#Captain Syverson fan fic

[missacidburn928]

Feeling extra gothic and spooky. Might mess around and finally work on this beauty.

Fantasy/Little Red Riding Hood/ABO AU 

Our Alphas: Jax Teller, Dean Winchester, Captain Syverson, Ari Levinson, Bucky Barnes

Our Little Red Omega "Selene/Red": Omega Fae with powerful sex magic who's scent lures the strongest Alpha's from all around to test their might and virility. Light hazel eyes in shades of green and amber. Full pouty lips. Thicc and curvy. Built to be every wolf’s desire. Made to be bred. Has an unquenchable lust for the taste of Alpha blood on her tongue and her mark on their flesh. 

Summary:

Their sweet words fall like bittersweet honey. Lacing pain and menace under a sugary facade. Coating everything. Sticky, sweet and unthreatening. All earth and warmth. The best disguise for unsuspecting beings, with open hearts and damaged souls.

A succulent entree for her sharp teeth to feast upon. For she is made of moonlight and fang. All charm and soulful eyes. While hiding an all encompassing darkness inside. 

Sinful lips with a deadly tongue. Patiently waiting for her prey to become safe and lucid. Drunk off of her words and lingering touch.

When their red hoods fall, exposing the softness of their throats. Her eyes become bigger, as her hunger and lust for flesh grows. Just one bite and she'll change your life.

My, oh my.

What big fangs you have my dear.

🐺

[marveldcmistress]

Henry Cavill’s Characters’ Zodiac Signs

This is (in my opinion) the zodiac vibes I get from each Henry Cavill character. I am not an astrologist, this is just based off my observations of each sign and the energy I get from these characters. If there’s a character I missed or you wanted to see on this list, let me know!!!!

So it’s basically canon that Sy is a bull, and understandable. He gives HELLA Taurus energy. He’s strong, sturdy, a little cocky, but only because he can back up all the hype. He can be stubborn as all hell, which is to be expect from the bullheaded Taurus (my brother was born in May and the boy will never budge in a fight). Negotiations during deployments is hell for his fellow comrades. And just like the grounded earth sign it takes awhile for him to soften up, but when he does, he would do ANYTHING for those he cares about, and that passion can be overwhelming to some. He’s a hard worker, but when he’s not overseas he’s DEFINITELY take some leisure time to himself, he deserves to be lazy! And don’t get started on a Taurus’ appetite. Just like the bull, I see Sy as a grazing type, munching on little snacks throughout the day, but will not hesitate to tear it up at dinner time, and his desert ;)

August is a Scorpio. I feel like this doesn’t need an explanation, but I’m gonna give you one anyway. As a CIA Agent/Terrorist, the man can’t trust anyone. Ever. Just like how a Scorpio takes forever to trust, he makes sure to know every detail about anyone he encounters. Scorpios also shroud themselves in mystery and secrecy. He’s proved time and again in the movie that he would kill to keep his secret diabolical plan from getting out. And it’s also cannon on tumblr that he’s obsessive. God help you if a Scorpio catches a liking to you, cause once they do, you are theirs FOREVER, whether you like it or not. Oh, and don’t even THINK about trying to have the control around August, it’s just not gonna happen. 

Charles is a Leo, through and through. Those who meet him think he’s arrogant, self-centered, and in those first couple seasons, they were right. He’s definitely full of himself, but we do get to see little peeks at the insecurity he feels deep down at being born lower class. Leos are very insecure, though they try to hide it (trust me, all of our confidence is fake, coming from a Leo herself), but the way his face falls when his title (or lack of) is brought up in the first season, not to mention in the later seasons when he starts to contemplate his own actions and morals after doing what he did on Henry’s orders. Now, I know what some might say, “but Tay, Leos are so loyal!” And they are! His infidelity to Margaret was born of his own ego and arrogance. But his loyalty to HENRY?? After all the bullshit he put Charles through? Only a Leo could have a heart so big as to still love and advise a friend who treated them so. And the way he lights up a room! Much like the sun, Leo’s ruling planet, Charles lit up court. He always looks good, outfits pristine and his hair always so perfectly groomed. I can go on forever, but Imma stop here. 

Walter just ooooozes Virgo energy. Work-aholic, perfectionist, never relaxes. Sometimes a little blunt, but only because they don’t have time to sugarcoat shit. But also like the earth sign, he’s consistent. You can always trust he will do the right thing and be there at the right time. Can also smell bullshit from a mile away, which is a wonderful skill set for his job. I also feel like he’s really good at budgeting and money management. 

Mikey is a Sagittarius, there’s no changing my mind. His wild and care-free personality really shines through in the movie. And just like Walter he’s blunt. “He’s dead Chelsea, time move on.” Only a Sagg has the audacity! And the entire movie all he is concerned with is having a good time and hooking up. In my limited interactions with Sagittarius men, that’s really all they cared about. I feel like if he wasn’t killed off in the movie, he could have definitely evolved into a more defined character. 

Geralt just gives Capricorn energy. So focused on his work, and very stoic in his emotions. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel them, he just buries them, deep, deep, DEEP down. And just like Scorpio it takes ALOT for him to open up. But when he does, BOYYYY. Fuck with the people he loves. I’ve also never met a Cap that isn’t determined to do EVERYTHING on their own (my sister is the best example. Full time vet student on top of two full time jobs, constantly refusing help when offered). He’s definitely an over-thinker. He stays up at night thinking through every scenario and preparing for any situation. But he’s sturdy and strong and loyal, if a little abrupt and abrasive at times. Hates people and gets along so much better with animals, and again, I’ve never met a Capricorn who like human beings over dogs, or in his case, Roach. 

Sherlock is an Aquarius. It just makes the most sense to me. Not good with emotions at all, and this is coming from experience of having an Aquarius mother and dating an Aquarius man for three months. He’s an intellectual, and individual, and values that individuality. Not to mention the job that is very outside of the social norms. Aquarians are uninterested in being like the rest, which is a perfect description for Sherlock. Also doesn’t miss a single detail, can pick up on the slightest change in energy. Most people see Aquarius as strange, almost alien-like, and Sherlock for sure stands out. He values his solitude and alone time. I feel like if he were to be in modern times, would hella ghost someone if he felt like they were getting to close and encroaching on his privacy. 

Clark Kent. My sweet baby, my Kansas farm boy. He’s a Libra, absolutely. His sense of justice and constant battle for balance wouldn’t allow him to be anything else. His need to use his powers for good to save people shines just as bright as the sunlight he gets his strength from is sometimes overshadowed by his darker side of just finally snapping and becoming the GOD he knows he is. And have you ever seen a pissed off Libra? Those red eyes are not just for show. Momma Kent did a good job of raising our boy to be a good-hearted man, but that Kryptonian blood will not relent so easily. But he loves deeply and won’t hesitate to make decisions when it comes to those he loves. Making sure they are well and safe and happy is not something he has to make a pros and cons list for. 

I know I’ve made a post saying I think Napoleon is a Leo, and I still kinda feel that way. But I can also see him being a Gemini. Now the big stereotype surrounding Geminis is that they’re two-faced. But in reality they’re a mirror. The energy you give them is the energy you are gonna receive. Being a spy, he has to learn to be a chameleon, he changes with every environment but can also blend in and be unseen. He’s only loyal to the CIA because he has to be, you can bet your lucky stars when those chains are gone he can flip the script on them in a heartbeat. But also like a typical Gemini he’s charming, knows exactly how attractive he is and uses that to his full advantage.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad.  You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…” 

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?” 

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'. 

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

[hg-library]

Just putting it out there, I’ll be not normal with you about August Walker. I only watched the film to see him lol.

Also I’m super extra not normal about Captain Syverson 👀 He’s my fav HC character.

Yessss. I need more Henry Cavill character fans because this man has me feeling some type of way.

I know August Walker is questionable but he's very attractive. 😅@mermaidxatxheart and I have been tossing around a questionable fic idea with him and a nurse!reader.

As for Captain Syverson??? MY LORD.

I am so NOT normal about him. He gives off a cuddly teddy bear that could and would murder a man for disrespecting a lady. I have so many HC and thoughts about this man, especially since @writercole shared her thoughts on him recently. I just know he loves a plus size girl and enjoys spending hours between a woman's thighs.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

2023 Character Wrapped

@geralts-yenn and @raccoon-eyed-rebel tagged me to talk about my favorite characters. And well, this is just too good not to pass up. So, join me, won't you?

Let's rank my favorite characters! (Based on # of times I have written them).

Under the cut to keep my ramblings off your dashboard...but you just know there are bunch of Henry Cavill-shaped bitches under this cut.

But, in what order??

Alright, let's get this party started with...

Walter Marshall - Night Hunter

I feel like this is absolutely no surprise that I've written the most for this grumpy bear. But, I just call him Daddy. Whether he be touch-starved, an enemy turned lover, falling in love like a love-sick puppy, taking a little "me time" for himself, or being the goodest boy as werewolf Wolfie. Even wrote a headcanon about his hobbies.

2. Clark Kent - Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League

I have loved the character of Clark Kent since I was a little thing, I'm obsessed with curly-haired nerds. Clark also is the only character I have written "fluff" for, be it praising what you think are flaws or surprising you for your birthday. I have written him as a Sub and as a Dom (in my only work that has surpassed 1k notes).

3. August Walker - Mission: Impossible - Fallout

I've never written August as the good guy, and there is a reason for that. In my head, he's the life-ruiner. He can be sweet (to you), but odds are he just killed a guy because the guy looked at you for longer than a second. I've written August as a pissed-off Dom who was sick of being interrupted, a very bad Daddy, and an Uncle who takes advantage of his nephew's girlfriend here(original) and here(director's cut).

4. Captain Syverson - Sand Castle

Oh, Syverson. My baby don't even got a dayum first name and he's popular. I've written him confronting a lover during a post-apocalyptic pregnancy realization, and as a married father-to be getting his beard trimmed and talking to his unborn daughter. He's also featured in my Werewolf!Walter Marshall story, and that's all I'll say about that. (Also, I've been referring to him as James Syverson in every iteration of the character that I have written for - I think.)

5. Mike - Hellraiser: Hellworld

My sweet baby boy. He is a guilty pleasure. I gave him a full series where he finds love and has quite the cast of characters as his family. But, technically, I only wrote the series because of what happened here and here, when his naughty Uncle slept with his girlfriend.

6. Napoleon Solo - The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

He's just so fucking sexy. I love him, your honor. He's been a suave and sexy older man wooing a young student over a good meal, and also started a series where he was falling hard for a woman in his apartment building (still in the early stages and I promise @deandoesthingstome that I will get back to this series).

7. Sherlock Holmes - Enola Holmes series

I have also loved Sherlock Holmes since I was a little kid. I thought he was the coolest person ever, but he's a curly-haired nerd so of course I loved him. I love when Sherlock is in love, whether he is ignoring his bratty wife until he takes matters into his own hands, or if he is having trouble coming to terms with new love.

8. Charles Brandon - The Tudors

This little shit. This redeeemable, sexy, fucking slut. I love him. I've only written him once, and it was a request! But, I enjoyed it. I loved writing him getting teased sexually and then taking control of the situation. So hot.

9. Humphrey - Stardust

Ok, not actually a fan of Humphrey, I've just written him. And that was all thanks to @sillyrabbit81's milestone celebration at the beginning of this year. This fic is kind of a weird egg, just, go with me though. The plot is: you and Humphrey are step-siblings who end up getting a little...involved. I'm not sorry for the title of this fic.

And to our last entry, the only non-HC character...

10. Lloyd Hansen - The Gray Man

What can I say? If I had the means, and I guess I really do but whatever, I would rank this man at #2 above Clark Kent. Because Lloyd-excuse me...Sir is one of my all-time favorites. I've included him inside larger stories as a bit player, see Bright Like the Moon (where he plays a bad man later in the series). But, I also wanted him to have his own show where he was the star, so I had him stalk and kidnap a girl and tie her up in the basement and call her Sunshine. I also wrote a little headcanon about his family, quirks, hobbies and his sleeping habits.

TL;DR: Walter Marshall is Daddy, Lloyd Hansen is Sir. And I need to finish one series before starting another. Maybe I will work on that. *snort*

I have written for a lot of characters, and I'm not gonna stop. I really wanna write so much more and my WIP folder is literally overflowing with things. I just started a new fic like the day I posted the most recent chapter of THiCC. What am I doing??

No pressure tags: @cardierreh15 @milknhonies @halfofmysoulsblog @xblackreader @xsapphirescrollsx

[deandoesthingstome]

Hey - o!!!

Y’all, I’ve seen a fair number of new followers at this account recently and just thought I’d say Hi and give a little background/update so you have an idea of what you’ve gotten yourselves into.

Today, this is a Henry Cavill appreciation/writing blog, but it wasn’t always so.

In the before times, I wrote and read fanfiction for a little show called Supernatural. You may have heard of it. Dean Winchester was my main muse. I lived and laughed and loved with a whole crew of amazing fans and writers, and thus, my burning desire for fandom community and interaction was born.

I lost my muse. Tumblr purged (again?) I lurked in the background and waited for a sign. That sign came in the form of a Henry Cavill/Captain Syverson fic rec from one of my mutuals.

Around the same time I fell hard for Finan/Mark Rowley from The Last Kingdom and through the eyes of another old SPN mutual, I found a wee bit of inspiration to write again.

One day, after months of feasting on amazing fic showcasing any number of Henry’s varied characters, I could no longer be satisfied just reading. Dog Trainer!Sy was born. I got an idea for Walter. And August.

I have no idea how long this gravy train will last. I’ll hopefully continue to reblog pretty pictures of Henry in all his glory, along with an occasional foray back to Dean/Jensen, and maybe some other really attractive people along the way. 

I also like to reblog rando shit as well. Be warned. 

I am a liberal. I am accepting of all kinds, though I do not tolerate hate. I am an 18+ blog. I will block a bot. Even if you just look like one. I’m just not up for it.

But at the end of the day, I crave connection. So feel free to chat me any time. I love to talk. (Can you tell?)

Welcome!

[gummydummy19]

fan-art masterlist

Bucky Barnes x female partner

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (1)

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (2) (based on this fic by @sidepartskinnyjeans)

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (3)

Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (4)

Captain Syverson x reader (1)

Captain Syverson x reader (2)

[rmtndew]

Love Me Tender

Summary: You and Sy both deal with nightmares. 

Pairing: Sy and reader

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, PTSD, Sy’s time in the army. 

Word Count: 1,348

A/N: This is for my darling @offroadinjandals​! Happy (early) Christmas, Mrs. Syverson! I hope you enjoy your story! 💜

You woke sweating and gasping. Instinctively you reached out for your security blanket but he wasn’t there. Your hand felt where he should have been and it was cold. The time on the clock told you that his nightmares must’ve come earlier in the night; as if the darkness was taking shifts with you both. 

You padded through the house quietly, looking for him. He was in the kitchen. His back was to you and hunched slightly. You saw the box on the table beside him and knew he was looking at pictures again. The ones from his time in the military. His nightmare must have been about losing one of his men. That was the only time he took the pictures out. 

“Sy?” you called to him quietly. You knew by then that sneaking up on him wasn’t a good idea. Even though he was wide awake, his mind was still being held captive by the images that had chased him from the bed. You knew too well how those thoughts could cling to your mind, weaving in the past with the present, confusing you. 

He looked over his shoulder at you. “Did I wake you up?” he asked. You shook your head. He turned back and you could see him shuffling the photos together before placing them in the box. Hidden away, he turned his chair and waved you over. “Come here, bub.” 

You bit your lip. “Are you sure? I mean, you must’ve…”

It was his turn to shake his head. “No. It wasn’t as bad as usual. I just couldn’t go back to sleep,” he said. “Now come on. Let me love on you.” 

The moment you were in arms reach of Sy, he pulled you to him, putting you on his lap. His warm arms enveloped you as you rested your head on his chest. He kissed your temple, his coarse beard rubbing against your skin. You took comfort in it and closed your eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. 

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

At the beginning of your relationship with Sy, you had tried to keep your nightmares a secret from him. It was difficult, especially because you both fell for each other hard and after only a few weeks, you were inseparable. Spending every night together meant you learned each other’s sleeping habits quickly. He knew you battled with insomnia and it touched your heart every time he came to you with a new idea for something that might help. They never did but it didn’t stop him from researching it on his own and trying his best. But the nightmares were different. 

He told you early on about his. He explained his PTSD from his time in the army and told you that he’d never lashed out in his sleep, that you were safe, but he occasionally woke screaming. He didn’t want to scare you but you needed to know because it was bound to happen. You were awake the first time it did. Insomnia had reached its suffocating claws into your brain, refusing to let you sleep. You could tell he was having a nightmare by the way his breathing changed, how he began to move restlessly. He was mumbling, his voice panicked. You prepared yourself as you reached out to wake him. But when he woke, there was no shout. The almost instant sobbing that wracked his body was more violent than any reaction you’d ever seen from him. He was so much bigger than you, but you did your best to bring him to you to comfort him. Nothing could be said - not that it could have been heard if you had spoken - so you tried to soothe him with touches. Reassuring him you were there. He gave in, burying his face in your chest and clutching to you like a scared little boy. 

The next morning, he didn’t apologize. Not that you thought he needed to but you expected he would for being so emotional. Instead, he confided in you what he’d seen and thanked you for being there. His trust in you and his willingness to be vulnerable spoke to your heart more than any romantic gesture ever could. You returned the favor by confiding in him about your own nightmares. You were surprised when he said he knew. He’d been awake a few times that you’d had them but instead of waking you, he tried to ease your agitation and fear. He admitted that he would rub your back and sing to you until you settled down. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” you’d asked. 

He’d shrugged. “I figured you weren’t ready to talk about it. I wasn’t going to push you.”

You assured him that wasn’t it. You knew you could tell him anything. So when he asked what it was keeping you from telling him, you admitted that you felt guilty because you didn’t think it stacked up against his experience in a war. As kindly and firmly as he could, he told you that what you had endured wasn’t meant to stack up against his. There was no competition. But whatever you were going through, he was going to go through it with you. Side by side. So you told him and he listened. When you were through, instead of running away or giving you a smothering sense of pity, he shared with you what he’d learned about dealing with his own demons. 

That was the day you first told him you loved him. He grinned, looking the happiest man alive, and told you that he loved you, too. 

And there you were, two years later, married to your best friend. It hadn’t all been easy, but regardless of what had come your way, your love for each other had only grown. It also helped that you were both stubborn as could be and had dug your heels in, refusing to let anything destroy your relationship. You protected it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Because it was. 

Sy’s hand rubbed your lower back as he began rocking you almost absentmindedly. Your hand went to his chest, your fingers tangling in his chest hair. He nuzzled his nose at your forehead before kissing it. “What do you want to do, bub? Go back to bed and cuddle ‘til the sun comes up, or just go ahead and put some coffee on?”

You looked up at him. “Can we have both? Cuddle in bed with coffee?” 

He smiled, making the laugh lines around his eyes crease. “I like how you think, darlin’. Let’s do that.” 

You stayed with Sy while the coffee brewed, then, with drink in hand, you went back to bed. Sy tucked you against his side, wrapping his arm around you to hold you close. 

As the sun rose, breaking up the blues and grays of night that had filled your room, chasing it away with warmth and the promise of a beautiful day, Sy told you about his nightmare. Like you suspected, it was about one of his men that he’d lost. It never mattered how far he was from the desert, he carried everything that had happened there with him. 

You turned and pressed a kiss to his chest, over his heart, and he held you to him, giving you a kiss of your own on the top of your head. You closed your eyes and stayed just as you were as you confided in him about your own nightmare. When you were done, he took your coffee mug from you and sat it on the night table next to his, then lifted you up, placing you on the bed between his legs. He pulled the blankets over you both before wrapping you up in his arms. 

“You’re one tough little cookie, you know that, bub? Strongest person I know.”

“I’m tired of being strong, Sy,” you whispered. 

“I know, baby.” He kissed your head again. “So be soft and I’ll be strong for you, alright?”

[missacidburn928]

All Aboard The Friday Fantasy Train

Chapter 5 of It's Hard For Me To Say... is now live on ao3!

Click the link above to enjoy.

As Always,

Happy Reading Heathens!

[zealoushound]

Dreams

Summary: After having several nightmares you just wanted to be cuddled.

Pairing: reader (gender non-specific) x open male partner

Word Count: 553

Warnings: nightmares, fear of intimacy/commitment? (I guess, if you squint), angst

A/N: Based on my dreams last night and the desire to have someone hold me and make them go away. This is an “insert character here” type of drabble. This could be literally any character, any fandom so insert your own dream guy and enjoy.

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.

***

It wasn’t so much falling asleep that troubled me; it was what I’d find once I crossed the veil.

The nightmares that plagued my sleep tonight were not a common, nor welcome visitor. Yet every time I closed my eyes something new and terrifying awaited me.

Falling into an endless sea of darkness where little nasties reached out their crooked hands to pull and grab at whatever came near.

Next came the faceless creature that lurked behind unknowing loved ones as I sat in horror, trying to warn them to no avail. Unable to look away, paralyzed by fear.

Each time I would wake I would try to do something, anything, to chase the demons away.

I tried rolling over, getting some water; clearing my mind. No.

I tried walking to the bathroom. Surely that would wake me enough to start fresh. No.

Finally, I awoke the third time with a jolt. My brows furrowed with discomfort, lips parted in a silent scream. A part of me desperately tries to cling to reality while the other pulls me toward the nightmare that I have since forgotten. I gasp when the part clinging to this side of awareness wins out.

That’s when I felt... him. I had tried not to wake him. It’s difficult not to when you’re sharing a bed with someone. The first couple of times were different but I must have shaken the bed when I woke up this time.

I was afraid of his reaction. I’d only spent the night with him a few times in our budding relationship. In the past men had ignored me completely or asked me to get up. I feared a repeat.

He rolled to face my back. He propped his head up on his hand.

“Are you ok?” His other large, warm hand rested on my hip as the tears sprang to my eyes.

“Um..” was all I could muster.

“You’ve had quite a difficult night haven’t you, darling?”

I nod, refusing to face him while the tears silently fall onto my pillow. I just wanted to sleep with him. Not in the carnal way, but in the way that makes you feel safe and whole. I had never had that with anyone. Why did I let myself feel this would be any different?

“May I hold you?”

I couldn’t help the sudden gasp that escaped my parted lips. It was all I’d wanted and he was willing. I allowed Joy to play at my heartstrings. Sure, it could be a mistake, but what’s one more mistake to a heart that’s being bound together with super glue and duct tape?

The lump in my throat wouldn’t allow words to pass so I nodded my response instead. His huge frame pressed against mine immediately, cradling me in protection.

I felt warm.

I felt safe.

His body was perfectly flush against mine. His heavy arm draped across my body; his hand seeking mine. Finding it, he held tightly to it. Kissing my neck gently he began to play with my fingers making me giggle softly.

Joy swayed in my heart with delight. Maybe this one is it? Maybe this one won’t hurt us?

Maybe, Joy… maybe. I drifted into a peaceful slumber, safe and warm in his strong embrace before any other thoughts could chime in.

***

[its--fandom--darling]

Santa Claus is Coming to Town

MERRY CAVILLMAS! This fic is for @cavillsthighs​ #cavillmas celebration. My prompt was for Day 14: “On Santa’s Lap” and this will have a spicy little follow up in a few more days! Enjoy!

word count: 1132, rating: PG-13, they get a little naughty and a little nice. warning: Santa!Sy, sexy talk

dividers by: @firefly-graphics​

You bit your lip gently as you approached your husband with the Santa costume. “Oh Sy?” you sing song softly.

              He looks over his shoulder, “Yeah, Bug?”

“Remember how I said that it’d be fun if you dressed up as Santa this year for Leigh and Jamie after you did it for the fire station’s toy drive?”

              He stands up, “Not really?”

“Well, I got you your own costume…” you murmur softly, holding up the bag.

              “Bug, you’re serious?”

You nod, “Yes, Wyatt. They’re still young enough to believe and it’d be so cute for them to catch a glimpse of Santa and you were so good with the kids at the fire station. So convincing that your own kids didn’t recognize you and you made so many kids days, just by letting them sit on your lap.”

              He chuckles, “How did you feel about sharing?”

You grin, “I didn’t like it but it was for a good cause.”

              “Fine, but you know that I only did it because the other guy quit and I was a last resort.”

You shrug, “I know but I just think that it’d be really nice to do this while the kids still believe.”

              Sy huffs, “I already eat the cookies AND the carrots, why do I need a silly costume?”

You grin. “Because I’ve got a costume too, handsome and if Santa Claus comes tonight then he’ll also be cumming tonight. Mrs. Claus will make sure of it,” you promise with a wink.

              He groans, “Bug, you drive a hard bargain.”

You smirk, “I know, baby, but who knows how much longer we have to sprinkle this kind of magic in the kids lives, they are growing up so fast.”

              Sy runs a hand over his hand, “That’s true. Jamie is growing like a weed. Can’t believe he’s already in his big boy bed.”

You smile and kiss him, “I know, but he takes after his daddy.”

              He chases your lips when you pull away.

“Uh, uh, there’ll be more where that came from after you hold up your end of the bargain, Mr. Claus.”

              He groans, “You’re killing me.”

You laugh and peck his cheek, “It’ll be worth it I promise.”

              Midnight rolls around and you slip into your new set in the bathroom, wrapping your Christmas themed bathrobe around you before heading into the bedroom and biting your lip at the sight of your burly, ex military man bedecked in him red velvet and fur trimming.

              He looks up at you, “Don’t laugh, bug.”

“I’m not laughing, I promise. You look very handsome.”

              He groans, “You haven’t seen the worst part yet.” You hold your breathe as he reaches for the acrylic beard and straps it on his face, before tugging the hat on.

You can’t help the small giggle that bubbles out of your lips.

              He frowns, “Bug, you promised.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it but I think it’s very sexy you are willing to do this for our babies.”

              He scratches at the fake beard, taking in your form in. “How sexy.”

You strut over to him, “Very, very sexy. So sexy, that I’ll give you a little sneak peak.” You wiggle the neckline of the robe apart so Sy can catch a glimpse of red fabric tied in a bow around your bosom.

              His eyes darking slightly, “Mrs. Syverson, you are gonna spoil me.”

You smirk, “Daddy, it’s Mrs. Claus tonight.”

              He bites his lip and then, stands up. “Alright, I’ll go get this is little farce over with and come back for my Christmas gift.”

“Good boy,” you murmur, tugging your robe closed once more.

              Sy grabs the bag of stocking stuffers you’d wrapped earlier during your yearly Love Actually rewatch and shoulder it.

“Wait!” you hiss, reaching towards the throw pillow on your bed. “You look too fit! Come here.”

              He sighs and walks over to you, sulking slightly. You undo the thick black faux leather belt at this waists and let his jacket fall open to reveal his slightly softer around the edges middle and allow yourself to ogle your very sexy husband for a moment before pressing the throw pillow against his abs and fixing his jacket once more.

“There! you look perfect.”

              He huffs, “Sure.”

You reach up and cup his snow white bearded cheeks, “You look amazing. Thank you for indulging me, thank you for doing this for the kids. I won the husband lottery.”

              His eyes soften, “I love you, Bug.”

You smile up at up, “I love you too, Sy. So much. More and more every day.”

              He presses a tickling kiss to your lips before he grabs the bag once more. “Gotta complete the mission.”

              He shoulders the bag once more and tiptoes down the stairs, you go down the hall and open the doors to kids room enough to play the sounds of bells before the thud of “Santa” landing on the roof. You hear Leigh gasp and her blankets rustle. You sneak back to your room and turn the lights off, sitting in front of the door you left cracked open to watch the kids. You hear the patter of Leigh’s little feet as she slips out of her room and into Jamie’s. Soon enough she reappears dragging a bleary eyed toddler behind her.

              “Come on, Jamie, I heard him!” she murmurs, in hushed excitement. She leads her brother to the decorated banister, where they kneel to watch “Santa” fill their stockings, munch the cookies and pocket the carrots for the “reindeer”.

              Jamie watches with big eyes and calls out “Santa” causing leigh to freeze. Sy plays along and looks up, winking at the kids before pointing to their beds. Leigh nods once, eyes round as she grabs Jamie.

              “We gotta get back in bed!” she orders, tugging her brother to his feet and pulling him down the hall. They both rush into their rooms, their doors slamming as if to prove that the are in bed once more. Sy gives his best “ho ho ho” before munching on the carrots and tiptoeing back up the stairs and into the bedroom.

              He closes the door gently behind him and clicks the lock before he tugs of the hat and beard. “So how I do, mama?”

You smile at him, “You were perfect.”

              He grins at you wickedly taking a seat in bedside chair, “Now Mrs. Claus, why don’t you come sit on Santa’s lap and tell me just how good you’ve been this year.

You giggle as he pats his thick thigh temptingly, “Only if I get his package for a present.”

              He grins, “I think that could be arranged.”

“Well then, ho, ho, ho. Mr. Claus,” You murmur, dropping your robe to reveal his treat.

Taglist:  @angryschnauzer @avantgardium-leviosa @asylummara @angryburrito @brandycranby @beastlywritings @beck07990 @cavillsthighs@cavillsim @cavillsbestgal @cavillanche @cavilladdict @christhickevans @cynic-spirit @cruelfvkingsummer @connieisland @devterra @eldarwen333 @fuckoffbard @foodieforthoughts @feralrunaway @gearhead66 @geralt-of-baevia @hope-to-hell @henryobsessed @hail-horror-queen @hell1129-blog @inlovewithhisblueeyes  @persephone-is-here-omg @iloveyouyen @ketterdamclub @khadineberry @kmuir1 @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @luna-aestas @littlefreya @littlewrenofrivia @lawfulgranola @lookinsidemyhead @maizyistrash @mary-ann84 @mindingmyownbusiness @nuggsmum @natthebattygeologist @ohmygoodie @oh-for-fic-sake @oddsnendsfanfics @persephone-is-here-omg@poledancingdinos @palaiasaurus64 @quantumcheese @radaofrivia @salimahbicharara-comun @shadyskit @sillyrabbit81 @sif-the-tsunami @summersong69 @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @trappedbetweentwo @trinitylovexox @viking-raider @winchestersister55 @winchwm @princesssterek @zealoushound​ @titty-teetee​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You’re shown to a room of your own. It’s a luxury in your line of work. You often share the back of the truck or some cramped space with your boss. You look forward to a night without Syverson’s rumbling snores. 

As you remove your harness and vest, a knock thumps on the door. You answer and find a man with a pile of fabric in his hands. He gives it to you without a word and leaves, a rifle across his back. You frown and shut the door. 

The accommodations are acceptable. There’s a bed, a side table, and a fan. Nothing fancy but better than a cot or a car seat. Or your favourite, the ground. 

You hold up the patterned swath of silk and let it unfold. The long caftan is cool and sheer. It might not be your usual attire but it’s preferable to your dusty cargo pants and sweaty cotton shirt. You shake out your clothes as you undress then throw the swishy fabric over your head. You feel almost human. 

Another pounding comes at the door. You hear a snort as you approach and know before you answer it, who it is. Sy waits on the outside. He wears the same thing he showed up in; dirty cargo and camo. He blinks at you dumbly and grimaces. 

“What the hell is that?” He flicks a thick finger at you. 

“What?” 

“What’re you wearing, Iz? You look like my mammy.” 

“Shut up,” you jab him and turn back. You push your feet into your boots and tramp back to him. He chuckles at the clomp of the heavy soles. 

“Naw, I mean it, Iz, you pack that get-up or what?” 

“No, it was... given to me. I don’t know.” You cross your arms and look down with a shrug. “I thought... Well, it seemed nice.” You look up and narrow your eyes. “Wait, why’re you bothering me anyway?” 

“Hungry, ain’t ya?” He scoffs. 

“Sure.” 

“So come on, I’ll show ya the mess.” 

You cluck and step out into the hall. After settling from the jump, your stomach has turned ravenous. You wish you were at Retro’s, gnawing at hot wings and downing martinis. Alas, you have work. Well, you’ve had worse than this. 

“Thank,” you grumble. 

He’s quiet as you walk through the halls. Others pass or follow in your stead. He toys with a flap on one of his many pockets. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Mm? Oh, yeah. Kinda.” 

“Get that adrenaline kickin’ and you sleep like a black bear in winter.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” you chuckle. “Maybe you though. You’re pretty good at it.” 

“Good at what?”  

“Sleeping through the b—chaos,” you keep yourself from swearing. 

“Ah, I guess. Not much of a skill.” 

You shrug. He can be awkward sometimes. Mostly when he talks. When you first started, he didn’t say too much, now he tends to force himself too. 

“Here we are.” He points you to a door. 

You peer down the hall and step out of the way of the men in civvies milling around. Sy opens the door without knocking and nudges your lower back to urge you inside. You stumble in as a figure stands to greet you. Conrad smiles and tilts his head. 

“I don’t like to presume things about you Americans but it is rather uncourteous not to knock,” he reproaches. 

“Eh,” Sy grunts. 

“Then again, it is you,” Conrad snickers back. He moves around the table in front of him. There’s a bottle of wine and glasses, a few cans of beer, and food that isn’t served in tin or vacuum seal. “And you, I do hope the attire suffices. It was all I could scrounge, I regret.” 

“Uhhh, it’s good. Er, pretty.” You look down and touch the silk. 

“Feel free to take it with you. That colour is immaculate on you.” 

“Ha, er, thanks.” 

Sy marches forward and claims a seat with a huff. He shows no patience as he reaches for the dish of seasoned chicken. You come forward and Conrad rounds the table to pull out another chair. You thank him as you sit and your brutish boss glances over at the gesture. 

“Shiraz? Does that suit you?” Conrad grabs the bottle wine and a glass. 

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. 

“Yes, but I hate to leave a women disappointed,” he winks and pours you a glass. 

“What’s in here?” Sy interrupts as he holds up a bowl. 

“Olive? Rosemary, bit of red vinegar. How about a brew, eh?” He grabs a can and offers it. 

“I’ll have what she’s havin’,” Sy insists through a mouthful. 

“You may help yourself. As you have done.” Conrad clunks down the bottle between your and Sy’s plates. 

He sits and offers to serve you before he does himself. You don’t mind the attention though it does strike you as a bit overdone. You have an extra scoop of curry as the aroma drives you mad. 

Conrad watches as you taste the wine and Sy slurps from his own glass. Your boss tuts and puts it down heavily. He scrapes his plate loudly with his fork as you only just start to poke at your own fare. The other man is uninterested in the meal as he stares you down. 

“Please, you must tell me, how did you end up here at my table?” Conrad purrs. 

You chew slowly and look over at Sy. He narrows his eyes and shovels more food into his mouth, a dribble catching in his beard. You stir the rice with your fork. 

“I applied on a job board and interviewed and--” 

“Ah, that sounds rather proper. Syverson, I thought you more the type to snatch up beautiful women.” 

“Hm?” Sy grunts around a mouthful. 

“And yet, a creature like this should be cozened. To have her jumping from planes? Tsk tsk. Oh, don’t tell me he’s had you living on beans and sleeping in dirt.” 

“Her job...” Sy sneers over. 

“It’s exciting, actually. My old job was just the same desk, same walls. I couldn’t even get the time off to go parachuting for fun so... not so bad.” 

“Thrill seeker? Mmm, that’s intriguing. Have you ever been rock climbing? Not in a gym but on a real mountain?” 

“You got barbecue sauce?” Sy interjects. 

Conrad laughs again. He stands and goes over to the footlocker against the wall and opens the lid. He pulls out a bottle of a southern brand of sauce. The same you stocked for Sy. Hm. 

“I have to be prepared for anything, not least of all the way you get when you’re hungry.” Conrad struts back and sets the bottle at Sy’s elbow. “I must admit, I wasn’t ready for you, darling.” He sits again and you’re certain there’s a low growl from your other side. No matter the perks, managing men is never simple. 

[rmtndew]

Where Kindness Grows

Summary: The Great Depression took its toll on a lot of people and some had to get creative to survive. Seraphina’s father decides his solution is to sell his only daughter to a much older man. But when Sy overhears a conversation about the young woman, he makes a decision that will change his life - and Seraphina’s - forever. 

(An arranged marriage AU with Captain Syverson) 

Pairing: Sy and OFC Seraphina

Rating: PG 

Warnings: Slight mentions of past parental abuse

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

Thank you to my darling @lilliannaansalla​ for constantly putting up with my bombarding of ideas and helping me pull this one together! 😘

Tag List Round 1 - @hollydaisy23​, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys​, @omgkatinka​, @speakerforthedead0​​, @gearhead66​,  @thethirstyarchive​, @oddsnendsfanfics​, @littlerinoa​, @agniavateira​, @aaescritora​, @justaboringadult​, @beenthroughalot​, @seriouslygoodlookinggents​, @xxxkatxo​, @musicartmayheminmyheart​, @lilliannaansalla​, @dashingcavill, @mariestark​, @summersong69​, @sugarpenchant​, @ruthoakenshield​, @rn7rocks, @feralrunaway​, @mzchievous-blog​, @kmuir1​, @the-space-between-heartbeats, @thereisa8ella​, @madbaddic7ed​, @daddys-littlewhitegirl​, @jaded808​, @risingtripletaurus​, @secretlywriting​, @princesssterek​, @witcherfan​, @the-problem-of-leisure​, @inlovewithhisblueeyes​, @amberangel112​, @eldarwen333​, @mary-ann84​, @legendarywizarddetective​, @vikingsbifrost​, @sanjaaaaaaa​, @mrsshiddleston​, @batgurl1989​, @absolutepie​, @wonderlandfandomkingdom, @elena-myth​, @mis-lil-red​, @stxlemate​, @tuckersgirl​, @excalibur22​, @diegos-butt​, @missredherring​, @coloraturadiva​, @that-chick212​, @momowhoo​, @nothingbettertosay81​, @goatboats​, @radkesgirl83​, @n-st-lg-cb-tch (if you’re crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!)

Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the list!

Every morning since I was thirteen had been the same. Wake up early, make Daddy breakfast, then get started right away on my chores. I’d learned that there were some things I could do a little slower that he wouldn’t complain about and I could have a little bit of time to myself. One of those was washing windows. It became one of my favorite chores because while I was washing them my mind could be faraway. Sometimes I thought about stories Momma had told me as a little girl, my mind adding new parts to them, making them bigger and bigger. Sometimes I thought about the programs I listened to on the radio at night, imagining myself as one of the characters. Sometimes I thought about running away, wondering how far I could really get before Daddy found me. That morning was a runaway morning. 

I was still washing the windows when I heard Daddy’s car. I looked over my shoulder and saw a blue truck following him. I’d never seen the truck before but it wasn’t unlike Daddy to bring home company, so I went back to washing. It wasn’t long before I heard Daddy’s voice hollering for me.

 “Seraphina! Where are you?” he called. 

I dropped my rag into the tin bucket full of dirty, half sudsy water, then wiped my hands on the apron tied around my waist as I walked to the edge of the porch. “I’m right here,” I said, then stopped dead in my tracks. 

Daddy was standing at the bottom of the steps and next to him was a bull of a man. He was taller than Daddy and much, much bigger. He was wearing what looked like his Sunday best, except the shirt didn’t seem to fit and the jacket strained against his arms. His hair was cropped close to his head, almost not there at all. And the thick beard that covered his face worked to hide whatever little bit of his mouth was visible from the stern line he had it set in.

“Don’t be rude. This is Mr. Syverson, come say hello.” 

I walked to the edge of the top step, bringing me closer, but stopped again. “Hello Mr. Syverson,” I said nervously. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.” 

“Seraphina?” He said it like a question so I nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” 

“Will you be staying for dinner?” I asked. “I’d be more than happy to set another place at the table.” 

“No. But I appreciate the offer,” he said, giving me something bordering on a smile. 

“He’s here on business,” Daddy said. 

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Mr. Syverson asked. He sounded none too pleased. I’d never heard anyone challenge Daddy before but that’s exactly what it sounded like he was doing. 

“You have a better term for it?” Daddy asked, standing up tall as if that would somehow make him more imposing. He still looked puny next to his guest. 

Mr. Syverson took an audible breath, as if he was trying to calm himself. “Do you mind if I speak to your daughter alone for a moment?”  

Daddy looked unsure but I pushed myself to step down onto the second step. “We’ll just go over there,” I said, pointing to the fenceline. “You’ll still be able to see us.” 

He nodded but didn’t answer me. Instead, he looked at Mr. Syverson. “Stay in sight.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Mr. Syverson stepped up and offered me his hand to help me down from the last step. I was surprised, not used to chivalry and not expecting it from someone that looked like him. My hand felt tiny in his. It was practically a bear paw. But he took care to hold it gently as he assisted me down. When I was finally standing in front of him, I realized just how big he truly was. If he wanted to, he could snap my neck with one swipe of his hand like a grizzly. I was convinced of it. But he surprised me again with his gentleness as he offered me his arm. 

“I don’t want to get your nice suit dirty,” I said, suddenly quite aware of how I must have looked.

That time he gave me an unmistakable smile. “It’ll come out in the wash. I promise,” he said quietly.

I had to reach up to accept his arm but I did and together the two of us walked to the fence. We stopped, looking out at the field beyond the house. The grass was tall and scorched from the sun and lack of rain. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, why do you want to talk to me if you’re here on business with Daddy?” 

“Because it’s not business to me.” 

“What is it then?” 

He took a breath. “I’m here to ask for your hand in marriage, Miss Seraphina,” he said softly.

“Oh.” 

“I know. You thought you’d be marrying Jud Boswell tomorrow but things changed. Your daddy gave me your hand instead.” He looked down at me. “I know it doesn’t seem like it matters because it’s already been decided for you, but did you want to marry Jud?” 

I shook my head. “He scares me,” I admitted in a whisper. 

“With good reason. He ain’t a good man.”

“What kind of man are you, Mr. Syverson?” 

He looked back out at the field. “I probably ain’t a good one, either, but it ain’t for a lack of trying,” he said. “I don’t live fancy but I can provide you with what you need. My Pa’s farm passed to me when he died, so I work hard but it’s honest. I can’t promise you everything will be fine and dandy ‘cause I don’t know that it will. But I can promise you that I’ll treat you kindly and with respect. I’ll give you a good home. And most importantly, I won’t ever give you a reason to be scared of me.” He looked at me again. “If you’ll have me, that is.” 

“Of course I will. I’m sure you done paid Daddy and I don’t think he’d give you your money back now.”

I saw anger in his eyes. “You know he’s selling you?”

“It was never a secret. He’s threatened it for years. But when things got rough and money got tight, he started looking. That’s how he found Jud. I figure he either made Daddy mad or for some reason you offered him more. I don’t need to know which.” 

He nodded. “I have already paid him. And you do need to know which,” he said. “I don’t want you thinking I’m anything like Jud Boswell.” He turned towards me. “I’ve known Jud for a long time. He grew up around my Pa. He’s cruel as they come. I heard him talking about you at the feed store and I couldn’t stand by knowing he would mistreat you. Ain’t no woman who deserves that but especially not one young as you. You got a whole life ahead of you, you deserve to live it peacefully, not under some cruel man’s thumb until he dies of old age. So, I made your daddy an offer and doubled what Jud paid.”

“But what about you? You’re mighty handsome, certainly you could find a wife that you didn’t have to buy. Don’t you want to marry someone you love?” 

“While I appreciate the compliment, that’s not my lot in life. I thought it was at one point but it didn’t work out and I’ve made my peace with that,” he said. “I’m not losing out on anything by marrying you and since you don’t get to marry for love, either, I figure we’d make a good pair.”

“That’s awfully kind of you but that had to be a lot of money for someone you don’t know, Mr. Syverson. What if you don’t even like me?” 

He smiled at me, making his face look younger. “You seem like a right nice young lady. I think we’ll get along fine. As for the money, don’t worry about it, alright? It’s done and taken care of. The only thing I want you concerned about is packing for tomorrow. But other than that, I don’t want you to worry yourself.” 

“Okay.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small wrapped in brown paper. A piece of twine was tied around it. “Your Pa said yesterday was your birthday, so I brought you a present.”

I looked over my shoulder at the house. Daddy was standing watching us. “He...he might have fibbed a bit about that.”

“You mean you’re not eighteen yet?”

I looked back at him. He was angry again. “No, I am. I’m twenty. But my birthday is in two months, so I’ll be twenty-one soon.” 

A crease formed between his brows. “Why would he lie about that?” 

“He knew that’s what Jud wanted, so that’s what he told him. I guess he thought you’d want the same.”

“He knew an old man would want to marry his daughter if she was a child two days before her wedding?” Anger was seething from him. “If he thought I wanted the same thing, he was wrong.” 

“Please don’t tell him I told you that. He’ll get mad.” 

He took a couple of deep calming breaths. “I won’t,” he assured me. “It’ll be between you and me.” He held out the present again. “I still want you to have this, though. He made the mistake, not you. Now you’ll get two presents this year.”

My cheeks heated. He was being so nice to me and I knew I should have told him that one present was enough but I wasn’t used to getting any at all and I felt selfish, so I let the offer stand. I accepted the one he handed me and opened it. It was a white handkerchief with forget me not flowers embroidered on the corner. I ran my fingers over it. It was soft. 

“This is the prettiest thing I think I ever owned.” I looked up at him. He may have been a bull of a man but he seemed such a gentle one. At least towards me. At least right then. “Thank you, Mr. Syverson.” 

“You’re welcome. And you can call me Sy, if you’d like. Most people do.” 

“I think Daddy might tan my hide if I called you that before we got married, so I might have to start tomorrow. Would that be alright?” 

“He puts his hands on you?” 

“Only to correct me,” I said. “I reckon that’ll be your job now.” 

He shook his head. “No. Once we’re married and you live with me, there ain’t nobody going to lay a hand on you. Not me and especially not him.”

“That’s enough yapping you two! Come on back!” Daddy’s voice yelled, startling me. 

I jumped and Sy put his hand on my shoulder gently. “I know you ain’t got no reason to trust me but I promise you, after tomorrow, things are going to be alright.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

I tucked the present into the pocket of my apron and he offered me his arm again. I took it willingly. He walked me back to the porch and then took my hand, helping me to step up onto the first porch step. He was still so much taller than me, but I could look him in the face a little bit better. 

“Did you two talk about what you needed to talk about?” Daddy asked. 

Sy tucked in his bottom lip for a moment, as if trying to bite it to keep from saying something mean, and took a deep breath. I never knew I could hear frustration in a single breath but I could with his. “Yes, sir. I think everything’s going to be good for tomorrow,” he finally said. 

“Good.” Daddy clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be at the church at four.”

Everything I owned in my twenty years of life fit into two suitcases. I wanted to take a picture of Momma with me, but Daddy wouldn’t part with one, even though he never looked at them. The closest I got to taking her with me was wearing one of her dresses for the wedding. She’d worn it the last Easter Sunday she’d been able to go. When we arrived at the church, Sy was waiting outside. He had on a suit that fit him much better than the one he’d had on the day before and I couldn’t help but think how handsome he was. Daddy walked me over to him but once he handed me off, he turned and started walking back towards his car. 

“Aren’t you coming in the church?” Sy asked him. 

“No. I’ll pack Seraphina’s things in your truck for you so after the ceremony you can go ahead and leave,” Daddy said, waving him off. “Go on.”

Sy had a small bouquet of daisies tied together with a short bit of lace ribbon and he handed them to me. “You look beautiful.”

My cheeks heated. “Thank you.” 

He offered me his arm and together we walked into the church. The ceremony was simple. Just a few short vows for me to love, honor and obey a man I’d only just met, while he vowed to love, protect and cherish someone he’d just bought. Once the vows were complete, he gave me a ring and as he carefully slipped it on my finger, he explained in a whisper that it had been his Ma’s. I was surprised that it fit so perfectly. When the reverend gave him the blessing to kiss me, Sy bent down and kissed my cheek. A mere ten minutes had passed between me entering the church and leaving but my whole life changed in that short time as suddenly I was a wife. 

When we left the church, we found Daddy leaning against Sy’s truck. I was holding onto his arm as he escorted me out and I could feel him tensing up. I knew he was none too happy to see Daddy just standing there. 

“Is it done?” Daddy asked. Sy nodded then Daddy pushed off the truck and clapped Sy on the shoulder. “Well, she’s your problem now,” he said and began to walk off. 

Sy stopped, took a couple of deep breaths, then walked me the rest of the way to the truck. “Wait here.” I knew he was upset but when he glanced over at the bed of his truck, his face turned red. He turned around then and stormed over to Daddy. Dust kicked up in his wake, making him look like a bull on the attack. He grabbed Daddy by the arm and spun him around. “You didn’t come in and see your daughter get married because you had to put her things in my truck but all she had was two suitcases?” he barked, towering over him. “You sold her off like cattle at an auction and didn’t even have the decency to come inside and witness the wedding, then as soon as it’s over, you leave without a word to her?”

“How I handle my daughter ain’t none of your business. You sought me out, remember? I was going to let her marry Jud Boswell.” 

“That man is as cruel as they get, and plain as day about it, too, and all you cared about was money.”

“You think you’re better than me? You’re the one who bought her.” 

Sy put his hand on Daddy’s chest and pushed him up against the car, pinning him in with his body. “That’s right. I did. She’s married to me now. So unless she wants to talk to you, don’t you dare contact her. You put your hands on her, you sold her and you made her lie about her age so some perverted old man would want to marry her. Then when some stranger came through and gave you a better offer, you snatched it up and pushed her out,” he said. “That’s not what a man does and that sure ain’t what a father does.” 

He pushed him again and then left him, coming back to the truck. He opened the door for me, then took my hand and helped me in. As he was going around the back of the truck, Daddy yelled something at him but Sy didn’t respond. He climbed in beside me and started the truck. I watched Daddy disappear in the mirror as we drove off and had a passing thought it might be the last time I saw him. Once I couldn’t see him anymore, I stole a quick look at Sy. He was angry. Even though he wasn’t talking, I could tell.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice shaky. “Daddy isn’t usually like that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize for him. He made his own choices,” he said. “But I shouldn’t have yelled, not in front of you.” He glanced at me. “I don’t want you scared of me.”

“I’m - I’m not.” 

“You sure?” 

I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I chewed my lip for a moment before looking back at him. “Did you mean what you said, though? About Daddy not talking to me?” 

“That’s up to you. I won’t stop you from talking to him if you want.” 

“Is it bad if I don’t want to?” 

He looked at me again. “No, it ain’t bad at all,” he said. “I’m not going to tell you to disrespect him, I don’t believe in that, but you don’t owe him anything just ‘cause he’s your father. He didn’t do his job, so you don’t have to do yours, either.”

We traveled a long while before Sy told me that we were getting close to his farm. I’d never spent that much time alone with a man other than Daddy before. I’d been nervous but he was kind and soft spoken. Closer to how he’d been with me the day before instead of how he’d been when he was yelling outside of the church. 

The sun was going down as he turned onto a long dirt driveway. When his house came into view, I could see the big field across from it and the sun was like a great glowing ball hanging right on the horizon. I’d never seen anything like it. I gasped and Sy looked at me. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, sir. That’s just the prettiest sunset I’ve ever seen.”

He smiled. “It is awfully pretty.”

When we reached the house, I stepped out of the truck and it seemed to me that the whole place came to life in an instant. It was so much greener than at home. I could see cows and horses grazing. I could hear chickens and crickets and frogs. It was hot but there was a breeze blowing through and bringing with it the strong smell of honeysuckles. 

Sy grabbed my suitcases then came and stood beside me. “You think you’ll like it?” 

I looked up at him and nodded. “Yes, sir. I think I will.” 

He smiled at me, making wrinkles around his eyes appear, and for some reason my heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad. But you ain’t gotta call me ‘sir’. You just call me Sy, alright?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“Come on. I’ll show you the house.” 

He led me up the steps of a great big porch where my eyes kept darting to the porch swing. I wondered if I’d ever finish my chores in a house that big to be able to swing on it. Inside was a living room with a fireplace that was much prettier than the one at home, and a kitchen that was prettier and much bigger than ours, too. But the thing I was most excited about was that he had an inside toilet.

“You mean I ain’t gotta go outside at night anymore?” I asked. 

He laughed. “No. Ma hated snakes and spiders, screamed like a banshee when she saw either one, and she made Pa build this after she found a snake in the outhouse when I was a baby.” 

“I don’t like snakes, either.” 

“I’ll just have to protect you from any you come across, how’s that?” he asked. I nodded. “Good. Let me show you the room.” 

He led me to a bedroom that was much smaller than I expected. The walls were pale yellow and the curtains were light blue, and there was a white metal frame bed that I couldn’t imagine us both fitting in. But I didn’t question him. It wasn’t my place to do that. He set my suitcases on the floor by the foot of the bed and turned to me. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can make us dinner.” 

“You don’t… I mean, it’s not fittin’ for a man to cook. Not while he’s got a woman in the house,” I said. “I should be making dinner for you.” 

“Now where did you get a silly idea like that?”

“That’s what Daddy always told me.” 

I could tell he was biting his tongue. Finally he bent his head down to look at me better and said, “Things are going to be different here, alright? I don’t want you to have to lift a finger if you don’t want to.” 

My eyes widened. “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Well, I’m your husband now. You want to make me happy?” he asked.

I nodded. “Of course.”

“Then let me take care of you,” he said. “That’s what a man is supposed to do.” 

I picked nervously at my fingernails. “Would that...would that really make you happy?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Then I’ll try.” 

“Good.” He gave me a big smile. “Now what would you like for dinner?”

“I’m not picky,” I said quietly.

“That may be so but it’s our wedding day and unfortunately there’s not a lot I can do for you to make it special but I can cook. Just name what you want and I’ll do my best to make it for you.”

I chewed my lip. The last thing I wanted was to be a bother to him, especially on our wedding day, but I didn’t ever get asked what I wanted. Not for food, not for anything. 

“I like fried chicken if that’s not too much trouble.” 

He shook his head. “It’s not too much trouble at all,” he said. “Anything else?” 

“Fried green tomatoes?” 

“That sounds like a fine dinner.”

We went back to the kitchen and I sat at his table while he began cooking. I watched him moving around comfortably in a place that was so unfamiliar to me and I think that’s when it started to settle in my mind that it was my new life. I wasn’t going back to Daddy. I was someone’s wife. He was kind and talked to me sweetly as he cooked, but I couldn’t stop the nerves that creeped up my spine and into my brain. Everything was different. Even just sitting there like a knot on a log felt wrong. I’d been taught my whole life that idle hands were the Devil’s tools and it felt sinful.

When Sy finished cooking, he brought our plates to the table then fetched a bottle of milk from the refrigerator. He poured us both big glasses of it, then sat across from me before taking my hand to say the blessing. Strange as it was, I had to admit that I didn’t mind how my hand felt in his. It was nice. And during dinner, he was so good to show interest and ask me questions about my likes and dislikes. I tried to be polite and show my manners and ask the same of him, but I was nervous and worried I might not remember all of his answers. 

After dinner, we walked back to the bedroom and my nerves finally got to me, making my stomach hurt. I wrapped my arms around me as I stood in the center of the room, hoping it would stop it but it didn’t. I had a whole new set of duties to fulfill and some that I was embarrassed to admit that I didn’t understand. I knew there were things I’d been too young for Momma to tell me about before she died, and things that were too indecent for Daddy to tell me himself, but I’d heard murmurings from other girls, older cousins, and I knew there was something more I was meant to do. I just hoped that whatever it was, Sy was patient with me as I figured it out.

“Stomachache?” he asked. 

I shook my head. “I’m just nervous,” I admitted quietly. 

“I don’t want you to be nervous. I’m not as mean as I look, I promise,” he joked.

“I know. You’ve been sweet to me, it’s just…” 

“It’s what?”

I sat on the bed. My hands were shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know there’s something that’s expected of me tonight but I don’t know what,” I said. “All I know is that some girls say it hurts, but -”

In a moment he was kneeling on the floor in front of me. He took my hands in his, holding them steady as they continued to tremble, and shook his head. “Hey, no. Nothing is expected of you tonight. Nothing. You don’t know me and you sure don’t owe me anything just ‘cause we’re married, you hear me? I don’t want you to ever worry about that. You’re safe here. I won’t ever do anything that hurts you. I promise you that.” 

“B-but I’m your wife.” 

“You are my wife. There’s no denying that. And I’m your husband. I made a vow today to protect and cherish you and I meant every word of that, you understand? I know all of this is new to you and it’s going to take some time to get used to it. That’s fine. You take your time settling in and getting comfortable. I’m going to be right here. Okay?” 

I nodded. “Okay.”

A tear ran down my cheek. Sy moved one of his hands to wipe away the tear with his thumb. “Tonight you’re going to get some good rest. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning and if you want, I’ll show you around the farm. If not, you can stay here at the house and do whatever you like,” he said. “We’re gonna take it slow.” He gave my hands a gentle squeeze before standing up. “If you need anything tonight, or if you get spooked from being in a new place, you come get me. I’m at the end of the hall.”

“We’re not sharing a room?” 

He looked surprised that I’d thought that. “No. This is all yours.”

I chewed my lip. “I’ve been scared of this night for a long time. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be with Jud right now and I know he wouldn’t be this kind to me. Whatever is expected of wives normally, he would’ve done taken it from me by now, I know it. He wouldn’t’ve cared about hurting me. I think…I think he might have enjoyed it. And you saved me from him,” I said. “Thank you.”

There was sadness in his bright blue eyes. “You shouldn’t have to thank me for that, but you’re welcome,” he said. “I know this ain’t conventional but we’re going to make it work, alright?” I nodded. “Goodnight, Seraphina.” 

“Goodnight.” 

After Sy left, I changed into my nightgown and braided my hair, then climbed into my new bed. It was far more comfortable than the one I had at home. Home. I had to stop thinking about that being Daddy’s house. I wasn’t there anymore and if I was honest with myself, it hadn’t been a home since Momma passed away. 

I looked out the window across from me. It was cracked slightly and a breeze was blowing through it, making the curtains billow and dance. The moon was big and white, hanging low in the sky that was dotted here and there with the glow of lightning bugs. I could hear the cicadas singing, lulling me to sleep. I’d spent so many years dreaming of running away but as I lay there that night in a strange bed, in a strange house, down the hall from a complete stranger, I wanted nothing more than to stay right where I was. 

[missacidburn928]

Hunterverse Crossover Update

Chapter 3 is now live on Ao3! Click the link below to check it out!

Happy Reading Heathens 🖤

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way, you're happy without me...

[wendimydarling]

Weakness

Title: Weakness

Summary: Syverson and his wife get into an argument, and he shows her bratty ass how to mind.

Pairing: Syverson x First Person Reader

Word Count: 2017

Warnings: nudity, manhandling, penetrative sex, tickling.

A/N: Last request of the year, folks... I’ve got a full plate!

Could you please do a tickle fic with syverson where u guys have a fight, but then when he comes to bed late at night you tickle him to get him to talk. But then he gets annoyed at you and ends up tying you up and tickling you as a punishment, though it ends in fluff and giggles at the end? Love ur fics!

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How many times we gonna have this argument?”

I had zero desire to do this tonight but I stood there anyway, arms crossed, nostrils flaring. Everyone in the bar was cowering away from Syverson’s intimidating hulk of a stance, but not me. I’d been with him for too long.

The guy that hit on me was far in retreat but once again, I’d been embarrassed in front of everyone by Sy taking it too seriously. He was so protective and for the most part, I didn’t mind. But I consider myself a woman that can defend herself without the aid of a man, and when said man comes in and threatens to maul any man within a ten foot radius of me, my intimidation factor gets undercut by about fifty percent.

Syverson also had his arms crossed, his legs regulation width apart and back ramrod straight. His size alone was enough to terrify most women, and even some men, but not me. I was far too pissed. Sy furrowed his brow.

“I’ll not have anyone hittin’ on my woman, especially not while I’m there to defend her,” he stated firmly. I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air.

“We’re goin’ in circles, and I ain’t doin’ this in public, especially not tonight,” I snapped. I grabbed my clutch and walked out the door, hailing a passing taxi and getting in before I could change my mind. As I gave the driver my address, I looked out the window and saw Syverson standing there, his mouth set in a stern line. A pang of excited fear shot into my belly; I had just left my husband at a bar. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Syverson made it home about twenty long minutes after I did. They had to have been the most agonizing minutes of my life, and that included the time he suddenly lost phone reception once when he was on tour. I got ready for bed while I waited for him to come home, but I knew sleep would evade me. Back and forth I paced, straightening the décor on our shelves and brushing my hair before finally coming to rest on the bed, my knees pulled up to my chest. 

I heard a car door outside and adrenaline coursed through my veins; the front door slamming shut near made me jump out of my skin. My body was rooted to the mattress, fingers fidgeting with the lacey hem of my cotton nightgown nervously. Sy entered our room, glanced at me briefly, then tore off his shirt and tossed it in the hamper as he barricaded himself in our bathroom without a word. I was in so much trouble, and my heart sank down into my stomach. Why of all nights did we have to do this tonight?

It wasn’t long before Syverson came back into the room, scowl still stubbornly etched on his face as he removed the rest of his clothes. He caught my eye and held it in silent warning; I didn’t dare look away. His belt was drawn out of its fabric station slowly and my ass clenched in apprehensive dread, but Sy just dropped it to the floor. My annoyance catapulted over my fear.

“Ya just not gonna talk to me then?” I snapped, shooting him my own glare. Syverson still didn’t speak, simply shucked his legs out of his pants and boxers and climbed under the covers, rolling over so that his back was facing me. That was the last straw.

“Sy…” I drawled, dragging a fingernail down his spine. He rotated his shoulder and huffed, but didn’t turn over. Determined, I tried again, spidering my fingers over the back of his ribs. Syverson spun around with surprising agility for a man so large and in a flash my wrist was seized. 

“Best not start somethin’ ya can’t finish, little lady,” he warned, shoving my hand away. He closed his eyes and settled back into the bed. Anyone else would have heeded Sy’s warning, but not me. I needed to talk about it. 

“Come on Sy, talk to me,” I pleaded. He just grunted. I assessed the situation, surveying his body for my plan of attack. His big arms protected most of his torso but the blanket had ridden down when he flipped over, and I could see the sharp point of his hip bone cresting through the waves of hair that graced his skin. Bingo.

I crawled on the bed carefully, sneaking a hand beneath the blanket to where Syverson’s warm girth lay nestled between his thighs. He grunted again but shifted to grant me more access; he never could say no to a blow job, no matter how mad he was. I straddled his chest and palmed him softly, smirking as he fell straight into my trap. Instead of leaning over though, I drilled my fingers into the deep pockets of his hips, relishing the way he immediately started huffing and throwing curses my way.

“If ya ain’t gonna talk to me then I’m just gonna tickle ya,” I drawled, scribbling my nails over his sensitive flesh. Sy grunted and jerked but he couldn’t quite get his hands around my torso to reach, the tickles confusing his brain and causing him to lose focus.

“Hmmm… still don’t wanna talk?” I teased, “Fine then, perhaps I should move to yer feet.”

In a flash my ankles were yanked out from under me and I was rolled underneath Sy’s heavy frame, his nimble fingers finding purchase beneath him on my sensitive ribs. I squealed and scrambled for his hands, kicking at him as I tried to stop the tickles. He just climbed on top of me and flipped around to straddle my hips, instantly immobilizing me and removing any notion I had of making it out of this alive.

“Ya think ya can just leave?” Syverson growled, pinning my arms above my head with one hand and returned to digging his fingers into my rib cage. I squealed again and fought to escape, but his thighs were an iron vice around my hips and his rough hand effortlessly held my wrists, locking me in place so that he had all the room in the world to punish me for my behavior.

“Ya thought this was over just cause you were done with it?” His fingers drilled faster, their ferocity matching the scowl on his face as I laughed helplessly.

“Try again, little lady... we ain’t over ‘til I say so.”

With that, he reverted back to his silence. I screamed and pleaded with him but he ignored me, tickling any skin he could find. When he ran out of skin to tickle he simply created more, rucking up my nightgown to gain access to my belly and navel. I laughed and wailed but my cries met a stone wall; I was too ticklish for my own good, and Syverson was mad. 

He tore my nightgown completely off me and grabbed my wrists, and I took the brief moment to gasp for air. My respite was short lived however as I noticed his intentions; he was pinning my arms beneath his knees.

“No, Sy NO, PLEASE!!” I protested, pulling uselessly against his brute strength. I knew his game, I knew where he was headed and I didn’t want it. 

“I’m sorry,” I begged him. Sy stared at me, hands on his knees, glare still firmly lodged on his face.

“I told ya not to start something ya couldn’t finish,” he said coldly. His hands travelled slowly behind him, resting along the supple flesh on my thighs.

“I know, I--KNOW,” I gasped, kicking at him. Syverson shuffled my body as I spoke, spreading my legs and trapping them between his folded knees.

“Ya just... ya wouldn’t talk to me, Sy. I didn’t want to go to bed upset, not tonight,” I admitted, gazing up at him with round eyes. I struggled under his weight, trembling as his fingertips grazed along the inner tendons that connected my legs to the rest of my body. Sy gave me a look that said I better keep talking, so I continued to explain.

“I don’t need ya to defend me all the time,” I said softly, not wanting to look at him. I knew his face would show that he was hurt, and I was right.

“That’s what I’m here for, bug,” He whispered, staring at my heaving chest as he traced circles along my sensitive loins. I shivered. God, I wanted to reach out and hold him.

“But what about when ya aren’t here?” 

Syverson’s head snapped up to look at me, fire and pain flaring in his eyes. I could see that it hadn’t occurred to him that I still got hit on when he was overseas. Remorse and understanding fell over his features, and he nodded in submission.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Still, ya need to pay fer leavin’ the bar without me.”

His fingers picked up their pace and my face scrunched up in agony. I wasn’t gonna get out of this by distracting him, and I was left with no choice but to accept my punishment. Still, I had to try.

“Sy, no don’t--” I managed to get out before he was squeezing those tendons between his thumbs and fingers, pinching every last ticklish nerve along my thighs. I thrashed and screamed, the highest-pitched squeals tumbling from my lips as he laid waste to my secret weakness, fluttering his fingers all over my mound. Time lost all meaning; had it been five minutes? Ten? I didn’t know, all I knew was that instead of tickles, my tortured pussy desired nothing more than for him to split me open and fuck me into the next century.

“NO MORE!” I begged, “SY PLEEEHEHEASE!! NO MOOOHOHORE!!”

His fingers froze and Syverson cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Ya gonna try and fight back?” he questioned, positioning his elbows on either side of my head.

“No sir,” I breathed.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled. My eyes softened and I gazed at his face, desperate to touch him, to comfort him.

“I belong to you.”

“Good girl.”

Sy released my arms and I wrapped them around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder as he did the same to me, thrusting into me to be as close as he could. He was hard as a rock, it took no more than five seconds before he was bottomed out and we two had become one flesh. It was an old song and dance and yet every time still felt like the first.

 Syverson held me close as I clung to him fiercely, my tears weaving a wet trail into my hair as his embrace coiled around me, suffocating me in the best of ways.

“I’ll be back before you know it, bug,” He crooned against my cheek, but I could hear how choked up he was and I lost it. I would never get used to him leaving.

“You better be,” I sobbed, never wanting this night to end. Tomorrow brought pain, and separation.

“Now now, no tears,” Sy shushed, cradling my face in his hands and wiping the salt that threatened to stain my face. He thrust into me, hard and wanting and I gasped, pitching my hips to meet his. My cervix was on fire, the slightest movement would send me barreling over the edge into bliss. I saw a glint in Sy’s eye, one that told me he was about to be devilishly mischievous and my arms were brought to rest above my head, fingers interlocked with mine, and kisses alighted on my nose and neck as his lips found their way to my ear. 

“Keep your arms up, bug,” he ordered, his fingertips spidering softly down my arms. No, I thought, squirming my hips and then gasping in shock as pleasure rocked through my center. Not this. Anything but this. His voice came searing into my mind, sealing my fate with one phrase.

“Yer gonna learn not to start somethin’ ya can’t finish.”