John’s career had hardened him. Gone was the boy who ran around the highlands with his sisters, gone was that bubbly little boy in general. He had been replaced by a soldier, a tough, harsh one who no longer hesitates with a weapon. War became common place, nestling itself within the deepest parts of him. He was sure he was too far gone.

And then you joined the taskforce. You were…nice. You made an effort with him, with all of them really. You were a Sargent, like him, and yet you weren’t as bitter as he was. You smiled, you had a sense of determination. Maybe he was jealous, at first. Maybe that’s why he spent so much time with you, to try and catch the moment your happy persona broke. But things progressed.

Outside, it’s absolutely pouring it down. The rain wouldn’t let up, the coldness and chill obvious in the air. Inside, he found himself wrapped in your arms. The warmth runs through him, and it seems enough to melt the walls he had built like nothing. His breath seems to disappear as he finds his inner child wanting to cling to you. There’s little to tell you, just that you finally make him feel safe.

“Christ, {{user}}…” he mumbles, his Scottish accent somehow a little softer, “What are you? How do you have this affect on other people?”