did I fuckin’ say ye could?” His tone was harsh and cruel, laced with a mocking lilt. “Greedy fuckin’ slag. Only good fer takin’ cock, ain’t ye? Go on then. Open up and make this worth my time.” 

Taking hold of his ruddy cock, he slapped your cheek with it, pushing it into your face as he continued to press his hips forward. When you didn’t take it straight away, he tapped two fingers to your chin and you immediately dropped your jaw open, allowing him to bury his cock to the hilt. The feral moan he let out as his head tipped back made your cunt clench shamefully. 

The bulbous head of his cock breached your throat easily, making you gag violently and move to pull off, but he held you down, growling at you. Suddenly, a hand slapped across your cheek, causing you to let out a muffled cry at the sting. 

“Ye’ll take what I fucking give ye, understand? Dinnae even think about disobeying me.” His tone was already ragged, signalling he was on edge. A small mercy, really, because it meant this would hopefully be over soon and you could get John back. Or at least, who you thought John was. 

He swore under his breath as he began to buck his hips forward, holding your head steady as he thrust in and out of your mouth. Relaxing your throat as much as you could, you dug your fingernails into your thighs, the sharp bite providing a slight distraction from the painful stretch of your jaw. His heavy balls slapped against your chin with every movement of his hips and he groaned out noises of pleasure as you continued to swallow him down obediently. 

Tears streamed down your face as you squeezed your eyes shut, the thrusts continuing. You tried to regulate your breathing as much as possible whenever he pulled back, focusing on not passing out as he fucked your throat brutally. 

“Open yer eyes!” Another slap landed on your cheek and you choked out a sob, blinking your teary eyes open to stare at his cruel face, leering down at you. You couldn’t even properly focus on him, the vision swimming before your eyes. “That’s it, show me how messy ye are. How messy this cock makes ye.”

To contrast with the brutal thrusts, he released one hand from your hair, cupping your cheek as he wiped a tear away with his thumb. He pulled out fully, making you lurch forward, coughing as you heaved deep gulps of air back into your empty lungs. Wiping your lips dry of spit, you looked up at him, hoping to see a shift in his expression, but there wasn’t. 

“Up.” His voice was still cold and your heart gave a painful thump, missing the usual warmth and care that came with his touch. You obeyed his command instantly. “Strip and bend over the sofa.” The tone left no room for protests, but to emphasise his point, he spanked your ass, making you jump into action. Rushing around him, you pulled off your clothes, hearing him move close behind you. 

You’d barely managed to tug off your underwear and bend over the arm of the couch when his hands were back on you. They were demanding, touching and squeezing and prodding at every inch of your body as if he had the right to every part of you. Burying your head into the plush cushioning, you whimpered out a cry as he shoved several fingers into you. He tittered, clicking his tongue in annoyance at what he felt. 

“Ye nae properly wet? Tha’s nae my issue. Shoulda used that dumb head o’ yers to realise I was gonna fuck ye next.” His words caused your eyes to widen. Breath hitching, you whipped around, shaking your head pleadingly as you reached for him. 

“John, please— just talk to me, we can—”

“Shut. Up. If I wanted to talk, I’d be talking, not fuckin’ ye. If ye cannae take it, smack me three times for fucks sake.” He said scathingly, pushing your head back down into the cushions. “Dumb fuckin’ bitch fer making it harder than it needs tae be.” 

He was giving you an out, you realised, head finally processing the words. All you had to do was hit him and he’d stop. Raising your fist up, it hovered in the air next to your body. The grip on you was still firm, but he paused all his movements, waiting for your response. The fist you made shook as you squeezed tightly, nails digging into your palm. Yes, he’d stop, but he also said he’d leave and fuck someone else earlier if you refused. Hating yourself and the cruel words he was spitting out, you lowered your hand back down, instead clutching at the fabric of the couch to distract yourself. 

John’s hands pulled your hips back to rest flush against his as he ground himself forward with a sadistic chuckle. 

“Knew ye wanted it, whore. Now shut ye gob and take my dick like ye were made tae.” Leaning over you, he spat directly onto your cunt, filling you with his thick fingers and crooking them just how you liked it, making your body react, jerking and clenching around his fingers as you moaned into the couch.

When he decided you’d been prepped enough, a hand tangled into your hair and shoved your face into the couch. His cock pressed into you, a burning stretch accompanying the slow slide. Your eyes snapped open and you breathed, trying to relax yourself as he buried himself into you, groaning against the skin of your back. 

“There we go. Was that really worth all that struggle?” The words were mocking as he began to thrust, immediately moaning when he felt you clench around him. “Good fuckin’ bitch. Being such a good cock sleeve fer me, lettin’ me use yer holes like this. Maybe I should fuck that arse too.”

Teeth nipped between your shoulder blades as he began to angle his hips, pressing a hand into the middle of your back to arch it further. Groaning in satisfaction, he began to slam his hips into yours, rocking pleasurably against that spot inside you he knew too well. Mostly against your will, your body began to react and you could feel yourself getting wet, making the slide of his cock easier. 

“That’s it. There we go. Yer getting wet now, ain’t ye? Just needed a fat cock in ye tae remind ye of yer place.” John let out a gruff chuckle, rolling his hips to catch against your walls, making you jerk and squeeze around him. His calloused fingers reached between your legs, playing with your clit as he continued to fuck into you from behind. You hated the fact he knew your body better than you did, you hated the fact he could play you like a fiddle, you hated the fact he knew exactly how to touch you to make you moan, and yet, you loved how he made you feel. 

Already, you were rocking your hips back against his, the familiar curling in your gut making its presence known. Moaning raggedly into the sofa, you felt tears dripping down your face, a mix of fear at what was happening and how John was acting, but also out of shameful pleasure that he was so easily wringing out of you. John grunted, babbling words that made no sense to your dizzy head as his thrusts grew harder and more erratic, making your toes curl with pleasure. 

“Fucking Christ yer tight. Thought ye’d surely be loose by now wit how many times I’ve fucked ye. Just a good wee whore fer me, aye?” His teeth sunk into the skin of your shoulder as one of his strong arms pulled you flush against his chest, the other still toying with your clit. “Feels so fucking good around me, god I miss this cunt when I’m gone. My fist doesnae even dae it justice. Always dream of fucking it when I get back.” 

Unable to stop yourself, the tension that had been building inside of you snapped with his words and you cried out, a sobbing moan signalling your release. John swore viciously, pressing you back down into the sofa as his pace picked up, chasing his own release now. Your brain was barely functioning and you couldn’t process anything around you, just laid there pressed into the cushions of your couch as your sort-of-boyfriend railed his cock into you until he moaned his release loudly. 

His body trembled, shaking violently as his cock twitched inside you, filling you with his seed. Nails dug into your hips as he held you close, not letting you escape for several minutes as he continued to climax. When he’d finally finished, he pulled out of you with a groan, fingers immediately scooping his cum and pressing it back inside you as he cooed softly, kissing up your spine.  

Now that the heat of the moment had passed, you squirmed away from him, feeling disgusted with yourself. Pushing yourself up on shaky legs, you stumbled towards the bathroom, ignoring the calls of your name as you shut and locked the door behind you. The handle jiggled frantically, a large body slamming into the door before the knocks started. 

“Doll? Doll, c’mon. Open up fer me.” Even to your ears, his voice sounded strained and panicked, but you couldn’t do it. The only thought on your mind was what he’d said earlier, about leaving you. “Please, sweetheart, just talk tae me. Dinnae shut me out!”

Turning the shower onto a blisteringly hot temperature, you crawled under the hot spray, tears rolling down your cheeks and mixing with the water as you cried, curled on the shower floor. The rapid knocking ceased or maybe you had just tuned it out under the sound of the pouring water. Maybe he’s finally gotten the message and decided you weren’t worth it, you thought miserably, head resting against the tiles. However, with John, that was wishful thinking. 

A few moments later, your ears managed to catch the sound of the lock clicking and the door being pushed open. Of course he could pick locks, idiot, you chided yourself. The curtain of the shower was pulled back, revealing his frantic, worried face. 

“What in God’s fucking name— fucking shite lassie!” He yelped in surprise at the heat of the water, hissing as he pulled his arm back and glaring at the tap. Turning the tap, the water immediately cooled, much to your dismay “Ye tryin’ tae burn yerself or summat?” 

“Yes.” You spat, the harshness of your tone taking him aback as you turned your body away from him. Frowning, John crouched down, his hand reaching to slide up your arm, but you pulled out of his reach. 

“What’s going on wit ye? Just upping and leaving like that?”

“Just leave!” You sobbed, curling into yourself tighter. He made a noise of confusion, climbing into the shower with you and sitting on the edge. 

“Nae until ye talk tae me.” 

“Why should I? You didn’t talk to me earlier.” John’s eyebrows remained pinched together as his head tilted, as though confused by your words. 

“Wha— hen, ye ken I cannae talk about my job. I’d just had a rough mission, needed to let off some steam.” Your eyes widened at his reasoning, tears pricking in them all over again as you scoffed at him, shaking your head. 

“Are you fucking serious? You needed to blow off steam?” The pitch of your voice rose as anger set in. “You fucked me like that because you needed to blow off steam?” 

The expression on John’s face grew a little more jaded as he eyed you cautiously. 

“What’s the matter? Ye had no issue wit it, ye came, ye didnae say no.” He shrugged, simply believing he was laying out facts as he stared at you, huddled in the corner on the shower floor. 

“You said you’d fuck someone else if I didn’t let you fuck me!” Reaching over, you shoved him, taking him by surprise. Confusion spread over his face as he processed your words before shaking his head. 

“I wouldnae dae that, lassie. Just was in a mood after we got back and needed a rough fuck.” A look of impatience was beginning to set in on his expression. “Ye didnae say no.” He repeated, raising his scarred brow. 

“I would have said no.”

“No, ye wouldnae have if i talked tae ye, so i just skipped a step. Ye never say no anyway.” Opening your mouth to protest, he waved his hand, voice turning gruff. “I dinnae wanna fight wit ye. I came here tae relax so are ye gonna calm down about this or am I gonna have tae leave?”

From your position on the floor of the shower, you turned your head away from him further, so he couldn’t witness you crying anymore than he already had. You felt stupid over how insecure you’d been, and felt you should have realised he wouldn’t go seeking someone else out, but the feeling still lingered deep in the back of your mind. 

“How was I supposed to know?” Sighing heavily, he ran a gentle hand through your drenched hair, wiping it off your face. 

“C’mon hen, get out of the shower. I’m nae talking tae ye in here like this. Yer being silly, doll.” Shrinking in on yourself, you nodded meekly, standing up under his watchful gaze. 

John didn’t speak through the process, pressing his fingers to your lips or holding up his hand if you even opened your mouth. Towelling you off, he pulled a clean shirt— one of his shirts, you noted— over your head before steering you into your bedroom. 

Stepping out for a moment, he came back in with your phone, your water bottle, and a heat pack. Silently, he set your bottle down before tucking the heat pad onto your chest before tucking you in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked your forehead, staring down at you. 

“Feeling better, doll?” 

“No.” His eyes closed as he sighed, jaw flexing. 

“Are ye gonna talk tae me properly?” 

“I was! You didn’t talk to me, John.” 

“Ye ken I’ve got a hard life, lassie. And I told ye I wasnae a good man. I’ve warned ye. Sometimes I just—” Biting his tongue and clenching his fists, he took a moment to breathe before continuing. “Sometimes I need tae fuck rough and hard, completely dominate something.”

“Then just tell me that. I thought I’d done something wrong, or made you upset. Then you said you’d fuck someone else and I… I didn’t know what to think. You’ve never been like that with me.” You stared up at him, but his eyes were locked onto the floor. His foot tapped rhythmically as you watched his jaw clench and unclench. 

“I’d never really hurt ye. Doll, ye mean a lot tae me. Just needed tae get that out of my system. Yer fine, we’re fine.” The casual dismissal as he stood up didn’t sit right with you, but you knew it wasn’t going anywhere, especially not with everything so raw and John on edge after just getting back. So you relented. 

“Okay. Just… you’re not mad at me, right?” Sliding under the covers, John wrapped a strong arm around you, pulling you close so he could spoon you, hand resting against your chest. 

“Nay, umnae mad at ye, lassie.” He confirmed, mumbling into the back of your neck. 

John fell asleep soon after that, his snoring filling the quiet room as you laid awake, crying silently in his arms. You were still confused and hurt by his actions, not really understanding why he’d reacted this way towards you, and why he refused to take any ownership. The whole relationship was a mess, with no real structure, but all the same, you couldn’t imagine yourself without him. 

Finally, after several hours lying awake, you managed to fall into a fitful sleep, plagued with horrid dreams about John leaving one day and never coming back. When you awoke the next morning, you felt groggy and disoriented. Glancing over, you saw the other side of the bed was empty. Trying to ignore the ache in your heart, you reached over to tug the pillow close, inhaling the lingering musky, yet spicy scent of John that you’d become accustomed to. 

The door clicked open and you bolted up, eyes wide. John was stepping into the room, two mugs of coffee in hand, his hair still ruffled by sleep. 

“Mornin’, lass. Didnae mean tae wake ye.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he set one mug down on your bedside table before sliding into his side of the bed. “Did ye sleep okay?” 

“Not really.” You told him honestly, but he seemed to expect that, already looking down at you fondly. Throwing an arm around your shoulders, he pulled your head down to rest against his bare chest. The soft hair tickled your nose slightly, but you buried your face into the firm chest, relishing in the warmth he provided. 

“My poor sweet girl. Not tae worry, ye can rest on me.” He kissed you again, running his hand up and down your back tenderly. You furrowed your brows, still slightly put off from the events of last night, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart thumped happily when things were easy like this. 

Keeping your mouth shut, you rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Reaching over to his side, he picked up a journal and flicked it open to a new page. 

“What’s this?”

“A journal.” His blunt tone broke into a soft laugh as you smacked his chest in annoyance. “Something I started a while back. Just tae note down a lot of things. Mission plans and such.”

He flicked a few pages back, showing you maps, lists, and sketches of various things he’d clearly come across while deployed. 

“You can draw?” He hummed, flicking a few more pages back until he found the one he wanted. Letting out a soft gasp, you pushed yourself up, looking down at your own face sketched into his journal countless times, each one displaying a different emotion. 

“Had tae draw most of ye from memory. Did that a few months ago on a few lonely nights when I was missing ye, and wasnae sure if I was gonna make it back.” Unable to take your eyes off the pages, you reached out to tenderly trace the lines, admiring every piece of artwork he’d created. In the corner of the page, he’d written one word: mine. 

“They’re amazing, John. I didn’t know you could do this.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he lifted his hand to cup your cheek. 

“I dinnae like showing it tae people. It’s… private.” There was an edge of reluctance to his voice, but his eyes were focused on yours, as though conveying a secret. Biting the inside of your cheek, you knew exactly what he was telling you, and it sent shivers down your body. 

“Thank you for trusting me.” 

“What kind of man would I be if I didnae trust my girl?” Tapping your chin with the tip of his pen, he flicked back to an empty page and began to write. 

The moment between you was sweet and domestic as he wrote in his journal, allowing you to read the entry as you curled into his side. That act alone eased the feeling in your chest, that he trusted you, and wanted you by his side. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you still wanted to face what had passed. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me last night, John?”  His breathing didn’t even stutter as he continued to write. 

“This mission was rough, darling. We— I lost a lot of good men because of a decision I had tae make.” The stubble on his jaw scratched against your forehead as he leaned his head down. “I needed tae take my mind off it.” 

Cupping the back of your head, his fingers threaded into your hair, holding you close to him. He breathed deeply, inhaling the calming scent of your shampoo. 

“Still, it would have been nice to just… know. I know you can’t tell me everything, but I’m not stupid, John. I want to be here for you.” Your hands curled around him, holding him close. 

“I dinnae deserve ye, lassie.” He murmured into your hair. “Yer far too good fer me. Deserve so much better than me.” 

“I want you, John. And you can’t change that. Just… if you’ve had a rough time, I need you to tell me. Sex can always be on the table, but I need you to talk to me first.” 

The blue of his eyes was wide as he stared down at you, breathing slowly before nodding. 

“Aye. I can dae that fer ye, darling.” Smiling happily, you lifted your head up to press your lips against his. He sighed into the kiss, lips slowly moving against yours as you tasted the coffee lingering on his tongue. The pair of you kissed languidly for quite some time, letting the minutes tick by as you found yourself lost in him. 

“Yer mine, right doll?” He asked between kisses, his hands gently caressing the back of your neck as he continued to slide his lips against yours. 

“Always, John.” 

“Good girl.”

•••

“I’d like tae take ye somewhere I used tae go as a wee yin.” He’d said one night as you lay, cuddled together on your sofa watching a movie. It had taken a couple of seconds for you to register the words, slowly turning your head to look up at him. 

“Somewhere in Scotland?” 

“Aye. I wanna show ye my home.” He murmurs, hand mindlessly drawing shapes on your back as he remains focused on the television. “Well, nae my home town but somewhere nice. We can get away, ye ken?”

“That sounds lovely.” Humming happily, you curled into his side, indulging in the firm stability his body provided. He made a noise of satisfaction, glancing down at you with a warm smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes. 

“Higher ups are pushin’ me tae take leave, so we can make a week of it, maybe a bit more. And dinnae fash yer wee head about plannin’ things, I’ll sort it out. Wanna treat my girl fer being so good tae me.” A warm buzzing filled your chest, and you felt your cheeks heat with pride. Though he never said those three little words you craved, his actions displayed more love and care that you’d received from any of your previous partners. The gifts he brought back from deployment, the nights he took you out for a nice meal, the way he worked to fix the issues that you’d been having in your flat, including the heater that your landlord had considered a ‘waste of his time and resources’. Though he never said that he loved you, he made you feel loved. 

In return, you tried to give back as much as he gave you. Cooking for him, treating him when he’d had a rough deployment, taking note of the things he enjoyed and making sure he had access to them in your home, loving him every way you knew how to. Now, with him planning a trip away like this, to his homeland no less, it felt like things were finally falling into place.

True to his word, John planned everything, keeping his cards close to his chest, only letting you know the dates of your departure and arrival back home so you could book off work. Sometimes you tried to take a snoop over his shoulder to get a glimpse of your destination, but you were always met with a playful admonishment and a tap on the nose. 

“Did no one teach ye patience, hen?” He scolded, but a wry grin spread over his face as he pulled you close. “Ye cannae wait a wee bit more?”

“I’m just excited. I haven’t gone away in so long. And you know I hate surprises.” Hoping to change his mind, you stuck out your bottom lip in a pout, and he chuckled. 

“I know we’ll have fun, darlin’. Just be patient. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” He ran a thumb over your bottom lip that was jutting out, pulling it down slightly before pressing his lips against yours. Meeting him eagerly, you wrapped an arm around his neck and he pulled you into his lap, cupping the back of your head to hold you to him. As most of his kisses did, it turned heated rather quickly, sending shivers down your spine as his hands groped at your body hungrily and his tongue pressed into your mouth. 

Sighing softly, you scraped your nails over the freshly buzzed sides of his hair that you’d done for him hours before, earning you a deep groan from him. He pulled back, breaking the kiss far too soon for your liking and stared deep into your eyes. 

“Fuck, lass. Ye know exactly how tae get me going.”

“You’re just easy.” A teasing smile graced your lips as you bit your lip. John let out an amused snort before fixing his hands around your waist and spinning you around so your back was on the sofa. The sudden movement surprised you, causing your breath to hitch and your hands to grip his shoulders.

“Bold words from the bonnie lass that cannae help but spread her legs fer me whenever I kiss her.” Whining out his name, you try to shove him back by his chest, much to his delight. Taking that as an invitation, he grabs your wrists, holding them together above your head. “When are ye gonna learn that ye cannae beat me, lass? I’ve got ye pinned.”

“Is this the real reason you’re taking me on a holiday?” You asked in jest. “So you can kiss me and tease me and bed me whenever you bloody well please?”

“I wouldnae say no tae that. And neither would you, given the way ye screamed my name last night as ye came ‘round my cock. Left scratches down my back and all.” His grin was cocky, brow raised as he stared down at you, beating you at your own game. Your face heated once more and you turned your head away from him with another pout. “Och, c’mon lassie. Ye ken I’m teasin’ ye.” 

Releasing your wrists, his hands returned to your sides and his mouth descended to your chest, nipping his way along your collarbones. Suppressing a moan, you ran your own hands up his back as your legs wrapped around his waist. The movement made him chuckle into your chest, lifting his head to cock his brow arrogantly. 

“Shut up.” You groused, pushing him lightly once more. 

“Tae answer yer question, umnae takin’ ye just tae bed ye, hen. I want us tae spend time together in my home country. Just us.” His rough hand gently cupped your cheek, thumb stroking over your cheekbone as he stared deep into your eyes. “But umnae gonna complain if we do.”

“You’d better not.” The snide reply was quickly drowned by giggles as he tickled up your sides. Tears of laughter pricked into the corners of your eyes as you tried to shove him away, but as always, his body was an immovable force. But he relented, resting his hands on the curve of your hips as he grinned above you. 

“Darlin’, I’m never gonna complain about being able tae be wit ye. Fuck, I’m the luckiest man alive.” No matter how hard you bit your lip, you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading wide across your face as you stared into his bright blue eyes. He made you happy, so incredibly happy, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

•••

Inverness was absolutely breathtaking, and quickly became one of your favourite places in the world. John had taken great care showing you around the unofficial highland capital, acting as your tour guide as he showed you around the highlands with pride. You couldn’t help but stare up at him in adoration as he spoke endlessly about the history of the town and surrounding areas, telling you old folk tales and legends. 

He’d taken you to Loch Ness and the castle overlooking the giant lake, telling you ghost stories about the Loch Ness Monster, and all those that she had taken to lie with her in the depths. You laughed at his stories as he held you by the lake, pouring you wine and kissing your neck. 

“I wouldnae let her take ye, doll.” He whispered against your neck, his fingers tracing along the hem of your shirt. “No one will take my girl from me, not even an old monster. Yer mine.” Laughing softly, you cupped the back of his neck, burying yourself into his warm embrace, the chilly wind nipping at your body. 

“You’d better not. I’d hate to live the rest of my life at the bottom of a lake. And without you, of course.” He made a noise of contentment, wrapping the plaid blanket further around the pair of you, holding you close under the fading light of the setting sun. You could easily feel the steady beating of his heart with how close he was, a complete contrast to your rapidly beating one. 

The pair of you headed back to the car once the sun had dipped below the horizon, the wind picking up and blowing your hair wildly around you. Lacing your fingers through his didn’t do much to stop the other hand that kept wandering down your body, groping you teasingly. Once you got to the car, John pushed you against the cool metal pressing his lips to yours for a moment before opening the door and climbing into the back seat with you. He took you right there, hips bucking up into yours as you rode him, panting, and fogging up the windows, not caring who saw, easily bringing you to your peak like he had so many times before.

During your trip, Inverness’ monthly farmer’s market was on, allowing the two of you to peruse the local hand-made goods. John kept a close eye on everything you took an interest in, telling you that if you wanted it, he’d buy it for you. Of course, you initially refused, but John was stubborn and soon enough, his arms were full of things you’d taken a liking to. 

“You didn’t have to! You’re the one that’s paying for so much of this trip. I feel bad.” You told him as you sat down for lunch in a local pub. A lively folk band was playing music, but you and John were tucked in a booth in the corner, far enough away that you didn’t have to strain your voices over the instruments. Waving a hand in dismissal, John shook his head at your words. 

“Pay it no mind, doll. I like buyin’ things fer ye. Seeing that bonnie smile on yer face makes it worth it.” Your face immediately broke into a shy grin and you glanced away from him, nudging his shin with your foot.

“Still, I don’t know how I can repay you.” Setting his drink down with a soft sigh, he reached out to take your hand, thumb tracing over yours as he stared kindly at you. 

“You bein’ here wit me is payment enough, darlin’.” His eyes were warm, making your heart hammer in excitement, your head feeling giddy with happiness. Raising your glass, you clinked it against his, hooking your ankles with his under the table, causing him to smile coyly at your playfulness. “Though maybe if ye keep that up, I’ll be seekin’ payment in other ways.”

“You’ll get us kicked out of here.” You scolded him, immediately catching his implication. The smile on his face only spread, eyes glittering roguishly.

“It wouldnae be me causing us tae get kicked out, doll. It’d be you and yer inability to keep yer mouth shut and voice down when I’m inside ye.” That comment earned him a swift kick to the shins under the table, making him grunt out a low curse. 

The cottage he’d rented for your stay was quaint and old-fashioned, a short drive out of the main town, located on a farmer’s property. The couple who owned the farm were older, but incredibly sweet, making themselves available for anything you or John needed during your stay. The lady of the house always seemed to have a twinkle in her eye whenever she looked at the pair of you.

“Is this a special trip fer the two of ye?” She’d asked one morning as you joined her in feeding the chickens. 

“Not particularly. Just a nice getaway for the two of us. He’s quite a busy man.” You replied over your shoulder as you moved to collect the eggs for her.

“Och, I dinnae think so, lassie. Ye should see the way the lad looks at ye when yer not payin’ attention. If I wasnae mistaken, I’d say he looks ready tae get on his knees fer ye.” There was that gleam again in her eye as she spoke, and you felt the tips of your ears heating at her implication. 

“No, not yet. We’re…” Trailing off, your brows furrowed as you thought about how to label your relationship. John had always turned the conversation around if you’d even attempted to approach the subject, or given you a vague answer. Then, he did things like this, romantic things that made you crave more and left you more confused than ever about his intentions. “It’s complicated.” You finished off your sentence cryptically. 

“Aye, a lot of the good relationships are. Pay it no mind. Lads that have seen many horrors tend tae take a wee while tae come ‘round. My husband was the same. Took him nigh on 6 winters to propose. Certainly wasnae the way things were done in my day. But I loved him, and I ken he loved me. I reckon yer laddie’s much the same.” Fluffing her apron, she grabbed the now empty basket of feed and began walking back to the main house with you in tow. 

Her words ran through your head for the rest of the day as you spent time with John. He knew something was on your mind, but he didn’t address it until later at night when the pair of you were indulging in a glass of wine in the hot tub that overlooked the rolling hills of the farm.

“What’s been on yer mind today, hen?” Reaching out, he pulled you onto his lap. Having the small cottage to yourself, the pair of you had foregone clothes, leaving his hands free to roam your bare body under the warm water without restriction as he waited for you to speak.

“Just Mrs Fraser being her usual self.” Keeping your tone casual, you attempted to brush off his question, but his large hand squeezed your waist, signalling you to continue. “She was commenting on you, and how you look at me. How we remind her of her and her husband when they were younger.”

“How so?” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he kept his tone light, matching yours.

“She could tell you’ve been through things. Said her husband was similar and that it took him a while longer than she expected for the relationship to progress, and she was assuming you were the same.” His hand squeezed your waist again, more firmly this time, conveying his discomfort, making your heart sink. 

“And what did ye tell her?” 

“Well there isn’t much to tell her, is there?” You tried to keep your tone neutral, but it came out slightly harsher than you’d meant, evident by the way John’s body grew rigid. The man sighed, tilting his head down to rest on your shoulder. 

“Darlin’, please, dinnae think that I like keeping ye out. I care fer ye, deeply. Christ, I’ve taken ye here, tae my home, what more do ye want?” 

“I know it takes time,” you said patiently, having taken a breath to calm yourself down, “and I appreciate everything that we’ve done together, but sometimes I wish I could have more of you. There are parts of you that are just… untouchable.” Placing a hand over his heart, you smiled at him softly, wriggling closer to his body for warmth as the wind picked up. 

“There are parts of me I’d never want ye tae see, sweetheart.” His voice was barely above a whisper, eyes sad as he lifted a hand up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing along the skin. 

“Why?”

“Please, dinnae ask that.” His voice cracked and he pulled your forehead closer to rest against his. Fingertips gripped the back of your neck as he breathed shakily, squeezing his eyes closed. Sensing something was eating at him, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close, tucking your chin on top of his head. And once again, that was the end of that discussion. 

He didn’t bed you that night, instead choosing to hold you tightly, pressed against his chest for comfort. Whenever you tried to roll away, he grunted in protest, pulling you back against him and pushing his face into the crook of your neck. Eventually, you relented, allowing him to pull you closer and keep you locked against his body. Reaching down, you laced your fingers through his, and he hummed in approval, finally content that he was getting his way. 

Words that Mrs Fraser had said earlier though rang in your mind, making it difficult to sleep. But I loved him, and I ken he loved me. To be perfectly honest, you weren’t entirely sure if John did actually love you. Sure, he made you feel loved, but he’d always kept his emotions close to his chest. Snorting in his sleep, John moved, grunting as he held you close. Maybe you could wait a little longer to make things official, if this was how it felt to be with him in the meantime. 

The local pub was hosting a well-known cèilidh band on the last night of your stay. The excitement in the town was palpable leading up to the event, and even John had a smile on his face as he spoke to you about it. 

“I’m gonna put ye in mah clan colours and everything, lassie,” he boasted, “ye gonna have the time of ye life.” It was impossible to not get swept up in it all. There was a knock at the cottage door and you opened it, revealing Mrs Fraser with a bundle of red tartan. John let out a noise of thanks as he stepped behind you. 

“I’ll thank ye fer that, Mrs Fraser.” The smile on his face seemed to spread from ear to ear as he took the plaid from the older lady. 

“Ye need naw thank me, lad. T’was an easy find.” She then turned her attention to you. “Is it yer first cèilidh?” Nodding, you looked between John and Mrs Fraser, both of them beaming. “Yer gonna have a grand old time. Just remember tae wear sensible shoes, or better yet, go wi’out. The last thing ye want tae do is be the first lassie tae sit down complaining of sore feet.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that.” 

“And no doubt the wee lad will teach ye the basics. But dinnae worry about makin’ a wrong step. Ye’ll be welcome all the same.” Mrs Fraser dusted off her apron for a moment, sending a cloud of flour into the air. “If ye need me, I’ll be in my kitchen. I’m helpin’ the barkeep with catering.” And then she was off. 

John angled his head, looking down at you, his eyes alight with boyish mischief. Wrapping a hand around you, he pulled the pair of you inside the cottage and shut the door. He strode with purpose towards the table, spreading the tartan material out before turning around to face you, chest puffing. 

“It’s the MacTavish clan colours.” He announced proudly. “What dae ye think?” Stepping forward, you reached out to finger the fabric. It was a deep, rich red; one that would definitely compliment the blue of his eyes. 

“It’s beautiful.” You said honestly and he hummed in approval, sliding his hands around your waist to hug you from behind. Pressing his face into your neck, he kissed along the skin as his hands travelled up to cup your breasts. 

“Just like you. And yer gonna look perfect in it.” He repeated, moving his body side to side, continuing the slow tune as his hands continued to roam. 

“You really know how to dance?”

“Aye, I ken my way around the dances. If not, I’ll just improvise. It’s all about the atmosphere. Now, get dressed, or we’re not gonna make it in time.” 

The pair of you almost didn’t make it in time for the opening song. The band was poised and ready to start when you slipped your way in, hair a little more mussed than you would have liked, because when you’d come out wearing the tartan sash, John had all but lost control, and bent you over the cottage table as he lifted his kilt up to take you then and there. His face was glowing as he pulled you into his side, listening to the jolly tune of the music begin to fill the room. 

“Ye ready, hen?” Biting your lip nervously, you gave him a half shrug, and he let out a dismissive noise. “Ye’ll be fine. Nothin’ tae it. Just have fun wit me, aye?” 

You found yourself drawn into his bright eyes, full of excitement as he tilted his head, tugging at your waist. With little resistance he pulled you into the throng of people. Taking firm hold of you with one hand, and clasping yours in his other, John began to lead you through the dances. They were fairly simple, steps all in time with the rhythmic beat, and soon enough, you found yourself lost in the music. 

There was little reprieve between songs, with the next starting up almost immediately after the former had finished, but you found yourself so captivated by your dance partner that you felt little need to rest. He had you twirling, and stepping, and spinning for what felt like hours on end, each dance different than the last. 

Face spread wide into a grin the whole time, you stared up into his equally joyful one; smile lines and crow’s feet prominent as he laughed, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. Sweat beaded on your brow and you felt your lungs heaving from effort, but you continued to follow John’s lead, allowing him to pull you around the dance floor in a series of steps until the music swelled and with a final step, he pulled you tight against him and the musicians stopped playing, the room instead filled with copious cheers and applauses for the band. 

You, instead of clapping along with the crowd, were completely captivated by the man in front of you. His face was flushed red, sweat causing the tips of his mohawk to stick to his forehead. His chest was heaving as he panted, but he kept you locked against him as he stared down at you with an elated smile. 

“Ye never told me ye could dance like that, lassie.” He said breathlessly, finally breaking the spell between you and pulling you off to the bar to get some water. 

“Neither did you!” You responded, equally as tired. Handing you a glass first, you thanked him and immediately brought the cup to your lips, draining the glass and refilling it once more. 

“Reckon ye could go another round?” His voice was casual, but you could hear the slight upward lilt to his question, as if he were hoping you’d say yes. Smiling widely, you hooked your arm around his, setting the glass aside.

“For you? Anything.” His eyes crinkled with happiness and he leaned in to press a soft peck to your lips before pulling you back onto the dance floor. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in that pub for, nor how long you’d been dancing, but the air slowly became stifling the longer you danced. When the band finally bid their farewells for the night, you and John stepped outside, breathing in lungfuls of the cool night air. 

“That was amazing.” Tilting your head up to lean against his shoulder, you grinned up at him as he threw an arm around you, pulling you into his side as you walked through the empty streets. 

“I’m glad ye enjoyed it. It's been a while since I took any time tae myself.” Sighing heavily, he tilted his head up to look at the sky. “I’ve missed bein’ home.” 

“Thank you for bringing me here, John,” Halting your movements, you wrapped your arms around his neck before pulling him into a soft kiss which he eagerly returned, hands clutching at your waist. “I’ve had the most wonderful time with you.” 

The car ride back was quiet, but not tense as he held your hand, fingers intertwined together. He glanced over at you every so often, the corner of his mouth lifting up. Pulling up at the small cottage one final time, you looked at it wistfully. 

“Time’s really flown by. I almost don’t want to go back.” 

“Then we’d best make a night of it. What do ye say, lassie?” He grinned, stepping out of the car and walking over to your side to open the door for you as rain began to fall. Ushering you towards the cottage, he pushed the door open, but was stopped by your hand grabbing his shirt. Making a noise of confusion, he looked over his shoulder to see you looking out at the falling rain. Turning back, with a glint in your eye, you motioned with you head. 

“Dance with me again?” 

“Ye wanna dance in the rain?” Chuckling, John shook his head, raising an eyebrow dubiously, but you persisted. 

“Please? I know it’s cliche but let me have this. Come on, John!” Sticking out your bottom lip in a pout, you could see the exact moment when John caved. Eyes closing, he grinned broadly before taking your hand and pulled you out underneath the cloudy sky. 

Shrieking at the initial feeling of the cool water droplets on your skin, it was soon forgotten as he once more began to lead you in a dance of his own choosing. Laughing and twirling, you spun around with him, skirt and kilt flapping in the wind alike. The pair of you danced until you felt the material of your dress sticking to your skin and his hair was plastered to his scalp. Your lips were spread wide in a grin as you looped your arms around his neck, staring into his eyes and you realised that you couldn’t be happier. That this, that he, was what you wanted. 

“I think… I think I’m falling in love with you, John.” Your voice was barely audible as you blinked up at him, wet lashes clinging together. His brows pinched slightly in confusion. 

“What d’ye mean, darlin?”

“I love you, John. Truly. I love you.” The soft sway he’d been leading you through halted as he looked down at you. His eyes grew wide as he glanced between yours, taking in your expression, and realising just how serious you were, he swallowed audibly. 

“Ye cannae mean that.” He whispered just as softly as he looked deep into your eyes, a gentle hand pushing the hair off your forehead. 

“I’m serious. I know you have your reservations about us, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I want this, it feels right. We feel right.” You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, terrified as to what he would say. The hands behind his neck were clasped tightly, nails digging into your palms as you tried to keep yourself distracted from the lengthy periods of silence. 

His eyes were wet, from tears or rain you weren’t sure, and his breathing was ragged. Sliding a hand up to cup the back of your head, he leaned in to press his forehead against yours. 

“Ye should leave me. Run far from me.” He said, but his actions were in direct opposition to his words. He clung to you, one hand on your waist as his fingers gripped you tightly. 

“You keep saying that. But you’ve done nothing to hurt me, John. Everything you do is to protect me.” 

“S’why I’m tryin’ tae protect ye now, lassie.”

“You come back from your trips and you stay in my house. You take the time out of your day to visit me at work and walk me to my car. You fix things around my house without question. Whoever you are to the rest of the world, you’re different with me. I want this. I want you.”

The pained expression on his face made your stomach lurch, making you nauseous and you begun to second guess yourself and his intentions. 

“I just dinnae want ye tae regret choosing someone like me.”

“I could never regret choosing someone like you.” Cupping his cheek, you watch his eyes shut and he lets out a breathy chuckle, as if he knew a secret you didn’t

“Dae ye trust me, darlin?”

“With all my heart.”

“Then say it again tae me.”

“I love you.” 

“Again.” His hands clutch at your sides, pinning you to him, not caring about your drenched clothes as he buries his face in your neck. 

“I love you, John.” 

“Jesus, lassie… yer gonna ruin me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You couldn’t help the grin that was spreading back over your face and then finally, John stood up tall, eyes staring down at you as he cupped your cheeks in his cold hands. 

“Ye mean more tae me than I can put into words.” He whispered solemnly. “I cannae promise ye much, but I do promise that ye have my heart. Ye always have, and ye always will.” 

Surging forward, he pressed his lips against yours. His mouth was demanding and possessive as his grip tightened around you, holding your body against his, as if he were afraid to lose you. It was rough and eager, cold lips sliding against yours as he pulled you towards the cottage. Fumbling at the front door for a moment, he pushed it open and without breaking the kiss, pulled you inside and pressed you against the wall as he slammed the door shut. His hands were greedy, roaming down your body and tugging at the dress you wore, peeling it off your body.

Steering you deeper into the house, you found that Mr Fraser, bless his soul, had lit a fire in the grate for the pair of you. The warmth of it was already spreading comfortingly through the air, drying your damp skin. John made quick work of your clothes, pulling them off and tossing them aside with little regard for where they landed and he did the same with his own, only breaking the kiss once to tug his shirt over his head. 

His lips weren’t gone from yours long, immediately re-attaching as his calloused hands slid up the contours of your body, taking in every inch of you with gentle attentiveness.

“Sue me fer bein’ cliche,'' He groaned between kisses as he continued to push you into the main area of the cottage, “but I wanna have ye by the fire.” Grinning into the kiss, you nodded, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck to hold him to you. He grabbed a blanket and pillow from the couch as you passed, nudging you towards the fireplace. 

He broke the kiss, and you whined in displeasure, but soon choked out a soft moan instead as his mouth trailed wet kisses down your body. Kneeling down in front of you, his hands grabbed your ass as his mouth continued downwards, nipping over your hips and thighs. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous. So fuckin’ gorgeous. And yer mine, all fuckin’ mine.” He groaned pathetically, head resting on your hip as he panted, breath fanning over your skin. Running a hand through his cropped hair, you tilted his head up to meet his eyes. His brows were pinched together, mouth parted as the scruff of his stubble grazed your skin. 

“I love you.” John groaned again, eyes fluttering shut, his lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. 

“Fuck me, I’ll never be sick of ye sayin’ that tae me.” His breath tickled your skin as he lightly dragged his teeth over the skin of your stomach, his hands sliding up the curve of your ass. “Please, I need ye, doll.” 

His voice was strained, desperate as he blinked up at you, hands tugging you down until you were spread over the plush rug. John hooked your legs around his hips, placed the pillow underneath, and leaned in to capture your lips once again. You could feel his hard, leaking cock pressing against the inside of your thigh as he groaned throatily. 

Tucking his face into your neck, he sucked claiming marks onto your skin, working his way down to your breasts. Cupping them in his hands, he paid careful attention to both, splitting his time evenly as he dragged his tongue over and sucked at your nipples. Whining softly, you arched your back, pressing yourself into his hands, wanting more, but he was content on taking his time. 

“Just let me worship ye, darlin’. Yer worth it, every fuckin’ moment of it.” Moving down, he trailed his hands up the backs of your thighs, holding your legs apart so he could lower his face between your legs. 

Unable to stifle your noises, you moaned in ecstasy as he sealed his mouth over your clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive nerves as he sucked intently. Glancing down, your heart leaped as you saw his eyes staring straight at your pleasure filled face. 

Reaching a hand down, his fingers slid between your already soaked folds, pressing his thick digits deep into you. The pair of you moaned in unison, you at the stretch and him and the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The light of the fire cast a golden glow over the pair of you, heating you from the outside even as John’s actions made your hair stand on end. 

“That’s it, mah bonnie hen. Take it. Take everything ye need from me.” Curling his fingers and brushing against that sweet spot deep inside you, John continued to stimulate you, focusing all his attention on your release. The slick sound of his fingers entering you mixed with your soft noises and the crackles of the fire made your head spin as he cooed appraising words. 

“So good fer me. So fuckin’ good. Can feel how wet ye are, how badly ye want this. God ye look so fuckin’ bonnie like this.” Feeling you clench around his fingers again, he doubled his efforts, grunting as he buried his face into your cunt. 

Gasping, your breathing turned ragged as you carded your hands through the strands of his hair, toes curling as you felt the familiar coil in your gut. 

“John!” Your voice was desperate and needy and you canted your hips up, chasing the heavenly feeling of his mouth against you. He hummed, sending vibrations through your core, making you shiver. Not letting up, John continued to suck on your clit and kept his fingers deep in your cunt, the stubble on his face burning your inner thighs pleasurably. 

You could feel your body heating up quickly, a mix of the roaring fire nearby and the way John so attentively brought you closer. Placing one of his large hands on your stomach, you glanced down to look into his eyes once more. His eyes were wide and desperate, pleading with you as his tongue continued to flick and swirl exactly how you liked it. 

Unable to hold on anymore, your body jerked as you cried out, one hand pinned to his hair and the other grasping at the rug below you. John didn’t let up until your body stopped shaking, and when he pulled away, you could see the glint of your wetness covering his chin in the firelight as he stared down at you with a wolfish grin. 

“I’ll never get over how ye taste either.” He growled, eyes dark with lust as he crawled his way up your body. Hitching your legs over his hips, he dragged his leaking cock up your slit, cursing under his breath at the feeling. Resting his forehead against yours, he sunk into you easily, the pair of you moaning in sync at the feeling. 

His breathing was shaky as his hips thrust forward into yours, slowly working up a rhythm that had you curling your toes and clutching at his strong arms. 

“Just— fuck— lemme have ye,” Lowering his face, mouth against your ear, you could hear every moan and grunt that left his lips as he continued to rut into you leisurely, “I need ye so fuckin’ badly. Ye feel heavenly wrapped around me like this.” 

His breathing turned ragged the longer he fucked you. He never tired and never slowed down as though thrusting into you was keeping him alive. A hand threaded through your hair at the crown of your head, clutching tightly and keeping your head still as the pace began to increase. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing pleasurably against your clit with every stroke, feeding your need for him further. 

“You have me, you’ve always had me.” You whispered into his ear, pressing your body up against his, a thin sheen of sweat causing your bodies to slide against each other. Every thrust of his cock was slippery, meeting no resistance as he continued to grunt and moan next to your ear. 

Everything was hot; the air, the fire, his body, his breath panting against your neck, and the familiar heat once more curling inside you. He was rambling now, making nonsensical noises as he continued to pump his hips. You could feel your head spinning, losing your sense of self the longer he was inside you. Running your hands along his arms and locking your legs around his hips, you moaned encouragingly, close to finding your release. 

“Together. Please— fuck— I need tae feel ye come ‘round me as I fill ye.” He groaned, the hand that was still in your hair clutching tightly, but not painfully as his other hand wrapped around your thigh, keeping you pinned to him. “Please, love. Please.” 

Hearing the term of endearment sent jolts down your spine, and you bucked your hips up to meet his, the stimulation becoming too overwhelming. Gripping onto him tightly, you cried out, walls squeezing and fluttering tightly around his cock. John choked out a low sound, nails digging into the skin of your thigh as his pace stuttered and he quickly followed suit, spilling himself deep into you. 

Panting heavily, John’s heavy body remained tightly pressed against yours, not wanting to pull back just yet. You weren’t complaining, especially as you kept your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, making his cock twitch mildly even as it flagged inside of you. 

“Say it.” His voice was hoarse as he breathed, the side of his head resting against yours. 

“I love you.” You repeated again, much to his delight. Pushing himself up, he stared down at you, his eyes soft and appraising as his large hands ran down your front appreciatively. 

“I dinnae deserve ye. But I’m selfish, and I willnae let ye go.” The words were barely audible, but they made your heart thump happily nonetheless. Feeling tears of happiness prick into your eyes, you sniffed, legs still wrapped around him tightly. 

After spending what felt like hours kissing, still intimately connected in front of the fire, John finally carried you to the bedroom where he once again worshipped you over and over again. The moments felt like bliss as you kept confessing, and he kept taking and taking. It was hours later when the pair of you finally drifted off, worn out and tightly wrapped around each other, sleeping peacefully. Finally, you thought, things were finally how they should be. 

•••

The trip home was pleasant, albeit sad as you mourned the honeymoon-esque time you’d had away with John. His hand rested comfortably over your knee, thumb caressing your soft skin every so often. Glancing over to you occasionally, he met your eyes, the corner of his lips pulling upwards into a smirk. It wasn’t long before your street came into view, and John pulled up outside your flat. 

He insisted on carrying the bags inside, refusing to accept your help as he lugged them up the stairs. Opening the door for him, he pushed inside and placed the bags down. 

“Home, sweet home.” He sighed, sprawling down onto the couch with his arm and legs open wide. Grinning, you slid into his arms, allowing them to wrap tightly around you as you lay against his chest, humming softly. 

“Thank you, John. For everything. That was amazing.” 

“Aye, it was,” He whispered, running a hand through your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. “Woulda given anythin’ tae stay there longer.” His voice sounded almost remorseful. 

“We should do it. Leave our jobs and buy a farm in Scotland. Can have cows and chickens, grow old together like the Fraser’s.” The smile spread wider on your lips as the words came out, mostly said in jest, but a lingering want was still settling deep in your heart. 

You hadn’t really spoken about your confession since the previous night, but you could tell things had changed between you and John. Though the car ride back had been mostly silent, he’d kept a hand on you the entire time, as though making sure you were still there. There had been a shift between the pair of you, and despite John still not being completely open with his feelings, the way he looked at you now made up for everything. 

He cupped your cheek, looking down at you fondly as you lay on him. His lips were pulled up in a soft smile as his calloused thumb brushed the skin under your eye.

“Say it.” His voice was barely audible, as though he was terrified to even utter the words. 

“I love you.” The hand that was wrapped around your shoulders squeezed you tightly, his eyes brimming with emotion

“I dinnae think I deserve yer love, but I’m gonna take everythin’ yer willing tae give me.” Pulling you closer, he rested his forehead on yours, breathing deeply. “My girl.” 

His hands moved, sliding down your body to grip your ass, pulling your hips firmly against his. Nosing your head up, he sought out your lips, leaning in for a deep kiss to make the moment even sweeter. 

Running your palms up his chest, you gripped the soft fabric of his shirt, knees coming up on either side of his hips so you could position yourself more comfortably. Your teeth tugged on his lip, sucking it into your mouth and making him groan throatily.  His lips moved against yours with an increased fervour, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips to slide into your mouth as you sighed. 

With the kiss deepening, his hands roamed further, moving underneath your shirt to press against your body. Bending his knees, he shifted his hips, bucking you slightly so you could feel the press of his rapidly thickening erection, making you smile into the kiss. 

“Already needy, John?” You teased, pulling back and kissing along his jawline. His lips were red and swollen as his eyes fluttered, rolling as you ground yourself on top of him.

“Always fucking needy for ye, lassie.” He panted, turning his head to try and reconnect your lips when he was interrupted by a phone ringing. His work phone. 

The sound had always made your heart sink, because it was usually followed by him leaving suddenly. Normally, he answered it without much complaint, holding you close for a brief moment and telling you that he’d be back before you knew it. This time, his hands gripped your hips tightly, brows drawn together as he stared blankly in the direction of the phone, before shaking his head. 

“No. They can fuckin’ wait. Yer more important right now.” The words made your eyes widen, mouth opening in shock, but you didn’t have long to process what it meant before he restarted the kiss. Threading a hand in your hair, he held you close, making sure you couldn’t even pull away. Your heart leapt. 

The happiness didn’t last long, however, as the phone rang twice more. It was on the fourth ring that John let out a frustrated growl, pushing to sit up and reaching for the damned mobile. Answering it, he pressed it to his ear. 

“Ye’d better have a good fucking reason fer callin’.” He grit out. The tone of his voice made you shiver, recalling that night a few months ago where he’d first been really rough with you, and found yourself not being envious of the person on the other end. 

The hope of getting back to what you were doing before the call faded as you saw the shift in John’s expression, his brows now pinched in worry. He glanced at you apologetically, but you’d already resigned your fate, reaching over to squeeze his wrist affectionately before letting him go. Standing up, John spoke in a hushed tone as he walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Sighing, you leaned back against the couch, staring at your bedroom door, wishing he’d walk out and say everything was fine and they didn’t need him, but the chances of that were slim. They always needed Captain MacTavish. 

Sliding your hand into your pocket, you reached for your phone before realising it wasn’t there. Cursing, you searched your bag before remembering you’d placed it on charge during the drive home. Shaking your head in annoyance, you grabbed the keys to his car and headed downstairs. 

It was there in the cup holder, still plugged in. Removing the cable and wrapping it up, you opened the centre console to put it inside before something caught your eye. Frowning, you tilted your head, reaching down to pick up the small, black ring box. 

Surely not, you thought, surely he hadn’t already bought you a ring…

You debated for a split second, wondering if it was something you should put back, but you couldn’t help the excited feeling that was clawing its way into your chest. Pursing your lips, you opened the box. 

At the sight of the contents, you frowned. It was a men’s ring. Gold and clearly worn, given the many scratches and dulling of the metal, with what appeared to be engraving on the inside. Your breath hitched and, with a shaking hand, you picked up the piece of jewellery against your better judgement. 

JM + LM

10/10/2010

Gu sìorraidh is gu bràth

You froze, mouth turning dry as you stared at the carved letters on the inside of the ring. The thumping in your chest was growing louder and faster, and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. Rationally, you tried to make yourself think of every single possibility you could to justify it. 

Licking your lips in an attempt  to wet them, but your tongue felt like sandpaper, breath ragged and loud. Shoving the ring back into the box as if it had burned you, the lid of the centre console slamming shut as you locked the car behind you. Leaning against the passenger side door, you could feel yourself struggling to breathe, your mind going cloudy as your eyes became unfocused. 

He was married. John was fucking married. 

No matter what far-fetched, imaginative thought you tried to conjure up to explain it, you knew, deep in your heart that none of them were true. The way he’d acted, being so avoidant of proclaiming love and affection, the way he’d called himself selfish, and that you should run away… he wasn’t wrong. He’d been telling you the truth this whole time in his own twisted, fucked up way. 

God you were so fucking blind and stupid to fall for all his sweet words. 

Curling your fingers into a fist and sucking in a deep breath, you pushed yourself off the car to move back towards your flat for the inevitable. As you stepped inside, John was stepping out of your bedroom, sighing and shaking his head. 

“Cannae do anything right wi’out me, honestly. It’s like I have tae fucking babysit them through every wee thing— ye awryt, lassie?” Frowning, John tilted his head, taking in your rigid posture and stony expression. He made a move to step towards you, but you quickly stepped back in response, holding up a hand. 

His mouth parted, but he remained silent, eyes tracing every feature of your face as though he was trying to read your mind. You hated the fact you could see the hurt in his expression and it almost made your next words falter. But you pushed through. 

“Are you married?” 

The slight widening of his eyes only appeared for a fraction of a second, but it was enough proof for you. Taking a step back from him, you let out a shaky breath, staring directly at him. 

“Are you fucking married, John?” Your voice was demanding now as you repeated the words, having found the groove and dug in. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, pursing his lips and blinking slowly to meet your hard gaze. 

“Hen, it’s not—”

“Just tell me the fucking truth. Are you married?” The emphasis you placed on the last three words was deafening, and you could see the cracks forming in his composure. His carefully calculated image was breaking before your eyes as he fought for control. 

“It’s nothing, she means nothing—”

“She’s your wife, John MacTavish.” 

“She’s not you.” The words were like a punch to your gut, making you shake your head at him, scoffing. 

“Yeah? Because I’m new? I’m young? I’m… fun? You needed to feel something else in your life because your marriage was getting stagnant? Wanted someone to make you feel loved, is that it?” 

“Don’t you be putting words in my mouth.” He snapped, eyes flashing darkly as he raised a finger towards you. You slapped the hand away. 

“Don’t you dare point your finger at me. How fucking dare you. Did you even care? Or was I just someone else you could come to and fuck when your wife wouldn’t?” Muscles twitched in his jaw as his eyes narrowed in fury. His fist clenched and unclenched as he breathed, staring at you unwaveringly. 

“Is that what ye want me tae say? That I was just using ye tae warm my cock?” His lip curled upwards as he sneered. “Yer more than that, and ye know it.” 

“So what was it, then?” You demanded, biting your tongue to distract you as tears threatened to fall. “She didn’t give you enough attention? Needed something new in your life?” 

“Stop! Just—” Sucking in a breath, John’s face relaxed a fraction as he stepped forward, his hands resting on your shoulders as he pushed you back against the wall. As much as you attempted to resist, you couldn’t break free so you tilted your head up and glared at him instead. “Are ye gonna let me talk?” 

“Why should I, John? You’re a married man, I’m a homewrecker. Tell me why you deserve to be listened to?” The fingers on your shoulders pressed a little harder into your skin as his eyes squeezed tightly in pain. 

“Yer not, lassie. Please, this is on me. I didnae explain it to ye properly.” 

“What is there to explain? You’re married, end of story!” 

“No, there’s more just, fuck, listen tae me.” He growled, pressing you against the wall, but you shoved him away, causing him to back up a few steps. 

“Does she even know?” You spat, your nose twitching in disgust. 

“Of course not. Not that it matters anyway.” He spat back with venom. “She’s a cheating whore—”

“And that justifies your actions?” Shaking your head, you pointed your finger at him, pacing back and forth. “No, you don’t get to play the sympathy card.” 

“What? Ye would have done the same thing if I told ye the story from the beginning anyway. I saw how ye looked at me.” 

“Don’t you dare put the blame on me!” You snapped at him, eyes blazing with fury. “I didn’t know and you hid it from me.” 

“I’m sorry, alright?” He gasped, voice strained as he took hold of your wrists and pulled you close. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have told ye but I didnae ken how. Please, love, please.” 

“Are you really sorry? Because saying it and meaning it are two very different things.” The words were cold and without feeling as you stared blankly at the floor, already pulling your hands away. Letting out a strangled noise, he reached for your head, tilting it up to force your eyes to meet his.

“Don’t do this love, please. Listen tae me. Listen please.” His voice cracked as he begged, large hands cupping either side of your face. “Fuck, I didn’t mean for it tae be like this. Ye mean everything tae me.” 

“Not enough that you couldn’t be honest with me from the start because you knew it was wrong.” 

Despite how hurt you felt, watching his face crumple made your heart clench painfully. Shaking his head, John held you firmly, eyes starting into yours imploringly. 

“I should have told ye, I know I made mistakes, I know I wasnae honest but please, you have to listen—”

“No. I’ve had enough. Get out.” Pushing him away, you pointed towards the door. 

“But I—” 

“Get out, John!” You yelled, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “Get the fuck out of my flat.” 

The hurt on his face was evident and he took a step forward to reach for you one final time, but you pulled back out of his reach. Shaking your head minutely, you shut your eyes, trying to level your breathing. 

“Just go.” 

You didn’t open your eyes to start sobbing until you heard the front door click shut. 

•••

Filling the hole in your heart that John left was excruciating. He’d dug himself into every aspect of your life, reminding you constantly of his presence at every turn of your head. One night in a drunken fit of rage, you’d collected all the belongings he’d left behind along with every gift he’d bought you, shoved them into a large rubbish bag and tossed it outside. The next morning, it was gone. Whether or not John had picked it up himself wasn’t your issue. 

Blocking his number was another task you’d struggled with. At first, you’d forgotten, but then after the first day apart, the barrage of texts came through 

-> Please let me explain

-> I’m sorry, lass, please

-> I swear I’ll tell you everything 

-> Don’t shut me out 

-> I can fix this, please let me fix this 

-> I can’t be without you 

-> Please don’t let it end like this 

-> I need you 

-> I love you 

The last message had been the final straw, leaving a foul taste in your mouth. He hadn’t bothered to say it in person, struggled to do so in fact, so over text the words felt meaningless. A desperate plea to win back your favour. 

He’d thankfully steered clear of your workplace so far. You’d used the opportunity to pick up extra shifts to keep yourself busy, allowing your mind to run on autopilot throughout the weeks. 

As if you couldn’t help it, your eyes tended to find their way over to the corner of the bar where John had always sat, bringing unwanted emotions to the surface once more. The stool was currently vacant, as was most of the bar since it was nearing closing time. Sighing heavily and murmuring a good night, the last patron left, and you locked the door behind him and sunk to the floor in tears again. 

This cycle repeated for a couple of months, drowning yourself in work, drink, or other distractions to keep your mind off of John and how much you missed him. Other soldiers came into the bar, but never him. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to see him again, how it would make you feel if he did turn up. 

Everything was cold and numb without him, but there was still the bitter taste of betrayal that lingered on your tongue. The fact that he’d been married and never said a word haunted your dreams, and you began to lose count of the times you’d woken up feeling the pain all over again. 

Leaving the bar later than usual, you took a longer route home, stopping to pick up some of your favourite takeaway food before heading back. Locking your car and walking up the stairs, your mind was preoccupied on thinking what show you were going to watch to decompress that you almost missed it. The smell of tobacco with a hint of scotch and coffee lingered around your front door, making you freeze. 

Your hand was shaking as you reached for the metal handle, twisting it to find it already unlocked. In the midst of everything, you’d forgotten that John had a key to your place this whole time. Blood began to pump faster, your ears ringing as your mouth became dry. Shaking your head to clear it, and swallowing, you pushed open the door. 

John was sitting on one of your dining table chairs looking like utter shit, for lack of better description. He was still wearing his filthy clothes, obviously having just come back from deployment, boots and all. His hair was slightly longer than you’d been used to, as was the stubble on his face. 

Perking up at the sound of the door, John lifted his head and turned around, eyes wide with shock. Seeing you, he held up his hands in a pleading gesture, shaking his head. 

“Please, just hear me out, love. I need tae tell ye everythin’. Can ye let me?” Slamming your door shut and kicking off your shoes, you stomped into the kitchen, grumbling to yourself as you dumped your bag and grabbed a bottle of wine. Setting the glass bottle and the food bag down on the opposite end of the table to John, you glowered at him as you cracked open the cap. 

“You look like utter fucking shit.” Taking a long swig directly from the bottle, you found yourself looking at everything but him. 

“Lassie, please. I ken yer hurtin’, but look at me, please.” Pain was evident in his voice when he spoke, and it made you crack. Allowing your eyes to dart over and meet the familiar blue of his own. They were duller, nowhere near as lively as they’d been when you’d been dancing together back in Inverness. Back when times were simpler. 

“Have you been gone this whole time?” Pulling out the food, you began to eat, using it as a distraction as he nodded in reply. Guess that made sense why he hadn’t dropped by the bar yet. But now he was back, and he clearly wasn’t going to give this up easily. 

“I need ye tae listen tae me. It's been eatin’ at me fer weeks. I cannae even think how yer handling it—”

“Don’t act like you care about me.” The viciousness of your tone startled him for a moment, his eyes widening warily for a split second, before they calmed again. Placing his hands on the table in front of him, he continued in his soft tone. 

“I do, doll. It's why I’m here. I need tae set things straight. Even if ye dinnae want me anymore, I have tae come clean. Ye deserve tae know.”

“Well, I’m listening, John and you’re saying a whole lot of nothing!” 

Taking a deep breath, he clasped hands behind his neck as he closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. 

“I was young when I met her, I thought I knew what I wanted. We were together long before I made SAS,” He started, voice soft as he spoke to you, “The early years were good, sure, but then I started going on longer deployments. When I’d come back, we’d fight all the damn time.” 

Cracking his knuckles, John pursed his lips, moving in his chair restlessly as he spoke. Your eyes watched him closely, alternating between eating and drinking to keep your mouth occupied so you weren’t tempted to interrupt. 

“I’m not sayin’ it as an excuse, I swear it, lassie. But I grew tae resent her, how she spoke tae me, how she spoke about my job, but I was raised tae think divorce wasnae an option, so I pushed through.” Resting his elbows on the table, he dropped his head so it could rest on his palms. 

“I came back one night and found her in bed wit someone else, and she told me it wasnae the first time either.” His voice was hollow as he spoke and he covered his mouth as he sucksd in another deep breath. “Tha’ was the first night I was at the bar.” 

The fact that he seemed genuinely heartbroken made your stomach squirm uncomfortably, and you looked away from him, biting your tongue for the moment. 

“I tried tae stay away from ye. I knew it would be more harm than good tae rope ye into my fuckin’ mess of a life. It wouldnae be fair on ye. I tried tae keep my distance…” His voice trailed off helplessly, looking over to you with his palms out. 

“So you’re blaming me because I wanted you?” The words were intentionally cruel, as you were trying to preserve your own heart. John let out a groan as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Love please, it’s nae yer fault. It’s mine. Fuck, it’s all my fuckin’ fault. I made myself available tae ye. That is on me. I wasnae strong enough, I was selfish. I just— ye were right. I wanted tae feel loved. I wanted that feeling again that she gave me when we first met. I wanted tae cherish someone, and them me.” Lifting his head, he stared into your eyes, tears pricking into the corners of them. 

“And that was you, doll. You carved yer way into my bleedin’ heart in a way ye weren’t s’posed tae. It was only supposed tae be temporary. I never meant tae fall in love. And by the time I realised, I was in too deep. And I didnae have the heart tae tell ye.”

This time, it was you who breathed in sharply, heart thumping as you bit the inside of your cheeks, trying to fight your own tears that threatened to spill. 

“You can’t— I can’t—” Words clung to the lining of your throat, unable to make their way into your mouth as you let out a sob. The chair made a grating noise against the flooring as John pushed it back to kneel on the floor. 

“Please, love. Ye can tell me tae leave if you want. Tell me tae leave and never come back and I’d do it. But I need ye tae know that I love you. I have loved you fer so long. Loved ye in a way I didnae even know I could. I was scared of what it meant fer me, fer us.” He shuffled towards you, his hands gently caressing the backs of your calves as he dropped his head to rest against your knee. 

“I’ll do anything, hen. Anything fer ye, I swear. Yer the one that has mah heart, and I’ve suffered every moment being away from ye.” 

“Stop it. John, stop it.” You whispered, trying to push him back, trying to stay strong in the moment as he was on his knees begging and pleading for you to forgive him. 

“I’ve ended it. We’re done. She signed the papers immediately. We’ve been done fer so long, I was just too much of a coward tae face it with her.” Lifting his head up, his teary eyes met your own and you couldn’t help but feel your heart fight against your brain and better judgement to pull him into your arms and hold him tightly. 

“But I dinnae want tae be that same coward wit ye. Ye deserve better. I promise, I’ll give you every part of me. I’ll tell ye everythin’ ye wish tae know. I’ll keep nothing from ye, I swear doll. Ye have mah heart, my soul, I cannae live without ye. Please, love please. I need ye in my life. I love you.”

The grip on your legs tightened as he looked up at you, trying to read your expression as his words raced through your head, making you feel a myriad of emotions all at once. Your throat was dry, from the emotion, blood still pounding in your ears as you stared down at the man kneeling at your feet, his eyes hopeful as they bore into yours. 

Inwardly, you’d missed him, missed everything about the time you’d spent together and how he made you feel. He’d meant everything to you. But on the other side of the same coin, who’s to say he wouldn’t fall out of love with you, as he’d done with his former wife and leave you when he’d fallen out of love. 

Swallowing thickly, you cleared your throat, and his eyes widened, looking up at you expectantly as you gave him the answer you felt was right. 

For the Captain MacTavish lovers:

@soapsgf @brewed-pangolin @glitterypirateduck @deadbranch @crashtestbunny

[hyuny-bunny]

groupie love | Y.J. ft hyun

genre: established relationship, rockstar bf x groupie gf, smut, a touch of fluff, a sprinkle of angst

part II

MNDI (+18) CW: oral, unprotected p in v, afab reader, use of she/her/hers/girlfriend, pet names, degradation (slut, whore) , depraved possessive & slightly mean innie, hyunjin is a flirt, vouyerism, riding, squirting, fingering, oral (m receiving), mouth fucking w fingers.

a/n: if i miss any warnings let me know! also would love to turn this into a series. this was also one of the songs that got me through writing this, the other song was own my mind another recommended listen.

summary: your bf innie always had girls throwing themselves at him, just wanting a chance to say they slept with a rockstar.

He was strikingly beautiful, both on and off-stage. It couldn't be helped that every where you went people gawked. The stares were never just towards him though but you always had a hard time believing it. You two made a power couple, something ripped straight out of a book. People would look at you two like you were a dream couple you only ever saw photos of on pinterest.

He was tall, handsome, had a cold look but only had warm eyes for you. Most would assume you were just some silly side piece, but he'd fly off the handle if anyone ever so much as implied you were anything less then his muse, his love. How could anyone believe he was so committed and dedicated to you when girls threw themselves at him every night after his shows? All of them wanting a chance to check off the "i-slept-with-a-rockstar" box.

You were a goddess. Everything you touched turned to gold, including him. You were there on the side stage or balcony every show, wearing whatever trendy vintage clothes you'd find the weekends before. A rockstar girlfriend has to have a brand to live up to right? Your wardrobe littered with sparkle, lace, leather, and animal prints. Tonight was no different, knee high boots with a lace slip dress paired with his leather jacket.

The same leather jacket that's just a few nights before, a girl tried to sneak off his chair to wear while you disappeared for a moment. Shooting a glare that would make you sink back into your own skin.

His band hadn't been together for very long but they gained a lot of attention in a short span. Jisung, their lead singer, had an insane vocal range and writing ability like no other. Their drummer, Chan, was a wet dream to watch. Let's just say he was great with his hands. Their bass player really sold it though, Hyunjin, had a dark mystique to him. One couldn't quite put their finger on his energy, he was both serious and nonchallant about his talent, on top of being so strikingly beautiful. Then there was your boyfriend, lead guitarist, recognized for his sharp eyes and sharper guitar skills.

The show closed out and you made your way towards the green room, keeping a watchful on the girls lingering around the stage. Once you nodded towards their manager Minho, you slid back to find a sweaty bunch. Jeongin's head was thrown back against the couch, eyes shut, chest heaving and adam's apple bobbing. You couldn't help but notice how chiseled his muscles looked in this tank top or how his rings made his hands look extra big and the veins in his arms stood out even more-

"Stop eye fucking him and just fuck him," Hyunjin was leaned over your shoulder whispering in your ear. Jeongin still sat breathing with his eyes shut "I'm sure one of those groupie sluts out there is more then wet and willing, if you're not."

"Over my dead fucking body" You said so condescendingly sweet with a smile looking Hyunjin in the eyes.

You walked over to him, sliding the jacket off and next to him. The thud of the jacket had him turning his head and ever so slightly opening his eyes to find the source. He was happy to see you sat so perched next to him with a grin on your face, a pretty berry tint to your lips.

"Hi, enjoy the show?" He sighed lifting his head to look you fully up and down.

"Hi. Of course I did, you were amazing as always." You caressed his face while he leaned forward to kiss your lips. Holding your head in hand and the other laid on top of your thigh ever so slight rubbing the skin just underneath the hem of the dress. Another peck before he leans back to stare at you in all your beauty.

"Drink?" You ask pushing back a few hairs from his face. He hums at your touch and question.

"The usual, please." He grabs your hand kissing the palm with the end of his sentence. "I'll shower up right now while you get the drinks, i'll be quick kay?" He kisses you once more before jumping off the couch to stroll towards the bathroom that Jisung is walking out of.

"No groupie for you, Sung?" You ask while he try's to pack his bag up for the tour bus. He was shy for a lead singer. He wasn't one for one night stands unless he felt a real connection.

"Not tonight, I prefer my own company. I have another song Chan & Jeongin wanted me to go over tonight, need a clear head to do that so I'm calling it in after my drink." He was so passionate about his songs, a bit of a perfectionist.

"Someone say drinks?" Hyunjin is standing in the middle of green room now in just jeans with no shirt and a towel drying his long dark hair. He's got roses adoring the side of his body leading from his back trailing to the front his lower body near the v line.

"When did you get those?" You ask genuinely curious as you'd never seen those before. He's got a cock grin on his face. He strolls over to you standing right in front of, his crotch almost in your face. You lean back to put some distance.

"Last month. My friend, Felix, works at a tattoo parlor. I sketched it out myself, all he had to do was put the ink to skin," He lifts his arm twisting the way it travels across his body. "Wanna see where it leads to?"

He grabs your hand letting it trail from the top of his ribs moving it down to the top of his waistband, you pull your hand back, snapping out of your daze. He really was something carved by gods.

"That'll do." You clear your throat "Thanks for the tour though, let's get those drinks Ji." You stand up brushing up against Hyunjin. That cocky grin still plastered on his face.

"Will you ever give me a chance?"

"Keep dreaming."

Jisung and you order drinks at the bar, the same groupies are lingering. They get jumpy and try to rush up to Ji once you reach the bar. Minho is already blocking their chance to step between you both. You mouth a thanks to him while Ji starts talking about the next show. Hyunjin comes out of the back room emerging with a tank top now. The groupies once again flock to him seeing he's alone, all barking to trying to buy his drink.

As you're about to turn to walk back to the green room with drinks hand there's a set of arms caging you at the bar. It's not Jeongin though.

"So you cope a feel of my tattoos, run off to the bar and leave me to hyenas?" Hyun talks into your ear.

While this type of behavior would be crossing a line for most, Hyunjin, had always been like this. Even before you got with Jeongin. He had a big crush on you before and you've never given him a reason to move on, even with a boyfriend who'd probably break his hand at a given chance. He has confessed his love to you on several occasions both drunk and sober. It doesn't bother Jeongin too much, it did more in the beginning but he's come to understand, Hyunjin will always be head over heels for you. You were Hyunjin's besfriend first, it's how you two met, you were always there at his band practices. Whether it was bringing lunch, offering feedback, or passing out flyers with them for upcoming shows. Hyunjin would gush over you but never made a move, at least one that actually indicated he was genuinely interested and not being a cock fuck. He was always back and forth with people who just wanted to use him. It wasn't until Jeongin had swooped in one day, he realized it was too late for him. So he'd continue with his usual flirty banter, waiting for another chance.

"Those so called hyenas are your people, Hyun. They're just looking for a cute fuck." You beam at him with a coy smile. You slide under his arm, grabbing the drinks to head back to the green room. He made your head spin sometimes, his flirty advances always made you feel flattered but you only had eyes for Innie. When you see the entrance that leads to the green room, Innie is standing there watching you. It seems as though he's just watched everything play out, his normally soft eyes for you are narrowed on Hyunjin's silhouette.

Hyunjin must've felt the daggers the younger was throwing his way because he turned around slightly shocked to see mean demeanor that paints his face and posture. There's a girl trying her earnest best to get Jeongin to look at her but he's focused on the way you walk up to him with your drinks in hand. He smirks at the way the other three girls watch you cheerily walk up to him, he loves the way they turn green with envy. They want to be you but they will never be you or ever come close to you. He takes the drink you extend to him and wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you to him.

"Sorry not interested." He mutters to the girl who still hadn't picked up the hint.

He walks you back to green room, you situate yourself on the couch watching him checking the hallways before closing the door. You take a few big swigs, slightly scrunching your nose at the cheap liquor used in your drink. It's only to brings your buzz sooner. Jeongin stands beside you where you sit on the couch, he throws back the whole drink. He pets the top your head with one hand while he consumes the entire drink, setting the cup down he sits next to you.

He smells heavenly, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lull you into a sweet daze. He's wearing another tank top with a loose pair of black straight leg sweats. His rings still on, accenting his pretty long fingers. He holds your hand in one hand and caresses you face with the other, his eyes scanning all over your face searching for something.

"I hate the way he paws at you." Jeongin's eyes darken with the way you look at him.

"You know I'm all yours baby," you say softly bringing his hand to your lips to kiss the finger tips.

"Hmmm... I don't know how much i believe that... Maybe you're just another groupie slut for us... for me... and he just wants a taste now..." He says this while grabbing a fist full of hair at the back of your head, using his other hand to rub up and down your thigh just under your dress. His words send shivers down your spine and makes you grow wetter with every touch.

"No I'm not like those girls out there. I'm only yours baby." You gasp at while he tightens his grip in your hair. "I'll show you, please. Innie, please you know I'm only yours."

"Show me" He's pulling you against him, his mouth latching on to yours. He's pulling you straddle his lap, gripping your hips while his mouth explores your own. He's pulling your dress up all the way to have your panties flush against his hardening cock. You can feel how hard he is and the way your panties drip you wouldn't be surprised to find a wet mark in place of where you are now.

He's slipping his hand under the waist band of your panties over your thighs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, lost in the feeling of his fervent kisses. He pulls back to you pull you off for a moment.

He's standing in front of you now undoing the drawstring of his pants. He pulls the sweats down just enough to free his cock, letting it slap against his stomach. A pumps a few strokes while you adjust to situate yourself on the edge of the couch to take him in your mouth. His fingers web in your hair as your eager mouth opens wide for him, he taps the tip just to your lips before letting you start your ministrations on him. Your hand gripping his thighs for stability, he gives only a moment to adjust to his cock in your mouth before he's moving your head for you. You gag on him as he shoves his way down your throat, your nose almost touching his abs. He pulls out the way to let breathe before stick himself back in, he's letting filthy moans out, sloppy wet gagging moans from you and your nails digging into thighs.

He pulls off your mouth just before he's about to cum, enjoying the sight of your eyeliner and mascara running on your cheeks. He taps your cheek with his hand, gesturing you to open. He's shoving fingers in your mouth without warning, be gives you a break this time, allowing you to coat in your own spit at your own pace.

"So pretty suck me off.. such a good girl suck my fingers, should let Hyunjin see what a whore you are for me." His words have you clenching your thighs together yearning for some friction.

"You want him to see you like this huh? Want him to see what a cock hungry slut you are for me? Or maybe you want his cock too?" He coo's at you while thrusting his fingers on your tongue.

He pulls his fingers out lifting your dress to shove his hands into your panties.

"So wet baby and i've barely touched you. Is this all for me? Hmm? Or is this for him too?" He's circling your clit with the fingers covered in your spit. "Such a needy slut. Gotta show you who this pussy belongs to."

He pulls the strap of your dress down with your bra latching a mouth to your tit as his fingers thrust into you. You yelp out at the pleasure and shock. He's brushing against the g spot and attacking your neck in small bites. The building orgasm is about to tip you over.

"Jeongin please... please fuck me please need your cock in me..." You whimper out and let out another whine when removes mouth and fingers. He pulls your boots off for you while you pull your dress over your head. Discarding the rest of your clothing till your down to nothing. He pulls you up off the couch sitting back down first and patting his lap.

"Ride me then. Show me how badly you need me." Without hesitation, your lifting your self onto his lap, lining his cock with your entrance. Once you're fully sat on him you both let out a moan. He lands a slap on your ass, a hard one, signaling to move. You lift off your thighs begin to rock your self against him, his hands are covering each cheek helping you with your movement but not with out a smack every second or so. It's not long before you're shaking with pleasure. You're begging him to help you.

"Don't worry baby, I got you. Just hold onto me." He lifts your hips for you and starts thrusting up into you. You yell again at the angle he hits that spongey spot inside you. Your lost in the euphoria of his thrusts, head spinning with every groan he lets out, how tightly your cunt sucks him in, and the sound of skin bouncing off the walls of the room. You almost don't notice that Hyunjin is standing in the door way, with hand cupping his crotch. His eyes are moving all across your body, taking in the scenery, every bounce, every whimper, the nail marks that cover Jeongin's shoulders from the way you clung to him.

Hyunjin's eyes don't have a chance to meet yours as your head slumps into the crock of Jeongin's neck. Innie picks up speed on his thrusts pulling you impossibly close to his chest, lifting you up just enough to hammer his cock into you. Your moans turn to cry's and screams, finally releasing all over Jeongin's lap. He's never felt more proud to make you squirt especially with Hyunjin as your witness.

You feel his cum dripping out of you, too tired to care from the orgasm. Jeongin is pushing the hair out of your face, leaving a sweet kiss on your temple whispering sweet nothings of 'good girl' 'so good for me baby'. Hyunjin ever so slight snakes out of the room into the hallway breathing heavily, processing what he just saw and how stiff his pants feel. Jeongin is quick to lift you with him to the shower for a quick rinse knowing he'll be running a nice hot bath for once you get back to the hotel.

[heartfullofleeches]

What would happen if fast food reader tried to quit?

"I quit!"

Fourty minutes in - that's a new record. You're in the middle of a transition with a customer when the newest in a line of new hires comes storming from the back, apron and badge on hand.

"In the single hour I've worked here I've been yelled at till my ears bled, pelted with plastic balls, saw my reflection drown itself in the toilets, and had my wallet and keys stolen."

"I'd say you had an okay start...." You pause for a moment, centered on the task at hand. ".....So will that be cash or card?"

Your coworker stares at you like you've grown antlers which probably wouldn't be the weirdest thing they've seen, but still up there in rankings.

"You're staying?!"

"I can't quit."

Pity flashes briefly in their eyes. "Being jobless is better than whatever this is, but I'm sure there's something else out there."

"You don't understand. I literally can't quit."

Your ex-coworker scoffs. "I know the job market is pretty rough these days, but come on..."

Sighing heavily, you carefully remove your apron- folding and setting at atop the counter along with your hat and badge. Glancing apologetically at the customer, you mutter.

"I quit."

Really, it only took the first syllable for what happened next, but it felt weird not to finish the sentence.

The entrace doors swing to a loud shut. Music playing over the speakers descends into static. Caution tape peals and tears from the walls as management's door pries it from position. Darkness oozes from the cracks as a body presses against the frame. A hand reaches out - pointing behind you.

"So!"

Your ex-coworker and the customer scream. You look over your shoulder at your manager's grinning face as they grip your shoulders.

"Please don't touch me."

Your manager laughs. "Oh, you and your silly jokes. So, I hear someone isn't having the best time. Your little friend is free to go, but you are a valued member of our team, Y/n. Anything we can do to make you stay?"

"No."

Your manager hands their head in sadness, immediately perking back up as they remove their touch from your shoulders. "I see..... Well! We'll all miss you dearly, but we respect your decision. Allow us to give you a portion of your severance in hand as thanks for your service."

"Please don't."

"Lambchop!"

The lights flicker as the freezer door slams into the adjacent wall. They continue to flicker with every heavy click of hooves on titled floors. The hulking figure ducks beneath menu signs, narrowly missing its curving horns getting stuck as it rises to full high. The reds of it beady eyes cast you in eerie glow as it stares - pupils shrunk as it turns. It seems to blink away tears as it snorts.

In a flash, the store mascot picks your ex-coworker by the throat and slams them to down on the counter. It reaches for its belt, sorting the sharpest cleaver of its artillery and sporting it against its prey's neck. Your coworker shrieks and flails, ceasing all movement as warm blood runs down their neck. As your eyes meet, you remain perfectly calm - brows raised in a sort of "I told you so look".

They pathetically beat at the goat demon's arm. "What the fuck.... what the fuck?!"

Your manager clicks their tongue. "I do apologize, but it's in their contract. Money is important, but we value something more here. As payment for self-termination from our team, Y/n here is to receive the beating hearts of everyone in the building in loo of breaking our own unless... they've changed their mind."

You shrug. "Long as you're still cool with my taking cash from the registers."

"Wonderful! Lambchop, could you please let the spoiled meat go? I'm afraid they won't be any good trying to posion our dear Y/n like that and I doubt they'll even make it out of the parking lot."

Your coworker scrambles for the door as soon as they're freed. Their blood, which you refuse to clean, paints the front door seconds later. Your manager sighs.

"Now that that's out of the way, please see to comforting Lambchop. You know how they get when you threaten to leave."

You look over at the mascot would bleats softly as they knock their head gently against the side of yours. You pet their horns as you throw your hat back on.

"Come on, Choppy. You can feed me fries in the breakroom."

Lambchop throws you over their shoulder and heads for the back as your manager takes their leave as well - leaving the customer alone in the main lobby.

"They... never gave back my card."

[beegomess]

Meeting you after the breaking up || Slytherin boys

Summary: Your relationship has come to an end, something that put you deeply down, avoiding everything and everyone as long as you could just to overcome your ex-boyfriend as soon as possible. Time has passed and you really seem to have overcome everything, he, however, believes he has done a great stupidity. Warnings: Just a little sad.

Requests are open!

Blaise Zabini

Everything seemed different now, as if the weight of the pain had finally decreased. When you and Blaise broke up, it seemed that full happiness would never be possible again. After all, his relationship had been the foundation of everything, the center of his life. But time, always relentless and mysterious, brought with it subtle changes, and the wound that once seemed unbearable was now just a scar that you had learned to carry with dignity.

Although your feelings for Blaise have not disappeared, nor have it turned into a grudge, that desperate need for him was no longer part of who you were. The beginning of the breakup was cruel, with the pain throbbing with every memory and the longing seeming unbearable. But, little by little, you learned to navigate through these emotions, until, suddenly, you felt... well.

In the month before the summer holidays, you skillfully avoided each other, almost as if you both knew that the simple act of seeing each other could reopen wounds still in healing. His gaze never found yours, and you kept your distance, building your new world without it.

During the holidays, you rediscovered yourself. He went out with friends, laughed at silly things and realized that life was taking its course. Maybe Blaise was right in the end. Maybe you weren't really made for each other as you imagined. And now, back at Hogwarts, you were there, sure of yourself, without worrying about whether he would notice your presence or not. That kind of thing didn't affect you anymore.

But Blaise couldn't say the same. Seeing you so serene and radiant, without a shadow of sadness, brought you conflicting feelings. Part of him rejoiced to see her move forward, but another part, darker, carried a growing regret. He began to question whether he had made the right choice.

Draco, sitting next to Blaise in class, noticed his friend's lost look, the attention he clearly did not devote to what was being said. Curious, he followed Blaise's gaze until he found him fixed on you, laughing next to his friend.

- Oh, so she's the one occupying your mind? - Draco commented with a provocative smile, seeing Blaise's expression close. - What is it? Are you already sorry? Just wait until the other boys start approaching her...

Malfoy let out a low laugh, but Blaise felt the blood boil just imagining such a scene. The simple idea of someone else approaching you was unbearable.

- Shut up. - Blaise replied between his teeth, unable to disguise the discomfort it caused him.

Draco Malfoy

He knew he was going to see her that night, he was prepared for that. What he didn't expect was to find her so quiet, completely oblivious to her presence at dinner. The vision of you, so serene, messed with him in a way that he was not prepared to admit.

In recent months, Draco had gone through a whirlwind of emotions and, in a moment of impulse, ended your relationship. For you, it was a shock at the time, an unexpected pain that seemed difficult to heal. However, over time, things began to fit together, and you finally reached a point where, although there was still love for him, you would no longer insist on something he himself did not believe he was able to maintain.

So, on that Christmas night, a date that always had a special place in your heart, you appeared next to your parents, radiant as always, radiating a beauty that made it seem that every detail of what you wore had been made exclusively for you.

Your smile illuminated the room, instantly attracting Draco's ocean eyes to you. He couldn't look away, even while you, unrelated to him, greeted other people around him.

- Aren't you going to talk to her? - Narcisa's soft voice, who always had a special affection for you from the beginning of her relationship with Draco, interrupted her thoughts. She noticed her son's fixation on you and decided to intervene with a slight smile and a question that brought him back to reality.

- Oh, yes, of course. At some point in the party, for sure. - Draco replied, a little clumsy, looking away at the glass of champagne in his hands, trying to hide the discomfort that grew inside him.

- Do you miss her? - The mother, always direct when she wanted something, was not intimidated by asking what she knew that was bothering her son. Draco, however, avoided answering, pretending not to hear the question. He knew the answer very well, but admitting to himself was a battle he was not ready to face that night.

Lorenzo Berkshire

The theater was crowded that night, as always happened in the traditional year-end ballet performances, which marked the beginning of the festivities for the most traditional families. The atmosphere was elegant and sophisticated, with the murmur of the conversations being muffled by the soft chords of the orchestra that began to tune its instruments. Lorenzo Berkshire, sitting next to his parents in the cabin reserved for the family, seemed quiet, but inside, a growing restlessness took over him. He knew you would be there, like every year, and no matter how much he had prepared for the inevitable encounter, nothing seemed to relieve the tension he felt.

Months earlier, Lorenzo had ended your relationship. It was a difficult decision, which at the time seemed to be the most rational. But as time passed, the certainty he had began to fall apart, and with every event his family attended, where he knew you would also be, the regret grew.

When the theater lights went out and the curtains opened, Lorenzo finally saw you. You were in a box on the other side of the theater, almost facing him. The distance, even with the twilight that dominated the environment, he noticed every detail: the brightness of the elegant dress you wore, the way your hair was delicately stuck, and the discreet smile that appeared when the music began to fill the environment. He could barely concentrate on the presentation, his eyes constantly deflecting to you, who seemed so close and, at the same time, so inaccessible.

― Will it continue like this all night, Enzo? ― The soft but authority-laden voice of Charlotte, his younger sister, took him out of the trance. She was sitting next to him, and looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Lorenzo disguised the discomfort, adjusting in the armchair.

― I don't know what you're talking about, Charlotte.

She let out a slight sigh, crossing her arms and casting a penetrating look at her.

― Of course you know. I saw how you were watching her. You haven't taken your eyes off her since the lights went out.

He looked away, focusing for a moment on the ballerina who performed a grand jeté on stage.

― It's not that simple, Charlotte.

Charlotte, always perceptive, leaned slightly towards her, keeping her tone of voice low so as not to disturb the other viewers.

― Maybe it's not simple, but staying here mulling about it doesn't help at all either. You still like her, Lorenzo, it's obvious. And, from what I see, she also looks different... distant, maybe. Maybe she misses you too?

Lorenzo frowned, feeling a twinge of irritation mixed with the weight of guilt. He knew Charlotte was trying to help, but his words only amplified the confusion inside him.

― Charlotte, you don't understand. There are things that can't be solved so easily.

She watched her brother for a moment, noticing the resistance in her eyes.

― I'm not saying it's easy, Lorenzo. But what if you keep waiting and lose the chance to reconcile? What do you have to lose?

His sister's insistence irritated him, and Lorenzo closed his eyes for a second, trying to control the discomfort that consumed him.

― I already said it's not simple. ― His voice came out firmer, almost sharp, while he kept his eyes fixed on the stage. ― It's not just going there and talking to her.

Charlotte raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, clearly realizing that she had pressed too much. She knew that Lorenzo needed time, but she also knew that he was hiding behind his own stubbornness.

Lorenzo didn't say anything else, he just gave a short nod, turning his attention to the presentation, although his mind was far from there. He knew that Charlotte had touched a sensitive point, and it irritated him more than he was willing to admit. As the ballet continued, he continued to watch you from afar, unable to decide whether or not to try to regain what he had lost, even if the simple idea of taking action made him uncomfortable.

Mattheo Riddle

Your relationship with Mattheo has always been a sensitive topic for you. The constant comings and goings gave the impression that everything could be just a bad phase, something that would eventually be solved. However, there came a time when you decided it was time to put an end to everything. When Mattheo announced that he wanted to finish, you made it clear that, this time, there would be no turn. He, as always, doubted the seriousness of your words, but this time you were determined.

His family, who never approved the relationship, practically celebrated the breakup. For them, Mattheo has always been a problem, and the prejudice for the fact that he is half-blood and does not have the wealth that his family valued only aggravated this vision. They often tried to push her to "good pedigree" boys, something that always irritated Mattheo deeply. Jealousy has always been a constant among you, but after the end, it seemed that this feeling had become even more difficult to deal with. Mattheo's anger at his family's behavior was only the trigger for something that was already worn out.

Months passed, and over time, you finally realized that the relationship with Mattheo was anything but healthy. It was then that you began to consider giving Lorenzo, the boy your mother loved, a chance. Initially, he thought he would be just one more, but to his surprise, Lorenzo was kind, interesting, someone who easily drew laughter from you, even if, deep down, his heart weighed every time he flirted with him.

It was in one of those moments, while you and Lorenzo enjoyed Saturday at Três Vassouras, that Mattheo saw you again, after so long. He was accompanied by Theodore and other friends, unconcernedly entering the scene, until Theodore, upon seeing you, stopped abruptly.

― Maybe we should go somewhere else... ― The boy suggested, almost in a whisper, turning to Mattheo with a worried expression.

― Why would we go? ― Mattheo replied, frowning when he noticed the tension in his friend's voice. ― What's going on, Theo?

Before Theo could make any excuse, Mattheo ignored his warning and advanced, looking around the bar until his eyes finally found you. There you were, laughing carelessly at something that Lorenzo had said, without noticing Mattheo's presence. The smile on his face, so natural and sincere, cut Mattheo like a knife. The shock and fury mixed inside him, feeding an anger that he could barely contain.

Without saying a word, Mattheo turned around, quickly leaving the Three Brooms. His friends followed him, all in silence, while the fury pulsed inside him, ready to explode at any moment. Every step away from the bar was a painful reminder of what he had missed - and that, perhaps, he would never have back.

Theodore Nott

His relationship with Theodore Nott has always been intense, but at the same time, marked by a depth that few understood. He had a peculiar way of showing affection, usually through subtle gestures and contained words, but that for you have always meant the world. However, this intensity also brought with it difficulties, especially the fact that Theo has difficulties in expressing his emotions openly. It was this emotional block that, in the end, wore out the relationship.

When you finished, Theo didn't try to stop you. He simply accepted, with that serenity that has always characterized him, as if he were waiting for it. And maybe it was. You felt a squeeze in your heart when you saw that he wouldn't fight for you, but you knew you needed to move on, even if it meant leaving without looking back.

After the end, you struggled to focus on yourself, to distance yourself from the shadow that the relationship with Theo had left. It was difficult, but little by little, you started to rebuild your world, to smile again, to feel pleasure in the little things. And it was during this process that you started going out with Adrian Pucey, a Slytherin boy known for his charm and skill in Quidditch. He wasn't the kind of person you imagined being, but Adrian managed to make you laugh and forget a little about things, something you didn't know you needed until that moment.

You two started to meet more often, and one day, you met Adrian in the Peacock Patio, one of the most beautiful places in Hogwarts, surrounded by old trees and fragrant flowers. The place, with its quiet and cozy atmosphere, was perfect for a casual encounter, and you sat on one of the benches, talking and laughing, while the light breeze shook the leaves around.

Without you noticing, Theo was passing by, coming back from a study session at the library. When he saw you next to Adrian, the world seemed to stop for a moment. Theo stood still, watching the scene with a dark look. Seeing you with someone else, laughing and looking so comfortable, caused a painful tightness in your chest, something he didn't expect to feel so intensely.

Not far from Theo, Draco Malfoy appeared, immediately noticing his friend's discomfort when following him with his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, immediately understanding what was happening.

― Do you want to go for a walk? ― Draco suggested, trying to get Theo out of that uncomfortable situation.

― No, I'm fine. ― Theo replied, his voice low and loaded with conflicting emotions. He knew he should move away, that staying there would only do the worst things, but his feet seemed stuck to the ground.

― Look, it's not easy, I know. But staying here will only get worse, Theo. Come on, we can go to the Astronomy Tower or something. ― Draco insisted, his voice was serious, but with a touch of empathy.

Theo hesitated, his eyes still fixed on you. He knew Draco was right, but there was a part of him that couldn't move, as if he were waiting for a signal, anything that gave him a reason to believe that there was a chance for you to look back. But you were completely involved in the conversation with Adrian, the light and carefree laughter filling the air.

― Right. ― He finally gave in, his voice cold and restrained, forcing his feet to move. With one last look in his direction, he turned around, following Draco away from the courtyard, while trying to push to the bottom of his mind the whirlwind of emotions that was consuming him.

While walking, the silence between them was heavy, but Draco did not press. He knew that Theo needed time to process everything, and deep down, he hoped that his friend would find a way to deal with it without destroying himself inside. For Theo, however, the sight of you smiling with another had opened a wound that he was not sure how to heal.

Tom Riddle

The Hogwarts library was a place you've always loved. During the quiet nights, the bookshelves loaded with old books and the smell of aged parchment brought you a sense of peace and security. It was there, under the soft light of the candles, that you spent much of your time, especially after breaking up with Tom Riddle. Diving into the books was a way to forget what you two had been, or perhaps, to remember without the pain that accompanied it.

The relationship with Tom was an enigma that you were never able to solve completely. He was cold and always kept an emotional distance that left you with the feeling that he was never truly present. Still, there were times when you felt that something deeper could exist behind that impenetrable facade. It was this mystery, this insatiable curiosity, that held you to him for so long. But Tom's coldness ended up becoming unbearable, and when the decision to finish was made, he accepted with a calm that hurt more than any argument could have hurt.

Now, in the loneliness of the library, you followed your nightly routine. He leafed over a book, his thoughts wandering between the words and the memories he tried to leave behind. She was so absorbed that she did not notice the tall and slender figure that positioned herself in the shadows, a few meters away.

Tom Riddle has always been an observer, someone who analyzed everything around him with almost frightening precision. He had been there for longer than you imagined, just watching in silence. The dim light of the candles did not fully reach the place where he was, keeping him hidden, but his eyes shone with an unusual intensity as he watched you.

He hadn't come there by chance. In recent months, Tom had returned his thoughts to you more often than he would like to admit. It wasn't longing, he said to himself, but a persistent curiosity. The breakup meant nothing to him the moment it happened, but now, seeing you go on with your life without hesitation, dedicating yourself to studies as if he had never existed, you messed with something inside him that he could not name.

For some time, Tom stood still, his eyes following his every move. He knew he shouldn't care. This kind of attachment was useless, a weakness that he despised in others. Still, there he was, watching you with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

Finally, he decided to get closer, not to talk, but to feel his presence more closely. Every step he tood was silent, calculated, as if he feared that any noise could break the charm of the moment. When he was close enough to see every detail of his concentrated expression, Tom stopped. There was something about you, a serenity, a silent force that he had not noticed before.

You didn't notice your presence until you felt a slight change in the air, a shiver that ran through your spine. Raising your eyes from the book, you felt like you were being watched. And, for a brief moment, his gaze found his, hidden in the shadows. But in the blink of an eye, Tom had moved, disappearing between the shelves without a trace, like a ghost.

Even without seeing it, you felt the familiarity of that presence, and a discomfort that you thought you had overcome returned to your heart. The mystery that Tom represented was still there, no matter how far away you tried to get away. And that night, as he closed the book and left the library, you knew that he was also trying to understand something that, until then, he believed he was incapable of feeling.

___________________________

masterlist here

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨