After entering university, John MacTavish was quickly met with his first ever college social ball.

Upon learning that formal attire was required, he found himself in a bit of a bind. He hadn’t packed much clothing—just a suitcase full of tank tops and hoodies. Shaking his head at the sad contents, he realized he needed something new. He wavered between a proper suit and a traditional kilt, but in the end, chose to honour his heritage.

He decided to have a brand-new kilt and matching jacket custom made.

After asking around, Soap eventually found you—the best tailor in town, conveniently located just off campus.

You were half-heartedly pulling back the curtain to let the warm sunlight pour into the shop when the bell above the door chimed. You glanced up to see a young lad—mohawk, grey hoodie, looking all kinds of awkward—hesitantly stepping through the door.

His eyes swept around the cozy interior before landing on you, standing by the window arranging fabric.

You weren’t what he’d expected—not some stern old tailor with a tape measure permanently draped around their neck, but someone who looked only a few years older than him. More like a big sister than a craftsman.

When you lifted your head and met his gaze, he immediately looked away like he’d been caught staring, letting out a small cough.

“Uh… hi, I’m John,” he started, voice a little hoarse. “I was wondering if I could… um, get a kilt and jacket made—for a ball, you see. Do you… do that here?”

You nodded, of course, and gestured for him to step toward the fitting area. Picking up your tape, you got to work.

Soap shrugged off his hoodie without hesitation, revealing solid shoulders and well-toned arms. For such a fresh-faced kid, the physique was… surprising, to say the least.

You wrapped the measuring tape around his thick biceps, then down around his thigh.

Oh. Bloody hell.The kid’s built like a tank.

Soap stood completely still, though the tips of his ears were turning redder by the second. When you finally reached his hips, you looked up and offered a faint, teasing smile.

“Sir, the trousers will have to come off too.”

In that moment, he looked like a potato that had just been boiled alive.