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crashandlivewrites · 17 hours

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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

“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

#crash writes #captain mactavish x reader #captain soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish smut #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #call of duty #captain mactavish smut #call of duty smut #09 soap MacTavish

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the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis · 3 days

Note

oops omg in my delirious ranting i forgot to ask you the question i originally meant to send lmao

would love to get your thoughts on Nesta & Cassian's relationship! your thoughts on its dynamics, its current state, its future, etc! any parallels you've found, or anything you find between them that makes you think it doesn't work - anything! i find the dynamic fascinating but i wish there was more than just "haha they drive each other CRAZy they MUST be mates!"

(i haven't read the 5th book but i'm ok if there are spoilers)

okay, if by 5th book you mean A Court of Silver Flames: apologies, i Have To talk about it, because it is the source of most of my Cassian/Nesta thoughts, so there will be spoilers. if you're talking about a different book and not counting the Christmas Special Novella TM as book 4...there's a 5th book??

also, as always, i have written entirely too much. thank you for enabling me on my red-string conspiracy rants.

let's see...this is really interesting, because conceptually i also see so many FASCINATING elements to Nesta and Cassian's relationship, especially thematically and in terms of the ways they mirror each other.

but then reading it within the context of the books themselves just makes it so. incredibly. frustrating.

first of all, what you said about "haha they drive each other CRAZY" is so real--i feel like it was an enemies to lovers story that devolved to centering around very shallow banter and hatefucking that is then still supposed to be seen as something super profound and lifelong for the two of them?

plus the way "mate bonds" are executed within the ACOTAR series frustrates me to no end...plus there's so much misogyny and white feminism and heteronormativity and poor depictions of mental health and abuse baked into the series under this progressive veneer that it for some reason gets...plus getting into the realm of wild speculation, i feel like a) sarah j maas legitimately dislikes Nesta and thinks she deserves the in-universe hate and b) sarah j maas is an only child.

so when i try to analyze Nesta and Cassian's relationship, it's just so difficult for me to separate it from all the rest of that. especially having read A Court of Silver Flames. a book that somehow filled me with more rage than breaking dawn? i did not think that was possible

another note: all of my quotes below are just cited to chapters, because i have an...um...let's call it the Kiera-Knightley-in-the-ocean-in-a-liking-girls-awakening-outfit copy of the ACOTAR series and i'm pretty sure the pages don't line up super well.

anyway, let's dig more into the good/compelling:

1. nesta is very squarely in My Type of female characters, and it's clearly cassian's type too.

aloof and mean and full of cold rage, wearing femininity like armor, with a spine of steel and a too-sharp tongue and undying loyalty to a very very select few soft characters...i LOVE LOVE LOVE that character premise, every goddamn time. and i love that cassian (in theory. according to what he says. not necessarily what he does.) sees that and loves it and doesn't want her to change. that fire is the reason he loves her, and was even when she was human! he's perfectly willing to dash himself up against it, because he sees a reflection of himself there! like:

"'You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don’t want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.' 'But I still don’t know how to fix myself.' 'There’s nothing broken to be fixed...'" -ACOSF, Chp. 50

!!!!

(now, do cassian's actions actually line up with that? mmm, debatable, but i think that's definitely more authorial blind spots than intent, and i like the theory!)

2. i am not immune to the:

"His voice was rough as he said, 'Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house—your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.' I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch." -ACOMAF, Chp. 57

3. i go absolutely feral every time i think too hard about the thematic lines you can draw between nesta and cassian.

nesta, who has made herself cold and untouchable and absolutely unwilling to yield to anyone, clinging to the symbols of status and perfect upper-class femininity because those were the only weapon she was taught how to wield...and cassian, who is all fire and fury and raw passion, seeing himself as the blade that bathes himself in blood at rhys' command without being able to understand why and just trusting that rhys knows best, defining himself constantly as a base-born bastard who is only good at the fight...it's SO FASCINATING.

they have parallel experiences that in practice were entirely different because of the social circumstances in which they were born!

(also the way both of their mothers and their deaths play into it???? nesta was shaped by her mother's presence and cassian by his mother's absence???? both of them see their mother's death as a defining moment, except nesta responds with retreating further into that cool passive cruelty and cassian massacres an entire village...HELLO????)

4. you know what? shout-out to nesta weaponizing cassian's care for and promise to her to save his life...

and ONLY his life, when he would've willingly and gladly died with his legion!!! and then feeling guilty about it after the fact! (maybe even guiltier than he does!) that's SUCH a fascinating thing to have between two characters.

how do you go forward loving someone when you feel unspeakably guilty about what you did in the name of that love? you saved their life because you love them! you hate yourself for saving their life! you still love them!

okay, that's my quota for complimenting the acotar series this decade:

1. all of the things that i talked about above are. um. not central parts of the entire 700+ page book that is allegedly cassian and nesta's grand love story?

like--don't get me wrong, they're there. i'm not pulling those elements out of nowhere. but the central focus of that book seems to be...i honestly don't even know. it's like, part nesta's "recovery" (i will not rant here about that), larger part Nesta's Inspiring Fitness Journey TM, part The Thinnest Villain Plotline Of All Time (guys that mortal queen was NEVER going to be able to get into the prison that rhys has to give you permission to get into. she would've just fucking died. it would've been fine. also the mortal queens' motivations are just so shallow and incoherent to me), for some reason part Feyre's Pregnancy Journey TM, and large, large part...

nesta and cassian bantering in increasingly bland ways and having tragically the closest sjm gets to kink because they're being a little bit mean and commanding with each other, but nowhere near enough to actually be interesting to me? and obviously i don't have anything against smut in the fairy smut series, but i feel like it takes up way more of this book than actual interesting relationship beats between nesta and cassian, and it's really frustrating!

like here, have a screenshot from my notes app from my first reading of this book, which i feel like summarizes a lot of my feelings related to that and in general about the "romance" she builds for them:

also why does she write about toes so much when she's writing erotic scenes it's not even like a character-specific thing it's in all the books i noticed it and now i can't stop seeing it, any time a female character is horny her toes curl it's such a stupid specific phrase

2. i cannot separate the romance between nesta and cassian from my deep, profound hatred of the premise of ACOSF, the way it depicts recovery and mental illness, and nesta's lack of agency throughout it.

(i will rant about this now! oops.)

first, i am at my funniest and wisest in the notes app:

but seriously! cassian is just so horribly, consistently cruel to nesta throughout this book, specifically around her grief, her physical condition, and her mental health issues, especially around eating.

"His hazel eyes guttered. 'Not eating won’t bring your father back.' 'That has nothing to do with this,' she hissed. 'Nothing.' He braced his forearms on the table. 'We’re going to cut the bullshit. You think I haven’t gone through what you’re dealing with?'" -ACOSF, Chp. 5

"Cassian asked, 'What stair did you make it to?' 'One hundred eleven.' Nesta didn’t rise. 'Pathetic.'" -ACOSF, Chp. 8

"'I knew you didn’t have much muscle,' Cassian observed as Nesta lay belly-down on the ground, having collapsed onto her front after trying to hold a full-body plank, 'but this is absolutely pathetic.'" -ACOSF, Chp. 16

and Nesta clearly internalizes all of this, because these phrases recur in her narration over and over and over.

"She was pathetic for being so weak. Pathetic for now being unable to walk so much as a step without grimacing" -Chp. 13

“'They are when you’re as out of shape as I am.' A pathetic weakling" -Chp. 15

"She punched that thought out of herself, too. That pathetic, selfish thought. Just as all of her was pathetic, and selfish, and hateful." -Chp. 40

(i did leave out the "everyone hates you" conversation, because to be fair to Cassian, that's a moment where he's overwhelmed, and he does later apologize and walk it back and that's a genuine moment of growth for the two of them--which imo is just proof that he could be doing better in all these other situations!)

even the scenes where nesta and cassian are on the mountain, allegedly nesta's turning point, just make me so incredibly sad and frustrated on her behalf.

(even leaving aside the question of whether nesta was right to tell feyre about the pregnancy killing her, or how much it matters that she did it out of anger, or even if everyone is right to be mad at nesta which obviously im on nesta's side because FEYRE DESERVED TO KNOW LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DUDE WHO CARES IF SHE ONLY DID IT 'TO HURT FEYRE' FEYRE ISN'T MAD! HAVE YOU NEVER HAD A SIBLING???? SAYING THINGS TO HURT BECAUSE YOU LOVE THEM IS LITERALLY 99% OF IT!!!! AND ALSO CASSIAN AND LITERALLY EVERY OTHER CHARACTER IN THIS BOOK GET TO SAY HORRIBLE THINGS TO NESTA OUT OF ANGER, RHYSAND LITERALLY THREATENS TO KILL HER FOR TELLING HER SISTER THE TRUTH ABOUT HER OWN PREGNANCY? i hate these quotes.)

(all quotes here come from chapters 47-50, the mountain sequence.)

cassian is saying things "quietly--coldly" with "nothing kind in his face", "nothing warm in it. No challenge or light. Just solid, stonecold warrior", an "icy, amused gleam in Cassian’s eye" as he makes her carry a way-too-heavy pack...and just silence! he doesn't speak to her at all! and she sits there and thinks she deserves it! ("Let him drive her into the ground, let him make her walk and act the servant. It wouldn’t fix anything. Wouldn’t fix her."; "She deserved to be turned into bloody mist by Rhysand. Wished Cassian had not come to save her.")

meanwhile in cassian's head, he's sitting there shocked that she's suicidal, ("Cassian knew that Nesta often hated herself. But he’d never known she hated herself enough to want to … not exist anymore." BOY YOU'RE DUMB AS SHIT), hoping for her to be healed...and still making the explicit choice not to comfort her! ("Instinct bellowed at him to wrap himself around her, to comfort and soothe, but another voice, an ancient and wise voice, whispered to keep going. One more mountain, that voice said. Just one more mountain.")

it just like...makes me so goddamn miserable, and i feel like it undercuts everything in their relationship.

nesta collapses because she wasn't drinking water and cassian rushes over and gives her water and carries her to safety?

cool, the reason she wasn't drinking water in the first place is because he TOLD her no breaks and because, again, she thinks she deserves to be destroyed over the thing he's told her he's angry about! (also he yells at her, of course.)

cassian, over the course of this book, helps guide nesta toward healing and coming into her full power and ability as a warrior, who can then empower other women to do the same?

sure, but he does it by bullying her, assuming he knows best when he has no idea what she's actually going through and won't bother to ask, and being cruel and absent allegedly because she needs to "save herself."

and, of course, all of this is in the circumstances rhys and feyre have created where the only alternative nesta has to being locked in a house with cassian and going along with whatever he asks of her is literal fucking exile with the possibility of death. ("So, yes: Nesta might technically be able to return to the human lands, but she would find no companionship there, no warm welcome or town that would accept her. Wherever she was able to find a place to live, she would be essentially housebound, confined to the grounds of her home for fear of human prejudices." -Chp. 2)

and look. there are a lot of caveats that can be made, (and have been by the acotar fandom), and some that i can even sort of get behind.

the one i find most compelling: nesta is definitely shutting cassian out, hard, and intentionally doing it in ways that she knows will hurt him so that her self-isolation will be most effective. she isn't really in a place, especially at the start of the book, where she wants to get better, and she is willing to be mean in the process of accomplishing that. and i do see the appeal of cassian being willing to be "mean" back! that said...i don't know, the tone of it still doesn't personally land super well with me.

and yes, it is 100% more interesting and better fiction when characters in a book respond imperfectly to mental health issues. not every character should talk like a therapist, or like they've been to therapy! it's more fun when cassian is messy and responds imperfectly and gets mad! he's entitled to feel whatever frustrations he does!

but sarah j maas so obviously doesn't think that's what's going on here. what cassian does "works," in the fiction. in the story, he turns nesta's life around, to the point where she starts helping other people, and in the triumphant climactic fight of the entire novel exclaims "because my mate taught me well!" as she wins. nesta thinks that he's good and perfect and she doesn't deserve him for...the entire story. she bows to amren and begs forgiveness, when amren is the first person to tell her that she's literally "a pathetic waste of life." like, i think we're supposed to believe that nesta is pathetic and has to choose to be "better" and that's just...your mileage may vary, but i personally hate it.

to address some other semi-common talking points that frustrate me even more...

yes, mental illness does not excuse someone's behavior and you still need to be held accountable, even if your actions come from a place of hurt and mental illness! but...this isn't holding nesta accountable. even leaving aside the question of accountable for what, there is a difference between holding someone accountable and just being cruel, and i can't help but put this firmly in the second category. calling someone "pathetic" doesn't actually help them improve their treatment of others in any way. also, it's not like nesta isn't aware and critical of her impact on other people (arguably too critical, but again, i'm a bit of a nesta defender by way of hating Rhysand with my whole heart), she is in fact deeply aware and unable to change alone because it comes from a place of trauma! (and being surrounded by a bunch of controlling ultra-powerful centuries-old also traumatized politicians who fucking suck.)

and yes, mental health care is not always nice and flowery. sometimes there's nothing you can do, because ultimately people do have to save themselves! sometimes you do have to let someone break down before they will accept help! sometimes, speaking as someone who has been extremely mentally ill for a very long time, you need someone who's going to say "that's pretty fucked up, dude," or that it's a little ridiculous to be scared of how permanent tattoos are when you have the number of self-harm scars that you do, or even jokes about you being terrible and unforgivable when you apologize for something like asking to hang out or interrupting over the phone by accident! but those a) require a degree of trust, consent, existing relationship, and shared experience and b) are not what cassian is doing. tonally, contextually, it is obviously different.

also, you know what? the acotar series sells itself hugely on being a YA series--sort of; the marketing has definitely shifted now, like, I've seen ACOSF in adult sections, but when the first three came out, it was definitely YA-marketed, that's how i found it, and there are a lot of teenagers reading it still--anyway--a YA series that deals seriously with mental health issues, recovery, and abuse.

and if it wants to sell itself on that, it should do better.

i first read this series when i was 15. and i completely missed all of the ways that rhys is manipulative and controlling! i took the author at her word that he was a feminist, and feyre had choice and agency!

ACOSF didn't exist yet, but i really truly am afraid of how 15-year-old me, who was struggling with an eating disorder (among other things), would have internalized parts of this book.

so yeah, in summary: i can't in good conscience enjoy nesta and cassian's relationship when so much of it is these moments of cassian reinforcing nesta's self-hatred, and being just outright cruel to her in her weakest moments, and the narrative justifying it.

(also sorry, one more thing: the way that this makes nesta's physical "training," and getting physically in shape, into a solution for her eating disorder? there are many ex-ballerinas, myself included, who'd like a word about that. physical fitness and over-exercise is actually also a huge piece of disordered eating! okay, sorry, i'm actually done now.)

3. yeesh, that was heavy. let's do something more fun:

listen. first of all. nesta is bi as hell and SO INTO GWYN. LOOK AT THIS.

"Nesta looked at her from under lowered brows again. 'Get out of my sight.' Gwyn grinned, a broad, bright thing that showed most of her teeth and made her eyes sparkle in a way Nesta knew her own never had. 'Oh, you’re good.' Gwyn turned back to the stacks. 'Really good.' She vanished into the gloom. … Quiet settled around her, as if Gwyn had been a summer storm that blew in and evaporated within a moment." -Chp. 9

"Nesta allowed herself to listen--to savor the pure, sweet voice that rose and fell with sinuous ease. Gwyn's hair seemed to glow brighter with her song, skin radiating a beckoning light. Drawing any listener in." -Chp. 13

"The only bit of color and sound came from Gwyn." -Chp. 13

"Nesta closed her eyes, leaning into the music, shutting out one sense in order to luxuriate in the sound of her friend. Something beckoned in Gwyn’s song, in a way the others’ hadn’t. Like Gwyn was calling only to her, her voice full of sunshine and joy and unshakable determination. Nesta had never heard a voice like Gwyn’s..." -Chp. 52

"Gwyn bared her teeth. 'I refuse to leave you here.' ...Nesta said to Gwyn, “It is the only way.” Gwyn screamed, 'IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!' And then she was sobbing. 'I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.' 'You need to go,' Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. 'Now.' 'No,' Gwyn wept. 'No, I won’t. I’ll face it with you.' Something deep in Nesta’s chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure. She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. 'I’ll face it with you,' Gwyn whispered, over and over again. 'Promise me we’ll face it together.' Nesta couldn’t stop her tears then. The chill wind froze them on her cheeks. 'I promise,' she breathed, stroking Gwyn’s matted hair. 'I promise.'" -Chp. 69

NESTA YOU HAVE TO AT LEAST CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY--

and then, @r-biter put me onto the "Cassian is a trans woman" headcanon and i have never looked back. it's mostly from the Mor situation and the "lesbian dating a trans woman before either of them have realized" dynamic, which is just so incredibly fun to me (because i lived it? perhaps). but there's also a good amount of...where does that deep, personal rage about girls not being able to train come from? what could lie underneath seeing your body as only a blade, honing it as a weapon and nothing else, excruciating command and control of it, and still seeing yourself as too rough and too much and a brute to be controlled?

can't i just have cool badass butch as hell six-foot-whatever-absurd-number trans women in fiction?

so yes, my ideal view of the future of nesta and cassian's relationship is that they break up, nesta dates some women, cassian does some introspection and comes out as a woman, and maybe the two of them end up back together, but maybe they don't and they have incredibly funny divorced-friends energy for the rest of time.

4. cassian...loves rhys more than nesta? and i feel like that's a significant problem for their relationship?

this is a far more watsonian analysis than anything else on this list, but i still feel like it's worth saying, because i have. SO MANY thoughts about the "Inner Circle" dynamic, and the character conflicts, and frankly abuse, that happens within the balance of the IC being set up as "family" but also being huge political movers with a very strict hierarchy and Rhysand having ultimate power and say...

which in the case of nesta and cassian, shows up in a lot of ways. sending Nesta to the House of Wind is Rhysand's idea and Cassian is willing to go along with it and take the heat; in the argument they have where he tells her everyone hates her, it's because she calls Rhysand an asshole; Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta when she tells Feyre about her pregnancy and all Cassian can do is get Nesta away, and he sympathizes with Rhys' feelings and reasons for doing it, as well as agreeing with him that Feyre shouldn't have been told; Cassian does vote to tell Nesta that she has Made extra-magical swords in opposition to Rhysand, but he also fully wants Rhys to become High King of Prythian and thinks Nesta's swords should be used toward that purpose, without giving any thought to what Nesta wants in the situation...

it's just honestly hard for me to see a relationship thriving in that situation, where ultimately Cassian will (it seems) always bow to Rhys' authority, and Rhys legitimately fucking hates Nesta. even with their "reconciliation" during the birth scene, i'm...i don't know. skeptical. what happens the next time there's a disagreement? (that High King plotline isn't going anywhere, unfortunately.)

and, to step out of in-universe dynamics for a moment, and into some personal speculation about the Doylist view of these things...i do think a lot of it is because Maas genuinely thinks Nesta was in the wrong, and people were right to resent her before she "redeemed" herself by her big sacrifice for Feyre? which is also deeply frustrating to me and affects my read of the Cassian/Nesta dynamic a lot.

just from events in the book--Nesta bowing to Amren and begging forgiveness; Nesta feeling guilt and shame about interacting with Mor and saying she understands why she is angry with her (when the thing Mor says about Nesta deserving to be in the Hewn City is like. SO fucked...in general, the comparison that is for some reason constantly running between Mor as like, a "good" survivor and Nesta as a bad one...i could write so much analysis about that alone); Nesta sacrificing her power for Feyre and Rhys then hugging her--it's clear that Maas to some extent views this as a redemption journey for Nesta and not just a healing one...

and I'm not convinced that was necessary?

like, a lot of people's problems seem to be her letting Feyre go into the woods, which is like...okay, yes, Feyre was fourteen, but Nesta was seventeen? she was also a child in this situation? and it sucks that she didn't step up, and she was definitely extremely petty in the first book...but so was Elain? and Elain is like, instantly forgiven for it? but Nesta is held to a higher standard? (the "nesta has the soul of an illyrian so i expect better from her" is so??? demeaning to both elain and nesta???) even when Feyre says she understands and forgives her?

ALSO, you know who ACTUALLY had an obligation to protect Feyre and failed? THEIR FUCKING DAD, WHO EVERYONE IS NOW DEIFYING AND JUDGING NESTA FOR NOT VISITING HIS GRAVE, LIKE--

and then there's...Nesta is cruel. she shuts people out. but i don't know, it feels deeply hypocritical to resent her for that when the centuries-old immortals she's surrounded by are regularly eviscerating people and making backhanded deals with each other's abusers (the way Rhys treats Mor is just like. SO wild) and lying to each other for no reason...and it's just the most insane double standard that we're expected to see them as perfect and nesta as irredeemable for being mean.

(a semi-related side note: i have to point out that the solstice book is so fucking funny because feyre's sitting there worrying about nesta drinking too much and every other page in that book is her and her friends drinking themselves to sleep. like, i get it, but also. girl.)

anyways, that was a lot of words about nesta's overarching treatment by the narrative, but to bring it back to her relationship with cassian specifically: i feel like she's never going to be justified out-of-universe, or liked in-universe, unless she just starts going along with what rhys and feyre want her to be and do, and that really sucks as a basis for her relationship with Cassian. and i don't think this is happening in canon as an exploration of the ways being royalty and political leadership and pressure like that fractures relationships, i think we're very very obviously supposed to love rhysand and see his inner circle as an idealized friendship group for feyre...which sucks for nesta!!!

also cassian azriel and rhys all just need to have a threesome at least once i think i think it would solve a lot of their problems like what do you MEAN you multiple times fucked girls in the same room as each other at the same time while you were growing up

5. gender roles speedrun roundup:

i often feel like reading the acotar series leaves me with a spectrum of reactions from "are straight people okay" to "yikes, gender roles," (there are no good options on this spectrum), which just makes me roll my eyes so hard at so many interactions between nesta and cassian.

i could write a lot here, or i could just toss you this quote:

"The first time she’d seen Cassian, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She felt like she’d spent her life surrounded by boys, and then a man—a male, she supposed—had suddenly appeared. Everything about him had radiated that confident, arrogant masculinity. It had been heady and overwhelming, and all she’d wanted, all she’d wanted for so many months, was to touch him, smell him, taste him. Get close to that strength and throw everything she was against it because she knew he’d never break, never falter, never balk." -Chp. 10

like. what. is. what. do straight people really--

also i CANNOT take the use of male and female seriously there HAS to have been a better way to do that i just

to be more serious, there's also something really uncomfortable to me about nesta's view of cassian as the ideal of masculinity, and a fundamentally deeply good person (in opposition to her)...whereas we see so clearly from cassian's pov that he's just so deeply embedded in and surrounded by violence?

(i am never not thinking about the entire village that he slaughtered, and how he doesn't regret it, it took him ten years to "face" it but he doesn't regret it! apologies, i'm about to out myself as fundamentally A Star Wars Guy TM, but like...when anakin skywalker slaughters the entire village of people who murdered and assaulted his mother, it is--at least in theory, god those movies are bad--a very clear step into the dark side and the path that leads to him becoming the ultimate evil fascist imperial figurehead. whereas for cassian it's righteous and a step to him becoming "strong enough" to handle nesta!)

they are both a hopefully-unintentional weird racist exoticization of "tribal people" who mistreat women and get murdered for it written by white people though. god everything about the illyrians makes me feel so weird

the masculinity = violence thing is definitely not limited to cassian, (it's arguably worse with High Lord "get her out of here before i kill her for revealing that i was lying to my wife about her imminent death" Rhysand), so it's clearly an authorial thing seeping in, but it still makes me itch to dig my messy little fingers in and deconstruct it, you know?

so!

i'm sure i could write more, but this is already obscenely long--thank you for enabling me to write all of this! i hope it gave you a decent sense of my thought process...and i would love to hear any and all of your thoughts, i am as always so glad to be your friend in conspiracy-board-string meta and everything else.

#thank you so much for the ask!#acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #NESTA DESERVED BETTER FTW #also. is anyone surprised that this is the stance i took #because i'm sure not

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