Entwined (Scotland x Reader)

When you wake, it’s at first with that familiar surge of panic, a jolt like your heart was considering stopping, eyes flipping open like a doll’s, suddenly and almost mechanically.

You can feel warmth beside you, and you relax marginally, knowing that this afternoon, you have not woken up alone. Tonight, he chose to stay.

Honestly, you can’t even remember how this all began, with Allistor Kirkland, the man with those lascivious looks he only has to give you once to make you squirm, his rough growl of a voice and bright, bright hair and eyes, like he heard about how rare red hair and green eyes are on a man and said, “Fuck it.”

He’s that type of guy, kind of wild, the kind of person who is touted as difficult, unreliable. The sort of person other people warn girls like you away from.

And you’ve gone and fallen for him.

Of course.

Whether he feels the same way, however, is a topic of much controversy.

And you don't want to be that girl, the girl who needs constant reassurance, "No, but do you love me? Do you? Baby, you're telling me the truth, right?" But at the same time, is it so wrong to want to hear the words from time to time?

Sometimes, after sex, you will reach out and place a palm on Allistor's back, fingers spread as you press your hand between his shoulder blades, his skin warm, chest rising and falling with each breath. And somehow you manage to feel both terrified and lucky at the same time. The truth is, you can't really remember life before this man- he's the bane of your existence and the love of your life at once. Yet there is a certain restlessness in Allistor, a wild streak that often boils over when he drinks- you've seen him beat and get beaten bloody after glass after glass of whisky. And you've also been there to drag him home and yell at him while you bandage his swollen knuckles, black and sore with bruises. And, inevitably, he teases you for worrying about him even after arguing bitterly only a short while before. He'll give you that wolf-like smirk and pull you closer, knowing you can't resist his touch, calloused fingers brushing your sides. His mouth tastes like cigars and booze as he presses his lips to your own, and it just figures Allistor would even taste of something addictive. He nuzzles into your neck and licks and bites- it's like someone gave him a blueprint of you, telling him exactly how to drive him insane.

So when you wake up and the indifferent sight of the empty bedside greets you, you feel lonely as the moon. You never get a warning- he comes and he goes, a careless breeze blowing through your house and wreaking havoc before it breezes away just as quickly. And then you find yourself both craving his touch and wanting to kick him for vanishing on you, yet again. Now, you look at him, eyes travelling up and down Allistor's back, listening to those adorable snuffling noises he makes in his sleep, (which he vehemently denies doing). Though he frequently exasperates and confuses you, you can't imagine life without him, yet when you try to express this, your throat seizes up and the words stick inside your throat. If you told him you loved him- that you were in love with him- would he stay with you? Or would the words drive him away? It's a gamble you've never quite had the nerve to take. But it doesn't stop you longing all the same, the feeling so strong in you at times it feels like you'll burn up from the inside out. You find yourself staring at him sometimes, wondering, "What are you thinking, Allistor?" There are times when he seemingly fluctuates between being a rowdy idiot and others, it's like he can read your damn mind.

"Yer doin' it agan," he'll tease, poking your nose and jolting you from your train of thought, green eyes glimmering with mirth, that vivacious sparkle that draws you irresistibly to him, the way people will sit and watch a bonfire for hours, lost to the crackling glow and spiraling dance of stray ashes.

And you'll splutter and get embarrassed and change the subject, but Allistor will sometimes give you this little smirk, like he knows what you're thinking and it endlessly amuses him.

Yet recently, you can feel an edginess to him, a shifting energy that makes you nervous- you've asked him about it before, trying to sound laid back, but he brushes you off with, "Nothin'. Work." before finding some way of distracting you- methods that usually end with a gasping, panting finale, leaving the two of you collapsed into each other, his fingers stroking your spine as your eyes shut. It doesn't last long, the diversion from your unease...yet despite it all, these quiet moments afterwards are cherished close to your chest.

Allistor shifts a bit, turning over, and you quickly draw your hand away, face burning as if you've just been caught shoplifting. It's not often you see him like this- he usually wakes before you, and you've learned that, if Allistor doesn't wake you himself, the scent of cigar smoke is usually a tip-off as to whether he's still in the house, the smell stubbornly clinging to the curtains and upholstery. Seeing him here like this is a strange, rare thing, and it makes you oddly melancholy. You wonder if he considers here a home, or if he just thinks of it as a nest he has tucked away somewhere, you guarding it like a silly fat hen. The thought hurts you more than you realised it would- you almost want to cry, like a child that has a toy wrenched away from them. You look down at your knees, biting your lip as a sudden surge of tears fill your eyes, but you blink hard to stop yourself from letting them brim over.  Stop it, you scold yourself.

And nearly fall off the bed when Allistor suddenly flicks open a forest green eye- just how long has he been awake?

"Somethin' wrong, princess?" Allistor asks, smirking as the old nickname he always uses on you makes you both blush and frown at the same time.

And the way he looks now, with sleep rumpled hair and looking at you with a little tilt of his head, concerned by your lack of reply and suspiciously despondent expression, you feel this warm tightness in your chest and your blush deepens. You open your mouth- you want to finally say the words you keep thinking;

"I love you. I want you to stay. I want us to be together."

But he has that look again, that faraway gaze, a scowl on his face, and it makes you feel strangely far away from him, almost anxious, like you don't know this version of Allistor, which is ridiculous, isn't it?

“What’s wrong?” you ask, gnawing on your lip.

“Nothin’,” he says, with a flick of the wrist, glancing down at you, his expression softening, but the faraway look still remains, like he’s not really looking at you. “Work.”

You snort, displeased. You know when you’re being blown off and you don’t like it, don’t like feeling like you’re superfluous in his grander scheme. Allistor sighs and drags his fingers through his hair, whether the sigh is directed at his current situation or at your obvious indignation is hard to determine. But he reaches forwards anyway and tilts your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.

“What is et?” he asks, in a more authoritative tone than before.

“I…”

The longing, yearning feeling blooms in your chest again, leaving you speechless for a moment. Your mouth has suddenly dried up, like a reservoir vanishing in the heat.

“I want to be with you.”

“I just…I like you being here with me, you know?”

You can’t believe that’s all you managed to get out, and all the effort it took you to say. There is so much more to it than that, but how do you cram so much feeling into something as easily misunderstood as words? You want to punch something in frustration and the odd feeling of helplessness.

A smile curves Allistor’s lips and he presses a kiss to your own, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and uniting with your own, and you sigh in exaltation at the meeting of muscles, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he locks his own around you waist, moans escaping you as you and Allistor kiss feverishly, his hands roaming any of your exposed skin he can reach.

Of course, inevitably, you are interrupted rudely by the beeping from Allistor’s watch, signifying he has to get ready for work. You watch him get dressed, the warmth in your chest fading like a switched off bulb as he does so, thinking about how quiet and small the house will seem without him. Sometimes, when Allistor is gone for more than a couple of days, you take to wondering around the streets aimlessly, anything to escape the unbearable emptiness both in the house and in you. You know that this isn’t exactly an ideal situation, but what can you do? You can’t help how you feel, even as it twists your guts and fills your mind with turbulent thoughts.

And as usual, you can’t quite tell if Allistor knows this (but how can he know?) or he’s just intuitive, but when you follow him to the door, to bid him a would-be casual farewell, he kisses you again, actually lifting you up to him a little as he pulls you to him, giving you a little nip before setting you down, making your lip tingle as if he’d given it a light electric shock.

He’s not much of a one for goodbyes, he tends to get uncomfortable if he lingers too long, but Allistor glances behind him as you watch him walk down the path, giving you a little wave, almost like a salute. And for a moment, he gives you this smile that’s a rare treat from him- it has a tenderness that causes a strange flutter in your chest, like a bird hopefully flapping its wings.

He drives you crazy, and you very much return the favour for him. But even so, a bittersweet smile crosses your face as you watch the red hair and blue shirt shrink from your sight. He has part of your heart, whether he knows it or not. And you hope, you hope, you hope, that somehow, you also, maybe, hold his as well, wild as he is.

Whether you know it or not.