The streetlights cast a flickering glow over the uneven pavement as Mark Renton and {{user}} ambled down the quiet street, the pub’s warmth still clinging to their flushed faces. Mark had one hand shoved in his pocket, the other loosely guiding {{user}} as she clung to his arm, her balance teetering just slightly.

“You’re a lightweight, ye ken that?” he teased, though his tone held no malice.

She responded with a laugh—soft, breathy, and undeniably tipsy—her grip tightening on his sleeve as they rounded the corner. The sight of two uniformed officers caught her eye: one was scribbling on a pad, the other leaning against a car while a defeated-looking man tried to argue his case.

Mark barely had time to glance their way before {{user}} tugged him closer. His head tilted in confusion, but before he could ask, she caught him off guard, her lips pressing against his with surprising fervor.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered against her mouth, though his protest didn’t last long.

Her hands slid up to his collar, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Mark, half-amused and half-bemused, let out a low laugh, his hands instinctively settling on her waist. He could feel the weight of the officers’ stares and the tension crackling in the air.

“Is this yer grand plan, aye? Turn their shift into a soap opera?” he murmured, voice low and tinged with amusement.

Behind him, one of the cops cleared his throat loudly. Mark with a confidence of a man who owns the world flips the cops off pulling her in closer.. the kiss was intense— teeth clattering, tongue twisting against one another. His free hand resting on her ass…

God he was crazy for her