#follower request for mushy sy

[its--fandom--darling]

Cover Me Up

Pairing:; Captain Syverson x Fem!Reader

Song prompt: Cover Me Up by Morgan Wallen

Rating: F for Fluffy, hints at Angst. SOFT!SY

By the time that you and Sy got married, you’d lived what seemed like lifetimes together. Being together during numerous deployments, PTSD episodes and therapy sessions made your 6 years together feel like more. But despite the ups and downs, the two of you had come out on the other side stronger. You’d battled the demons, both yours and his as a team and conquered them.

You couldn’t have been more overjoyed to marry Sy, to become a Syverson officially after all these years. The ceremony was beautiful and the reception was fun, but the part that you were most looking forward to was the time after. You and Sy were bone tired and slightly drunk from the festivities by the time you got to your hotel room. You’d be leaving for your honeymoon tomorrow at noon and you were looking forward to passing out in the massive, plush hotel bed with your husband and sleeping off the wine you’d had. Sy had been uncharacteristically quiet on the ride home and once you’d slipped out of your dress, into one of his t-shirts and taken your first full breath of the day, you approached him.

“Sy? Is everything okay?” you ask, softly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his neck.

              He grunts and then turns his head towards you. “Yeah, I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

You furrow your brow, “Why are you nervous? We’ve already gotten through the hardest part of today.”

              He kisses your head, “Cuz I’ve got one more present for you and I’m trying to work up the nerve to give it ya.”

You smile and kiss his jaw. “Baby, you know I’m gonna love anything you get me.”

              He smiles, “I know, alright, let me get it.”

You slip your arms from his shoulder and settle yourself on the bed, tucking your legs under you and pulling his shirt over your knees.

              He shakes his head when he sees and moves towards the closet in the corner. Sliding open the door, he pulls out his beat up guitar case.

You smile and chew at your lip. “Baby, when’d you learn to play?”

              He clears his throat and opens the case, tenderly running his fingers up the neck of the guitar before plucking the acoustic instrument from his case. “Highschool, but I stopped playing for a long time, only just recently picked it up again.”

You shake your head, “I’ve been with you for six years and married you before finding out that you play guitar?”

              He laughs and shrugs the strap over his shoulder before settling onto the thick coffee table. “Like I said, I haven’t played in years, but once I decided I wanted to do something special for ya today, I was racking my brain and I came up with this.” He strums the guitar tentatively taking a  moment to tune it before clearing his throat.

“Oh my god, are you about to sing for me?” You ask, your heart in your throat.

              He gives you a shy smile. “Yeah, bug, I am.”

“Oh, Sy, you know how much I love it when you sing,” you murmur, wetting your lips.

              “Bug, you can’t start crying before I even start to play.

You huff a little bit, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

              He clears his throat again and lets his fingers begin to float over the string, forming the chords with ease.

After the first few notes, you recognize the song and your throat seizes. He’s playing your song, the song that had gotten you through so much, the song that had come to stand as a pillar of everything that you’d been through and how your love for each other could get you through it. You felt a tear run down your cheek and he hadn’t even opened his damn mouth yet.

              Finally, he begins to sing, “A heart on the run keeps a hand on the gun, You can't trust anyone, I was so sure what I needed was more, Tried to shoot out the sun, The days when we raged, we flew off the page, Such damage was done, But I made it through, 'cause somebody knew, I was meant for someone.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat as the tears start to stream down your cheeks, you close your eyes against the tears and let the timbre of your husband’s voice wash over as he goes into the chorus.

“So girl, leave your boots by the bed, We ain't leaving this room, 'Til someone needs medical help, Or the magnolias bloom, It's cold in this house and I ain't going out to chop wood, So cover me up and know you're enough, To use me for good”

              Sy looks up at you and stops, “Bug, are you alright?”

You open your eyes and nod at him, “Please keep going, I’m alright, baby.”

              “you sure?”

You nod, eagerly, sniffling. “I’m sure, Sy. Finish your song.”

              He nods, swallows before resuming the song at the second verse. “I put your faith to the test, when I tore off your dress, In Richmond on High, I sobered up, I swore off that stuff, Forever this time, And the old lover's sing, “I thought it'd be me who helped him get home”, But home was a dream, One that I'd never seen 'til you came along. So girl, hang your dress out to dry, We ain't leaving this room, 'Til Percy Priest breaks open wide, And the river runs through, And carries this house on the stones Like a piece of driftwood, Cover me up and know you're enough, To use me for good”

You watch him closely, never having seen the side of your husband, the musician, watching his face closely, you admired his long lashes and the smooth slope of his nose and the cut of his brow, until you noticed a stray tear as he hit the last chorus. So many memories, good and bad were tied to this song for the two of you and couldn’t help but move from your spot on the bed and slip onto the coffee table behind him to cling to Sy as he finished out the last chorus, his strong voice wavering slightly.

“So girl, leave your boots by the bed, We ain't leaving this room, 'Til someone needs medical help, Or the magnolias bloom, It's cold in this house and I ain't going out to chop wood, So cover me up and know you're enough, To use me for good, So cover me up and know you're enough, To use me for good”

His thick fingers play out the last chords slowly and you tuck your head into his neck, brushing your lips there.

“Thank you, Sy, it was perfect,” you whisper, against his skin. He unhooks his guitar strap and leans forwards enough to free himself from it and then rest back against you.

              “You’re welcome, Bug. I couldn’t think of anything else to give you.”

You shake your head slightly. “This is the only thing that I could have ever needed besides you.”

              “Thank you for loving me even though I’m bull-head most of the time. You’ve treated me with such tenderness in times when I treated you with such anger.”

You pull your face from his neck and press a kiss against his cheek. “And I’d do it all over again if it meant that I’d get this moment, right here, right now with you. I love you.”

              He sighs and turns slightly to look at you. “How’d I get so lucky, Bug?”

You shake your head. “The God Lord and lots of luck,” you tease.

              He rolls his eyes, “Seriously, thought, (y/n/n), I owe you so much.”

“You owe me nothing but our future. The past is behind us, we’ve made it through it so we don’t have to look back. You went through it to get to this moment and we made it. Let’s not relive it. Sy, baby, you can let it go.”

              He sighs and leans back against you as his body relaxes. “I love you, Bug.”

You kiss his cheek again. “I love you too, now, let’s get into bed because I’m exhausted and we’re gonna have a long day tomorrow.”

              He nods, sleepily, but pushes himself to his feet and takes you with him, piggybacking you across the room to the bed. He sets you down gently and strips to his boxers before approaching the bed. “Bug?”

“Yeah?” You ask, already snuggled under the covers.

              “Can we spoon?”

You nod, “Of course, do you wanna be the little spoon or the big spoon.”

              “Can I be the little one tonight?”

You smile at him and lift the blankets, “Of course, come on.”    

              Your massive, bear of a husband, breaks into a sweet grin before sliding under the covers and letting you wrap yourself entirely around him. He heaves a huge Sy as he relaxes into your touch once more.

“Goodnight, Sy,” you whisper against his ear.

              “Goodnight, Mrs. Syverson.”

You smile into his neck and close your eyes. You splay your palm against your husbands chest and let his strong, steady heartbeat lull you to sleep.

 Tagging: @foodieforthoughts thank you for requesting mushy sy @persephone-is-here-omg @angryschnauzer @salimahbicharara-comun @summersong69​ @feralrunaway​ @henrythickcavill​ @hope-to-hell​ @hoeforhenry​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @hell1129-blog​ @cavillryarchive​ @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ @soldatsaleannan​ @madbaddic7ed​ @connieisland​ @poledancingdinos​ @gearhead66​ @tapismyforte​ @maizyistrash​ @cavillsbestgal​ @geralt-of-baevia​

[foodieforthoughts]

My little spoon Sy 🥺❤️

Thank you @its--fandom--darling this was absolutely perfect! Soft Sy is the best Sy I tell you. 😭

Cover Me Up

Pairing:; Captain Syverson x Fem!Reader

Song prompt: Cover Me Up by Morgan Wallen

Rating: F for Fluffy, hints at Angst. SOFT!SY

By the time that you and Sy got married, you’d lived what seemed like lifetimes together. Being together during numerous deployments, PTSD episodes and therapy sessions made your 6 years together feel like more. But despite the ups and downs, the two of you had come out on the other side stronger. You’d battled the demons, both yours and his as a team and conquered them.

You couldn’t have been more overjoyed to marry Sy, to become a Syverson officially after all these years. The ceremony was beautiful and the reception was fun, but the part that you were most looking forward to was the time after. You and Sy were bone tired and slightly drunk from the festivities by the time you got to your hotel room. You’d be leaving for your honeymoon tomorrow at noon and you were looking forward to passing out in the massive, plush hotel bed with your husband and sleeping off the wine you’d had. Sy had been uncharacteristically quiet on the ride home and once you’d slipped out of your dress, into one of his t-shirts and taken your first full breath of the day, you approached him.

“Sy? Is everything okay?” you ask, softly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his neck.

              He grunts and then turns his head towards you. “Yeah, I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

You furrow your brow, “Why are you nervous? We’ve already gotten through the hardest part of today.”

              He kisses your head, “Cuz I’ve got one more present for you and I’m trying to work up the nerve to give it ya.”

You smile and kiss his jaw. “Baby, you know I’m gonna love anything you get me.”

              He smiles, “I know, alright, let me get it.”

You slip your arms from his shoulder and settle yourself on the bed, tucking your legs under you and pulling his shirt over your knees.

              He shakes his head when he sees and moves towards the closet in the corner. Sliding open the door, he pulls out his beat up guitar case.

You smile and chew at your lip. “Baby, when’d you learn to play?”

              He clears his throat and opens the case, tenderly running his fingers up the neck of the guitar before plucking the acoustic instrument from his case. “Highschool, but I stopped playing for a long time, only just recently picked it up again.”

You shake your head, “I’ve been with you for six years and married you before finding out that you play guitar?”

              He laughs and shrugs the strap over his shoulder before settling onto the thick coffee table. “Like I said, I haven’t played in years, but once I decided I wanted to do something special for ya today, I was racking my brain and I came up with this.” He strums the guitar tentatively taking a  moment to tune it before clearing his throat.

“Oh my god, are you about to sing for me?” You ask, your heart in your throat.

              He gives you a shy smile. “Yeah, bug, I am.”

“Oh, Sy, you know how much I love it when you sing,” you murmur, wetting your lips.

              “Bug, you can’t start crying before I even start to play.

You huff a little bit, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

              He clears his throat again and lets his fingers begin to float over the string, forming the chords with ease.

After the first few notes, you recognize the song and your throat seizes. He’s playing your song, the song that had gotten you through so much, the song that had come to stand as a pillar of everything that you’d been through and how your love for each other could get you through it. You felt a tear run down your cheek and he hadn’t even opened his damn mouth yet.

              Finally, he begins to sing, “A heart on the run keeps a hand on the gun, You can’t trust anyone, I was so sure what I needed was more, Tried to shoot out the sun, The days when we raged, we flew off the page, Such damage was done, But I made it through, ‘cause somebody knew, I was meant for someone.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat as the tears start to stream down your cheeks, you close your eyes against the tears and let the timbre of your husband’s voice wash over as he goes into the chorus.

“So girl, leave your boots by the bed, We ain’t leaving this room, 'Til someone needs medical help, Or the magnolias bloom, It’s cold in this house and I ain’t going out to chop wood, So cover me up and know you’re enough, To use me for good”

              Sy looks up at you and stops, “Bug, are you alright?”

You open your eyes and nod at him, “Please keep going, I’m alright, baby.”

              “you sure?”

You nod, eagerly, sniffling. “I’m sure, Sy. Finish your song.”

              He nods, swallows before resuming the song at the second verse. “I put your faith to the test, when I tore off your dress, In Richmond on High, I sobered up, I swore off that stuff, Forever this time, And the old lover’s sing, “I thought it’d be me who helped him get home”, But home was a dream, One that I’d never seen 'til you came along. So girl, hang your dress out to dry, We ain’t leaving this room, 'Til Percy Priest breaks open wide, And the river runs through, And carries this house on the stones Like a piece of driftwood, Cover me up and know you’re enough, To use me for good”

You watch him closely, never having seen the side of your husband, the musician, watching his face closely, you admired his long lashes and the smooth slope of his nose and the cut of his brow, until you noticed a stray tear as he hit the last chorus. So many memories, good and bad were tied to this song for the two of you and couldn’t help but move from your spot on the bed and slip onto the coffee table behind him to cling to Sy as he finished out the last chorus, his strong voice wavering slightly.

“So girl, leave your boots by the bed, We ain’t leaving this room, 'Til someone needs medical help, Or the magnolias bloom, It’s cold in this house and I ain’t going out to chop wood, So cover me up and know you’re enough, To use me for good, So cover me up and know you’re enough, To use me for good”

His thick fingers play out the last chords slowly and you tuck your head into his neck, brushing your lips there.

“Thank you, Sy, it was perfect,” you whisper, against his skin. He unhooks his guitar strap and leans forwards enough to free himself from it and then rest back against you.

              “You’re welcome, Bug. I couldn’t think of anything else to give you.”

You shake your head slightly. “This is the only thing that I could have ever needed besides you.”

              “Thank you for loving me even though I’m bull-head most of the time. You’ve treated me with such tenderness in times when I treated you with such anger.”

You pull your face from his neck and press a kiss against his cheek. “And I’d do it all over again if it meant that I’d get this moment, right here, right now with you. I love you.”

              He sighs and turns slightly to look at you. “How’d I get so lucky, Bug?”

You shake your head. “The God Lord and lots of luck,” you tease.

              He rolls his eyes, “Seriously, thought, (y/n/n), I owe you so much.”

“You owe me nothing but our future. The past is behind us, we’ve made it through it so we don’t have to look back. You went through it to get to this moment and we made it. Let’s not relive it. Sy, baby, you can let it go.”

              He sighs and leans back against you as his body relaxes. “I love you, Bug.”

You kiss his cheek again. “I love you too, now, let’s get into bed because I’m exhausted and we’re gonna have a long day tomorrow.”

              He nods, sleepily, but pushes himself to his feet and takes you with him, piggybacking you across the room to the bed. He sets you down gently and strips to his boxers before approaching the bed. “Bug?”

“Yeah?” You ask, already snuggled under the covers.

              “Can we spoon?”

You nod, “Of course, do you wanna be the little spoon or the big spoon.”

              “Can I be the little one tonight?”

You smile at him and lift the blankets, “Of course, come on.”    

              Your massive, bear of a husband, breaks into a sweet grin before sliding under the covers and letting you wrap yourself entirely around him. He heaves a huge Sy as he relaxes into your touch once more.

“Goodnight, Sy,” you whisper against his ear.

              “Goodnight, Mrs. Syverson.”

You smile into his neck and close your eyes. You splay your palm against your husbands chest and let his strong, steady heartbeat lull you to sleep.

 Tagging: @foodieforthoughts thank you for requesting mushy sy @persephone-is-here-omg @angryschnauzer @salimahbicharara-comun @summersong69​ @feralrunaway​ @henrythickcavill​ @hope-to-hell​ @hoeforhenry​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @hell1129-blog​ @cavillryarchive​ @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ @soldatsaleannan​ @madbaddic7ed​ @connieisland​ @poledancingdinos​ @gearhead66​ @tapismyforte​ @maizyistrash​ @cavillsbestgal​ @geralt-of-baevia​