#Syverson Family War

[viking-raider]

Syverson Family War

Summary-> You've just gotten off a 12-hour shift at the hospital, only to return home and get swept up into a Syverson Family War, between your husband and three children.

Pairing-> Austin "Sy" Syverson/Reader

Word Count-> 3.2k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Light Teasing, Soft!Sy, SAHD!Sy, Nurse!Reader

Inspiration-> This Instagram Video (If this isn't Sy vibes, idk who Sy is!)

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You were more than excited to be home after a nearly twelve hour shift at the hospital. Your back throbbed and your feet were screaming at the top of their arches from running up and down the ER department. You didn’t even bother gathering up your tote of stuff, as you got out of your car, since you had the next two days off. So, they would wait until a two hour long bubble bath and a nap with eternity.

But upon entering your modest, two story Ranch house, you were bombarded by silence. Your eyes narrowed as they scanned the dining room to your left and living room to your right, ears pricking up for the slightest movement from the bedrooms upstairs.

Something was clearly off. It was almost never this quiet in the Syverson household.

There was always some sort of ruckus or chaos in motion. Your husband blasting music in the garage, where he had set up a small work-out area or telling off whatever game was playing on the enormous tv in the living room. If it wasn’t Sy, it was a combination of your three kids. Your two boys wrestling each other over a toy or giggles, or your daughter discovering a new, little critter from the backyard and bringing it in, before promptly losing it. Or all three kids getting into mischief with each other somehow.

But when it was silent, you knew there were real shenanigans afoot.

You drew in a deep breath, mustering what energy you had left inside yourself, for Syverson Madness. “Guys! I’m home!” You called out, swinging the front door shut with a little more strength than usual, as you moved a step deeper into the powderkeg. “What are you nuts up to?” You mumbled to yourself, moving towards the living room, still trying to keep yourself alert for any kind of trap or scare.

Little good it did, as a strong hand suddenly grabbed your elbow and yanked you backwards into the dark portal of the laundry room door, with a yelp. The hand shifted to your mouth and the door closed with a soft click.

“Ssshh.” Sy cooed at you, moving his hand away. “Gotta keep quiet, Sugar Butt.” He chuckled at you.

You could hear the smirk on his bearded face, before he clicked on the tactical flashlight he was carrying. You looked him over in the dim light, discovering him in his full Army tactical gear, minus his bare feet. He even sported his night vision goggles clipped to his helmet.

“What in the he-” You were about to demand, scanning him again, but spotted one of your son’s Nerf Rifles strapped to his back. “Give me that!” You huffed, gobsmacked, as you took the light and started checking him and the laundry room out. “Good Lord, Almighty!” You laughed, shaking your head.

He had a Nerf pistol in his thigh holster, a pump gun on the dryer, a blaster beside that, and copious amounts of ammo on the washer, with pop grenades. Which you knew were filled with either baby powder or flour from the last time a Syverson War had been declared on the house.

You looked up at your husband, bottom lip trapped between your teeth for a moment. “How long has World War Syverson Seven been going?” You asked, completely amused by how lost Sy got into playing with your kids, and how much they loved it when he did.

Sy looked at his watch. “Since just after breakfast. Myles chose violence and shot Ada in the back, while she was trying to color a picture. Tears ensued, which caused Colt to declare revenge on Myles, in Ada’s name.”

“You got roped into this, how?”

“Ada got in on it, insisting she didn’t need a man to defend her honor…”

“That’s my girl.” You chuckled, smirking.

“It is.” Sy laughed back. “But, in defending her own honor, she shot me in the leg, while I was trying to get them to chill out.”

You nodded your head, seeing all the pieces fall into place. “Which, obviously, by the Syverson Code, requires you to defend your own honor.”

“Obviously, Angel!” Sy answered, faking outrage. “You should know that, after fifteen years!”

“Fifteen years, and I’m still jotting things down in the Syverson Code of Conduct booklet!” You laughed, shaking your head, there were a lot of things Sy lived and would die by.

They were many of the things that made your heart swell with love for the burly, ex-Army vet.

“So, how do I configure into this madness?”

“You just got home from a super long shift, Sugar.” He answered, brow pinching. “You’re an innocent bystander. I just had to save you before one of those hellions out there shot you.”

“My savior.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes and kissing him. “My back and arches appreciate you.”

“The Lair is off limits, per usual.” He informed you. “We just have to make it out of here and upstairs.”

“Quite the way.” You commented, mentally mapping your and Sy’s route out of the laundry room, through the living room and entryway, then finally up the stairs and home free to the master bedroom, which was referred to as the Lair, where you could rest without having to worry about the family war.

“All right, Captain, what’s the plan?”

He gave you the Syverson wink and reached over your head, there was a sharp click and from outside the laundry room, you heard the kids’ screech. Sy had thrown the power switch to the house, plunging it into the darkness. You chuckled, smirking, understanding his tactic now.

“Stay close.” He whispered to you, clicking his ammo to his vest on, before moving to the door. “The enemy is sneaky and uncivilized.” He said, pressing his body against it, listening carefully to the other side.

“Like their father.” You mumbled under your breath with a snort, huddling yourself against his back.

“I’d say more like their mama.” Sy commented back, reaching back to pop you on the bum, then slowly cracked open the door.

You shuffled out after him, casting glances over your shoulder every few seconds. It was easy going, getting through the living room. Sy had defended it mightily throughout the day, so the kids had become shy about entering their father’s domain. You trusted Sy to protect you, from everything, your kids included. Silly as that was to think.

“We have movement at 12!” Sy called out, catching your nine year old, Myles, through his night vision in his fort, consisting of the dining table and chairs that he was hunkered down underneath, belly crawling from one end towards the other, closing the gap between himself and the entryway. “He’s under the table. A sneaky little sniper boy.” He snickered, shouldering the Nerf-AR resting against his side.

You scrunched yourself up behind Sy’s wide and muscular back as Nerf Darts started whizzing by, striking the scuffed wood floor or sticking to the walls. Both Sy and Myles laughed maniacally as they shot at each other; tossing weak insults on top of it.

“Milk drinker!” Myles shouted, hustling to reload.

“Lizard eater!” Sy shot back, smirking.

“Now, boys!” You scolded weakly, snorting.

They continued their assault, Sy guiding you towards a pocket the bottom stairs provided coming down into the foyer, allowing you to take cover and him to shoot through the bars of the steps.

“Are you hit?” You asked, playing along with the game.

“Nothing I’ll die from.” He answered, reloading his weapons. “But, you can be a good nurse and kiss them all better.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“That’s cheating!” Myles yelled out.

“Well, If I was over there, I’d do the same thing to you, Bud!” You called back, planting a kiss on Sy’s cheek, his well-groomed beard tickling your skin.

“An aid relief truce then?” Myles suggested, poking his head out from under the table.

“Certainly not!” Sy barked back, popping a Nerf dart off over his son’s head, sending him scurrying back into his fort. “She’s my nurse! I found her out wandering the battlefield, unprotected. If you wanted her to be your nurse, you should have found her first, yourself!”

“I almost did! Before you kidnapped her!” Myles huffed, hotly. “You’re holding her hostage!” He suddenly insisted. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll rescue you!”

“Oh my, a hostage situation.” You sighed, licking your lips. “I appreciate your devotion, son.”

“Ha.” Sy scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, boy. I’m escorting this lovely lady to the Lair.”

As Sy and Myles argued over who was going to have the pleasure of accompanying you upstairs, you caught a slight movement behind you and Sy, lurking in the darkness of the living room; moving slowly. It vanished behind the couch, and for a moment you thought it was just Aika, but when something popped up over the back of the couch, then quickly ducked down again, you were then positive it wasn’t the old girl. But your Daddy’s girl, Ada. Of all the children, six year old Ada was the most like her father. She’d been attached to Sy’s hip from the moment she left your womb. Hanging on Sy’s every word, movement and action, that sometimes it spooked you.

So, watching her stealth around in the dark of the living room was both impressive, amusing and a tad terrifying. Especially since you knew the little hellion was coming for revenge on her father and brother. There were no alliances between them during a Syverson war. You were the only ally allowed to go between the four of them. Mending wounds, mostly pretend ones, but sometimes there were real ones. Sometimes, you’d team up with one of them, to take on the other three.

“On your six! In the living room, babe!” You warned, snagging the Nerf pistol from Sy’s thigh holster as he reacted, purely by instinct, removing one of his baby powder pop grenades, tossing it behind him without looking, trusting your instruction.

Ada startled, surprised that you had noticed her, followed by a cloud of baby powder obscuring her view. She came to a halt, upon hurdling the back of the couch, in an attempt to overtake you and Sy. You took aim and fired, the Nerf dart hitting her square in the chest.

“Nice shot, hon.” Sy nodded, patting your leg, then called out to his daughter. “Sorry, Cricket, but that’s a kill shot.” He told her, his voice soft, but uncompromising.

Ada huffed, pressing her lips together. “Not fair, Mama isn’t supposed to shoot us! She doesn’t have anything to avenge!” She protested, crossing her arms.

Sy chuckled, cocking his head at her. “Mama has her own special rules in our Wars, you know that, Cricket.”

“I’ll come kiss it better, but you know Daddy’s five minute rule.” You chimed in, feeling bad about it, you honestly hadn’t meant to hit her, it was just a lucky shot.

But rules were rules. You could go and kiss her boo-boo better, allowing her to enter the War game again. However, Sy had made a rule that anyone hit with a Kill Shot had to be dead for at least five minutes, before you could render aid to them.

“All right.” Ada sighed, before flopping to the floor with a dramatic sound.

“Where were we?” Sy asked, then nodded. “Right, Myles, kindly allow me to escort my Nurse upstairs.”

“No deal, Pops.” Myles replied, shaking his head.

“Can I just go upstairs on my own?” You asked, peeking at your son through the spindles of the stairs.

Myles was quiet for a moment, considering. “Only if I get to keep you to myself for an hour!” He finally answered.

“Oh, he drives a hard bargain, that son of yours.” You teased Sy, tickling the back of his neck.

“That he does.” Sy agreed, shivering, as he brewed over Myles' offer. “You can have her for thirty minutes!” He negotiated with him.

“Thirty minutes!” Myles barked in outrage.

“You have to go to bed in two hours, boy!” Sy reminded him.

“So, give her to me for an hour!”

You smirked and pressed your palm to the base of Sy’s neck, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear, so only he could hear you. “Let him have me for the hour, Austin. I’ve been gone for twelve hours, and they have to go to bed in two. It’ll give me a little bit of time with them.” You reasoned with your husband. “We’ll have all night together after they're asleep, and the next two days, when they're at school.”

Sy nodded, rubbing his lips together. “You’re right.” He whispered back to you. “All right, you can have her for an hour, after you let her go upstairs and do what she pleases.”

A muffled yes came from the dining room. “Deal! You’re free to come out, Mama!”

“Thank God! I have to pee really bad.” You chuckled, kissing Sy, before scurrying out of your hiding place with him and started up the stairs, as you reached the top, you wondered where your middle child, Colt, was.

The seven year old was oddly missing in action the whole time the rest of you were battling and negotiating downstairs. As you reached the top, a cry filled the air, startling the life out of you, before a fury of Nerf darts peppered you all over.

“COLT!” You howled at the boy, dashing for your bedroom door and taking cover behind it.

“Colt Nero Syverson!” Sy’s voice called up the stairs. “You know the rules about firing upon your mother!”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Colt’s soft voice whimpered in the dark to you. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s fine, little man.” You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Just mind yourself.”

“Okay, Ma.” He smiled, ducking back into his hiding place; his room.

“Oh, this family.” You sighed again, closing the door and rushing for the en suite, tugging off your shoes as you went. “Ooo.” You cooed, enjoying the feeling of the icy tile on your bare, throbbing feet.

Bladder empty, you splashed some cool water in your face, then got out of your nursing scrubs, replacing them with a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. You laid down on your and Sy’s enormous bed, dozing off for a couple minutes before getting back up to fulfill the promises you made to Ada and Myles.

“Colt, I’m coming out, please don’t shoot me.” You called through the crack you opened in the bedroom door.

“Okay, Mama!” He called back.

Coming out of the room, you stood at the top of the stairs, but frowned and turned, heading down to Colt’s room. “What are you doing, buddy?” You asked, peeking around the doorframe, seeing he had made a little barricade and was hunkered down behind his bed. “Why haven’t you come down to challenge your dad, brother and sister?”

“Oh, I have, Ma!” He answered, his smile showing off the two front teeth he lost a month before. “I’m just waiting for the most opportune time to go back downstairs to finish off whoever is left.” He sat up on his bed a little more, eyeing you. “How many of them are left?”

You smirked at him, slyly. “You know I’m not allowed to give away information to someone, especially if I’m not teamed up with them, little man.”

“Poop.” He huffed, slapping his mattress and sitting back. “Do you wanna be on my team?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sadly, your Papa had to bargain me off to your brother for an hour, so I could go to the Lair and change.” You informed him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “But, how about this? When it’s bedtime, I’ll come and read to you, whatever you want.”

“Eragon!” He gasped, enthralled again.

“Deal.”

“Deal!”

“All right, wee man, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at bed time.” You cooed at him.

You headed back downstairs, pausing on the middle landing. “I’m coming downstairs, don’t shoot!” You announced to Sy and Myles.

“All clear!” They both called back.

You joined them downstairs, finding them just as you left them.

“Mommy, can I be alive again?” Ada called to you from her spot behind the couch.

“Yes, love, I’m coming right now to fix your boo-boo.” You replied, crossing the entryway and leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There, sweet girl. All healed and alive again. Off you trot. Why don’t you watch a movie on your tablet, until bedtime?”

“Thanks, Mama!” She giggled, hugging your waist, then ran off.

With your daughter resurrected, you joined Myles in the dining room, and despite the soreness in your body, got under the table with him. “Just you, Colt and your Papa now, big man.” You told him, propping your head up on your hand. “Tough crowd.”

“But I got you, Mama.” Myles countered. “You can heal all my wounds.”

“Mm, that I can.” You nodded, casting your eyes past the table legs and made out Sy’s outline. “But, that’s about all the energy I’ve got for you. Bringing your sister back to life took a lot out of me. So, I can’t help you fight either of them.”

“That’s fine. I can finish them.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers through his tamed, black curls. “I have all the faith in the world in you, my sweet boy.” You cooed at him, lovingly.

“Moooom!” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Time’s wastin’, kid!” Sy called out.

“You stay here, mom. I’m gonna sneak around.” Myles said, wiggling back up the table towards the back entry of the kitchen.

“I’ll be here.” You replied, propping your head up on your hand, eyes drooping for a moment.

At least, you thought it was for a moment, until you felt a pair of strong hands grab your ankles and yanked you out from underneath the table, startling you awake from the nap you dozed into.

“Jesus.”

“Naw, just me, Angel.” Sy grinned, helping you up.

“Where’s Myles?” You asked, rubbing at the sleep in your eyes and noticing he wasn’t in his tactical gear anymore, but just a pair of shorts.

“Out cold in bed.” He answered, steadying you with his hands on your hips.

“But…” You frowned, glancing at the stairs over your shoulder.

“Colt came down not long after Myles tried sneaking around me through the kitchen.” Sy explained to you, a proud little glint in his blue eyes. “Took out both of us, the little rascal.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “We found you asleep and they understood you had a long day, and would spend time with them tomorrow, after they came home from school.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest. “What in the world would I do without you?” You cooed, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know what we would do without you.” He replied, encasing you in his muscular arms and resting his chin on top of your head, rocking gently. “Let’s go to bed, love.” He whispered, scooping you up off your sore feet and carried you upstairs, to bed.

You moaned softly, sinking into the mattress as Sy tossed the blankets over you and kissed your temple, before joining.

[augustsprincess]

Updated commission post! To summarise, all artwork is $25 per hour. If you're interested or have any questions (even just about art), message me here!

[peyton-warren]

Fluffy Syverson Recommendations

@cynic-spirit asked on my post here for Fluffy!Sy fic. I decided to start a new post to try to gather some steam to get them recommendations. Here are mine in no real order other than how I found them doing a search. Please add more in comments/reblogs and I will continue to update this list as we go.

Loopy by @pterodactylterrace <<<< Possibly my FAVORITE ALL TIME FAVORITE SY FLUFF!!

The bear and his honey by @gummydummy19

Sweetest things by @mayloma

Syverson Family War by @viking-raider

A Year in Apartment 6B by @gummydummy19

Untitled Mother's Day Fluff by @geralts-yenn

Three-Jump Cowboy by @peyton-warren

Buns in the Oven by @littlefreya ( i cant believe I forgot this one in my original post!!)

More Angst than Fluff but I love them anyway:

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by @ellethespaceunicorn

The Bell Tower by @thesaucynomad

List of Sy Writers, Alphabetical (mainly so I avoid duplicates) but not inclusive of all Sy Writers:

@angryschnauzer

@beck07990

@cardierreh15

@captainsy-cookiemonster

@deandoesthingstome

@dungeonpuppykai

@ellethespaceunicorn

@feralrunaway

@geralts-yenn

@gummydummy19

@hope-to-hell

@imyourbratzdoll @keanureevesisbae

@jamneuromain

@just-chirpin

@littlefreya

@loganbcrnes

@martha-oi

@mayloma

@mrsevans90 @notabronte @oddsnendsfanfics

@peternoonewantsthat

@peyton-warren

@poledancingdinos

@pterodactylterrace

@raccoon-eyed-rebel

@ramp-it-up @rmtndew

@shellyshellshell

@shewriteswhenthewordscome

@sillyrabbit81

@sweetandgentlecreature

@swiss-mrs

@thelastsock

@thesaucynomad

@thezombieprostitute

@viking-raider

@winter2112rose

@witchersmistress

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether

Disclaimer:

Do not mean any offense to anyone not on the lists above. This is meant only as a start! Will build as more folks provide more stuff. Also check comments for more recommendations. I did not add stories that were added below to the above list. And a number or writers provided links to their master lists.

[kilojulietsierra]

Letters From Home - Syverson x OFC (WWII AU)

I know I haven't posted in for friggin ever, but I am writing. I promise!

This particular one I blame on my current obsession: Band of Brothers (which in case you were curious, yes I have stories in progress for that too) and my constant love for Captain Syverson lol So it's kind not exactly a crossover but it's def inspired by!

Summary: Set during WWII. Noah Syverson like many others joins the Army and volunteers for the paratroopers. Just before he ships out he runs into a girl who asks if she could write him while he's off fighting.

Warnings: 18+ content, no smut but less than appropriate behavior and language, mentions of death, war, nightmares, PTSD, mention of pregnancy, happy ending

~~~~~~~~

Joanna was jogging down the steps of the courthouse, done with her work for the day and her mind already on her plans to go dancing tonight with her friends, and paid no mind to the two men in uniform walking down the street until she ran straight into one of them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Easy there." The one she ran into caught her around her upper arms as she bounced off of him.

She looked flustered as she got her feet under her once again, "Oh geez, sorry." She faltered a little as she looked up at the man still halfway holding her upright, just in case.

"You're alright." He gave her arms a gentle squeeze and stepped out of her way.

Joanna gave each of the men a polite smile, eyes darting between them. Both tall and wide with easy, matching smiles and nearly identical blue eyes. Their uniforms clean, sharp and their posture proud. When she continued on her way she spared one glance over her shoulder to where they had just started walking again.

As for the men they strode on down the sidewalk past the regal old, southern style courthouse and towards downtown. The older of the two glanced back at the retreating girl, "Wasn't that Henry Garrisons little girl?"

The man's younger brother scoffed, glanced back for himself, most folks still referred to her as that simply because compared to her four, older brothers, she was still very much the 'little girl' of the Garrison Family. "Yeah, it was."

"Bet you wouldn't mind bumping into her again, huh?" His older brother gave him a good natured shove.

Noah Syverson gave his oldest brother a shove right back. Not that he'd admit it out loud, but no, he wouldn't.

Luck was on his side because later that night he did just that. Allbeit a little less accidental than the first time. "Well, hello again." Syverson came to stand close behind her at the refreshments table.

To her credit she didn't flinch of anything, just turned to face him with a smile.

"So this is why you were in such hurry earlier?" He smirked down at her, his back straight and his eyes drilling into hers.

"Maybe." She smirked back at him before turning back to the table and accepted a glass of punch. "When do you ship out?"

"Train leaves tomorrow mornin'." He shook his head when the woman behind the table offered him a glass.

Joanna nodded, "Two of my brothers are already over there," Her face was softer, her smile a little less bright. "Where are you headed?"

Sy hadn't really thought out what he might talk to her about, but he hadn't expected it to be the war. He gestured off to one side, silently asking her over to a quieter side of the hall. "First to training. Won't tell us anything 'till after we make it through that."

She sipped at her punch and nodded, "One of the ladies at work said you and your brother both volunteered to be paratroopers."

His smirk grew a little wider, imaging the ladies at the courthouse gossiping about the local young men over the clack of their typewriters. "Yes ma'am. Didn't realize it was town news though."

Joanna had the good, Baptist decency to blush and look the tiniest bit embarassed. "Just gossip for now." Her eyes flicked back up to his, such a pretty, Irish, green. She was smirking again against the lip of her glass as she added, "They won't run it in the paper until y'all jump into Germany."

That got an honest chuckle out of him and he liked the way her eyes sharpened as she gave him the verbal jab.

Joanna Garrison had been in the same grade as his youngest brother, Able, both of them graduating high school just last year. He vaguely recalled the few times he had mentioned the Garrison girl. The one that came to mind just then was how Able had told him about her having to stay late for a week during their ninth grade year. She'd been been made to clean chalkboards as punishment for talking back to a teacher, one too many times. She was spunky.

"So how long have you been working at the courthouse?" Noach redirected the conversation away from himself.

"Just since school. Dad pulled a couple strings to get me in the typists pool while we wait to hear back about college." Mr. Garrison was the Sheriff and a military man himself back in the first World War. Joanna followed up her answer with a question of her own, "Why the paratroopers?"

Syverson sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and thought for a minute. "Everyone says they'll be the first ones in." He knew that wasn't much of an answer but he didn't really have a better one to offer her. "You know where your brothers are?" Noah redirected the conversation away from himself once again.

She must have noticed, but didn't say anything. Instead she gave a slight shrug and scanned the crowd packed into the hall. "Junior is in Italy, Greg was in North Africa somewhere last letter we got but that's been several weeks. Then, uh, Sean is in basic training right now and Connor is waiting for orders."

Sy nodded. Wondered what is was like for the parents and the sisters, or the brothers too young. He wondered what it was like for her to have the brothers she'd grown up with all ripped away and thrown overseas. He tried not to think about his own mother. What it meant for her to have her own sons not only to be leaving for war, but to have volunteered for the hardest and most dangerous profession they could.

"You sure have a lot of letters to write." Sy gave her a grin, sneaking a look at her, up and down, trying to memorize they way she looked standing there in front of him with a kind smile and those pretty green eyes. He wouldn't be any more forward than that. He had no right to be. He barely knew the girl but she was pretty, and smart and he was leaving tomorrow.

"I don't mind." She cocked her head slightly to one side and smiled.

He caught her giving him a once over of her own and had to fight back the urge to push his luck.

There was no need because she added, "I wouldn't mind writing one more."

Sy nearly broke out in a wide smile at her indirect and nearly cheeky offer. Instead he licked his lips and ducked his head, with his back straight and his hands behind his back, he stepped just a bit closer and stood at her side. "Just be sure not to use any big words. Remember, I'm just a simple, country boy."

She smiled and even rolled her eyes, and boy did that please him. Joanna locked eyes with him, "I'll do my best."

~~~

Noah,

I have to admit, I'm nervous to write this letter, I'm not sure what to write at all if I'm honest.

I realize now that we really, hardly know each other at all. I do hope to change that though, and so I will write. Even if i'm not sure what to say.

Hopefully your training is going well. I read an article in Life Magazine this week about Paratroopers; the training you will have to go through and though it sounds hard for certain, I have faith that life on a west Texas ranch has probably prepared you better than some of your fellow soliders.

You'll have to tell me about them. I have to admit I''m curious what all kinds of men you'll be fighting with. What kind of man decides to go and do this dangerous thing?

As far as home goes, it is mostly the same, and I'm sure not nearly as interesting as the training you are doing.

I hope you are well and I hope you are able to write.

Joanna

~~~

Joanna,

I was glad to get your first letter. Don't worry about what to write. I'll be happy to read whatever it is.

I'm lucky to have a pretty girl from back home writing me. I hope I can keep your attention long enough to get more.

We've been told not to write home about much of what we do but I can say the training is hard yet satisfying and we have a good bunch of boys here. From all over. Country boys like me and plenty from small towns and big cities like Chicago, New York and San Francisco.

I'm sorry this letter is so short. Something you should know about me is I'm not a man of many words. But, I promise I look forward to your letters and will write whenever I can.

All goes well, by the time you receive this I'll be an Airborne Paratrooper.

Noah

~~~

Dear Noah,

I was so happy to receive your letter, as short as it was. There's no need to apologize for that. I can only imagine there's much more for you to do there than just write to me.

I ran into your mama in town the other day and she was beyond pleased to tell me about her sons the paratroopers. She's very proud of you. I iamgine we all are here, in our little town so far removed from what you are about to do.

For what it is worth I am very proud of you.

I feel a little foolish telling you that I'm about to go off to the teachers college in Austin. Considering where you are about to be off to. But I do feel much safer telling you than anyone else, that i'm scared I'll find I'm not as smart as some have led me to believe. I guess we will find out. I've also never been so far from home. I realize how silly that sounds in a letter to you, all things considered.

Truthfully I find some strength in that. If you can go across the country, across the sea to the other side of the world to jump out of planes and fight Nazis, well, then surely I can survive a few years at a big, fancy college.

I'll include my address at the dorms so your letters can still find me. I've read that the paratroopers will be shipping out soon. If that's true I hope that you and the boys are strong and brave and as superior as we all believe you to be.

Until your next, Joanna

~~~

Jo,

We are staging in England for now, more training.

I never would have guessed I'd be jumping out of airplanes. It's terrifying but I enjoy it.

The area we are in reminds me a little of home, except much cooler and greener. But the people are friendly and it's farm country. From here Lord only knows where we will go. There's lots of talk but that's all it is for now.

You'll do fine at college, I'm sure of it. I'd rather jump out of a plane with no parachute. I know you'll do well.

I can see you as a teacher. But if you'd been mine you'd probably get sick of trying to get me to pay attention. None of the teachers I ever had were as easy to look at as you, I know I'd have been in trouble.

I don't know how often I'll be able to write after this but I hope you'll keep writing. It will give me something to look forward to, catching up on all your letters.

Noah

~~~

Noah,

College is much different than I imagined. Some days I think I would also prefer jumping from a plane with no parachute. My classes are okay, for the most part. Except for maths, I've never been good at it and to be completely honest could care less. The professor is not my favorite either. That does not help.

I read about the invasion of Normandy in a paper at the Library and I pray that you are well and safe and fighting. It seems to be the only thing people are talking about right now. Part of me will be holding my breath until I hear from you and know that you are safe. As safe as you can be at least.

From what I've heard you were trouble in school to begin with, even with the 'not so easy to look at' teachers we had in our little hometown.

But, I admit I enjoy knowing knowing you seem to think I'm distracting.

Your friend, Joanna

~~~

Noah,

I'm tempted to quit reading the papers because they only make me worry.

You asked me to write and so I will continue to write, until I get a response of some kind.

College has gotten easier, or rather I've settled in I suppose. I've made friends with a few girls on the floor in my dorm. All of them from small, middle of nowhere towns like you and I. They're nice girls and I'm glad I found them.

I'll be going home for Christmas soon and I plan on dropping in on your folks if that's ok.

Will y'all be able to celebrate? Do you even feel like celebrating? Hope to hear from you soon,

Joanna

~~~

Noah,

I think more than anything I'm writing this letter for myself. To say the things I can't say anywhere else.

My brother Gregory has been killed in action.

They notified my parents yesterday morning. Dad called me and had to tell me over the phone.

I've never heard him sound the way he sounded on that call and that nearly broke my heart. Even more than the loss of my brother. Hearing the pain in my fathers voice was so painful I could hardly breath and I feel as though my head is empty. I could not bring myself to go to class today. What's the point?

I'm so angry. I don't even know who I'm angry at. War? Can I be angry at war? I find myself so angry that all I can do is cry. I sob and weep until I feel sick to my stomach and then my head goes all fuzzy and empty again.

I don't know what else to say other than I hope you are okay.

Joanna

~~~

Jo,

I'm sorry it's been this long and I'm sorry to hear about your brother.

I know more than most you see everyday that there are no words. Your brother was a good man and I'm sure a good solider. You should be proud of him and you have every right to be angry. Just promise you will take care of yourelf.

I'm fine. I survived the jump in Normandy and a dozen other engagements since. I was shot in the leg not that long ago in Holland, nothing serious but it got me a scar and a purple heart. It was the stay in the hospital that let your letters catch up to me so I am glad for that.

The way things are going I don't think we'll get much of a Christmas. I hope that you are able to spend the time with your folks and find some peace in that. I

know I haven't been able to write but I do think of you. In the little, fleeting moments those of us on the front lines get. We try not to think about home much, but when I do I think of you. I hope that's okay.

Noah

~~~

Noah,

Your letter was a relief. More than I could have imagined. I'm glad you're okay aside from the new scar.

I leave for home tomorrow morning and won't be back at school until after the New Year. I think the time back home will help but it will be hard.

I'm sorry I don't have much to say this time.

I promise I will write you more when I am home.

And yes that is certainly okay. Reading that you think of me made me smile for the first time in a week. I think of you often and hope to hear from you soon.

Joanna

~~~

Noah,

Merry Christmas!

The holiday has been hard. Church was nearly unbearable with everyone offering condolances. I prayed for you and for the boys. I hope you are all well but especially you.

I went and visited your folks today. I'm sorry, but I hope that's okay. Your mama was sweet and fed me lunch even though I insisted I had just eaten. She told me all about you and your brother the paratroopers. Especially you. She said that I'd like you the best and she'll invite me over for dinner once you're home again. I

didn't mention that we'd been exchanging letters since you shipped off. I'm not quite ready to go back to school yet but I also can't imagine staying home for much longer either.

Can you tell me anything about where you are and what you're doing? If not I understand. I think I might like to know.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Yours Joanna

~~~

Jo,

I've never been as cold as I've been this winter. I can't write much about where we are without the Army blacking it out or pulling my letter all together. Just know that going is hard but we keep going. A couple of my buddies caught me rereading your letters while we here huddled up in a foxhole trying not to freeze to death. They gave me hell and made me tell them all about you.

It took our minds off things for awhile. They're still riding me about it. About my girl I've been keeping a secret.

I know I have no right to think of you that way let alone talk about you that way. But I do, consider you my girl.

Damned if I hope you don't hate me for it.

Noah

P.S. Everyone here calls me Sy, the only time I hear or see or even use my given name is in these letters.

Noah,

It's funny you should say that. Just the other day, in the library, a girl was sitting with us and prattling on about how she was so scared for her boyfriend who was working as a clerk for some officer in Paris and how he told her he might have to go with him to some station close to the front.

I was sleep deprived from studying and on edge and... well I may have snapped a little. Went off about how my boyfriend had jumped into Normandy with the Airborn and was wounded in Holland so her boyfriend could sit safe and sound at some desk and suck on his paper cuts.

I'm not proud of my behavior I admit, but I will admit I feel better knowing you might not be too awful upset with my actions.

Tests are coming up and I think the stress has been getting to me. I'm almost looking forward to the summer just so I can go back to my job at the courthouse typing in the pool. But then, I suppose, I'll just have to go back and finish the second year before I can work as a teacher. I hope that by then you will be home.

Your girl,

Jo

~~~

Jo,

I probably told every guy in my company about what you said to that girl in the library. Every one of them laughed, even the CO. He says I'm a lucky guy. He's right.

We had a rough go here recently but we are somewhere relatively quiet now and we are sleeping with a real roof over our head. When we cleared the town I may have taken the COs advice and sent you a package. It cost me 2 packs of cigarettes to get it mailed so be sure you let me know that you got it.

I don't think we'll be here long but we are trying to make the best of it we can.

Don't be mad but I did get wounded again, nothing major, just a chunk of shrapnel in my side. It tore through my canteen so it didn't do as much damage as it could have. Our doc fixed me up so I didn't have to go back to aid station.

I'm trying to make it home in one piece. I promise. Noah

~~~

His letters were less frequent after that but they still came and she was grateful for each of them.

She had been shocked when the first package of silver trinkets had arrived. There were several of those through the next year. Beautiful hand mirrors, cups, cutlery and once an ornate silver picture frame that had taken her breath away.

Her roommate had watched her open that package and made a snarky comment. "Does your Lieutenant boyfirend have any fellow paratroopers looking to send some spoils of war home to a nice girl from Dallas?"

Jo had included that in her next letter, smirking as she had written it.

Sy had even responded that she should be careful what she wished for.

There was a long gap in his letters after that. Though she continued to write, knowing from experience that if he were alive the Army would eventually get her letters to him.

Finally one came, shorter than nearly all the others. In it he told her he'd been promoted once again, to Captain now, and he had no idea how or why. The way he saw it he was still just a simple country boy from Texas there to do a job.

In her response Joanna had pointed out to him that if she had to guess, the promotions were becuase he did his job and did it well.

She was in her last semester of college when she got this biggest package of loot she'd yet recieved and quite possibly the longest letter he'd ever written her.

Jo, I

don't have the words to describe to you the beauty of where we are now, but I promise you one of these days I'll do whatever it takes to bring you here to see the mountains.

They're something you have to see to believe.

Some of us have never seen anything like this place. It doesn't even feel like we are fighting a war anymore.

We were able to take control of a town, nearly every house in it was packed with fancier shit than we had ever seen. I won't even tell you what it cost me to send this package but me and the boys, we couldn't help ourselves. As always we were the first ones in and there was no chance we weren't taking everything we could carry.

Some letters from my ma caught up to me here and in every one of them she mentions you. You made an impression.

The picture you sent was a pleasant surprise. Just as beautiful as I remember.

Part of me hopes the war is really over and if I could I'd be there in time for your graduation I would. I'm proud of you.

A few of the guys in my company have had a hard time with their girls back home. Letters stop, or worse a letter comes telling them she's tired of waiting. A couple guys have even found out their getting divorced by letter.

I'm grateful for you and your patience. Believe me when I say that when I come home I'll do right by you. God willing that's soon. It feels like it might be.

Noah.

~~~

It's the week of the county fair when Sy finally comes home. HIs older brother is the one that convinces him to put their uniforms on and go to the street dance that night. He wouldn't admit it but he was looking for her the second they stepped out of the old truck. He and his brother had been bogged down by boys and men alike shaking their hands and wanting all the stories. Sy let his brother do most the talking, that's how it had always been, and that gave him the chance to look around.

When he finally saw her she was with a group of girls off to the side, a big group 7 or 8, most the girls hanging on every word some weak chinned little privates were spewing. Not her though, she was sipping her punch and smiling politely, eyes glazed over and a million miles away. Setting his jaw he gave his brother a pat on the back and headed that way.

She didn't notice him right away, not until he came to stand behind the privates and straightened his back. "You boys given these ladies a hard time?" One of them turned around to smart off but they both immediatly snapped to attention and answered, "no sir" Sy nodded his head to the side and they slunk away, defeated. The women fawned and blushed, everyone of them batted their eyes and given him their prettiest smile. Not Jo though, her eyes were narrowed, then flicked briefly back behind her eyelids as she smirked. She did blush after he'd held her gaze a little too long but on her it was the most beautiful damn thing. "Miss Joanna, I was hopin you'd walk with me a bit, maybe let me have a dance."

After they had left the gossiping group of girls safely behind them, Joanna spoke, "I don't know how many letters I wrote you but now I feel like… with you here in front of me I don't know what to say." She chuckled a little at herself.

"You don't gotta say nothin' if you don't feel like it. I'm perfectly happy to just walk with you."

She blushed again, smiled and looked down at the ground, "So am I."

They had walked the length of their little hometowns main street and had turned around again. The music growing louder as they came up to the edge of the crowd. Joanna looked up at him almost shy, "You mean it earlier when you said you'd like to dance?" Sy had pushed her around the street to the next song and his chest puffed out when at the end of that song she had shooed away a young man asking for the next dance, wrapping herself around Sys arm instead.

This song was slower and Sy took the opportunity to finally get her talking. She'd always had so much to say in her letters and he had looked forward to hearing her ramble on the way he knew she would. Thus far she'd been holding back on him. "Y'know I bet I hadn't been home half an hour before my Mama was tellin me all about that good Garrison girl down the creek that had been stoppin' by."

Jo laughed and rolled her eyes a tiny bit, "Is that so?"

"It is." Sy tugged her a little closer, "Tellin me all about how pretty she was and sweet, smart too, sayin' she's just graduated from the teachers college and everything."

"Sounds like a hell of a girl." Jo was fighting back a smile, her cheeks still the half embarrassed pretty pink color they'd been since he'd stood in front of her earlier.

"That's what I said." He was grinning now. "She backhanded me for cussin in the house but she said she's plannin' on inviting this girl to dinner Sunday after church and I better be on my best behavior."

That finally got a real laugh out of her, "And how did Captain Noah J. Syverson take that?"

The song stopped but he didn't let her go, "Like any good southern man would," He paused not able to hold back his smile, "I said yes ma'am" Both of them laughing he guided them out of the crowd to a quieter spot against the brick wall of the bank. He watched her lean back against the wall and tilt her chin up at him smiling and her eyes bright. "God you're gorgeous." He pulled his lip between his teeth and studied her intently, "I was worried, it had been so long maybe I had built up this…fantasy of you, readin' your letters and thinkin' bought you."

Joanna's eyes went wide, her heart pounding all the sudden.

"You're so beautiful Joanna, I mean it."

She shook her head, her words not coming right away and Sy had got the slightest bit nervous, "You called me Jo in your letters." She smiled softly and his nerves settled

Understanding Sy nodded, 'I'd like to come by tomorrow, visit with your folks. Would that be okay?"

"Why you wanna do that?"

Sy smiled, "You've had the last few yaers to get on my family's good side, I got some catchin' up to do."

~~~

He didn't really have that much catching up to do.

When he showed up at the ranch in his uniform with his paratrooper patch, captains bars, jump wings and ribbons, that had been enough for her father. And lord knows every 'yes ma'am' and clumsy wink as her mother refilled his coffee cup was gaining him ground.

Sometimes Jo would get twisted around. They'd been writing like sweethearts for years, but now every time they were together she felt like a silly, little girl. Nervous and blushing. She'd nearly forgotten how tall he was and how handsome. He'd put on muscle too and his face had changed. Not the look of it but his eyes mostly, the way he set his jaw and the way his eyes were a little harder than other boys in town. The ones that hadn't seen what he had.

It felt like they were getting to know eachother all over again, only in person this time. Syverson was a patient man though, and gave her time. He'd known he was gonna marry her from that day in the freezing fucking forest of Bastogne. Swore up and down to himself that if he made it home, he'd marry her.

She came around fast though, got more comfortable with him. Soon she was rolling her eyes at him and cracking jokes.

She was the one that kissed him first even.

They'd gone to the next town over for dinner and when he'd opened the door of his truck for her she turned. Her hands grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to kiss her.

Sy had been nothing but a gentleman those first few weeks but when she pulled that stunt his resolve faltered.

WIth a groan, one hand still braced on the truck door, he wrapped his free arm around her and held her close. He felt the air rush out of her as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. When she opened her mouth to his he groaned again, nearly a growl, and she gave up the sweetest little moan when he had backed her up against the seat of the pickup truck.

WIth both hands he touched her. Some decent part of him reminding him to keep it together. Only holding her hips or her waist, until one hand vetured up to softly cradle her neck. His touch there made her moan again and this time he felt it in his fingertips.

Finally he pulled back and just looked her over, his thumb under her chin keeping her face tipped up towards his. Her eyes opened slowly and when they did, and met his, she grinned. Biting her lip she tried to look away but he brought her right back. She licked her lips as she fought to hold his gaze.

"C'mere darlin'." Sy watched her eyes slip close and her mouth open before he could even claim her lips again. The way she let him press up against her and nipped at his bottom lip was driving him crazy.

The sound of a slamming car door down the street startled them both but all Sy could do was laugh. Looking over his shoulder to locate the source of the sound before ushering her up into the seat. His broad back blocking her from view he stole one more kiss. "Could do that a long time." He murmured against her lips.

Jo kissed him back but looked a little bashful again. "Yeah?"

Cautiously, he put a hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze over her skirt. "Mhmm." He took another quick kiss. When he pulled back, looked her in the eye, she was smiling. "I love you, know that right?"

She reached a hand up to his jaw and ghosted her fingers over the scruff of the beard he was growing, "You sure?"

He chuckled, grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm, "Pretty sure darlin'." Sy winked at her and forced himself to step back, close the truck door and walk around to the drivers side.

When he climbed in and pulled his door closed she slid across the bench seat and kissed him again. This time her hand was braced on his thigh and Jo took charge. Sy let her, with a groan and a hand on her waist to keep her steady as she very nearly was in his lap.

By the time Joanna pulled back Sy was trying to catch his breath and his dick was getting hard, so close to where her hand laid on his thigh. Lifting his hand to her face he pulled her back, "Damn baby," He kissed her, sloppy and quick, and pulled her closer. "What's that for?" He swiped his tongue into her mouth, letting her know he wasn't complaining.

Her lips diverted from his and settled near his ear while her hand left his thigh to lay flat against his chest, "Love you too." Then she sat back and stopped touching him entirely.

WIth a groan Noah clenched a fist around the steering wheel and fought the urge to adjust himself in his pants. When he looked at her she was just stilling there, middle of the seat looking pretty and sweet, innocent as could be if it weren't for her swollen lips and flush on her neck and cheeks.

"Not sure if that was you being sweet or bein' real mean sweetheart. But fuck if I didn't like it." Sy laughed and started the truck. He smiled when she laughed too, not flinching at his foul mouth.

She simply slid back and closed the little distance between them on the seat. Settling into his side as Sy started the truck up and draped his arm over the back of the seat and around her shoulders. "You better get off your ass and marry me soon then Syverson."

Sy barked out a laugh, taking his left hand off the wheel to shift the truck into second gear rather than move his right from around her shoulders. Steering properly again he looked over at her, "Oh yeah? Or else what?" He tugged slightly at the end of her braid where it hung long and neat over her shoulder.

"Or else I'll start bein" really mean." She winked at him, before kicking her long legs up on the bench seat and leaning back against him.

Taking his hand off the wheel again to shift the truck up into third as he got them out on the highway, he smiled when he felt her lace her fingers through his and he gave them a squeeze. "Roger that."

~~~

Joanna wiped the ornate, silver frame gently with the rag in her hand. Thinking about how far the thing had traveled and how it had came to be in a little farmhouse in Texas. Taking a moment she looked at the picture in it. Noah in his uniform, pressed and sharp, decked in ribbons, and her in her wedding dress. Her mind wandered and she didn't hear him come up behind her.

His arms wrapped around her waist and his lips landed on her neck, "What you doin' darlin'?"

"Thinkin'."

He kissed her neck again, "'Bout what?"

She set the frame, stolen from some Nazi's home in Austria, gently back on the shelf. "What if I hadn't ran into you leaving the courthouse that day?"

Behind her Sy stood up straight, turned her around and set his hands low on her hips. "What'ya mean?"

"You barely knew me from Adam." She looked up at him, set her now empty hands on his broad chest and appreciated the way he had filled out in the years he'd been home. "If I hadn't come down those steps and bumped into you, we might never have been here."

Sy sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, as he often did when he had to think on his feet, "I'd have seen you at the dance."

"But you'd seen me at dances before. I know it. You never spared a look at a me." She arched her brows and challenged him.

"Now that," He reached down and grabbed a handful of her ass, "Is not true." He drilled his eyes into hers and leaned in close. "I spared you plenty of looks before. You, on the other hand, didn't have the time of day for me 'till you saw me in uniform." He gave her ass a swat this time as he chuckled.

She shoved at him playfully but licked her lips and met his gaze headon, "That…" she started before cracking a laugh of her own, "Is beside the point."

"I knew it!" Sy barked as he grabbed her up by the thights and carried her to the dining table, where he set her down and stepped between her legs. His hands stroking up and down her thighs as he leaned back down to kiss and nip at her neck. Smiling against her soft skin as his beard tickled her there. "All I know," He began still mouthing at her neck before moving up over her jaw and across the apple of her cheek. "Is I'm damn glad it all happened how it did."

Jo smiled against his lips as he kissed her deeply. She smiled even wider as she felt his hands slip under her sweater and his thumb stroke over the very beginning of the swell in her belly.

~~~

If he were honest, her question a bit ago had thrown him. What if she hadn't bumped into him that day?

Given the time to think about it later, with his pregnant wife naked and dozing draped across his chest, her hand resting on the scar in his side. She always paid the most attention to that one, and her fingers always found it as she bregan to drift off.

He wondered if he would have had the guts to approach her at the dance. He liked to think so.

Sy wouldn't ever tell her, but in his mind if she hadn't bumped into him on the courthouse steps that day... well... He might not have spoke to her ever. And when he thought of that he always wondered if he even would have survived the jump into Normandy. Or would he have froze to death in a foxhole without her letters to give his mind a break from the looming dispair.

Would he have been the leader he was if she wasn't on the other side of the world to be proud of him? Would he still have been the man that could charge German lines and command the respect of men enough to do the same?

Possibly worst of all he thought would have been if he had survived the war, but not had her to come home to. Would the nightmares and the lonlieness been too much for him alone?

How could another girl who hadn't been with him through it all understand the way he could stare across the pastures, not really seeing? Would another girl have tolerated the nights laying in bed beside him shivering, his body still thinking he was in that frozen forest? Or the way even now he would still sometimes flinch at a loud noise, expecting and incomming round that never came? Could another girl stand beside him at a funeral of a brother that came home but never really came home?

In her sleep Jo's hand flexed at his side and it brought him out of the spiraling thoughts. Instead he focused on her steady breathing and peaceful face. When he fell asleep that night there were no dreams, just the warmth and comfort of her beside him.

~~~~ The End ~~~

This is the first time I've written for Sy and i'm very attached to it! I have a few other ideas for him floating around so if y'all might be interested sure to let me know!

Thanks for reading!

[swiss-mrs]

MASTERLIST

greetings through the screen!

i'm swiss, a jack of all trades, currently a writer. as i've married into the sanchez family, i, too, transverse the mulitverse. at this convergence, i am the master.

choose your path, enjoy your adventures, and safe travels.

EDDIE MUNSON

Life Eternal (Series, Ongoing)

Party Girls (One Shot)

Evermore (Series, Ongoing)

Special Places (One Shot)

Boyfriend!Eddie (Drabble, Plus Sized/Mid Sized Reader)

Senior Year Sweethearts (Drabble, Sinclair!Reader)

Along for the Ride (One Shot, Collab🥰)

PORTALS (Random HC/AU) Intro, PORTALS I,

JOSEPH QUINN (RPF)

Catching Joe's Attention at a Club (Drabble)

STEVE HARRINGTON

Haunted Haus (One Shot, Request, Goth Club Owner!Reader)

DAVE LIZEWSKI

#WEIRD☆GIRL (One Shot)

Theater Kid (One Shot)

STEPHEN HOLDER

(Coming Soon)

CAPTAIN SYVERSON

Black Velvet (One Shot)

Your Shotgun Rider (One Shot, Request, Black Velvet pt.2)

Second Chances (One Shot, Request)

CLYDE LOGAN

Domesticity (One-Shot, Request)

Employee Development Plan (One-Shot, Request)

Let There Be War (Series, Ongoing/Hiatus)

KYLO REN/BEN SOLO

Padawan and the Princess (One-Shot, Request)

Swisslist (General Taglist): @rosecentury @solacedthistest

[viking-raider-library]

Captain Syverson x Reader

Keys: ✽ - Complete, ✽✽ - Hiatus, ♥ - Mature, ✢ - Sensitive Content

Updated: 13 May 2024

Thankful 🍗/✢

Syverson Family War

Lucky Bear

[spreadyourwingsc]

Sy and  Soirse. Prologue.

Disclaimer, this is the first story i’ve ever written and published., its not proof written, its not checked, nor researched, this was literally just words that came flying out of my mind. Captain Syverson’s character is not my own, he just lives 24/7 on my mind, Soirse, just came to me watching an Soirse Ronan’s interview, and again, I dont know her, I dont own her, this characters just shares her names, and maybe the hair, but she’s not the person i intend to portray here, i am also, not irish, nor know a lot about of irish culture, all this just came to me while watching these irish actors in a movie that have nothing to do with this, nor Sand Castle. 

Please do not copy it also, if you do youd be stealing, and what does that say about you if youre stealing fan fiction. 

If any of my content is similar to another person, it is not my intention, i havent read every fanfiction that there is in the world but i have read my share, and while ive had some influence on them, its not my intention to copy anybodys work, i admire y’all way too much for that, but the moment somebody points out that this is a copy of somebody elses work or that its similar, i will delete, because that is the last thing that I want. 

with that said please enjoy this little experiment, im going through some hard feelings right now, and i will probably delete it after i overthink a little too much. but i hope this bring a little joy to your day, also if somebody wants to help me better this or help me finish it, it would be greatly appreciate it. 

Prologue

Logan Syverson is from Alpine texas, born and raised to Betty and Joseph Syverson, only boy, had a fairly normal childhood, father was military man, honorary discharge when Sy was a teenager. Sy was star of football team at Smalltown Alpine High, was an all around boy, polite, strong, educated, his mom doted on him and made sure he was a true gentleman, he’d spend his summer working with his dad at his workshop, Sy wanted to follow his dad footsteps in the military once he graduated against his mothers wish. But she was not going to stop him and was proud of him nonetheless., 

His dad was his typical Texan rancher, doted on Sy’s mother, they were high school sweethearts, and like being in the military and missed Sy’s birth and was not home he decided one son would be enough and once he was discharged he was glad he could be there to help Sys mother, even though sometimes she felt he missed his war filled days. 

While Sy was growing up he had his fair share of ladies, and how could he not. He was a sight to look at, when preadolescent hormones started to kick in, and the models on the magazines were more interesting than the toy cars, there was no going back for him. Sy loved his ladies like the next man, of course, with the respect they all deserved, for that reason he never found himself in a steady relationship.

That is until Saoirse (Sorche) came in. 

With very strong Irish background both her grandparents on her father side, had migrated to the states while not even being married, and started a new life, that’s how then Saoirse's dad  Conner Walsh was brought to this world, grew up in another small town in the US , adopting the American life and ways, and eventually meeting Saorise’s mother in New York, a city girl by all means, who got swept away by this irish-american redneck.

When they were about to have their 5th baby, Conner, decided he’s had enough of the busy city life and decided moving his big family of 7 to country side, considering a small town upbringings, not wanting his kids to get lost in the hustle of the city, at least until they would be old enough to decide if they rather it, or not.

Soirse Walsh was born on a hot summer day at Marfa, texas local hospital, a screaming scrappy baby with blonde reddish hair and the brown eyes, she was soon to be a storm to be reckoned with. Being the youngest of 5 children, and the only girl of a boys clan. While she was growing up, her mother was happy to finally have a female company around the house, her dad was ecstatic to have a little princess to spoil and dote alongside his wife. But the brothers were having none of that, while they loved and swore to protect her dearly, the teasing and bullying was always present, not to create trauma, but to create character. 

So when she’s stepped on Smalltown Alpine smalltown high, the school of the town over since her town was small it didn’t even have a highschool, her brothers long gone graduated all gone too soon to face their own choices in lives, one became a parent too early, but honored his father roots and became a family man, the other preferred to move to the hustle city , and other straight up joined military forces, while all different they all had in common that they all succeeded in whatever their craft were, making their parents proud and making her lovely mother hang up pictures in her wall of every accomplishment, everyone in Marfa, knew about the Walsh’s boys and how great they were at life. Which left out little Saoirse with a bar really high to climb. 

At 13 started in the new school, Saoirse still didn’t know what she wanted out of life,  she knew she liked swimming, and even considered the Olympics from time to time, doing well in her competitions, but she also was on the rougher side, she loved to hang around in the fields, and had a big interesting In bugs, and all the things not considered “girly”. When she was the only one kid left at the house her father made sure she knew how to take care of herself and even though they were six of them, never be dependent of a man, so she learned how to change a tire, how to ride a motorbike, and how to change the oil of her car. Her biggest proud moment was how she learned how to drive shift. All thanks to her dad and the brothers.

--

Thanks for reading!

[catierambles]

Cavill Characters and their FFXIV classes (imo)

August Walker: Black Mage (magical ranged DPS - Scepters or Staves)

In days long past, there existed an occult and arcane art known as black magic—a potent magic of pure destructive force born forth by a sorceress of unparalleled power. Those who learned to wield this instrument of ruin came to be called black mages, out of both fear and respect for their gift. Yet great power served to corrupt the judgment of mortal man, and so he unknowingly set out upon the path of ruin. Adventurers who take the black will become agents of devastation, capable of annihilating those who oppose them through little more than the force of their will.

Captain Syverson: Warrior (Tank - Greataxes)

On the northernmost edge of Abalathia's Spine exists a mountain tribe renowned for producing fearsome mercenaries. Wielding greataxes and known as warriors, these men and women learn to harness their inner-beasts and translate that power to unbridled savagery on the battlefield. In former times which saw war waged ceaselessly in Eorzea, the warriors featured prominently on the frontlines of battle. With the arrival of peacetime, however, their art has descended into the shadows of obscurity, where it remains to this day.

Mike: Machinist (physical ranged DPS - Firearms)

The war with Dravania rages on, brutal and unrelenting. With no end in sight, the Holy See grows desperate. As her dragoons lay down their lives in defense of their home, Ishgard turns to technology to protect her sons and daughters. Great cannons and ballistas now line the city walls, plucking dragons from the sky.

Following the example of Cid Garlond, who has demonstrated the potency of magitek, the Skysteel Manufactory works tirelessly on the development of advanced armaments. As new and devastating weapons are brought to the fray, a new class of champion arises to wield them―the machinist.

Geralt: Dark Knight (Tank - Greatswords)

The pious Ishgardian clergy guide the flock, and the devout knights protect the weak. Yet even the holiest of men succumb to the darkest of temptations.

None dare to administer justice to these sacrosanct elite residing outside the reach of the law. Who, then, defends the feeble from the transgressions of those meant to guide and protect them?

A valiant few take up arms to defend the downtrodden, and not even the holy priests and knights can escape their judgment. Pariahs in their own land, they are known by many as “dark knights.”

These sentinels bear no shields declaring their allegiance. Instead, their greatswords act as beacons to guide the meek through darkness.

Walter Marshall: Paladin or Gunbreaker (Tank - Sword and Shield/Gunblades)

For centuries, the elite of the Sultansworn have served as personal bodyguards to the royal family of Ul'dah. Known as paladins, these men and women marry exquisite swordplay with stalwart shieldwork to create a style of combat uncompromising in its defense. Clad in brilliant silver armor, they charge fearlessly into battle, ever ready to lay down their lives for their liege. To be a paladin is to protect, and those who choose to walk this path will become the iron foundation upon which the party's defense is built.

The Hrothgar of northern Ilsabard have passed the art of the gunblade from one generation to the next. The weapon itself combines a sword with a firing mechanism, emitting a range of magical effects by utilizing aetherically imbued cartridges. Originally employed by Queen Gunnhildr's personal guard, they were once known as "Gunnhildr's Blades" and differ greatly from the similarly named weapons used in the Garlean Empire.

Charles Brandon: Dragoon (melee DPS - Polearms)

Of all the things that are symbolic of the nation of Ishgard, few are more recognized than the dragoon. Born amidst the timeless conflict between men and dragons, these lance-wielding knights have developed an aerial style of combat, that they might better pierce the scaled hides of their mortal foes. Taking to the firmament as though it were an extension of the land, they descend upon the enemy with every onze of their bodies behind the blow. It is this penetrative power that characterizes the dragoon.

[zealoushound]

Welcome home, Daddy

Summary: You were four months pregnant when Sy was deployed. One night after your son is born you’re woken up by a phone call: Sy has a surprise for you.

Pairing: Syverson x reader

Word Count: 1,489

Warnings: Fluff. Deployment of husband while reader is pregnant, breastfeeding.

A/N: This is my first story in a while. Sorry for the long absence but I had really lost my mojo there for a while. This story snuck up on me out of nowhere, and wouldn’t take no for an answer so here we are! Thank you guys for sticking by me and being patient with me.

Disclaimer: FEEL FREE TO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THE STORY! Writers live off reblogs! Do not copy any portion of my material to claim as your own. Do not repost my work, or any portions of my work on any site and claim it as your own.

***

Even in the beginning you knew this was going to be difficult. Not the pregnancy itself, more rather the absence of your husband during it.

Sy had been deployed when you were only four months along. Saying he did not go happily was an understatement. Unlike any of the others he’d been assigned, Sy fought this deployment tooth and nail. Ultimately he had been powerless to change his hand.

You’d reassured him that everything would be ok, and he’d be back in time to see the birth. You both knew that may not happen, but you both held onto the hope that you were right.

A month later you received the first phone call from him since his departure. He would have to stay until their objective was complete. Meaning there was no way he, or anyone else, could tell you when he would be home.

Over the next three months you, and the rest of the Syverson family tried like mad to make sure Sy would be home on the day of your induction.

The Army seemed to want the Captain to be there to witness the birth of his child almost as much as the rest of his family. Yet, given the location and the degree of difficulty pf this mission, he wasn’t going to be easily tracked down. Even with the powers that be making great efforts to get in contact with anyone on, or nearby, the Special Forces team that Sy was leading.

As fate would have it, your little one had different plans anyway. You went into labor two weeks early. They couldn’t reach Sy in time. He called you on a grainy Skype call two days later.

“Oh, Mama,” his breath caught as he spoke, “you did good. You did so good, sweetheart.” He beamed with pride over you and his little one. The two of you talked for a few more minutes before he called over someone passing by. “Hey Tommy, you wanna meet my kid?”

*

Two months later. You’d grown accustomed to the late night feedings, the mountains of diapers, and being spit up on. Not to mention you’d almost cracked the code behind your son's confusing cries.

Tonight was a bit different.

You woke to an odd noise and blindly reached for your phone. In your delirious, sleepy haze you tried to shush the ringing cell phone under your patting hand as if it were your baby.

When you realized what you were doing you rolled your eyes at yourself. Waking fully you reached again for your now silent phone on the nightstand.

The dim screen boasted the picture of you with Sy at the going away party his parents had held at their home. You were both in a Charlie’s Angels pose holding NERF guns. You couldn’t stop laughing long enough to make it a serious pose; Sy on the other hand wore the perfect war face.

The large white numbers read 2:12, beneath them in the notification bubble:

Sy

Missed Call

Your heart flip flopped. Quickly sitting up you jostled the sleeping infant next to you. Letting out a small startled cry, he calmed after hearing your soothing voice. Cradling him close to you caused him to root against your milk swollen breast so you offered to nurse.

You had planned to call Sy back as soon as your son was settled but he beat you to it. Before it even really rang you answered.

“Sy?!” You spoke excitedly in a hushed tone.

“Hey darlin’,” you melted hearing that deep southern drawl. “I didn’t wake ya now did I?”

“Yeah. It’s alright, it was almost time to feed him anyway. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted to call you while I had the chance.”

You smiled. Hearing his voice, no matter how far away, would always make you feel like everything was right in the world.

“I’m glad you did. We’ve missed you.” You looked down into the most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen. Little one was definitely going to look like his father.

“I’ve missed you both so much, darlin.”

Putting it on speaker you sat the phone back over on the nightstand. You sat back against the headboard and listened to Sy talk for a minute, realizing how clear his words were. Normally the service there was iffy at best.

“How’s our little one?”

“Good! He’s nursing now.”

“I thought I could hear those little grunts. Hungry little guy, aren't ya pal?"

Chuckling softly you looked down at your beautiful little boy. You heard the faint, but unmistakable sound of keys jingling together. Before you could ask him what he was doing he interrupted your thoughts.

“The Thompson’s never patched that hole in their garage door did they?”

“Nah, Janice told me Bill was going to, but their new dog likes running in and out of there like it’s a doggy door.”

Sy laughed. It wasn't a big laugh but it made your eyes well up with tears. You missed him like crazy.

“You know what we need?”

You made a soft hmm sound while checking on your son.

“Somma those solar light things for the driveway. Make it easier to see what the hell I'm doing out here in the dark. Wow, the rose bush really has really taken off.”

It was cute; Sy was being Sy again. He wasn’t grumpy or sad right now. He was rambling things off like he would if he were home. This conversation didn't feel rushed or crowded.

It was intimate, quiet.

Quiet.

No static. No iffy service.

Realization hit you.

“Sy, Missed call.”

That call had come from his personal phone.

When he was deployed it was either a foreign number or a blocked number that showed up. In Sy’s words, his personal phone was a ‘glorified paper weight’ out there.

He’s home.

“Sy?” Your voice caught in your throat.

“Yes baby?”

Your ears perked up instantly listening for any signs of your husband.

“Are you…” you trailed off.

You could faintly hear the front door opening slowly downstairs.

“Am I?” He asked with a calm, playful cheerfulness.

You heard the unmistakable thud of his worn combat boots on the hardwood.

You couldn’t speak. You just silently wept with joy.

Hearing his footsteps on the stairs you wondered if this was only a dream that you would eventually wake from. No this was real and the anticipation was killing you.

The top step. No matter what, Sy would always step on the creaky spot. It was like he couldn't avoid it no matter how he tried.

You waited.

*CREAK*

A whisper of “shit..” crescendoed into the phone and through the hall. You tried not to laugh too loud as your son's eyes had just begun to flutter back to sleep.

The phone disconnected as you saw his large silhouette enter the door frame. He paused for a moment; breathing in the smells of home, taking in the sight of you nursing his newborn son.

The bedroom floor groaned under his weight as he came closer, just as it always had. Sy undid his belt, his pants hit the floor at the foot of the bed. Shucking off his gray Army t-shirt, he climbed in under the covers to lay beside you.

You watched him carefully. His eyes had only left yours once since he walked in. You wiped the tears from your face as he settled in beside you. Sy looked down at the content, beautiful little boy that the two of you had made.

Sy reached out with a shaky hand. He wanted so badly to touch him but he was afraid.

“Can I?"

You nodded, "of course you can."

“I won’t hurt him or nothin’, will I?” His hand hovered over his face. “I won’t wake him?”

“Oh honey. No, you won’t hurt him. It’ll be ok if you wake him. He’s pretty good about sleeping though.”

Sy’s fingers gently stroked the top of his son’s head. He marveled at the amount of hair he had and you reminded him of all the times you complained with heartburn.

You just thought you couldn't be more in love with Sy. He leaned over and kissed the sleeping boy's forehead. Your son rewarded him with a brilliant Syverson smile.

“Are you ready to hold him?

Sy smiled bigger than you’d seen in months.

“Yeah.” He sat up on the bed as you turned to present him with his son. Placing the little boy in his arms you looked up to see Sy doing something you’d never seen.

Sy was crying. Unashamed, tears of joy poured down your war hero's chiseled face. His breath hitched as he spoke to his son for the first time.

“Hey little guy. I’m your dad.” More tears sprang forward for you both when his little hand grasped Sy’s wide finger.

“Welcome home, Daddy.” You whispered before kissing his cheek.

***

Pic edited by me, not my photo. I do not own Captain Syverson or Sandcastle.

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part 2

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 Two Summary: Syverson helps Lori pack for her trip and he struggles keeping his attraction in check. Sy (POV)

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

Word Count: Approx. 3.5k

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 Two Warnings: Syverson thirsting hard over Lori, implied smut and smutty thoughts, age gap, cigarette smoking, brief mention of death, angst, and sass.

Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who read, commented or reblogged Part One. It was really lovely to read such lovely things! I really hope you continue to enjoy the story.

My aim is to post a new part every Wednesday evening (my time). Thats the plan anyway!

Thanks heaps to @nashibirne for her quick beta read. You're the sweetest Possum ever.

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

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part One Part Three

Syverson

“Take care of yourself, Babycakes.” 

The old biker was wrapping his arms around Lori. She held him tight and her reply was muffled, but I saw him chuckle as he kissed her cheek in a manner that made me think of a father saying goodbye to his daughter. The contrasting ways that she farewelled her brother and Hustle was stark. 

The short dossier that Walker had written up for the girl obviously mentioned her close ties to the club; her father being the founding president and her brother taking over. However, it was surprising that her bonds were so strong considering she had barely had contact with them since she went to college. Although she returned to her hometown, she had appeared to have kept her distance from the brief that had been prepared.

She was obviously not as close to her brother as she was to Hustle. Although I shouldn’t, I wondered why. It shouldn’t matter to me; her familial relationships had no bearing on my mission set, but I found myself wanting to ask her.

I found myself wanting to know a lot about her. Too much. And I wasn’t the only one. 

After she waved goodbye to her ride, she turned to me with folded arms and an appraising look. Her eyes ran over me from head to toe, quickly like she had in her brother's office, but still intently.

I bit my tongue. Man, did I want to say something, make a quick jab or flirtatious remark, but I had to at least appear professional. So, I stood there with my arms folded across my chest in a mirror of her stance and let her look at me until she nodded.

“Do I have your approval?” I asked. Shit. I can’t keep my damn mouth shut.

The corner of her mouth twitched before she shrugged and I followed her with a smirk as she made her way through her apartment building's door and into the elevator.

She didn’t look directly at me again, but I felt her eyes on me as we rode the elevator to her floor. It was the first time I had seen her up close and she was even prettier than I thought. Her clear fair skin, her strong, rosey cheeks and the smattering of light freckles on her soft dainty nose, made her youth much more obvious too. 

She wasn’t completely innocent or naive despite her 23 years; that much was plain by the way she acted and spoke to her brother and Hustle. She had seemed reserved at the funeral, crying softly as her brother laid a seemingly hesitant arm around her. But in Hooks’s office, she showed smarts and backbone, standing up for herself without throwing a tantrum when she realised the seriousness of the situation regardless of her obvious feelings about being sent away. 

The air in the cab was full of her perfume, sweet like fresh citrus or something, and it was making my fucking mouth water. She only lived on the second floor, but it felt like forever as I got lost in watching her tongue dart out and wet her plump lips.

She moved slightly and I made good use of my peripheral vision to see her slide a stockinged foot out of her black heels and use it to rub the back of her calf. Holy shit. It had to be one of the single most erotic fucking things I had seen in my life.

“Your leg sore?” I asked in a voice so husky I almost didn’t recognise it as my own.

Lori looked at me confused as if she didn’t know what I was talking about. Maybe she didn’t, which made the moment feel even more salacious, as if I had just witnessed an intimate moment I wasn’t supposed to see.

I had to get out of this fucking elevator before I said something highly unprofessional.

“You were rubbin’ your leg.” Feigning disinterest, I waved a hand towards her feet that were now back in her shoes.

Her face smoothed out. “I don’t wear heels often.” 

The elevator dinged and I held my arm out, gesturing for her to go first. She put her head down and walked along the hall, stopping at the second door.

“You should,” I said, leaning my shoulder against the wall while she got her key out, “They look good on you.”

Yep. Real professional.

She paused and turned eyes on me that were so light blue they almost looked grey. She seemed unsure how to take what I’d said so I gave her a small smile. She stared back at me, holding my gaze for a few beats before she arched an eyebrow and opened the door to her apartment. 

“I’ll be sure to pack some then,” she said, only a little sarcastically.

I chuckled as I followed her through the apartment and into her bedroom. It was small but neat and bright. She had nice furniture, a lot of little kitschy shit on her shelves and books on her nightstand. 

I held out a small bag that would fit in my aftermarket saddlebags. “Only pack what ya need for three days, that’s it. If ya need more stuff when we get to the Clubhouse, you can buy it in town.”

“I’m not made of money, Syverson,” Lori said, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. “I can’t afford to just buy new things whenever I feel like it.”

I had to hold back a grin; it was rare when a woman wasn’t scared of me these days and I’ve got to admit, I enjoyed her attitude and the way her cute face looked when she got sassy.

Be professional.

“Your brother can. He’s agreed to pay for everythin’.” 

“Part of the contract?”

“Yes. He pays all your expenses.”

“I can’t believe he did all this without telling me.” She threw her arms up in the air. A little dramatic, but still adorable. 

“He’s just lookin’ out for ya, sugar,” I told her, “Like a big brother should.”

“He’s overreacting.” She snatched the pack out of my hand and went to a drawer, stuffing what looked like panties in the bag.

“He ain’t,” I told her solemnly.

Lori’s head whipped around fast, and she looked at me a little wild-eyed. I didn’t want to scare her, but I had to reinforce the seriousness of her situation.

“We do an assessment before we take on a case. There’s a definite threat. If there weren’t, we wouldn’t relocate you.”

“Is Nate going to be ok?” Her voice was small and she stared into the bag. 

Her question wasn’t expected. Most girls would ask about themselves, check their own safety, but she was more worried about her brother.

“He’ll have a better chance if he ain’t gotta worry ‘bout you,” I said bluntly. 

She wasn’t the first woman the Brothers had to protect, though she sure was the prettiest, and I found when it comes to women, there was no point in trying to sugar-coat the situation. They’re more likely to be pliable if they think that there is a real threat. In Lori’s case, I told her the truth because if she thinks staying away will help, then she’ll cooperate. At least that's what I hoped. I didn’t want her to try and do a runner on me. 

“Do you know who killed them?”

I almost asked her who they were. Fuck. Not only was I being unprofessional, I was also being an asshole. No wonder she’s so worried about her brother, she buried both her parents today. 

I ain’t cut out for this. 

When we drew straws to see who would be the one to pick her up, I thought I could do this, but it should have been Marshall, he’s used to dealing with victims, crying women. Hell, even Geralt would have been a better option than me. The only one of us who would have been a worse choice was Mike, but Walker had already vetoed him as an option.

“That’s not part of what I do.” Only years of being an Officer in my former life kept my voice from being too empathetic.

She nodded and went to her closet, bringing out a couple of pairs of Kevlar jeans, t-shirts, a motorcycle jacket, helmet and gloves. It was good that she’d ridden before, I won’t have to worry about her fucking up my balance and shit. 

Not that she could really, she had to weigh half what I did. She wasn’t a petite girl, a little on the tall side, though I still towered over her. She had nice curves, a soft and nicely rounded ass, cute little titties too, nice and high on her chest. Watching her for the past week had given me a lot of opportunities to admire her feminine form so I knew what to expect but God damn, being so close to her was distracting. 

Fuck. She was looking at me. There was no way she couldn’t have seen me checking her out. Ah fuck it, I grinned at her; no point hiding it now.

“I’m going to get changed now,” Lori said with a blank face.

I could feel blood draining from my head and rushing south at the thought of her getting naked. I nodded and turned around, forcing myself to keep my eyes shut so I wouldn’t be tempted to peek.

Fuck professionalism; at this point I was struggling to be a God damn gentleman.

“I’d prefer if you left the room,” she said with a frustrated sigh.

I should leave. I could leave. It’s not like she was in danger here; I could stand outside the door and she’d be fine. 

“Sure,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder at her as I left her bedroom. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Lori rolled her eyes at me and I chuckled softly. I really fucking liked this girl. The Brothers were going to kill me.

I checked my phone while I waited and replied to a message from Walker, giving him our ETA. He immediately responded that he was already waiting about 5 klicks away at our planned rendezvous point.

After my blood had begun to circulate through my brain again, I figured maybe five minutes wasn't enough time for her to get changed and ready to leave. I watched the clock on my phone, letting nearly ten agonisingly slow minutes go by before I rapped on the door.

“You done in there?”

Lori opened the door. She was dressed with her jacket on and the pack slung over her shoulder like she was ready to leave.

I took it off her shoulder and going back into her room, laid it on the bed and started going through it.

“Checking for contraband? What are you? A cop?”

“No phones or electronics, Babycakes,” I said, smothering my laugh. I’d have to tell Marshall about that snarky comment, he’d get a kick out of it. 

“What?”

“They’re traceable,” I explained, pulling her phone out of her bag, turning it off and putting it on her nightstand.

“Fuck. Well, how do I speak to my friends?”

“You don't,” I said, flatly. “Sorry sugar, it's how we operate.”

“But I have a…” she paused and bit her lip, running her teeth over her lip a couple of times. “I have plans and I have to call my work. I can’t just not show up, that will cause problems.”

“Your brother will take care of contacting your work,” I told her. It was something he had already done, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. She was mad enough at him as it is.

Her brows furrowed, she opened her mouth to say something then slammed it shut.

“Okay,” she said a little sullenly. 

Her bottom lip went back between her teeth. She was thinking on something, but time pressed as we were, now was not the time to find out what it was. I filed it away as something to discover later.

I went back into her bag, checking she had packed for the weather. It got cold at night and we’d be riding for a long while so she would need some warmer clothes. I was glad I checked; she must be more rattled than she let on because she forgot half her shit. It wouldn’t be the first time I had to pack for a client, so I went to her closet and pulled out one of her thickest sweaters. 

“Will this fit under your leathers?” She nodded and I threw it to her. “Good. Put it on.” 

She grumbled a little under her breath, but shockingly she shucked off her jacket and put it on.

“Bras?” I asked, pointing to the draws she got her panties out of.

“What?”

“You didn’t pack bras,” I said, opening her drawer. I caught a glimpse of some pretty racy panties before she slammed it shut, nearly catching my fingers and using her hip to try to push me out of the way.

“I can do it,” she growled.

I grinned, held my arms up in surrender and backed away. Lori was not intimidated by me, but she was not completely unaffected. Her cheeks coloured a pretty pink hue as she selected a few simple bras and stuffed them into the bag. After seeing the panties she packed versus what she left behind, I was a little disappointed.

She went back to her draws and got out a set of light pyjamas, thin little cotton shorts and a tank top. I chuckled, she may as well sleep nude, they weren’t going to hide shit.

I checked that she had a toothbrush and other such items then zipped up the pack and slung it over my shoulder.

“We good to go?” I asked her.

She shrugged, “I guess.”

I smiled and put my arm out, “After you.”

I watched her leave a second. Her ass looked good in those black Kevlar jeans. Her thighs did too; shapely and thick, just the way I liked them. The way we all liked them, evidently.

After another agonising elevator ride, we got to my bike and she started to put her helmet on, but I stopped her.

“I wanna smoke first. Want one?” I asked. I reached into my jacket, pulled out a pack and slipped one between my teeth before offering her the packet. 

We’d only seen her smoke a couple of cigarettes while we had been tailing her, mostly late in the evening and while hiding from her brother. She hesitated only a moment before pulling one out. I flicked my Zippo open and lit her cigarette, watching a little too intently at the way her lips wrapped around it. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

I smiled at her before I lit my smoke. I started my Softail to let it warm up a bit and to give myself time to cool down before we got on the bike. The corners of my mouth kept threatening to break out in a grin at the thought of her arms wrapped around me and her body pressed against mine while we rode. I had to get that shit under control before we met with the Brothers.

I waited until she had finished smoking and took her butt and mine to the trash. When I turned back to her, she was pulling her smooth mahogany hair back into a low ponytail and the sweater she was wearing pulled tight across her chest. Her tits weren’t quite as small as I’d thought and when she put her jacket on, she had trouble zipping it up with the thick sweater underneath.

“Here, let me.”

I grabbed the hem of her sweater and tugged it down so it wasn’t wrinkled then brought the edges of her jacket close and joined the zipper tags. I caught a whiff of her perfume again and breathed in deeply, letting her fragrance permeate low into my lungs. I thought it was kiwi fruit or lime or something and it was driving me fucking crazy. 

Forcing myself to concentrate, I zipped her up. The jacket sat a little tight at her chest and I had to grab the edges and jerk them closer over her tits. She’s gonna think I’m a fucking creep. She ain’t wrong, it wasn’t like I wasn’t enjoying this but I still tried not to touch her more than necessary.

“Thanks, Syverson,” she said so softly I barely heard her over the bike. 

My eyes met hers and for a moment the world stopped. 

Fuck she was gorgeous with her big, clear greyish-blue eyes, pouty bee-stung lips, and right now her cheeks were adorably blushing. After watching her for a week and thinking about her all the time, it was almost unreal to have her so close. The way she was looking at me now was straight out of my fantasies and it took everything I had not to lift her mouth to mine and suck on that pretty bottom lip of hers.

“Call me Sy will ya, sugar?”

“Ok, um, Sy,” she said, a little shyly. She blushed harder, the reddening of her cheeks deepened and she sunk her teeth into that fucking plump lip. 

The smile I tried to hold back before broke through and I was done. Fuck my brothers are gonna beat my ass, but I was smitten. Walker will have his say too, but I’d bet him dollars to doughnuts, he’s gonna take one look at her and want her as bad as I fucking do. Hell, the rest of us are already half in love with her, he’s the only one who hasn’t seen her yet.

“My brothers will be meeting us a few klicks outside of town. They’ll be wearin’ their patches, so don’t be alarmed, alright?”

“How many?”

“Four more.”

“That’s your whole club? Why are you so small?”

“We’re very selective,” I said, simply. 

Lori nodded, accepting my half response. She knew an evasive answer when she heard one. It was nice talking to a girl who understood that there were some things you just didn’t talk about with civilians. 

“We’ll be goin’ all the way to Flagstaff tonight. It’ll take about four hours and we ain’t plannin’ on stoppin’. Think ya can make it?”

She nodded but looked a bit doubtful.

“Good girl,” I said and watched her bite her lip again. 

Fuck me. 

My hand moved to cup her jaw on its own, I couldn’t stop it. My thumb ran over her rounded lip until she let it slip from between her teeth. God damn, it felt so fucking soft and smooth, like a rose petal. I kept rubbing her reddened flesh then dragged my thumb down a little until her lip fell back into place, and I continued my path down her chin. I felt her warm, heavy breath on my hand, she was breathing as hard as I was.

Drawing on every bit of self-control I let her go. It wasn’t easy, and I clenched my fists, knowing I couldn’t delay leaving much longer. Not only because my brothers were waiting, but if we didn’t leave soon, we wouldn’t be able to blend in with the other clubs.

I grabbed her helmet. She put her arm out for it, but I took the gloves out from inside, tucked them under my arm and shook my head.

“Let me,” I said roughly, maybe a little too harshly, but I was on a knife’s edge. I pushed back any stray hairs off her forehead, taking my time, letting the backs of my fingers ghost over the soft skin of her cheeks.

“I know how to put a helmet on, Sy.”

There she goes saying my name again. The speed at which my cock was chubbing up was almost embarrassing.

“Humour me, Baby.” 

She nodded, slowly, her tongue darted out to wet her lips. I took another deep breath and slid the helmet over her head. I lifted her chin and slid the strap through the d-rings, watching her eyes trying to avoid mine. I chuffed, passing her gloves, and put my jacket on.

“Sidle up close to me. I run a little hot, might help keep ya warm, sugar.” 

I winked at her, knowing how stupid I looked when I did, and she laughed like I hoped she would. The sound went right through me, higher than her natural speaking tone, but somehow earthy and natural. It was infectious and sexy as fuck.

I got on the bike and gave it a few good revs. Jerking my head, I gestured that she should get on and she put her hands on my shoulders for support before stepping onto the footpeg and lifting her leg over the seat. I barely felt the suspension move as she sat, but you bet I felt her thighs pressing against mine and her hands timidly resting on my waist. That wouldn’t do, I grabbed her hands in mine, wrapping them around me and I felt her shimmy closer until her body was flush with mine. 

I hummed, that was more like it. 

For four more hours she was mine, then… well who knows. That would be up to her, but I damn well was going to do everything I could to keep her mine.

[viking-raider]

low key need you to write that story about Sy taking reader to get ribs.

Yeah! It would make a great addition to the Syverson Family Chronicles with Syverson Family War and now Lucky Bear. How Sy and "Sugar Butt" met, the wooing tactics of Austin Syverson fresh out of basic training or something.

Never know what the future holds!

[ignis-writes]

By Chance, By Choice

Summary: Summary: Will Syverson and y/n find love during hard times in an alliance made to keep the peace? (im bad at summaries)

Pairing:mob boss!Logan Syverson x female reader

Word count: around 1.7K

Warning: mob and stuff like that, mentions of fight bloodshed, arranged marriage. angst, fluff, and hardcore smut in future parts

A/N: This chapter is just an introduction to the universe from the reader's pov. English is not my first language and this fic is Not beta'd like everything else on this page. So look out for obvious mistakes

Image credits: Pinterest

Even if u don't like this, please comment, would be a great help to improve

*No permission is given of reposting, copying my work or ideas and parts from it and claiming it as your own* 

Arranged marriage AU -

Mob Boss AU

Chapter 1

The Engagement

An Arranged marriage? It sounded ridiculous and impractical.  But belonging to a mob family that had been around the blood business for so long, I've heard it often, especially around my eldest brother's marriage. Back then it felt like an alternate option if tinder doesn't work, but right now I'm close to no option. 

From a third-person perspective, It was like, everything was handed to me on a silver plate, and to a point it was true. Being the daughter of an influential man, and being raised in a wealthy family I did not have many struggles compared to an average person. But the problem with the silver plate is that it comes chained to your arms. This chain essentially limited my freedom to choose many things for myself, from where I studied to what I wore. And now who I married.

So when my father casually broke the news of this proposal at the dinner and asked for my opinion, I was not surprised. And by the looks exchanged between my brothers, Jude and Milan, It was clear that I shouldn't have a bad opinion for starters. This was not a proposal but a promise, a promise made on my life without my knowledge or consent. A promise put together by two mobsters for god knows what purpose. A business agreement? A peace treaty? I was yet to find. 

The Syversons were a familiar name in the underworld. The man I was supposed to marry was Logan Syverson, the old Don's younger son and only heir since the passing of his father and the murder of his elder brother Richard. Richard's death created a series of shootouts and gang wars which led to a fiasco that called for immediate negotiations and peace. Plus Syverson shared his high school and college days with my second brother, so they were pretty close even after all these years. This is all I knew about the man I was supposed to marry and his family. Still, I got ready to meet him and his family since my father had way too much hope in this alliance and he even went to the extent of thinking we would make an excellent couple. That was the clue, father wasn't just wagering a business deal, he wanted to "join the families " or whatever it meant. 

____________

The night before my engagement to him or my first time meeting my future husband, I couldn't sleep and had mixed feelings about him, about the marriage, and its aptitude for building anything more than a peace treaty between 2 groups of influential people. I wondered if I will like the stranger of a fiancee. A part of me feared it was probably gonna be another faux excuse for marriage, like Jude and Catherine. Even though they were lovely individuals with much kindness and love in their hearts they didn't work well as a team. On the other hand. I had my parents and their extraordinary bond to look up to. They loved cherished and respected each other and set a great example for their 4 kids to follow. Once I heard Uncle Benjin say they hit the jackpot when it came to an arranged marriage while toasting to the well-being of their relationship on its 25th anniversary, that was 10 years ago when I was 15. 

I kept tossing and turning in my bed for a few more hours so I went down to the kitchen to grab a drink, maybe if I had enough alcohol to doze off my system, I could fall asleep. Stupid thought actually, I was more likely to stay up if I drank. So I opened the fridge instead, to find ice cream. There was always some ice cream in this fridge. When I was around 5-6 used to sneak out with my brother to get some sweets past midnight, but pappa would catch us. He was never mad at us once he even joined our Lil ice cream adventure with his own share of choco chip cookies dipped in a warm glass of milk. It was our lil guilty pleasure.  But this time for a change I saw my mamma, she stood by the kitchen window looking out into the vineyard. 

"Mamma? " 

"Oh honey, you can't sleep either? " 

"yeahhh. I'm glad I have company, maybe a lil ice cream would help? 

"sit down you, I'll get the ice cream"

she turned to the fridge in a hurry before I managed to turn up the lights, and a tear? Was she crying? For what???

Knowing my mom, if I asked she would get annoyed further so I didn't ponder it any further. We sat together with the ice cream and talked about the past, not anything serious but all the silly stupid things I and my brothers did as kids, and giggled at some really awkward memories. We purposefully avoided talking about that time when pappa got shot and we had to move away for some time. After all, weren't trying to send away any hopes of sleeping tonight, and when silence fell again I asked. 

"ma, I don't know what it is but you know you can talk to me, right...…" 

"Oh it's nothing honey, it's just " her eyes were damp again.

"It's just I always felt like you never liked this lifestyle, the constant fear, instability and everything bad that came with the money and power… *sigh * I didn't get to choose who I married, but fortunately I married a good man. Together we made a family brick by brick. It was not easy, we took it slow and steady. Had to pretend at some part, had to turn a blind eye, forget and forgive but the efforts were mutual, we fell in love with each other.  

But for you, I hoped better, like you could choose your life, your husband, and ever since your pappa came up with this proposal I had this impending feeling that like you would have chosen to marry outside this society if it was your call.  Even cut all ties with this dangerous world and move out to somewhere peaceful, and…and normal. So yeah..." She wiped another drop of tear and continued "Im sorry we had to lock u right back into this world where mothers start every day with the fear of not seeing their children and husband ever again... it's terrible, really"

 

For a second I didn't know what to say, but I couldn't leave her in the silence either so I said, just for the sake of saying anything

"Oh mamma, you don't worry about that for a moment. I am your daughter, I will not just let somebody's arrangement decide the course of my life. And about getting out of this world, I was born here but never a part of it. Always a bystander to whatever went on in the name of the "family business" always a wallflower. I hated it of course, by trying my best not to see too much, not to let it bother me. my life was good so far ma, it will be good in the future cuz it was and will always be my decision to keep my happiness. So My marriage will be good, or I will make it good. " I said smiling 

No matter what I said, no matter how confident I sounded It was confusing, the hour was late and my mind was still wandering but after a few minutes with mamma, I felt like I could nod off for a while.

__________

The engagement went well, well…not uneventfully well. I wore a simple pink dress and waited in my room, Catherine was there to help me calm down my nerves. She said she knew him, not well enough but she said he wasn't a bad guy maybe it was true, maybe it was true. Maybe she just wanted me to calm down. When pappa led me to the hall he was silent except for the kind smile he offered me but his face was optimistic.

The hall was decorated in pink and white flowers and laces. The delicate sound of the piano kept humming a familiar tune. Not many people stood there, just his family, the closest of his friends, and mine. He was already there when I walked down the stairs, he must have seen me first because when I spotted him his eyes were already on me. Damm, he was handsome.

Some part of me wished I could meet him sooner. But another part of me was still a bit anxious. Finally, we got engaged, shook hands, and talked a bit....a lot. He was taller than I expected and well built. His eyes were many hues of blue with an isle of brown.

'Cute. My kids are gonna have those eyes' I caught myself thinking. wait, what???? I met this man 5 mins ago and I was already planning kids and their eye color. There is seriously something wrong with me.

As soon as the crowd around us took off to socialize with others, he asked me if he could get me a glass of champagne. Sure he might have noticed me not standing still and shifting weight from leg to leg. So we sat down by the balcony and he got me my glass. The fact that he served in the army as a captain back when Richard and his dad ran the business was new to me. He asked if I was okay, with this... This means the marriage and him. He was a good listener, he let me talk and paid attention. He seemed friendly and polite. Altogether a nice guy but still a stranger. Some part of me hoped this sweet demeanor was not just an act. 

My parents and his mom's brother, ( who first approached my dads with this proposal) were in a hurry to get us married so the wedding was fixed 2 weeks away from the engagement. Wow.  It was too fast, and I was quite stressed as it was. The ceremony would be a gathering for the so-called superiors of the mob world. I would be able to call my best friend Vivienne, that's it. No one else. But what intimidated me was the haste around getting this done, why this rush, were they preparing for something else? The silence and the haste surrounding the engagement and the wedding gave me an eerie sensation, one strong enough to wonder if I was walking into a trap.

Or Maybe I can walk into a fairytale.

I went to bed replaying the conversation we had. It felt comforting, but not enough. I wanted to see him again, talk to him, and dance with him. That night I fell asleep quicker than I expected with a silent smile upon my face and a hopeful warmth filling my soul.

'It's gonna be alright ' I told myself

[peyton-warren]

Blinded by The Fog Series

How the loss of the love of your life led you to the arms of the man of your dreams.

Summary: Reeling from the loss of your husband in a tragic accident in Bolivia, you throw yourself into caring for the other women left behind, avoiding your own care. Along the way you meet another Army Captain who helps you see you should be cared for too. You grow closer to the new man in your life only to find out a few months later that your husband is actually alive but in hiding.

Fandoms: Sand Castle & The Losers (Also Henry Cavill and Chris Evans Characters)

Characters: Jake Jensen x f!reader, Syverson x f!reader, Franklin Clay, William Roque, Cougar, Pooch, Jolene and OCs.

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI, grief, loss of spouse, loss of found family, insecurity, self doubt, guilt, pregnancy, infertility, miscarriage, cheating (if unintentional), male on male violence, military-style violence, sexy times, age gap (male early 30s, female early 20s) Each chapter will have specific warnings.

Chapters

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8, part 9

Part 10 Coming soon

Asks

Director's Cut- Behind the Scenes I - Syverson's perspective during Parts 4, 5 and 6. Playlist

Drabbles

(Mostly about Reader and Jake's lives, in chronological order, not posting order)

High School

Starry Night Drabble

Jensen realizing he’s in love

Reader realizes Jensen is her goober

Scarf Drabble

College/Military training years

Baking Drabble

Cookies Drabble

Established Relationship

Silence Drabble

Hot Chocolate Drabble

Who Stole My Homework?

Author's Note:

Original prompt from an online plot generator -

"You are the wife of a soldier who is missing in action and presumed dead. His best friend, who survived the war, offered you comfort and companionship, and over time love blossomed. A year later, you learn that your husband is alive and is coming home. Now you must confess to him that you have moved on—or have you?"

I mean who else was I going to put into that prompt??

Playlist Songs that remind me of this series and/or I've been listening to while writing it. Will update occasionally until the series is done.

Masterlist

Asks are always open. Click here for all posts related to this tale.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Current Request List!

July 26th 2022 - Completed September 10th 2022

Thank you to everyone that wrote in a request!! I have a few more things to tweak before posting my followers celebration, promise it's almost ready!

Adopted Pt. 2 - The reader is excited to go to the fair. when she finds out Noah Solomons will be there she gets even more excited. - posted July 29th

Growing pains - Reader is the youngest of the Shelby clan and is often excluded due to her softer nature. When she gets hurt at the pub one day it quickly becomes everyone's problem to fix it and make things right. - posted July 30th

Dad? - The last Shelby is born just before the war, when Tommy comes back caring for her is one of the only things he finds peace in.

The Smallest Blinder - The boys hate having to watch over her, but more often than not she's the one that saves the day - For some reason, I missed this one - I swear that the requests hide sometimes or disappear altogether. -

Mustache - Michael's wife finds her footing when she notices a large amount of banned Opium in her pantry. Sub Michael Gray X Dom reader NSFW (I changed this one due to a moment of inspiration) - posted Aug 23rd

Quiet Working Girl - the reader is hired on to work at the Garrison, and Tommy takes an interest in her. When things start to fall apart, she's the first person he suspects. He makes a right mess of things again, but this time he's not so sure if he can fix it. - posted aug. 23rd

Stop the World - Tangerine X Reader Smut - Bullet Train movie - I sent myself this request after seeing this movie because it was so good. After years of working against each other out in the field. This time you decide its best to team up - the aftermath leaves you weak in the knees - smut - posted August 23rd

Cold - Head cannons about a woman who never smiles and how the Shelby family would interact with her. - posted Aug 29th

Never safe for work - A reader with a high sex drive, and the things Tommy does to keep up - NSFW

Red - Redhead Reader finds out she's pregnant with Tommy's babe. This follows their wonders about what their child will be like.

Ambition - The reader always wanted a big life and so did Tommy. Promises were made and the reader comes to cash in.

Betrayal - Reader is Tommy's daughter. When she gets involved with a boy from a rival family, she knows that there is a lot on the line. Unforuently for her, things don't end well, causing Tommy to recall what it was like being in love with someone who stabs you in the back. - Posted September 10th 2022

✨Gosh these look so freaking good! Thank you again for everyone that sent in something ♥️

I also have a Captain Syverson imagine I never posted & idea for a Sherlock NSFW that I might post in there somewhere too.

[sapph--ire]

Signals Lost - I

Photo Edits/Graphics/Page Breaks by me. Gifs as credited.

Signals Lost: Sy x Reader

Synopsis: Set at the start of the Iraq war, and the years that follow. Y/N (Reader) and Captain Syverson meet on base as he trains for a new role in the military. Warnings: 18+ Angst/Romance/Smut: (Update as I go) Slowburn, misogyny, swearing, drinking, smoking. A/N: I've been sitting on this one for a while, um'ing and ahh'ing over whether I should publish. My first series so please be kind, like, reblog etc. Feedback is always appreciated! I am but a wee Sy fan with big ideas for his character.

Do not steal, do not re-post to external sites or claim as own.

Disclaimer: Not Beta’d, all mistakes are my own. Details of military life from personal experience not fact. I do not own any rights to Captain Syverson/Sandcastle. Feedback and commentary are appreciated, enjoy BBZ. Saff x 🥸✌️

MINORS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

Navigation

Signals Lost

Words: 6.5k Reading Time: 26 Minutes

I - September 9th, 2002:

The droning of your strained car engine blends with the booming pop beat coming through the old blown-out speakers. Indicating right onto the quiet motorway, you wind the window down to alleviate the late summer heat. Allowing your hair to whip around your face you can feel the cool lick as the wind finds the sweat at your hairline. Switching into 4th and pulling into the stream of traffic you turn your indicator back up and settle in for the next 20 odd miles of countryside. The sun sags heavily, looming over the wide horizon blanketing the expanse of flat fields. In the distance, a huddled group of hangers and buildings reveal your destination, a town rising in a wispy haze of heat blooms.

Living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere has its benefits, a sense of happy isolation from the world - but desperately boring at times. You think of your friends you left school with, happily married with children, the continual drip of dull, domestic life. But you are happy, at least this summer had been a happy one. Since graduating from Uni you’d made an effort to be more sociable, taking this job was one check off that list, meeting new faces getting to know the locals. It wasn’t a well-paid job, but a family friend put you up to it on the assurance the Americans tipped well. Which they did of course, but on the rare occasion they didn’t, they more than made up for it with a story or two.

Now 6 weeks in you felt comfortable, and conversation was something you’d always excelled at - you’d be lying if you didn’t admit the best part of the job was being able to mingle with some of the best looking men you’d ever laid eyes on, but that was just a perk. They were different to the men here at home, alien. You’d never encountered so many tall, broad men, fatigues filled with muscles - and that’s ignoring just how respectful they were. Yes Ma’am this, No Sir that.

Overtaking a tractor heavily laden with beet, a wobble from under your accelerator reminds you to book the wheel alignment on your piece of shit car, you sigh as you make a mental note to call the garage as soon as you get to the bar, more expense to worry about. The sun still setting on the skyline you reach the first sign for the base, your reminder to turn off. Making the turn into the left lane you see litter left behind from a recent anti-war protest, fluorescent signs plastered with the CND symbol, angry slogans zip-tied to the chain-link fence, and one very offensive cartoon of Bush and Blair in some sort of 69 position. If only you could stop and steal that one, it was bloody hilarious, thinking about how you might pick it up on your way back later to avoid explaining it to the entry guards on your way in. Pulling up to the gates you fish your ID from your bag, wind down the rest of your window, and make sure to slow enough to appease the 4 huge men gripping tactical firearms. Just to quell your anxiety you pull forward cautiously until the one at the front holds his hand out gesturing a stop.

“Good Evening Ma’am” He twangs with a short smile “Identification?”

“Sure, I’m headed to The Stoke, I’m a barmaid there,” You say trying not to look at the huge rifle clipped to his jacket. “uhh Civvy” you add.

“Ok, you know where you’re headed Miss?” he hands back your ID with what seems like a wink.

“Yes thanks” you nod awkwardly, ignoring the subtle twinkle from his eye.

“Lemme just get your slip” he notes pointing to the hut, “what time are you finished?”

“Midnight, but can you make it one please?” he looks at you expectantly “oh sorry…I mean I’m locking up tonight so it will probably take a bit longer, you can check in with my manager if you need to, um Brian West”

“No it’s fine Ma’am just make sure you're off the base by one, or I’ll be in the shit” he smirks. After a short moment in the hut he comes back with a parking slip on a piece of receipt paper:

The barrier lifts and you wave your thanks as you make your way over the speed bumps. A handful of flag poles line the road, the ropes clinking against the metal posts in the late-afternoon breeze. Little roads meander from the hub of the base twisting to meet behind the administration building towards your right. Here the streets are named after states, to your right Iowa leads across to the rear of the admin block, and straight on California to the airfield. Making sure to stick to the 10mph speed limit you drive past clusters of airmen huddled at junctions, some guarding entrances to unmarked doors, others checking the array of parked cars with mirrors on sticks. The base has been on high alert ever since what happened last year, but even more now the anniversary was approaching.

The bar is found at the recreation plaza a little further back from the building you just passed, but still nowhere near the bulk of the small town here. In the distance, you can see the heavily guarded interior gates that block the operational base from the residential side. The airfield and hangers slowly fade into the dusk, and you can make out a dozen or so figures lumbering seats and benches to a roped-off area on the tarmac. To the east of that, there’s a huge middle school for the kids here on base, a complex of married quarters and row upon row of small houses lining what looks like the streets of a model village; as if someone tried to replicate an American suburb with very little space. Not nearly enough to house the 1500 strong population of families here on PCS. Bathed in the yellow floodlights you note the group of men jogging down the path toward the entry gates, and park your car around the back of the bar. You place the parking slip on your dashboard, grab your bag and slide out of your car. It’s not really a ‘plaza’, just a group of buildings huddled around a small fountain lined with more flags and an outdoor seating area. Directly opposite a bustling pizza shop serves a growing line of Friday night customers. Next door is a now-closed donut shop, that one gets real busy in the morning, and past that the gym specifically for relatives on the base. Checking your watch you note the time 17:19 and walk through the open double doors into the bar.

A cloud of cigarette smoke lingers above the mass of bodies at the entrance, practically squeezing through the huddle of men, you see all the tables are filled. Mostly groups of men drinking together after work, but some are families and couples. In the far corner past the pool table, you see what appears to be an unofficial creche of misplaced children playing cheerfully, several running and sliding on their knees to the noisy music. Hugging through the crowd you raise your hand and smile at Mary behind the bar, letting her know you’ve arrived. She barely notices you as she’s taking cash off a woman with one hand and pouring red wine with the other. Setting your things on the hook behind the kitchen entrance, you sign in to the clipboard on the back of the door and check your reflection in the mirror. A crumpled paper sign saying Smile hangs aside it from a small strip of not-so sticky tape. Before you’ve even got time to tie your apron around your waist Mary comes wobbling back to greet you, “Y/N so glad you’re here, I would ask how you are but I’m rushed off my feet, do you mind starting a bit earlier?”

“I’ll be right there Mar” quickly finger-combing your wind whipped hair, you check your mascara and apply a quick coat of lip gloss. Whilst practicing your best smile you unashamedly adjust your top to expose more of your chest than normal, extra tips you think. You scoot around the barrels of oil and kegs of beer in the hallway, and squeeze past Brian who is making his way back to the Kitchen holding an empty tray from the hotplate, “Brian!” you give him a friendly smile, “Busy tonight!” you quip. He grumbles under his breath and in his typical quick wit shouts back “for my sins!”, limping off to refill the fries.

The back of the bar is small, only room for two to pass, but pretty much covers the length of the room, “you take that end Y/N” Mary shouts, you can barely hear her over the band that’s playing on the small stage at the right of you, smiling at the sea of hands waiting for service, you move closer to Mary, “I said you take that end” she repeats into your ear, a waft of cheap perfume and cigarette ash lingering around her head. “I need to get another crate of bottles, you man the fort”, you nod in understanding.

“Can I do that for you, what about your back?” almost yelling into her face, it’s so bloody loud. Yet another night the band ‘forgets’ to soundcheck.

“Don’t mind me dear just get these people away from my bar” she shouts and turns before lifting her hand “don’t forget to take a card if you’re doing tabs, for the love of god Y/N” Mary smiles at you and slaps you on the back as she teeters off to the storeroom on her heels. Mary wasn’t elderly, but she was small and hunched. Clearly once a very beautiful woman, she was prideful in her appearance - always neat. She never wore flat shoes regardless of her back pain, always wore dresses, and styled her perm with what smelled like a full can of Elnette. Given her pack a day habit, it was a total surprise she didn’t self-combust. A never-ending bundle of energy despite her aging years, she and Brian had managed the bar here for well over 30 years, even before the Yanks descended. Turning back to the baying crowd at the bar you take a deep breath and start on orders, a pitcher of draught beer and 2 glasses, whiskey chasers, red wine, more beer, 3 bottles of Pepsi for the kids. Being a barmaid wasn’t hard but it was difficult getting around the expectations of the customers. We didn’t have those fancy cherries or all the brands of liquor they wanted, we didn’t even have an ice machine - but we did our best with a smile, no matter how forced.

About an hour after arriving, the crowd starts to quieten as the early birds make their way home before the evening drinkers pile in. The families and children, some carried sleeping by their parents, leave the bar; satisfied and ready for bed before the weekend ahead. You take advantage of the change in pace and move to the far end of the counter to count the cash and deposit it in the till, punching in the numbers to ensure it all totals at the end of the night. Don’t want a repeat of last week. A major fuck up on your part had the till declaring to be hundreds over what you actually had counted out back. An awkward conversation later everything was fixed, but you just didn’t want to go through that again.

“I’m back dearie” Mary appears from the back door clutching napkins in her neatly manicured hand, “want to take a break? Get some air?” she says while fiddling with the napkins and making little piles of paper umbrellas for the pots. The band has stopped for a quick break, their instruments resting on the stage - only the backup CD playing now, a slow country ballad. Looking across the dance floor you note the dirty tables full of glasses and a few couples slow dancing in the disco lights.

“I thought you’d never ask! Do you mind if I make a call from the phone?” you say wiping the sweat from your top lip.

Uninterested she waves her hand “yes dear that’s fine” she’s now measuring out bowls of bar nuts.

“Thanks Mar, I’ll just grab these dirties from the floor first”. Moving around the room you bring them up to the bar, noting the stack of glasses and pitchers left on the pool table. Tutting to yourself, you have no idea why they won’t get someone else to help. It’s going to be even more manic later. Remembering to make your call to the garage you have a sly smoke break out the back door and make your way to the toilets. It’s not even 7 pm and you’ve been so busy you didn’t even have time to piss. Reaching for the paper you feel an empty roll, typical! - thankfully you have a napkin in your apron, you wash your hands, and get started on checking the customer loos for the same problem.

It’s not long before the bar is filled again with heated bodies bustling towards the counter, cash in hand eager for service. Thankfully Brian has closed up the kitchen and is diligently working the floor, grabbing empties from tables and replacing the back of the bar with boiling glasses from the dishwasher. A group of airmen on your right side propping up the bar, are keenly keeping you busy in bottles of beer and tequila chasers. The band is back now, but instead of the previous crowd-pleasing country music, they’ve switched to some rock and roll. Mostly oldies but a few you recognise and love. A pretty decent cover of ZZ Tops – Gimme All Your Lovin blasts over the noisy PA system. Dancing along to the music you swiftly take orders and cash in return for booze including the odd kiss on the cheek. You’re raking in the tips tonight. In your head, you’re not just the barmaid, you feel as if you were Violet from Coyote Ugly, free pouring whiskey into the mouths of rabid men, spraying them with water when things get too wild. Taking a swig from your bottle of beer you lean across the bar to greet another nameless regular with a friendly face.

“Two beers babe” he shakes a 10 in your face, teasingly pulling away when you go to take it. Following his lead, you put the 10 in your cleavage, cheekily pocketing the change and hand him the bottles.

“Service with a smile” you grin. Have a nice day arsehole.

In the corner of your eye, you see Mary dancing with a young serviceman who’s found his way behind the bar, doing her best Tina Turner impression strutting in her wobbly heels. Brian simply raises his eyebrows to subtly acknowledge what is clearly a regular occurrence and carries on stacking cups. Whilst Tina’s getting her rocks off you try your best to move up and down the bar, pouring pitchers and pulling beer caps at the same time. It’s getting late, past 10 at least, and your back heaves, impatient with the mob.

The thumping bass line from the speakers hits your chest relentlessly as you hurry from punter to punter your shoes sticking to the mess of soda and spirits spattered on the linoleum. Taking short breaks you pull your cold bottle of beer to your cheeks to ease the burn of the humid room on your skin. Before you realise it the optics on the wall need changing and you shout to Brian to grab more whiskey and another bucket of ice.

Predictably the serviceman who was dancing with Mary is now behind you playfully rocking his hips to the music against your back as you pass drinks across the counter. Refusing to rise to it, you try to push him away with an awkward laugh at the men in front of you. He drunkenly stumbles back against the wall of optics and comes back closer forcing you up against the bar, humping you insistently in time to the music, laughing as if it’s all some kind of big joke. Drinks spill over you as he pushes you further into the countertop. You look at the faces in front of you, some of them women cheering him on in howls, the others laughing at the display in front of them. A flush rises to your cheeks, embarrassed by the attention. You’re used to being teased by these types of guys, but right now you feel entirely humiliated, fucking pig. Pushing again you move your right elbow back as hard as it can to meet the side of his ribs.

“Get the fuck off me” you yell. “Arsehole!”. A chorus of boos erupt from the baying audience.

“You’re no fuckin’ fun” he spits in your face, before swiftly jumping back over the bar into the commiserating thumps of his friends, pulling off a strip of stars and stripes bunting with his boot as he goes. As hard as you try to shake it off a wave of guilt enters your mind, you worry you were too harsh, and take a deep breath. Moving the hair from your face you use a bar mat to mop up the spillage as best you can, chuck it in the corner of the floor, and turn to serve the airmen waiting on the right-hand side of the bar; holding back a burn of tears you summon your best fake smile.

“You ok?” The taller of them leans in and hollers to your ear, you step back and meet his heavy-lidded eyes, he’s probably just doing the gentlemanly thing. “Fucking trench monkey” he jibes whilst the 4 others beside him roar in agreement. “4 more shots!” he waves a note.

“I’ll be fine, typical Friday night” shrugging it off, you take his money and lay out the glasses pouring warm tequila to the brim. On decanting a 5th for yourself you snicker at the handsome face eagerly watching you, “emotional compensation” you add with a wink.

“Hell yeah baby!” he howls following your lead and in passing back the drinks to his buddies they chant and down them in unison.

“Free Bird! Free Bird!” an anonymous voice booms from the crowd toward the exhausted band. A smattering of claps and cheers punctuates the request as agreement. The band reluctantly continues for one last song as the ring of the bell signals it’s time to move on.

“Jesus!” you slump your tired arms against the counter, your hazy head falling on your hands.

“Another packed night” Mary pats you on the back in appreciation. Moving up and down the bar, cigarette in hand - unphased by the wild events before. “Good for business” she chirps, spraying the wood and polishing each section fervently.

“Yeah, about that Mar, any chance you can find someone else to help out?” you straighten and look toward her optimistically, the last of the rabble slowly rolling out of the open doors and crisp evening.

“It depends, you’re not planning on leaving us?” pointing at the grate above the hatch she pulls herself onto a small step stool to reach the top.

“No!” you laugh, “despite the over-friendly customers, I really enjoy it here…”

“1, 2, 3” and you both pull down on the metal together, closing the bar for the night. You fiddle with the lock on the grate and put the key in her small hand.

“I mean, the 3 pm shift not so much” you joke, “it gets kind of slow, you know?”

“Well,” she starts “I’ll speak to Brian, he’s the man with the money.” A smile forms at her mouth and she winks. “Speaking of, do you want to be paid now or Sunday?” from nowhere she has a mop in her hands and with her back turned she gets stuck into relieving the sticky mess from the floor. The lights buzz on from the left to right, and all that’s left is the loud ring of tinnitus and Brian shaking the hands of the weary band on the far side of the floor.

Sunday is planned to be a quiet day, the base has a full day of anniversary events lined up, the bar will probably host a few small groups – mainly the regular crowd before they head back to their homes. “Sunday is more than fine” you reply.

Shutting the back door ensuring it clicks, you turn the key in the lock and replace the key chain to your ID lanyard. All that’s left of the night is the navy blue of the star-dotted sky and a misty amber glow from the many floodlights dotted across the estate. Rummaging in your bag you quickly check the time - 12:25 am.

“Night Y/N” Mary waves out the passenger side of her car as Brian drives them back toward the entry gates along the vast airfield.

Still time for a quick smoke, you think, before you get back in your car and head home. Lifting the filter to your lips you pull a lighter from your pocket and drag the thick burning vapour to your lungs, a wash of peace falls over you and you flex your heavy shoulders. The base is practically silent, save for the whir of generators and vehicles on the breeze. It isn’t until you walk a little way to your car you suddenly hear a cacophony of raised voices - angry voices. Around the corner of the bar, a small gathering of people litter the plaza, refusing to give in to the call of their beds. Directly in front of the now locked doors, you see the airmen you served earlier, arguing with a couple of guys sitting on the wall. One of them seems to be spitting sick into a bush, hunched hands on knees into the raised flower bed. Lovely. Not wanting to be seen you slide back against the cool brick and continue to meditate on the evening gone. The burning embers of your cigarette light your face as you take a deep breath and sigh heavily.

Being on base always feels a little like trespassing into a place you’re not supposed to be, the last thing you want is to be caught in all this. The echo of retching and vomit hitting the pavement turns you around. You know you should really get going but he was kind to you earlier, checking in on you – and you really couldn’t forgive yourself if you didn’t try to help, fuck. Whilst crossing the cobbles you dig in your bag for tissues, maybe you could even grab him a water from the kitchen, it’s the least you could do. You flick the half spent cig to the side and squat down to face the Airman.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for checking in on me ba…” you are quickly interrupted by a scoff on the other side of the pathway.

“That’s the fucking bitch”. In the low glow of the parking lot lights, you realise it’s your insistent dance partner from before. His mouth curled up in disgust. “Don’t flatter yourself” he jeers clearly hurt. Fucking fuck! “What’s your name?” You offer the tissues to the man at your side.

“It’s Y/N,” you say timidly. “Look, I didn’t mean any offe..”

“Well you’re a Cunt Y/N!” he spits on the floor at your foot punctuating the disgusting word from his mouth as you step back trying your best to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

“Hey that’s out of line buddy” a bystander points back.

“Go home, Bryant,” another says shaking his head.

Before you can process what the hell is happening or even bother to try and argue back, the nauseous airman is wobbling ahead of you. Squaring up to your aggressor, unstable fists raised for a fight, he lunges forward pushing him back into the bush. A symphony of groans and shouts erupt as his colleagues run to pull him back. The men grapple with each other for an uncomfortably long time, their arms pulled back in anger over and over again, battering whatever they could find. A sickening thud and snap echoes across the plaza, and the airman falls back on his bum clutching his nose.

I can’t believe this, FUCK. “Shit man, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you groan as you push the wad of tissues under the airman’s nose, his warm blood emptying all over your hands.

Without warning a truck surges into the parking lot, brakes shrieking as you cover your eyes from the blinding white beams of the headlights. The stragglers hanging about the plaza quickly scatter and tramp back to their respective quarters, a sign that you should too. You get back on your feet, backing up between the entrance to the bar and the men in front.

If you had a chance to dash it, it’s definitely gone now. Two figures emerge from the cab, slamming their doors in time, resonating a loud bang off the circle of buildings. They’re looking in your direction, or at least at the group of exhausted men in front of you. The bigger of them is wearing smartly pressed fatigues with a green beret, he towers head and shoulders above the rest. His thick arms swing at his side as he advances. Considering you’ve been working on base for 6 weeks, you still have zero idea what any of the uniforms or patches mean - but just from the swagger of this hulking guy…you know someone’s in deep shit, and a deep ache in your stomach says you should leave before you find out who.

He lumbers up the curbside and you audibly gasp as you notice he has a handgun strapped tight across his thigh. What really takes your attention, however, is the flash of steel clipped to his belt. A tactical knife longer than your forearm sheathed in a crested leather scabbard. Apart from the guards patrolling on site, you’ve never seen any other weapons up close. The proximity alone raises your heartbeat, a mixture of fear and curiosity rushes over you as you wonder why this soldier, in particular, carries a handgun so close to their body.

Without a word the men jump to attention, swaying drunkenly from side to side. The smaller of the two approaches locking on to the airman, blood oozing from his nostrils.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is this!” He booms “Peterson, do I have to hose you down like a rabid dog”

“No Staff Sergeant” he burps, the pungent smell of vomit and alcohol wafting from the vapours of his mouth.

You feel your cheeks flush at his mere volume, trying not to jump with each staccato boom of his interrogation. Don’t panic, don’t panic you relay to yourself. Just explain what happened, you’re not in trouble. You haven’t done anything wrong. Squinting your eyes to adjust to the headlights you search for some sort of way out of this mortifying scenario.

“Are you inebriated Shitbird?” he yells a mist of spit dusting onto Peterson's face.

“Ineb…inebriat? Staff Sargeant” he stammers flicking his head to prevent the blood from his nose trickling down his top lip.

Now looming down onto Airman Peterson's head, eyes freakishly large behind his wide brimmed hat, he repeats “Are you so fucking wasted you don’t know what that means, shit head?”

“Sir, yes I am drunk Sir” Peterson announces to the smirks of his friends.

“Get the fuck out of my sight and back to bricks before I send you to the stockade” he yells “all of you!”. The crack in his voice at the end of ‘you’ is somehow so childishly hilarious at that moment that you let out involuntarily snort in a self-conscious chuckle. The silent taller man snaps his head in your direction, although just a silhouette you can feel the burn of his eyes as he scrutinises you. You bring your hand to your mouth wishing you could sink into the floor and disappear never to be seen again.

“Yes Sir” the four airmen bark in agreement and swiftly exit past the pizza shop in the direction of the inner gate. As they leave a series of awkward laughs disappear into the darkness with them. Now it’s just you, the officers, and your assaulter.

Feeling a chill you realise the novelty of the situation has long gone, what the eff do I say, think THINK!

The Staff Sergeant continues, “Can someone explain to me what in God’s name is going on here?”

In the heavy silence you take your chance to speak up, nervous waves sound as you try to excuse yourself. “Look, I am so sorry” Shit do I say, Sir? Sirs? You contemplate it for a second. “The Airman…um Peterson…was unwell, and I was just trying to make sure he got home alright” shut up, shut up, shut up ”S…Sir?”. Pulling your hands to your arms in comfort, you feel your goose-pricked skin tighten from the chill of the Sergeant’s inspecting glare. Is it fear or nerves? You know this is it, you’re going to get shouted at by at least one of the most terrifying men you’ve ever met. Remembering that time you got called to the Headmasters office for swearing at Ms. Dixon – and subsequent suspension, a worse thought crosses your mind. What if I lose my job! Oh god. If only I’d just gone home when I could.

The larger of the commanders pushes forward, “Not you” he drawls in disdain. Without even looking at you he points his finger, commanding you to shut up and stay put. You don’t know if it’s the gun on his thigh or some sort of mind trick, but you freeze in submission, chest tight, too scared to even breathe. He eclipses the light from the truck with his body as he advances on your aggressor. In the halo of white now lighting his face you can make out his features, a thick 5’o’clock shadow stubbled around a striking moustache, dark curls lay on his forehead. Something else catches your attention, something you can’t quite place at first. The early morning wind picks up, creating a vortex around the small plaza, gathering up leaves and litter as it rises. It’s the smell of his deodorant or cologne, a rich musk mixed with a lilt of whiskey. The fragrance lingers around you, distinctly masculine, a sudden twinge in your belly follows budding wetness in your knickers. Really? You chide your growing schoolgirl crush, a bloom of heat visibly rising to your face as you realise you’re turned on by his icy disregard.

“This is the second call I’ve gotten about you this evening Bryant”, he rumbles at the serviceman now shadowed by his superiors broad frame, “first for assaultin’ a barmaid and now for fightin’ in the God damn street?!” he doesn’t need to raise his voice, a disappointed grumble punctuates his words so perfectly you shift from side to side, feeling scolded in turn. He scrunches his face, bringing his hand to the bridge of his nose.

“Apologize to Staff Sergeant Holmes, Cadet” he orders, his deep voice gravely and fatigued. Something in his tone tells you this is not the first time Bryant has fucked up in his charge.

Bryant turns, ego bruised but still at full attention to the man beside him. “I am very sorry Staff Sergeant, Sir.”

“I am disappointed in your behaviour on my base Son. Hardly becoming of an Officer in training. Given the circumstances, I will let Captain Syverson decide how best to penalize you” Holmes starts, a smirk on his smug face. “But!” He cuts, chin to chin with the Cadet “If I see you as much as piss in my direction I will gladly PT you until you’re shitting blood for a week. Do you understand Son?”

“Yes, Sir!” Bryant jolts. Satisfied, the Staff Sergeant shares a confirmatory nod with the Captain and silently turns back toward the truck. A series of revs signal his departure, and the truck fades from view.

“You fuckin’ idiot Bryant” The captain throws his hands to his hips. You can’t help but notice how large they are, the pads of his thick fingers drum into the woven band of his belt as he contemplates what action to take. “Are you purposefully tryin’ to make us look bad?” He grimaces as Bryant bursts into raucous laughter. Am I bloody invisible?

“Come on Sy, that was fucking funny, you should have seen that guy's nose”. “Shut the fuck up Bryant. Apologize to…” he finally turns, taking you in with a pained inhale. “What’s your name darlin’?”

You step back at his sudden change, Darlin’? Who the fuck does this guy think he is? I am NOT your Darlin’ Grunt. The words you wished you could say, that is if you weren’t so scared of him. “It’s Y/N” you barely manage to get your words out. Searching the Captain's face you try to determine just how much trouble you are in. “Look I need to leave, my permit runs out in…”, you check your watch, “Fuck, I have to get off the base”.

“I’ll make sure you get back to the gate, OK?” he raises his finger again, a sign to stay while he deals with Bryant. He turns a frosty gaze toward the Cadet. His chest rises as he takes his beret in hand wringing it between enormous palms.

“Apologise to Y/N Cadet” he starts, louder than before. Bryant quickly reassumes his attention, clearly, the Captain is not playing buddy tonight.

Turning towards you he spits out his best non-apology, “Y/N I am so sorry you’re a CUNT” his words are full of spite, his eyebrows dance up and down in insult as he mocks you.

“Bryant!” The Captain smacks the cadet upside his shaved head, the slap reverberating in the still of the dark.

“Fuck! I am very SORRY” he virtually shouts, “I am sorry for bothering you” His eyes meet the floor, cracked like a scolded child”

“Right, now stop pettin’ the fuckin’ wildlife, are we clear Cadet?” The Captain orders back, his eyes boring a hole into Bryant’s drooping head. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, Just what exactly is that meant to mean?

“You’re lucky I don’t call the MP’s out this late.” He grumbles turning back to glance at you. You can’t control the shudder from your core as the cold of the night blankets your bare arms, or was it nerves still? “We are guests on this base and in this country” The Captain continues, “I’m takin’ your off base privileges for a month, you can spend your nights on CQ duty” He smirks content with his judgment as Bryant shakes his head to the floor, a whispered curse under his tongue. “FINE” he snarls, “0600 for write up, you can face the Wing Commander”.

“Yes Sir!” Bryant complies through gritted teeth.

“Right, now fuck off” he breaks his gaze from the dejected Cadet and steps forward to you. Placing his beret back on his head, he combs back the dark curls rebelling from the thick gel covering the rest. He presses his fatigues down with a flat hand searching for something in the velcro pockets.. “You said something about a permit?” he smiles, producing a pen from his chest pocket. You can feel the warmth of his breath as he closes in on you. The sheer proximity of his frame making your knees weak.

“Sure, it’s in my car.” You squeeze past the Captain, “it’s just here” you point to the dark at the back of the plaza and make your escape. “Look am I in trouble…becau…” you turn expecting him to be where you were just stood. “Fuck!” you jump, “you’re really quiet?!”. He simply chuckles, cocking his head at you. Laughing awkwardly you hope he doesn’t sense just how nervous he’s making you. Unlocking the passenger door with the key, you lean in to reach past the steering wheel. “I mean I’m just a barmaid…it’s not a big deal, we get arseholes like that most weekends” you ramble searching for the slip of paper in the dark.

“Vulgar Display of Power?” you hear him mutter behind you.

“Sorry?” you look from his pointed hand to the box of tapes spilling onto the footwell.

“You like metal?” he probes.

“Oh yeah I suppose. I like a lot of music, depends on how I feel that day”, You hear a soft ‘tsk’ behind you and glance back. He’s taking in the view of you, one knee on the passenger seat, bent at the waist, struggling forward.

“I mean there’s also a lot of shit I listen to in there, boy bands, Pop-y stuff” you remark, finally finding the paper that had slipped under the glass of the windscreen. “Shania Twain…”.

Pulling yourself back and tugging your jeans up – you cover what you assume was distracting him, the back of your thong. “Here” you stretch your hand to his and pass the piece of paper, he scribbles something on the back, turning to the light of the streetlamp to see better.

“All set Darlin’” he arrogantly pushes the paper back into your hand, the heat from his fingers brushing against your frozen knuckles.

“Thanks, for this”, you raise the paper between you and force a smile tucking the slip into your jeans pocket. “And for, you know, not kicking me off base”.

“Still time for that Doll’” he teases looking at his watch, “you have 9 minutes” stepping back and disappearing around the corner of the bar. His deep voice carries in the dark “Now get! Before I change my mind” he echoes from the shadow.

Navigation

[keanureevesisbae]

Summary: Rosemary Hill is twenty seven and lives in San Antonio, Texas. Not exactly by choice, but that's a story for a different time. When Captain Syverson comes back home, she finally gets to meet the legendary captain people have been boasting about. But one thing is certain: never is she falling for a military man. Not again.

Captain Syverson x Rosemary Hill (Asian OFC)

Wordcount: 16k

Warnings: Mention of death, some war flashbacks (nothing to graphic)

A/N: Believe it or not, this is what I call a story on the "shorter" side, lol. Also, I hit 700 followers and the number is growing, so for that: thank you so so much! I hope you enjoy this story, it's a little bit different from what I usually do when it comes to writing. Hopefully it won't disappoint. Please let me know what you think! I love your reactions 🥰

It had been three days since Sy got back home from his fourth tour and those days all went by in a blur. His parents picking him up from the airport flowed into eating his momma’s delicious food after those terrible rations and there is a possibility he might’ve slept for at least twenty hours straight.

His friends understood his need to acclimatize to San Antonio, Texas before hanging out. Every day they don’t see him though, just means they’ll go even more out out when they first see each other again.

‘Oh, darlin’,’ his momma says as they walk into the Oak, one of the most famous diners here. ‘I’m so happy that you’re here again. I always love it to show you off.’

‘I missed you too, momma.’ Sy wraps his arm around her shoulders and realizes he might’ve missed her more than he initially let in on. Back at the base he was all talk, saying how everyone shouldn’t be such babies and cry about how much they missed their families. The second however he saw his own momma when he got back on American soil, he nearly turned into a crying mess.

Emphasis on nearly.

The three of them sit in a booth, waiting for someone to take their orders. Nothing much changed around here, he thinks to himself. The loud noises, the smells and just the overall ambiance.

It’s like he never left.

One of the older waitresses says to them they’ll be helped in a minute and the blonde truly meant a minute, because not long after she left, someone else appears at their table.

Sy has zero recollection of her. Did she always work her?

‘Mister and mrs. Syverson,’ the beautiful waitress says with a smile, ‘what a surprise.’

He can’t detect an accent, meaning she probably isn’t from around here.

Momma holds the waitress’ hand into hers and says: ‘Darlin’, meet my son Luke. Luke, this is my favorite waitress here at the Oak, Rosemary.’

He holds out his hand and she places hers in it. Her hand nearly disappears in his and he is careful not to squeeze too tight, since she has quite a few rings on her fingers. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he says, ‘I’m Luke, but everyone calls me Sy, except my mom.’

Rosemary smiles as she shakes his hand. ‘I’m Rosemary, but everyone calls me Rose, except your mom.’ It’s obvious she is taking him in and she adds: ‘It’s nice to finally meet the infamous Captain Syverson. Heard a lot about you.’

That shouldn’t make a grown ass man blush, but it sure does anyway. Rosemary—Rose—is different than the gals around here. Not that the ladies who he grew up with are necessarily bad, but there is something quite different about this woman. Captivating eyes, deep dark brown hair and a lovely smile that makes his hearts to all sorts of somersaults.

Does this mean he has been on tour for way too long and he has missed female attention or that Rosemary is just the girl he always fantasized about when trying to sleep in the desert, making up scenarios that kept him going.

Dammit, how long does he know her? Thirty seconds, tops? He shouldn’t be hearing wedding bells already.

Rose pulls out the little notebook from her apron and asks: ‘How can I help the Syverson family today?’

She looks at his mom first, who wants some pancakes. Sy decides to order the same, because he is too flabbergasted to actually think about everything he saw on the menu he considered ordering. Rose averts her eyes from him to his dad and smiles at his old man. ‘The usual, sweetheart,’ he says with a friendly smile. His dad must really be keen on Rose, because he barely smiles at anyone like that.

‘And lemme guess,’ Rose says, ‘a cappuccino for the mrs., an espresso for mister Syverson and for the captain…’ Her eyes linger on him, as she bites her bottom lip, a hint of a playful smile still visible as she thinks about what kind of drink he fancies. ‘Either a beer or some water.’

Sy can’t stop his chuckle. ‘Beer is for after four in the afternoon,’ he says.

Rose simply shrugs. ‘Well, it’s four in the afternoon somewhere in the world.’

He can’t help but laugh a bit louder. She’s witty as well, he likes it. ‘Some water will do. thank you.’

‘Okido, coming right up.’

Sy watches her walk away, patting one of the older men around here on his shoulder, flashing him a beautiful smile of hers, before joking around a bit more.

‘She’s not from around here,’ Sy notes.

His momma nods. ‘She apparently moved here a few years ago,’ she says, ‘lives around forty minutes away from the Oak.’

‘She moved here for her fella,’ dad interrupts his momma. ‘Was also military.’ His father was a man of very little words—less than ten this time—but he always said enough.

He was speaking past tense, causing Sy to fear the most tragic outcome for a military relationship.

‘He died a year and a half ago,’ momma continues. ‘Poor girl, I cannot imagine what she went through. What was his name again?’

‘Brandon Mitchell,’ his dad answers.

Doesn’t ring a bell. Sy leans back in his chair. ‘Killed in action?’ he asks.

Momma nods. ‘Yes, he was in a different part of Iraq. I mean, I don’t know the details, but she had trouble moving away from here, because they got married, had a house here. She showed me a picture once: such a happy and beautiful couple.’

‘Must’ve been hard,’ Sy notes. He nervously moves his leg up and down, thinking about all those letters he had to write because young fellas were killed in action. He feared that one day his folks would get one. He knew the devastation. He’d seen it. He’d felt it.

Rose might be a magician, because she walks back with plates and a tray with drinks balancing on her arms. His dad grabs two plates from her left arm and places them in front of the right person. ‘This is why I love you, mister Syverson,’ Rose says, placing everything else on the table.

Momma holds Rose’s hand. ‘Darlin’, remind me again: where you originally from?’

‘Chicago, Illinois,’ she answers. ‘Why?’

‘Just wondering. My memory is not what it used to be.’

Rose smiles. ‘That’s okay. If you need anything else, then please don’t hesitate to let me know.’ She looks at Sy and he can see it: there is a lot of pain behind her eyes. She fabricates a smile on her face to mask it though. ‘Thank you for your service, captain.’

❃ ❃ ❃

Later that night, his friends have run out of patience, which is understandable. They’ve missed him, it became clear in their letters. When Sy arrives back home with his parents, all three of them are sitting on the porch. Hunter is the first one to jump up and with an illegal speed bumps into Sy. ‘Fuck me, did you just got a whole lot stronger?’ Hunter asks, mid hug.

Max and Zeke are quick to follow and Sy doesn’t want to admit it but: he missed his friends. He loves his comrades back in Iraq (though he’ll never admit it), but there is something different about these guys. They go way back: all the way back to kindergarten. It may be hard to believe now, but Sy used to be the smallest of the group, despite being the oldest. He was always the victim of their practical jokes. Thank heaves for puberty, because Sy outgrew all three of them in high school and was no longer the little one.

He was a captain in the making.

They didn’t join the military, all because they had academic careers to pursue. Zeke went to Harvard, Max went to Yale and Hunter to UCLA, leaving Sy back here in Texas.

Sy says goodbye to his parents, before walking off with his friends. It’s not ideal to still live with his parents, being able to afford a place for himself and all, but with the upcoming tours, he decided to wait with buying a house.

Maybe wait until he found someone. His significant other.

‘So, how was it with your folks?’ Zeke asks, as they are wandering over the empty road.

‘Was good. We went to the Oak,’ Sy says, actively trying not to think about the beautiful waitress again.

‘Oh, so you met Rosemary?’ Hunter chuckles.

How did he—

The guys all start to laugh at his astonishment he isn’t hiding well, like he usually does.

‘Your momma invited us over a few times while she was at the Oak,’ Max explains, ‘and you could say that she is absolutely smitten with Rosemary. I mean, all of our momma’s are actually. She apparently lived on the west part of town, still does, hence the reason we haven’t seen her around. I mean, I sure would’ve noticed here.’

‘She started working at the Oak a year ago,’ Zeke says. ‘She’s been quite the talk of the town ever since.’

Of course she is… Sy pushes his hands in his pockets, not quite knowing what to say, except getting inside his head. It must’ve been hard being a widow. Six months she spend grieving by herself, before she decided to start working at the Oak.

‘You know, I actually knew Brandon,’ Hunter says. ‘Okay, not like know know him, but I saw him around a few times at my uncle’s hardware shop, always boasting about his wife, how they were restoring his grandparents’ place. Great guy, shame what happened to him.’

Thankfully the guys decide to stop talking about Rosemary. That the woman keeps circling in his mind since the second he saw her is already bad enough. No need to add some fuel to the fire.

The four of them go to a bar downtown and all order a beer. It is after all four in the afternoon here and somewhere else. Sy chats a bit about what happened back at the base, but prefers not to talk about it too much, which his friends know and respect.

They always do.

The unbearable heat, the pain, the loud noises. It all flashes back in front of his eyes every now and then.

Thankfully Hunter is right there to distract him from the flashbacks, embarrassing himself singing at the karaoke. When Hunter sings a duet with an older lady, Sy notices his eyelids grow heaver. Not wanting to end the fun just yet, he decides to take a bit of a breather outside and tells his other two friends he’ll be right back.

With his second beer in his hand, he walks outside. Nights like this are his favorite. The bright stars, a huge contrast to the dark sky. Nothing beats the sky back here in Texas.

Sy lets out a content sigh and can’t help but smile.

He is home again.

Never in a million years did I expect to live in San Antonio, Texas. I was born and raised in Chicago and I always thought that place was my forever home. Until I lost my job and me and my friends decided to ignore our responsibilities and go road tripping. I could’ve known I would fall in love sooner or later, because that is such a Rosemary Hill thing to do.

I met Brandon in the first bar in Texas. Like almost all the bars here, you could ride a mechanical bull and if you could sit on it for a good thirty seconds, you’d win some sort of prize. I was tipsy enough to think I actually got a shot at winning that prize and miraculously enough, I didn’t fall off right away.

I managed to stay on it for a good ten seconds, before I was catapulted off onto the mat. I remember laughing, mainly to camouflage the slight humiliation I felt.

And then someone pulled me up.

He both looked handsome and adorable at the same time with his cowboy hat. I never pecked myself for someone who would fall in love for a guy who wore that type of hat, combined with a lumberjack blouse tucked into his jeans and some working boots. All my life had I been surrounded by men in suits of designer clothes.

However, I never felt this giddy feeling in my stomach about any of those men.

The guy smiled at me and asked whether or not I was okay.

I simply nodded, absolutely mesmerized by his beautiful light brown eyes. How could anyone be this gorgeous?

‘I’m Brandon, by the way,’ he said.

‘Rosemary, but you can call me Rose.’

That entire night we chatted away, drank a few drinks and eventually he brought me back to the hotel my friends and I were staying at.

The original plan was that my friends and I would leave Texas in a few days, but I couldn’t leave this place anymore. I couldn’t leave Brandon. I fell in love so quickly, it were tons of feelings mixed together that I had never felt before.

He showed me his grandparents’ place he was rebuilding for them. It was endearing to see how much he loved his grandparents, who raised him when his parents died when he was younger.

So I stayed. Though I knew nothing about rebuilding, I helped him out since I had nowhere to go and I just had to be with him. I knew he was in the military and I knew how rough that could be, but you know what they say: love makes blind.

With Brandon still here, he showed me everything. He showed me the beautiful places in San Antonio and despite the place being absolutely gorgeous, he said it could never be as breathtakingly stunning as me.

Right before his tour, he proposed to me, though we only were dating for three months. He promised me that when he got back, he’d marry me. So we did. He came back in one piece and got married at the tender age of twenty four. It was a small ceremony, just the two of us, our friends, his grandparents and my parents and two brothers.

After saying our “I do’s”, it took around three months before he had to leave again. It was the hardest goodbye I ever experienced in my life, but he told me that he would get home and that this would be his last tour. That we would start our own family together when he got back. Be the Mitchell Family.

It was indeed his last tour, just not the way I expected it to be.

Instead of the two of us being reunited, I had to bury him.

My entire life turned upside down. I became a widow at the age of twenty five and two weeks after I buried him, I was spending my twenty six birthday burying both of his grandparents, who died because of their broken hearts.

My friends and family told me to move back to Chicago, but I couldn’t. Everything that reminded me of my late husband was here. The apartment we lived in, the places we visited and his grave. I couldn’t leave that behind, go back to Chicago and start over like nothing had happened (despite everyone there insisting it would be in my best interest).

So, I stayed in San Antonio. I grieved here, I mourned here and spend my time in a town nearby, talking to other widows and widowers. They helped me to be able to not dwell in the hurt and sorrow, but to live my life like Brandon would want me to.

So after six months of intensively visiting support groups, talking to people about it, I got a job. Of course it was hard without Brandon, but this place feels like home.

More than Chicago ever did.

After a draining shift, I walk out of the diner towards my car. I cannot wait to actually be at home. I want a glass of wine and after the day I had, I wholeheartedly deserve that. But when I got in my car that is parked at the lot and I try to start it, the light blue beauty decides to just not start.

Really?

I lean back in the seat, already reaching in my bag for my phone to call someone. I get out of the car, trying to figure out how to pop the hood of this thing, but truth be told: I have no idea how it’s done.

‘Car trouble?’

The sudden deep voice late in the night causes me to get startled, but when I turn around, I can’t help but smile. It’s Captain Syverson, or as he introduced himself yesterday: Sy. ‘Is it that obvious?’ I ask with a smile.

He shrugs, trying to hide his amusement, but fails so miserably. ‘Maybe a little.’

‘Well, it won’t start and I can’t seem to pop the hood.’

‘Typical,’ he notes. ‘You can get the girl out of the big city, but never the big city out of the girl,’ he says with a smile toying on his lips.

I fake gasp, pretending that actually hurt my feelings. ‘Oh, aren’t you hilarious.’ I lean against the car and say: ‘You’re gonna keep making fun of me or are you gonna help me out and fix it?’

‘I can always try.’ He pops the hood with a certain ease that almost embarrasses me and checks the fuels and whatever is in there. I can’t help but look at Sy, especially at his buzzcut. It reminds me of Brandon, but unlike my late husband, Sy rocks a pretty thick beard along with it.

‘Try starting your car for me, if you will,’ Sy says and I get back in the car. I try to get it started, but it’s useless. The sorry sound the car produces is everything but promising. ‘Tricky,’ Sy mutters. ‘Think you need to call a tow to get to the garage.’

‘Really?’ I groan. ‘Great.’

‘I can call someone for you,’ Sy continues, standing in the door opening of the driver’s side. ‘I know a guy who works at both the towing company and owns a garage. He owes me anyway.’

I shake my head. ‘You don’t have to, Sy.’

‘It’s totally fine,’ he says, bringing his own phone to his ear. He walks around the door, to close off the hood of my car. I can hear him talking to someone, his thick accent even more prominent. While Sy is arranging something, I open the glove compartment to grab some stuff that the people in the garage don’t need to see. Some lady products, some cash for emergencies and—

A picture of Brandon and me.

It’s taken three minutes after we officially bought this car and the owner of the shop made a picture of us with his polaroid camera to celebrate the purchase.

I kinda forgot it was here.

The picture disappears into my own purse and I step out of the car at the same time Sy hangs up the phone. ‘He can tow it to the garage tomorrow,’ Sy says. ‘He is kinda busy now.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I say, locking the car after checking if I can leave it here without my personal belongings showing. ‘Then I’ll just start walking home. Thanks though for your help.’

‘I can offer you a lift.’

I smile and shake my head. ‘No, please, don’t bother. You already did plenty. I have two legs and I can use them, so…’ Sy lets his eyes wander over my legs, causing me to snap my fingers. ‘My eyes are up here, Cap, thank you very much.’

‘Excuse me,’ he says, not making eye contact, causing me to laugh. Never did I peck the captain for turning into such a shy mess. It’s kinda funny. ‘But please, let me offer you a lift. I know that in Chicago the independent woman trick works, but allow me to show you some Texan chivalry.’

I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it anyway. ‘Okay, sorry sir. Show me the way to your carriage.’

Sy chuckles. ‘It ain’t fancy, but it’ll bring you home.’

I could’ve known that he would drive a truck. Sy is a truck kinda guy and also someone too lazy to wash it. I think there is an inch of dust on it. He helps me in the truck and when he drives off, I can tell he is holding back a little.

‘Don’t mind me,’ I tell him. ‘Drive as you want. I can take it.’

Sy chuckles. ‘Lemme guess, you drive like the devil’s chasing ya.’

‘I do not,’ I say with a smile. ‘I’m a lovely driver. If I were an Uber driver, I only would have five star reviews.’

‘Sure.’ He leans back in his seat, obviously thinking about the right thing to say. ‘Sorry ‘bout my momma.’

‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Your mom is lovely. An absolute dear. I think she might be one of my favorite customers along with your dad.’

‘Really?’ Sy seems genuinely surprised, almost like we’re not talking about the same woman. ‘It’s just that sometimes she can be a bit nosy.’

‘It’s okay, she means well. Your dad is also really sweet. If I didn’t know any better, I would actually think he is ready to adopt me.’

He starts to laugh, a deep baritone filling the car. ‘You might be right. He always wanted a daughter, but my folks had some fertility issues. I am basically a lucky shot.’

I never knew that. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry to hear.’

He shrugs. ‘Well, thankfully for them, I’m a nice guy.’

‘That’s what you think.’

‘Watch your mouth,’ he snickers.

‘You should give them a great daughter in law,’ I say. ‘I don’t think you have to worry about that being an issue. You’ll find your special lady sooner rather than later. There is an entire line filled with women who want one date with the captain.’ I look out of the window, as the tension in the car thickens. That always happens when people know. ‘So,’ I say, ‘I take it that you know.’

‘Know what?’

A scoff escapes me. ‘Don’t play dumb on me, captain,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘I can tell when people know about what happened.’ It doesn’t make it less painful, though, but I don’t do well on beating around the bush. I’d rather have all the cards on the table.

‘I’m sorry,’ he then says. ‘It’s just that I… I know how hard it can be to talk about it.’

‘Yeah,’ I whisper.

‘I bet you miss him.’

I snort. ‘Every single day. You know, sometimes there is this hope. That one day I’ll wake up and it was all a nasty nightmare and that he is still there.’

Sy doesn’t say anything right away, but maybe that’s because he is thinking about his own time back in Iraq. He must’ve lost some important people in his life too. ‘What was his name?’ he asks.

‘Brandon,’ I answer. I grab the picture from my purse and hold it to the side, so Sy can see it. ‘That’s him,’ I say, ‘after we bought our car.’

‘Is it that car in the lot?’

‘Yeah…’

Sy nods. ‘I’ll tell the guys from the tow and the garage to be extra careful with it.’

It’s such a simple gesture, yet it hits me deep in my heart. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, loud enough for him to hear it. I swallow hard, hoping I am not going to bawl my eyes out here in his truck. That would be such a lovely impression I’ll leave. ‘Really, it means a lot.’

‘Of course.’

I stare at the picture, a soft smile toying on my lips. I remember Brandon totally going out of his way to get the best car for the two of us. We spend around four hours in that shop, made at least five test drives with different cars when my eyes landed on the one I still own now. It was the light blue color that pulled me in like a magnet. Brandon caught me staring at it, before he sneaked up on me, wrapped his strong arms around my waist. ‘Why am I not surprised, miss “Can the bathroom tiles be baby blue, please?”.’

It was such a lovely day.

‘This is me,’ I say, pointing towards the blue home. Sy slowly breaks and comes to a halt. ‘Thanks for the ride. Do I need to do anything with the car?’

He shakes his head. ‘I’ve got this.’

We do swap phone numbers, give him the key of my car and with that I get out of the truck, after telling him not to get out. ‘Thanks again, Sy. I owe you.’

‘You don’t owe me anything, Rose. It’s all good.’

I flash him one more smile, before I close the door of his truck. I wave to him, before walking towards my house. Sy doesn’t leave, probably waits until I am inside.

My place is filled with memories and they start coming back to me right at the porch. I’d sit there, watching Brandon do some lawn work. I wanted to help him, but he told me that working in the burning sun wasn’t good for me. It wasn’t good for him either, but he was used to it, he always said to me.

When I open the front door and I’m inside, turning on some lights, I hear the truck pull up and drive off. I lean against the door, thinking about all the good memories I had with Brandon. Him bringing home dinner, him giving me a hug as he attempted to help me with making some snacks and him drawing me baths when I had one of those excruciating migraines. There were so many things he did and said that I loved about him.

I miss his touch, his kisses and the soft sweet nothings he would whisper in my ear.

My eyes land on one of the pictures and I hesitantly grab it. It was on our wedding day, our small wedding. I can’t believe it’s already been a year and a half years since he…

Left this earth.

Tears burn in my eyes and I walk to the living room, where I plop on the couch. Soft cries are now filling the living room. Not one hair on my head would’ve thought that this could happen to me. Sure, I saw it on the news and always felt for those families, but also thought that it could never happen to me. Then I started dating a man of the military, however I still thought that experiencing this type of loss was gonna happen in my future.

‘I miss you, Brandon,’ I whisper, leaning back in the sofa and hiding my face in my hands.

Since a few months, the days where it all hits me in the face with a bag of bricks are getting rarer, because I have given Brandon’s loss a resting place deep in my heart.

But today it’s one of those days again.

❃ ❃ ❃

I almost forgot my car was at the garage, mostly because my neighbor would give me a lift to the Oak, since it was on his route anyway. However, two days later when I’m standing in the kitchen, someone pulls up in front of my place. I peak out of the window, to see Sy getting out of the car.

Oh, there she is again, my beautiful car. I walk towards the door and smile widely when open it. ‘Captain Syverson, what a surprise.’

He chuckles as closes the door behind him. ‘I decided to be a real gentleman and bring you back your car.’ He throws the keys towards me and I catch them mid air. ‘Nice one.’

‘So tell me, how much do I have to pay?’ I ask him, as I approach him.

‘Nothing. It’s all on me, Rose.’

I glare at him. ‘Sy, please don’t do that. I can pay you.’

He nods and says: ‘I know, but see this as a little thank you for dealing with my parents, mainly my mom, when I wasn’t there. She cannot stop boasting about you. Think she is more proud of you than of me.’

‘Nonsense, she loves you a lot,’ I say to him. ‘She’s really proud of you. I think the moment I started working there till a day before you got back, you were all she was able to talk about.’ I cross my arms in front of my chest and say: ‘I wished my mom was like that.’

‘You’re momma ain’t proud of you?’

‘No, not when you have two academically gifted brothers.’ I hear my alarm go off back in the kitchen and say: ‘Oh shit, I’ve got something in the oven. I have to go, I’m so sorry, but I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow, free food and drinks on me. Beer, espresso or a glass of water with whatever you want to eat.’

‘That’s not necessary.’

‘It is,’ I interrupt him. ‘But the offer only stands for tomorrow, so be there!’

He chuckles when I run towards the door. ‘See you tomorrow then.’

I hold up my hand and yell: ‘Thanks Sy, for the car.’

‘No problem.’

The fair wasn’t Sy’s idea. It was Hunter’s grand plan. Sy has been home for quite some time now, helping his folks with some yard work, while also hanging out with his friends and chatting his time away with Rose at the Oak. It has become a daily thing, where she tries to guess what he wants to eat and drink. She’s always right, because whenever she guesses something, he just says she’s correct, mostly because she starts to smile really wide and her eyes start to glimmer and the hurt disappears. It’s important for him to see that hurt dissolve, even if it’s for a few moments.

He saw that pain in her eyes, those tears and memories flashing through her mind when she was in his truck. He saw that picture of the two of them and they looked so happy. It pains him to know that behind every letter he writes, there is devastation. He always knew it, but he build a wall, making sure that it never got too close.

But with Rose, it does come a lot closer.

It is becoming painfully obvious to both him and his friends that he is developing some serious feelings for Rose. That’s why he can’t sit at the Oak with his friends anymore, though Rose never says anything about his not so subtle friends.

Does she even notice?

The loud noises, the flashing lights and the smell of cotton candy is around him everywhere. He watches Hunter trying to impress some lady, but he isn’t very successful in showing off, because she keeps laughing at him when he tries to shoot something. But maybe that’s his charm, because the woman isn’t walking away.

Zeke decides that enough is enough, because he walks up to the pair and give the poor fella some emotional support. That leaves Sy with just Max, who takes a sip from his beer. ‘So, when you gonna make a move on Rose?’

They have been avoiding the subject for at least an hour now, so it doesn’t surprise him that one or the other brought it up. Took him long enough. ‘I can’t, man.’

‘Why not?’ Max and Sy both sit down and lean against the backrest of the park bench. ‘It’s kinda obvious she doesn’t totally despise you. She always laughs at your stupid jokes.’

‘Tons of people do, because my jokes are good,’ Sy mutters. ‘Besides: I’m not going to talk about it anymore. She’s a widow, man. You can’t just assume she’s ready to date yet.’

Max can’t argue with that, because he simply nods. He has a grin on his lips, before he says: ‘Look, there’s your lady.’

Sy looks up—way too quickly—and sees Rose with two of her friends, who also work at the Oak. She looks different than she usually does at work. She swapped her jeans, the apron and black t-shirt with the Oak emblem on it for a tight floral dress, that accentuates her long legs. She’s quite a bit taller than her friends, hence the reason she probably doesn’t wear heels like the other two.

Rose runs her fingers through her black hair, holding a brown handbag in her hands. She looks around and her eyes land on Sy. She smiles widely when she notices him and waves.

‘Oh, look at that,’ Max chuckles, holding up his beer, as Sy holds up his hand. ‘Maybe we’re going too far by saying she likes likes you, but she definitely thinks you are a good friend.’

She does? Sy sure hopes she would. Rose excuses herself when a group of—utterly harmless—guys start to talk to them and walks over to Max and himself. ‘Captain,’ she says, ‘fancy seeing you here. Hi there, Max.’

‘Hi Rose,’ Max says. ‘You know, have a seat. I’ll see whether or not your friends could use some help.’ He gets up, leaving Rose and Sy by themselves.

Sy stands up, gesturing she should take a seat. He watches her sit down and smiles when when he takes a seat next to her.

‘You’re always such the gentleman.’

‘Raised well by my momma.’

‘Oh, I bet,’ she says with a beautiful smile, that only makes his heart race more. This crush thing is running outta hand. He feels like a teenager again, the way his stomach twists and turns in a good way whenever he is around her. He even dreams about her every single night. ‘So, any reason you didn’t come in today?’

‘Busted,’ Sy chuckles. ‘My momma needed some help.’

Rose tilts her head. ‘Is she okay?’

‘Oh, she’s fine, she just… Thought she could you know fix something herself, but kinda hurt herself in the process. She was trying to bake something.’

‘I see,’ Rose says, ‘well, if she needs anything, just let her call me. I think she has my number.’

Sy chuckles. ‘Ah miss Rose, you are too damn sweet.’

She simply shrugs, before taking a deep breath. ‘Want to do something here? Maybe win me a stuffed animal?’

‘What makes you think I can win you a stuffed animal?’

‘Training,’ she says. ‘I mean, you are going to be better than your friend Hunter over there. He is experiencing some severe trouble with the fishing, it’s almost getting pathetic.’

‘You can just say it’s pathetic,’ Sy says, already standing up. Rose follows his lead and together they walk towards one of the stands where he has to shoot little tins.

‘Ah,’ the guy behind the stand says, ‘if it isn’t mister Luke Syverson. I can see you are finally daring it again.’ He doesn’t even wait for an answer, because he turns to Rose—his eyes turning into heart eyes and he is not even hiding it, the son of a bitch—and says: ‘A few years ago, the captain came here as well, wanting to win something for a little girl whose dad couldn’t. Turns out he couldn’t as well.’ The man starts to laugh, causing Sy’s blood to boil.

Way to embarrass him.

‘Well,’ Rose says, not exactly impressed by what the guy is saying, ‘I think this’ll go splendid.’ She pats Sy on his underarm and says: ‘You can do it.’

He chuckles, but that is mostly to mask his slight awkwardness. ‘What do you want, sunshine?’

Rose smiles. ‘I want the giraffe.’

‘The giraffe comin’ right up.’ He grabs the toy pistol and holds it up. He is aware these things are rigged, so when the first shot goes astray, he needs to rethink his strategy a little bit. He moves the barrel a bit to the right, since the plastic bullets kinda went to the left. With that adjustment, he manages to shoot down all the tins.

The guy was right though, that a few years back Sy failed miserably, but he was different then. He wasn’t even a captain yet. He was filled with testosterone, wasn’t calm and had this desperate need to prove himself.

But that’s the past now.

‘Oh my, the captain did it,’ Rose squeals. ‘Kind sir, I’d like the giraffe second to the right, please.’

With a grumble, he hands Rose the giraffe and the two of them walk away from the stand.

‘You’re really amazing,’ Rose says. ‘You totally saw how the game was rigged and anticipated on that.’

‘You saw that?’ he asks in awe.

She nods. ‘Oh totally. I had an uncle, who worked at fairs. Honestly, I could’ve won the giraffe myself, but where’s the fun in that?’

Sy starts to laugh, patting himself on the chest. ‘You’re quite something.’

‘I like to surprise.’ Rose looks at the giraffe and asks: ‘What should I name him? I think he looks like a Sy, doesn’t he?’

His eyes land on the giraffe as well and nods in agreement, while he tries to keep his cool. ‘Yeah, he kinda does.’

Every minute he spends with Rose flies by, mostly because she is very easy to be around with. No tricks, no pretending, just her being her lovely self. She rolls her eyes, nudges his side every now and then when he is being an idiot and eventually manages to talk him into going on the ferris wheel. ‘Or is the brave captain Syverson afraid of heights?’ she teases him.

‘You’re walking on thin ice, missy.’

She pulls him with her to wait in line and after only a short wait, they step into the rickety cabs. The screechy noise it makes when he sits isn’t very comforting. Before they can put the shackles on their lap, he takes off his hoodie, leaving him only in his favorite red shirt.

‘Treating me on a strip tease?’ Rose asks with cocked eyebrows. ‘Captain Syverson.’ She pretends to fan herself with her hand.

He chuckles, before placing the hoodie on her lap. ‘Don’t want ya to flash anyone.’

She genuinely seems impressed, because she has a different type of smirk on her lips. There is something so effortlessly beautiful and gorgeous about her, he could look at her forever. ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

The cab slowly goes up and they stop nearly at the top. ‘Wow,’ she says in absolute awe, ‘I’ve never seen San Antonio from this height.’

‘You never been into a ferris wheel here?’

She shakes her head, while a nostalgic smile paints her face. ‘No, Brandon always thought the cabs were unsafe. Didn’t want to risk it, because he claimed he had precious cargo with him.’ Sy witness as she chuckles, but he knows that chuckle. It’s a masking one. He can see her fighting the tears.

Sy wants to respond, but she beats him to it.

‘You know, you might have to miss me for a week at the Oak. My parents decided to pay me a visit and entertaining them when they’re here is like a full time job. The country life compared to the high class life they are used to, is quite a lot for them to take in.’

‘I see,’ he says, trying to hide his disappointment. A whole week of not seeing her at the Oak? ‘You and your folks don’t… Get along well?’

‘It depends, but this week will be filled with them trying to convince me that moving back to Chicago is the right thing for me to do.’ She lets out a snicker and says: ‘I’ve always been a bit different and there are times where they absolutely hate it. Goodness gracious, it makes me sound like the main character of some stupid coming of age movie. So sorry.’

He simply shakes his head, not accepting her apology. ‘How are you different?’

‘I went to college, helped companies with their advertisements, but that wasn’t where my heart was. I hated the lack of social contacts, compared to my two brothers, who both work in IT and barely communicate with anyone.’

‘You’ve got brothers?’ he says. ‘Nice.’

‘Well,’ she says with a shrug, ‘it’s okayish. They do what my parents want: get married, start a family while they are in Chicago, close to my parents. I get fired because what I was doing at my job was lacking, go on an impromptu road trip with my friends to Texas, fall in love, marry a military man and then become a widow all before I’m thirty.’ She shakes her head as she stares over San Antonio, while the soft breeze blows through her hairs. ‘They try to guilt trip me into moving back.’

‘You don’t owe them anything,’ Sy says, as this feeling of protectiveness is taking over. His parents would never do such thing.

‘I know, I know. Thankfully they are staying in an inn, because having them in my house would probably tempt me to maybe smother them with my pillow. Sy, this is maybe too much to ask, but can I hide at your place from time to time?’

‘Of course, our door is always open for you.’

She smiles. ‘Thanks.’ She manages to tear her gaze from the view, to look at the giraffe, blinking away her tears. ‘It’s just that when they are here, I miss him even more.’

Sy nods, understanding how she’s feeling. He watches how she hides her face in her hands. For a few moments he contemplates whether or not he should do it, but hearing her sniffle makes him push all the doubts to the side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and holds the giraffe in his other hand so it won’t slip out of the cab. ‘I understand,’ he whispers. ‘It’s hard.’

Rose leans against his broad body with her own, the contrast between them bigger and more noticeable than ever. ‘It went pretty okay these last few weeks,’ she says, ‘but the idea of my parents trying to pull me away from the place that I’ve come to love just makes it all come back.’

‘You don’t owe them anything,’ Sy says again, ‘remember that, okay?’

‘Yeah, thank you.’

‘You know, you can dump your parents with mine. I’ll tell my mom to put on her nonstop babble facade and your parents will flee Texas within twenty four hours. Mark my words.’

Thankfully she can laugh and hearing her giggle makes him chuckle as well. She dabs her tears from her cheeks and says: ‘I’ll keep it in mind, thank you, Sy. Really, thank you.’

❃ ❃ ❃

It’s been a few days since the fair and also since Sy last heard of Rose. She hasn’t asked him for his help and while he knows he shouldn’t be worried, he still is. He saw at the fair how only the prospect of her parents visiting was eating her alive and she said it herself: they are guilt tripping her into moving back to Chicago.

He wonders how she is.

Sy wanders around the streets, only to see the beautiful long legs of Rose. She sure knows how to accentuate them: the jeans shorts paired with the flats that match her top. He remembers her glare when he was staring at them.

Rose is looking at some flowers at the florist, while there are two people standing behind her. It doesn’t take the results of a DNA test to tell him that they are obviously her parents.

She must feel someone staring at her, because she looks up. Her smile grows wider and starts to wave at him. ‘Sy, hey!’

Okay, now he should go to her. He walks up to them and she mouths to him: ‘Thank you.’ She turns to her parents and says: ‘Mom, dad, this is my friend Sy. Sy, these are my parents. Roger and Chae-won.’

Her parents barely look at him and he receives a ‘you see what I’m dealing with’-look of Rose. ‘Nice to meet you,’ Sy says, trying to be the bigger person here, though he already is experiencing some issues.

Her mom simply nods at him and her dad doesn’t even spare him a glance. Who do these people think they are and how did they manage to have a lovely daughter like Rose?

He turns his attention to Rose, whose smile directed towards him makes all the anger and annoyance building up inside him disappear like ice in the sun. ‘Buying some flowers?’ he asks her.

She nods. ‘Was thinking about it. Does your mom like roses?’

Oh she’s bold, wanting to buy flowers for his mom, while her own is standing close by. ‘Only the yellow ones.’

‘Oh, she’s a strange one,’ she chuckles. ‘Can tell you’ve got that from her.’ She sticks out her tongue and adds: ‘I’ll buy your mom some flowers and—’

‘Rosemary, you wanted to have something to eat?’ her mother interrupts.

‘—maybe we can meet your parents at the Oak?’ Her eyes tell him the ‘please’ she is not saying out loud.

He thinks about the promise he made her in the ferris wheel. ‘Of course, they are already there, was actually going to meet them.’

‘Let me buy some yellow roses and we’re ready to go.’

❃ ❃ ❃

Rose is much more comfortable with Sy’s parents than her own, which tells Sy enough about her relationship with her parents. She pulls his momma into a hug, gives her the roses and even his dad is on the receiving end of Rose’s slightly desperate hugs.

His momma told him a few nights back that she invited Rose a couple times over, but she only accepted once. They kept saying how she is pretty closed off, barely spoke about her personal life. While his parents were slightly disappointed in themselves that they didn’t make Rose feel comfortable enough to share her personal life with them, it made him feel special, because he got to know her. He got a peak into her heart and figured out about what bothered her, including the slightly sour relationship she has with her folks.

Rose introduces his parents to her own and while Sy could barely muster up the politeness his momma taught him, his parents are themselves. His momma can’t shut up, his dad simply observes it all, while both are the prime example of the Texan friendly.

Rose walks towards the bar and takes a seat there, as she places her arms on the wooden table top, before dropping her head on them. ‘This is horrendous. It’s only been three days, but it feels like eternity already.’

Sy spend what? Fifteen minutes with them and that alone already felt like an eternity. ‘Your parents are quite something, indeed.’

‘Quite something?’ She starts to laugh. ‘They are awful and that’s not even bad enough to describe them. It was all: “Rosemary, you have to come back to Chicago” and “Rosemary, San Antonio is not a place for a woman like you” and “Rosemary, Brandon has been buried for a year and a half now, it’s time to go back home now”.’ She groans. ‘They don’t understand that this is my home now. It’s almost like they do not take into consideration that this is the place where I’m able to mourn and to accept the fact that my… my… that Brandon is never coming back.’

Sy can’t help but admire Rose, for being able to talk about her trauma in the way she does. He has learned that over the years, resulting in him being a tiny bit more open about it, but still, it’s hard for him. His parents barely know anything that happened back in Iraq, nor do his best friends.

But Rose can say what’s pressing on her heart, what’s bothering her and somehow is able to articulate well.

It’s a skill he’ll probably never master.

‘You know,’ he says, ‘you can take a break from if you want. Say that you have something to do.’

‘Like what?’

‘An emergency with a friend? Really, momma doesn’t mind, neither does dad. Besides, Hunter owes me one.’

She scoffs. ‘You can’t just hand the favors people owe you to me, Sy.’

‘Doesn’t matter. Come on, just act along, will you?’ He flashes her a smile, hoping that’ll make her say yes.

She starts to laugh. ‘Okay, captain, whatever you say.’

Sy and Rose slide off their bar stools and walk towards the table, where his momma is still talking and her parents are obviously bored. ‘Rose and I gotta go,’ he says, ‘Hunter really needs our help.’

Dad immediately gets that it’s fake, but he simply nods. ‘Say hi to Hunter from me, will ya, son?’

Sy simply nods and his momma sees this as a moment to distract Rose’s parents even more, because she starts babbling about how Sy and Hunter have been best friends since forever. ‘Oh, wait, I have a picture with me,’ momma continues and the two of them sneak away.

‘Oh my goodness, did you see their faces?’ Rose laughs once they’re outside. ‘That was absolutely hilarious. Thank you so much, Sy. I could use this break.’

‘Not a problem,’ Sy says, happy to see her a bit more livelier than a few moments earlier.

They arrive at her car and she lets out a sigh, as she probably thinks about her husband. He can see it in her eyes. Before he can think about it, the question leaves his lips. ‘Please forgive me if this is too intruding, but I was wondering if you ever see yourself with someone else?’

She nods. ‘It’s not intruding, Sy. I understand,’ she says in a soft voice and he can’t detect any form of annoyance or that she’s offended. ‘It’s a question I ask myself a lot. I really hope that I’ll find someone that I’m happy with. Brandon told me on our wedding day that if anything ever happens to him, I should find someone better than him. Have yet to find him, but I keep having hope. I kinda want a family one day and you sorta need two people for that.’

Sy nods, taking it all in.

‘Do you see it happening?’ she asks. ‘When your men die and their widows remarry? Have kids and all? Move on?’

‘It happens,’ he says. ‘It’s not easy, but it happens.’

Rose unlocks the car and mutters: ‘Thank the heavens.’

Thankfully my parents have packed their things and basically fled Texas. I think that if I were to spend one more minute with them, I might’ve killed them. Of course, I love my parents, but with their pushiness of wanting me back in Illinois, while I found my forever home, spending time with them is actually becoming unbearable.

I’m back to work at the Oak again and I see Sy and his friends Hunter, Zeke and Max sitting at their favorite table. I don’t know what it is about Sy, but I really like being around him. It’s just that he is so likable and easy to be around with. I can talk about everything when I’m with him. Maybe it’s because he is also in the military. Talking to him about losing Brandon, didn’t feel like I was sharing my sad sob worthy backstory, more like I was showing a part of myself no one had ever known before.

‘Howdy fellas,’ I say with a smile when I approach their table.

‘Finally, you’re becoming a real Texan girl,’ Hunter chuckles.

‘I’m learning, I’m learning.’ I pull out my little notebook and say: ‘Okay, you guys better want to order something. Lemme guess, a beer?’

‘While it’s definitely four in the afternoon somewhere,’ Sy says, ‘an espresso will do, sunshine.’

The nickname shouldn’t make my heart beat a whole lot faster, but it sure does. Is there a possibility that I… Like him? I quickly write down the rest of the orders and Hunter wouldn’t be Hunter if he didn’t suggest: ‘And how about a little bit of your time?’

‘In your dreams, lover boy,’ I say, smacking him in the back of his head with the notebook. ‘Be right back, boys.’

As I’m sitting at the bar, waiting for my friend and colleague Lottie to prepare the drinks, I feel someone looking at me. I peak over my shoulder, only to meet Sy’s eyes, who quickly averts them.

‘Oh look at that, it’s happening again,’ Lottie notes. ‘The handsome captain is drooling over you, the Rosemary Hill.’

‘Oh shut up,’ I say. ‘He is not—’

‘Into me,’ she interrupts me rolling her eyes. ‘Why is it so hard the believe that he does?’

‘What’s so hard to believe?’ the cook Harold asks.

‘That Syverson is into Rose.’

The cook smiles. ‘He is very into Rosemary,’ he says, before disappearing into the kitchen again.

I let out a sigh. Isn’t it fantastic that people I work with are thinking about the matter like this, and to make things even worse: are talking about this. ‘You done?’

‘Nope.’ She places the three drinks on the tray, as we’re still waiting for the espresso. ‘Really, Rose, I don’t understand. Why don’t you ask him out? What is stopping you?’

‘Well one: he does’t like me. Two: I am not asking him out, because I might be a bit more old fashioned than you think. And three: I made a promise to myself. Never a military man again.’

Lottie nods, understanding where I’m coming from and says: ‘Well, fair enough. The last reason though. I’m not too sure about the first one. Really, he likes you. It’s literally not even subtle anymore how much he is crushing on you.’

‘You done now?’

‘Almost. There is one more thing I want to say: it’s not bad to start dating him or at least develop feelings for him. You are doing great and you said yourself that Brandon wouldn’t mind if you started dating someone, maybe even something that would grow into more.’ She places the espresso on the tray and says: ‘That’s all and I will end it with that piece of wisdom. Here you go, sugar.’

I’m still a bit dazed with everything she said and I simply nod. ‘Thanks.’ I place the tray on my arm and walk towards the table, trying not to have Lottie’s words go to my head. ‘Okay guys, here you go.’ I give the guys their respective drinks and they all say a thank you.

Sy smiles and gives me something special: ‘Thanks, sunshine.’

I place my hand on his broad and strong shoulder, before I can even think about it. I gave him a hug a few nights back and this big tree of a man gives great hugs. ‘You need anything else?’

‘No,’ they all say. ‘Thanks Rose.’

‘Of course.’

When I step away from the table, it only takes a few seconds before Sy caught up with me. ‘Rose, please, wait up.’

I turn around, a little worried. Did I give them the wrong order? No, he ordered an espresso, that I didn’t mess up. My palms get sweaty. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothin’, I just have a question.’

‘Okay, ask away.’

Sy takes a deep breath, as his eyes dart through the Oak. ‘You want to do something tonight? With me?’

Lottie is gonna freak out if she hears about that. I hate that there is a possibility she is right, about both his side and my side. ‘Of course. What did you have in mind?’

Sy looks and acts like such a tough guy, but I see some cracks in his facade. He is relieved, but also a little bit nervous. ‘Drive in theater?’

‘You want to go with me to a drive in theater?’ I start to beam with excitement. ‘Wow, I would love that. Very original, captain.’

He cocks an eyebrow, before he chuckles. ‘You really want that?’

I nod. ‘Of course, I’d love to. It’s been a hot minute since I did that.’ I can already feel this thing bubble up deep inside of me. It’s a familiar feeling, however.… I can’t let that happen. ‘As friends,’ I quickly tell him. ‘Strictly as friends, Sy.’

He frowns, but then he nods in understanding. ‘Of course. As friends.’

❃ ❃ ❃

For someone who is going out with a friend, I sure as hell take a lot of time perfecting my appearance for it. The midi yellow dress with small flowers on it, paired with some white sneakers will have to do it for tonight. I curled strands of my hair to create some beach waves and my make-up is light, with some pink lipstick and nude colored eye shadow.

I walk downstairs to pack my purse, when I pass a few pictures of me and Brandon. One of the pictures was taken by my Chicago friends, when Brandon hoisted me up after I was launched off the mechanic bull. The other pictures are from our dates within the first three weeks of dating. Restaurant, coffee dates and long walks through parks and the city.

‘I’m going on a date,’ I whispers, ‘just as friends. Obviously. I know you said I had to move on if something ever happened to you, but it’s so much harder than I originally thought. I actually think you’d like him.’

I grab one picture of the wall, one that is just of him. I made that picture on the night before our wedding. I can’t stop smiling at the picture and after I dabbed some stray tears away, the doorbell rings.

Quickly I place the picture back on the wall, grab my purse and rush to the door. ‘Hi,’ I say with a smile.

‘Hey sunshine,’ Sy says, ‘you ready?’

‘I’m as ready as I can ever be.’

Sy helps me in his truck, before he gets in himself. ‘Okay, so I’m sorry about the movie choice, but it’s Speed. There wasn’t another and—’

‘You mean Speed with Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, also the masterpiece of the 90s?’

He frowns. ‘Yes, that one. I take it that you don’t mind?’

‘Mind? Sy, we’re going to watch Keanu Reeves on a big screen. That I would never mind: it’s a treat for the eye.’ I clap my hands in excitement and say: ‘I mean, you’ve got Sandra Bullock to look at, while I’ll drool over Keanu Reeves.’

‘I’ll make sure to hydrate you from time to time.’

I nudge his side. ‘Shut up.’

‘I brought snacks by the way. I wanted to bring some chocolate, but I was afraid it would melt, so I got chips, some salty snacks and drinks. I heard there is an ice cream stand there, I can buy you something, if you want.’

‘Is that even a question? You can always buy me ice cream.’ I lean back in the seat and take a deep breath. ‘So, what did you do for the rest of the day?’

‘Just hanging with the guys,’ he says.

‘When are you going back?’

‘In two weeks,’ he answers. ‘I got a couple of weeks extra.’

I nod. ‘You’ll be missed,’ I admit. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen your parents this happy in the time I’ve known them.’

Sy chuckles, but that’s more to mask the hurt. He always puts on such a brave face, but I know he is in pain. He just buried it deep. ‘I know.’

‘Do you have ambitions to always be in the military?’ I ask.

He slows down the car, as we’re all getting in line for the drive in theater. ‘I don’t know.’ He sighs deeply as his fingers drum on the steering wheel. ‘I don’t want to, but it’s the only thing I know.’

I barely seen Sy so vulnerable. Usually it’s him listening to my sorrows, but now it’s the other way around.

And that does things to my heart.

‘You have skills, Sy,’ I say. ‘Plenty. I mean, you’re a natural leader, you can detect danger from a mile away and you’re brave. I think there are plenty of working fields that can’t wait for you to join.’

‘Like what?’

‘With your driving, you could drive an ambulance, or just become a police officer.’ I gasp when I realize something. ‘No, wait, you should become a firefighter. That is such a job for you. One time, like a few months ago, there was a gas leak in my street and they were so sweet and swift. I got to ride along the truck to a hotel for the night. Two days later, they came to have dinner at the Oak, recognized me and told me all the specifics about the gas leak. I think you’d be perfect for that.’

Sy nods. ‘You know, I’ll think about it.’ He receives two tickets from the man in the orange vest, who tells us where we can park. ‘What about you?’ he asks, driving slowly towards our destination. ‘You want to continue working in the Oak?’

‘I kinda want to. It’s such a lovely place and I finally get to do something I really enjoy. It doesn’t pay quite well as my previous job, but the interactions, the jokes and the people really make up for it.’

Sy smiles. ‘You’re probably my favorite waitress,’ he says. ‘Guess it runs in the Syverson genes.’

❃ ❃ ❃

Time spend with Sy is absolutely lovely and goes by so quickly, because we’re having so much fun. I’ve never been this long with him one on one. I mean, he helped me with my car, we sat in the ferris wheel together at the fair, but this is different. While I specifically wanted this to be two friends together, it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like my first official date with Brandon.

The jitters, the nerves. It’s all present.

And I hate myself for it.

The movie is all finished, but Sy and I are still talking in his car. He has been mindlessly driving around, as we share stupid stories about when we were younger. It turns out he was quite the dare devil as a kid, always doing slightly stupid stuff, however, according to Sy himself, he totally outgrew that.

‘Shame your hair’s gotta go,’ I note. ‘I really like the slightly longer hair. Never knew you had curls.’

‘I’m full of surprised.’

‘I’ve always wanted curls,’ I say, ‘but it wasn’t in the stars for me.’

‘You’ve got some curls,’ Sy says, as he stops in front of my place.

‘Those are made with a curling iron, Sy,’ I chuckle. ‘My hair is as straight as a piece of paper.’

‘Well, it suits you,’ he says with a shy smile.

I turn to the side, so I can look at him a little better. Sy unbuckles his seatbelt and copies my moves. Despite it becoming dim outside, I can still see his beautiful features.

Am I falling for him?

I made a promise to myself, never a military man again, however… That was before I met Sy. I heard a lot about him, but that was mainly from his mother. Of course she would boast about him, so I felt like she was very biased, but meeting him and getting to know him…

It made me feel things I haven’t felt in so long.

I bite my lip, our eyes linking. ‘What?’ I ask him.

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing, just… You look beautiful.’

Oh no, that is totally making my face heat up and my stomach do all sorts of gymnastic tricks.

The entire mood in the truck is changing. There are so many things I’m thinking about. Feeling his lips on mine, actually moving on… It feels like betraying Brandon, but on the other hand it also feels right. Especially because it’s Sy.

Sy leans in closer and he is a few inches apart from my lips when panic is taking over and I push him off of me. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask him.

He starts to stammer. ‘I’m sorry, I thought… I thought it was okay.’

‘You thought, Sy,’ I say, my tone a lot angrier than I intended. ‘You cannot just kiss me.’

He runs his hand over his short hairs. ‘Why not? Didn’t you feel what I felt?’

Yes. I clench my jaw, as break our eye contact. ‘I can’t do this. I mean, I like you and I think I like you a whole lot, but we can’t happen.’

‘Why?’

‘Because, Sy, I can’t lose you too,’ I snap. ‘I can’t have you going back to Iraq, while I wait here, praying you will come back alive. Receiving a phone call, a letter and attend a funeral? Burying someone I so deeply care about? I cannot go through that again. Not as your girlfriend at least.’

Sy sighs deeply.

‘I finally managed to give Brandon a place in my heart, but I will not get into something, with a possibility to redo the entire traumatic event. I’m not doing that.’

‘I understand,’ he says. ‘I’m very sorry, Rose, I totally overstepped.’

I have no idea what to say to him anymore, so I simply nod. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.’ I get out of the truck and without looking back I walk towards my porch and open the door. When I close the door behind me, tears roll over my cheeks.

I slide to the floor and deafening cries fills my house. Why does it have to be so hard? Why is moving on so damn difficult? I thought that when I would fall for someone, it would be the real deal, but of course I fall for someone in the military again.

My phone peeps and I let out a yelp, before checking my screen.

Sy: I’m so so sorry, Rose. I shouldn’t have done that.

Sy: Please forgive me.

I take a deep breath and wipe away my tears, before I type something back to him.

Rose: It’s okay

But is it really though?

Sy made the biggest mistake he ever could’ve made. He regrets overstepping all sorts of boundaries, he regrets following his heart, thinking it was the right choice. Does he have that poor of an instinct or is it only because this is different than a war zone? This is his personal life, maybe he is an idiot in that department.

He has had girlfriends, but whenever shit got too serious, he was the one to break it all off, because he was afraid. Now he thought he finally met the woman of his dreams and he screws up big time.

He actually doesn’t want to go to the Oak anymore and somehow managed to not go for an entire week. But the moment he has to leave for Iraq is drawing closer and closer and his mom is forcing him to go, especially because he is leaving tomorrow. She is insisting on having one more meal at the Oak with him, his dad and his friends.

And dining at the Oak means seeing Rose.

Only his friends know about the date he and Rose had—as friends—and they also know how much he screwed up.

Together with his folks, Hunter, Zeke and Max, he sits down at their favorite table. Rose walks up to them and in a cheery voice she asks: ‘Good afternoon everyone, what can I get you?’

Sy however can jab right through that fake cheeriness. He is totally making it awkward for her and he hates that.

As everyone is ordering and she writes it all down, he cannot tear his eyes from her. She looks effortlessly beautiful today, but when doesn’t she? ‘Sy?’ she asks. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘Yes, an espresso and an omelette, please.’ The nickname ‘sunshine’ nearly escapes his lips, but he holds it in. No need to make it more awkward.

She nods and that’s the moment his momma takes ahold of Rose’s hand. ‘It’s his last day. Tomorrow he’s leaving.’

‘Oh,’ Rose says, looking at him immediately. Something’s changing in her eyes, but he can’t seem to detect what exactly it is. ‘I see. Well, make sure you tell me when you leave.’ And with that she walks away to get their orders in.

Time passes by slowly and while his momma cannot stop talking, he barely is listening to her. It’s Zeke who nudges him and manages to break him away from his thoughts. ‘You okay, man?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Sy mumbles, but in all honesty, he isn’t. He hasn’t felt this bad in ages. He runs his hand over his freshly shaved buzzcut and sighs. ‘What do I say to her?’ he then asks. ‘When I tell her goodbye?’

‘You let her talk,’ Zeke tells him. ‘It’s important to know what she has to say, okay? When the time is right, tell her that you’re sorry.’

He excuses himself from the table after they paid and walks over to Rose, who sits at the bar, enjoying her break. ‘Hey,’ he says.

She looks up with a smile. ‘Hey Sy.’ She places down her phone and turns sideways. ‘So, you’re leaving tomorrow?’

He nods. ‘I am.’

Rose bites her lip and places her hand on his arm. ‘Sy, listen, I am so sorry for… For what happened in the car.’

He shakes his head. ‘No, if there is someone that needs to apologize, it’s me, Rose. I had no right doing such thing.’

She slides off the barstool and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He pulls her tightly against his body, and buries his face in her shoulder. ‘I’ll miss you, Sy,’ she tells him. ‘Just make sure you’ll come back.’

‘I’ll make sure of that,’ he says, tears burning in his eyes. Never was saying goodbye so hard, but it sure is when he has to say it to her. Never in his life did he feel so alive, so seen.

Rosemary Hill sure changed his life forever.

When she pulls back from the hug, she holds his face in her hands and sighs, before letting go of him completely. ‘Be careful out there.’

He nods. ‘I will.’

❃ ❃ ❃

It has been a few weeks since he left San Antonio and exchanged his home town for Iraq. Sy already received multiple letters from his mom, a care package from his dad and some gifts from his friends. Secretly he hopes that one day he’ll get a letter from Rose.

He really wants a letter from her. He misses her so much.

Sy has been thinking about what she said: about him joining the fire department. It would mean he’s closer to his family, his friends and closer to her. Rose told him she liked him, meaning that one day she could give him a shot. Give him the opportunity to show her that he can treat her right. Treat her the way she deserves.

And if that means that this is his last tour, then so be it.

‘Yo captain,’ he hears from behind him. ‘You got a package. They really miss you at the home front.’ He receives the package handed to him and when he opens it, he sees it’s…

Sy the giraffe.

The same stuffed animal he won for Rose at the fair. He grabs the letter out of the box and opens it, her neat handwriting all over the page.

Sy would be lying if he said that the letter did him nothing, because it does all sorts of things to him. He dabs his eyes dry and stands up, rereading the letter over and over again. She likes him, that’s the most important thing in it, but he shouldn’t forget that she’s scared as well.

He understands. If he were in her position, he’d be scared too.

❃ ❃ ❃

Weeks have gone by and Sy finally is able to call home. He has a few minutes to call one person. Normally he’d call his momma or one of his friends, but now he dials a different number. One he knows by heart.

‘Hello,’ he hears from the other side of the line and his breathing stops for a second. Sy missed hearing Rose’s voice. After her letter, he send one back. Telling her that he understands, that she should only do things when she is ready for it and when she is, that he’ll be right there waiting.

‘Hey Rose, it’s me,’ he says. To clarify—even though he probably doesn’t have to—he adds: ‘Sy.’

It stays eerily quiet from the other side of the line. He is afraid she hung up, but then she says: ‘Sy… How are you?’

‘I’m better now that I’m hearing your voice,’ he says. ‘I missed you.’

He hears her chuckle from the other side of the line. ‘I missed you too. I just got your letter today.’

‘Really?’ he asks. ‘Oh.’ That shouldn’t make him doubt this much, yet it does.

And then he hears a sniffle come through from the other line. Oh no, Rose is crying and he isn’t there to comfort her.

‘Rose? Are you okay?’ he asks. ‘Sunshine, please talk to me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she hiccups. ‘It’s just that… It’s so hard. Being on this side of the line again, especially with the way we said our goodbyes.’

‘No, no, please don’t say that. It’s okay. It’s all okay, sunshine. Don’t feel bad about it.’

‘But how can’t I feel bad about it? I pushed you away, Sy. I let you go to Iraq without telling you that… That I… That I’m falling in love with you.’

That takes him by surprise. ‘What?’ he asks. ‘You are?’

‘Yes and it’s scaring me. The whole falling in love again, especially because it brings back all sorts of memories. I know that one day I have to move on and I… Oh my goodness, I can’t say it. I’m sorry, Sy. I’m so sorry.’

And with that she hangs up.

❃ ❃ ❃

Sy is happy to touch American soil again. It has been a long couple of months, especially after that phone call with Rose. It was the last time he spoke to her. He didn’t receive a letter, he didn’t dare to call her again and the only thing that he has from her left is her first and only letter and Sy the Giraffe.

The giraffe plushie is securely packed in his bag and he steps out of the plane. Walking that distance from the plane to the ever-growing crowd. He sees his parents and he starts walking a little bit faster. Momma pulls him into a tight hug and starts to cry, like she always does. ‘I missed you, darlin’. Oh, have I missed you.’

‘I missed you too.’ Sy pulls his dad into a tight bear hug. The three of them walk towards the parking lot, his momma telling him all the things he needs to help her with. He starts to laugh at her, because he truly missed her a lot.

When they reach the parking lot, he starts to frown. Is that…

It has to be.

One, it’s the same light blue car she owns and two, those legs he recognizes from anywhere. He hands his bag to his dad, before walking up to her. ‘Rose?’ he asks.

She nearly jumps when she hears his voice, too much into her own thoughts. Hastily she pushes her hair out of her face. ‘Sy,’ she says in a breathless tone.

‘What are you doing here?’

My entire brain has been a mess the day I said my goodbyes to Sy. I had no idea how much impact him leaving would have on me, but it isn’t surprising. It brought back all sorts of memories, of me and Brandon, but also the moments Sy and I had shared.

Not seeing him with his parents or just by himself in the Oak, felt like such a void in my days. These passed few months have been so rough on me.

First I thought I made the right decision, but then I wandered around my house and found the letters Brandon wrote me. All those memories, those sweet words he wrote me, as an answer to everything I wrote him.

So that’s what made me write a letter to Sy and I got one back. I couldn’t believe he send me one back. That feeling of euphoria when I received that letter, was quickly accompanied by a phone call that haunts me to this day.

After that, time has been going by so super slowly and despite my best efforts to forget about it, put it all behind me, I have been thinking about him non stop. Did I just make it worse or is it for the best?

His parents however kept inviting me and I continued to accept, maybe because that was the closet to Sy I could get. Hearing all those stories about him and what he was like when he was younger, plus seeing those pictures about him, made it all a little bit easier, but harder at the same time.

If that makes sense at all.

So, I decided to go back to that support group I went after I buried Brandon, met up with Claudia, who leads the group and sat down with her. I told her everything, from start to finish and she simply nodded, had a question here and there and asked me if I wanted advice or not. Thankfully she did ask me that, because I was too afraid to ask her for some well needed advice.

‘Honey, you need to stop getting into your head, because it’s causing you to be in a downward spiral,’ she told me. ‘Also tell me and be honest with me: are you falling in love with Luke Syverson?’

And the answer was yes.

I was falling in love with Sy.

I had a lot of unused vacation days, so I took all of them and spend my time at either the cemetery or at my place, thinking about moving on, then hesitating, then crying a little bit and then thinking about Sy or Brandon again.

My brain is fried, everything in there is scattered.

But I’ve come to one conclusion: I am in love with Luke Syverson. So in love.

And now I’m here again. At the airport. Deep down I want to join the rest of the crowd, the rest of the happy families who are awaiting their loved ones. It’s just that I can’t. Nausea is taking over and I nearly puke all over the parking lot. I can’t do this, it’s too much for me.

‘Rose?’ I hear the familiar voice behind me.

With lightening speed I turn around and it almost makes my head spin. ‘Sy,’ I manage to say.

‘What are you doing here?’

Don’t you dare turn into a nervous mess, Rose, don’t you dare. But the fact that Sy looks so handsome in his uniform isn’t helping.

‘I’m so sorry,’ is the first thing that rolls out of my mouth. ‘I actually wanted to wait for you right there, but when I got out of the car, I got a severe case of paralyzing nerves and painful memories and I didn’t want you to see me holding my own puke in my hand, so I decided to wait here. But then I freaked out again and… Oh no, I’m babbling, just like your mom. No offense, by the way. Your. mom is really sweet and what I said was pretty mean. I’m sorry.’

He takes off his cap, pushing it in his pocket. ‘Sunshine, what are you doing here?’

Oh, I missed that nickname. ‘I wanted to say I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have hung up on you like that. It’s just that I started bawling like a baby when we were calling and I felt all these emotions build up…’

He shakes his head. ‘You don’t have to apologize for that.’

‘Sy, I was’t lying over the phone. I am in love with you. All the things you did for me pre tour, the fact that you are here, the stories your mom told me, made me realize that you are worth it all.’

He takes a step closer and says: ‘If you are not ready to date, then I understand, Rose. It’s not easy losing your husband and moving on. I get that.’

‘But I want to move on, I am ready to move on, Sy,’ I whisper. ‘I thought about it long and hard, I spoke about it with Claudia and I realized that I want to date you. Slowly, sure, but I do want us to date. I want to support you and be there for you when you’re going back on tour and when you arrive home again. It won’t be easy for me, for us, but I want to try it with you because… Because you deserve someone here for you and moving on with you is the best thing that has happened to me in a while.’

‘Aren’t you in luck then,’ he says with a smile. ‘Because I’m here to stay.’

That must’ve been a hallucination. ‘Wait, what?’

‘This was my last tour. I thought about what you said and maybe it’s time for me to change careers. I never imagined myself in the military until I retire, but I just continued doing what fit in my comfort zone. The military is the only working place I’ve known, but I have finished my obligatory tours and… I need to be here in San Antonio, with my folks, my friends and you.’

I smile, as tears of happiness burn in my eyes. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he confirms. ‘I already had my mom send my credentials over to the fire department and they want to meet me next week.’

I let out a laugh out of both joy and disbelieve. I was willing to go through the pain of missing someone important, to writing letters and calling, but that’s all history. He is going to be right here. Right here with me in San Antonio. ‘Sy, this is unbelievable.’

He chuckles. ‘It sure is.’ He clears his throat, clearly wanting to ask me something. ‘Can I hug you?’

I don’t answer that question. I simply launch myself in his arms and he lifts me up as he pulls me in a tight embrace. ‘I do want to take it slow,’ I whisper.

‘And that’s okay,’ he tells me. ‘Rose, I understand that you want to take your time, but remember: I am in no rush.’

I bury my face in his neck. ‘Thank you, Sy. Thank you for coming back.’

❃ ❃ ❃

Sy and I have been on many dates since he arrived home a few weeks ago. He usually picks me up from work, but today is a little bit different because I am going to pick him up from the base. He has been working there for four weeks, still in the orienting phase of his job, but so far he is absolutely loving it.

I park the car across the street and wander over to the fire station. Igni the Dalmatian runs towards me and I quickly grab the snacks I bought specifically for her from my purse. ‘Igni, sit,’ I say and without missing a beat, she does what I tell her to do. I give her the little snack, a peck on top of her head, before I make my way towards the entrance.

‘Rosemary Hill is in the house!’ Johnny, one of Sy’s colleagues yells the second I enter, followed by a loud applause.

‘Shut up,’ I chuckle, but that doesn’t stop the guys. It only makes them give me a standing ovation.

‘Okay, quiet now,’ Sy’s loud voice interrupts the applause. ‘Don’t you look at my lady,’ he says, smacking some kid on the back of his head. It’s always funny to show up here, because I think I can see a bit of the Captain Syverson from the military. Strong, tough and no nonsense. A total one eighty compared to how he is to me.

‘Look at the captain,’ one says, ‘showing off, trying to impress his woman.’

‘No need to. I’m already impressed,’ I say with a smile.

Sy actually still flexes his arms a little, but it’s not really necessary: his shirt perfectly accentuates them, as it is a bit on the tighter side. His smile grows wider the closer he gets and he holds out his hand for me to take. ‘Ready?’ he asks, pressing a kiss on my knuckles.

‘I sure am. Bye guys!’

‘Bye Rosemary,’ they say, almost sounding like a class full of kindergarteners. Sy clears his throat and they quickly add: ‘Bye Captain, see you tomorrow.’

‘I still can’t believe they call you Captain here,’ I say with a smile, when we pet Igni one last time, before making our way to my car.

‘Well, they asked me to introduce myself, so I did.’

‘As Captain Syverson, you are unbelievable.’ I want to open the door of the driver’s side and get in, but Sy is quick to stop me. ‘What?’ I ask him.

‘I’m driving,’ he says. ‘Come on, you know I absolutely adore you, but there is one thing you are not good at and that is driving.’

‘I drive perfectly fine,’ I defensively say. ‘I’m an excellent driver. You’re just the world’s worst passenger.’

He smiles, before he boops my nose with his finger. ‘I am not,’ he tells me. ‘Please, just let me drive.’

‘Fine,’ I groan, handing him the keys. ‘You want to open my door for me as well?’

‘Always,’ Sy chuckles, walking around the car with me to open the door on the passengers side

Once we’re seated and strapped in our seatbelts, he drives away and he places his hand on my leg. It took me a while before I liked it. A lot of things took a while for me to enjoy. However, once Luke Syverson holds your leg as he drives, you can never go back.

‘Where are we going?’ he asks me.

‘The place with the best view,’ I say with a smile. ‘Because I thought you and I could go on a picnic. Take a right here.’

‘I’d love a picnic,’ he says.

‘And don’t you worry, I brought food, snacks and drinks.’

He searches for my hand and once he got ahold of it, he brings it do his lips, pressing a soft and gentle kiss on it.

We’ve been taking it slow and I absolutely love him for it, though I haven’t said it in those exact words to him.

We arrive at a remote place with a great view (if not the place with the best view) and while Sy gets the baskets with food and drinks, I place down the checkered blanket on the grass and wait for him to join me. ‘Harold made these,’ I say with a smile. ‘I hope you like it.’

‘I know I will, sunshine.’

Sy tells me all about his day, before listening to mine. Usually after work, the two of us sit on my porch, talking about all the things that happened, but it’s nice to have a change of scenery.

‘Your back hurting, sunshine?’ Sy asks me, when I try to stretch it a bit.

‘Yes, a little,’ I mutter. ‘Sitting here on the grass isn’t helping.’

‘You can sit here,’ he says, patting the spot in between his legs. ‘I can be your back rest.’

A few seconds go by, before I decide I actually want that. I push myself up and sit in between his thick thighs. I lean back against his chest and let out a content sigh. This is nice. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘You sure you don’t mind?’

‘I’m sure,’ he says, placing his chin on top of my head. ‘I can take it.’

Of course he can. ‘Sy,’ I say, ‘can I tell you something?’

‘Always.’

‘I think I love you.’ I have thought about it for so long, but never did I say these three words out loud to him. I love you. I remember when I said it to Brandon for the first time, I was a sweaty mess, mostly because it was my first time saying I love you to someone.

Though it’s not my first time anymore, I still have some nerves, the jitters and the fear of rejection.

‘I’m beating you then,’ Sy says, ‘because I know I love you.’

I turn around with a smile. ‘You do?’

‘Oh, one hundred percent positive, sunshine.’ He places a rough hand on my cheek. ‘I love you a whole lot, Rose. You were the one that pulled me through during my last tour and for that I forever owe you.’

I smile. ‘Sy, I am the one that should do the emotional speech where I thank you. You are the one that allowed me to feel something again. To love again.’

He pulls me closer and places his forehead against mine. ‘Guess we were there for each other when we needed it the most.’

I place my hands on his broad chest. ‘Is my captain getting sentimental?’

‘Maybe,’ he smiles, slightly rolling his eyes. ‘Dammit, Rose, I love you so much.’

‘I love you too,’ I chuckle. ‘You should kiss me.’

He nods. ‘I can do that,’ he says. ‘You won’t reject me?’

‘No, of course not. I used to be afraid, but I’m not anymore.’

Sy smiles and gives me a short peck on my lips. Then another one and another one, before pressing his lips firmly on mine. I melt against his frame, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. It’s weird, kissing someone else, but it’s not that weird I need to stop. Taking my time with Sy was the best thing I could’ve done, because I now know I won’t ever regret it.

Never in a million years.

one year later

Today was absolutely grueling. There was a fire at the paper factory and it seemed never ending. Sy’s glad when he stops his truck in front of his girlfriend’s house. He sees Rose crouched down in the yard, planting and potting something.

It’s one of her newest hobbies.

‘There she is,’ Sy says, as he gets out of his truck, ‘my beautiful lady.’

Rose starts to laugh and stands up. ‘My handsome fire fighter. Shit, that uniform never bores me.’ She sticks out her hands and he quickly walks up to her, holding them in his. ‘How was work today?’ she asks. ‘I heard about the fire.’

He nods. ‘It was okay. There were no victims, so that’s all good.’ He pulls her closer to give her a kiss, but he notices a slight change in her demeanor. She isn’t relax, though it was her day off today. ‘Darlin’, what’s on your mind?’

She sighs deeply. ‘Tomorrow it’s Brandon’s birthday.’

Despite never gotten to know Brandon, he is a pretty big part of their lives. There are some pictures around and every now and then she starts to talk about him. Reminiscing about the things that made him unique to her. It happens at the most random moments. When they are in the grocery store during Easter time, she tells him about the time Brandon hid eggs around the neighborhood and pretended to be the Easter Bunny for the kids. When there is a movie on tv and it was one of his favorites, she’ll tell Sy Brandon’s favorite scenes. Sy now watches baseball because that was Brandon’s favorite sport.

Sometimes Sy almost thinks that he knows Brandon. That they were friends, but that’s just because she talks about him in a way that it seems like they’ve known each other for a long time. Because of her openness, he is able to share more about his time in Iraq. Sharing about the men he lost, what he had seen there and how every bullet he fired, ate a bit away of his heart.

‘I see,’ Sy says. After the fire it slipped his mind. ‘What do you want to do tomorrow?’

‘Kinda want to visit his grave,’ she says. ‘Want to go with me?’

‘Of course, of course.’ Sy went with her to visit his grave a little while ago. It was the first time he actually went to the graveyard. He had never been there before, but it went well that day. The weather was nice, Rose told him more stories and he listened on her talking to the stone, to Brandon.

The liberation she has into talking about the matter is a good example for him and he can learn a lesson or two from it.

‘Sy,’ she says in a soft tone, causing him to snap out of his thoughts. ‘Can you give me a hug?’

Without wasting a second, he wraps his arms around her waist. ‘Always,’ he says and she holds him close to her body.

They’ve been growing as a couple, making steps couples usually take in their relationship. Slowly but surely they are mentioning marriage, some pets and kids. It’s not a lot, but they are definitely taking a lot more steps than before.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ she says, ‘do you want to move in with me? I mean, you’re here all the time anyway and I kinda like having you around.’

‘Oh, would I love that,’ Sy says, squeezing her tighter against his body. ‘Just tell me whenever you want me to start packing.’

‘I was thinking later this week,’ she says with a smile. ‘I mean, you still live at your parents place. Packing will be done in a second. You’re not as materialistic as I am.’

Sy gives her a kiss. ‘I still love you though.’

‘Good.’ She gives him a kiss, before deepening it. Oh, does he love deepening kisses with her. Her tongue caresses his bottom lip and he hums in content against her lips.

‘Okay, you two,’ he hears Hunter say, ‘I really hate it when couples rub in my face they did find someone and I still haven’t.’

Rose can’t stop her laughing. ‘You got rejected, Hunter? Again?’

‘No need to be mean,’ Hunter says in a dangerously low tone.

‘But yes, he got rejected. Again,’ Zeke says.

Max nods and adds: ‘It was painful.’

Sy tilts his head. ‘Want something to drink?’

‘Yes, please. My sweet Rose, can you arrange free drinks at the Oak?’ Hunter asks.

She pretends to think about it. ‘Well, okay then. Just allow me to change into something more comfortable.’

‘Yeah me too,’ Sy says. ‘We’ll meet you in an hour, okay?’

‘An hour, seriously?’ Max shakes his head. ‘You two are disgusting.’

Sy shrugs. ‘You’re jumping to conclusions, Max. That’s your own fault. Okay, baby, let’s go inside. We don’t want to keep the guys waiting.’ While his friends pretend to puke, he pulls Rose inside the house and closes the front door behind him. Knowing the day they’ll have tomorrow, he quickly says: ‘We don’t have to do any of that, it’s just that I wanted to piss them off.’

Rose starts to laugh. ‘You’re such a mean friend.’

‘Pay back for when they messed with me when we were younger.’ He gives her a kiss on her forehead, her nose and her lips. ‘You want to shower first or can I?’

She tilts her head. ‘How about you and I go together?’

✨This was the end of it all started in San Antonio. I hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think ✨