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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Author’s Note: Look I am down BAD for Jack Barton rn and there is only one other fic for Tonkin 😭 I had to take matters into my own hands you see. I haven’t written anything in over a year so take this with a grain of salt please. I hope y’all enjoy!
Obviously this is based on the dramatized tv show, no disrespect to the actual guys.
NO AI WAS USED IN THE WRITING OF THIS
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: stinky-winky cheesy fluff I’m afraid; I tried to get the military details correct but I’m not 100% sure they’re accurate, just go with it; overprotective SAS but it’s cuz they love you; dancing. Usually I write gn!reader but for this I felt f!reader worked best. Other than that I’ve tried my best to keep all the other details about Reader vague.
Summary: It’s wartime and he’s relatively new to the group, but that’s not gonna stop John from having a crush.
Part II
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It’s a cool night at the camp, the kind that blows small breezes gently through one’s hair and feels borderline magical. The smell of the large bonfire wafts in the air, wrapping itself like a blanket around each soldier.
The SAS boys are gathered together; someone’s made a makeshift guitar, another is using an overturned crate as drums. Loud and quiet voices singing in broken harmony, mixing good but mostly bad notes to make the night feel especially warm. Almost feels like home.
In all that, however, the only thing capturing John Eliot Tonkin’s attention, is you. You’re singing, too, to songs you could recite in your sleep and figuring out the words as you go to those unfamiliar to you. You’re smiling; you’re having fun.
And it takes his breath away.
He’s been told many times to not try his luck with you. Not out of possessiveness, but rather out of protection. First from Paddy himself to all the new SAS recruits, and later by Reg…
———————————
“Oi! Tonkin.”
John lifts his head to see Sergeant Seekings marching up to him. Brows furrowed, fists clenched, and slightly red in the face.
From his left, McDiarmid nudges him, “What did you do?”
Putting his spoon back in the bowl in his hands, John shakes his head. “Dunno.”
“Right.” Sensing a situation he really doesn’t want to get mixed up in before breakfast, McDiarmid makes his escape, leaving John to face Seekings alone.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Seekings spits out, pointer finger jabbing in front of John’s face.
John looks down at his bowl and slowly raises his head again, a smirk creeping across his lips, “um, eating.” After a beat he adds, “Sergeant.” It’s just too fun to press the original SAS guys’ buttons.
“You fuckin—” Seekings gets low, forcing John to crane his neck almost painfully back, “no. What is it—yeah?—that you think you’re fucking playing at here?”
The fun’s starting to really wear off now.
John has no clue what the other man is accusing him of, but he’s pretty sure he’s not done anything to garner this kind of reaction.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re on about. Why don’t you just tell me whatever it is you think I’ve done and I ca—”
He’s cut off by Seekings spitting out your name.
John pauses. His mouth stays ajar and his brows pull in, the beginnings of a small panic settling itself deep in his chest. “What? What’s happened to—”
“What game do you think you’re playing with the Doc? Huh? You were warned, boy. The Doc is not some fucking entertainment piece for you to fucking toy with. You don’t mess with her, Tonkin.”
Each word comes out grated and he finally understands.
When you rejoined the SAS a few weeks back and John first laid eyes on you, he swore his heart forgot how to work properly. You were being embraced by the initial SAS men, laughing and cracking jokes only you lot understood. He choked on air, forgetting if oxygen was supposed to go in or out of his lungs. But his eyes never left you; blinking rapidly as they watered, and watched yet as McDiarmid smacked his back and knocked the remaining air out of him. That’s when Paddy turned to the new recruits with eyes daring them to provoke him. He laid out the rules regarding you and how you were not to be treated. Ending his warning with a promise that ranks would not matter.
The new lads quickly came to see just how protective the SAS men were of you. Glaring and threatening. Though, they had eased up recently, finally trusting the newer SAS to be respectful around you.
It’s not that John was stepping out of line, it’s just that he was smitten. He could not stop his eyes from searching for you every moment he was awake. He asked around about you. Tried to start conversations with you. Once or twice he purposely got minor injuries just so you would patch him up. He wanted to see you smile—not just at him, though, that would keep him up for nights, heart beating just a little faster than usual. He wanted to hear your voice: strict and gentle and soft and amused and loud and in every way he could. He desperately wanted to feel your touch. Accidental brushing of your shoulders. Fingers light as they cleaned his small wounds. And that time your face was just a little too close to his neck, close enough that your breath grazed his skin, he had to leave and take a walk immediately.
John Tonkin wanted you.
“I’m not, Seekings.”
The sincerity had knocked the other man slightly off kilter. “What?”
John’s face was now void of any smugness; lips set straight, eyes deadly serious, and voice soft. “I’m not playing or messing around with her. I swear that’s not my intention.”
Seekings stood up straight, confusion etched across his face. “Then what is your intention, Lieutenant?”
John blinks slowly, licking his dry lips and squeezing his hands around the somewhat warm bowl. “I like her, Reg. I like how she laughs with her head thrown back, so free and loud. I like how she’s quick to learn things, and quick to offer a helping hand.” His words pick up pace, “I like her hands, her eyes. I like how she crinkles her nose when she’s confused. I,” he stutters a little, as if his tongue can’t quite keep up with his mind, “I wanna fall asleep next to her. I want to sit besides her after a day where Paddy’s being especially grueling. Reg, I like her a lot.”
All the bravado Seekings brought with him is gone. His shoulders shag and he has absolutely no fucking clue what to do now.
“Okay. All right.” The older man nods his head absentmindedly. “Okay, well. Don’t push her if she isn’t into you back, you understand?”
And before he could continue, John replies with a soft, “I’d never, Sergeant,” and Seekings nods one last time before pivoting and returning to wherever he had come from.
John sat a little stunned himself. He’d never said any of that to anyone before, but he knew he meant every word. Especially about not pushing you. If you decided you didn’t want him, then he’d leave it be. He’s admired you from afar so far, he wouldn’t mind doing so for the rest of his life, as long as it meant he didn’t hurt you.
———————————
He knows he’s staring. God knows he knows he hasn’t been as subtle as he had hoped thus far. He’s caught your eyes numerous times, and each shared glance blazed the fire underneath his skin a little bit hotter. He’s itching now, itching to be impulsive. Maybe he’ll end up with his ass kicked, but he can’t help himself anymore.
Fuck it.
He’s pushing up off of his spot in the sand and pacing to you. You’re facing to the side, away from him, in the middle of a song he can’t hear the words to. You turn back forward just as he reaches you. It takes a small beat of him gathering the rest of his courage before he’s stretching is arm out, offering you his hand. You look from his hand to his face with slight bemusement, one eyebrow scrunched and the other raised.
Before you can question him, he asks, “Would you like to dance?”
Your other eyebrow also shoots up and you mouth falls open in shock. He is bold, you couldn’t deny it.
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to dance, Tonkin.” You’re fighting a smile.
He shrugs one shoulder, “That’s okay. I can teach you.”
His hand stays open and relaxed. He’s not pushing—you know if you say no to him, he’ll accept without a fuss and take the rejection with grace. He’s offering without any conditions, without any urging. And you can’t keep that smile down even if your life depended on it.
“Your toes might regret that, Lieutenant.”
“It’ll be worth it.”
That does it.
You’re reaching for his hand with a laugh, trying your hardest to calm the butterflies in your belly. He really has not been subtle at all since you’ve arrived.
John helps you up and pulls you closer to the fire. He guides your hands to the right positions, holding you in return so softly, so gently, like he’s afraid to hurt you. Afraid to be too much.
“Right, watch what I do. We’ll go slow.” His head turns down to look at your feet and you follow suit.
As he steps side to side and back and forth, you two fade into your own world. His voice, low and deep, and with an ever present smile, washes over you as he teaches you.
It’s a simple dance all in all, and you’re quick to pick up the moves. Once you feel confident enough, you raise your head, beaming from ear to ear. John copies your moments, eyes locking instantly with your own. He could die happy right now, he thinks.
By the third song, you’ve inched closer to each other. His hand going from your waist to the middle of you back, and yours finds purchase right below his nape. Your other hands are linked loosely, with his thumb caressing your knuckles every now and then. The thought that your palm feels comfortable fit against his floats somewhere in the back of your mind where you dare not venture. There is a war going on after all.
When John had first walked up to you, he hadn’t noticed but multiple pairs of eyes had followed him. Seekings had more or less relayed to the others that John wasn’t being a dickhead, but they were still cautious. They knew your stories from before you joined the SAS back in the desert. Knew the cruel looks and vulgar words (and more) you had to put up with. They just don’t want you to go through that again, so they tend to get a little overprotective. It wasn’t anything particularly new to you, though, you’ve been through this when the French had joined. Plus it’s nice to feel so loved and cared for.
The only one who had made a move to intercept John had been Paddy. You two had become quite close, almost like siblings, so he was the most protective over you—it would almost be overbearing if it wasn’t so endearing, honestly. But Fraser stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a, “She’s a grown woman, Paddy.” Paddy had sat back and watched, jaw tense and aching for a fight.
But the fight never came: your smile could have rivaled the fire.
There’s a swell in the singing and the next thing you know the world’s spinning around you. Your feet glide in the sand and as quickly as you had been twirled out, you’re twirled back in, crashing gently against John’s chest. With your hand on his bicep, you toss your head back as a laugh bubbles out of you. You finally understood why people love dancing so much. You haven’t felt this light—light enough to float up into the star-lit sky—in a long, long time.
→ “It still doesn’t quite compute how many people have seen it and how many people love it”: Jenny Walser on Heartstopper Season 3
“Whilst it’s Charlie who’s really struggling with his mental health, Nick is also struggling with knowing how to care for and talk to this person that he absolutely adores and loves. He knows himself he doesn’t have that support from his brother that Charlie does in Tori, which I think is quite a sad element to the story. But it’s quite nice that the relationship between Tori and Nick this season deepens. There are some very lovely moments when they’re both supporting each other and helping each other in how to best support Charlie. He becomes sort of her surrogate brother at some points, and she becomes his surrogate sister. I find that element of what Tori’s able to give to Nick quite lovely because his brother just isn’t emotionally able to be that support for him.”
