#cpt. syverson x ofc

[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.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| 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.

.

Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

[peyton-warren]

Okay sorry last one!

Sy knows that you’ve been ignoring your health. (Brushing teeth, showering, eating properly, sleeping properly) but he’s been pleasing you every chance the two of you get.

Could be because you’re with him or you just have been busy, but you get a toothache and he takes you to the base dentist or a regular dentist. It’s something simple like just a stuck popcorn shell or something like that. Or maybe you pass out. Idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

He decides that if you want to cum again, you have to take better care of yourself. No grinding either. Every time you do, you suck him off while he teases you. Until you take better care of yourself. No orgasms

I might have taken this one a little off the track you set but we got back on it by the end. There is no smut there is a hell of suggestion at the end. I hope this is ok. And its a weeee bit longer than a drabble. Wrote this all by hand in the woods thanks for the prompt that resonated so much with me.

Characters: Gender Neutral reader, Captain Syverson Pairings: Sy x Reader Fandoms: Sandcastle, Henry Cavill characters Word count: 4111 Type: angst, suggestive Warning: 18+. Warnings: blood, Reader injured, discussion of domestic abuse, self depreciation, discussion of mental illness, daddy kink, potential eating disorder, tiny Daddy kink

Summary: Reader has to be taken to the hospital by their new-ish boyfriend Sy. Sy learns some things about his partner that has Reader worried about their future together.

Author's Note: I have no idea how a real ER works, nor proper medical procedures nor hospital policies.  I manipulated them for my own gain here.  Nor do I fully understand how blood sugars work or what the tests doctors use tell them about your eating habits.  Don't come after me if you know how they actually do work. Also thank you to @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta.

Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Banner by me with an assist by @ellethespaceunicorn Dividers by @cafekitsune

Dazed, you blinked your tired eyes open.  

“There they are,” Sy cooed softly, crouching next to you.  

You blinked again, trying

to focus.

He was next to you on his kitchen floor.  You stared up into the concerned blue eyes above you.

Oh right date night.  You two had been cooking dinner. 

“I didn't know you were afraid of blood,” he said with sincerity, no teasing or judgment in his tone.  

“I’m not,” you said defensively.  Then you realized the last thing you remembered was nicking your finger cutting up veggies and then nothing.  “What happened?” You asked.  

“You passed out,” he told you.  “I saw you waver out of the corner of my eye and caught you in time to keep you from hitting the deck,” he told you.  “How are you feeling?”

“Okay?”

“Just okay?  You think you can sit up?” He offered you a hand.  As you placed your palm in his, he carefully helped you into a sitting position, his other arm gently curving around your back, just in case.  “How’s that?” he asked, squeezing your hand.  

“Okay.  I think.”

“I don't like your uncertainty,” he admitted, softly, looking at you with a deeper concern.  “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No!” you shook your head vehemently, hating to cause him or anyone even a hit of inconvenience.  “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine, sweetheart,” he told you.  “You look like you have seen a ghost.  You're trembling and your palm hasn't stopped bleeding. We are going to the ER,” he insisted.  “Even if I have to hog tie you and throw you in the back of the truck.”

“Sy, I’m fine,” you tried again.  

Sy moved from you only briefly to grab a kitchen towel that read “Mama Tried,” and returned promptly to press it to your palm which you just now noticed is covered in blood.  “I didn’t think I cut it that bad,” you admitted.  You were unable to assess the damage before it was covered in flour sack material.  

“You jabbed it in there pretty good just before you went down.”  Sy pulled his phone from his pocket.  “Now are you willingly coming with me to the hospital? Or am I calling the squad?”

You knew your stubborn asshole of a boyfriend wasn't going to back down until you were properly checked out.  After a beat, a silence, just a split second before you were certain he was going to open his phone, you relented.   “Alright.”

He placed a hurried kiss to your forehead as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.  “Good.  Now put your other hand over the towel and I’ll get you to the truck.”

You scoffed at this.  “You are not carrying me to the truck,” you said.  “I’ll get myself out there.  Just get me off the damn floor.”

Sy chucked.  “There’s my sweetheart.  Hold the towel tight,” he insisted just before standing behind you and hooking his hands under your arm and effortlessly lifting you to your feet.  His hand held your upper arm tight as he rounded you and looked intently at your face.  “You al’ite?”

“I’m fine, Sy,” you ground out, done with being fussed over.  

With a single nod, he placed that hand to your lower back and gently guided you to the door. “Easy and gently,” he reminded you.  

“I’ll ‘easy and gently’ you.” You continued to be unhappy with his instance of treating you with such tender care.  You still were not used to dating a decent human being, unsure if you even deserved it.  If he knew how  you really were, maybe he’d throw you away, like all the other partners you had had over the years.

Sy, oblivious of your inner conflict, got you settled into the passenger seat and buckled you in.  “All set, baby?” 

You only nodded, still applying pressure to your cut palm.  He gave you a soft smile and carefully closed your door.  Took him all of two seconds before he was in the driver's seat and starting the engine.  “Let’s get you patched up.”

The drive to the local hospital was over within 20 minutes and was accomplished in silence.  You tried to ignore the new throb in your palm that appeared.  Sy had stopped you once from peeling back the towel by laying his hand over yours.  “You don't wanna do that.”

“I wanna see.”

“No you don’t.  Firstly it'll start bleeding again once you release the pressure,” he used his Captain voice, you knew his military training had kicked in.  “Secondly, I don't need you passing out again when you see it.”

You all but huffed at him.  “I am NOT afraid of blood.”

“You may not be, but you aren't gonna like the looks of that.”

You relented and gave a dramatic sigh.  “Aye, aye, Captain,” you said dryly.

Once you arrived at the hospital, and got through the headache of checking in, the two of you settled in the waiting room. Sy took your injured hand and put it on his thigh, taking over putting pressure on the injury.  You sat in further silence until a nurse called your name, less than 30 minutes later.  Sy kissed your temple and let you take your own hand back.  You both stand and head for the nurse who eyes you 6’4” shadow with suspicion.   “Just them,” the nurse states in a no nonsense voice.

“It's ok,” you reassure her.  “He’s with me.”

“Is he your emergency contact and/or spouse?” she asks you, and your stomach dropped at the thought of going in without Sy.  

“No,” you say in a small voice. 

“But ma’am-”

“Do not,” she cut Sy off.  “Policy is policy.  I don't make it,” she sternly stated.

“You are just the enforcer,” Sy finished for her in a very knowing voice.  

“You got it,” she beamed at him. “Have a seat.  They'll be out as soon as they’re done.”

You gave him a soft smile over your shoulder and mouthed ‘Sorry.’  He kissed your forehead.  “You’re in good hands,” he tried to sound calm for you.  You nodded and followed the scrubbed nurse into the ER.  The door closed behind you with a soft click, signaling it locked.  The nurse led you to a room, flipping the plastic flags over the door to whatever she needs to as you step in.  

“Have a seat on the bed,” she said in a softer tone than she had with Sy.  As she halfway pulled the curtain closed, you settled with your back on the upright position of the gurney.  She clicked at the computer near the bed.  “Laceration on your non-dominant palm.  How did it happen?” she asked, nodding to your hand as she reached for gloves from the rack on the wall. 

“Slipped while cooking dinner,” you offered, leaving out the part where you passed out.  

She eyed you before placing a hand on your wrist.  “Let me take a look.”  

You relinquished the towel which you now realize had a significant amount of blood on it. “Oh geez, I hope he can get that out.”

The nurse’s eyes flit back to your face.  “Who is he?” she conversationally asked.  

“My boyfriend,” you said almost shyly.  This thing between you was still new and fresh, only a few months old.  You were still getting used to using the title for Sy.  

“You live together?” she asked as she put the makeshift bandage back down.  “Hold that again please.”   

You do as you are told.  “No, only been together a few months.” you affirmed.  

She nodded and stripped the gloves from her hands, dropping them into the biohazard trash before turning back to the computer “You are gonna need stitches,” she told you, “but first the doc has to come see you to confirm.”

“Yeah kinda figured that was why my army boyfriend brought me in.  If he coulda handled it himself we wouldn't be here,”  you guessed.  

The nurse pulled a wheelie stool over and sat down near your bedside and looked at you compassionately but no nonsense.  “He the reason you are here?” she asked.  

“Well yeah, he insisted-” 

She shook her head, interrupting you.  “No sweety,” she tried again.  Her name tag/badge read Joy you noticed.  “Are you safe with him?”

Your eyes widened at her meaning. “Yes!” you stumbled over the word, surprised someone would think you are not safe with Sy.  “Absolutely,” you insisted.  “He’d never hurt anyone he cared about much less me,” you defended him further.  

“You have to know how this looks,” the nurse stated.  And you finally put all the pieces together.  “Especially with him being active duty,” she pointed out.  You had heard the rumors that military men were statistically more likely to be the aggressor in domestic violence situations. 

“Not him,” you asserted, trying to think of another way to convince her she had it all wrong.  

Instead she reached out and squeezed your knee.  “It's ok.  I have to ask.  Just a couple more questions and then I'll go get the doctor.”  

You relaxed into the mattress.  “Okay.”

“Do you want your boyfriend back here with you?  I can continue to tell him its policy to keep him out in the waiting room.”

You almost started panicking again at the thoughts that anyone would think anything but the best of Sy.  “No, I want him here please, if I can.”

“Of course you can, especially if he will help you stay calm.” She took a deep breath, holding it for a beat and then releasing it, which you mirrored.  “Will his presence keep you at ease?” Her eyes stared at yours, watching your reaction closely.  

You took another deep breath and nodded.  “Yes please.”  

“Ok sweetie.  If you change your mind, tell me or the doctor you’d like to see ‘Dr. Strong’ and we will get security to remove him from here, okay?”

“I won’t need that,” you assured her.,  “But I’m glad you have that in place for other people to use.  “

She gave you a sad smile. “Unfortunately it's all too common of a situation for us.”  She put her hand on the door handle.  “What’s the boyfriend’s last name?”   

You gave it to her and she nodded.  “I'll go get him now and the Doctor will be with you as soon as he can.”

“Thank you.”

And she was gone.

And you were left alone with your thoughts for a few minutes.  You had never thought so much of as an ill thought about Sy outside of  how obnoxious his snoring was when he’s been drinking and now you felt like you hit the jackpot with Sy.  But also, it felt a bit early to be proclaiming declarations of love.  Sy didn’t seem like the type of man who would ever harm his partner but you had been fooled into thinking the best of others in your past and were proven ---

The door opened and saved you from continuing that thought.  Sy’s face appeared around the curtain with a concerned look as Nurse Joy peeked around him.  “Will be a bit til the doctor will be with you.  Keep holding that towel.”

Sy rounded the bed and sat on the stool the nurse abandoned.  “Thanks,” you said.  “For everything.”

“You are welcome.  Just doing my job.”

And she was gone again, the door closing behind her. “New friend?” Sy asked after that exchange.  

“Something like that,” you affirmed.  

“What’s the verdict?” he nodded towards your hand.  

“Needs stitches,” you stated nonchalantly.  

“And the passing out?” he prompted. 

 You hesitated.  “Oh, ummmm,”   

“You didn't mention that?” he surmised.

“No.”

“Of course not,” he sighed.

You stopped looking at your hands in your lap and flashed your eyes to him.  “What’s that mean?”

Sy just shook his head and laid his hand on your knees closest to him.  “I’ve just noticed you aren't very good at taking care of yourself is all.”  

You get defensive immediately, though this isn't the first time you have heard that from someone else who cared about you.  “I do just fine with that,” you asserted.   

“Then why didn't you mention that to the nurse?”

“Because that's not a big deal,” you attested. “Not as much as bleeding to death.”  You raised your injured hand to illustrate.  “I’m sorry about your towel.”

“I don't give one goddamn about a kitchen towel,” he stated but is interrupted by a knock on the door, drawing both of your attention.  Nurse Joy walked around the curtain with a man in a white coat.  

“Hello here’s Dr. Brock.” 

Sy’s hand squeezed your knee. 

“How are you today?” Dr. Brock asked.  

“Fine outside of trying to filet my palm.  Wait,” you suddenly say.  “I only remember nicking my finger.  When did I slice my palm?” you looked at Sy, and felt the attention of the medical personnel in the room shift to look at him as well.  

“You grabbed for the counter as you passed out,” he simply stated.  

“There was no mention of passing out,” Joy stated, and you realize you had just ratted yourself out.  

“Did you hit your head?” the doctor asked, springing into action to examine your eyes.  

“I don't think so,” you sounded unsure. 

“No they didn’t,” Sy joined the conversation. “I caught them on the way down.”  

Doctor turned half his attention to the attentive boyfriend beside you as he applied gentle pressure around your head.  “Were they out cold?”

“Yes”

“For how long?”  

“At least 3 minutes but it felt like a lifetime,” Sy disclosed.  

Doctor Brock nodded as Joy typed on the computer.  “Let’s get them a CT scan, a CBC panel to start,” he spoke to the nurse who clicked the mouse.  “And a stitch kit for their hand.”  He gave that the briefest of looks and a nod.  “Looks like the bleeding has stopped.  We can take care of that while we wait for radiation to come get them.”

He turned back to you.  “Afraid we are going to keep you from dinner for a bit longer,” he told you.

“It's ok,” you whispered. 

It took another hour, but you found yourself stitched , bandaged, scanned and short a few vials of blood.  You and Sy sat in the room, talking about which fast food to grab on your way back to his place when Dr. Brock and your new favorite nurse returned.  “We have the results from your scan and your blood work,” he told you as he sat down in front of the computer.  Sy’s hand gently squeezed your uninjured hand while the doctor logged in and pulled up your chart.  “Ok,” he paused as he read.  “Your CT scan came back normal.  Nothing unusual in your brain.”

“That's good.”

He nodded as he continued to look at his results.  “There’s a few things in your blood work I’d like to talk to you about.  Your glucose was concerningly down.” 

 “We were in the process of making dinner,” Sy tried.  

“No it was more than just one missed meal,” the doctor told him.

You avoid looking at Sy out of guilt.  ”I may have missed a few meals today.”

“There's only three to miss,” Sy sounded upset, and your stomach flipped.  “How many did you miss?”

“All of them...?” you stated uncertain, again. 

“And the past few days?” the doctor asked.  

You shrugged and looked sheepishly at him.  “A few...”

“Your blood work says more than ‘a few’,” he said sternly but gently.  “And your urinalysis says you are severely dehydrated.” He looked at you.  “How much water do you have every day?”

“Water?” you lamely asked 

“Yes, plain water.  Maybe with some lemon or bubbles in it, but just water?”

“Not much.  I’m more of a coffee kind of girl,” you tried to tell him, aiming for a joke but it falling flat on your audience.

“I’m going to need you to up your intake of water by a lot.”

“For how long?”

“For always,” he looked at you.  “Human bodies need water to survive.” he glanced quickly at the screen before turning back to you.  “How has your depression and anxiety been lately?”  

Well shit.  You looked guiltily at Sy again before answering.  “It's been better.”

“On a scale of 1-5,  l one being the lowest you’ve been and 5 being the best feeling ever, where have you been lately?

Another sideways glance at Sy before answering.  “A 0.5?”

“I see,” the doctor said and typed a few things.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sy asked, sounding more than a little hurt.

The shrug you give him does nothing to remove the look from his face.  

“What can I do for them, Doc?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your face.

You opened your mouth to protest but Dr. Brock beat you to it. “That’s up to them as to what they need. But open communication is a good start.”  That was directed at you.  “And reassuring them they are worth taking care of themselves.”  That was directed at Sy.

“I can handle that,” your boyfriend stated.  

“Glad to hear it.  Nurse Joy will get you your instructions and get you checked out.  You can have your GP pull the stitches in 14 days.  And go over your mental health needs with them too, please.”

You just nodded.  

“Take care of each other.”  And he was gone out the door.  

The ride home was as silent as the ride to the ER but for different reasons.  You felt the anger rolling off Sy.  You were ashamed at having your mental health issues revealed to him in such a manner.  This relationship was still too new and now you were afraid he was going to ditch you and run for the hills.

“You can just drop me at my car in your driveway and I’ll head home,” you surmised you had fully ruined your date night if not your whole relationship.

“What?” Sy sounded confused.  “No.” He pulled his eyes from the road for a second to look at you.  If you weren't wrong, he looked hurt again.  “We are grabbing dinner and then we are gonna talk about what is going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

“Look if you wanna break up with me-”

“What kind of assholes have you dated, sweetheart?” he asked angrily and your mouth audibly snapped shut followed by a soft sniffle.  He DID think you were an idiot and he was going to ditch you tonight.  You knew it.  Trouble was he held you hostage until he returned you to your car.  And the sound of your next sniffle, Sy hit his blinker and pulled the truck into the first parking lot on his right,parking his truck across 4 spots before turning in his seat to look at you, his hand landing on your forearm. “Please talk to me,” he softly said.  “Whatever it is, I'm here.”

“You hate me,” you asserted.   “I’m a horrible person.  And now you know the truth about me.”

Sy’s hand flew up to the ceiling of the truck and flipped the light on and watched you wiped at your tears.  “Did I say any of that?” he asked. “Ever.”  

You shook your head.  “No but you probably are thinking about it now that you know.”

“Know what? That you have a mental illness that makes your life hard to navigate?”

“Yeah.” you sniffled. 

“For fuck’s sake, darlin’, do you know how many of my men have mental illnesses, both diagnosed and not?  And I trust them literally with my life,” Sy tried again, agitation just on the edge of his voice.  He took a breath and tried another time.  “Sweetness, whatever you have going on , I ain't lying when I tell you I’m here for you, for all of it.:”

“But-”

“No buts, gorgeous, you aren't getting rid of me that easily,” he insisted, giving you a small smile, which you did not return.  “Unless you want me to go.  I hope you don't.  You seemed like you were enjoying our evening tonight before your swan dive.” You smiled at that.  “But if you want out, let's talk about that and I’ll try to convince you to stay so I can fix whatever it is you don't like but I do not want out.  I make that call, not you,” he asserted gently.  

You sat in stunned silence for a moment.  All your standard cookie cutter responses to try to convince someone you were a horrible person died on your tongue, leaving you with nothing to say.  

At another beat of silence, Sy grabbed his phone from the center console.  “Do you want pizza or tacos for dinner?”

~~~~~~~~~

Once you were safely at his house with your dinner, Sy left you at the kitchen table as he took an exuberant Aika outside to potty and chase a ball around for a few minutes.  By the time he returned, you had set the table and were in the process of cleaning up the mess you had left on his floor, on his counter, your blood mixed with food that had been left out too long.  

Sy dramatically sighed when he found you trying to one handedly clean everything up.  “Will you stop before you hurt yourself further?”  You looked at him sheepishly.  “But thank you,” he tried instead.  “Thank you for setting the table.”  He took your good hand and escorted you to the table set with two plates, two glasses of water and the only candle you could find in his house and you were fairly certain it was a gift from his mom or sister.  He pulled your chair out for you and you rolled your eyes as you sat down, but you sat down.  “Good baby,” he mumbled into the crown of your head.  “One slice or two?” he asked, chivalrously opening the box for you to see the options available as if you weren’t in the truck when he ordered your usual pizza.  

“You are a dork,” you informed him. 

“Yes, but I am your dork,” he told you, pulling two pieces to put on your plate.  “Since you didn’t eat at all today, you get two.  And you have to eat them all, even the crusts.  And drink all your water too,” he informed you. 

You made a face at him but nodded, agreeing to those terms.  “Okay, Daddy,” you teasingly mutter as you pull a stringy bit of cheese and pop it in your mouth.  

Sy growled low in his throat, a noise you only heard when you did something he liked in the bedroom and you felt your belly heat at finding a new kind of his and one you didn't object to.  You smirked at him as he sat down, your focus now on his darkening eyes. “You wanna play with Daddy, little one?” he menacingly asked you.  You nodded enthusiastically, your ravenous hunger shifting from the pizza to the man in front of you.  

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy.” you started to rise from the table to move towards him.  

“Sit your pretty ass down,” he commanded without raising his voice.  You felt yourself grow hotter at his tone, immediately and unthinkingly settling back into your spot.  “You will eat everything on your plate, or you will not leave this table, am I clear?”   Normally you would balk at such a statement but now you just nodded.   “I need words, little one.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good baby,” he commended.  “You will also drink everything in your glass, do you understand?”  You lost focus, you wondered if this is the tone he took with his men and if so did any of them get turned on as you were right now.  “Hello, pretty baby?” Sy’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts.  

“Yes Daddy, I mean Sir.  I mean Daddy,” you stuttered, unsure what title to use, both seeming fitting at this moment. 

“I see that attention is a problem for you.  So let me try a different approach,” he asserted.  “If you have everything on your plate, drink all the water I give you and take your daily meds if you haven't yet,” he raised a questioning eyebrow at you, knowing you usually packed your medications with you when you came over for date night.  “You can cum tonight.  If you don’t do those things, all you’ll get to do is help me cum, am I clear?”

You swallowed loudly, knowing he was not at all joking in her terms.  “Yes, Daddy.”  And you took a big bite of cooling pizza.

“Good baby.”

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212,

@avengersfan25, @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 , @cynic-spirit , @rosecentury

HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

Syverson tag list: @mrsevans90 @wunder-blunder

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of them. AND Just cuz I think you'll be interested in seeing it I am gonna tag @deandoesthingstome

[ramp-it-up]

ii Most Wanted Part 11: Till the Day I Die (2)

Bless the Broken Road

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: The wedding, along with the nerves, are here!

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. Not much smut at all, sorry. 18 year olds heavy petting, teen hormones, talk of bad dreams, wedding day angst, thoughts of loss, lots of flufffff, 😊.

Sy and Buttercup get married! 👰🏾‍♀️🤵🏻‍♂️

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

A/N:  This is the 11th installment of II Most Wanted. These characters won't quit, so this series will be extended to at least 12 installments, but not for much longer than that. Here are the results from the wedding dress poll .

I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my 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 here

May 2004

“We’re both grown ups now, Buttercup.”

Sy’s breath and smooth voice ghosted your ear as he mouthed at your neck and down your collarbone to the tops of your breasts that were threatening to come out of your bra. You shivered, causing him to pull back and check to see if you were cold because you had thrown off your t-shirt. When he saw your lust- dilated eyes, he was lost to your charms.

Sy could tell by your silence that you were in the same zone that he was in; you just couldn’t admit it.  He wondered if it was because you were trying to keep your purity, or that you wanted to give it away so badly that you couldn’t formulate words. He got impossibly harder at the thought of the latter. It was just a week after your birthday and two weeks to prom and Sy was back to begging.

He was so weak for you.

“You’re a good girl, I know it, Buttercup.”

You whimpered and kissed him hard, your lips sucking on his tongue while pulling him on top of you and between your jean-clad legs, making Sy realize that him calling you a good girl ignited something inside you. His heart pounded through his ribcage at your response.

When you parted, gasping for air, he moved again, bending his head to gently bite your nipple through your bra and continuing his assault on your mind as you ground on the bulge in his pants. Sy held your hips in his hands, slowing you down lest you cause him to make a mess in his pants.

The now familiar, alluring coil in your belly had been winding you up for a while and you were on the verge of risking it all to get some relief. You and Sy had been physical for weeks, but kissing and heavy petting was as far as it went. He would never allow you to go down on him, although you could tell he was holding back. 

His chivalry only made you want him more. But something was causing you to hesitate, despite the fact that Sy was delicious torture and temptation personified.

Tonight, however, he was begging. Artfully. And you were on the edge of giving him everything that he, and you, wanted.

“I have protection. We’ll be so careful, Buttercup. Nothing will happen. Except… except I’ll make you feel real good. I promise. Please.”

His hands moved up your torso, grasping your ribcage as he continued his rationale.

“You already know I’m gonna marry you, girl. It’s a done deal.”

You melted at his deep drawl in your ear, and his touch on your skin, but you chuckled at him, giving him pause.

“Sy…You couldn’t decide what you wanted for dinner. How do you know you want to spend the rest of your life with me? We’ve been together, what? Four months?”

Being the new girl sucked, but when your two new besties, Carla and Tiffani, ratted you out to Sy and gave him your number right after the homecoming dance when he broke up with Becca, you were mad. They had no right to tell your secret.

But you were pleasantly surprised and shocked as hell when he actually called you a week later. 

Everyone thought the pairing was odd; you were so different but shared the same heartbeat. You talked for hours about life, the universe, and everything, and you loved rolling through town in the passenger seat of Sy’s 1978 Ford Bronco with the loud muffler, making waves in the wind with your empty hand, your other hand on him. Sometimes you flipped off the haters that loved to talk shit, but mainly you just waved at those who stopped and stared.

You didn’t give a shit, and Sy didn’t either.

That’s why you loved him. People said you were too young, but yes. You were in love with Jake Syverson.

Even though you were lying In the bed of the Bronco with your shirt off, Sy stopped trying to get into your pants, shifted beside you and stared. Cerulean blue orbs held you captive.

“I knew what I wanted you the moment you walked into English class with that Powerpuff Girls shirt on and that scowl on your face. I knew you were mine. Trust me,  Buttercup. I know you feel it too. I’m yours. ‘Til the day I die.”

You shivered as you stared at him. You didn’t trust many people in your life, but if you trusted anyone, it would be Sy. You took a deep breath and searched his face for deception. It wasn’t there. He already had your soul; you were about to give him your body. 

Sy saw the moment you made your decision and was shook. This wasn’t going to be some simple fun in the back of Betty. This was forever. He considered you. The hot, innocent look of desire that made him rock hard also made him feel guilty. He knew what you’d been through and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. Sy wanted this to be your decision, and you weren’t ready tonight before he sweet talked you. All of a sudden, it just didn’t seem right.  His hand came up and traced your cheek down to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you Buttercup.”

You flushed, and a warm sensation was building in your chest at his gentle whisper.

Is really this what true love felt like?

Before you could respond, Sy pulled you closer, and reached into the backseat for his letterman jacket to cover you from the chilly night air. 

He leaned down and kissed your forehead and nuzzled your hair as he held you close.

“Drivin’ me crazy, but I will wait forever for you, Buttercup.”

You melted into him when you realized that he was pumping the brakes. You soon noticed that he was still semi-hard beneath your thigh, which was thrown across his hips. You reached down to grasp him.

“Poor Sy…”

Sy caught your hand in his and interlaced his fingers with yours instead.

“Prom night?”

You nodded and bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. A low growl emitted from your boyfriend. 

“I must be really in love, ‘cause I just cock-blocked my damn self.”

You shook with laughter as Sy grumbled. He handed you your shirt back and took in what he could of your flesh as you covered up, licking his lips as he memorized you for when he was alone in his room later. 

You grinned at him.

“Maybe so, Captain Syverson.”

He smacked your bottom as you climbed back into the passenger seat. Sy loved it when you called him Captain.

He climbed out of the gate and stepped out into the chilly night to get back to the driver’s seat and took a deep breath, then shook his head as he looked up at the stars. Sy smiled at the thought of his grandmother’s ring.

Suddenly, a plan formed in his mind.

You and he would go to State, you with his ring, a promise, on your finger, and him with his heart on his sleeve. He’d propose with a rock the summer before senior year and marry you the week after college graduation, living happily ever after.

Sy grinned at the perfection of it all as he climbed back into the Bronco and gave you a kiss before he peeled off the Lookout.

—--

Sy woke up with a start the next morning. He looked around confused, not recognizing his surroundings as he tried to wake up fully. He hadn’t had a dream like it in months, since he was newly retired.

But this dream wasn’t about war; in this dream, he’d lost you again. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, regret about so much time was wasted swirling around him. Then he sighed and reached for his phone, finding a treasure trove of pictures of you and your friends. His heart rate calmed and his face cracked into a smile as he discovered that you had messaged him genuine joy. 

No use in mourning the past, Sy thought.

You’d stopped sending pictures around 11:56 pm, because it was your wedding day, you explained, and his heart exploded when he read that. 

You were still his girl, and he was gonna marry you.

He texted you good morning before he put down his phone and stared at the ceiling. 

It was his fucking wedding day.

Sy jumped out of bed and was on the road to Vegas by 6 am.

—-

The next afternoon after a 24 hour whirlwind of pure fun with your friends, you smiled up at the photographer as you carefully adjusted the lace garter around your leg.

You were in love with your dress, your shoes, and especially your hair. Tiffany had been right to encourage you to get a Vegas blowout. You felt like a model. The camera clicked away as you beamed into the lens.

“Beautiful, now let's get a shot with the bridesmaids.”

Carla and Tiffani gathered close and smiled. This intimate ceremony would be the perfect wedding for you and Sy. And that was all that mattered.

After the pictures, you got yourself from your suite to the limo just in time to make the booking at A Little White Wedding Chapel on the other end of the strip. You were serene, and happy that you didn’t need to stuff a monster gown into the car.

During the drive, you looked out of the window and remembered your mother, who had been alive at the time of your first wedding. You allowed yourself a moment of sadness.

Carla leaned over to you.

“We got your back if you want to run.”

You looked back at her and smiled. 

“It’s okay. Sy is who and what I want. I’m good. Really good.”

Tiffany spoke up. 

“Okay. Just remember, we’re always here for you.”

You became even more emotional.

“I know.” 

You smiled at both of them, near tears.

“But you better not make me ruin my makeup, bitches.”

You all laughed, the mood lightened.

—-

Jacob Syverson had been waiting for this day for a long, long time. 

He didn’t think it would come this soon. 

Or all this time later. 

Hell, there was a time that he never thought he’d see you again. 

He’d arrived at the chapel a little early, not wanting to wait to take you as his bride. As he got ready in the groom’s room, he eyed his blue checked sport coat and blue polka dot tie with matching pocket square that he had picked out. He knew that they brought out his eyes. He fiddled with his curls and smoothed down his beard, staring at himself in the mirror, almost in disbelief.

Was this really happening?.

From the moment he saw you when he was 17 years old, he’d wanted you to be his.

And now it was about to happen. 

Sy suddenly couldn’t breathe and he was weak, sweat popping out on his forehead. The tie was too tight. He loosened the tie and unbuttoned the top button of the shirt, hands seemingly a blur in the mirror. He shook his head to clear it, and looked back up into his own eyes long and hard, asking himself if he was really ready to be your husband.

He knew he wanted this, but today he was scared shitless.

—----

The doors of the chapel opened, and you stood around the corner, hidden from view as your friends preceded you down the aisle. You peeked around the corner to catch a glimpse of him at the end of the aisle, and saw a flash of blue at the altar.

There was Sy, so handsome in a blue sportcoat and polka dot pocket square, chuckling and shaking his head at something Carla did as she walked toward him, then he smiled wide at Tiffani. You straightened up when  his eyes found the closing doors, your heart pounded as you hid from his view.

Were you really going to do this?

—----

Sy’s throat went dry as he stared at the doors at the back of the chapel. His hands began to shake causing him to clasp them in front of him as he waited.

In a flash, the doors were open again and there you were a vision in satin and lace, but not a lot of it. The sun shone behind you and he nearly fainted as he admired the view through your dress.

You glowed like an angel.

You paused and the music began. He barely registered the familiar notes of the song because suddenly, his head was swimmy again. 

He took a deep breath and got himself together, staring at you wide eyed as you slowly moved toward him, with that smile on your face.

At that moment, there was only one woman in the world, and you were walking toward him.

—--

The doors of the chapel opened again and you had tunnel vision for Sy at the end of the aisle. Your heart leapt in your throat and you tried to swallow it down when all you could hear were the opening notes of the music you and Sy claimed as your song all those years ago. 

You didn’t realize how much more accurate the lyrics were twenty years later.

I set out on a narrow way many years ago

Hoping I would find true love along the broken road

But I got lost a time or two

Wiped my brow and kept pushing through

I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

You smiled and paused, eyes having found Sy’s and locked in. You were trembling and took a deep breath before walking toward him. 

—---

It seemed that you moved toward him in slow motion, and Sy felt that he was in a dream, staring at you in disbelief. There you were, all long, flowy hair around your shoulders and that satin baby doll dress with lace trim adorning your curves perfectly. 

Sy gazed at you, taking you in from your cute white toenails in your high heeled sandals up those curvaceous legs and thighs to the short, flowy skirt that swished around the swell of your hips to the fitted waist. He licked his lips as he hallucinated seeing your nipples through the rushed satin bust of the bodice, and almost passed for the third time when one of the lace straps fell down your shoulder. 

The dress was everything, and he was gonna make love to you in it later on.

His eyes moved upwards, reading the name on the gold necklace that was his gift to you, and that was nestled on your chest. Sy looked back up at you smiling knowingly back at him, and suddenly, he was calm although there were tears streaming down his face.

That every long lost dream led me to where you are

Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars

Pointing me on my way into your loving arms

This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road

That led me straight to you

—---

As you moved, speeding down the aisle it seemed, you realized that you were smiling through your own tears. Sy broke your heart once, but you both were idiot kids in love, and who knows if you would have made it that young anyway?

The way this happened was meant to be, this moment was perfect, and it was now.

—--

I think about the years I spent just passin' through

I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you

But you just smile and take my hand

You've been there, you understand

It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

It seemed like it would take ten more years for you to reach him at the altar and Sy felt a pang of regret at the lost time. But then he remembered that you were walking towards him, right here, right now. You were choosing him. The past was over. It was time to make a new future.

—--

You floated down the aisle, and in no time you were standing beside Sy at the altar, no recognition of how you arrived in this instant bubble between you two. 

Sy stared at you, as if surprised to find you there, then smiled as you wiped his tears away with your fingers.

“Hi,” you whispered, smiling as Sy chuckled and took his pocket square out to dab at your face. 

“You look so handsome.”

Sy smiled, wanting to take you in his arms.

“Hey, Buttercup. You look gorgeous.”

You shivered as his eyes assessed you, your belly flipping as his gaze covered your entire form. You grew warm and wanted to kiss him, but he gave you a look and you decided to behave.

He held his hand out for yours, eyes sparkling.

The electricity that buzzed around you when you were near him was back, and you knew that you wanted this feeling forever. Sy’s patient gaze made you smile wider at how much he loved you. 

In that instant, you knew beyond a doubt.

You stared at him, taking in his face, the woodsy scent of his cologne, how huge he was in front of you. Then you sighed, nodded (to yourself really) and gave Sy your hand, which he held in his and caressed with his thumb. Shivers ran down your spine, yet you managed to stay upright.

—--

And now I'm just a-rollin' home

Into my lover's arms

This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road

That led me straight to you

The officiant cleared their throat and you all looked their way.

“Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage today?"

Sy answered first, smiled, looked at you and said,  “Yes.”

You smiled back and without hesitation, said, “Yes.”

“Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before these witnesses.”

Everyone laughed because you were already holding hands. 

You wrote your vows together, so you knew what was coming. But you weren’t ready. The tears started again.

Sy spoke, his voice never wavering.

“I take you Y/N Y/LN  to be my wife. I promise to be with you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse. I promise to take care of you and to share with you and be straight with you and to always shelter you with my love. I will always come after you and I will always help you to look up when you are feeling down. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.

Until the day I die.”

Your eyes overflowed, but you remained strong.

“I, Y/N Y/LN, take you, Jacob Allen Syverson to be my husband. I promise to be with you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse. I promise to care for you and be straight with you and to share with you and to always shelter you with my love. I will not seek to run from you and I will always hold you down while you lift me up. And I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. Until the day I die.”

Sy grinned at you and your stomach flipped with excitement as Carla and Tiffani awwed.

The officiant continued.

“You have declared your consent before these witnesses. What has been joined together, let no man divide. May these rings be a symbol of your true faith in each other, and always remind you of your love.”

You turned to Carla for Sy’s ring, a simple gold band, and you slipped it on his finger. Sy turned to Tiffani and your eyebrow shot up as she reached into a pocket in her dress and handed him a black box. Out came his grandmother’s ring, only now there was another ring that was paired with it, beautifully heavy with diamonds.

Your mouth hinged open in shock.

Sy was grinning at your reaction as he slid the rings onto your finger, pretty pleased with himself you could tell.

“Told you I would marry you with a bigger ring than that. Told you that a long time ago.”

He looked up at you with those baby blues and winked at you as your knees got weak. You looked around at your friends who were obviously in on it.

“Don’t worry, they’re conflict-free.” 

Carla stage whispered and everyone laughed as you shook your head and held your hand up to the light before Sy captured it in his own again. He was feeling like the man at that moment, and you almost forgot there was anyone else in the room as you gazed up at him. Electricity zapped between you, and you were ready to take him down.

The officiant cleared their throat again.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” 

There was a pause as you both looked at them with anticipation. They smiled back, knowing what you wanted.

“You may now kiss your bride!”

Sy let out a whoop and pulled you in for a kiss, taking you into a dip and causing hoots, hollers, and cheers.

“May I now introduce Mr. Jacob and Mrs. Buttercup Syverson!”

You burst out into laughter as Sy led you back down the aisle, fingering the gold name necklace which said ‘Mrs. Buttercup.’

[poledancingdinos]

Soundtrack of Debauchery Series Masterlist

Pairing: Young!Syverson X OFC (Jessie) X Mike (Hellraiser)

Total length: ~ 33 200 words

General content warnings: Polyamory, Smut, Angst, D/S vibes, Alcohol, Drug Use, various other warnings outlined in individual chapters

Summary: When Sy and Mike are both attracted to the same girl, it becomes obvious that what started as a little bit of fun during a musical festival has grown into much more.

Soundtrack of Debauchery - Part 1

Soundtrack of Debauchery - Part 2

Soundtrack of Debauchery - Part 3

Soundtrack of Debauchery - The Soundtrack (from Part 1)

The Trio as Dog Breeds

[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

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

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 Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

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

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

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 Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

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

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

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

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Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place. 

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked. 

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me. 

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 26

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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?

[ladylaviniya]

Syverson raising his killer dog squad be like ↑↑↑

(via)

[hertzwritings]

Yes, professor

A/N: I watched Sandcastle. I’m ruined.

Feedback feeds the soul, my loves! Requests are always open.

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Pairings: College!Professor!Cap. Syverson x female reader (no descriptiors)

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI, please), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, unprotecetd sex, language, age gap (reader is over 18)

You were late. Like, really, really late. You were rushing the halls, trying desperately to find the right room for Modern History 1, where your first class of the day took place. You already knew you weren't in good graces, judging by the clipped email, the professor had sent out about being late for class - he definitely didn't have a lot of leeway for coming in late.

As you stood in front of the door to the lecture hall, you were seriously considering just skipping it.

Instead you grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside and hurried to an empty seat - which, of course, only was on the front rows. Wonderful. You looked at him and instantly had to suck in a breath; this was not a professor, this was a bodybuilder. A tree. A god. Arms were bulging behind the flimsy fabric of his shirt, his thighs strechted the fabric of his pants to a point, where you doubted they'd hold up if he went for a squat. His face was gorgeous, rugged and he looked like he could cleave wood with the back of his hand, which had you reeling over the veins, that popped out as he wrote something down on a piece of paper in front of you.

“Miss Y/L/N, did you not read my mail?” His voice rang clear as day through the hall. It was stern and dark, and he hadn’t even looked up from his papers. You grimaced and sat down, wondering briefly how he knew your name before remembering his list of students - you were probably the only one who wasn't present as he called out names.

“Sorry.” “Not good enough. I’ll let it slide for this time…” He looked to you, stopping himself mid sentence as his eyes roamed your chest and face, a devious smile playing at the corner of his lips. “But I’ll need you to see me in my office after hours.” You nodded and bit your lip. Great, not even a week into the semester, and you were already going to get written up.

“Think you can manage getting there on time?” Your face was burning.

“Yes, sir.” “Good girl.” Your breath hitched at the voice it almost sounded like praise and his southern drawl made his voice smoother than whiskey.

“Now, back to the Second Congo War…”

---------------------------

You had been writhing in your seat during the full lecture. He kept glancing at you, that fucking smile on his lips, exposing his teeth slightly and it made you feel hot every time you saw a flash of his fucking fangs. He must’ve known how you were feeling, because he constantly called on you and you were wildly unprepared for a quiz.

His arms were bulging against the buttoned, light blue shirt he was wearing, and a part of you wondered if a quick movement would rip the fabric in half as he crossed his arms and leaned against the desk in the middle of the room. You kept zoning out, focusing more on his arms, thighs and that one goddamn vein in his neck that kept popping out.

He had caught you staring a few times and each time, a smirk had graced his lips and he had cleared his throat, making your cheeks burn and you to look down as quickly as you could.

“Alright, get caught up to the reading, I’ll have your goddamn heads if you show up unprepared tomorrow. Y/L/N, down here.” He said as the class finished beckoning you down with a finger, his eyes on the papers on the table. You walked down to him, painfully aware of your bare legs and the triangle of slick that had gathered in your underwear during class.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” He looked at you with a lifted eyebrow. “I don’t tolerate students being late.” He said, sitting down and crossing his leg over his knee, leaning back - he looked fucking dangerously sinful. “I’m sorry, I got lost in the hall…” You started. “I don’t care. If I have class, you’re here.” You nodded. “If I call your name, you better answer correctly, darlin’, or I’ll have your ass.” You felt your cheeks heat up yet again. “Yes, sir.” His eyes gleamed. “My office. 30 minutes.” He dictated and you didn’t dare do anything else but nod again. “Yes, sir.”

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand and you quickly left, cheeks on fire and an unsettling heat in your stomach.

You went straight to the bathroom, splashing water on your face and adjusted your shirt. “Get it the fuck together.” You whispered to yourself before rushing to the cafeteria and bought a bottle of water, chugging it and glanced at the clock. You might as well be early.

You sat on the wooden chair outside of his office, watching the time tick away, and a minute before time was up, you stood, smoothed your skirt down, drew a deep breath and knocked.

“Yes?” His voice rang out. You walked inside and shut the door behind you. “Lock it.” You followed orders, although you were unsure why.

He had shed his blue shirt and sat in a tattered Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt that splayed across his chest - it looked like it was about to pop at the seams.

“Sit.” You did and looked at him, your hands folded in your lap. He let his eyes wander your body, resting shortly at the swell of your breasts. He stood up and leaned over the desk, his face inches from yours. He was intoxicating, his blue eyes hard and a scent of harpics and pine lingered over him.

“Do you know why you’re here?” He asked in a brash voice. You nodded and he narrowed his eyes. “Words.” He practically spat at you.

“Yes, sir.” “Why?” You shifted a little in the chair, and felt your skirt ride up - you saw his eyes quickly dart to the exposed skin.

“I was late.” He hummed and stepped around the desk to stand against it in front of you. “And?” You frowned. And what? “I’m sorry?” He crossed his arms.

“And you weren’t focused or prepared for class.” You sighed. “I’m really sorry, I had an off day, and I…” You trailed off at the glare he sent you. He pushed off of the desk and placed his hands on the chair, capturing you in between his arms.

“I don’t care if you watched your dog die in front of you, you either tell me you aren’t prepared or aren't showing up, or you. Fucking. Show. Up.” His voice was dangerously low.

“Yes, sir.” He drew a deep breath and sent you a smirk that made you squeeze your thighs together - which didn’t go unnoticed by him. He chuckled darkly.

“Am I making you feel some type of way, Y/L/N?” you bit your lip. “Sir, I’m…” He swallowed hard, eyes trained on your heaving chest. “I saw how you were looking at me during class.” He stated. You nodded, not bothering to lie or deny. “You have a dirty mind, Y/N?” He asked in a low voice, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue made you shiver.

“Yes.” “Yes, what?” His hand was on your arm now. “Yes, sir.” He grinned dangerously and dipped his head to yours, lips almost touching. “Good girl.”

In a fraction of a second, he had you on your feet, turned you around and pushed you against the desk, his hands on your chest - you mewled at the feeling of his rough fingers tugging harshly on your pointed nipples, and his fingertips travelled quickly from your clothed nipples to the top of your shirt. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Are you attached to this shirt?” “Uhm, a little…” He ripped it straight down the middle and smiled wickedly at you. “Not anymore.” Now, with your breasts free, he attacked you again, fingers nimbly rolling and tugging your nipples as your head fell back and you moaned.

“You’re a fucking dirty girl, aren’t you?” He whispered, letting one hand wander down to the edge of your skirt, inching it up.

“If you don’t want this, you better fucking tell me now, because I aint goin’ back after going up here.” He grumbled, the tips of his fingers grazing your heat. You groaned. “I want this, sir.” You moaned, arching your back.

“You’re fucking dripping.” He rumbled and pushed you to sit on the desk, spreading your legs and pushing your thong to the side, slipping a finger inside of you and without pause, he started to pump his finger, curling it against your g-spot.

You felt dirty, halfway laying, halfway sitting on his desk, spread out in front of him, as his mouth found your nipple - you groaned and rolled your hips against his fingers, the sound of your wet, throbbing pussy almost filling the room.

“Shit…” He said, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at him as he added another thick finger, his eyes boring into yours.

“You want to be fucked by your professor?” he asked lowly, dragging against your walls. You nodded and he pounded his fingers in you, making you gasp soundlessly. The palm of his hand rested on your clit, pressing down on it and your legs twitched around him, close to falling into pleasure. “What did I fucking tell you, dirty girl?” He growled, pressing harder down on your clit as he impaled you on his fingers. “Fuck!” You couldn’t focus on what he wanted from you, feeling yourself teetering on the edge, almost exploding in pleasure. “Use. Your. Fucking. Words.” Every word was punctuated by another deep plunge into you.

“Yes! Yes, fuck me, please!” You gritted through your teeth. “Want to come on my fingers, darlin’?” he almost commanded you to do it. “Yes…” “Yes, what?” He growled. You rolled your hips against him, every nerve in you was on fire.

“Fuck, yes, sir!” He picked up the pace and bit your bottom lip, pulling at it slightly before letting it go and his eyes burned into you.

“Come for me.” You exploded around his fingers, feeling yourself gush over his fingers as you moaned and writhed under him, riding your orgasm out on his fingers shamelessly.

He didn’t give you time to come down, but slid his fingers out from you and grabbed your hips, lifting you from the desk and turning you over, bending you over the desk as he pushed your skirt up, bundling it on your hips and pushed your chest down into the cool wood.

“You’re dripping for me, huh?” He whispered. You moaned as you heard his zipper go, and your body tensed in anticipation.

“I’m goin’ to fucking punish you now.” He growled, his hand falling on your exposed ass, eliciting a squeal from you. He wasn’t holding back.

“Count ’em.” He rumbled as his hand went harshly to your ass, once, twice, five and ten times. At the end, your slick was almost running down your legs and tears were welling in your eyes. He chuckled. “Want me?” He was so fucking collected, it almost made you angry. “Yes, sir, please.” Your voice was needy as he pushed the tip against your folds. “You’re so wet, you like bein’ punished, huh?” You could hear his smirk. “By you, sir.” You were skirting a line, you shouldn’t, and you knew it. He groaned and pushed into you, stretching you to an uncomfortable degree. “Fuck, you’re big…” You moaned as he forced his length deeper, but he just chuckled. “You’ll take me.” He rumbled and pushed against your cervix. He moaned, the sound sending flames licking up and down your skin, and he didn’t give you time to adjust - he began dragging his length against your walls in a speed that was impossible for you to handle. Filthy sounds rolled from your mouth as he fucked you hard with his thick cock, his groans matcing you. His fingers went to your nipples and tugged them harshly. You bucked under him and he picked up the pace.

His left hand went to your ass, cupping, grabbing and diggin his fingers into it, and his hips stuttered against you. “I’m going to fill you, and you’re going to take it, hear me?” He mumbled between moans, rutting hard against you. “Yes, sir.” He groaned and leaned over you, his chest flush with your back and his teeth found your sensitive skin right at the junction of your throat and shoulder. You mewled and bucked your hips, the orgasm slamming into you as a freight train.

He roared as he came, filling you with his spend fucking you until your legs buckled under you. He pulled out, chuckling at the sight of your spent hole, throbbing and leaking. He smacked your ass for good measure before zipping his pants.

You pulled your skirt down and sighed unhappily at the sight of your ruined shirt. You were going to have a shitty time walking through campus. He quirked his eyebrow at you and handed you his blue shirt. You looked at it, dumbfounded.

“It’s just a shirt.” You took it with a small smile.

“Thank you, sir.” He cupped your face in his hand and finally kissed you. It was soft and surprisingly chaste considering his cum was currently leaking out of you.

“You can call me Luke when we’re here.”

-------------------------------------

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[bradshawssugarbaby]

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

Luke Syverson has never been one for relationships, the army is all he's ever known. now sidelined with an injury, he's forced to rethink his life, with the help of his physical therapist, Joanna.

one.

[eccentricallygothic]

Prompt: Survive a Syverson. Fluff, domestic.    

“Oh no, mama!” You vehemently shake your head at your future mother-in-law as you tiredly put down your plate. “I just had a TON of rice and so much chicken that I couldn't even keep track at one point!” You try pulling it away but she plants a much stronger grip on it. “I can't!” 

The older woman waves it away -as always- before she piles your plate with food again. “You're a growing lady,” she always tells you that. “You need to eat!” You whine under your breath. 

“I'll never be able to finish all these ribs and mac and cheese!” That is the rule in the Syverson household, everyone finishes their food, always. 

You can swear these people eat three times more than any family you have ever seen! Like, you just had dinner and Sy -your share of the lot- is already munching away on something as he stands beside you while leaning against one of the kitchen counters, clad in some cargo shorts and a semi-faded Lynyrd Skynyrd tee.

Mrs. Syverson sighs before putting one sassy hand on her hip -something the Syverson men swear runs in the Syverson women- and raises one of her eyebrows at you. 

“You think you can survive a Syverson on some rice and chicken, girl?” Your heart drops and your boyfriend's snicker causes a burst of flames to spread through the entirety of your face, the heat threatening to reach your throat. 

“Yeah,” Sy's heavy voice sounds even deeper because of the way he takes a sip of his beer to wash his throat out. “Do you, girl?” Your face and vocal chords are paralyzed in embarrassment as you lower your head and pick up your plate before silently walking back to the table and retaking your seat, defeated.

Sy is so going to repeat this into oblivion! 

“That's what I thought!” Mama calls after you before snickering softly but you hear it loud and clear. 

You can swear Sy gets his dirty, bold and loud mouth from that woman. His dad and you are their victims. Too bad the two of you love those filthy mouths too much.

[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.

Tags:

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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[ramp-it-up]

Loved the wedding!

Also love how from Sy’s pov he felt like the wedding was going slow and Buttercup thought it was flying by.

Perfection! ❤️

Thank you Nonnie!

🥹

So glad you liked it. And I didn’t realize it was doing that until it was halfway done. 😜

I guess it kind of symbolizes their perspectives as a whole. Sy feels like he’s been wanting this forever, and since Buttercup’s been back she feels like things have been going at lightning speed.

Love, love these two. ❤️‍🔥

Read II Most Wanted

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 27

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: Misogyny, Bullying, Hazing

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 @rosecentury @wa-ni @secretdream2 @missemrose @shellyshellshell @winter2112rose

A/N: I'm still working on updating my taglist. Unfortunately if your name is crossed out it's because tumblr won't let me tag you.

Masterlist

Day 444

Leah never thought she would be back at Warhorse, much less without Sy. From the moment she crossed the gate it was deja vu. There were shouts coming from the angry crowd outside and cat calls coming from the horny men inside. As far as she was concerned, she was on the most dangerous side of the gate.

“Don’t punch anyone,” Benjie ordered under his breath, keeping his eyes forward. “The boys have mentioned the new Captain is the bottom of the barrel. He sees you react, it’ll be his pleasure to make your life hell while you’re here.”

Leah ground her teeth as she walked by a group of boys making lewd gestures. “I don’t know. I get the feeling my life here will be hell either way. I might as well have the satisfaction that will come from seeing the look on their faces when they get their ass kicked by a girl.”

One of the new boys led them up the stairs to their assigned room. It seemed no one was concerned about giving her a separate space this time. They walked past a few familiar faces, one of which looked from where he was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. Nielsen locked eyes with Leah, giving her nod of acknowledgment.

A nod was better than him going back to torturing her or pretending like she doesn’t exist.

“I can’t believe they dragged us all the way here to be fucking glorified delivery drivers.” Jer complained, dumping his bag on his bed. “Aren’t we overqualified for that shit?”

“Apparently they tried to get a couple of army boys to escort the truck. Only two out of five walked out of here on their own two feet. Two were evac’d after their Victor took a hit from a rocket launcher and the other left in a bag after a firefight.”

“Guess I must have missed the day in Spec Ops training where they taught us that we become impervious to rocket launchers,” Ethan mumbled.

He had a point. Calling in an extra team to put more protection on the convoy was one thing, trading one team for another was just sending more lambs out to slaughter. The current team had fucked up and gotten the water pumps blown up. Shouldn’t they get the shitty—and apparently deadly—job of escorting the water tank? Let them put their asses on the line while she and the boys sat around playing poker and ‘guarding’ the base.

Day 445

The next morning, they made their beds before going down to chow. No less than four men popped in to ask Leah if she could ‘be a doll and do theirs once she was done’. She never thought she’d want a guy to defend her honor but she kind of wished Sy was there to put them in their place so that she didn’t have to just grit her teeth and take it.

After a quick breakfast, they went back up to their rooms to gear up for the day.

“What the fuck?” Benjie exclaimed, looking down at his hand which was entirely coated in something thick and red.

“What even is that?” Ethan asked in horror.

Rohan caught Benjie’s wrist, bringing it to his nose for a sniff. “Huh, fifty-seven varieties.”

“Ketchup?” Leah guessed. “They aren’t seriously dumb enough to pull a prank on a nearly senior NCO, are they?”

“Nope,” Jer cut in, “but they are dumb enough to not double check that they got the right bag.” Jer pulled out three pairs of women’s underwear coated in what must have been an entire bottle of ketchup.

Leah didn’t even know how they got their hands on so much ketchup. Or women’s underwear for that matter.

“They got the wrong bag? How? They all saw which bunk was mine.”

“Exactly.”

Leah shared a confused look with Benjie as he attempted to clean himself up with baby wipes. It was then she noticed that her bag was not where she had left it.

“You switched our bags.”

A victorious grin pulled at Jer’s lips. “I think the Captain will be interested in hearing about how disrespectful his boys are being, don’t you?”

Leah had been wrong. Escorting the water tanker was not the worst part of their job. The worst part was waiting for the damn thing to fill. After the Captain spoke with Fuller and agreed to discipline his men—even he couldn’t overlook hazing a staff sergeant—he’d sent them out on their way.

At least on the road their minds were occupied, watching their sectors or the slightest sign of danger. At the water pump there was nothing around for miles. They would see and hear any hostiles coming long before they were a danger to them so she was going absolutely crazy in the meantime.

“I need to take a shit,” Ethan said to no one in particular.

“Now’s as good a time as you’re gonna get. Jer, go keep a lookout.”

“Why does it gotta be me? Why don’t you go watch him drop the kids off at the pool.”

“I’ll go,” Leah volunteered. “I’m going fucking crazy standing still. Rohan, switch with me.” 

Rohan climbed up to take her place while she jumped off the tanker and followed Ethan to the sand dunes, stopping at the top while he went down to the other side. From there, she could see out even further so, after doing a preliminary sweep, she lifted her gun to look into the distance through her scope.

“Something wrong, Coleman?” Benjie asked, probably on high alert from the fact that she had her weapon raised.

“Nah, just wanted to see better!”

“Roger!”

Lowering her weapon, Leah glanced at the rest of the team before turning and looking through her scope in the other direction. A black dot crossed the bottom of her scope, making her pause and look up.

The dot was in the direction of the only road that led up to the water station but there was no dust to indicate that it was a vehicle approaching. Looking back through the scope, it took her a moment to find the dot again, noting that it had gotten a tiny bit closer.

“Alright, I’m ten pounds lighter and no longer at risk of shitting myself on the road. Let’s get back to the tanker.”

Leah didn’t look up from her scope as Ethan climbed the dune, tracking the dot as it slowly got closer.

“Coleman?” Ethan’s voice was more tentative this time.

“Gimme a second.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I can’t tell with the heat haze. Whatever it is, it’s small and far out still so we don’t need to panic.” Yet.

Beside her, Ethan raised his weapon, ready to provide cover fire just in case. Another minute passed and the dot still wasn’t close enough to allow Leah to see it clearly.

“Are you sure it’s moving?”

“Positive.”

“Clean your scope to be sure.”

Part of her was annoyed that Ethan didn’t trust her but she did it anyway. Sure enough, the dot was still there.

“Well, it’s gotta be an animal ‘cause I doubt someone would walk way out here alone.”

Leah dropped her rifle, frowning as she considered Ethan’s words. They were pretty far from Warhorse and the surrounding village. If it was indeed an animal, it was likely wild. “Can you do that really loud whistle people do at concerts?”

“No, but I think Rohan can.”

“Hey Ray!” She waited for him to look over his shoulder at them. “I need you to whistle towards the road! Make it loud!”

Pulling his gloves off, Rohan angled his body East, no questions asked. He slipped his fingers between his lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

It took Leah a moment but she eventually got eyes on the dot once more. She would have expected a wild animal to be spooked by the sound. Instead, the dot had continued to approach, gaining speed and becoming more and more clear.

“No fucking way.” Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. The lack of sleep since she’d gotten back was finally getting to her and she was hallucinating. That had to be it.

“Is that… Aika?” Ethan asked, apparently having gotten sick of her silence and taken matters into his own hands by looking through his own scope.

“It can’t be.” They both lowered their weapons, sharing a confused look. “Can it?”

Leah was afraid to get her hopes up. Aika had survived on her own once before but she’d gotten used to life on base where water had flowed freely and the peanut butter was plentiful.

They both ran down from the dune, rejoining the others by the tanker. Leah made a beeline for the humvee, yanking open the door and digging around the back seat.

“What’s going on?”

“Coleman glassed something. Looks like a german shepard.”

Benjie, Jer and Rohan shared a knowing look, immediately understanding what Ethan was implying. 

“Shoot it,” a man from the new unit said. “People out here don’t keep dogs as pets. It’s probably got rabies or some shit.”

“You shoot that dog, you answer to me,” Benjie barked.

Having collected the peanut butter packets from all the MREs, Leah got out of the humvee and began walking down the road. Without having to ask, Jer followed.

The men from the other unit began arguing behind them but Leah shut them out. She stopped just far enough from the station to not be overheard but close enough that if shit went sideways the others would be able to take their shot.

“It’s been months,” Jer said as the dog came into view. It was running now, closing in fast.

“I know.”

“That green would have washed out by now.”

“I know.”

“So how are you gonna check if it’s her without getting up within biting distance?”

Without answering, Leah stepped forward, putting a few yards of distance between herself and Jer. Hope had either made her brave or just plain stupid.

She was going to find out which in three… two… one…

Leah squatted down, putting her hand out in front of her. The dog didn’t slow, bypassing her hand entirely and barreling into her. The force of the impact pushed her onto her back and she prayed none of the boys had itchy fingers when a wet tongue darted out over her cheek.

Excited wimpers were like music to her ears, her own laughter adding to the sound of their reunion. Aika kept Leah pinned under her weight as she licked every inch of available skin.

“Hey, come on girl, let your mama breathe.”

Seeming to notice Jer for the first time, Aika jumped off Leah to press her snout into his outstretched hand. It took her a little longer to recognize his scent but soon her butt was wiggling as she wagged her tail hard.

Leah wiped the tears from her cheeks before getting to her feet. She gave Aika a full body rub down until she had calmed enough to obey commands.

“Aika, middle.”

Immediately, Aika turned to Leah, walking around her and coming to stand between her legs from behind.

“Good girl.”

Leah squirted some peanut butter on her fingers, letting Aika lick it off before she began to walk. Aika kept her position, walking between Leah’s legs. Maybe she was being overprotective but she didn’t want to give anyone a clear shot.

“You and Sy were busy.”

“She can do all the basic obedience they would teach a K9. At least, she used to.”

She hadn’t been practicing for very long when they’d left and she was still young. Consistency was key when training dogs and even the best behaved dogs failed commands sometimes.

“What’s the plan here? They won’t let her back on base.”

“When I got home, I had a talk with someone from the shelter my dad used to volunteer at. They were in the process of working with a local SPCA to fly her stateside. When Sy told me they had dumped Aika, they kept in touch with a few kennels just in case someone brought in a green shepard. I don’t know how fast they work but maybe if I can get a call out to my contact back home they’d be able to set up a meet before we move on.”

“The parts for the pump are being delivered tomorrow. We’re gonna be out of the country in a matter of days you can’t—”

“Jer, I don’t need you to tell me how fucking shit the odds are,” she snapped. “She’s made it this far. If there’s a chance, I have to try.”

Day 205:

From the moment she woke, there was only one thing on Leah’s mind. Heat. Her entire body was burning up. Blindly, Leah pushed her socks off under the blanket, letting them ball up at the foot of the bed then kicked the blankets off. When that wasn’t enough, she was forced to let her mind wake up.

Realizing that the reason for the scorching temperature was because she was still fully dressed, Leah remembered the previous night’s events. She sat up, looking at Sy’s sleeping form then down at his hoodie which she still wore over her dress.

After having been fully naked with him the night before, there was no reason to suddenly turn shy. She lifted the dress over her head, removing both it and the hoodie in one go. There was no way she was keeping her bra on, even for modesty. Underwires were created by the devil.

Once she no longer felt like a ball of fire, she made herself comfortable by curling up behind Sy. She pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades and slipped a hand up his stomach to his chest.

Sy hummed as her bare tits were pressed against his back. Taking Leah’s hand in his, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist.

“Y’okay, baby girl?”

She nodded against his back. “Got hot.”

“You gonna be able to go back to sleep?”

“I don’t think so.”

They were likely both wide awake now despite the late night.

“Guess it’s a good thing we ain’t got anywhere to be today.”

Not that he would want to be anywhere else. He’d be okay staying right where they were for eternity. Or, at least, until they had to get back to base.

“Well, I actually did have an idea of something to do… If you wanted.”

Sy rolled over, pulling Leah to his chest. One hand followed the curve of her hip, lifting her bare thigh over his waist. 

“We gotta be there before twelve-hundred hours?” he muttered, still a little groggy.

Biting her lip to mask her amused smile, Leah pressed her forehead to Sy’s. “Nope.”

“Then I’ll follow you anywhere you wanna go,” he vowed, sealing his promise with a kiss.

“Why didn’t you bring me here earlier?” Sy questioned, looking up at the sign above the door.

“You said you didn’t want to be anywhere before noon,” Leah shot back.

“No, I asked if we had to be anywhere before noon. If you’d told me you were bringing me here I’d have taken the answer to that question as a yes.”

Leah rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smile. They both exited the car, making their way inside. A bell chimed over the door, alerting the receptionist to their presence.

“Hi there! What can I help you with today?”

“Is Terry here?”

Before the receptionist could open her mouth to speak, a male voice answered in her place.

“Now, I know my ears must be playing tricks on me because there’s no way that I just heard Gage Coleman’s little girl.”

A white-haired man exited a room which was marked ‘office’.

“No tricks, it’s really me.”

The older man pulled Leah into a quick hug before putting both hands on her shoulders as he looked her up and down. “It always scares me how much you look like your father. Although,” the man leaned in a little closer and stage-whispered, “you are way prettier.”

He shot her a wink before pulling away.

“Still a charmer I see. Do you mind if we take some of the guests out to play?”

“Not at all, go on back.”

Terry instructed the receptionist to give them both full access before he moved on to discuss business. Leah took Sy’s hand, leading him around the reception to the door that led to the back area. As soon as the door was open, the sound of barking reached Sy’s ears.

They passed a few different doors before they eventually reached the last one at the end of the hall.

“It’s best if you don’t try to reach into any of the cages. The signs on the doors will warn you of any potential behavioral problems or injuries that you need to be aware of. There’s a fenced area around back where we can play with them but I usually like to take them out on a walk first to let them roam and do their business.”

Over the course of the afternoon, Sy and Leah took all the dogs in the shelter out for a walk then to the back for them to run freely and play. That is, all but one.

When Sy had asked about the red card that was pinned to the cage, Leah said that it was because that dog was aggressive. At first glance, the dog didn’t look dangerous, cowering at the back of the cage but one of the vet techs had come in to feed him while they were in the room and the dog had started growling as soon as the tech had put a hand on the door.

They’d apparently been trying to socialize him in the two weeks since his arrival but no one had been able to open the door without being growled or barked at. 

“You can sit with him if you want. The same way we did with Aika. I wanted to talk to Terry before we left anyway.”

“Is it gonna actually help if he never sees me again?”

“Any potential adopter is going to be a stranger at some point. He needs to learn to trust people in general. You can sit in front of his cage with Daisy and give her belly rubs while he watches.”

Daisy was Terry’s elderly golden retriever. She was completely unfazed by anything and everything and was apparently used for socializing other animals from time to time.

At the mention of her name, she stood from where she was lounging on the floor and slowly made her way to Sy.

“I shouldn’t be too long but feel free to come find me if you get bored.”

Doing as Leah suggested, Sy sat down against the wall across from the cage. He didn’t want to risk Daisy getting too close and being bit. The pooch in question promptly followed his lead, rolling over for the promised belly rubs.

After a while, he figured the dog would also need to get comfortable with human voices so he decided to talk to him. And so, for the next half hour, Sy told the dogs all about Aika. He told the story of when he first saw her. How he’d been pissed off when someone had tried to shoot her. How he’d been heartbroken at having to leave her to die and the subsequent relief and ecstasy to know she’d survived. How she made the lonely nights less lonely. How she’d brought him and Leah closer. By the end, the dog had sat up, gazing at him with inquisitive eyes. 

This time, when he was forced to leave the dog behind, it was with the knowledge that the people at the shelter would do everything in their power to help him heal and find him a permanent home.

Chapter 28

[ellethespaceunicorn]

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