#cpt syverson fic

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 22

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: Past Sexual Harassment, Past Physical Violence, Masturbation (M)

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019

Day 204

Leah filled an entire shopping cart with vegetables, cheese, chips and all the fixings for a massive taco feast. That was, everything except the meat. For that, they stopped at a butcher shop on the way back. Sy hadn’t expected for things to still be so domestic after his conversation with Leah over breakfast but he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Sy was sure he’d misheard Leah when she told the man she needed six flank steaks but, as it turned out, it was no mistake. The small army Leah had referred to was not much of an exaggeration. Apparently, they were expecting up to thirty people which was about half the population of Warhorse.

It was a good thing they had taken Caleb’s car instead of his rental. They wouldn’t have been able to fit the multiple cases of beer, wine, juice and soda in addition to the groceries. It was also simpler to leave anything not perishable in the car rather than hull it in and out of the house.

By lunch time, they had finished their assigned task, the flank steaks had been put in the fridge to marinate and the two of them were back cuddling on the couch after eating a few sandwiches.

To Leah’s surprise, in addition to loving fantasy books, Sy was a bit of a history buff. He found a show about some famous British king and, though Leah had never heard of it, the leading men were pretty to look at so she was willing to give it a shot.

After the first episode, Leah began to feel restless. The show was interesting and, let’s be honest, the money shot twenty minutes in didn’t hurt at all, but she just felt like they should have been doing something… more.

“I guess this wasn’t exactly what you were expecting when you flew out here to see me.”

Sy looked down at Leah over her shoulder but with her back to his chest and her gaze stubbornly fixed forward, he couldn’t read her expression.

“What do you mean?” he asked, tightening the arm he had wrapped around her waist while sliding his other hand over her stomach.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, resting her head against his shoulder. “It feels like in the movies the people who get two weeks of romance before they have to go their separate ways spend them having all these big adventures or fucking like rabbits and we’re just sitting at home watching the X-rated version of British history.”

“To be fair, if we’d had X-rated history in school I might have actually learned something.”

Sy’s attempt to lighten the mood didn’t do much good. Leah still chewed the inside of her cheek like it was an olympic sport.

He pulled Leah up onto his lap, stroking his thumb over the outside of her abused cheek.

“Babygirl, when our two weeks are over, we don’t go our separate ways, we go back to Warhorse.” Sy pressed a kiss to her temple, threading his fingers through her hair. “We don’t need adventures while we’re home because we get enough life-threatening missions while we’re away.” The tip of his nose brushed the shell of her ear as he moved to kiss the side of her neck. “And you don’t need to compare us to a Nicholas Sparks movie as fitting as it might seem.”

Busted. She hadn’t expected for him to know what she was referring to but clearly he was well versed in cheesy military romances.

“It’s a book too,” she grumbled.

“Oh?” Sy smirked against her skin, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “Well if it’s a book then we should be following it step by step. Although that Dear John letter might not have the same effect if you hand it to me on base.”

Leah shook her head, slipping from his grasp and moving to stand away with her arms crossed over her chest. “We won’t physically be apart but we won’t be together either. We can’t be so what are we supposed to do then? Am I supposed to sneak into your room after lights out and sneak back before anybody wakes up? Do we go back to how things were before we left?”

Sy pulled her back to him, flipping Leah onto her back and slotting himself between her legs so she wouldn’t be tempted to run again. Okay, maybe she hadn’t run so much as pulled away but he wasn’t letting it happen again. “I wish I had an answer to that, darlin’.” He moved a stray piece of hair out of her face, gazing down at her in such a way that she already knew what he would say next. And for once, it didn’t scare her. “I just know that I love you and that I’m not ready to let ya go.”

“Yeah?” she asked, in barely a whisper.

“Yeah…” He’d never said those words to a woman before and he was suddenly worried he’d spoken too soon.

Thankfully, the cutest little shy smile pulled at Leah’s lips. “I love you too.”

“Yeah?” he repeated, leading Leah to playfully slap his shoulder.

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

Leah felt more than heard Sy’s appreciative rumble. “Yes ma’am,” he growled before sealing his lips over hers.

Her hands snuck up his shirt, exploring the vast expanse of his back. Pinned under his comforting weight, there was no space left between them but she still tried to pull him closer by wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Ignore that,” Sy mumbled when his erection pressed against her covered core. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m gonna anyway.”

By some twisted coincidence, breathless moans coming from the television pulled their attention away from each other and over to the screen where the King was being generously served by a woman on her knees.

Sy broke away from Leah’s hold, reaching for the remote and switching the show off. As he dropped back onto the couch, he took a deep breath, grateful for the moment of reprieve before he blew his load in his pants. Before they could get back to what they were doing, footsteps coming from the upper floor alerted them to the time.

“Shit, I need to get the car loaded. Caleb’s gonna be fussing with his hair until the last possible second so he won’t think to do it himself.”

“I should uh… I should go shower.”

Not wanting to draw attention to the little situation he would obviously be dealing with while he was in there, Leah simply nodded and moved towards the kitchen.

“Oh!” Sy looked up towards where Leah stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “Wear something warm and pull out some stuff for overnight. I’ll put it in a bag for later.”

Intrigued, the Captain made his way upstairs to get his clothes. As he walked by the half-open bathroom door, he saw Caleb bent over the counter as he styled his hair, wearing only a towel. With a smile on his face, Sy riffled through his duffle, tossing some clothes on the bed and taking his nicest jeans and henley to change into after his shower.

As he stepped under the spray in the small first floor shower, Sy was still at half-mast. As soon as he replayed the moment where Leah told him she loved him, he was back to granite. He put a hand on the wall and wrapped the other around the base of his cock, giving it a squeeze. There was no time to draw things out, he just needed a clear head for the rest of the night.

Leah might have thought he shut off the show to avoid making her uncomfortable but the truth was that he shut it off to stop picturing Leah on her knees for him. He would wrap that hair he loved so much around his fist and use it to move her head over his shaft.

The water rolled down his back as his muscle clenched with every stroke up and down his length. Sy released a shaky breath when his thumb slid over his tip just right. He slowly repeated the motion a few more times, causing his ass to clench as his hips bucked forward of their own accord.

“Shit,” he hissed, his head falling forward.

Closing his eyes, Sy envisioned Leah’s tongue darting out to taste the beads of precum dripping from his slit. Then her lips would wrap around the head and she would sink down the length of his dick, going further and further each time. Her small hand would work the bottom half of his shaft and when she would be done making him nice and wet, she would take her hand away and sink down until he hit the back of her throat.

Before he even realized he was close, Sy was shooting his load onto the shower wall. A shiver ran down his entire body as a choked moan escaped his lips.

“Holy shit.”

Though his chest was still heaving, Sy couldn’t afford to waste any more time. He quickly rinsed the shower wall and used the available bottle of body wash to clean himself and his beard.

Sy stepped out of the bathroom just as a voice sounded from the second floor.

“Leah, come on we gotta go!” Caleb ran down the stairs with his hair perfectly styled but his shirt not yet fully buttoned. “Where the hell did I put my wallet?”

“Your wallet is with your keys on the table. The car is loaded and the electric cooler is plugged in for the cold stuff. We’ll meet you there.”

That made Caleb freeze halfway through putting his shoes on. “The fuck you are.” He marched back towards the kitchen where Leah sat at the table. “Look, I know you weren’t legal yet but we made a deal when you got that death machine and we agreed you’d never drive it after drinking ever no matter how little and especially not at night.”

Sy didn’t appreciate the raised voice and was tempted to intervene but he knew better than to get in between fighting siblings or to fight Leah’s battle for her. Leah, however, didn’t at all seem phased by her brother’s outburst, crossing her arms and waiting for him to finish his rant.

“Do you have any idea how many motorcycle accidents we get in the ER and what kind of damage the riders get? Broken bones, concussions, road rash… that’s the injuries the lucky ones get. The unlucky ones go straight to the morgue.” 

“Are you done?” she asked, standing and walking around the table.

Caleb looked taken aback by his sister’s calm tone. 

“Sy has a rental car which he can use to drive us but I was thinking we could take the long way there with my bike and stay at the cabin tonight.”

“Oh.” Caleb let out a relieved sigh, wiping a hand down his face. He hadn’t automatically assumed she would be staying the night since the cabin only had one bedroom and they normally just made the half hour drive back so they could each sleep in their own beds. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell like that.” He pulled Leah into a hug, muttering an ‘I love you’ into her hair.

If Sy had to venture a guess, he would say that their open affection came from the unexpected loss of their dad. Caleb was obviously terrified something might happen to Leah as well. And who could blame him considering the things he witnessed every day working in a hospital emergency room?

“Do you ride?” Leah asked once she saw Caleb off.

Sy nodded. “I got my bike license before I got my car license.”

“So… What do you think about riding up together?”

With a sigh, he caught Leah by the hips, pulling her closer. She responded by clasping her hands around Sy’s neck.

“Darlin’, I’m willin’ to put my male pride aside for a lot of things ‘cause I know you’re tough as hell and independent to a fault but I draw the line at ridin’ bitch.”

He was expecting some kind of snappy retort at his choice of words but Leah just smirked.

“Who said you’d be the one ridin’ bitch?”

Now that sounded like an amazing idea. Leah’s bike didn’t have anything for a passenger to hold onto so she would be forced to wrap her arms around him if she wanted to stay in her seat.

“Well if you’re offerin’ so nicely.”

After Leah found her spare helmet and set up a GPS on the front of her bike, they packed their change of clothes in a backpack and set off for the evening. It didn’t take long to realize why Leah had suggested the ride. The fall colors were gorgeous along the open road. As a bonus, Leah’s body was pressed flush against his back, her legs framing his and her gloved hands fisted in his old leather jacket.

Sy was almost disappointed when Leah pointed out the dirt path that led off through the trees. 

“Finally,” Caleb said as they walked in. He was halfway through the back door, holding a stack of what looked like four by fours in his arms. “L I need you to cut up the vegetables while me and Lachlan finish setting up the yard. Camden will be here soon with the stereo equipment.”

Out in the yard, Caleb’s friend was raking the leaves, while Caleb began attaching what Sy now knew to be legs to a table top.

“There isn’t much room in here so we take the legs off the tables when we store them. It also makes them easier to bring in and out of the cabin.”

Leah had obviously realized what he was looking at while she began pulling the vegetables out of the grocery bags.

“Why not just use folding tables?” he asked, taking everything over to the sink to be washed.

“Folding tables are expensive for what they are. Plus they’re often really narrow so my dad custom built three different tables that were the same size and could be attached together with brackets. With a power drill, it doesn’t take much longer to set up.”

Leah was almost done chopping the peppers and onions when the next person arrived, letting himself in.

The man gave a general greeting to the guys who’d come back inside to wash their hands before dropping his bags and moving to stand behind Leah. He put both hands over Leah’s ears and turned to Caleb.

“Why is Leah in the kitchen?” he stage whispered.

Caleb laughed, waving off the man’s concern. “Relax, she’s getting the vegetables ready. No cooking involved, only her scary knife skills.”

“Oh, well that’s fine.” He removed his hands and set them on her shoulders instead. “Hey Killer, welcome home.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek before unpacking his supplies.

“Fuck you, I’m not that bad a cook,” she said, shooting a glare at the older man.

“Says the girl who managed to make a salad inedible.”

“You mix up the sugar and the salt one time…” she grumbled under her breath, looking back towards the cutting board.

Sy couldn’t help but smile at the adorable way she was pouting.

“Why does everyone call you Killer?” he asked, both genuinely curious and wanting to draw the attention away from Leah’s apparently lacking culinary skills.

A blush crept up Leah’s cheeks as she expertly sliced onions into long, even strips.

“It’s not everyone, just the guys who were around while I was in my freshman year of high school.”

“That doesn’t answer his question though,” Lachlan pointed out.

When Leah remained silent, Camden took over.

“One day, while me and our friend Niki were studying at his house, he got a call from Leah’s school asking him to come in because they couldn’t reach Caleb. When we get there, the principal calls Niki in and starts telling him how Leah was getting suspended because she attacked another student. The guy starts going on about how they will have to involve social workers if we can’t keep Leah in line and says that she needs a strong hand to keep her emotional outbursts in check. So Niki pulls me and Leah in and asks what caused the altercation. Turns out, the principal’s son had been calling Leah ‘doll’ despite her telling him numerous times to stop.”

“That’s when Niki asked if I was the only one being punished for what happened which was a stupid question seeing as they knew exactly who his son was and they knew for a fact that he could get away with murder.”

Camden hummed in agreement. “I was pre-law at the time so I gave him some speech about sexual harassment being a gateway to rape and that by not addressing the harassment he was condoning it and fostering a hostile study environment. It spooked him enough that he agreed to drop her suspension. Anyway once we left the school Niki made a comment about how Leah had every right to go Chucky on his punk ass. Killer kind of stuck after that.”

Never in a million years would Sy have guessed that Leah’s nickname would come from ‘killer doll’. In a way, it was kind of brilliant that they would use it as a way to praise her for sticking up for herself.

He remembered how Leah had said she’d isolated herself after their dad had died and realized it was probably a result of that asshole principal threatening to involve social services instead of admitting his own son had done something wrong.

“I’d never seen Niki so angry before,” Caleb chimed in. “When I got home from my midterm he looked about ready to hunt the kid down himself.”

“Still would have been better than Gage being the one to do it.”

“Fuck,” Caleb shook his head, clearly in agreement with Lachlan’s comment, “dad would have brought him back just to kill him all over again.”

When the three men stepped out to unload the stereo equipment, Sy slipped in behind Leah, putting his hands on her hips. “Is it all pet names that make you go serial killer or just ‘doll’?”

Leah looked outside, making sure Caleb was still out of earshot before she set the knife down and turned to face Sy.

“I lost my shit that day because he told me that if I wanted guys to notice me I should be a good little doll and only open my mouth when I wanted someone to stick something in it. I didn’t want any of them to worry more than necessary so I never told them.”

“Jesus,” he pulled Leah closer as if wanting to shield her from the memory, “I think that just ruined the word doll for me.”

He rested his forehead against Leah’s, taking a deep breath. 

“That’s okay, I like ‘darling’ better anyway. Or baby girl, that was nice too.”

Chapter 23

#captain syverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill #cpt syverson fic #cpt syverson #cpt syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc #cpt syverson x ofc #cpt syverson fanfic

[dungeonpuppykai]

|| Triumph Of The Beast ||

Description: Captain Syverson learnt that the only way to have her was to ask her hand in marriage. So he did just that. And she was all his now, both to hold and to possess.

Pairing: Soft-Dark!Captain Syverson | Sheikha!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Captain Syverson. This is a mature story with dark undertones so kindly browse at your own discretion. Please note that this piece is only a work of fiction that in no way aims to reinforce or propose any stereotypes to any ethnicity or race. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Syverson, he is lowkey messed up, smut with plot (I am sorry), possessive behavior, his obsession with her chastity, naive!reader, size kink, biting (it's Henry and his canines ffs), boob play, manhandling, power imbalance, arranged marriage, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, m!dom, f!sub, he's a man, misogyny, age gap (reader is 20's, Sy is early 40's fight me), he's lowkey intimidating, slight spanking, allusion to bondage, manipulation, slow burn-ish, maybe more dialogue than necessary, p-in-v penetration, corruption kink, no use of 'Y/n'. 

Note: Her father is not the mean Sheikh from the movie lmfao. Reader doesn't even have to be Iraqi, just Eastern that you can TOTALLY imagine yourself as because it's a frickin' story for God's sake! Ps, This blocked me so hard mid-write I nearly abandoned it lmfao, I need a break! 

.

Captain Syverson had always thought the notion of the first touch buzz to be foolish. To quote him in his own words, the electric touch that people claimed their beloved aroused within them was nothing more than a steaming pile of horseshit. 

Until now. 

As his thick and coarse battle hardened hands cupped the side of the tender face of his dear wife, the Captain's thumb darted out to quickly glide across the perfect arch of her cheekbone before it moved down to the bow of her lips, his body combusting into a thousand flames of raw desire. 

Her skin was so tender he feared it may come off if he pressed on it too hard. The structure of her body that adorned her traditional wedding attire seemed so fragile in this moment next to him and in his big old bed that the thought of ever manhandling a thing as delicate as her terrified him. The contrast of her usually confident and intelligent countenance was striking in quality to the humility with which she now offered her submission to him. 

His suspicions against his body and strength increased by the passing minute; he felt petrified to even breathe too easily near her. The fear that it may damage her in some way haunted him and filled his lungs with dread. It was not that she was the most petite thing that he had ever seen or she held resemblance to an adolescent in terms of size or any of that weird shit, no. 

It was instead the way in which her head bowed in just the perfect way so it indicated respect and submission; not so high that it would seem that she was trying to deny him his station but not so low that it became off-putting. It was an acknowledgement to his power in their dynamic; an agreement of a lifetime. 

The man could swear he was going crazy. 

There was simply no way he was going to make it through the night with his sanity intact. 

It was just the effect she had on him. 

If there was anyone to blame it was her. 

Because even though he wanted to hide this girl so safely in his arms for the rest of his days that not even a harsh breeze would be allowed to touch her, the erratic way in which his boiling blood sizzled its way through his veins, The Captain wanted nothing more than to just turn her around, press her breathtaking face into the mattress and take her over and over until she was swell with his litter. 

Or press his bigger body against hers and take her deep and raw until her mind gave up on consciousness  

Perhaps place her between his own legs and feel her mouth around him until his seed spilled from her nose. 

Maybe make her mount him and slap her ass that he just knew would be perfect over and over to keep her going even when she didn't want to. 

The possibilities were endless from where Syverson was standing. 

And he was determined to try his hand at all of them, and more. 

His eyebrows furrowed just a little when she awkwardly pecked his lips for the fifth time in a straight row and refused to give him more, cringing away when he attempted to deepen the kiss. The girl that giggled and covered her mouth on which her red lipstick had already smudged was a dead leaf echo of the confident and liberal sheikha -prized daughter of the sheikh supreme- that critically watched the foreign Captain everytime he was around with her bright and vigilant brown eyes so full of scrutiny that it made him, a grown man, blush. It wasn't his fault, really. Her eyes had the most attractive gleam of intelligence to them and the black khol that lined them only accentuated their beauty more. 

She had always been so elegant Syverson knew he was a goner the first time his eyes had been granted the pleasure of looking at her. Sat aside her father basking in her confidence, silk scarf draped around her head and body in the most perfect way, a form he could only describe as agreeable always clad in decent clothes, fingers adorning rings with colorful stones and modesty dripping off of every single mannerism of hers. 

How could a man not look twice?

And then not consider looking away utterly blasphemous on account of being unappreciative of such godly beauty?

"I- I do not know how to…" Her accent turned his gears just right. "K- Kiss, Captain" oh. 

Of course. 

Blood rushed to his cock that hadn't throbbed like this in a long time. That was, if it ever had. 

And then his sweet, chaste wife just had to call him Captain.

Fuck. 

He was going to tear her apart. 

And she had no idea.

The obedient daughter, who was never afraid to voice her thoughts and outsmart every man who dared stand against her with inadequate knowledge of the debate at hand, had happily bowed down to her father's wish that she marry the charming and noble Captain -to them a warrior who was not afraid to fight for his country; a man truly admirable- after said Captain had asked for her hand in marriage when he had realized that that was the only way to have her. 

Mind, body, soul… heart. 

Sure, it had taken Syverson and his rather daft attempts at impressing her some quick-witted answers and astute responses by a rather critical her to realize it.

But she was his bride now.

And that was all that mattered. 

"Well, ain't that just dandy?" Syverson realizes just how heavy his breathing really is when his words come out gravelly and almost forced. She is unable to hold his eyes for very long so she stares at his chest instead, a most remarkable coy smile across her lips. The fact that she looks every other man with a taught unaffected sternness but has blushed everytime their eyes have met after the wedding just drives him all the more insane. 

Her dark eyebrows furrow as she lightly tilts her head to the side. He has noticed that she has some trouble understanding his dialect. So he caresses her cheek again, this time in a reassuring manner;

"I know you'll figure it out soon. You're a clever lil' thing, ain'tcha?" She looks up just long enough to nod with a meeting of their eyes. 

"Yes, Captain" god, even her way of speaking has softened.

The knowledge that he was the only man in this whole wide world whom she treated like this made him want to worship her with his love and devotion in every way possible. 

Because The Captain was naturally a very possessive man who did not appreciate ran through goods.  

"Alright now, just trust your husband and sit back like a good lil' bride, alright?" It was taking him all of his focus to not just push her back and have his depraved ways with her all night long.

"Y- Yes, Captain." 

"Atta girl," before he leaned back in and brushed his lips against hers just long enough to whisper, "now hush and don'tcha try to keep them pretty lips shut on me" he felt her going breathless against him when his mouth fit against the slot of her parted one perfectly; as though it had been created just for him. 

She did her best to keep up with as much obedience as her modesty would allow her to muster but the sensation of his mouth against hers, the scratch of his coarse beard across her delicate skin, the wetness of his tongue that took its time swiping against her bottom lip and the way that he didn't have to break the kiss to know that she had extended her had in his direction to take a hold of him to deal with the intensity of it all, the sheer desperation with which he reached out his fingers and clutched hers in an affectionate way that also had a territorial tinge to it was all too much for her to handle.

An unfamiliar thrill that she had been a stranger to until this moment began to patter through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded, her sweat glands soaked, her face burnt and her stomach fluttered. 

"Captain" was all she was allowed to whisper in the two second interval the man allowed them to recover their breathing. 

"Well, I'll be damned, darlin'" Syverson husked through rushed kisses as he hurriedly helped her lay down with her attire still intact, both too desperate to strip her and wanting to take her as she was, for tonight she looked the most stunning he had ever seen her. "You're so dang pretty I can't even fathom stayin' off ya now that you're mine" a hush of cold breath rushed past her flush lips as her thick eyebrows drooped upwards in reaction to him dipping his face in the curve of her neck.

"I am all yours to do with whatever you please, my C- Captain" her soft hands flew to grab at his shirt as the foreign sensation of a man's body against her skin sent an electric bolt down her spine. 

His body was heavy above hers as he groaned at her response and grinded his bulge against her covered sex, peppering kisses all over her skin. "God damn, baby. Your mama sure raised you up right, didn't she?" A loud squeak resonated in the air when the new husband simply could not hold back his passion anymore and bit down on the inviting flesh of her shoulder, letting out a stomach churning moan at her taste and squeezing her sides as the smell of her fragrance oils hit his nose. 

"Fuck, baby" it took him all of his willpower and the promise that he could go back for more only easier to part from her. "I can't–" sitting up to kneel over her, Syverson pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the room. "I can't hold back no more" as he leaned back down and placed one hand beside her head to keep himself from suffocating her, the way she looked up at him with wonder, timidity, need, sent a pang of pain to his cock. "Talk to me, darlin'" he gathered her wrists in one hand before placing them above her head, now reaching for the clothed bump on her chest. "You feelin' anything?" A soundless breath left her and she shuddered in such a way that her boobs trembled feverishly. 

"S- Strange… a- and… oh my God!" She had to shut her eyes and turn her head to the side when he suddenly manhandled one of her breasts out of the deep neckline of her wedding night dress. Her hands rushed to cover her chest by instinct but her husband's authoritative swat was much quicker and stronger. 

Syverson chuckled at the defensive gasp she let out, a crazed darkness floating in his eyes as he pinnned her feverish hands out of his way, coarse palm now feeling up her other breast that was freed as he spoke. "Ain't no God 'round these parts tonight, baby. Just me…" His lips enveloped hers in a right and hungry kiss. "'N you" the way she nervously gulped when he pulled back to stare into her eyes only added to the fire in his body. "Say, baby" he trailed gentle kisses down her chin, along her throat and then down to the fluffy cushions of soft flesh dotted with flush, erect nipples in the middle. A surprised cry jutted out of her mouth and her fingernails tried to claw at his hand that confined them above her when he pressed one wet kiss on each nub. "Ain't this just somethin' else?" 

The girl had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, but her hips moved faster than her brain could catch on and her lips worked before reticence could hinder her communication. "I- It is, Captain. T- Thank you" of course she had felt arousal before. Of course she had been wet before. Some of those times she had a certain handsome American Captain to thank for, not that she would ever willingly admit it. But she had never known how to relieve herself of it other than a cold shower. 

Her mother had warned her that not every feeling that transpires in one in times of idleness should be chased and she had listened.

But this was not solitary boredom, this was not a devilish lure, her mother wasn't here and it was her wedding night with a man she was slowly becoming sure she would be able to call her dear husband one day. 

If her husband was kind enough to be considerate about what made her feel what she could only identify as exciting, she deemed it a stupidity to refuse the treatment. 

"Aw, baby" Syverson's hands only part from her breasts so his mouth can greedily latch onto them, his bearded lips pressing all over them before his hand nearly snatches her skirts out of his way since the layers seem to be never ending. "To think that I ain't even begun with ya and you're already thankin' me like a sweet little lady" now his mouth traveled to her stomach and the only word he had for its appearance was perfect. A shudder set in her shoulders when his beard scratched her navel before his teeth softly nibbled away on her skin. 

"W- Would you like me to get up and t- take my clothes off, dear?" God damn.

He really had hit the fucking jackpot. 

"Hold on now, darlin'" he husked as his fingers caressed her nubs, his hot mouth littering its kisses over her skin further down south. "I wanna take you like this first" the readied rise in the middle of her shoulder blades smoothed out and she settled back into the mattress again wordlessly. "Well now, are you gonna be good and keep them arms up high like a good lil' thing or am I gonna have to tie 'em up?" A drawn out moan sounded from deep within her throat when his chin deliberately brushed against her clothed sex, coarse fingers twirling her nipple between them.

Syverson felt an unconscious clench in the muscles of her thighs upon his words finally registering in her clouded mind. "N- No, I- I'll be good, husband. I promise." 

"Atta girl" he praised in a satisfied tone before letting go of her wrists. 

It was after that that his hands roamed free and wild all over her form. The Captain kissed, sucked, nibbled, pinched, groped, licked and bit all to his desire, the growing moans of his bride only encouraging him further. 

"God damn, if these ain't the sweetest damn legs I've ever seen" Syverson licked away the thread of spit that previously connected his mouth to her now bruised hiphone that he had successfully marked as his territory. The fact that no man had ever seen them and the plan that he made to never let anyone do so either was making his ears hot. His sides were becoming sore with need like he was the virgin. 

"And this– fuck, c'mere" he couldn't hold it back anymore. The Captain had always been an ass man and the fact that he was yet to see his wife's backside was making him mad now. Her yelp morphed into a confused giggle when he bundled her ankles in one of his rough hands, having already rid her of her panties, and easily raised both her legs up until her lower half dangling by his hold on her. "Hmmm, I just knew you had a perfect lil' rump stashed in there" his free hand felt her soft cheeks up before he traced his index finger down her crack, cursing at the way they clenched in defense. Then his depravity got the best of him and he wound his hand back and gave a handful of strong blows to her poor behind that started blushing in an instant. 

"Oh– ouch!" Her next nervous giggle made him raise an eyebrow as he divided an ankle between each hand and parted her legs to look down at her. 

"Think this is funny, do you?" The girl quickly stopped herself nervously. "You know who that's for?" He didn't even mind the giggles, if anything they were rather endearing to him. But the timidity in her eyes was way too sweet for him to pass up. She shook her head no. "Bad little girls who make fun of their fellas, that's who." It was the cock hardening way in which her bottom lip wobbled sensitively that dried his throat. 

A young woman once so strong, all commanding and authorative now exposed in such a submissive manner and completely at his mercy. 

"S- Sorry, dear" he hummed, reaching for the mound between her legs to roughly feel her pussy up in blunt gropes. 

"You can consider those as payback for all them times you thought you could get slick with me in front of my boys just 'cause you were the Sheikh's daughter" her eyes widened and she blushed harder than before. 

"I- I–"

"Yes, you" though Syverson's words were crisp, his kiss on her nether lips was tender and perhaps that was the sole reason why she didn't tear up from being reprimanded when she was so vulnerable and hypersensitive like this. "Thought I'd just forget all that brattin' of yours?" 

She had to hurriedly sit up for that one and reach for his hands affectionately. "Oh, no" the pure care in her eyes made his melting heart feel as though it had risen into the sky. "It was only that you were not my husband back then, dear," she tried to make him understand, aware that there were cultural differences that needed overcoming, "mother said good girls owe it to their husbands to treat every other man with a serious attitude and indifference!" 

She was breaking his fucking heart. 

It was officially official. 

Abel Ford Syverson was in love. 

Soul crushing, earth shattering, sky tearing love. 

With a woman who was not only intelligent and gorgeous way past his league but one that respected herself with an unwavering devotion towards her spouse. 

"Well, I'll be damned!" He exclaimed with faux surprise that she did not catch up on, much to his expectation. "So that's what it was all about?" Of course he knew. 

He just liked her to say it.

It boosted his depraved ego just right. 

She apologetically nodded with sincerity. "I swear, my heart." The translation of the endearment caused for his blood to pump through his ears only harder. 

Syverson gave her a small smile before sighing a little. "Well, you see, darlin', it did still hurt my feelings a tad" her eyebrows furrowed in regret so he added just to rub it in that much more; "got me a bit of pride to keep up, y'know?" 

Now she pouted. "I am sorry, love…" Before a bulb went off in her head and she jumped a little to express her excitement, the action causing her naked boobs to jiggle. "Is there a way I can make it up to you?" There. 

"Why, of course!" Fuck, he sounded more eager than a middle schooler. "You gonna have to show that you can make a good little wife" her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. He continued, aware she was as clueless as a virgin.

Because she was one. 

Syverson loved the thought.

He wished there was a way to preserve it -her- all as it was.  

"Anything you want, my dear" she replied sincerely as she earnestly pressed his hand that she held to her chest. 

The man swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as his eyes flickered down to where their fingers were intertwined; the valley of her perfect breasts. 

"Good girl" his voice came out much deeper than usual. "Go on 'n' take it out, then" the bride's eyebrows raised to express her confusion as she tilted her head to the side. 

His dick whimpered and spilled a thick drop.

"U- Um…"

Syverson was getting impatient. "That means my pants, darlin'." He chuckled to lighten the effect of the edge that his tone had held. "I mean, can't exactly make love to ya with 'em on, now can I?" Something pulled taught in her chest and she went to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment. 

"Oh… yes" she was breathless as she reached for his fly, face angled downwards. 

"Yeah…?" He drew it out on purpose teasingly, dipping his own head earthwards to try and meet her gaze cockily. "Yeah, yeah?" The man kept going unrelentlessly until she had no choice but to respond. 

"Y- Yes…" Her nervous fingers slipped over the button of his pants many times but she managed to free him at last. 

"Go on ahead now, sugar" he coaxed sweetly, tone in stark contrast to his intentions. "Take it out and let them pretty lil' hands get a feel" her legs instinctively tried to close due to the shame she felt but her husband's huge body hindered her attempt to somehow cover herself. "Well?"

Her eyes darted up to him from where her fingers gingerly rested against the waistband of his boxers and Syverson suspected that she was about to decline because of the way her mouth moved to let out some phantom words. But when he raised a questioning eyebrow in response, she seemed as though it had reminded her of her place against him and she quickly dipped her digits inside the undergarment to reach for his thumping cock. 

The first feel of her fingertips connecting with his hard skin was… indescribable. It was as though time ceased, stilling everything else with it and he was enveloped into a cocoon of pure sensation. She was everywhere and inside. Her heat filled him to the brim. Each brush of her delicate skin against his rougher one felt like the stroke of the flesh of an outworldly nymph. Shivers of ecstacy cascaded down his lower back and he was floating already. 

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the unfamiliar feeling, the moan that he let out along a whispered praise pulling her back in the moment and away from her recoil. The bride's mind reminded her of her duty to her husband and she used her other hand to hold his clothes away so she could uncover his impaler. 

"Just like that, darlin'. Just like that" one of his hands went to tangle in her hair. "Go on and rub it for me, baby. You're doin' real good" his free hand reached for her own sex that had secreted its natural moisture in reaction to the sensations she was being subjected to. He groaned at the feeling of her warm pussy and squished his finger through her plump nether lips. "Tell me what you see" her own body was getting feverish by the second, hips and cunt trying to shrink in on themselves due to how violating his sense tingling touch was.

"I- It's…" She raked her mind for an appropriate answer. But it was all too much for her to handle; the pressure to impress her new husband, touching him the way he wanted properly, obeying him, submitting to his handling and then dealing with his intense gaze. "V- Very pretty, husband. Thank you" so she played it the safest she knew. 

And the girl could swear she felt him twitch in her palm at that, a pang of pain rising in her wrist as she awkwardly pumped him in a vertical manner. 

"Pretty, huh?" A cunning grin spread across his handsome features as he slipped one finger deep within her folds and being the retired playboy that he was, the Captain easily found her pure entrance. "'N' what about the size?" He could not help but moan at the feeling of her balmy walls clinging to his finger. "Ever seen anythin' like it?" Her thighs quivered as his thumb glided over her folds. 

"N- No, husband" she answered timidly, afraid to bruise his pride with an inappropriate or unsatisfactory answer that may pose a threat to her chasteness.

"That's right" now he began to speed up his intrusion of her insides. "'Cause you're all mine, ain'tcha?"  She quickly nodded, letting out a whine as her eyebrows furrowed at the ache his twisting of one of her nipples caused. "Now tell me," he leaned forward to reach for one of her nubs with his teeth, "did ya ever think you'd land yourself a fella with a cock this big?" He spoke through a mouthful before sinking down on her tender boobs, the tips of his sharp canines digging into the soft cushions of her flesh. 

"N- No…" The girl was gasping as she struggled to keep up with his leaking and twitching cock. "T- Thank you, dear!" She added for good measure despite how overwhelmed she was becoming. 

"Tell me, baby" the man loved how his naive wife's features scrunched in discomfort but she still sped up her fist that was wrapped around his cock because he prompted her to, hoisting himself further up next to capture her lips against his. "Do you think yourself lucky that you get to have this here cock all to yourself for the rest of your days?" He could not help but fuck into her hand at the sight of the spit string dangling by a corner of her bottom lip as it connected to the wad of spit that she had just released on his cock after being ordered to do so. He felt her cringe at the feeling of her fingers touching her own saliva as she spread it over his cock. But her resolve to obey him did not falter even once regardless of how shy or uneasy she felt.

And that was how Syverson knew he had found himself his perfect little homemaker.

"I- I do, husband" her voice nearly broke. "Thank you so much" the fact that all of this was visibly strange and even uncomfortable to her because she was not familiar with any of this… 

The Captain could swear that alone was enough to finish him off.

She was his sacred lamb; a temple undefiled. 

Nobody's leftovers; whole in every sense for the beast to take. 

What could he say? Colonel Syverson's prized son always won, no matter what. 

There was a brighter way of looking at his promiscuous dating history that was in stark contrast to his wife's nonexistent one; it could easily be considered as his physical sacrifice in order to realize and reach his full potential as a man for his future lady's well being as well as pleasure. 

A lady that he had found at last. 

"Say it" his command was heavy and the rough skin of his finger was like gravel against the buttery tissue of her slick walls. "Say that you're the luckiest lil' bride for landin' yourself the best damn dick you could have ever hoped for" she began to subconsciously move her thumb out of sync with the rest of her digits to swipe it over his tip each time her hand rose to his apex and he couldn't believe just how close he was already. 

The Captain was usually a man of stamina and endurance.

But then again it was impossible for the beast to resist his tempting lamb for very long, wasn't it?

"I- I am the luckiest…" She licked her parched lips needily. "L- Little bride for l- landing myself the best d- dick…" Embarrassment burnt her cheeks but pleasing him was more important a priority to her. "T- That I could've ever hoped for…"

He deeply moaned in satisfaction. "My good girl" a quick peck was given to the tip of her nose. "Now tell me, baby. How ya feelin'?" As if on cue, she clenched around his finger with a moan.  

Fuck, Syverson had never really preferred a clueless woman until now.

He could literally demand whatever he wanted from her and she would believe him out of her naivety. 

His perfect pretzel Princess that he could twist into whatever shape that he pleased. 

Or make her do as he desired, for that matter. 

With no one, not even his wife herself, to question him or his ways.

He loved the thought. 

"... S- Strange… P- Pain… but– hnnn!" Her back arched as she suddenly writhed, nearly going white at the feeling of getting her special spot getting tickled for the first time. It was an ability her husband took a lot of pride in; the  renown that he had held in college for being able to find gspots with his fingers alone. 

"Feels real good too, don't it?" The Captain snickered heavily as he began to rock his hips into her hand, feeling himself nearing the brink. 

"Mmh!" She did her best to respond despite the sensory overload, groaning softly when he forces her band of muscles to expand further by adding another finger to her pussy and repeatedly jabbing her sensitive nerves with their blunt tips, the sound of his skin fucking in and out of her liquids getting louder by the minute. "W- Weird… but…" A drop of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she gasped, eyes widening when her spine jolted at a particular wave of pleasure. "M- More, please." 

In the blink of an eye, Syverson had pushed her on her back before crawling up her body like a predator. Before her body could process his fingers leaving her into an orgasm denial, his eager cock was pushing into her. The pained moan that escaped her as her body twisted under his was muffled by his mouth clamping over hers. The Captain grunted as his cock struggled to push its way inside her virgin entrance despite the preparation that he had done. The girl's bottom lip pulled away from the rest of her mouth due to the way he bit down on it to withstand the overwhelming pleasure that sparked everywhere within him.  

"Your wish is my command, my darlin' sheikha." 

Syverson found himself praying for the first time to any god, deity or entity that may be listening; to freeze time right here in this very moment and never set it free again.

For he could stay like this for eternities and beyond; buried inside his dear wife and protectively enveloped in her loving arms that had never held another like she did him and never would whilst she moaned below him in a pained ecstasy, clenching and nearly knocking out as she experienced her first ever orgasm.

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Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

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[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 3: Drivin’ you crazy...

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: Sy tells his story and you tell yours. And all of that pent up feeling has to go somewhere, right?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Mentions of teenage pregnancy, cheating, deception, divorce, breakups., self-destructive behaviors, fighting, promiscuity, mentally abusive relationships, miscarriage. Army life. Old automobiles, a 20 year high school reunion, a drive-in, red meat and french fries, dirty talk, voice kink, mentions of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), grown ppl getting NASTY in the back of a car, graphic depictions of sex acts.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the third installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my cold dead writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part

—--

You let Sy’s arm go and settled in for the ride once you got to State Route 405. The window was down and you were making waves in the wind, just like you used to do all those years ago. 

Sy looked over at you and felt something that he couldn’t name at that moment, and the feeling intensified when you reached up and pulled your hair out of the chignon, letting it go wild in the wind. 

He didn’t know he made a sound in his throat as he admired how you looked in the moonlight. You looked back over at him, hair whipping around your face; gorgeous.

“What?”

He realized that he was grateful that you agreed to come with him at all. He said something instead of what he was feeling.

“You hungry?”

You looked out to the highway and smiled at the road.

“Looks like you already know the answer to that.”

Sy nodded at you, a slight smile on his lips. He felt the familiar rhythm of you two falling back in sync. Didn’t seem like two decades at all. 

“Just checking.”

After a comfortably silent ten minute ride, you pulled up at Cardin’s Drive-Thru, an institution in your town. You grinned at Sy.

“The world is your oyster, order anything you want.”

He waved his hand toward the menu on his side of the car and you giggled at the familiar phrase. You scooted closer to him on the bench seat. 

“Sorry. I wear glasses now. Didn’t bring them.”

Sy didn’t know why the image of you in glasses got him hard. You glanced at him as you leaned over him to look at the menu to see if it had changed. He took in your breasts as you gave him a view of your cleavage as you leaned over his lap. Lord, give him strength.

“No worries at all, Buttercup.”

His voice was gruff and you felt his breath on your face as you closed your eyes and took a whiff of burgers and fries and Sy.

Sy was practicing all of his restraint as you stayed close to him to look at the menu.

“I want…”

That voice did something to Sy, and he had to shift in his seat. You and that damn cute look of curiosity didn’t help the situation in his pants either. 

“I want… a Smokey Burger and a chocolate shake please!” 

You were as happy as a clam.

“Y’know. I’ve had dreams about Cardin’s burgers, especially since I stopped eating red meat two years ago. But you know what, tonight seems to be all about “Fuck It!” 

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“You just ordered a burger with double patties and bacon.”

“Yep,” You popped the p. “I know.” 

You grinned at him and he shook his head.

“Still living dangerously, I see.”

You raised your chin.

“I’m still living,” you replied.

An understanding passed between you.

“Amen.”

Sy stretched his long arm out of the window to press the button and order, and you were staring at his forearms again. Don’t be such a slut, you thought.

“Yes, we need a Smokey Burger, a chocolate shake, a Huge Burger, no onions, and an extra large Frenchy fries, with a large Dr. Enuf.”

He smirked at you after the order was confirmed.

“It’s a given that you would come for my Frenchy fries.”

Sy gave you a short history about the ownership of the legendary drive-in, and how the new owners were long time residents who vowed to restore its former glory, including the world famous Frenchy fries.

“Well, Cardin’s fries are legendary, but I have to be careful. ‘M not the same size I used to be.”

You smoothed your dress down as much as you could while seated. Sy followed the path of your hands on your body and licked his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look damn good to me.”

Sy arched his eyebrow at you and you laughed nervously.

“I’m dead serious. You look even better than I remember, Buttercup. You were always so pretty.”

You were quiet as you looked into his eyes. He was being sincere.

“Sy, that’s sweet.”

He moved toward you, getting into your space. You couldn’t breathe, and your primal brain was kicking in.

“If you only knew what thoughts I’m thinkin, Buttercup. You wouldn’t call me, “sweet.”

 His eyes ran over your body posessively. 

“You are still the finest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You were locked in, ready to ask him what he was thinking and let him ruin your life all over again. You parted your lips to lick them and speak when you heard the metal of the drive-in tray connect with the open window behind Sy and your focus shifted as Sy moved away.

“Got your food here!”

Sy ran his hand through his short curls. He looked annoyed. At the interruption, his hair, maybe both?

“Haven’t had my hair this long in a while. Growing it out.”

You reached out and arranged an errant curl.

“Looks good on you, Sy.”

He just grinned and then turned to get the food. 

Once the food was in the car and paid for, he asked, “Wanna take this up to the Lookout?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Only so we can tailgate and talk and stretch our legs. And look at the view.”

He smiled that rogueish smile at you. Some things never change, you thought with a smile. You sipped your shake, which was still really too thick to drink, and nodded.

“What the hell. You only live once, right?”

“Ya damn right, Buttercup.”

— 

You sat eating Sy’s Frenchy fries under the star light as country music played and Sy looked at you thoughtfully, Beyonce playing in the background.

Il tuo fedel

Sospira ognor

Cessa, crudel

Tanto rigor

Ooh

Ooh

“You ready?”

You hopped off the liftgate and stood in front of him, prepared to hear his story.

“Let’s go.”

Sy took a deep breath as you waited and listened. 

“Well, the fact is, you told me so.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I was sure that the baby was mine. Then I got mad and that made things worse. And that was the last time you spoke to me.”

“Yeah.”

“And after you broke up with me, rightly so in that situation, I decided to be there for my family. Becca and I got married at the courthouse before the baby came, and I enlisted in order to have an income and health insurance for the baby.”

Your heart clenched.

“I shipped out right after little Jeremiah was born.”

There was a wistful smile on Sy’s face that warmed your heart.

“Becca stayed with her parents while I was on tour, and for two years we were apart. It was hard bein’ away, and Becca and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I was set to make it work for our kid, ya’ know?”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less, Sy.��

He looked at you long and hard.

“Becca broke the news to me when I came back. The baby was Jeremy’s, but he didn’t want to accept responsibility at the time, and she knew I would.”

“What?”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Jeremy Atkins. Your best friend Jeremy?”

“Unhhunh.”

Sy looked as hurt as if it just happened.

“I am so sorry Sy.”

“It was a helluva blow. And I was so angry. At myself for believing the lie, you know? For getting attached to the idea of being a parent.”

Your heart broke for Sy. You moved closer to him.

“I was so self destructive. Got into fights with everyone at every bar within a 50 mile radius. Then, I went right back to Afghanistan, acting as if each one was a suicide mission.”

Sy’s voice lowered.

“Came home in another two years and screwed up the courage to ask Bubbles about you. She told me you were engaged to…”

“Scott. Yeah…”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, but Sy lifted your chin with his fingers, causing you to look him in the eyes.

“And you know what? Thinking that you were happy calmed me down a little. I was proud of you for getting your degree and moving on, so I decided to do the same. Went to college, mostly on line, and then Officer’s Training School, joined Special Forces. Went back to the front and became a leader. Immersed myself in the cause while keeping perspective of my role in it. But a couple of years ago I got injured,”

He saw the look on your face.

“It’s my back. I’m mostly fine. But it allowed me to retire early.”

Sy looked around at the view, the twinkling lights of the town.

“I started a business with a partner, and I volunteered to be the offensive line coach for the high school in my spare time. I even got to coach Jeremiah his senior year. He’s turned out to be a good kid.”

He looked at you, and time seemed to melt away. He was the same Sy you fell in love with 20 years ago. But with so much more wisdom. 

“I live a good life, Buttercup. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

You moved to sit beside him again on the tailgate. You were silent as you tried to think of what to say.

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I forgive you for what I held against you. Sy? D’you forgive me?”

You needed his answer like air.

“Nothing to forgive, Buttercup. Like I said. I can’t complain about my life.”

You looked up at Sy who was looking up at the stars with a wry smile on his face. You looked up, too. He looked back down at your profile.

“What about you? How has your life been?”

You took a deep breath, contemplating that question and the stars. You decided to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.

“I was angry too, Sy. You know that. Angry that all my well laid plans were turned to dust in a moment. When I went to college across the state, I decided to stop caring so much. So, I fucked everyone in sight.”

Sy winced. You chuckled.

“I calmed down in a couple of years and met Scott. He seemed so steady? He was in law school, and his father was a partner in a big firm. He said that I didn’t have to finish my degree; I could just go home with him to New York City, have a couple of babies and be a society wife. Seemed like a good idea, so I did. I left just two semesters shy of having my degree in architecture.” 

You shook your head at your gullibility.

“My mom was elated, thinking I’d hit the jackpot.”

You got up again and started pacing, hands wrapped around yourself as you thought back to that time in your life.

“It was not good. Two miscarriages, 3 mistresses, and 8 years later, I finally found the courage to leave with Carla when she came to visit. I vowed never to go back to that headspace again.”

Sy stood up then, fists closed at his side and his jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know. I asked about you, but neither Bubbles nor Blossom told me that. I would have come for you, Buttercup.”

You smiled at him. 

“They knew better than to say a word to you. Seven years ago I didn’t want anyone to know. And I didn’t need rescuing. I rescued myself.”  

You smiled again and Sy just wanted to hold you.

“Went back to school and finished my degree. Lived life on my own terms.”

You looked him in the eye again.

“So yeah, I guess I have a pretty good life, too.”

“I’m glad, Buttercup.”

Sy sat down again and your eyes moved down the length of him. Why did brown dress shoes get you so hot? You had a problem.

“You sharing this good life with anyone?”

Sy’s voice made you nervous all of a sudden. You looked at your hands.

“Not at the moment, no. I’m single.”

Sy seemed to let out a breath. 

“Me, too, been single ever since I retired.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“Oh.”

Sy stood up and walked in front of you. You were still looking at his shoes.

“Ya know, I’ve only felt like I’ve been in love once, no. Twice in my life.”

“Hmmm.”

You were afraid of this conversation and you couldn’t fully participate. 

“Please look at me Buttercup.”

You did as he asked. His eyes were burning right through you.

“The first time I felt that was 20 years ago, with you. And the second…”

Sy moved toward you and took your hands in his.

“Hell, we’ve wasted enough time, Buttercup. The truth is,when I saw you tonight I realized that I’m still in love with you now.”

—-

The wind was knocked out of you. How were you supposed to respond?

“Sy, I- I can’t survive another hurt. My heart is in pieces.”

“I know, Buttercup. But I promised you that I will love you until the day I die. I meant that shit. I still mean it.”

He moved closer, and he slotted himself between your thighs. His hands went to your hips and he pulled you close.

“Won’t you let me make it up to you? These last 20 years?”

You continued to look into his eyes as you considered his request. You put your hands on his chest as you made your decision.

“No, Sy. I can’t let you do that.”

He looked hurt and his eyes were cast down as his cheeks dusted pink. He thought he blew it. Then you spoke again.

“The past is the past. It’s done. We can try and work on today. And tomorrow. One day at a time. I’d like to try with you.”

Sy’s brow furrowed, but his face softened as he realized what you were saying. He gave you a soft smile.

“Fair enough, Buttercup. Let’s work on today. And tomorrow. I’ll give you some time.”

You thought about how Sy was always a gentleman with you, never pushing you to do anything you didn’t want to do, always putting your needs first. Well, you needed him now.

Your hands were fisting his shirt now, pulling apart so that you could see his dog tags against his chest hair, and that image sent you feral. You pulled him toward you. Sy sucked in a breath as you left a soft kiss on his lips, his beard tickling your cheeks. He seemed frozen as you pulled away. 

“Mmmhm.”

Sy grunted in his throat and his hands came up to your waist. His cock was swelling and he felt on the edge of control. 

“I wanna kiss you again, Buttercup. And not in a ‘sweet’ way.”

“Do it, Sy. We’re grown now.” 

You were breathless at the emotion and lust in his voice. 

Sy moved his hand to the back of your neck and you shivered as he carded his fingers at the back of your scalp, tugging on your curls to make you look up at him.

“‘M not sure you are ready for all that I want, Buttercup.”

And his mouth descended on yours, his thumb came around and ticked your jaw open for him to invade your senses with himself. He kissed you like he owned you, and his hands ended up on both sides of your head as you moaned your way through the kiss. He pulled away, looked at your lips, then went back in to kiss you again.

“Ya got my mind runnin’ baby. Those lips. Fuck. I’m down bad.”

Sy’s cock was hard and aching, and his hands were on your body: those thighs, that ass as he pulled you closer to him. Then he stopped and leaned away, searching your face. Your eyes were dilated and those lips were parted.

Holy fuck, was he a goner.

You whimpered and pulled him closer, your hands going to his ass as he kissed you again. He was laughing at you as he pulled away this time.

“Look who’s getting spicy no-”

Sy stopped talking when you ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. You were disappointed when you saw the tank he was wearing underneath.

“Sorry Sy. I ruined your shirt. I don’t know what came over me.”

You looked up at him under your lashes and he couldn’t tell if you were being facetious or not. You toyed with his dog tags, imagining them waving in your face as... Shit. What were you doing?

Sy stepped back and pulled the shirt off, and pulled the tank out of his pants, then came back to you immediately, hands moving up your thighs, pushing your short dress up even further.

“I know what came over you. Same thing’s that’s been possessing me for years, Buttercup.”

Sy leaned down to capture your eyes and you were stuck. You were locked in on him as he proceeded to destroy your sou.

“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy for years, running around my mind as I did a lot of things. Thought of you when I was training, eating, doing things around the house. When I was in-country and alone in my tent at night. When I…”

Sy stopped and licked his lips as his hands reached the tops of your thighs, long fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You squirmed in his grip.

“Shit, Buttercup, do you ever think of me when you touch yourself?”

You were mute, mouth open to breathe, and Sy knew you were in the zone. 

“Cause I sure as hell do. Do you know how often I’ve imagined you wrapped around me when it was just my hand?”

Sy whispered it in your ear, but pulled back to see your reaction, which was wide-eyed lust. You licked your lips and nodded, ready to hear more. 

“Time and space is nothin’ to fight this powerful magic that is the thought of you, Darlin’. I imagine you, imagining me while you touch your pretty little pussy, circling your little clit with your delicious wetness. I dream of you getting off because of me, just like I cum so fucking hard just thinking of you. Every time.”

Sy watched your eyes close and your chest heave as you tried to regulate. He continued with his seduction.

“...But I know it’s nothing like the real thing.”

Your own fingers ventured below his undershirt, finding thick abdominal muscles there, and a dense happy trail. His stomach clenched in response to your touch.

“Mmmm. Can I touch you too, Buttercup? Are these panties soaked? Can I check to make sure?”

You were nodding as your hands went up his pecs, grabbing them, your fingers ghosting over his nipples. Sy moved his hands at a glacial pace it seemed, because you wanted him instantly where you needed him most. 

He found your sodden center over the gusset of your panties and you pressed into his light touch. He groaned as he started rubbing up and down your clothed seam and pressing the now sticky material into you. You leaned forward and started licking and sucking the veins that popped up on his neck. He moaned.

‘You got me so far gone, baby. I wanna…’’

He grabbed the side of your panties and you whimpered with need.

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop. But right now I can’t help myself. Need to feel you, touch you, taste you.”

“Don’t stop, Sy. Been waiting so long.”

Sy put his forehead against yours, breath huffing in time with yours. You again asked for what you wanted.

“Sy. I need you. Need to feel y-”

Your words caught in your throat as Sy pulled your panties to the side and sunk his fingers into your wetness. The obscene slosh of you made Sy pulse in his pants. He trailed up and down your cut, shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“Why?” 

He looked up at you as if you had wounded him, blue eyes blazing.

“Why are you so fucking…so fucking wet? How do you expect for me t-to f-f fuck! T’ function when…?”

The stutter did you in.

“‘S’all you, Sy. Got wet when I first saw you t’night…”

Sy pulled his fingers out and tasted them, moaning, then growling, and then took a hold of your waist and practically threw you in the back of the truck. He leaned over the gate, pulled your thighs apart, then tore your panties off, causing you to squeal.

“You’re so fucking pretty. Gotta taste you, Buttercup. Can’t believe it’ll be my first time.”

“Go for it.”

You winked and smiled at him, but the look was wiped from your face as he dove into your crease, tongue licking a rude stripe from the bottom to the top of you. You put your hand over your mouth as you moaned.

Sy looked up at you, offended.

“Don’t keep your sounds from me, baby. Need to hear the real thing instead of my imagination.”

He went back to work kissing your clit, then sucking it into his mouth with increasing intensity. The slight burn from his beard was delicious. You got a grip of his hair as he manhandled your thighs, keeping you in place as you writhed and arched beneath him. He moaned against you while talking to your pussy. 

“So fucking good for me.” 

“Taste like a jar o’ spicy honey...”

“Hmmm. Beard’s all soaked now. That’s my girl.”

“Gettin’ even wetter for me, that’s what I like. Gimme.”

“I love this pretty little pussy.”

His proclamations were punctuated by kisses, licks, and sucks and finally, he pushed one thick finger into you as you called his name. The cunilingus, penetration, and praise had you teetering on the precipice.

“Syyyyyy!”

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Damn, you’re so fucking hot and so godamn tight. Dream about giving you my cock, but I don’t know if you can take it…”

He knew he had you as he leaned back down to suck your clit like taffy candy again. You watched him and moaned. Then he added another finger. You stiffened. Then he crooked his fingers, telling you to come to him, and you did. And all over his face.

Sy took off his tank and wiped his face with it, then unbuckled his pants and fisted his cock, crawling in the back of the truck with you.

“Don’t have any condoms, just let me… just let me rub one out…so fucking hard for you Buttercup.”

Sy was so far gone, his mind was mush.

“C’mere, Baby…”

You reached for him as he shuffled near you on his knees and started stroking, admiring the large mushroom cap of his cock glistening from pre-cum in the starlight. You fell in love with the way his length curved into the curls on his abs, and the way his breath hitched as your hand tried to close around him. You pressed your nose into his belly to inhale his scent, careful not to stop what your hand was doing. 

It was your turn to pleasure him.

“I do think about you, Sy. I imagine deep throating you while you play in my pussy. Makes me cum so hard against my little bullet.”

You pressed a kiss near his belly button as his cock jerked in your hand and his abs clenched. His hand went to your hair. You could tell that he wanted to move your mouth to his dick, but that he was holding back. You lifted your hand, jacking him faster as you kissed his balls, which were so tight against him.

“Wan’ you to cum all over my stomach, my tits…”

Sy groped your chest, searching for and then twisting your taught nipple when he found it. He was outright panting as you talked him through it.

“.... my ass, my lips, Sy…”

His groan was louder now and his knees were shaking as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, pausing, to purse your lips and gloss them in the clear fluid at his tip. You gazed up at him as you stuck your tongue out and kitten licked him.

“Truth is, I’m a slut for you. Fuck my face Sy,”

“Shhhhhitttttttt….!”

Sy grabbed your head and used your mouth while you concentrating on taking his thick length and breathing. 

“You’re a slut, hunh? My slut?”

You nodded as best you could, only to have your eyes roll as he pushed down your throat.

“Dream about swallowing my cum? D’ya? Like a good girl?”

“Ummhnnghhh!”

There were tears rolling down your face and saliva dripping down your chin.

“So fucking pretty swallowing my cock. Fuck….here it… fucking… comes….. Fuckkkk!”

Sy roared as his dick pulsed cum directly down your throat and you received it, letting your jaw go slack. Sy groaned as he pulled out and stroked the last of his spend on your outstretched tongue.

“So fucking nasty, Buttercup, who woulda thought?”

He beamed at you as you showed him his handiwork. He closed your mouth and you swallowed before he pulled you in for a filthy kiss. He cleaned your face with his tank top, straightened your clothes and his, and then pulled you to him.

“That was…”

You were hoarse, and you laughed. Sy laughed with you.

“That was hot.”

“Yeah. It was great.”

“I love you, Buttercup.”

There was silence on your end. You shivered as you thought about what was holding you back.

Sy didn’t want any awkwardness. He kept it moving.

“It’s getting chilly out.” 

He climbed out of the back of the truck and picked up his shirt, flicking any dust off of it and put it on you. Then, he put his tank top back on.

“Sy! That’s… Dirty.”

You blushed as you thought of your fluids all over it.

Sy lifted it and smelled it, then grinned back up at you.

“Yeah, smells like your pussy. Don’t think I’ll ever wash it.”

“Jacob Syverson!”

You swatted at his chest.

“Don’t act all shy on me now, not after what we just did, Buttercup.” 

He lead you back around to the passenger seat again and buckled you in. You bit your lip wondering what came next. Was this really happening? 

In a few minutes you were back at your car. The parking lot was empty except for your rental. Sy jumped out and opened your door. When you were back in your car, he leaned through the window and kissed your lips. 

“You’re here until Monday, yeah?”

It was Friday night. There was a weekend of activities for the reunion planned.

“Yeah. I’ll be at the cookout tomorrow, and church and brunch on Sunday. And I have a job interview Monday morning.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at that last bit, but didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Can I see you tomorrow night? Dinner?”

“Okay.”

Why were you so breathless?

Sy was anxious at letting you go.

“I’ll follow you to your air bnb. Just to make sure everything’s safe.”

You smirked at him. 

“Alright.”

Sy followed you to your old neighborhood, which now seemed to be gentrified, got out and checked out the house. Then, you walked him back to the front door. He leaned on the door frame and towered above you.

“G’night, Buttercup."

He licked those sinful lips of his.

"Sweet dreams.”

He leaned down and kissed you and then straightened up, eyes on you hungrily. He was driving you crazy, looking like a sex god. You thought about the amount of time you had left and you made a decision. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the house.

“Get your fine ass in here, Sy. I’m not done with you tonight.”

----

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[viking-raider]

Sy's Therapy Barn

Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.

Pairing: Syverson/Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V

Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.

Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.

It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.

He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.

He didn't want sympathy, far from it.

Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.

So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.

“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.

Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”

“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”

“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”

“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.

Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”

“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”

“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.

“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.

“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.

“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.

“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.

“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.

“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.

“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.

“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.

A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.

“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.

“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.

The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.

As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.

The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.

Which only amused the retired Army Captain.

“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.

Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.

“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.

Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.

“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.

“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.

Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.

“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”

Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.

“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”

“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.

“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”

“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.

“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”

Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.

“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”

He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.

“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”

“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.

“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.

“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.

“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”

You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.

“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.

“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”

“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”

“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”

“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.

“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.

“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.

“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”

“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.

“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.

“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.

“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.

Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.

It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.

“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.

“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”

“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.

“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”

“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.

You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.

A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.

“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.

“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”

“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”

“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.

You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”

“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.

You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.

“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.

“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.

“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.

You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”

“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”

“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.

“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.

“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.

“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”

You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.

“It's a stupid idea.”

Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.

You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.

Your big bear.

“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”

A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.

“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”

“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”

“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.

“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”

“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.

Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”

“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.

“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.

“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.

“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.

“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.

“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.

“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”

You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I love you, Syverson.”

“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.

“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.

You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.

Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.

People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.

But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.

It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.

“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.

“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”

“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.

“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”

He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.

“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”

“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”

“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”

You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.

“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”

You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #Syverson #cpt syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x you #syverson x reader #captain syverson #syverson smut #syverson fluff #captain syverson x reader #Syverson/You #Syverson/Reader #Sand Castle #Fluff #Angst #Sy's Therapy Barn #Sy's Therapy Barn *Fic*

[sweetandgentlecreature]

Friendly Fire

Author’s Note: Hello, again! I’d like to thank everyone who liked, commented, and shared my first little project. The love it received was overwhelming for a newbie to the fanfic scene, and I’m so grateful for the input and encouragement. This story takes place in the same timeline as my first installation, so if you haven’t had a chance to read Homeward Bound yet, you can find it here. Don’t worry, though! There won’t be a specific timeline to follow. The idea is to give little glimpses into an established relationship, so you’re not missing anything (yet!). We started with a reunion, so it only seems fair to take it back to where it all began. I can’t wait for everyone to meet the new woman in Sy’s life. Happy reading!  Summary: Last night, Syverson met the love of his life. If only he could remember it. Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC  Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol consumption and weapons, adult language, and (almost) implied smut. Sy is his own warning. I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

“Oh, fuck me,” Sy groaned to himself. He threw a heavy arm over his face and sighed, doing his best to block out the sun as it creeped in through the blinds, but resistance was futile. Stupidly optimistic birds chirped their early morning songs, each shrill call rattling around in his skull like an angry swarm of wasps, wild and pissed off. His body felt heavy, his joints ached, and his stomach churned. “I’m gettin’ too old fer this shit.” 

Sy could handle a little hangover. He’d done it before, and Lord know’s he’d do it again. In truth, he’d been burning the candle at both ends since he’d made it home. Sy hadn’t taken a leave since his first year in the military. His reasoning? 30 days go by too quick, no use in getting comfortable somewhere just to pack up and ship out again. This time though, he’d decided that he’d earned a bit of a break. That, and his mama was threatening to cut him out of the will if he didn’t show his face at least once this year. Not that he’d get much, of course; that wasn’t the principle of her empty threats. He knew it just as well as she did. She was starting to get up there in age, and time waits for no one. Especially not for Clayton Syverson. 

Groaning softly, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, heavy limbs moving a little slower than usual this morning. He stretched and yawned, balling up a fist to rub the sleep from his bleary eyes. A thought crossed his mind as he worked to get those old bones moving again and he stopped dead in his tracks, hand still over his left eye and mouth still agape. “Wait…how the fuck did I make it home?”

Sy took stock of the room around him. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place. Everything was just as he’d left it. The tops of the dresser and chest of drawers were bare, as was the nightstand. The laundry basket that sat atop the trunk at the foot of the bed was still there, filled with neatly rolled t-shirts, socks, and skivvies. The only things that seemed to be out of sorts were his bed (since he hadn’t had the chance to make it yet), and his jeans that laid crumpled on the floor at his feet. “Weird,” he mused, and pushed himself to stand. Padding off to the bathroom for that blissful first piss of the day, he lifted the seat on the commode to relieve himself. Hold on. Lift the toilet seat? He hadn’t had to do that since he left home, nearly a decade ago. 

“What the fuck is goin’ on, now?” Must’ve been a visit from the toilet seat fairy, since he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stepped foot into this old house. Sy could feel the hair on the back of his neck start to prickle up as he washed his hands. When his eyes found his reflection in the mirror above the sink, he had to talk himself down again. 

“Get a grip, dickhead. No one broke in just ta’ use the can.” Wandering back out to the bedroom, he’d almost made it out into the hallway, when he’d heard it. One more step, and he might’ve missed it. The soft creak of old floorboards below gave him another moment of pause. Sy held his breath as he listened intently for a moment, almost willing the house to groan again under the shift of weight. Nothing. A rush of wind left his chest as he sighed and shook his head. He swore himself off of corn liquor, never again, and took the stairs two at a time on his way down to raid the fridge for something to eat. “Hmm…somethin’ smells good. Is that–”  Bacon. That ain’t no toilet fairy down there. Someone’s here.

Soft, tranquil humming echoed down the hall. Whoever it was seemed to like Fleetwood Mac, as they aimlessly flipped slice after slice of pork products into his skillet. A loud pop of grease made him, and the intruder, flinch. “Oww! Shit!” Then the tap squeaked, followed by the sound of rushing water, and Sy thanked God that he hadn’t had time to fix it yet. Good. He knew this old farmhouse like the back of his hand, so he knew exactly where the stranger would be standing when he'd walk in. They’d have their back to him, and he’d have the upper hand. Reaching blindly into the armoire to his right, he drew the revolver from the false bottom of the drawer and peaked around the corner of the doorframe. His thumb hovered over the hammer, ready to cock it, when what he saw gave him pause. Who he saw, was more like it. 

“I know you.” The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. Her head snapped up from the sink as she turned towards the sound of his voice. She was just as startled as he was. 

“Well, I sure hoped you would.” 

Turning off the tap and reaching for a towel to dab at her scalded hand, she leaned against the counter like she owned the place. Her hair spilled down her shoulders and back in effortless, mahogany waves. The shirt she wore was stolen, and wrinkled from sleep. The logo was faded yet unmistakable, and the hem fell to about the middle of her sunkissed thigh. Why was she wearing his Skynard shirt? She watched as his eyes grew wide with realization, and it made her laugh. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy,” the intruder smirked, and lifted up the shirt to reveal a pair of cut off levis beneath it. “You sure tried like hell, but…nothing happened. How’s the head?” 

Visions of last night’s bonfire flashed through his mind. It felt like flipping through a stack of polaroids. Everything was blurry, all soft and fuzzy at the corners. One minute, he was leaning against the tailgate of his truck, nursing a beer and watching as his friends acted a’fool. The next, Johnny was passing around a quart of his homemade moonshine and calling him a pussy for trying to turn it down.  Damnit, Johnny. Sy recalled that the eyes that stared him down from across the room now were the same ones that gleamed at him in the warmth of the flames that flickered between them the night before. If only he could remember how they got there. 

As if to read his mind, she nodded as she spoke, returning to the stove just in time to salvage the last of the bacon. “You, uh…you went a little hard with that paint thinner Johnny had. I just wanted to make sure you made it home alright. Hope that’s okay.”  Sy licked his lips slowly as he processed what she was trying to say, then gave a short nod. He removed his finger from the trigger and tucked the gun away again as smoothly as possible. He didn’t want to spook her. She made him breakfast, after all. 

“Right. Thank ya, Miss.” Deeming it safe again, he crossed the threshold into the kitchen and watched as she turned off the flame beneath the cast iron on the stovetop. He felt out of place, like he should be doing something to help, so he crossed the room to grab the orange juice from the fridge. 

“Merrin,” she finished for him, then reiterated. “I’m Merrin. And you’re…Sy? That's what they call you, right?” For the first time all day, Sy cracked a crooked smile her way and pulled down two clean glasses from the cabinet beside the sink. 

“Yes ma’am, but my mama named me Clay.” 

“Clay. Got it.”

Breakfast was served, and the two strangers sat down to eat it. Merrin filled him in on what he missed from the night before. Johnny bet Sarah that she couldn’t shotgun a beer faster than he could. He lost. Petey and Melissa snuck off to the woods to skinny dip in the creek and came back with poison oak in some pretty intimate places. Roscoe passed out in the grass, and Luke and James had to carry him back to the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday night in rural Texas. He asked about her, where she came from and what she was doing in his neck of the woods. She told him how she’d moved to town about six months ago, how she’d bought that cute little split level on the corner of Oak and Adams street. All Sy heard, though, was that he could’ve been sitting here with her six months ago. Maybe he outta come home more often.

–

“So,” he started, rinsing the suds from the face of his plate as he stood at the sink. They’d demolished that stack of bacon and eggs and were working to clean up after themselves. “How’d you end up in my shirt?”

Merrin smirked as she dried a glass and tucked it away again. “You don’t remember?” She was all too pleased to share this story. Sy laughed a deep, hearty chuckle that rattled loudly in his broad chest and shook his head. 

“Well…” she teased. “We’d been staring at each other most of the night. I’d been waiting for you to introduce yourself, but after a while, I just thought I must’a looked funny or somethin’.” 

“Mhm…” he hummed, his eyes never once leaving hers. He’d had a cup of coffee and a handful of Advil with his toast, so things were a little clearer now. He remembered watching her from afar as she chatted and giggled with her friends. He remembered thinking he’d want to remember the way she looked when she smiled his way. How he wanted to remember the way the light danced in her eyes when she laughed. She continued before he could ask her to carry on.

“When you finally got the courage to make a move, you decided that I looked a little thirsty. You grabbed me a beer, crossed the yard, tripped over a tree limb, and…poured it down my back.”

Sy winced. Surely she must be joking. One look at the smile on her face told him that she wasn’t, and he groaned. “Well shit, sugar. I’m real sorry. At least let me–”

“It’s already in the dryer. Don’t worry, big guy. You can pay me back when you take me out to dinner Friday night.” She gave a playful pat to his chest and grinned, brushing by him on her way to clear the rest of the table. Sy turned to follow her, his eyes grazing over the curve of her backside as she bent down to grab a napkin from the floor. He smiled, stacked the plate into the strainer and tossed a dish towel over his shoulder. 

“Sounds like a plan, darlin’.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson fic #syverson #henry cavill characters #syverson fluff #syverson smut #cpt syverson

[ellethespaceunicorn]

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Title: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out 

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Syverson x Female!Reader 

Word Count: 951

Summary: When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU. 

Warnings: apocalypse AU, accidental pregnancy, language

A/N: A submission for @the-slumberparty BINGO challenge. My bingo squares include beach day, family friend, accidental pregnancy, and apocalypse. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me 

My Masterlist  

As you sit just past where the water rushes on the beach, you can feel the mist of the water on your face. Sea salt is in the air, and you relish the smell. You can remember coming to the coast with your family as a child. 

Of course, that was before the world decided to end. Before you had to change your entire way of life in the blink of an eye.  

Now, moments like this are but a distant memory. Your shoes are off. Your toes are buried in the sand. Saliferous wind from the ocean is blowing through your hair. Next to you is a duffel bag full of essentials, at least what you could grab on short notice.  

Escaping the compound turns out to be a bit trickier than you had hoped. But with a close friend at the guard station, you sneak by and out of the gates without a second glance. You make it out of town before dawn, watching the sun rise over the water. 

By now, you know that your superior officer will be conducting roll calls and noticing your absence. You did not care enough to go back, but you wish your brain would stop letting you worry about what was going through their brains. 

‘Is she alive?’ For now, yes. 

‘Did she go alone?’ Technically, no. 

The distant sound of tires on gravel does not surprise you. Neither does the noise of the rusty truck door opening and closing. The softness of sand being kicked up by big boots creeps up to the side of you. You do not have to look up to know who is next to you, but you do anyway. 

The dusty old camouflage pants with thigh holster and sweaty brown plain t-shirt gave him away in an instant, but your eyes continue higher. His unruly beard covers his irked expression, his mouth set to one side as he chews his inner cheek. You’ve known him long enough that he chews his cheek whenever he gets upset. 

He looks down into your eyes and you watch as they wander across your form. 

“Your brothers are worried sick about ya. I told ‘em I would come to look for ya,” He sits down in the sand next to you, “Runnin’ ain’t gonna fix our little problem.” 

“Our problem, Sy? First, it is not our problem. Second, it is not a problem. It is a baby. And this baby wasn’t exactly planned, I understand that. But I don’t expect you to do anything. We can get by on our own.” Your voice breaks and you hate that your eyes are blurry with unshed tears. 

“I wasn’t callin’ the baby a problem. And if ya think I’m lettin’ ya raise this little hellion on yer own, yer outta yer damn mind. Now, yer brothers are my best friends in this whole damn world. And yes, they’d kill my ass if they knew I got you pregnant. But they’d resurrect me and kill me again if they knew I’d let ya off on yer own. Shit, I’d kill my ass too.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it does nothing to stop the fat tears that escape when you blink your eyes. The shuddering breath you take is enough to have Sy scooting closer to you and bringing you into his arms. 

“Don’t cry, Sweetness. We’ll figure this out. Together,” He kisses your forehead and snakes a hand down to your stomach, “Let’s give ‘em a chance, alright? Make a better world for ‘em and all that nonsense. I can’t fathom losing both of ya, let alone either of ya.” 

“We should have been more careful—” 

“Well, we weren’t bein’ careful. And now, we got a kid on the way. So what? Every time we face a little trouble, you gonna run?” He wipes away your tears, looking into your eyes again. 

“I’m really scared, Sy. What are we going to do?” The tremble in your voice has Sy holding you tight. 

“Well, to start, we tell yer brothers about the baby. Then, whaddya say we go over to the doctor, have everything looked at? Make sure he’s growing fine and everything.” 

You laugh, not able to hold your amusement. “He? You already know it’s going to be a boy?” 

“Well, ya know my folks had five boys. Yer parents had two before they had ya. Odds are it’s gonna be a boy, Sweetness.” 

“I’m a little shocked. What changed your mind about everything? You were not this verbal when I told you yesterday.”  

He bites his lip, looking out at the sea before answering. “I guess I was too scared to admit how I felt about ya. And then, outta nowhere, you give me the best gift in the world, and I didn’t know how to handle it,” He takes a shaky breath, then continues, “I’m sorry I waited ‘til now to say it, Sweetness. I love ya. I love ya, so damn much. And nothing would make me happier than to raise this little one with ya.” 

You climb into Sy’s lap, holding his face in your hands, and resting your forehead against his. “I love you too, Sy.” You lean in and slot your mouth against his. You allow him to take the lead as his hand tangles in your hair. 

Pulling back, you smile at each other. Nothing needs to be said. You turn in Sy’s lap and watch as the waves crash in and out. You have each other and you have this baby. With a love that burns bright like yours, neither Hell nor high water would be able to snuff it out. 

A/N: Title taken from There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths. It seemed perfect for this story. 

**Tag List** 

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel @geralts-yenn @rebelangel1102

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #cpt syverson #syverson x reader #syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #syverson x you #syverson smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill x you #apocalypse au

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Fifteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Fifteen Summary: Marshall agonises while Lori takes matters into her own hands.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Fifteen Warnings: slight angst, mild violence, smut, p in v sex,

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

Been a while since I wrote a sex scene with a character other than Sy! I hope you enjoy it.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fourteen Part Sixteen

Marshall

Lori sedately followed me as I led her to her room. 

I was in no hurry, on the contrary, I would have liked to walk with her for a while, hold her hand and do some of the usual stuff you do with a girl you like. But that's not how this was going to go, not in this situation, so I folded my arms across my chest and kept my pace to match hers.

“Did you get everything you needed with Mike?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said softly, “the packages should be at the post office tomorrow.”

“I'll send Mike to pick them up in the afternoon.”

Her brows furrowed, but she nodded.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“I told Mike I was going to hang out with him tomorrow afternoon. But it's not like I'm going anywhere for a while, there will be plenty of afternoons.”

“No. You and Mike can do your thing. I will go and pick them up myself.”

“You will?”

“Sure. You seem to enjoy his company. You smile a lot with him.”

She lowered her eyes and grinned.

“See? Thinking about him makes you smile,” I chuckled. Her face dropped a little. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, but then shook her head, “I was thinking… Have you heard from Sy?.”

“No.” Her frown deepened. “Are you worried about him?”

She shrugged. 

“Do you miss him?”

She shrugged again, but with a forced carelessness that made it obvious that she was.

“I’m sure he misses you too.”

We stopped outside the door to her room. She made no move to open her door so I waited, leaning against the wall while she appeared to be thinking.

“What I said to you this morning,” she started, “what I accused you of, it was wrong of me.”

I shook my head. “Your reaction was completely understandable. We were out of line. And considering where you come from, it makes sense that you might see it the way you do.”

She raised her head and her normally steel blue eyes had taken on a dark smokey hue that sent a bolt of energy tingling through my nerves.

“I don’t see it that way anymore anymore,” she said, huskily.

For a moment I let myself entertain the fantasy that I could spend the night with her again without the mellowing effects of weed to kill my most feral instincts. Heat flooded my skin as I remembered the weight of her body against mine, the sweet citrus like smell of her hair, and the softness of her thigh. I didn’t think there was a snowman’s chance in hell that I could sleep next to her sober and not shred her clothes to pieces to get a taste of the silky hidden skin between her legs. 

I clenched my jaw as I shut that line of thought down fast. I hadn’t changed my mind from earlier; as far as I was concerned, I was no longer a party to the pact. However, I was not made of stone and I knew my resolution could only withstand so much temptation before it crumbled, so I turned towards my door. Then her hand came to rest on my bicep, her gentle touch halted my escape and my back went ramrod straight.

“Spend the night with me?” she asked, her tone so softly pleading that it took my breath away.

“I can’t,” I said, forcing the words out before I had a chance to say something else.

She withdrew her hand quickly, as if my reply had burned her.

The look on her face made me sick to my stomach. The rejection and confusion marring her dollishly pretty features was almost as bad as the accusatory look of betrayal she had given me that morning.

“You don’t want this,” I explained. “What you said this morning, you were wrong, but you were also right. What my Brothers and I did, what we agreed to, we had no right.”

“You said it was my choice.”

“We did, but we put you in an uncomfortable situation you didn’t deserve and one you don’t want, not really.”

“Oh and this situation,” she moved her hand back and forth between us before placing them on her hips, “is less uncomfortable? Rejection is what I deserve then?”

“Lori,” I said, forcing myself to keep a lid on the frustration that began to boil in my guts, “Do you deliberately misinterpret everything I say, or are you just childishly stubborn on purpose?”

Her jaw dropped and she rounded on me, poking her finger into the centre of my chest, forcing me to take backward steps until my back hit the wall.

“You’re a manipulative prick. All of you are. Was this the plan the whole time then? Playing with my feelings, deceiving me into agreeing to your ridiculous pact and then telling me it was a joke?”

“Lori–”

She pushed me then, her palms bouncing hard off my shoulders, and although it didn’t hurt, it was bloody annoying. I grabbed her hands, turning her in my arms until they crossed over her torso and her back pressed against my chest.

“Let me go,” she yelled while she struggled, pulling and yanking on my arms.

“Calm down,” I growled into her ear, trying desperately not to harden up as she twisted like a kitten trying to get free. 

“I’m not your plaything,” she hissed, “You’re supposed to be protecting me or have you forgotten what you’re being paid for?”

“And that’s exactly why I said no. Do you think I don’t want you? Do you not notice how when you’re in the room I can’t look away?”

She stopped fighting, her body was still tense, but she wasn’t thrashing. I dropped my head into her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin, my lips brushing against her tender flesh.

“Every inch of me wants you, wants to be inside you,” I mumbled as I my will began slipping through my fingers like sand. 

I released her and ran my hands over her body, until they rested against the burning hot skin of her belly where her tank top had ridden up in the struggle. Her hand covered mine and she didn’t stop me as I slid them under the thin fabric. I rumbled out a groan as the soft weight of her breasts filled my hand, and her hard little nipple teased my palm.

“You’re a constant, tormenting, burn in my chest. Right here,” I placed our hands over her heart, “I ache for you.”

She whined weakly, her body melted against mine as she turned her head towards me.

My lips were on hers before I could think. She was soft, warm, and so perfectly lush that my whole body shuddered and I groaned into her mouth. Without stopping the kiss I grasped her waist, guided us blindly to her door, and fumbled with the handle.

Lifting my lips from hers long enough to turn her, I took her to the bed and laid her on her back before capturing her mouth again. Her thighs fell apart beneath me and I spread my legs to make her widen them until I was grinding my trapped and throbbing cock against her heat. She gasped into my kiss and I didn’t hesitate to slip my tongue into the plush warmth of her mouth. I groaned at the taste of her as she kissed me back and sunk her fingers into my beard, nails scratching gently at my cheeks and jaw. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice told me to stop, that I shouldn’t take her like this. I lifted my head, trying to swallow my most violent basic instincts while I struggled to find the words I needed to stop this from going any further but my body was too raw and my mind was skirting too close to the edge of reason. Then I felt her move beneath me, her hips rocking, lifting up to meet mine and a greedy feral urge overtook any rational thought. 

Fuck it. I was hardly on track for sainthood anyway.

I growled, it's the only way I can describe the animalistic groan I released as pulled her tank over her head. Catching both of her slight wrists, I held them above her head in one hand while the other pulled her jeans and panties down her thighs. She cycled her long lush legs to help me peel her flushed body out of the skin tight clothes.

Below a small short patch of hair, her delicate smooth slit was glistening. As if time had decided to stand still, her legs lazily fell open and she blossomed before me, revealing with painstaking slowness her dewy centre. My cock jerked at the sight, desperate to plunge into that soft and sleek slit.

My fingertip circled her nipple, once, twice, three times, my head pounding as I watched the already pebbled skin grow tighter. She mewled as I took her little pink bud into my mouth; her hips rolled and her arms pulled against my hand while her head fell onto the bed with a long throaty moan. God, that sound made my already throbbing cock so fucking hard, I felt like I could fuck through a brick wall.

“Shh,” I soothed and slipped two fingers into her mouth. Her eager lips wrapped around them and her tongue slid over the pads while she sucked. With a rumble in my throat, I replaced my fingers with my tongue and she reciprocated, hungrily drawing me into her mouth with a torrid pull.

I ghosted my wet fingers over her slit, parting her, making her open for me. Fuck, she felt nice; delicate, small, warm, slick, swollen… just so fucking nice.

Barely able to control the primal part of my brain that screamed at me to completely ruin all that sweet softness, I flipped her onto her chest and lifted her hips until she was on her knees. Her cry of shock hardly slowed me as I clawed at my jeans and lowered them just enough.

“I want to take you like this,” I mumbled as I leaned over her and ran my hand from her hips, down the concave of her waist, and over her ribs until I cupped her breast. My cock nudged against her core and I felt her sharp intake of breath.

“Oh my God,” she whined.

Gathering her thick braid in my fist, I kissed her just below her hairline before turning her head towards mine. She was the perfect picture of a woman lush with arousal; eyes heavy lidded, cheeks rosy, her mouth parted as she panted in shallow breaths.

“Yes,” she whimpered, bobbing her head and chasing my lips.

I let her catch me and she kissed me hard, moaning softly as my tongue met hers. I pulled away but her teeth sank into my lower lip making me hiss and my hips jack. I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“We’ll go slow next time,” I rasped, rising to my knees and I sunk into her molten velvet heat.

“Fuck,” we both groaned as our bodies met.

I stilled, the thrill of being inside her almost too much as she shuddered around me. I swept my hand down her spine to the back of her neck. Her skin was so smooth, supple, and even in this position, with my cock balls deep within her quivering core, she still had that seductive allure of feminine purity that I wanted to take apart piece by painstaking piece.

What the fuck was I doing?

“Shit,” I muttered and started to pull out, “I’m sorry.”

Her hand shot back, grabbing hold of me and sliding down my still clothed arm until her hand held mine.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered.

All I could feel was the pounding of my heart, from my fingertips to my toes, to my cock. She squeezed my hand while she lifted her head, determination radiating from her fierce, stormy grey eyes. 

Then she moved.

Only a small twitch of her hips, but oh God, the tight, silky, slick friction was heaven. The hold she had on my hand grew tighter and she rocked again as a breathy moan floated from her throat.

“Fuck, Lori…” my voice trailed off as she continued the shallow erotic rotations of her hips and arching flex of her spine.

My lust overrode the last of my hesitations and I began countering her movements, rapidly dialling up the intensity until our bodies were crashing against each other. My fingers were digging into her hips while hers were clutching at the covers, our eyes were locked in a feverish hold, neither one of us able to look away.

“Come here,” I groaned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her up until her back rested against my chest. My hands moved all over her, mapping out every soft curve. 

She stretched, raising her arms to reach for me, turning my head and searching for my lips. Her kiss surged through my body, every muscle straining, the growing tension inside me had me heading for a release that was bearing down on me like a freight train.

I held her tight, one arm around her chest, my fingers mauling at her breast while the other skimmed over her taut, quivering belly going lower and lower until I brushed her clit. Her hips bucked as she cried into my mouth, and her pussy clamped down so hard on my cock, I almost lost it then and there.

Muscling her into place, I kept her still while I fucked her and worked her clit. She was trembling and her hands floundered, searching for purchase to steady herself as she got closer to the edge. I gathered her wrists in my hand and held them to her chest.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“I know, Lori, I know. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I whispered into her neck, the skin so hot and humid that it made my lips tingle.

“Marshall… Oh my God…” 

“Let go, Lori. I need to feel you.” 

I lifted my head and found her striking, heavy lidded eyes. She was flushed, skin reddened and shiny, panting and gasping, she was more breathtaking than ever.

“Look so beautiful.”

Her eyes widened then squeezed closed as her whole body grew taut and she let out a groaning curse. 

“Fuck, Lori. Just like that.”

Her body rolled as if she were fighting me off again. I moved with her, keeping my fingers where they needed to be, fighting my own release as hers milked and pulled hard on my cock. It was a futile fight. Just as her body went lax and her head lulled against my shoulder, a hot euphoric pulse worked its way through my body.

Gripping Lori tighter, I pulled her closer to me while I pumped up into her, everything focussed on chasing my impending high. The throbbing rush crashed over me in long heady waves, each tide surging through me into her, filling her up until I had nothing left and fell onto my heels, taking her with me.

The sudden silence of the room was jarring; the only sound came from us catching our breath. Still buried deep within her core, my arms were wrapped around her with one hand cupping the firm flesh of her breast and she rested her weight on my thighs. I was sweating through my shirt, my belt buckle cut painfully into calf, and my boots - I still had my fucking boots on - dug awkwardly into my ankles, but I dared not move. I endured the discomfort to avoid the inevitable crash back to reality. Maybe if I stayed still and held her long enough, I could ward off the impending shame and perhaps Lori wouldn’t come to her senses and regret what we had done.

The dead air stretched on and on. Neither of us spoke or moved and the longer it continued, the more I feared I had catastrophically fucked up. 

Then Lori’s hands covered mine and she laced her slim fingers between my thick ones. With some hesitation I rubbed my thumbs over her skin and kissed her shoulder. 

“Say something,” she whispered.

I kissed her some more, trailing my kisses up along the ridge of her shoulders to her neck.

“Something,” I muttered.

Lori shook her head with a snicker and leaned back into me, turning her head until she could look me in the eyes. She was smiling, her face beautifully blushing and glowing, errant tendrils of her voluminous hair stuck to her slightly dampened skin. I brushed the stray locks back, tucking them into her braid as best I could.

Sighing, I shifted and Lori got off my lap, and I sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to unlace my boots. I felt her hands brush over the small of my back and she lifted my shirt to place a kiss against my spine.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like this,” I told her, placing both boots neatly on the floor and dropping my jeans beside them.

“Neither did I,” she said, raising my shirt higher until I had no choice but to lift my arms and let her pull it over my head and drop it on the floor next to my jeans.

“Lori,” I said, rotating my body and capturing her cheeks in my hands, staring resolutely into her tempestuous blue eyes, “I don’t regret it.”

Mimicking my position, she raised her hands to my cheeks and replied just as assiduously, “Neither do I.”

From deep within my gut, a warm surge of relief flooded my nervous system, making my spine feel like jelly. Expelling a held breath, I snaked an arm around her back and guided her back to the bed. Climbing on top of her, I covered her with my body and hummed at the feel of her skin against mine.

“This time,” I told her, “we’ll go slow.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc #syverson #syverson x ofc #cpt syverson #captain sy #august walker fanfiction #august walker #august walker fic #august walker x ofc #walter marshall #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall fic #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt of rivia fanfiction #mike (hellraiser) #mike hellraiser #hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser) fic

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Under The Stars and Stripes - One (Capt. Syverson x OFC)

a/n: look at your girl coming up with two multiparters at once!!! i wanted to write something sweet for capt. syverson (who moving forward, i have named luke, fyi), and my partner sort of suggested this (i mean, kinda, he thought it was what i was writing - turns out he was wrong but gave me a v good idea).

pairing: Capt. Syverson x Joanna Blake (OFC)

warnings/content: injuries, medical discussions, age gap (38 + 26), mentions of military service, inaccurate descriptions of physical therapy + military life.

word count: 1.9k

The unforgiving glare of the overhead lights in the medical center cast a harsh radiance over the waiting room. Luke's cerulean blue eyes squinted against the artificial glow in the room, his gaze wandering in search of anything remotely captivating. Opposite him, an infographic poster touted the virtues of physical activity and mental health, a message that seemed incongruous with the knee brace he begrudgingly wore. The irony of contemplating jogging or hitting the gym while nursing a wounded knee did not escape him.

"Luke Syverson?"

He swiveled his head in response to the melodic call of his name. In the doorway stood a woman, her blonde hair secured with a claw clip, a clipboard balanced gracefully in her hand. A warm, friendly smile adorned her heart-shaped face. With a half-hearted wave, Luke acknowledged her.

"Present and accounted for, ma'am."

Internally, he winced at the self-consciousness his response provoked. Rising to his feet, Luke attempted to distribute his weight favorably, minimizing the strain on his compromised leg. A sharp pang shot through his knee, confined by the rigid embrace of the brace. Collecting his crutches, he navigated his way toward the young woman, focusing on maintaining a semblance of grace. The crutches, tools of mobility he had resisted vehemently at home, now betrayed his struggle.

As he drew closer, Luke observed that she was notably younger than he, the realization of his own impending forties sinking in. Her olive-green eyes sparkled, framed by honey-colored strands that cascaded like molten gold. A sun-kissed radiance illuminated her complexion as she beamed at him.

"I'm Joanna. I'll be your physiotherapist moving forward. Let's head to the exam room; we can go over the paperwork together."

Her voice possessed a cheerfulness that could rival a weather reporter or red carpet interviewer. Luke nodded in understanding, trailing behind her as they entered the room. The once sterile lighting had mellowed, casting a more agreeable ambiance.

The examination room emanated professionalism, each piece of equipment meticulously arranged, and charts displayed with precision. Joanna gestured toward the examination table, indicating for Luke to take a seat. Settling into a chair nearby, she balanced the clipboard on her lap.

"Alright, Captain Syverson, let's delve into the paperwork and gain a betterunderstanding of your situation, ok?" Joanna initiated, her focus shifting to the documents before her. 

“Let’s start with the basics, full name and date of birth?”

“Right,” Luke began, “"Full name's Luke Everett Syverson, ma'am. Ain't much use for the middle one, but it's there. I was born April 15, 1968, ma'am, interrupted my ma’s Easter dinner. Home base is Fort Bragg, North Carolina, hence why I’m here in Durham. Otherwise woulda’ probably gone to the centre in Tennessee, closer to where I’m from and all..” 

“You know, I never use my middle name much either, but, just in case there’s two Luke Syversons in the armed forces, gotta include it to make sure I’ve got the right one.,” Joanna nodded her head, humming as she jotted down her notes.

The room embraced a quiet tension as Luke settled onto the examination table, his eyes following Joanna's movements with a mix of curiosity and wariness. The dimmed lighting cast a softer glow, alleviating the clinical starkness of the surroundings. Joanna, her gaze focused on the paperwork, began with a series of routine questions about the nature of Luke's injury.

"So, Luke," she started, her tone gentle yet professional, "tell me about when the injury occurred, and how has the journey been since then?"

Luke took a moment, his gaze drifting to a framed landscape photo on the wall. The distant mountains seemed to echo the weight of his thoughts. "Iraq. Torn ACL," he said, sparing the details but acknowledging the source of his struggle. "Routine patrol, turned into anything but routine."

Joanna nodded, recognizing the understated weight in his words. "I see. That's a significant injury. And you had surgery to correct it?"

Luke shifted his weight uncomfortably on the exam table, nodding his head. “Sure did, m’am, three days ago. Still hurts somethin’ fierce, but I guess that’s what I’m here for.”

He sighed, his focus on the knee brace that had become both a literal and symbolic constraint. 

“To be completely honest with ya, m’am, I just wanna get back on my feet so I can figure out what to do with my life now, you know?”

She nodded, understanding the complex emotions wrapped around his military service and the path to recovery. "Recovery and returning to civilian life is a process, Luke. We'll take it one step at a time. Do you have any idea what you’d like to end up doing in future?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. Never went to college, so a lot of stuff’s off the table now. Plus, I’m getting old. Not sure where that leaves me either. Thought about maybe becoming a police officer or an EMT, you know? I wanted to do that when I was a kid, but then joined the military on my 18th birthday instead.”

Joanna smiled warmly as she made a couple of notes on her paperwork, before continuing to further establish the details of Luke's history, the conversation shifting to one about his daily struggles and the impact the knee surgery had on his life. With each exchange, a bridge of understanding formed between them, an unspoken alliance forged in the pursuit of healing.

In those moments, Joanna glimpsed the man behind the military façade. Luke rarely dwelled on his time overseas, focusing instead on the immediate goal: shedding the brace and moving forward. The physical therapy sessions ahead were not merely about mending a knee; they were about reclaiming a life after two decades of military service.

As the examination progressed, Joanna outlined a personalized rehabilitation plan, detailing exercises and strategies to rebuild strength and mobility. The room, once filled with tension, now held a promise of progress and recovery.

"Alright, Luke," Joanna said, concluding their discussion, "we something to start with at least. Let's work together to get you back on your feet."

With the paperwork completed, the clipboard now resting on the desk, Joanna moved seamlessly into the practical aspect of Luke's rehabilitation. She began guiding him through a series of light exercises designed to gradually rebuild some of the strength in his knee that he’d lost. The atmosphere in the room shifted from contemplative to purposeful as Joanna demonstrated each movement with precision, her instructions clear and encouraging. 

Luke, though initially reserved, found himself following her lead, a quiet determination in his eyes. As they progressed through the exercises, Joanna observed the subtle signs of discomfort and adjusted the routine accordingly, ensuring that the session struck the delicate balance between challenge and progress. The room resonated with the rhythmic hum of therapeutic effort, a shared endeavor toward a future where the weight of the brace would be a distant memory. As the session neared its end, Joanna offered a reassuring smile.

"Great work today, Luke. We'll take it step by step, and before you know it, you'll be moving freely again."

“Thanks m’am, I appreciate it,” Luke replied, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“It’s what I’m here for,” Joanna nodded as she held the door open for him in an effort to make it easier to exit as he hopped on his crutches, “And Luke? I wanna hear that you’ve been using the crutches at home as well, or you’ll just injure your knee further.”

“Yes, m’am,” He chuckled, shaking his head as he made his way out of the clinic.

Later that night, Luke settled into the worn-out couch in his living room, the dim light casting a soft glow across the room. He dialed his younger brother Travis’ number, the anticipation of sharing his day evident in the subtle smile that played on his lips.

After a couple of rings, Travis’ voice came through the phone, lively and teasing.

“Well, well, if it ain't the elusive older brother himself. What's new, Luke?"

"Not much, just had my first therapy session today,” Luke chuckled softly as he took a bite out of his slice of pizza. 

"Therapy? Never thought I'd see the day, Luke. What's the world coming to?"

"It's for the knee, not my sanity, Travis."

"Alright, alright. So, how'd it go, Captain?"

"Surprisingly good, actually. The therapist, Joanna, she's something else. Got me doing all these exercises. Says I'll be back to hiking those Arkansas woods in no time."

“Joanna, huh? Luke, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a little bit of a thing for her. Florence Nightingale effect?"

"You watch too many movies, and besides, idiot, that’s when the therapist falls for the patient. Ain’t gonna happen. She's just good at her job, makes me feel less uncomfortable, I s’pose."

"Sure, sure. So, what's the verdict? She cute? Should I tell the kids they’ve got a new aunt?"

"You'll be waiting a long time for that. But seriously, it felt good, productive. And, she asked me about what I wanna do now. Got me thinkin’ about my options."

"Really? Did she smell the smoke? Set off a fire alarm?"

“Funny. I’m thinkin’ maybe becoming an EMT, you know? Can still help people, use my military training, just…stayin’ stateside and less sand.”

“You did always have a thing for helping people, I’ll give you that. Now, about Joanna…”

“Travis, forget it.”

“I’m just saying, Ma’s 60th birthday is coming up, and you know you’re in for a grillin’ about when you’re giving her grandbabies.”

“She has two already,” Luke protested, laughing as he took another slice from the box of pizza, “Besides,” he said with his mouthful, “I don’t know if I even want kids at this point. I’d be dead by the time they had kids”

“Well, if they take after you, maybe. I had kids at a reasonable age.”

“I s’pose, how are they anyway? Bet ya Hannah’s grown like a bad weed since I saw her last, and Maddie? She was knee-high to a grasshopper last time I saw her.”

“They’re good. Maddie’s almost 5 now, gettin’ quite feisty, like her mama, and Hannah’s taken up cheerleadin’, now I gotta become well-versed in making perfect pigtails in her hair if her mother’s busy with the little one.”

“Better you than me, Trav. Don’t think I could figure out how to do those tiny lil elastics.”

As Luke engaged in a heartfelt conversation with his brother, the echoes of family life stirred a contemplation of his own future. The tales of parenthood shared by his brother left a lingering thought.

 Did he, despite his usual reserved nature, harbour a desire for a family of his own? 

Love and romance had often found him awkward and uncertain, but when it came to showering affection on his nieces, those barriers melted away effortlessly. His musings naturally gravitated towards Joanna, her radiant smile replaying in his mind, illuminating the corners of his apartment like a beacon. 

The playful teasing from Travis planted an idea in his mind, one he never expected to be considering, which prompted Luke to consider whether there might be something extraordinary about his connection with Joanna.

Setting the cordless phone down on the table beside the couch, he sighed heavily, the weight of his newfound solitude settling in as he savored a third slice of pizza. His eyes roamed around the room, the empty expanse of his apartment feeling almost suffocating. The hush of the house, disrupted only by the dull roar of football highlights on the TV, intensified the solitude. In that moment, amidst the quietude, the prospect of companionship and a shared future became a lingering ember in Luke's thoughts.

#captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc #cpt. syverson #cpt. syverson fanfiction #cpt. syverson fic #cpt. syverson x ofc #cpt. syverson x oc #captain syverson x oc #captain syverson #capt. syverson #capt. syverson fic #capt. syverson x ofc #capt. syverson x oc #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction

[peyton-warren]

Blinded by the Fog Chapter 9

Characters: Reader, Captain Syverson Pairings: Reader x Syverson, Jake Jensen x Reader Word count: 3686 Type: angst and fluff Warning: 18+. Minors DNI. You will need tissues according to my beta. Guilt, self-depreciation, self-doubt, loss of spouse and found family, swearing, adorably adorablness and sickeningly sweet Sy. Summary: Reader and Sy have their first official date.

Author's Note: So many people to thank for this one. Thank you to @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta and for helping me through some rough spots in this. Thank you to @adulting-sucks for her continued support and betaing. Thank you to @sarahdonald87 and @geralts-yenn for listening to me whine about this chapter their support.

Ask Box: Open

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Chapter 8 The following night you put your car into park next to Sy’s truck in his driveway a few minutes before you were scheduled to arrive for your first official date.  You nervously looked at yourself in the mirror, looking for imperfections for the thousandth time even though Aaran Syverson had already seen you at one of the lowest moments in your entire life just a few short weeks ago and still wanted to see you tonight.  

Flipping your visor back in place, you reached for the handle of the door, reminding yourself and the nervous butterflies that this was your idea.  Last night after you had assured Madre that you had made it home safe and sound, Sy and you talked more about apprehensions you both had and what you both wanted moving forward.  And it was quickly but delicately decided you would try actually dating.  That alone made you feel like a teen again, filled with excitement about seeing Sy in a more intimate way and also supplied you with dread at attempting to date in a town that seemed to be overstocked with people who knew about your recent loss.  You knew it was absurd to assume everyone who might see the two of you out together would think you were the world’s worst widow, but your brain would not let that possibility go.  Sy’s compromise was to have your first official date at his house the following night, he would cook for you. This plan seemed simple enough. The perfect combination of everyone’s wishes. But you couldn’t help the nerves now that it was here as you approached his front door, fidgeting with the skirt of your new dress for the millionth time.  

The new dress..... The one you had run off over an hour away to purchase this morning, deeming everything in your closet to be too tied to your husband, unable to shake the feeling you were cheating on Jake by agreeing to see Sy.  If you had new clothes, clothes your husband had never seen, never touched, it would make this semi-okay in your brain.  And speaking of never touched, you also took it upon yourself to buy yourself new lingerie.  You blushed hotly at the thought of the pastel purple set you were currently wearing under your dress.  You weren’t entirely sure you were ready to sleep with Aaran yet, but if it came up - excuse the pun- you were certain new undergarments should eliminate a portion of your hesitation.  

As you reached the door, you raised your hand to knock, only to have it opened before your knuckles could touch the painted surface.  You jumped, squeaked, and nearly dropped one of your gifts in your hands as you hid the second one behind your back with a rustle.  “Oh hi!” you tried to sound casual and normal as you looked up at your host leaned against his door.  And as your eyes flowed over him from toe to head, all rational thought disappeared from your brain, and you are fairly certain you need a bib.  

Dressed in jeans and dark blue collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and barefoot, Aaran exuded comfort and confidence all in one, something you wished you could say you felt at the same time. Your eyes landed on his sparkling blue ones as he finished his own perusal of you, making you flush as his eyes crinkle in the corner as his smile widened.   

“You look lovely,” he assured you, gesturing for you to step over the threshold by opening the door wider and stepping back with a nod.

Flustered, your eyes flitted around to find a safe place to land that was not on Sy as you entered his home. “Oh, I brought you these,” you stuttered, holding the hand not behind your back to offer him the six-pack of his favorite beer.  As his fingers brushed yours in the handle, you gasped, and looked up at him, his eyes trained on your face, the look both adoring and curious. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice comforting and alluring, and seeming to flow over you in a way that it had not just a few days ago, seeming to almost coat your soul.  

Self-consciously, your hand dropped from the handle, choosing to grip the side of your skirt.  “You’re welcome.  Oh and you look nice too,” you admitted, your voice just this side of stuttering.  You suddenly felt very silly about your second gift for Sy, realizing what you thought might be a fun and playful gesture might not come across that way.  You felt self conscious and awkward as he waited expectantly for your final reveal.  

On your way to his house when you stopped to grab the beer, you stood by the display filled with bouquets of flowers, partly thinking it would be a cute idea, that he would likely do the same if he showed up at your house to pick you up for a real first date instead of this hiding away game you were forcing the two of you to play because of your own insecurities about being recently widowed.  You had stood before the display trying to pick out the perfect bunch.  You wondered if Sy even had a favorite flower.  And if he did what would it be.  Are there any flowers Texas was known for?   And you realized quickly you didn’t know much about Texas or the man you were joining for dinner.  

“I have to get back to cooking,” Sy said softly, breaking you from your thoughts.  “Make yourself comfortable.  Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.  “A beer?” He raised the bottles in his hand with a soft smile, before wandering toward the kitchen at a slow pace, half watching you.  

“Water is great and I know where it is,” you insisted.  

“Nonsense,” he insisted, popping the beers in the fridge and pausing at the stove to stir something.  “Let me get it for you, grab a seat.” 

You entered his kitchen to be greeted by familiar lovely smells. “Oh my god, is that-“ you paused, smelling again, craning your neck to look at the stove from the doorway.  

Sy’s face broke into a broader smile from the sink  “It is.  I remembered how much you liked it when I made it for you a few weeks ago,” he stated, settling a glass of water near the stools at the breakfast bar.  

Your smile matched his as you watched him turn back to the stove.  “It smells as amazing as I remember. Can I do anything to help?”  

Sy glanced over his shoulder at you, a calming looking on his face.  “You can sit there and tell me about your day,” he insisted.  

You glanced at the stools and then recognized you still held your other hand behind your back.  “Hey before I do that, do you have a vase?” The eyebrow of meow appeared again and coasted high on his forehead.  “A vase?” he asked questionably, still looking at you from over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you responded, blushing.

He dropped the spoon to the stove top and nodded, licking his thumb and forefinger.  You couldn’t stop yourself from focusing on his tongue and lips as he made a soft, subtle smacking noise.  “I do,” he admitted, heading towards you, noting the look on your face with a small smirk.  You stood frozen in place as he got within an arm's reach, all the while his eyes were trained on yours.  At the last moment before he would have bumped into you, he sidestepped, brushing his arm against the one you had tucked behind your back, a half-attempt to look at what you had hidden, as if he didn’t have a clue after your one question.  “But there’s a problem,” he softly admitted, as you turned, keeping your front facing him while bending your body back to keep his last gift out of his view.  He walked into a small room off of the kitchen that you had not ventured into during your last visit, and you followed through the open folded french doors.  On the other side was a small but well appointed dining room, and in the middle of it sat a beautifully set table, including a vase in the center filled with simple daisies with a few peace roses speckled throughout them, complementary greens in between and flowing from a glass vase.  

You let out a small gasp, with a soft smile.  “Those are lovely,” you admitted, mentally comparing them to the grocery store tulips behind your back.  

“We can find a glass for the ones you are hiding.” Sy teased, making you awkwardly offer them to him.  “They are lovely too,” he told you, taking them from you, before kissing your cheek.  “You are so sweet to bring them.” 

With your skin tingling from his affections, you shrugged.  “They are just-” 

With a gentle look over his shoulder, Sy cut you off.  “The first flowers anyone ever gave me,” he amended.  “And I love them, thank you.”

Following him back into the kitchen, you watched as he grabbed a tall pint glass from the cupboard before glancing at the stove.  “Could you do the honors?” he asked, gesturing to the flowers he had laid on the counter by the sink.  “I need to finish dinner.”

“Oh of course of course!”   You slipped your shrug off, draping it over a chair as you moved quickly to the sink as he headed to the stove.  “I need a sharp knife,” you stated after looking at the bottom of the stems realizing they were dry and likely not getting any water.  

Sy didn’t move from his spot but gave you directions to find a knife to your liking.  The kitchen filled with comfortable silence along with the soft music coming from somewhere, you finally realized Sy had music playing throughout the house since you stepped foot into the house.  You usually were the same though lately you had forgone music in your everyday life because every song seemed to remind you of Jake or another Loser.  Soon you found yourself moving to Stone Free, humming along with the Hendrix song as you trimmed the ends of the flowers, placing them in the glass filled with water one by one.  If you weren’t mistaken, you might have caught Sy watching you from the stove as he filled bowls and plates with your meal.  

As you put the last bloom into the glass, the song changed and your face lit up.  “I haven’t heard this song in ages,” you lamented as Mick Jagger began singing about being free to do what he wants, any old time.   Setting the makeshift vase and its contents on the counter closer to the stove, you sang softly with Jagger as you turned to look at Sy only to find him right next to you. With a growing grin on his face, he reached for you, and pulled you into his arms, one winding around your back.  Biting your lip you looked up at him while you slid your hand into his.  With very little effort, Sy carefully danced you between the counter and the center island of his kitchen.  Eyes always on yours, he led you into the open space of the foyer, making your smile widen as you followed his lead through the house.  

'Cause I'm free

To do what I want

Any old time

Sy spun you, extending his arm for you to step out away from him before drawing you back in, pulling your body flush to his.  With a smirk, he leaned you over, dipping you as the song ended, making your face burst with a smile and a blush.  He held you there for a second,  your chests slightly pressed together, your breathing heavier than normal, staring in each other's eyes.  After a moment’s pause, Sy opened his mouth. “I really want to kiss you right now,” he admitted softly.  

Without a second thought, you simply nodded. “Then I think you should,” you barely whispered, your heart all but bursting from your chest as Sy leaned in to kiss you.  You eagerly met his lips as he pulled you into a standing positions, his hands now sitting on your spine, holding you close to him as one of your hands threaded itself through the hairs on the back of his neck, a couple of the fingers on the other hand gently gripping at the front of his shirt, sliding around one of the buttons.  Standing on your tiptoes, your lips melded with his.  At first the kiss was gentle and sweet but as Sy’s lips parted, and his tongue stroked across your lower lip, the temperature shifted.  All thought disappeared from your brain, the world disappeared, all concerns about the impropriety of this flew out the window as your tongues stroked over each other and your breathing increased.  Sy’s hand slid up your back to tangle in the hair at the base of your neck, your fingers almost matching in pressure as your kiss continued to escalate, getting lost in each other until you heard an annoying buzzer sound from the kitchen.  

Sy pressed his forehead to yours after pulling his mouth away, but made no move to detangle himself from you.  “Dinner’s gonna get cold,” he admitted.  

Your eyes stayed closed as you shrugged, not wanting to move.  “What’s ‘dinner’?”

He guffawed before kissing your nose.  “God you are adorable.”  Your grin widened as you blinked your eyes open, looking at him as he slowly released you.  Not letting go of your hand, he led you back into the kitchen.  “Can I help get this to the table?” you asked. 

Within a few minutes, the two of you were seated at the table.  This was far from the first meal you had shared, but looking around the table you couldn't help but feel a bit flushed and giddy at the measures Sy had taken for this first date.  The butterflies were still fluttering in your stomach but they had settled some as you began to eat, chatting about your day, about work, about your lives.  All these things were not new topics for the two of you to share, but it felt different, more open, more sincere.  

After dinner, Sy filled your wine glass with water and a pretty slice of lemon before leading you out into his backyard.  There was a cute little setting around a fire pit, a smattering of chairs, and benches, and the pit looked like it was ready to be sparked to life with just a single match.  Overhead were Edison bulbs strung through the trees, giving the faintest of lights.   

You followed him down the slate path, bare feet feeling the residual warmth the stones still held from the disappeared sun. As you settled into the settee, Sy made quick work with the fire, as you had predicted and joined you.   Without a second thought you curled into him, pressing yourself to his side, your head landing on his chest, your hand on his ribs.  At first he extended his arms outward, almost surprised by your actions, but he quickly recovered, draping one arm over your back and shoulder, curling his hand over your upper arm.  His other arm came to rest on his thigh, while he pressed his cheek to the top of your head.   “This ok?” You asked after a moment.  

Sy chuckled. “More than ok, hun.  More than.”  He squeezed you tighter against him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”   

You gently shrugged, eyes focused on the dancing flames in front of you.  “I don’t know.  Because you’ve been sending me different messages.” You felt your cheeks heat up.  “One second you are looking at me like I’m the only woman on the planet, and the next you are pouring me a glass of water so I’m sober enough to go home.”   

“First of all, tonight you are the only woman on the planet as far as I’m concerned,” he admitted into your hair.  “Secondly,” he paused as he wrapped his other arm around you, holding you firmer to him. “You are going home tonight.”  His arms tightened as you stiffened against him, your hand landing on his chest to push  away from him, as if he just insulted you by making decisions for you.  “This is our first date,” he reminded you.  “It wouldn’t be proper or right for anything else to happen except a lovely kiss goodnight at my door.”

Your brain warred for a few moments. Both touched and annoyed at his thoughts. “But what if I wanted more?” you ask even though you honestly didn’t know if you wanted more than what he was extending to you tonight.  You’d be a liar if you hadn’t thought about what sex with Sy would be like. But you also knew you were terrified at taking that next step with him.  In your mind, that direction was a huge step towards getting over Jake.  And you weren’t sure you wanted to get over him yet.  You weren’t ready to assign him to your past, put him on a shelf. He was, is, forever will be part of you.  

You felt Sy kiss the top of your head, followed by a scruffy peck on your forehead.  His hand cupped you under the chin, turning you to look up at him.  He skimmed his hand over your cheek, catching tears on his thumb, tears you didn’t even know you had cried.  “Because this,” he held up his damp digit.  “Tells me you are just as scared as I am by the next step.”

Your eyes fly from his hand to meet his blue eyes in the shadows cast by the fire light, confused and a little stung by his words.  “You are scared of sleeping with me?” 

Sy sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts.  He tightened his hold on you, his hand landing on your cheek again.  “Yes and no,” he admitted, his eyes slowly opening.  You could see so much swirling in there, wishing you could read them.  “I am partly scared I will wind up just being the man who helps you get over the heartbreak of losing Jake.  That I’m the one who’s gonna put you back together only for you to find someone else when you are whole again.” His words stung hard, piercing through your heart.   

“I am not asking you to put me back together,” you assert, pulling back from him.  You fully extract yourself from him.  “I can do that on my own.  I thought this was something more than just that.” Abruptly you stood, making to move around him, intent on grabbing your things and going.  You didn’t need his pity date.  

“Sugar no,” he expressed, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you back.  He turned on the seat to face you, his legs on either side of you as you stood, arms crossed, staring at the house, not at him.  “This is more than that.  So much more than that,” he assured you, dropping his arm from your waist.  His hand reaches for your arm, gently tugging it from your chest, sliding his hand up your forearm to twine your fingers with his.  After a few silent moments, he sighed.  “I’m just scared,” he admitted.  “Very scared. Of losing you mostly.  You are the best thing to happen to me. Your pain and your struggles only highlight how incredible you are.  I’m scared you are going to get through the pain of losing Jake, and realize I was just something to hold onto so you didn’t lose yourself while you were healing.” You turned to look at him as his voice cracked. “That I was a mistake.”

Tears in his eyes were your undoing, the hurt you felt disappeared. Cupping his cheek, you stepped forward.  “Never a mistake, Sy,” you assured him.  “Never.”  He wrapped his arms around your waist and hips and drew you close to him. He pressed his face to your belly as your hand landed on his head.  “You have been my light, my guiding light as I work through all this. No matter how this works out between us, I will never think of you as a mistake.”  

The two of you stayed like that for an untold amount of time, your hand flowing over his shaved head. His face stuffed into your belly, your thighs pressed to his chest as you stared into the stars beyond the tree limbs surrounding you.  Sy felt right in a way that even Jake never did.  

With guilt you looked up into the sky, hoping Jake could forgive you for that.  You loved him, still loved him so so much. But what you had found with Sy was different, more supportive, more mature, more fulfilling.  You felt more tears fall from your eyes as you stared at the stars, remembering the first time you saw the milky way was with Jake, remembering that your first time for a lot of things was with Jake, remembering there was going to be no more first times with Jake.  

Unexpectedly and surprisingly, Sy drew you into his lap, settling back on the sofa.  Your knees landed on the cushion on either side of his hips as you allowed yourself to be manhandled into his embrace.  You both buried your faces into each other's neck. It was only then that you realized you were crying, nay sobbing.  You clung to Sy as rough as he clung to you, the two of you riding this emotional roller coaster together but separate.  But most importantly together.  Together you could weather whatever was thrown at you.  With him at your side, you could face your fears of the unknown, of the changes that you were going to meet.  You knew you could do it alone but you also knew you didn’t have to as long as he was around.  

Authors Note 2: The first time reader saw the milky way with Jake can be seen here.

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General Tag List: @littleone65 @mysweetlittledesire @jvanilly @identity2212 @avengersfan25 @foxyjwls007 BBTF Tag List: @mis-lil-red @sconnie-doesnt-know @ronearoundlightly @toooldforobsessions Syverson Tag List: @mrsevans90 HC Tag List: @m07belzen @used-to-be-bourbonwithice @hawklin @geralts-yenn @summersong69

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#Blinded by the fog series #jake jensen x female reader #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen angst #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fic #captain syverson x reader #henry cavill character x reader #chris evans character x reader #henry cavill #syverson fanfic #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc #syverson #syverson x reader #syverson smut #cpt syverson #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 26

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 25 🍂 Part 27

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: Pregnancy things, some tension, some fluff...

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: After a short hiatus of *checks notes* nearly 2 months, HERE WE ARE AGAIN! I wasn't in the mood to write this for such a long time, but now... apparently I am. (Maybe it has something to do with @keanureevesisbae's unexpected return to Tumblr with a Spencer Reid fic I'm dying to find out more about...)

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @beck07990 @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @livisss @sofiebstar @keanureevesisbae

“I’ve changed my mind,” you growled. Hugging toilet bowls had never been a hobby, and you were doing it a lot more now than ever before. You had tried to send Sy away exactly once, and failed miserably. Now, he was sitting behind you, holding your hair back while you still tried to hide what you were doing from his sight. You were going to have to become a lot more comfortable with a lot of things over the next few months…

“I wish I could do anything to help, Sugar,” Sy sighed. You could tell he felt powerless and useless. Sidelined. But as far as you were concerned, he wasn’t on the sidelines for this one. He was smack in the middle of all of it. In fact…

“This is your fault,” you snarled as you let your head hang. The echo inside the toilet made it sound extremely melodramatic, but who gave a damn? You had been throwing up almost non-stop for what felt like ages. In reality, it had been two weeks – and you hadn’t been throwing up non-stop, it just felt like it sometimes. Nevertheless, it had been two long, excruciating weeks that had made you really grateful for every day of your life you had spent… God, how to put it... Non-nauseated and happy?

“How is this my fault?” Oh no, poor man. You had definitely been taking out some extra frustration on him - which he didn’t deserve at all, by the way. He was nothing short of an absolutely ideal boyfriend.

“You knocked me up,” you said, pouting at him. A smirk took over his face. You knew that look.

“I did, didn’t I?” Good God. It had taken both of you a few days – and the confirmation by your doctor that you were really pregnant – to get used to the idea a bit, but ever since the news had settled in… The easiest way of putting it would be that Sy was just very proud of himself. And of you, that went without saying, but there was definitely a new level of swagger and attitude surrounding him in everything he did.

He took every bit as much care of you as before – which you occasionally struggled with, still – and now that you were working on a whole new human, he had doubled down on those efforts. And let’s be real; you deserved it. You were building a baby, dammit. At night, his hand had permanently relocated to your stomach. It was a good thing; over the past week or so your boobs had really been giving you hell. You had yet to break the news to Sy that there was a significant chance that particular playground would remain closed for the foreseeable future… He wasn’t going to like that, you were pretty sure of it.

The sound of running water was unexpected, but not nearly enough to actually make you look up. It was the nudge against your shoulder that finally did that, and you saw Sy holding out a glass of water for you. Rinsing wasn’t enough to get the taste out of your mouth, but it sure as hell wasn’t for lack of trying.

“You should drink some,” Sy pointed out. He was right, of course. “Can you get up?” He helped you off the floor and into the shower before announcing that he was going downstairs to make you a cup of tea. You sighed – what else could you do? – not because you didn’t appreciate the gesture, or even because you didn’t want the tea. Peppermint tea usually helped with the nausea, so that was a definite bonus. You were just sad that Sy’s arms wouldn’t be around you anymore, and also sad you couldn’t have coffee.

He returned a little while later. You hadn’t even gotten around to washing your hair yet. Instead, you’d just been standing around, warming up…  

“Do you mind if I join you?” Sy asked. He was already naked in front of you, what the hell did he expect you to say other than ‘ehm, hell yeah!’ Although the flat little hum you let out lacked his preferred enthusiasm, you were definitely still thinking it? Did that count? You decided it counted. Sy seemed to be of a slightly different opinion, raising an eyebrow at you as if to ask you a question. You knew which one, and of course you still loved him.

“Please come here and hug me?” You said, stretching your arms out to him. Sy stepped into the shower with you and held you for all of two seconds before he started kissing you. At first, you tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Sy! I haven’t brushed my teeth,” you said. It didn’t look like this man was going to take no for an answer.

“I’ll happily kiss you anywhere else, Sugar.” He lifted you as if you weighed nothing and kissed your neck. He had shown you time and time again that he could throw you around like it didn’t mean a thing, and you were always really happy about it.

“Sy, not today.” He put you down with a grunt of frustration. You’d been turning him down consistently for weeks now – even before the engagement/birthday party, there had been some time with plenty of reasons not to. Some hadn’t changed – tired, pain, not feeling well – some were new – baby, hormones. It’s not like you wanted to say no, it’s just that you were tired and feeling sick, and it was a hassle.

“Do you even remember how we got in this situation, Sugar?” Sy said through gritted teeth. His irritation rubbed you the wrong way. Yes, you did. As a matter of fact, the memories of your previously very active sex life haunted you in your unusually vivid dreams – and even those weren’t enough to get you to wake up in the mood for sex. And the fact that Sy was pushing for it, really didn’t help. “Sugar, I honest to God just miss you. But it’s fine. Just give me five minutes and I’ll come to bed.” Oh. It was nice to know that he wasn’t just asking because he wanted to get laid, that really helped settle the irritation that had started burning inside you. You got out of the shower and got ready for bed, already thinking about the peppermint tea that was waiting for you on your nightstand, and hoping vigorously that it would help settle the nausea as it always did.

You thought about what Sy said in the shower while you carefully sipped the hot beverage. He missed you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him, but why did it have to be that? Your thoughts were interrupted by the sounds emerging from the shower. You’d heard them plenty of times before, yet it somehow still felt like a massive violation of his privacy. He’d disagree; it was routine for him, he wouldn’t even stop when you walked into the bathroom before he was done. In fact, you suspected he liked that you took little peeks at him in the mirror, too shy to actually turn around and watch him – and you were pretty sure that if you did turn around to watch him, he’d love that, too.

Your thoughts went back to the issue of his intimacy cravings when the water shut off. He still had to take care of his beard – probably the one thing about his appearance he was a little vain about – which gave you a little time to think things over. There was no doubt in your mind – or anyone else’s – that Sy was a very physical guy when it came to loving you, and not always the best with words. He basically worshipped you, always taking care of you, always wanting to touch you… Why did you treat that like such a bad thing when it wasn’t? The things he did for you… You never got the idea that he was doing them just to get laid. In fact, you never got the idea he wanted anything in return. What if your big guy just wanted to love his woman the best way he knew how?

#syverson x ofc #syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson fluff #cpt syverson #syverson fic #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 23

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 6.5K

Warnings: Party time, Family Drama, Hand Job, Dom/Sub Undertones

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019

A/N: Find the chapter playlist here!

Day 204

After they’d finished setting up, Leah went to the bathroom to change. When she returned, Sy momentarily forgot how to breathe. She wore a black long-sleeved dress with thigh high socks and a pair of simple black Vans. The flowy skirt of the dress was short, ending a few inches above the socks and showing off her tattoos.

“Please tell me you’re wearing underwear under that,” he blurted out before he could think better of it.

Leah closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Wanna check and make sure?” she teased.

Sy hesitated for a second but decided to trust that if Leah was offering it was because she was prepared for the possibility of him saying yes. His hands followed the curve of her ass downwards, slipping under the hem of her dress and following her soft skin all the way to the edge of the boyshorts she’d put on under her dress.

“Good girl,” he praised, reassured that he wouldn’t have to threaten anyone with bodily harm for catching a glimpse of Leah’s ass.

The next hour passed in a blur of names and good food. Caleb knew his way around a grill, that was for sure. Throughout their dinner, everyone took a moment to greet Leah and welcome her home.

Once the plates had been cleared, a few of the guys prepared the fire pit. Sy was happy to see that it was one of those chiminea style ones. Fire combined with dozens of drunk boys was often a recipe for injuries or forest fires but that was less likely with an enclosed flame.

The music was turned up as guests started moving to the open space that apparently served as a dance floor. Leah was chatting with Killian and Trevor—two of her friends from high school—along with Camden, Lachlan and his girlfriend, Isobel.

At first, Camden and Lachlan had used every possible opportunity to grill Sy but eventually they either gave up or decided he wasn’t so bad and they turned their focus back to catching up with Leah.

Killian was in the middle of telling a story about some girl he’d been seeing when Sy’s phone rang. He frowned as he saw the video call request, briefly hesitating whether or not to ignore it, but he eventually decided he should take the call.

“Sorry,” he kissed Leah’s temple as he stood, “itʼs my sister. Iʼll be inside.”

The cabin was surprisingly well insulated, the sound of the music being nearly completely muffled as he closed the door behind him.

“Hey Liv.”

His sister didn’t return his greeting, jumping right into what she had to say.

“I called mama to know what night we should come over for family dinner and she said you’d gone chasin’ after some girl! Ya didn’t think to say goodbye?”

The old couch in the lounge area creaked as Sy’s weight sank into the cushions.

“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d notice. Ya didn’t mention y’all were plannin’ on comin’ by again.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Sy winced at what could only be described as a high pitched squawk. He wasn’t sure why she was so offended. If anything, he was the one who should have an issue with her.

“The other night y’all were only there for like two hours before goin’ home and ya said maybe three full sentences to me in that time.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open as she scoffed. “It was a school night and the kids had homework.”

“Ya couldn’t have maybe written the teacher a note explainin’ that their uncle was back on American soil for the first time in years and that they could catch up on schoolwork another time?”

Sy didn’t know much about kids and schoolwork but he was pretty sure they could have played the returning hero card if they’d wanted to. Didn’t schools still say the pledge of allegiance every morning? And if not, how much trouble could they really be in for not doing their homework? The oldest wasn’t even ten years old yet.

“They can’t just skip homework, education is the most important thing at their age.”

It was Sy’s turn to scoff.

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it. I’ve been comin’ second fiddle to your education since the day I was born.”

“That’s not true.”

Sy suddenly snapped, not managing to keep his cool any longer.

“Isn’t it?” he half shouted. “Do you know how many teachers I had that were excited to have me as a student until they realized I was the Syverson sisters’ dumb younger brother? Do ya know how humiliatin’ it is to be the only seven year-old in your class who can barely fuckin’ read? No, ya don’t ‘cause whenever I came to ask either of y’all for help, Abi was always out readin’ in the garden and you were yellin’ at me to get outta your room.”

Just like that, Olivia went from combative to defensive.

“That’s not fair. I was eleven, it wasn’t my job to play teacher.”

“No, you’re right, it wasn’t your job. As for fair? Is it fair that after barely showin’ me the time of day ya call me up to yell at me ‘cause I decided to go after somethin’ I want instead of puttin’ everyone else first for once in my fuckin’ life?”

“Ya can’t be that self-absorbed. When have ya ever had to put anyone else above yourself?”

Sy counted out on his fingers as he spoke.

“When I was six and ask my friend’s older brother to fake mama’s signature on my failed tests so that she could focus on takin’ care of two newborns instead of worryin’ about me. When I enlisted at eighteen so that our parents would have one less mouth to feed while they worked to put you and Abi through college. When I gave up on buyin’ my own place to help pay Jackson and Austin’s tuition and all four of your weddings. Where the fuck do you think our parents got thirty-five hundred dollars for your designer dress?”

Olivia’s face fell as she realized he wasn’t talking out of his ass.

“I— I thought that with mama goin’ back to work full-time and daddy’s promotion—”

“Mama’s a file clerk in the county records office and pops is a shift supervisor at a warehouse. Ya really think that’s enough to save over a hundred grand in less than ten years? ‘Cause that’s how much I’ve sent them.”

“Ya shoulda told me,” she whispered as she sank down on her pristine white leather couch.

“Why? Would ya have treated me differently if ya’d known? I shouldn’t have to pay ya to give a shit, Olivia.”

“I do give a shit! Itʼs just kinda hard to get along when you’re never here. Ya may have helped pay for our weddings but ya werenʼt there. You left us, not the other way around.”

“Iʼve got better shit to do than sit here and listen to ya have a tantrum. Say goodbye to the kids for me.”

“I hope sheʼs worth it,” she spit right before ending the call.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall alerted Sy to the fact that he wasn’t alone. He looked up to see Caleb holding out a fresh bottle of beer. He must have been in the bathroom when Sy moved inside.

“How much of that did ya hear?”

“Basically all of it. It’s a small place, sorry man.”

“Honestly, that fight was a long time comin’. It was bound to happen at the most inconvenient time.”

To Sy’s surprise, Caleb fell into the seat across from him. He hadn’t planned on discussing the subject any further but it seemed the younger man had other ideas.

After a long moment of silent staring, Caleb finally spoke.

“You’re fucking perfect for each other, you know that?”

Sy wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting him to say but it sure as hell hadn’t been that. Feeling a little more at ease, he leaned back and finally took a sip of the cold beer.

“How do you figure that?”

“You’re basically the same, except that you had two really different upbringings.” Caleb looked over at the wall which was filled with happy family photos. One of them showed Caleb at what must have been his high school graduation. Another showed Leah half-way up some mountain she was climbing. Another was of the two of them with a man who was the spitting image of the both of them. Sy continued his perusal as Caleb began listing his observations.

“She wasn’t as strong as me in school despite trying really hard. For a long time after dad died she basically made herself invisible because she didn’t want to distract me. When she enlisted, she made me take her half of the inheritance so that I could pay for med school.”

Caleb was right. They were more similar than either of them had ever noticed.

“I wasn’t sure about you. It’s hard to accept that my baby sister is getting involved with a guy who’s not only a decade older—”

“Nine years, actually.”

Caleb smirked, shaking his head.

“A man who’s both almost a decade older and her superior but… I think you’re exactly what she needs because you’ll understand her. I think she’ll always want to put you first and that you’ll do the same for her.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Standing, Caleb clapped Sy once on the shoulder. “Just make sure you keep her alive and happy or I’m gonna show you that Leah’s not the only one who picked up a thing or two from our dad.”

Sy couldn’t help but smile. He believed with one-hundred percent certainty that Caleb would, in fact, follow through with his threat and the only thing it did was warm his heart.

“You know,” Sy stood to follow him out, “she doesn’t make the keepin’ her alive part easy. She’s fuckin’ stubborn as a mule and acts like she’s got nine lives.”

Caleb had one hand on the door, pausing before he pulled it open.

“Yeah, I do know. It was my job for four years. Why do you think I needed five other guys to help me take care of her? Tag, you’re it.”

The two men were laughing as they stepped outside, Sy making his way back to Leah’s side. Most people had joined the dancing but it seemed she was either uninterested or she was waiting for him to get back.

A familiar beat began to play over the speakers and a few of the guys were immediately hyped.

“Ooh!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re far too kind!”

As Caleb and a guy he knew from the hospital began singing along, Sy realized the lyrics were wrong. He returned to Leah’s side, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s Encore by Jay-Z mixed with Numb by Linkin Park.”

As he thought about it, it wasn’t that strange of a mix. He’d never been a big fan of hip hop but he found that it worked over the beat.

“Yo Caleb!” one guy called from the crowd of people. “Run it back, run it back.” The dancers parted to let him and his girlfriend through. “Killer! Get your ass over here!”

Leah vigorously shook her head no, trying to wave him off. “No way. V, this is your dance.”

The woman, who Sy now remembered had introduced herself as Valentina and her boyfriend as Victor, pulled Leah up from her seat.

“It’s yours too and it’s not nearly as fun with a pregnant partner who can’t do half the moves. Go make his night, I’ll keep your man company.”

Victor’s girlfriend dropped down across from Sy who tried not to think too hard about how much he liked being called Leah’s man.

“How do you know Leah again?”

“Me, Vic and Leah were in the same performing arts program in high school. I got hurt two months before our final performance and Leah offered to sub for me since she was a year younger and wasn’t doing the senior showcase.”

Vic dragged Leah out to the makeshift dance floor and Caleb started the song again from the beginning. Everyone gave them space as Vic began leading Leah through a routine that Sy guessed might be tango mixed with more modern styles.

It was clear Leah was not as skilled as Vic but she seemed to remember the routine well enough, jumping for the lifts and following along to the fast footwork. They were dancing close together—intimately close—but Sy wasn’t jealous at all. He could tell by the expression on her face that Leah was having fun and nothing more. Vic kept his hands in safe territory, never straying from her back or thigh unlike when he’d danced with his girlfriend earlier.

Out of nowhere one of the single girls took the chair at the end of the table and leaned in to catch Valentina’s attention.

“Are you seriously okay with her grinding all over your boyfriend like that?” She huffed, shooting a dirty look over at Leah. “I don’t know why everyone is so hung up, I swear even the girls are drooling over her.”

Valentina was stunned silent but Isobel jumped in without a second of hesitation. 

“Tammy, you’re new around here so maybe you hadn’t realized this yet but if you’re looking to get with someone, whining over the fact that Leah’s getting more attention than you is a bad way to do it. I can guarantee that any guy here would drop you like a hot potato if Leah came calling, not because they want her in their bed but because they respect the fuck out of that girl and love her even more. If you can’t handle that then I suggest you find somewhere else to be.”

Tammy sat there, mouth agape. She looked at each guy in turn as if expecting one of them to come to her defense but none of them said a single word. Seeming to realize she’d just screwed her chances with every available guy present, she threw her purse over her shoulder and stormed off.

The strange remix song had ended and the couples returned to dancing as they’d been before Vic interrupted them. He and Leah walked back to the table together where Vic wrapped his arms around Valentina from behind and cupped her belly. If he had to hazard a guess, Sy would have said she was about five months along—far enough that she was noticeably pregnant. Sy looked away, feeling like an intruder in their intimate moment.

“Do you dance?” Leah asked, gulping down a few sips of water as she caught her breath.

“Not like that.”

Leah only laughed, motioning for Sy to get up from his seat. “I barely dance like that.” Reaching out a hand for him to take, she walked backwards as she led Sy towards the other dancers.

“I’d never really danced until I offered to help Vic.”

Her statement took Sy by surprise. He would not have been able to follow that choreography as a new dancer much less perform it at a showcase with only two months of practice.

“Then why’d ya offer to sub for Valentina?”

Nibbling on her lip, Leah looked almost embarrassed. “Because growing up I watched a lot of dance movies and I wanted to be just like those girls except I was too busy with martial arts and learning the best ways of skinning a deer.”

It was the first time Sy had ever heard Leah express anything but complete happiness with the way she’d grown up. He could understand how it might feel like a betrayal of her father who’d done everything for her. As much as she might look like a tomboy, she had a more feminine side hidden away as evidenced by the outfit she was wearing. He was willing to bet that his mama would be more than happy to have a little bit of girl time with Leah and give her all the motherly love she was missing growing up.

Leah wrapped her arms around Sy’s neck and his hands easily found her hips. A slower hip hop song began to play, giving him the perfect excuse to hold her close though he tried to keep things PG considering she had a half dozen pseudo big brothers around.

“What about you, where’d you learn to dance?”

“When I started goin’ to bars I was told girls like a guy who can dance. And that line dancing didn’t count.”

Leah let out an exaggerated gasp. “I’d take a guy who can dance to Fake ID over a guy who can tango any day.”

“Guess I’m in luck then.”

Her face lit up with excitement and she immediately ordered Sy to pull his phone out of his pocket, making grabby hands as she did. She’d explained earlier that they’d set it up a Spotify playlist so that everyone could contribute a handful of their favorite songs and they would play on shuffle throughout the night to keep things fair. Leah found the song she was looking for and queued it so that it would be the next one to play.

Fake ID was not a known line dance. Most people only learned it if they were big fans of the Footloose remake. It was harder to learn than most since it had a longer series of steps to remember before it repeated. Then there was the fact that it was fast-paced and was hard to pick up on the spot.

Sy’d learned it for his brother Jax’s wedding so that he could surprise his bride with a big dance performance but, in the end, Sy hadn’t been able to make it home. He’d look like a dumbass following the YouTube tutorial led by the movie’s choreographers in the barracks but he’d really been hoping to make his brother happy.

When the song came on, there was a round of cheers from the girls. Like a well rehearsed routine, the pairs came apart and everyone fell into place by forming two lines—one for the guys and one for the girls. Leah kept her eyes on Sy, watching him follow the steps as if he’d done the dance a hundred times before.

Giggling with the girls around her, Leah had a broad smile plastered on her face. She moved with confidence, hitting every mark and looking damn good doing it.

Just before the bridge one of the girls shot her a wink and tipped her chin towards Sy. He didn’t realize the wink actually meant anything until the song slowed its pace and all the girls turned towards the line of men who had all stopped dancing and instead begun walking backwards as the girls strut towards them looking like hungry felines. It was obviously something they had practiced before, twirling and shaking their hips as they kept their eyes on their boyfriends. The onlookers whooped and hollered at the sexy display before them.

Leah was giving off the strongest fuck me vibes he’d ever seen—so strong he almost missed the last chorus starting up again, causing him to jump back into the dance a few steps behind the other men.

When the song came to its end, it was followed by She Doesn’t Mind by Sean Paul. Despite the odd change of pace, it was a perfect follow up to the previous song because all the boys dragged their girls flush to them. Caleb had found himself a partner in one of the single girls who’d scored an invite and was completely absorbed by her. It was a good thing because the way Leah turned her back to Sy and ground her ass against him was downright salacious.

“What do I gotta do to get ya all to myself for a while?” he murmured just loud enough for her to overhear over the music. She looked back at him over her shoulder, biting her lip.

“Go get a couple of drinks and meet me around the front.”

Leah reluctantly pulled away, heading inside as Sy watched her walk away. He collected a few beers as well as two sports drinks. He was not the type to tell a woman when she’d had enough but he also didn’t want Leah blackout drunk for whatever came next so he preferred having the option along just in case.

When he walked around to the front, Leah had retrieved her backpack from the bedroom and was stuffing something inside. She held out a hand for the drinks, dropping them in the bag and zipping it up.

“Where are we goin’?”

Leah smirked as she straightened. “Up.”

Sy’s gaze moved up the facade of the cabin all the way to the roof. “What is it with you and rooftops?”

“It started because I liked climbing things that weren’t supposed to be climbed. I kept it up because it was a good way to escape and clear my head.”

Leah jumped up, catching the rafter with both hands. She lifted her legs, hooking one knee over her opposite elbow and using the hold to free the weight from her other hand. Catching the vertical post, she switched her footing again to plant down on the bottom rafter and heave her other leg over the rooftop. Sy was too impressed by her skills for his attention to linger on the flash of skin caused by the movement of the skirt of her dress.

“You know I’m not gonna be able to do all that.”

Leah laughed as she reached a hand out. Sy raised the bag over his head, not wanting her to reach down and lose her balance as she gave him instructions. “Just do a muscle up and lift your leg onto the beam.”

“Why didn’t you do that?”

“Because the other way looked cooler.”

“You sure this old thing will hold my weight?”

“I could get you a ladder if you don’t think you can climb.”

That was the perfect thing to say to get him to stop asking questions and start climbing. It was lucky that his five day break was the longest he’d gone without a workout in over ten years. He did as suggested, easily pushing himself over the beam.

The porche’s frame was a triangular shape with a wooden beam going from the center of the main beam to the peak and two more going outward at an angle. He planted a foot and caught the center beam like Leah had and hefted his weight over the edge. He was much less graceful as he rolled onto the roof but at least he didn’t break his face.

Getting down would be much easier since the lowest point of the angled roof was only about eight feet off the ground.

Leah had unrolled a thick wool blanket above where the stone chimney sat, presumably so that they wouldn’t risk slipping off. It was by the front of the house where the living room was so they were out of sight from the people out back.

“I can see why you like this,” Sy said, stretching out on the blanket next to Leah and looking up at the unobstructed view of the night sky. It reminded him of summers back home in Georgia.

Without the trees’ protection from the wind or the fire, it was much colder but it seemed Leah had planned for everything. Pulling a second blanket over them both, Leah stretched out halfway over Sy with her head resting on his chest.

“I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

“What, ya never dated anyone who could do a muscle up?”

Leah shifted to put a hand on his chest and laid her chin over top. “I meant the cabin in general but you might actually be right about the muscle up thing.”

Sy folded his arm behind his head, propping himself up so he could meet her gaze. His gorgeous blue eyes were normally framed with dark circles and frown lines, a consequence of the hard lifestyle he led, but now his expression was softer, filled with fondness.

“Good. Ya looked fuckin’ sexy out there tonight, I don’t like the idea of anyone else gettin’ to see my girl like that. This outfit has been drivin’ me crazy all night.” His hand found her thigh, threatening to slip under her dress.

Until she met Sy, Leah had never thought she would find possessiveness attractive but his statement lit a spark of excitement within her. It was the same feeling she got whenever he praised her or said the words ‘good girl’. It was just another thing to add to the list of conflicting feelings she had towards sex.

She didn’t have much experience but she was pretty sure that made her submissive in some way though she wasn’t sure how that made any sense. Her knowledge of the subject was limited to what she’d read in books and those dom/sub relationships had all heavily revolved around sex.

“Hey…” Sy’s fingers tracing Leah’s brow pulled her out of her head. “Where’d you go just now? Your entire body went stiff as a board.” As if to prove his point, Sy put his hands on the back of her neck, using gentle pressure to knead the tension from her muscles. “Did I do something wrong?”

She hated that his honest question made her feel guilty for causing him to worry. That was another thing Leah had never realized until she met Sy. Her previous relationships had messed her up more than she ever thought they had. 

“Leah, look at me.” That was his ‘captain’ voice—low and assertive. Leah had no choice but to obey. “You made me a promise,” he reminded her.

“No,” Leah licked her lips before pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hoping he was reading her body language correctly, Sy slid his hand from Leah’s nape to her throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, only keeping a light hold that could easily be broken.

“You like when I call ya mine?”

She swallowed thickly, her throat moving against his palm before nodding.

Keeping his hand in place but being careful not to jostle her, Sy rolled Leah onto her back. 

They were nose to nose as he spoke. “I got the impression you were in a particular mood earlier when you offered to let me check your panties. Am I right?”

“Yeah.”

“You still feeling the same way?”

“Yes.”

Getting to his knee, Sy took the blanket from where it had fallen as he flipped Leah over and quickly folded it up to tuck it under her as a pillow. He planted his hands on either side of her head, holding his body off her.

“Do you wanna take orders like a good girl or would you rather take the lead?”

“The first one.”

“Okay, then I need you to tell me exactly what you want. Where I can touch you, how much clothing comes off, how far you want to go.”

Sy was pleased that Leah took a few seconds to reflect on her answer, giving him confidence that she wasn’t pushing herself past her limits to please him.

“Clothes can fully come off. Legs, ass and everything above the belt is safe to touch however you enjoy. I’m not sure about oral but hands for sure.”

Lowering himself down, Sy placed a series of kisses down her jaw. “Thank you.”

Leah turned her head, capturing Sy’s lips in a sensual kiss. When she began to lift the hem of his shirt, Sy caught her wrist.

“Don’t wait for me to check in to tell me you don’t like something. You’re trusting me to stick to your limits and I’m trusting you to tell me if they change.” Sitting back on his haunches, he let go of her wrist. “Take my shirt off.”

The cold wasn’t a concern for Sy but he didn’t know if his body heat would be enough to keep Leah warm so he didn’t want to undress her just yet.

She didn’t seem in a rush either, studying his body as her fingers explored his skin. Unlike the first time she’d touched his stomach, her touch didn’t cause anxiety to spark in his chest. He hadn’t expected for it to feel freeing for her to know the story behind his scars and for her to accept it but it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

When Leah sat up, Sy expected for her to pull her dress off but, instead, she slid a hand to the small of his back, holding him close as she placed gentle pecks along his collar bone. Her movements were tender, almost reverent as she worked her way over both shoulders before moving up to tease his neck with open-mouthed kisses.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the receiving end of this kind of affection. Maybe even never.

It felt amazing. How had he made it over fourteen years without ever realizing his neck was that sensitive?

The soft scratch of her teeth as she nipped his throat pulled an audible groan from him, leading her to move her hand up to hold him in place as she repeated the action with more force. His head fell to the side in a silent message for her to do with him as she pleased so she took the opportunity to lock her lips over his pulse point and suck.

Eyes tightly shut, Sy relished the slight sting of his blood being drawn to the surface. With how badly his cock was throbbing, it was hard to imagine there was even any left to leave a mark but when Leah finally lifted her head, she made a pleased sound at the sight of the newly formed hickey.

“You like seein’ your mark on me, baby?” Sy’s hands gripped both of her thighs, possessively kneading her flesh. “You like knowin’ that I’m yours as much as you’re mine?”

For someone who was not normally a big talker, Sy was surprisingly proficient at dirty talk. It was still quite tame all things considered but it still made her heart race.

“Yes.”

Looking down at her spread legs, Sy caught sight of the black lines poking out from the skirt of Leah’s dress.

“Lay back,” he ordered, taking a moment to undo his pants and give himself a bit of relief. “It’s my turn.”

Her breath hitched as she obeyed both from the arousal brought on by his command and the worry of what Sy might do next.

Sensing the shift in her body, Sy made his intentions clear. “I want to see your tattoos up close. I wanna memorize how each one fits your curves just right.”

He dragged the hem of her dress upwards, pausing only long enough for Leah to lift her hips and allow the fabric to pool around her stomach.

With the clear night sky and the distant glow of the bonfire, Sy could clearly see the intricate patterns dancing across Leah’s creamy skin, only obstructed by her underwear.

“Can you take these off for me, darlin’?”

She’d already said that clothing could fully come off but he was about to get up close and personal with her thighs and he didn’t want her to feel over-exposed. He was giving her the option to refuse but she didn’t take it, simply working them down her legs at what felt like a torturously slow pace.

Sy could see the glistening of her arousal at her apex and he made a mental note to ask her about that later. She’d been clear the night before that she wouldn’t want Sy to reciprocate if they did something intimate but she hadn’t said if that meant that she didn’t want to come at all or simply not by his hand.

For now, he turned his focus back to his task and traced her ink with his lips. Once he finished exploring her right leg, he moved to her other side, being mindful not to touch the fresh tattoo with his hands or his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for it to get infected and cause problems once they got back.

“Fuck babygirl, you are so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled as he pushed the dress higher and made his way up Leah’s stomach, seeking out her final tattoo. “Nothing I imagined over the last months even came close to the real thing.”

With her dress completely removed and her bra following soon after, Leah was left in only her long socks and the look was way sexier than it had any right to be. It somehow simultaneously looked innocent and dirty and Sy couldn’t help picturing Leah kneeling for him in that same outfit.

He’d never ventured into BDSM further than giving the occasional order during sex but if Leah was amenable, he’d take great pleasure in learning what they both liked.

As Sy gazed down at Leah with obvious adoration, all Leah could think was how lucky she was. She wanted to express her happiness but her stupid feelings left a giant lump in her throat and the words just wouldn’t come so instead she tugged on Sy’s beard and brought his lips to hers.

It was nothing like the gentle caress they’d previously shared. This kiss was dirty and frantic like they were both afraid that the other would disappear at any moment.

Needing to give his aching dick some relief, Sy palmed his crotch over his underwear but it only seemed to make him more desperate.

“What should I do with this, baby?” he asked when they both took a second to catch their breaths. “You wanna watch me get myself off or do you wanna help?”

“Help.”

“Then take me out,” he growled, removing his hand to lift his body into a push-up position.

Leah slid his underwear and jeans over the curve of his ass. When she couldn’t reach any farther, she pushed them the rest of the way down with her foot. They got caught around his ankles since neither of them had taken the time to remove their shoes but it was good enough.

Sy could have wept when Leah finally wrapped her hand around his erection. Despite coming just a few hours earlier, Sy already felt like he was teetering on the edge and about to tip over at any moment.

Forehead to forehead, they both watched with rapt attention as Leah’s hand moved up and down his shaft. Then, in a completely unexpected but immensely arousing move, took her hand away just long enough to collect the wetness that pooled at her entrance and use it as lube.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot.”

His head fell to the crook of her neck, his hot breath fanning her skin as he panted. With Sy’s shoulder presented so nicely, Leah didn’t think twice before sinking her teeth in the defined muscle. Cute aggression was a real thing. Tangling his fingers in her hair to keep her in place, Sy released a deep groan. 

It took all of thirty seconds afterwards for thick ropes of cum to paint Leah’s stomach. Sy’s entire body shivered as the pleasure coursed through him, the hand on his cock not stopping until it milked every last drop of his release.

Feeling boneless, Sy rolled onto his side before he collapsed over Leah and crushed her under his significantly heavier weight.

“Give me a second and I’ll find something to clean you up.”

He needed to recover from the out-of-body experience brought on by that orgasm because he had never come so hard in his entire fucking life. 

“There’s baby wipes in the bag.”

Sy huffed a laugh. “Life of a soldier.”

Reaching behind him, Sy retrieved the bag and found the plastic packet at the very bottom along with meal replacement bars, a knife, a flint and a paracord bracelet.

“What kind of kinky shit did you have planned for us up here?” he teased, pulling out one of the wipes and diligently cleaning Leah’s stomach and chest.

“That’s my cabin bag,” she defended, “those things are always in there.” She had to admit that with a bit of creativity,  those items would, indeed, make for some kinky love-making.

“Hand,” he requested as he pulled a fresh wipe from the pack.

Once he had finished with Leah, Sy took care of himself and set the soiled wipes aside to be dealt with later. He pulled his pants back up but left his shirt off for the moment. 

Leah followed his lead, redressing before pulling their drinks out of the bag.

“How long have we got before they come looking for ya?”

“They won’t really be looking for us unless one of them is about to leave but I’d like to go spend a bit more time with them before the evening is over.”

“Of course,” Sy agreed, shuffling around so he sat with Leah between his legs and wrapped them both in the soft blanket.

They stayed that way until they had finished their beers then Leah showed Sy the best foot holds on the stone chimney to help them climb down a few feet before having to jump the rest of the way.

Valentina shot Leah a knowing wink as they rejoined the dancers while the boys glared at Sy when they noticed his neck but none of them attempted to punch him in the face so he considered it a win

There were only a few people left by the time the fire had almost fully died down, most of the people having carpooled to have a designated driver. Everyone had pitched in to clean the yard so all that was left to do was load the speakers back into Camden’s car and fold up the remaining lawn chairs that had been arranged around the fire pit.

The music’s volume had been lowered to serve as background sound for the quiet conversation. Leah was falling asleep on Sy’s lap, bundled in one of his hoodies, but she refused to go to bed until all her friends had gone home.  In the end, Sy had to carry a sleeping Leah to bed under Caleb’s watchful eye.

Out of habit, Sy walked Caleb to his car as if it were his own home. Before getting in, he offered Sy his hand to shake.

“I was planning on meeting Leah for lunch next week. I hope you can join us.”

Sy clasped Caleb’s hand in his. “I’ll be there.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill #cpt syverson #cpt syverson fic #cpt syverson fanfiction #cpt syverson fanfic #cpt syverson x ofc #captain syverson x ofc

[j-elaine-hyde]

Then - Part One

[Prequel to Now & Then] Captain Syverson x Reader

Fluff, 18+ just because, WC: 3,100 exactly.

“Y/n… hurry up! Fuck!” Randy yelled from the kitchen. Randy was kind of an asshole.

You scrambled to put on your apron before grabbing a tray full of glasses, balancing it on your way to the back. You were new and trying your best. Thankfully the VFW wasn’t too terribly busy yet. That, and the regulars were almost always nice to you.

You had taken this job out of desperation. You’d been living on a friends couch and trying to get your feet underneath you. The manager was a friend of yours and knew the old men who patronized the bar would love you. “You’re pretty… and smart. You’ll give those old timers a run for their money.” He said.

By the second month you already had quite a few regulars coming in on your shifts just to see you. You talked with them, listened to their stories, and respected what they had done for our country. Not many people your age really got it or understood. But you did. They appreciated that.

It was a quiet Thursday night, only a few regular members were hanging out. A table full of guys played cards while you walked through taking their empties.

“Y/n… I have someone I want you to meet.” Charlie, one of your favorite regulars began, “He’s a very good man.”

Wilbur chimed in, “Don’t do it toots… he’s short!”

“He is not! Logans tall! So tall! And smart. He’s very smart.” Charlie retorted.

“I don’t know kid… sounds too good to be true. Tall and smart?” Arthur laughed as he shuffled the cards.

Frank couldn’t resist, “I bet he’s ugly.”

You were laughing as the old men discussed your potential suitor. Whom you had no intention of meeting in the first place.

“Shut it Frank. He’s not ugly. He’s a good lookin kid. He’s tall, he’s smart. He’s a good man. He’s a soldier. A captain.” Charlie looked around the table mean mugging the other men, almost daring them to speak up.

You smiled, “Oh Charlie… I don’t really have time -“

He interrupted you, “Just meet him. Be nice to him. That’s all I’m asking. Smile at him.”

“What’s in it for you Charlie?” Wilbur questioned scratching his bald head.

“Nothing. I just wanna see these two kids happy. They’re both good kids. That’s rare these days.” Charlie patted your hand as you grabbed his empty glass.

“Thank you Charlie. That’s very sweet of you but-“

Charlie smiled, “Don’t say another word. He’ll be here in about five minutes.”

Panic spread through your entire body, “Charlie… You didn’t… Are you serious?”

‘Of course I’m serious. Why would I joke about something like that? You look great kid…. Don’t worry about it. You’ll knock his socks off!”

“Ya know… on second thought, maybe run a brush through your hair and throw on a little lippy.” Frank chimed in.

“Thanks Frank. I’ll remember you said that.”

He grumbled and muttered in response, “I’m just trynna be helpful.”

You ran your tray back to the bar and ducked into the restroom. You didn’t necessarily want to meet this guy Charlie was trying to set you up with, but you also didn’t want to look bad either. What if he was a nice handsome guy? Those don’t just drop out of the sky. And a marine? You did love a man in uniform. Just maybe not the ones you were surrounded by nowadays.

Looking yourself over in the mirror you reached into your purse and pulled out some eyeliner, re-did your mascara and put on some cherry chapstick. You pulled hair out of its elastic and fluffed it. You tried remembering how many days it’d been since you’d washed it and if it was clean enough to get away with wearing it down. Thankfully it was and having had it up in the elastic gave it a nice bit of volume. As you looked yourself over in the mirror, you sighed looking at your reflection. ‘This will have to do.’ You thought as you adjusted your tank top and hiked up your shorts ever so slightly. ‘That’s better.’

You heard the door chime and took a deep breath. Rushing out of the bathroom and chucking your purse back behind the bar as you plastered a warm smile on your face only to see Sid, one of your cantankerous regulars.

“The usual Sid?” You hollered at the slow moving gentleman with the cane.

“A course… what else would it be! I’m 82 years old… you think I’m gonna change it up now?!”

You swore yelling at you kept him moving. His grumpiness gave him the energy he needed to function. You poured a domestic beer from the tap and carried it over to the card game as the gentleman shuffled their seats groaning and grumbling as they welcomed Sid to the table.

“You changed your hair!” Arthur barked as you sat Sid’s drink in front of him. “What’d you do that for? I thought you said you weren’t interested in Charlie’s boy?”

“Who’s not interested?” A deep gruff southern accent belonging to someone much younger than the standard clientele asked.

You stood up straight, eyes wide, your back facing the sexy sounding stranger.

Charlie winked at you and gave you a thumbs up. Frank froze and very slowly gave you the ‘ok’ symbol, looking extremely obvious. While you were fairly certain he was trying to be nonchalant.

“Logan! You’re here! We’ll deal you in. This is Y/n. Y/n is a very nice girl. Be nice to her. She’ll get you a drink.” Charlie smiled warmly at the both of you.

You spun around as Logan reached out and touched your elbow. Expecting someone smaller you had to look up at him. He was huge. He was well over six foot and broad chested. He was thick and muscular. If there was ever a man built like a mountain it was him. He was bearded and wore a ball cap, his tee shirt was tight and accentuated his muscles. His jeans fit perfectly. You felt butterflies and heat as you looked up at him.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Logan.”

Your mouth went dry. You blinked at him, staring at his giant outstretched hand.

“Get with it kid.” Wilbur whispered, cracking a smile on your face.

“Hi I’m Y/n. What can I get you?”

“A date!” Frank chimed in.

“Take her to dinner!” Sid coughed.

Y/n pursed your lips and and closed your eyes. You opened them slowly as you started to walk towards the bar. Logan followed you.

“I wonder if they want us to go on a date…” he smirked.

“How can you tell? They’re very subtle.” You felt at ease with him. You also felt a fire start in your belly that radiated through your entire body.

“I’ll say one thing…Charlie definitely under sold you. You’re gorgeous. He said you were nice to look at.. he didn’t tell me I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off of you.” Logan was laying it on thick.

“Wow. Um… thank you.”

“What time do you get off? I’d like to buy you… a drink.”

“You realize that’s funny, because I’m the bartender, right…” you winked at him as you poured a Budweiser draft into a glass, before sliding it to him.

“How did you know?” He looked at you confused as he took a sip.

“It’s a talent. A completely useless one. But a talent, nonetheless.”

“What time do you get off?” He repeated himself, moving closer.

You could smell him. His cologne swirled with his manly woodsy scent. It was heaven. The closer he got the faster your heart beat.

You licked her lips, “In about ten minutes…” you smiled at him as he quickly looked at his watch.

“Perfect.”

———

The two of you sat at a quiet table in a far corner for the last two hours talking nonstop. The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks. The old men watched on with approval, Charlie smarting the rest of his friends, proud that he had made a successful match.

Logan was gorgeous. His deep ocean blue eyes were mesmerizing. You kept staring at his plump lips unable to help imagining what it would be like to kiss them. To feel them on your skin. You stared, awestruck at his immense size. You wanted to climb him like a tree. You also had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t have minded in the slightest.

Charlie came over, patting Logan on the back. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m headed out. You kids have fun tonight.”

You jumped up and hugged Charlie tight. “Thank you Charlie.” You whispered in his ear.

He winked back at you and tapped the side of his nose. Logan stood up and shook his hand. You both told him goodnight and goodbye as he shuffled out of the bar.

“I love him. He’s my favorite. But don’t tell the others I said so.” You laughed as you crossed your arms on the table and pushed your cleavage forward.

Logan smiled at you, “I think you’re his favorite too. He’s been telling me about you since you started.”

“What? He has?” You were legitimately completely surprised.

Logan nodded, “Oh yeah. The first night you worked he called me. ‘Logan!” He barked, doing his best Charlie impression, “Logan there’s this new girl at the V. She’s a hot ticket.”

You laughed, “what does that even mean?”

“I have no clue.” He laughed.

His laughter was music to your ears. You could tell by the way he carried himself that what you were witnessing was a rarity. You knew he wasn’t like this with anyone else. He was serious and stern. Manly and in charge. He was a hard ass. You didn’t know why you got to see this side of him, but you loved it.

“Logan. You have to come down to the V. He’d say… she’s built well. Super sweet. You have to come down and meet her before one of the old geezers sets her up with somebody else.’ I loved when he called them old geezers.” Logan smiled as he told you things Charlie had said to him.

Logan zoned out staring at your lips as you laughed.

“What?” You searched his face for answers.

“You’re very beautiful. Your lips are…” he reached out and thumbed your lower lip.

“Kiss her already.” Both you and Logan jumped. They had been too wrapped up staring at each other to notice Frank had marched over. “Don’t let me interrupt. Y/n. I need quarters and Bob is too busy.”

“Sure thing Frank. I’ll be right back.” You took his five dollars and went to the bar.

“We might be old. And you might be the size of a Rhino… but that’s our girl. You better treat her right, you hear me sonny?”

“Yes sir. I hear you.” Logan nodded and shook his hand.

You came back with his quarters in a cup. You rattled it before handing it to him. “Here you are Frank. Can I get you anything else?”

“I’m good doll face. Get back to making eyes at the Rhino.” He waved over his head as he hobbled back to his table.

“Did he just call you a Rhino?” You burst out laughing trying to be quiet about it.

“He did. And to be honest, I’m a little afraid of him.” Logan raised his eyebrows as he pretended to watch his back. “Do you play darts?”

“I do… not well. But I play.” As you looked at him you had to fight the overwhelming urge to lunge forward and wrap your arms around his neck. All you wanted to do was touch him.

“Maybe I can help you. We can wager if you’d like. Might play a little better with some skin in the game.” He looked at you with a curious glance.

“What’ll it be? $20?”

“No. Money is boring. If I win… you have to do tequila shots with me.” He looked up at with only his eyes, it sent shockwaves through you.

“And if I win?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We’ll see.”

You laughed loudly at his response. “Oh ye of little faith. I’ll get the darts.”

You marched defiantly up to the bar to retrieve the darts. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you the entire way. You might have added a little extra swing to your hips than normal. Once at the bar you filled another beer for Logan and watched as he lumbered over to the scoreboard and began cleaning it. You liked the way he ran the room even when he wasn’t trying.

You swallowed hard as you watched him, looking at the ceiling and whispering another ‘Thank you Charlie’ into the universe.

“You’re going down chump!” You postured as you handed him his beer with a smile.

He shook his head and smiled down at you. “Bring it beautiful… let’s see how you do.” He was itching for a reason to touch you. He found his first excuse when you stepped over the line. He reached out and pulled you back by your hips. “Ahh ahh ahhh… over the line sweetheart.”

You looked over your shoulder at him, a grin across your face. “I should get a handicap. You’re enormous.”

Instead of releasing you he moved closer, leaving his hands where they were. Your back pressed to his chest, you craned around to smile at him. Feeling the heat radiate off of his body made you want to shed his clothes. While you were thinking of him, he was breathing in your perfume.

“I’m going to leave you here. Trusting that you won’t go over the line this turn…” he whispered to you before dramatically removing his hands from your waist and backing away. You rolled your eyes in response as you threw the dart.

It was the nearing the end of the game and Logan was most certainly in the lead. You had both been finding reasons to touch each other. You were smiling and laughing and having fun. Anyone watching could tell you were both smitten.

“Listen here beautiful… I’m about two throws away from those body shots. You ready?”

Your mouth dropped open, “Body shots?” You locked your eyes on his, a mischievous grin growing in response.

“Yea. I said tequila shots. That’s body shots. I get to take them off of you, and I get to pick where you take them off of me… that was the bet.”

You laughed, “was that in the uh… fine print?”

“You didn’t read it?” He winked.

“Always skip it… bites me in the ass every time.”

He moved in close, whispering in your ear, “Babygirl… you gotta read the fine print…”

You blushed as he brushed passed you on his way to the line. You watched as the muscles in his arm flexed at the simple motion of throwing a dart. You text the bartender asking for tequila shots. You had a plan.

The waitress delivered the shots and he smiled and nodded at her, thanking her. You reached out and grabbed his left arm, holding his wrist in one hand and the salt shaker in the other, slowly you licked the inside of his forearm and sprinkled salt. You picked up the lime and gingerly placed it between his lips.

“If you’ll be so kind, I have a shot to take.” You seductively smiled at him as he nodded.

You placed a sloppy sucking kiss on his arm where the salt was placed, downed your shot and pulled him in for a kiss, biting the lime out of his lips you quickly sucked it and dropped it out of your mouth, pulling him back in to continue the kiss. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist pulling your body tight against his. He deepened the kiss, moving a single hand down to your butt, palming it firmly with his giant hand.

You pulled back, breaking the kiss, and smiled at him, your arms still around his neck. “Its your turn.”

“This is a sticky predicament… I could go cliche and put my shot glass between your fantastic tits…and lick your neck as my salt…” he trailed off. “But where to put the lime…” he whispered in your ear as he nuzzled your neck, brushing his lips against your pulse point.

You felt your head swim at his close proximity, almost feeling faint.

He took the shot without salt, without lime. He grabbed you and leaned you back, pulling you in for a kiss, dipping you down before standing you back on your feet and patting you on the butt.

The waitress came by for the empty glasses. “Last call sugar… You two want anything else before I close out?”

You shook her head ‘no’, “Thanks Maggie.” You tried to come back down to Earth.

“Sure thing sugar. Looks like you two had fun!”

Logan sat down and pulled you onto his lap. “Did you have fun tonight babygirl?”

You turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I sure did. Did you hon?”

“Nights not over yet baby…” he smirked and patted your rear.

“Logan… we just closed down the bar…”

He held out his forearm and pointed to the spot where you licked/kissed him. “See that spot right there?”

“Yeah… that’s where I kissed you.”

“That’s the first place you ever placed those gorgeous lips… and I never want to forget as long as I live.”

You leaned down and kissed it again.

“I'm going to tattoo that on my arm. I know a guy… let’s pay him a visit.” Logan placed two hundred dollars on the table in cash and bounced his knee. You stood up looking at him with a slightly confused stare.

“You’re…you’re g-gonna what?” You stammered.

“We are going to get your lips, tattooed on my arm. Right here. Tonight. You wanna go?”

You laughed and squinted at him, trying to see if he was serious. “Oh you’re serious…” you looked at him sideways.

“As a heart attack. Let’s go, baby. Right now.” He reached out and grabbed your wrist, placing a sweet kiss in your palm, and moving to place a second on your wrist. You looked up at him, an unfamiliar feeling in your chest. Taking your hand in his he led you out of the bar.

To Be Continued...

#captain syverson #cpt syverson #syverson fic #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #syverson x you #romance #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #henry cavill

[ten-cent-sleuth]

2023-12-06 EDIT: This event has flopped and been cancelled. Kindly ignore my having tried and failed to make this happen. I am embarrassed, humiliated, mortified, etc. etc. Lol, happy holidays! Can’t wait to see what fics y’all have in store for us in 2024. <3

Hey, Henry Cavill fans!

Are you interested in filling a prompt for someone while someone else fills a prompt for you? Do you want to participate in a Secret Santa with your Tumblr mutuals—or maybe find some new ones?

Then consider joining the first ever Cavillry Secret Santa! You can sign up via this GForm, and once you’ve done so, I’ll add you to the GSheet for prompts. The idea is you input three gift requests, and your Secret Santa will write for one (or more) of them. More information available on the Form!

If you are hesitant to join, feel free to peek at the prompts here. Anybody can view the spreadsheet, but you can only edit it once you’ve signed up and agreed to the rules.

Should this get big and we decide to do this again next year, I’ll probably make a separate blog for the event. But since this may very well flop, I’ll run everything from my personal Tumblr for now. So send in your doubts and uncertainties to my askbox! If you want me to answer privately, ask off anon and let me know that you don’t want me to post it publicly. :)

The prompts sheet will close at midnight UTC on 5 November 2023, so sign up asap! (You don’t have to have your prompts ready right away—just sign up first if you’re interested! You can always come back to the prompts sheet and edit your requests, and if you change your mind about joining at all after signing up, you can leave your prompts row blank.) I’m sorry for making this so last-minute guys hrjfbsjfh. If you would be willing to be a pinch hitter but don’t want to commit to the full event, you can sign up on the Form as well. And if you, participant or not, would like to be tagged with event updates, just let me know in the comments!

Please signal boost! Reblog this even if you’re not going to join… Share the link to this post and/or to the sign-up Form with your friends… The more participants, the more I can shuffle who’s whose Secret Santa, the more fun this’ll be!

Note: You don’t have to be “big” in the Henry Cavill fandom to participate. Heck, the moderator of this event (yours truly) has literally only ever published ONE Henry Cavill fic before and only has a few Tumblr followers. This is for the well known writers with long masterlists AND for the small blogs with (next to) no experience AND for everyone in between! <3

[For revisiting ease: link to sign up … link to view the prompts]

#cavillry #the cavillry #henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #x reader #fic exchange #gift exchange #secret santa fandom event #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #geralt x reader #captain syverson #cpt syverson #syverson #syverson x reader #august walker #august walker x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #superman #superman x reader #clark kent #clark kent x reader #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #walter marshall #walter marshall x reader

[viking-raider]

This is some Syverson energy! He'd so know how to open his belt with one hand.

It also itches that Muse I got a year ago, where Sy is a Lumberjack, (the family business), after he gets out of the Army, and falls in love with Reader, who's an Environmentalist, protesting at the site Sy is felling trees.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #Syverson #captain syverson #cpt syverson #Lumberjack #bradley.thor - Instagram

[missacidburn928]

Chapter 2 Part I, now up on ao3

The Way That You Kiss Me When I'm Drinking Whiskey... Part I

#captain syverson smut #captain syverson x you #captain syverson fic #captain syverson x reader #cpt syverson #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #syverson smut #syverson x you #captain syverson #syverson fic #bucky barnes x reader #poc reader #bucky x you

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Shape-Up

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Cpt Syverson x Black!Reader

Fandom: Sand Castle

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Warnings: Daddy kink, creampie, unprotected p-in-v, pregnancy sex, wasted sandwiches

A/N: There is a really good Syverson Spotify playlist I listened to for this. It was dope. Also, this is my first time writing Sy, so please, be kind. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist

“Peaches!” 

You can hear the shout and start making your way upstairs finding your husband in the bathroom. 

“There they are!” He coos, kissing your cheek before sliding his hand across your slightly pregnant belly.

“Baby, I’m only at three months! There’s barely a baby yet,” you giggle, secretly loving how Sy has become so sweet suddenly.

“Hey, girl, you’re carrying my baby. Let me be cute, alright?” he insists, kissing your forehead, “Or if you want, I can trim my beard myself. I know you hate doing that for me,” he jests, enjoying the expression change on your face.

“Oh, come on, you know I love trimming your beard, baby,” you whine, pushing out your bottom lip and giving puppy eyes for good measure.

“Fuck, you know what that does to me, Peaches. That mouth of yours got us into this whole situation, ya know?” he jokes, gesturing to your belly. 

You feign confusion and Sy rolls his eyes, and you think he is unable to see the sly smile you are hiding as he turns away.

“You do know there is a mirror in front of you, right?” he warns, and you meet his eyes in the reflective surface, “I saw that smile. You think you slick, Peaches?”

“Daaaaaddy, come on. You know we technically were planning around this time to start a family,” you gushed, pulling him close by his beard, “Plus, how cute is this belly gonna look in all them damn sundresses you like so much?”

“What can I say? You have the curves that make a sundress a thing of beauty, Peaches. Just thinking about this lil bump adding another curve to you is doing something to me,” he flirts, his hands wandering over your hips.

“You are too much, sometimes. I love that you can’t get enough of me. But damn, I just took care of you this morning, Daddy,” you insist, trying to jog his memory of having you over the kitchen table.

You watch as the memory plays again across his face, and you can’t help but smile.

He has his beard-trimming kit out on the counter and you have him sit on the toilet and comb out his beard while he watches your face. He pauses, pulling out his phone, and suddenly ‘Just the Two of Us’ is playing.

“Our song!” you beam, smiling at your man.

“We might need a new song soon. It’s gonna be more than two of us. Us versus this lil menace,” Sy laughs, his hand going to your belly.

“I mean, this baby is half-you, so it’s gotta be at least 50% menace. You are right about that,” you agree, reaching for the clippers, “Now, hush up so I can get started, Sy.”

“You only call me Sy when you’re serious, so I’ll hush up this time,” he mutters, lifting his chin so you have better access to his neck.

Luckily, you have done this enough times that it is almost muscle memory at this point. Taking care of the neckline. Shaping up the frontline. Trimming what strays pop up from combing. It’s like an art form, beard trimming. You get lost in it every time.

“I’m almost done, can you play ‘Simple Man’?” you ask, getting in the zone.

“You got it, Peaches,” he says, leaning away to choose the song on his phone, coming back to where you are holding the smaller clippers.

You get back to work, holding his chin up so you can get any spots you missed. Turning his face this way and that, you are finally happy with your work. You were even able to work in a fade to the beard which isn’t his usual style. But when his usual style is basically human Wookie, it’s hard not to want to kick it up a notch.

You step away and let him get up to check out your work in the mirror. “So, how do you like it, Daddy?”

“I love it, Peaches. Damn, I’m looking kinda sexy,” he praised, running his hands over his beard.

“You are looking damn sexy, Daddy,” you flirt, landing a hand on his ass, “Now hit the showers and I’ll have lunch ready in no time.” You scamper out of the bathroom before he can get his arms around you. By the look of lust on his face, you’re lucky you got away.

You hear Sy’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and you hit play on the kitchen speaker. ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ starts to play as he rounds the corner and he gets a fantastic view of what you’re wearing.

The “Proud Army Brat” apron that Sy got you as a gag gift is on you, as well as nothing else. Well, nothing else but a smile, as you hold up his favorite lunch. BLT with a pickle spear and kettle chips. 

“You are so fucking perfect,” he mused, grabbing the sandwich from your hands and placing it on the dining table, “Can I have you instead of the sandwich, Peaches?”

“I’d be lying if I said ‘I thought you’d never ask’,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

You two lazily kiss and dance to the song until it ends and Sy picks you up, You wrap your legs around him. He walks to the living room and kneels in front of the couch, as to set you down to sit on the couch.

Once you are seated, his hands go to your thighs, spreading you open. ‘Kashmir’ starts to play on the kitchen speaker, and if this was pre-baby you would be lighting up a joint to share. But the kind of pleasure you are about to get makes a joint sound like a high-five.

Sy sinks right into your pussy, lips sucking your clit as one hand rests on your belly and the other finds its way through your folds. You moan and place your hands behind Sy’s head, beckoning him even closer to you. 

“Fuck, Daddy, you eat pussy like a god,” you breathed, catching his eye as he licks his lips.

“Damn right, Peaches. I love eating this pussy and you know why?” he quizzes, his thumbs running little circles around your clit.

“Because it’s yours, Daddy,” you groan, grinding your hips for any kind of friction you can get.

“Yes, Peaches. It’s all mine,” he growls, pushing his shorts down so his heavy cock pops free, “Daddy is gonna fuck this pussy now, ok baby?”

“Yes, please, Daddy, fuck me. I’m ready,” you gush, ready to be filled by him.

He takes the tip of his dick and collects some of your moisture, tapping the head against your clit so you moan for him. He lines himself up and pushes in, and you both hiss at the feeling. 

“Fuck, Peaches! This pussy is so good, almost too good, baby,” he grunts, holding on to your thighs and pounding into you. He continues to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you.

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy,” you whimper, legs shaking as your orgasm overtakes you.

“That’s my good girl, Peaches. Daddy’s right behind you, baby. Daddy’s right there. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuck,” he babbles as he empties inside you, his poor brain is pretty much gone at this point. But he still has the faculties in order to pull out and kiss up your belly, as if praising you. He picks you up easily, carrying you back up the steps and into the bedroom. He helps to wipe you down and undress you.

You are already half-asleep when you feel Sy wrapping his arms around you. “Sleep for now, Peaches, then we can try to eat again. No promises that it won’t end up exactly like breakfast and lunch but I’ll try my best.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too, Peaches.”

Follow-up to this story: My Little Strawberry

**Tag List**

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@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁

[General Fanfiction (Everything), Henry Fanfiction, August Walker, Bright Like The Moon]

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #cpt syverson #syverson x reader #syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #syverson x you #syverson smut