#captain syverson sandcastle

[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.”

[shekeepswriting]

A Little More Heart

[Syverson x Reader]

Word Count: 3977

Summary: On a night out with an old friend, Sy meets a woman who catches his interest.

Warnings: Just cursing and a little bit of alcohol

A/N: This could become a series? I’ve got little bits and pieces and some fun ideas. Let me know if you’d be interested in that. I’m new to this part of tumblr and very nervous...

Sullivan’s was pretty barren that night, not that anyone could expect much for this late on a Thursday night. A few regulars warming their usual barstools, making conversation and laying out their woes to a characteristically haggard Billy Sullivan as he filled the pretzel and peanut bowls. A duo of middle aged women talking gratuitous shit at a table near the middle of the room with frequent smoke breaks. A  group of four guys, barely on the right side of 21, trying to boost their cool kid points by getting good at pool. One woman sitting at the end of the bar with a notebook, leaning heavily on her forearms in a way that read more fatigue than alcohol consumption. Looked like she was drinking lemonade. 

Everyone who had been there when Syverson and Danny walked in two hours earlier was still holding steady.

They’d made their way through the stages of conversation people usually had drinking with old friends. The short term catch up, funny argument over something stupid, brief foray into more emotional territory, shared memories, hypotheticals. Their night, at least, was starting to wind down. 

When Sy came back from the bathroom, Danny was staring at the woman at the bar, finger tapping idly on his glass. Having known him since he was fifteen years old, Sy knew that face very well.

“Not gonna go your way,” Sy said mildly, with a hint of a smirk.

“No? How d’you figure?” 

“She’s sitting at the very end of the bar with a notebook and pen. She didn’t come here to make friends or get hit on.” 

“She could’ve stayed home to write,” Danny argued, but his face was thoughtful as he watched you.

“We could’ve stayed home to drink.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Alright, take it easy. I’m not gonna harass the woman. Just gonna introduce myself. If she’s not interested, I’ll go. Not trying to be an ass.” 

“Nah, you don’t gotta try. You’re a natural.” 

Danny squinted, snatching at Sy’s glass and downing the rest of his drink in retaliation. 

“You go then. Looks like you’re running empty anyway.” 

“I don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Oh, I know it. Old man Syverson ain’t known the touch of a woman in fifty years,” Danny said, exaggerating his accent and wiping away an imaginary tear. 

“That’s enough of that now.”

“Come on, man. Look at her. Frowning and drinking alone. She’s your soulmate.” 

Sy shot him a frown, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Not drinking alone though, am I?”

“You talk to her or I will.”  

Sy gave an unconvinced grumble, but the look on Danny’s face made it clear it was no idle bluff. Now, there was nothing wrong with Danny. He wasn’t aggressive or pushy; he knew how to take no for an answer. But he’d give it a solid effort, and he was the most extroverted person Sy had ever met. 

If you were uninterested in company, the way that he was almost certain you were, it would be easier to avoid the whole process entirely. And if Sy took up the bar stool two spaces to your right, Danny wouldn’t have a clear view to know whether or not the two of you actually spoke a word to each other.

He stood up from the table with a deep sigh, making sure his annoyance over the disruption of his night was fully documented.

“Happy hunting, Captain,” Danny said with a stupid grin and a sloppy salute that had Sy rolling his eyes as he turned towards the bar.

As you noticed his approach, your shoulders tensed up, lips slightly pursed but eyes still trained on your journal. Sy gave you space, careful to only observe you through his peripheral vision as he claimed a stool a fair distance from you, leaving a buffer seat between you.

Billy approached as he sat, brought him a beer with minimal conversation.

You fidgeted, clicking your pen three times in rapid succession. 

There wasn’t much more Sy could do to set you at ease without blowing the whole operation, but he set his phone on the bartop, scrolling absently through contacts and pictures to give himself something to do, something to help you feel less observed.

Your leg started bouncing and you glanced at him, quick as humanly possible. 

There was a silent standoff for a few minutes, one Sy was trying very hard to will out of existence. But you were still tense on your barstool, expectant.

You broke first.

“No pitch, huh?”

You were looking right at him this time, fully turned to face him, eyes intense but not unfriendly. 

“Pitch?”

“You left that cozy corner table to come drink by yourself on an uncomfortable bar stool. Usually the kind of move that’s followed by an introduction, maybe some pickup lines. A pitch of some kind.”

Sy turned his head just enough to see the table he’d been sitting at out of the corner of his eye. Danny turned his head away too fast, feigning interest in the record cover art hanging on the bar walls. Idiot. 

“Saw me over there, huh?”

“I’m a woman drinking alone in a dive bar, and you are literally the largest threat in the room. Of course I saw you.”

Sy frowned.

“Not a threat to nobody.”

You raised your eyebrow, reaching out with a speed that had Sy struggling not to tense up as you looped your pen under the chain barely peeking out of the neckline of his shirt. 

“You don’t strike me as the necklace type. Military, right?”

“Retired.”

You hummed, letting the chain drop back against his skin as you retreated from his personal space.  He reached up, patting the shape of his tags as they resettled against his chest beneath his shirt. It felt strange, wearing them again. He wasn’t used to it anymore. Normally they lived in the back of the top drawer in his desk, out of sight and as far out of mind as he could manage to keep them. But anniversaries were psychologically significant. He’d learned that in therapy. So he’d decided to honor this one, the anniversary of his initial enlistment, by putting them on again. Going out with a friend from before… everything. It was why he was here. 

“Military,” you repeated quietly, your eyes back on your notebook again, still tilted out of Syverson’s view as you flipped the page, stared at the blank expanse for a moment before giving your pen two thoughtful clicks. “Always a threat.”

Sy’s stomach lurched uncomfortably.

“Not to you. Not to anyone in this bar,” he said firmly, tilting his head to add as an afterthought, “Long as they mind their fuckin manners.” 

Your mouth curved up at the corner, just the hint of a smile, the first he’d seen from you all night. Not that he’d been watching. Much. It disappeared after only a few seconds, replaced by a focused frown that traced a crease between your brows as you put pen to paper.

His eyes flicked down towards the bartop, but the cover of the notebook still shielded the page from his view. He was tempted to drop it, leave you to your work, whatever that might be. But your body language gave him pause. You had shuffled around on your stool during your brief conversation and remained that way even now, shoulders and hips pivoted slightly in his direction rather than running parallel to the bar in a position more comfortable for writing. He fiddled with the label on the bottle of beer the bartender had brought him, the corner peeling back easy under his thumb before he smoothed it back into place. 

“What’re you doing?”

You glanced up at him, flashing that little smile again, though this time it looked a little sharper, caught somewhere between self-conscious and amused.

“Chasing the muse, I guess.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, gave a neutral hum.

“Not sure I know what that means.”

“Sure you do,” you said quietly, eyes tracing thoughtfully over his face before you turned your attention back to your notebook. “It’s a pretty universal concept, I think.”

“Maybe.” He took a sip of his beer. “Just figured most people don’t come this far south looking for it. More of a New York and LA kind of thing.”

“Just because those are the places most people look for inspiration, doesn’t mean those are the only places you can find it.”

You were some kind of artist then. Interesting. 

“Can I ask what you’re looking to inspire? Or is that too personal?”

That earned him another look, something quiet and appreciative. Two quick pen clicks. 

“You can ask. I kinda want to hear you guess though.”

He looked again at your notebook. It wasn’t the tiny kind, but it wasn’t full sized either. Leatherbound or something like it, not spiral. He couldn’t see the paper to know whether it was lined or not. Could be for writing small amounts. Drawing maybe. You could even be writing song lyrics in there. He hadn’t been around enough artsy people in his life to know a damn thing about it. 

But he was observant, good at cataloging behavior, pretty decent at reading people. When he had first approached, your hand had been gliding in straight lines across the page, but now it was moving more erratically. There was something different in your glances too. Slow, almost too intense to be polite, analyzing. Maybe you were drawing him on that page you kept so carefully hidden from his gaze. Or maybe you were still deciding whether or not he was a threat to you. Sy wasn’t totally comfortable with either option, but he’d prefer to think that the current turn of the conversation was proof of you softening just a little towards him. 

He hedged his bets a little, just in case.

“Don’t see any paint on ya. That’s about the best I can do,” he said mildly.

“That was an awful lot of thinking for ‘don’t see any paint on ya,’’' you said, tilting your head. A bit too gentle to be an accusation, but you still wanted a better answer.

“Alright…” Sy shifted on his bar stool, angling towards you. “Looked like you were writing before I got here. But now you’re either scribbling or drawing. Maybe even drawing me by the way you keep looking at me. Unless you’ve got another reason to be staring like that.”

Right answer. You were smiling again, a little freer than last time.

“I’m not staring.”

He shrugged. “Studying, then.”

“I’ll take studying,” you said with a slow nod. “Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“I’ll live.”

“Of course you will, but that’s not an answer.”

“Sure isn’t,” he said, taking another drink.

His own lips curved up into a smile, almost against his will, when you laughed. Bright and open. You were fully facing him now with the kind of smile that was impossible to ignore, genuine and joyful and inescapably contagious. 

“Let’s try this then…” you said, trailing off into soft humming sounds as you added a few last hurried lines to your notebook before setting your pen down.

You ripped the page out as cleanly as you could manage and set it on the scarred bar top, giving it a little push towards him.

And it was his face looking up at him from the paper, rendered in wild pen strokes of blue ink, but no less detailed for the messy style. The close cut of his hair, sharp furrow of his brows above focused eyes, the beard that had needed trimming for two days at least. Neither unflattering nor romanticized, just honest. The way you saw him. A little intense, a little rough around the edges, but not harsh. There was kindness there somewhere in the lines of his face, but he couldn’t pin down exactly where.

Sy hummed, gestured toward your pen.

“Borrow that for a minute?”

You slid it down the bar to him with a raised brow. 

He nodded in thanks as he took it, snagging an unused napkin as well. With an excessive slowness, he sketched out his very best stick figure, looking up at you with an evaluative stare when he heard a muffled laugh. You dropped your hand from your mouth, meeting his gaze with a playful smile, tolerating the long look with amusement dancing in your eyes.

He dutifully added two dot eyes, pausing for a moment before drawing eyelashes and eyebrows, trying not to tear through the napkin. A very geometric nose followed, and a wide open smile. After another long look he added your hair, actually bothering to get the shape right since it seemed much more attainable even with his limited art skills. 

You were still smiling as you watched him sign the corner. 

“Those your initials or is that your name?” you asked, tilting your head to read the tiny letters.

“My name,” he answered, sliding the napkin and pen back to the bar space between your two stools. 

“Sy,” you said slowly, as if testing the sound of it. He smiled too, just a little, not remembering when he’d last liked the sound of his own name so much. 

“You didn’t sign yours,” he reminded you, and you squinted your eyes at him, knowing full well what he was after. 

Still, you took up the pen and signed the loose sheet of notebook paper. Probably exactly as you signed everything else: mostly illegibly. He could decipher the initials, but not much else.

You let out a snort at the unimpressed look he leveled at you. 

“Now you’re just causin’ problems on purpose.”

“It’s not my fault that you write like a caps lock keyboard and I don’t.”

He sighed. 

“And here I drew you a real pretty picture,” Sy said slowly, tapping the napkin. 

“You did,” you said with a smile. “But I’m still holding out for the pitch.” 

“I still don’t have one.”

“Come on, now,” you said, a challenging spark in your eyes. “I’ve never met a man who didn’t have a pitch. A line. A move. You’ve got something.”

“Haven’t done none of that since I was a teenager,” he said. “I’ve got no use for that shit.”

“Sure you do. Because I’m asking. And don’t tell me you haven’t flirted since you were a teenager. I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sy shifted in his seat.

“Didn’t say I never flirted. Just said I don’t use lines.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully at the distinction, resting your chin on your hand. 

“Come on now. You want to know my name, that’s the price. And I expect your best work, Sy.” 

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his forehead. This was about to be real fuckin embarrassing. 

“Alright. Not promising anything good, here. I only ever had two.”

“Efficient,” you said with an approving nod.

“They’re not good,” he repeated.

“But they worked?” 

“Mostly. God only knows why.”

“Stop stalling,” you said in a stage whisper.

“First one…”

“I’m ready.”

He cleared his throat, looked straight into your eyes. 

“Wanna make out later?”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise before stretching into a wide smile. 

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “I wasn’t ready.”

Sy shrugged, took a sip of his beer while you stared at him in awe.

“That worked for you?”

“Yep,” he said with a small smile. “What, you don’t appreciate honesty?”

“I… do,” you answered slowly. “Okay, I guess I see it. What’s the second one?”

“Excuse me, ma’am, I don’t mean to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my phone number. Could I borrow yours?”

“You turned your accent up for that one,” you said with a delighted laugh. “Full force southern charm. My God, what a little heartbreaker you must have been!”

“Now you’re just bein’ mean,” he said, turning back away from you.

“No, I’m completely serious. I fully believe those worked for you, and now I kinda want to see pictures.”

“Now, you’ve gotten more than enough outta me for one night.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed. 

You picked your pen back up, wrote your first name in small block letters under your artsy scribble, your best approximation of his own handwriting.

“Bullyin me,” he muttered even as he committed your name to memory.

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery,” you said breezily, laughing at the look he shot you in response.

“So, what, you’re some kind of artist then?” he asked, changing the subject. “Draw and paint and all that?”

You shook your head.

“Not really, no. That’s just for fun. I like drawing people.”

He looked at the paper again.

“Well you’re damn good at it. If that’s not the muse you’re chasin, what is?”

“Umm,” you sighed, like you were preparing to give an explanation that you’d given dozens of times before. “I write online for a magazine. It’s… kind of like a travel blog, but it’s less about the places and more about the people? Here…” 

You reached into your pocket for your phone, tapping around for a bit before handing it to him. There was a picture of you at the top, a profile view of you driving, but it was so strongly backlit by a late afternoon sun, that it left your features mostly indistinguishable. Smart. Probably safer that way. Below that, a US map covered in multicolor pins, a calendar view, with dots on days you’d posted, and finally a list of posts. Abbreviated views of each one showed a first name and city, a pen drawing like the one you’d done of him, and the first two sentences of your story. 

He nodded slowly.

“You gonna write a story about me, then?”

You fussed with your hair, shifting uncomfortably on your stool. 

“Probably not. Unless you want me to. I always ask permission first.”

“I’m sure you do. Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

You sighed again. Sy frowned.

“So what’s the problem then? Looks like there’s a lot here. Doesn’t seem like you need a lot of help.”

“I didn’t think so either,” you said with an unhappy smile. “But my editor has decided that I need to attract more dedicated readers. People who check the website every day, not just when they think to. Subscribers. And to do that, I apparently need to add a little more heart.” 

“What’s that mean?” Sy asked.

“Good fuckin question,” you said, lifting your glass as if in a toast. “I guess some sort of emotional buy-in. Something personal and specific so the readers get invested in me specifically, not just the people I talk to.”

“And that brought you down here?”

You shrugged.

“My grandma lives here. Seemed like as good a plan as any.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to see you, whether it helps with your writing or not.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your eyes softening. “She really is.”

“How long you think you’ll be staying?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got two weeks of posts queued up, so I bought myself at least that long before I have to figure out how to… do the emotion thing.” 

“That damn emotion thing,” Sy said, shaking his head, smiling a bit when it drew a soft laugh from you.

“Yeah…”

“Maybe I’ll see you around again then,” he ventured, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a tiny ass town,” you said with a smile. “So probably.” 

“You’d be okay with that?” he checked.

You laughed again, nudged his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think so. Long as you mind your fuckin manners,” you said, taking on an overplayed surly tone as you repeated his earlier comment back to him. 

“I always mind my manners,” he said matter-of-factly, glaring playfully at you when it elicited a snort from you. 

“Oh, sure you do,” you laughed, checking the time on your phone.

You took a deep breath in the companionable silence that followed, reaching down to drag your bag up from where it had been tucked safely between your feet. The napkin with Sy’s drawing curled your lips into another smile as you closed it between the pages of your notebook and stowed it in the main zipper pocket along with your pen. Your phone went back into your pocket. 

Looked like his time with you was almost up.

He leaned back on his barstool a little, glancing back at Danny who was now schooling the young guy at pool with a self-satisfied smile. 

When he returned his attention to you, you were giving him that searching look again. 

“About that time?” he asked.

“I think so, yeah,” you said. “It was nice meeting you, Sy. Sorry for giving you a hard time.”

“Nah, you’re not.”

You laughed, shrugged your shoulders.

“I’d like to think it did you some good. But seriously. I had fun talking to you. Thanks for the company.”

He nodded, gave you a smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Hope so.”

You took another breath and slid off your stool. Billy came to collect your glass, mostly melted ice now, and you gave him a polite smile. 

There was a moment of hesitation, like you wanted to say something else but weren’t sure what. You settled for a little wave as you started to turn towards the door. Then it was Sy’s turn to feel it, the suddenly urgent need to say something, to drag the moment out just a little longer.

He called out your name, a plan forming in his head when you turned quickly back to him.

“Yeah?”

“Well, ‘fore you go, I figure I should ask you...”

“Ask me what?” 

If you had any idea what he was about to say, you were hiding it extremely well, just staring at him curiously, head slightly tilted and smiling softly. Almost made him change his mind. Almost.

“You wanna make out later?”

Your eyes lit up, a laugh barely kept in check, locked behind a widening smile. 

“Oh, I see. I get it now,” you said, taking a step closer. 

Sy raised his eyebrows.

“It’s the eyes that do it. You weren’t doing the eyes before.” 

“I’m not doing nothing with my eyes,” he argued, but a smile slipped free when you took another step closer. 

“Yes you are,” you laughed. “You’re smoldering.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t smolder.” 

“It’s more lighthearted than most,” you admitted. “Dare I say even playful. But it’s still a smolder.” 

He shrugged easily, eyes scanning over your face.

“Still ain’t answered my question.”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

“Said it, didn’t I?”

You looked him over, humming thoughtfully. He didn’t move, kept right on looking until your eyes returned to his.

“I’ll think about it and let you know,” you answered with an unreadable expression.

“And how are you gonna manage that?” he asked, spinning on the bar stool to keep his eyes on you as you moved towards the door.

You clicked your tongue, patting at your pockets with increasing concern until you finally met his eyes with a despairing frown.

“Oh God, you’re right! I totally lost my phone number. Any chance that I could borrow yours?”

Sy shook his head with a sigh, holding his hand out for your phone as you approached him again, an inescapably smug smile on your lips.

“Think you’re real cute, don’t you?” he muttered, biting at the corner of his lip to keep a smile in check.

“You certainly think so, or it wouldn’t have worked.”

He handed your phone back to you, watched you send him a wink emoji before you turned to leave again with a parting flutter of your fingers.

He shook his head again when the door closed behind you and saved your number as “Trouble.”

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

A/N: I’m very nervous. Please let me know what you think and if you wanna read more! Thanks for sticking with me this far

[astheskycries]

Can we get play fighting/wrestling tickles from Captain Syverson? He’s just in a good around mood?

Since this was completely hidden in my inbox with a couple other asks- thanks Tumblr- I'll go ahead and approach this in a fun way.

Our sweet soldier Sy absolutely loves play fighting with you, especially seeing you get so riled up and eager to try and pin him down.

The ability for him to throw you around a bit and see his effect on you was a nice little bonus as well.

Now, you two were together for a nice little bit before he discovered your little secret, the main reason it took him so long to notice being the tour he was on and nothing to do with his lack of care. You two were relatively tame when it came to sexting and calls while he was overseas, mostly preferring to stay away from kinkier topics when he could be so easily caught, but it didn't take too long for him to realize how sensitive you were. You reacted to his every touch in a way he found gorgeous, and he loved taking advantage of them in the bedroom.

Once he realized you were ticklish, well, it was over. He loved hearing you laugh, and discovering new spots and getting to have the upper hand in tickle fights or playful arguments about not wanting to let him do the dishes became easy wins. It wasn't too long before he started to notice the changes when he'd tickle you though- voice much more breathless than you should, the slightly more dilated pupils, even the way you seemed to squirm when his touch left you. Though he was confident, all it took was a sporadic tickle fight to wrestle you down and discover your arousal, and to say the Captain was thrilled to explore would be an understatement.

Sorry that became a bit more steamy than playful, but I hope you still enjoyed it anon.

[peyton-warren]

Between a Wolf and A Hard Place Series Masterlist

Jake Jensen x Reader with a large side of Captain Syverson.  Angst, fluff and violence. Your significant other comes home from a mission to find someone unexpected in your newly shared home

Warnings: mostly angst and fluff. And there is one solid punch in the mix.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

[switchbladedreamz]

Bastard of a Leak

Requested?: nah

Pairing: Captain "Luke" Syverson x Reader

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: i made up the name Luke, brief mention of reader having glasses, brief mention of reader being bisexual.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here" the drawl of my husband's southern accent drifts through the air. I ignore him. "Honey don't tell me you been under there all day? When did you go to the hardware store!?". I'm under the kitchen sink surrounded by pieces of pvc, pvc glue, a wrench and clamps here and there, oh and drenched from neck to navel. The leak was driving me crazy and i know my way around a thing or two so I thought i would give my hand a try but apparently my hand is not plumbing compatible. "C'mon baby get out from under there and lemme get a look'achya" my husband asks. I sigh before crawling out from under the sink dusting my back and my ass off, and look up to the hulk of the man in front of me.

The look in his eyes could sink a ship or make his momma proud. Pride, hunger, and awe swirl in his eyes like minnows playing in the shallows of a creek bed. "You been workin on that bastard leak from hell all day, it's already 9:30. I'll call a guy tomorrow. Okay?" I resign with a simple nod, leaning directly forward i rest my forehead on his chest. Sy's arms fold around my grimy body bringing me into him. His warmth momentarily melts away the ache that had settled over me while the sun was still shining. "Okay." i finally settled on the matter. "There's my girl. Now go shower while I heat up your dinner okay?" I relinquish a barely audible "okay", i fight to untangle myself from the tree trunks that refuse to let me go. "Baaahaabyyyyy" i whine until Sy just chuckles and opens his arms. Limply I shuffle toward the bathroom, taking my boots off before the door and tossing the wet tank top off in the hamper with the rest of my clothes. I take a quick cold shower and wash my everything as fast as possible with sore arms and taut back muscles, i want to eat and lay down. Leaving the door open to the steamy bathroom, I walk down the hall to my bedroom. Toweling off and changing into another tank top and shorts. Exiting the bedroom i call out "baby" trying to find my husband. My answer sounds like its coming from the kitchen. "Oh where oh where can my baby beee? The Lord took her away from me" his singing is a treat. Luke turns around as i start the next verse, my plate in his hands. "She's gone to heaven so I've got be good so i can see my baby when I leave this world" I watch as he sets the plate at my place at the table, and the bowl in his left hand he sets at his place. He walks toward me and it is only then i notice he's shirtless. I must've gotten his shirt wet earlier. Big hands warm my hips his fingers slip under my shirt to hold my bare back. We sway as he sings,

"We went out on a date in my daddy's car. We hadn't driven very far. There in the road, straight ahead. A car was stalled, the engine was dead. I couldn't stop so i swerved to the right I'll never forget the sounds that night", my ear rests against his heart. I count the steady pace of his heart beats...1 ..2 ..3 ..4 ..1...2 ..his smooth voice rocks the airwaves around, we rock our bodies to Pearl Jam's rhythm. Luke's voice is like whiskey to me, its deep like amber with a spike of raw honey. I would drink myself to death on it if I could. If only he'd sing for me more often. A loud grumble and a stab of hunger erupted from my stomach which made Sy laugh. Moment over. "C'mon baby lets get some food in that belly".

I sit and eat my "grilled chicken pasta leftover surprise" as my honey so lovingly called it. Luke's head is down, and is currently grunting in between shoveling spoonfuls of.. something, into his mouth, I I left my glasses in the bathroom. He has his forearm wrapped in front of the bowl while his hand wrests on the bowl's side, as if he's holding it to the table..or hostage. I peer over to peek, its ice cream.

It makes me giggle. Such a big man is so protective of a little bowl of ice cream. "Huh?" He perks his head up. There's white drop and caramel all over his mustache and there's little pieces of chocolate in his beard too. I can't hold back my laughter. I get up and head to the kitchen. The hardwood floor of the dining room is cold tonight, the tile is chilled as I enter the kitchen. I lean down in front of the kitchen sink, opening the cabinet doors is when I remember I moved the wash cloths to the counter top. I sigh coming back up, god I'm sore. Snatching the top washcloth on the pile i run it under warm water for a few seconds. I grab a second wash cloth with my dry hand and open the sink cabinet once again. I toss the half unfolded cloth on the puddle of water below the pipes and shut the door with my foot. I could feel my husband watching me like a hawk the whole time, he wouldn't think I noticed his shoulders relax when he realized i was coming back to the table. "Whatcha doin baby?" I decided to ignore his question. I raise the cloth to his face, hesitating trying to convey my intentions. He watches my wrist, anticipation written in his eyes. His lips are drawn thin to a line on his face. "You coulda just said somethin". I just grin back at him as my answer.

I watch as the light casts eyelash shadows beneath his eyes, they flutter then close as the warm cloth comes in contact with his moustache in light downward swipes.

"i gotta tell ya it was pretty sexy seein you under there workin so hard. I guess finding your significant other doing manual labor sexy goes both ways. Like you" he chuckles. His eyes still closed as I clean his beard. His words make me giggle. "Good to know, I'll have to keep that in my back pocket. But I don't wanna get under that sink again." Luke pulls me down onto his lap to sit. He kisses my temple. "You worked damn hard today and I'm proud of you. I made some calls and got a few different quotes, i figured we would look at 'em together tomorrow and decide on who's the best option". It's my turn to kiss him. I lean forward and lightly kiss him, his lips are a little sticky from the ice cream. "You're so sweet, my bear." He takes my left hand and puts his on his cheeks, his thumb twiddling with the set of two rings on my left ring finger. It makes me smile, I give his forehead a small kiss and stand up. I turn around to head to my chair and Luke slaps my ass. He chuckles as the gasp I made as he picks his spoon up and returns back to his mistress, the bowl of Rocky Road.

[augustsprincess]

A late birthday present for @cavillsthighs

[halohalona]

ok so like– hear me out

😳

✋✋

this man^^^

and this man^^^

that's it, take it as you will

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 2

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: slept like crap last night but we got this.

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. 💖

Sy is nice enough but you're still put off by your meeting. He carries a bag gallantly to a large black truck and pulls open the back door to place it on the seat. He turns to you to take the next. You hug it, wondering if you should settle for half your load and run for the hills.

Still, you can't help but feel beholden to him. The pin on his hat and the way he looks at you. He just seems a bit oblivious to how unsettling his approach Is.

He takes the bag and you just stare. You feel hollow and your ears are on fire. You just keep going along with this and that voice in your head is screaming at you to stop.

“Here,” he shuts the back door and pulls the passenger's open.

You look at him then into the truck. Are you crazy!? You can't just go with this man in his vehicle…

You grab onto the interior of the door and climb up into the truck. He touches your lower back gently as if to help you. You drop into the seat and thank him, trying not to let your fear bubble over.

He shuts the door and your stomach plummets. Are you being kidnapped? Are you letting yourself be abducted? Oh, you're gonna end up on a podcast.

He gets in the driver's side as you sink into the horror movie unfolding in your head. You look over at him as he unfolds a pair of dark sunglasses and puts them on to block out the sun's glare. He's so calm it's frightening. He knows exactly what's coming and you can't even begin to imagine the sheer terror awaiting you.

Maybe a nice basement cell. Worse, a field and a hole six feet deep. Your heart feels like it's stopped. Your vision is hazy and your ears are ringing.

The truck rolls backwards and lurches you back to reality. You blink and look over the hood. Sy pulls out of the spot smoothly and cranks the wheel to straighten out.

“Y'okay, sweetie?” He asks as he comes to the exit.

“Mmm, yeah,” you eke out as you grip the inside of the door. “I'm all good I just… I never expected to meet a follower.”

“Yeah, I uh… you know, I only ever dreamed it. Being over there, the days… well you don't know if you'll see the next, or even the night,” he lets out a deep breath, “I didn't put real thought into it til I got back and… it's so fu– so, er, lonely, you know? You're the only thing that was the same.”

“Oh,” your cheeks twitch as you attempt a smile, “that's very sweet. I… you know, I kinda just do the streams to get my thoughts out, it's not really… I don't know.”

“I like it. It's peaceful,” he drives down the street as the passing buildings spike your concern. “Don't get much of that.”

“Sure, I… I can imagine.”

“Hey, if it means keeping sweet things like you safe, I'll do it,” he chuckles. 

Before you can respond, he slams on the breaks and his tires skid. A car in front of him flashes their tail light. He snarls and you watch the fury furrow above his brows.

“You fu–” his booming voice catches and he bites down on his words, growling instead. “Ugh,” he exhales, “that guy… coulda got hurt…”

“Yeah,” you clasp your hands together.

"Or he coulda hurt us!" He throws a hand up.

“That was close," you mewl, "but we're okay, right?”

He inhales and looks at you. He closes his eyes and nods, “you're right, sweetie.”

You bite down, fighting not to show your fear. There's something in him that threatens to boil over. You can see it in the vein popping out along his forehead.

“So, I know a place, they got good bacon, probably some good french toast,” he leans on the pedal again, “get some whip cream on top?”

“Well, I appreciate it but I really should get home,” you say gently, “but maybe another time–”

“It's my treat, sweetie,” he insists, “it's been a long time since I got to sit down to eat with a pretty girl.”

“Oh,” is all you can muster. You don't want to push him. You know the tenuous tightrope walk. Just do what he wants, keep him happy.

“I didn't say… you look real nice today. That's my favourite of yours,” he keeps one hand on the wheel and points towards you, “the overalls.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and twist your fingers, letting out a rocky chuckle.

“So cute when you do that,” he rumbles and rests his hand on the corner of your seat, “that lil laugh.”

“Um, yeah, sorry, I… it's  a habit.”

“Nah, I like it,” he assures you and rescinds his hand to flip his signal on.

He turns into another plaza and you see the bright painted sign above a diner. A white cup on a teal banner. You've never been there but you pass it on the bus. He pulls up right at the front of the lot before the windows. You can see people inside as waitress carry trays between tables.

“I don't know about you but I'm starving,” he drawls and undoes his seat belt.

You sit in the seat, paralysed and helpless. He comes around your side and you click the button on your own belt. You turn and he offers his hand to help you get down. When you ignore it, he grabs your arm to ease your landing.

He swings the door shut and you shuffle past him. You have no choice but to keep going. Get through this and you'll go home and block him. Maybe even delete your whole account.

He reaches around you as you come up to the door and pulls it open. Be sweeps you inside with his arm and follows you through. A waitress in a black blouse greets you and you look to Sy over your shoulder.

“Table, thank you,” he says.

She leads you to a table for two and you sit, arms crossed as you rock nervously. He orders coffee as he slides off his sunglasses and the waitress turns to you. You push yourself straight. 

“Um, chocolate milk, please,” you request.

“Right away, hon,” she leaves you with the menus as you unfold your arms and pick at your thumbnail.

“So cute, chocolate milk,” he comments as he takes the laminated menu from the table, “oh, look,” he flicks it, “French toast. Can get berries with it.”

You look down and lean forward to see past the sheen of the plastic sheath. You narrow in on the French toast but your stomach rolls. You're too nervous to be hungry.

“Yeah, looks good,” you say, “um, I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Sure,” he smiles as he browses the menu.

You get up, wobbling slightly before you get your balance. You search for the sign to the restrooms and head down the short hall behind the kitchen. You dip inside and lock yourself in a stall.

You really can't afford to abandon your groceries. Worse, you don't dare anger him. He's nice but you don't know how nice he'd be if you ran out on him. Just get yourself together, it's just breakfast. You'll get through it then try to forget your stupidity.

You should've known better but you didn't have enough followers to worry  it never even occurred to you but it should be. It's your own fault.

You take a few minutes to mellow out. You don't quite get there but the longer you stay, the longer he has to get suspicious. No, you're not going to run. You don't think you'll get very far.

You come back out and return to the table. As you sit, he sips his coffee and his eyes crinkle at you. Your chocolate milk is waiting beside a wrapped straw. As you tear through the paper, you sense him watching you.

He clinks his cup down, "ordered your french toast. Extra sugar... since you're so sweet."

You issue a brittle chuckle. You stare at him. He's taken his cap off, revealing a shaved head above his thick beard. His shoulders are broad, all of him is. He's so thick and his arms are bulging with muscle beneath his tee shirt. His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, a contrast to the rest of his rough exterior.

"You don't gotta be shy," his voice gristle in his throat as he leans forward, elbows on the table. "What do ya wanna know?"

"Pardon?" You croak.

"Well, I know everything about you," he grins, "you barely know me."

You gulp, wavering like you've been knocked upside the head. You part your lips and peer around. His self-awareness if almost there but not quite.

"I..." you don't know what to say or ask or do. He toys with the handle of his coffee cup. "What do you take.... in your, uh, coffee?"

He chuckles, "really? Why's that? You planning to bring me coffee in the mornings?"

You meet his eyes again and he winks. You giggle and move your lips like a gasping fish.

"Teasing, ya, sweetie, I don't wanna rush you," he says, "I take it black, but I don't mind some cream on Sundays."

You nod, embarrassed, and poke your straw into your cup, leaning forward to slurp up the chocolate milk. His eyes linger on your lips as you do. You pull back and take a napkin to wipe your mouth.

"Erm... well, what... how did you... find my page?"

He sits back, gripping the edges of the table as he sighs, "I was just scrolling around but I'm starting to think it's something bigger than us, you know? I was goin' through it. I needed something and there you were, showin' off those new boots you got with the flower."

Flowers? You got those boots over a year ago. You remember that stream. He's been watching you that long.

"Oh, ha, right," you murmur.

"There aren't many people out there like you left, you know? I've seen the worst in people but in you, I saw the best," he explains, "the way you just take everything in. Looking at the flowers and the birds and... you just know how to appreciate life."

You smile and nod. What else can you do as the world crashes down? He was there yesterday. That blurry figure behind you in the photo, the shadow creeping just beyond your sight. You don't doubt it was him.

“I try, er…”

You sit back as the waitress approaches. She puts a plate before you, French toast with a side of fruit salad, sugar and whip on top of the bread. She lays down Sy's plate, mounded in eggs, home fries, sausage, and two types of bacon, with rye toast. You would guess that is just barely enough to fill him up.

“Dig in,” he says as he grabs his cutlery.

You sit forward and take your fork and knife. You cut into the eggy bread and stab the small triangle of the corner. As you raise your fork, Sy growls, “get some cream too, sweetie.”

You flinch but do as he says. You swipe the bread through the dolloped cream and shove it through your lips. You stare at your plate as you chew. You wish he wouldn't watch you. You don't like eating in front of others.

“Is it good?” He asks.

“Very,” you swallow and cover your mouth.

“Don't worry, I think it's cute you got cream on your lips,” he plucks up a piece of bacon with his fingers, “didn't get good fixings like this in the sh– over there,” he bites into the strip and chews.

“Yeah, I wouldn't think…” you twirl your fork nervously, “do you have to go back?”

“Mmm, not anytime soon. They're tryna get me on a desk,” he shrugs, “might be a good change but I don't know if I'm suited to it…” he tosses back the rest of the bacon, chewing thoughtfully, “but I'm about that age. Gotta settle down, so I figure, makes sense.”

“Right, right, yeah, fair,” you garble mindlessly.

“Besides, when you got someone at home, you don't wanna run back into the bull– into war,” he smirks.

You take another bite, even as your stomach churns. You don't like how he's talking, as if you're together. As if he knows you. It's strange.

He scoops up a forkful of home fries and shovels them back. You can't fault his table manners, he was probably eating out of cans for the last few years. Not that you would say anything. You're much too scared for that.

You fall into a trance, focusing on the simple task of cutting into the toast, chewing but not tasting as your heart tamps behind your ears. You sense a shift and look up, your cheeks full of food as you make eye contact with Sy’s phone camera. You swallow painfully and nearly choke.

“What are you doing?” You squeak.

“For your Instagram,” he smiles, “I’ll send you the pics…” he frames his phone with both hands as he admires the screen, “you look so cute.”

You shudder and grip the knife and fork tight. You look back to the stack. You think you’ll ask for it to go. If you eat any more, you’re definitely going to be sick.

[viking-raider]

Listen.. what if Sy's tiny 5'1 S/O is actually pretty good at defending themselves and ends up putting Sy on his ass after he scares them unintentionally

I think it would be a moment of surprised to primal horny for Sy. XD Then afterwards he'd apologize for scaring them.

[geralts-yenn]

Bonfire

Captain Syverson (Sandcastle) x reader (female reader, no race, body type or physical features mentioned other then blushing)

summary: After months you finally see Sy again. But how will he react to you after he cancelled his date before he left?

warnings:  fingering, oral (f and m receiving), protected p-i-v sex

word count: 6,7k

A/N: I had this in my WIPs for sooo long, probably wrote this three times, deleted, changed, wrote it again. Sy just didn't do what I wanted to. But when I stumbled over that gif I knew I had to finish this story and I think I am finally happy with everything. Hope you like it too.

More inspo boards

I'd love to get some feedback so please don't hesitate to reblog, comment, ask. Like all my fellow writers I long for every bit of interaction with my readers.

taglist: @raccoon-eyed-rebel @deandoesthingstome @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @ylva-syverson @ellethespaceunicorn

(please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

You feel lost. Why the hell did you even come here in the first place? This was Sy’s coming home party. And you two aren’t really friends. Maybe you could have become. Maybe even more. But time wasn’t on your side. You look over to the man that held your mind and heart captivated in the last year, without even being near you most of the time. 

You were surprised when you first saw him today. The buzz cut and the beard were new and unfamiliar. But it made him even more attractive. You wonder how it would feel to be kissed by him. Would his whiskers be soft or would they rub your soft skin and leave red marks?

You take in how he pulls his upper lip into his mouth, licking the beer from it. The next girl is coming over to him. You have watched them the whole evening: Making doe eyes at him, playing with their hair. All trying their best to get his attention. Of course, he had this effect not only on you. They all wanted him.

Well, you wouldn’t stand in their way. If Sy had had any interest in you, you would have heard from him. But he never called, he never texted, he never wrote. 

All your friends are enjoying the evening, drinking, talking and laughing by the fire. No one seems to notice that you don't join them. You walk away from the bonfire into the woods. 

You sit down on a rock and think about what led you to feel so sad.

May, one year ago:

You were excited to go to your friend’s wedding. It was the first event in your new life. You’d finally be able to get to know some of the people here. You had moved from Chicago to a small town in Texas. Your college roommate Megan had got you that amazing job offer that you couldn't decline. And, because she moved in with her fiancé, she even offered you her old apartment, which you gladly accepted. But the first few weeks in the new job had taken all your time. And Megan didn't have time to show you your new home in Texas either, she was occupied with her wedding. So you didn't know a lot of people yet.

When you saw him for the first time at the wedding, you immediately knew that you would fall for him. He was not only attractive, he had an aura of self-esteem and authority that you couldn’t call anything but ‘big dick energy’.

You watched him striding over to the bar. He took his drink from the bartender and turned, letting his gaze wander through the crowd. You realized too late that his head turned in your direction and when your looks met, you dropped your eyes to the floor hastily. Surely he could see you blush even from the opposite of the room. You walked over to your friend, trying to look like you were very much busy with something else as that gorgeous big guy. But to your shock, only a few moments later, he came over to you. 

He bent his head down to you and whispered: “No need to turn away darlin', I like being eye-fucked by beautiful women.” And he winked at you and walked away with a cocky smile spread over his face.

Now you were sure that everyone in the room could see your cheeks glow brightly. Megan grinned at you, she was near enough to overhear his words. 

“That was Sy. He's quite the charmer, right?” You covered your eyes with your hand. 

“Doing my best to embarrass myself at the first opportunity,” you said, grimacing. But Megan insisted that he didn't want to embarrass you but he was flirting. 

Over the evening, every now and then your look met Sy's. And every time, he gave you a smile. But you were glad that he didn't come over to talk to you anymore because you felt like you would only be stuttering. Especially after the wine you were drinking made your tongue heavy.

When Megan and her now-husband Fletcher had left, you decided to go home, too. You got to know some people and had fun during the evening but you still felt a bit like an outsider and you were too tired for conversations anyway. So you grabbed your cardigan and your purse and headed for the door.

As soon as you looked up, you saw Sy’s eyes, following you the whole way through the room. He had gotten rid of his jacket and his bow tie. The first buttons of his shirt were open now and the sleeves were rolled up over his elbows. That man was a fucking tease on legs and he knew exactly what he was doing. He was standing close to the exit, so you had no other choice as to walk past him. And when you were close enough, he saluted you with two fingers. 

“Sweet dreams, sugar! Hope I see you again soon.” You gave him a shy smile, not daring to speak. Sitting in the Uber that got you home, you wondered if he was talking like that to all the women today, or if he was curious about the ‘new girl’, or maybe he truly was interested in you.

It was unbearably hot the last few days and you were so happy to finally have a free weekend to spend with your new-found friends. Megan, you and a couple of other people had planned a trip to the beach. When you walked down the boardwalk you got really excited. You were a summer girl through and through and you loved the sea.

You were lying on a blanket, sipping on your drink and reading, when you heard some of the guys cheering. You looked up, thinking they were playing a game or something like that, when you saw them waving at someone. You turned around and almost choked on your lemonade when you saw who was walking up to your group. He was wearing camo shorts, a red shirt that was probably a size too small for him and some dark aviators. Like the first time you had seen him, Sy strode along with an attitude of big dick energy that took your breath away. 

After the wedding you couldn’t get him out of your mind anymore and so you were really disappointed that you hadn’t met him ever since. You had tried to subtly ask Megan about him, but of course she knew right away. She told you that he is in the army and he was always quite busy when he was on leave, working on his house, meeting friends and family. But yet you always hoped he would show up when you were out. Three months later you had given up and almost forgot about him, and that's the moment he appeared in your life again.

You turned back to reading your book, trying to look unaffected. But Megan dropped beside you the next moment.

"Look who has time for his friends today…" she said to you playfully. You closed your book and sat up, but instead of an answer, you just rolled your eyes at her. Sy had reached your group and greeted everyone with a nod and a smile. One of the guys handed him a beer can and they started talking. 

Megan, of course, couldn't stop teasing you. "So, how do you like him better, in a suit or with that tight shirt?" She grinned at you. "Damn, I should have waited until he went swimming for that question, I guess. It would be an easier decision then." 

You smacked her on her shoulder but both of you were giggling. "I don't think it would be an easy decision at all. He looks damn fine in a suit, but this shirt is… uh… nice, too. I doubt it can get any better." Megan knew you were going to learn soon how wrong you were so she just let out a loud belly laugh.

Sy looked over to you two, probably searching for the source of laughter. And you could tell the moment when he noticed you were there, too. His eyes got slightly wider and his mouth fell open for a second. He turned his head back to the guy he was talking to, but he seemed to be distracted, fiddling with his fingers, licking his lips and every so often squinting over in your direction. You were surprised to see him like that. This wasn't the confident guy you had seen until now. 

Megan saw it, too.  "D'ahw, he likes you, girl!" she remarked. 

You tried your best to act normal and apparently Sy found back to his cocky self after a while, too. But when he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head, you couldn’t keep your composure any longer. 

“Fuck me!” you mumbled under your breath. Megan shoved her elbow into your side, grinning. 

“Told you so!” she sing-songed into your ear. You both watched how Sy stepped into the water, diving into a wave. 

Megan’s husband Fletcher dropped down next to you. “Ladies, you are staring!” he said amusedly. 

You decided that you should go back to reading when Megan and Fletcher got up to get some sandwiches. But the book you read lead into a quite smutty scene exactly now that you tried to stop thinking about that half-naked hunk in the water. That didn’t help at all! You rolled over to lie on your stomach. At least you weren’t able to look at him now. 

Two pages later, a shadow fell upon you and your book. Followed by tiny cold drops of water dripping down your warm skin. You let out a shriek and turned to see who it was that startled you like that. You had to squint your eyes due to the sun, but it was very clear whose wide frame was standing in front of you. Sy threw a towel into the sand next to you and sat down.

“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to make you scream like that.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a cocky smirk. "Watchu reading?” He nodded at your book. 

Oh no! You definitely didn’t want to tell him about that cheesy vampire smut. “Uhm, just a fantasy novel,” you muttered under your breath, hoping that this would be enough information for him. But you weren't lucky. 

“Fantasy? Really? I read a lot of fantasy stuff myself. What is it? Maybe I have read it, too.” Sy grabbed your book from between your arms faster than you could react. He turned it to look onto the cover. 

Sy amusedly raised an eyebrow when he saw the artwork and the title. “Hu, now that is probably still on my to-read-list,” he said with a deep chuckle. 

You wished the sand under you would just swallow you, so you didn’t have to look into these beautiful ocean blue eyes next to you ever again. You were mortified! As Sy noticed you not only blushing but also turning your head away from him, he shook his head. 

“Shush, hey, I’m just joking. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” He laid your book down again onto your blanket and instead put his hand onto your shoulder. 

That was unexpected. But it felt good and somehow it made you feel more comfortable again. You turned to look into his face again and you noticed that the cheeky grin had disappeared and was replaced with a warm smile. 

“I’m Sy, by the way. But I guess someone already told you.” He looked over to Megan.

You nodded and gave him your name. “But I guess someone already told you,” you parroted him, which he answered with a smirk. “But Sy isn’t your real name, right?” you asked. Sy raised his right eyebrow and pulled up one corner of his mouth. He probably had to answer this question way too often. 

“Benjamin Jacob Syverson it is. But since there were four Ben’s in our football team we had to get creative with the nicknames.” He drew quotation marks into the air with his fingers at the word ‘creative’. “And somehow ‘Sy’ stuck with me. Even my sister calls me Sy now, which is quite stupid if you think about it.” There was that deep chuckle again that gave you goosebumps despite you lying in the warm Texas summer sun. 

Sy and you got to talk and you soon realized that he not only had a hypnotizing appeal, but he also was smart and your conversation with him just felt so easy and relaxed. Damn, you were falling hard for him. It was the second time you saw him, the first time you talked to him and there you were, totally smitten.

When Megan came back to you and practically pulled you with her into the water you were almost furious that she had interrupted your talk with Sy. But then you saw him following you into the waves and you couldn’t be mad at Megan anymore.

The rest of the day felt like a summer daydream. You were swimming, drinking, laughing. And all the time Sy was somewhere around you. In the evening Megan and Fletcher asked you to join them for a beach volleyball match. 

“We need a fourth person,” you said, looking around. 

Megan's cousin Terry came over to you. “I could join!” he suggested. But then Sy stood up and stepped between you and Terry.

“No offense, but it would be kind of unfair teaming her up with you, Terry. You would look like hobbits playing against giants. I think she needs a partner that is a little bit taller than you.” And yes, Sy looked ridiculous tall next to Terry. And broad. And sexy. 

So it was you and Sy against Fletcher and Megan. It was no surprise to you that Sy was very competitive. He went all in, throwing himself into the sand, sweat running down his bare back. You enjoyed every minute of it. In the end you won and before you could think, you found yourself jumping onto Sy, hugging him like a koala. 

He grabbed you by your thighs and chuckled. “That was worth the fight!”

In the next couple of weeks you met Sy sometimes at the bar or at gatherings with friends but to your disappointment you never got that close to him anymore like you did at that day on the beach. You were tempted to ask Fletcher for his phone number, but somehow you wanted him to make the next step. Maybe you were kind of old-fashioned but you wanted him to woo you. And so you were waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

And then there was this day in October, the sun was shining and you were driving home from your office, singing loud and wrong to your favorite songs. Ahead of you you noticed a truck standing in the dirt beside the road. The hood was open and you saw a pair of jeans leaning against the front. 

Okay, you were taught to be kind and offer help. But you were also a woman alone on an empty road. You struggled if you should stop. Reducing your speed, you carefully approached the car. And then you let out a snort when you saw who was standing at his broken truck. 

“Hey Sy, need a savior?” you asked him with a wide grin when you stopped next to him. He looked up from under the hood and answered with a surprised huff.

"I'm not sure what kind of help I need at all right now, darlin'. I thought I could fix that goddamn piece of scrap like I usually do. But it seems this time it's not that easy." Sy scrowled while scratching the back of his head with his greasy fingers.

You parked your car in front of his truck and got out to him. You leaned against the fender and looked onto the engine as if you had any idea how cars work. Well, to be honest, you looked at Sy's arms and hands that rested on some parts of which you had, of course, no idea what they were. Somehow this grime look, greasy and oily, affected you more than you would have guessed. As if you needed to be more drawn to that guy as you already were.

Sy ruttled on some cables, according to his facial expression not with any success. "Sugar, can you get into the car and try to start it?"

You climbed into the driver's cabin and adjusted the seat a good amount forward so you'd be able to get to the pedals. You turned the keys but the car just spat out some sad noises.

Sy shook his head and worked on some other cables. "Once more, please?"

You tried again but there was no change. The engine didn't start.

Sy dropped the hood shut and kicked against the tyre. "That damn marten probably munched on my cables again. I'm gonna kill that little bastard!"

He got to the driver's cabin and held out his hand. "Can you give me a ride into town, darlin'?"

"Sure!" you answered, although your voice didn't sound sure at all. You put your hand in his and jumped to the ground. But you didn't expect that fluttering feeling that suddenly hit your stomach and so you stumbled forwards. 

Sy's arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush into his embrace. You didn't even feel embarrassed as you inhaled his scent while you stayed in his arms way too long for that accidental situation.

"You okay?" he asked you when you had finally managed to take a step back.

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Yeah, I'm just awful clumsy," you told him. 

Both of you got into your car, Sy looking ridiculously big in the passenger's seat of your Toyota Yaris. You turned down the volume of the radio and talked with him for a few miles. 

"You really care for your truck, don't you?" you asked him. You had noticed that although it was an old model it was very well maintained.

Sy gave you a strange look, somehow sad. "Yes. I really hope it's just that stupid rodent again and nothing more serious. The truck was my dad's! He gave it to me on my 16th birthday. It was old even back then but it was mine." He took a deep breath before he continued. "I lost my dad half a year later. He didn't come back from Iraq."

"Oh!" Your hand reached out to his and pressed it slightly. This time you were prepared for the sensation of feeling his warmth. "I'm sorry," you said in loss of other words.

A silence fell upon you that wasn't actually uncomfortable but after some time you felt like you needed to say something.

"So, where can I drop you off? Some repair shop?" Sy shook his head.

"No, I'm just texting my cousin to go fetch the car and I'll fix it on my own. Could you please drive me home?"

You nodded and continued to drive in silence until you made it to town. Sy cleared his throat like he wanted to say something, but didn't continue. At the next crossroad you turned left. Sy turned his head to you and finally started to speak.

"You know where I live?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, although he looked more amused than surprised. Heat crept up your cheeks and ears. You felt like a stalker. Probably because you were a stalker.  Megan had pointed out his house when you were driving by a few weeks ago. And maybe you had made a little detour sometimes since then, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. 

"It's a small town." You shrugged awkwardly and luckily he didn't seem to mind.

"That's true. How'chu like it here? A little bit different than Chicago, hu?" A grin spread over his face.

"Hell, yes, but in a good way. I know people are always talking about southern hospitality, but you know, it's really true. At least here in this town. I feel so welcome, I made more friends in these few months than in Chicago in half of my life."

Sy's chest puffed out proud when he listened to you, which was really kind of cute.

"And do you enjoy the southern hospitality of someone in particular?" he asked next. You weren't quite sure if you understood that question correctly so you just blinked at him.

"Are you seeing someone?" Sy rephrased with a wink.

"Oh!" You felt stupid. "No, not like that." You hadn't even finished your sentence when Sy's smile widened across his face.

"That's good!"he said, just to correct himself in the next second. "I mean, it's not good that you don't have someone. It's good because I actually wanted to ask you out."

You felt your heart race in your chest. He really wanted to go on a date with you? Yes, that's what he had said.

"I'd love that!" you told him.

Sy didn't say anything in response but grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your palm. Though you felt like you couldn't focus on driving any longer somehow you made it to his house shortly after. 

Sy let go of your hand and you both got out of your car. With wide steps, Sy circled around the car to get to you. 

"Thanks for the ride, sugar!" He leaned down to you and gave you a kiss on your cheek. It was so gentle you almost weren't able to feel it. What a shame!

Sy pulled his mobile out of his back pocket, unlocked it and gave it to you.

"If you give me your number I'm gonna text you later. If you really want to go out with me, it is, of course." The wink he gave you made sure that he was very well aware that you wanted to. So you added your number and gave it back to him. He held the phone up, silently asking for permission to take a photo of you. You gave him a small nod. But instead of taking a picture immediately, Sy leaned forward to kiss you once more on your cheek. This time his soft lips rested longer on your skin. And while he was kissing you, he took a selfie of you two.  

"Sy!" You were too flabbergasted to really enjoy it but the feeling in your stomach told you, you really liked him being so near to you.

Sy looked at his screen grinning and held it up for you. You looked absolutely ridiculous, eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh no, please delete this. I'm looking so stupid!" you begged him, but he just chuckled and shook his head. 

"No, you're pretty as a speckled pup!"

Over the next week Sy and you had texted with each other every day and when you really had a bad day at work, he had even called you and you talked for almost two hours, feeling so much better after. 

When you met with Megan on Friday for lunch you were starting to get nervous because of the upcoming date.

"I have no idea what he's up to. He told me it's a surprise but what the hell am I supposed to wear?" You shoved your salad from one side of the plate to the other, not really eating much at all.

"Girl, calm down. Just wear some tight jeans and a top. And nice matching underwear, of course." Megan giggled as you gave her an annoyed look.

You were under the shower when you heard your mobile ring. Hastily you grabbed a towel and went to answer the phone. It was Sy. 

"Hey, handsome!" You sat down on your bed, ignoring the fact that you were still dripping wet.

"Hey!" The hesitant, almost silent answer made your heart drop. This was the sound of someone knowing they'll disappoint you soon. He changed his mind.

"Sugar, I'm so sorry. I won't be able to go out with you." There it was. You gulped, not able to say something, so Sy continued.

"I got notice that I have to leave next week. I..  There's a lot I have to get done before that. I wasn't expecting to be deployed that soon."

You still just sat there. He was leaving in a few days. You won't be able to see him for months. And he chose to cancel your date. The last chance to be with you.

"Darlin', I'm sorry. I really am." 

"It's okay, Sy. I understand." You really did. But it hurt nevertheless.

You had hoped for some texts coming from him. Some sign that he was thinking of you. 

Then you thought that maybe he wasn't able to send messages at all. But when Fletcher told you that he had gotten text messages from him you knew that this wasn't true. He just didn't want to stay in contact with you. 

Well, it's not like you two were a thing after all. You barely knew each other. 

You tried to move on, tried to forget him. Megan even managed to persuade you to go on a few blind dates with guys she thought would distract you enough. 

But nothing you did was enough to stop thinking about him. Every night you lay in your bed, thinking of the few moments you had shared or wondering what he was going through right now.

After a while you hid your heartache from your friends, even Megan was sure you were over Sy. And so no one thought it would be hard for you to come to the homecoming party your friends organized for him. But it was.

You look up to the stars, blinking the tears away that gather in the corners of your eyes. The night sky in Texas is so beautiful. But it makes you feel even smaller and insignificant. Maybe you should just go home. 

You get up but instead of just leaving, of course, you have to glance over to him again. He leans over to Fletcher, talking and gesturing. Both men share another look and then Sy walks away. He moves into your direction. Fuck!

The whole evening you pondered what you would say to him when he would come over to you. If he would come over to you.

Now your brain just feels empty. You turn around again, looking up to the sky once more. You hear his heavy footsteps approaching. And then you feel his warm hands rub over your arms.

"Damn, you're freezing, darlin'. Why dont'chu get a little closer to the fire?" His hands don't stop moving up and down your arms and he even moves closer to you and you feel the heat of his chest on your back.

"I want to look at the stars. At the fire it's too bright." 

You feel Sy nodding. You two stand there for what feels like an eternity without talking.

"You didn't say hi," he remarks after a while. 

“You didn’t say goodbye!” is your answer and you can’t hide the bitterness in your words. 

Sy inhales deeply. “I didn’t,” is all he says. Then he pulls his Hoodie over his head and gives it to you. “Here, you are shivering.” 

You don’t want to accept it, but he is right. You really are freezing. And you need to talk with Sy, give it a closure, whatever it was that you two had last year.

So you put it on. And you realize immediately that this was a fault. You take in the scent it radiates. The scent that takes you back to the moments where you were lucky enough to be near him. When he leaned down to you at Megan’s wedding, that day on the beach when you jumped into his arms, the day you stumbled into his embrace and he kissed your cheek. 

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to sit there waiting for me when we didn’t even know if this is something worth waiting for. And to be honest, I wanted to protect myself, too. I was afraid I couldn’t make it through these months if I felt more for you than I already did.”

Sy sits down on the rock, his thighs spread wide. He pulls you down to sit in between them and wraps his arms around you. 

“Didn’t help anyway. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you the whole fuckin’ time. Every hour of every day of every week of every month. Was starin’ at the stars so often. Always thought that at least they are the same, shining down on me and you. That made me feel a little bit nearer to you. And I was lookin’ at your photo all the time.” You hear his deep chuckle, although it sounds a little bit different than you know it. It has some sad undertones this time.

Of all the things he told you, you pick the most stupid thing to answer him. “Noooo, not that stupid photo, I’m looking awful in it.”

This time Sy’s chuckle is brighter, the way you know and love it. “Nope, darlin’, already told you. Pretty as a speckled pup!”

You turn your head to look at him. And at the sight of him, looking at you so soft, the fire throwing light and shadow over his face, you know it’s going to happen. You lean into him, you can feel his breath and then finally he closes the last distance and his lips brush over yours. His whiskers tickle at the corner of your mouth but you decide immediately that you love it. 

Sy grabs you at your waist and pulls you sideways onto his lap. With the new angle, he is able to pull you closer and deepen his kiss. His tongue carefully licks over your upper lip and you respond to it by opening your mouth to let him explore it. You feel like the world around you fades away and it is just Sy and you. Both of you put all the love, all the desperation you felt in the last eight months into this kiss and so your hearts are racing when you finally part your lips again, gasping for air. 

Sy stands up, carrying you bridal style without any effort. When he moves you near the fire, you notice that everyone else is gone. Sy sees the confused expression on your face and grins.

“I asked Fletcher if he could make sure to give us a little more privacy.” Sy kneels down on a blanket next to the fire and puts you down. His wide frame leans over you the next moment and his mouth is on yours again. Soon his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw and neck, finally resting on a spot under your ear where his kisses and sucks made your whole body shiver. 

He pulls his head back, looking down onto you with his eyes dark. “Are you still cold?” he asks you. 

“No, I’m feeling as good as never before,” you whisper. Your hand travels to his jaw and you run your fingers through his coarse beard. Sy leans into your touch, closing his eyes.

“I can shave it!” he tells you but you shake your head. “No, I think I like it. Missing your curls though.” you answer him while running your other hand through the soft hair on the back of his head. 

“Yeah, gonna need to grow them out again. You will need something to hold onto.” He winks at you and you can’t hold back a laugh. That’s the Sy you missed so much.

You get back to kiss each other, and soon your hands are traveling over each other's bodies. The heat of the fire and of Sy’s body gets to you and you lean up to get rid of Sy’s hoodie. Sy mirrors you and pulls his shirt over his head. You gasp at the sight of his bare chest. His shoulders are even wider than you remember and you can’t help it, you want to bite into his pecs that heave with every one of his deep breaths.

You straddle him and kiss him passionately. Sy’s hands grab your ass and he pulls you impossibly close to him. You feel him pressing against your core, hard and big, and you moan at the sensation. Sy tugs on your shirt and you help him to get it off of you. You hadn’t bothered to wear a bra and Sy grunts in appreciation as his hands cup both of your breasts. Soon he repalces one hand with his mouth and he circles your hard nipple with his tongue. “Damn, baby you are gorgeous!” he tells you and sinks back into the soft flesh of your breasts.

Then he moves, laying you down onto your back and slowly he trails a path of wet kisses down to your belly until he reaches the waistband of your jeans. His eyes move up to your face as his hands go for the button. Instead of an answer you help him open it and pull at your zipper. Sy rolls down your jeans, tugging the tight fabric until you are finally laying in front of him, only in your soaked panties. His beard tickles you as he kisses you all the way up from your ankle to your knee and then further up your thigh and you squirm under him. Soon you feel his warm breath through the lacy fabric of your underwear. 

“Please, Sy!” you beg and he answers you teasingly with a chaste kiss onto your clothed mound. “Sy! Please!” you plead once more and he finally listens. He pulls down your panties and parts your legs with his shoulders. And then his mouth is where you wanted it to be. 

Slowly, way too slowly, he licks with his tongue through your folds up to your clit. A gasp escapes your mouth when he reaches your pearl. Sy keeps playing with it, drawing circles around it, sucking it into his mouth. With his tongue flattened, he laps along your entrance and then he gets back to your clit again. When you already notice the tension in your middle build up, you feel a finger push into you.

Sy curls it to find your most sensitive spot. And when he reaches it, he adds a second finger and pumps them into you. All the while he rolls your clit between his lips. You can hardly breathe over the sensation Sy's tongue and fingers give you. You press your hips up to his mouth when your climax washes over you and you feel your whole body melt under his ministrations. And even after you come down from your high, Sy doesn’t stop moving over your now oversensitive pearl.

You wriggle under his touch. „Sy, come here!“ you tell him and pull him up to you. Droplets of your juices fall from his wet beard onto your chest when he leans over you with a wide grin.

He sinks his head down to you and kisses you frantically, building up the ache in your core again. You start to fumble on his belt. You’re impatient and want to feel him in every way possible. You had waited so long for this to happen, now you can’t wait a minute longer. But Sy takes all his time to drag this out.

Finally, you manage to undo his belt and your fingers work on the buttons of his jeans next.

“Sy!” you moan into his ear. “I want this so much. I want you.” He just growls in response. His mouth is on your neck and his hand travels down between your legs again. You are still not able to free him from his damn pants and you let out a frustrated huff. 

“Will you just already get out of these jeans and fuck me?” you almost cry out. Sy chuckles lightly. 

“Oh, baby, I will. Trust me. Just give me one minute. There’s a condom in my jacket.” He gets up and your gaze follows him as he walks to his truck. You take in how the thin layer of sweat that covers his back glistens in the light of the bonfire. It’s the hottest thing you have ever seen. 

He gets the condom and then, when he turns back to you, you have to correct yourself. THIS is the hottest thing you have ever seen: Sy walks back to the fire, and when he is towering over you, his chest glistening of sweat all the same, he opens his jeans and lets them drop into the dirt. He’s been going commando under them, so he stands there in all his glory. And because it’s Sy, he’s looking at you with his signature cocky smirk and his eyes dark with desire. 

You grab his hand and pull him down to you. Sy drops next to you and the moment he’s on the ground, you take your chance and get on top of him. You kiss him, starting on his neck, then going down over his chest and stomach and then you follow the trail of dark hair to his hard and veiny cock. You pause your movement to lick your lips and then you finally sink your mouth over the swollen head of his cock. Your tongue circles around it and Sy answers with a loud growl. 

You can’t take him fully into your mouth but you do your best to make him feel good with your lips, tongue and hand. And you feel him twitch and grow on your tongue.

“Baby, please, you need to stop or I’m not going to last. It’s been too long.” He pulls back and puts the condom into your hand. You sit up and carefully you open the package and roll the condom over his dick. 

Then you straddle him, one fist around his cock. Slowly, you guide him through your wet folds to your entrance. You stop for a second, your eyes meet, and your heart is going to burst by the sight of him, looking at you hungrily but also so soft. You sink down onto him, inch for inch and you can barely breathe at the sensation of him stretching you out. When you are seated completely, Sy leans up to you and kisses you. You hook your legs around his hips, put your arms around his neck and pull him tight. Your lips meet again as you start to roll your hips in a slow rhythm. 

Your breasts brush over his chest with every movement. You kiss over his jaw and his throat, grind your core on him as you ride him. Sy's head sinks down to your breasts, needily he sucks on your nipples while he rakes his nails over the soft skin of your back. 

After some time where you move on top of him in a slow pace, Sy loses his patience, grabs your sides and starts to thrust up to you. Now your hips are crashing together roughly as you both chase your high. Sy lets out deep moans in the same rhythm as his thrusts. One last time he pushes his hips up to you and then he comes with a rumbling groan. He holds you tight against his chest. You follow him only seconds after, just by feeling and hearing his release you reach your high, too and you ride him slowly until the shockwaves that rush through your body cease.

Sy softens the grip of his arms around you and looks at you with hooded eyes. You climb off of him and you fall onto the blanket next to Sy. Panting, both of you look at each other and just smile like idiots.

“So, can I finally take you on a date, then?” Sy asks and you both laugh.

Sequel: Something like that

[peyton-warren]

@jvanilly and @adulting-sucks

Can we get Sy and Jensen to pose for us like this? Maybe even Clay and Roque? Oh god could you imagine Idris and JDM in a shoot like this?

[ladylaviniya]

Context: I'm Australian, love Henry cavill.

So I'm rewatching Sandcastle as I pack my stuff to move because I have this idea of a cabin trope mixed in with a lil kidnapping and stockholm with Captain Syverson, he seems to be popular in the Cavill fanfic community.

And like...does Henry as Captain Syverson have a Texas Accent? He claims that he taught one of the local soldiers how to play Texan Hold Em (which is a card game right?)

I don't know the southern accents too well. So if someone can share.

Also what's his name. Fr. I know people have come up with names like Theodore and Kermit. But fr...DOES ANYONE KNOW HIS CANON FIRST NAME PLEASE!?

[gummydummy19]

Characters I write for:

Marvel:

• Steve Rogers

• Bucky Barnes

• Natasha Romanoff

• Wanda Maximoff

• Peggy Carter

• Sharon Carter

• Gamora

Stranger Things:

• Eddie Munson

• Steve Harrington

• Robin Buckley

The Witcher

• Geralt of Rivia

• Yennefer Vengerberg

Sandcastles

• Captain Syverson

Knives out

• Ransom Drysdale

Red Sea Diving Resort

• Ari Levinson

[shyinadarkplace]

Overwhelmed

Summary: Ryth has a really hard day, but her loves are there to make it better. Pairing: Taishiro x Sy x Eric x Hush x Ryth Word count Warnings: use of titles Daddy, Sir, Princess, Lil bit, Angel this is basically a fluff piece. mentions of anxiety. A/N: This is basically a fluff comfort piece that I wrote for myself but I really really like it and thought it might help others. Taishiro is a bisexual Wolf shifter. Sy is a Half-Orc loosely based on Captain Syverson from Sandcastle mostly just looks though and he is pansexual (as most orcs in my universe are). Eric is a bisexual Russian Vampire Prince. and Hush is a pansexual Human assassin. oh and Technically Ryth is high fea but none of that really matters in this story. Oh one thing that is important is that each of these males are bonded/mated to Ryth, this bonding has created a mental link between all of them. They can speak to each other mentally and they can sense emotions from each other. I try to denote when this is being used by something like through the bond or mentally. No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own I do not own __Captain Syverson or Sandcastle or Henry Cavill. also please don't steal my characters these are deeply personal and I would hate not to be able to share them with you guys.

Overwhelmed

It had already been a really long day, but when Tai came to pick her up from work she still felt she could get through a quick stop at the store. I was going pretty well until it very much wasn't. She and Tai had separated to make the trip quicker but half way through her part of the list things got crazy. Everything was too loud. Too bright. Too fast. Too slow. Buzzing blaring and bombarding her. She tries to take slow even breaths but that doesn’t seem to do much. A barrage of smells hits her. All the while her mind races . All the things she needs to do in the next few weeks, reopening worries , why was there so many of the same carts? Is that kid okay? Shit was that her ex?! No no it can’t be. Who wears heels to the market? I should draw that when I get home? What if the car breaks down?? Ugh why is the air so thick? As moments drag on she gets more and more irritated. “Ryyyy girl.” A deep calm voice instantly soothes frazzled nerves. She spins around as Tai opens his arms for her. She loses herself in him. “That’s it baby.” Slowly everything else fades as Tai holds her tight. “You alright now sweet girl.?” He asks after her heart rate slows and the smell of anxiety isn't as strong giving her a harder squeeze. “Mmm. Thought I could handle…” Tai gives her a gentle look “ Hey don’t do that honey, sometimes these things just kinda creeps up on a person. You wanted to try and push yourself while using your coping methods. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. All things considered you did really really well and I am proud of ya . Overstimulation just hit in the home stretch that’s all. Now come on let’s pay for this and go home.” Ryth smiled softly at Taishiro and nodded .

When they got in the truck. Tai sent a quick text to ensure when they got home Ry could decompress and the guys were happy to get everything ready. The whole way home he held Ryths hand as she put as much of herself against him as she could . “Tai M’really tired. Just gonna go to bed when we get home.” she whispered softly. Tai cocked an eyebrow at her “You can go to bed after you shower and eat something sweetheart.” “I don’t want to . I just want to sleep.” “I know honey, but I have to make sure you are clean and fed or tomorrow you’ll be in a rush to shower and be cranky from being too hungry.” Ryth didn’t say anything just huffed . Tai could tell she wanted to pitch a fit. Probably would have if she had the energy. When they got home Tai helped Ryth from the truck and grabbed the groceries as she trudged into the house. At the door she was greeted by Hush . She cocked her head at his mischievous grin “Hey there angel.” he says sweeping her up so her legs circle his waist. Tai chuckles at her little yelp. “ What are you doing’ hush?” He just grins. Rather than question it Ryth decided to snuggle into him . As they walk through the house she murmurs “Wanna go to sleep please.” Hush squeezes her ass. “Let me get you nice and clean first okay?” Ryth snarls her irritation rising. Hush just swats her ass hard as they enter the bathroom. “Don’t snarl at me … unless of course you’re gonna follow through?” Ryth just blushed and whispered "sorry sir" . Hush laughs softly “That’s what I thought. Now get undressed I’ll start your shower.” She just stands there feeling truly too tired to even try. Hush turns around to see his angel all droopy and looking exhausted, and it tugs at his heart. “Aww Angel. Let me help you. I’ll get you all clean and then you can rest.” Ryth just nods . Soon Hush has her under the warm water. He carefully washes her body and hair. When he’s finished he turns off the water , wrapping her in a great big warm fluffy towel as he mentally calls for Eric. Ryth gives a little churring noise “Thank you. Know s’not usually what you do appreciate it.” Ryth mumbles sleepy as Hush kisses her forehead “Your welcome angel. I just wanted to help you feel better.”

Eric comes in and smiles at the adorable scene before him. Ryth half asleep against Hush’s chest and him enjoying a moment of fulfillment. Hush looks up at him and mentally says “ I’m not usually the one who helps with this. I can see why you guys like it. She is so sweet. Even when she growls.” Eric gently picks her up and nuzzles her softly , Hush does it too. “Hey maybe we can all sleep in the big bed or out in the living room Tai can get it together.” Eric suggests and is pleased when Hush nods happily. Eric takes a moment to grip Hush at the back of his neck. Bringing him in for an embrace. Hush enjoys the moment and the contact whispering a thank you as Eric nuzzles him softly before turning and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Come on Princess. Let’s get you some comfy clothes on.” Eric says softly while tempering the urge to do the vampiric low rumble to relax her and help her sleep. “Nnn.” Ryth sniffs eyes tearing up “ I want to sleep please .” Eric almost says fuck it and let’s her sleep but remembers Tai saying she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. As quickly as he can he helps Ry in to one of his tshirts and a pair of sweats. His heart breaks a little at her sniffles. “Shhh shhh don’t cry Princess. I know you’re tired. I’m so proud of you for everything you’ve done today. You just gotta eat a bit.” Another tear slips down Ryths face “Promise?” Eric nods wiping her tear. She just lifts her arms letting Eric carry her to the kitchen where Sy is ready for her. As Eric passes her off he says “Tai is getting the big bed ready . She cried because she really is very tired .” Sy nods and Eric goes to “help hush clean the bathroom”🥵

Sy sits with Ry on his lap. “Hey there Darlin’. Daddy has some food for you. Just eat a little and then we can all go to bed okay.” Ry sniffs again but nods as her stomach growls . “Now that's my Good girl. Here open up.” Gently he feeds Ry little bits of soft warm bread with pot roast and she hums and churrrs in appreciation to tired to make words. In response Sy does the comforting rumble an Orc does only for his orclings and mate. It's only a few minutes before she has finished her portion of food. “You did so good. Come on let’s get you to bed.” Ryth nods slightly. Already mostly asleep. Sy drops the dishes in the sink and heads to the living room where Tai ,Eric and Hush have made up the big bed which is effectively a huge comfy cozy nest where they all can enjoy physical contact and watch tv. They are already in their favorite spots so Sy slides into his , Ryth ends up sprawled across him and Tai , while Eric and Hush somehow end up on either end holding her hand or calf. The guys watch some documentary and enjoy the night until sleep claims them as well. Each content and happy surrounded by warmth and love. At the center of it their little mate .

[obscure-imagines]

Syverson entered your office and the dog padded in behind him. you immediately jumped from your chair and onto the ground with open arms to hug the more than eager dog as it licked your face, “oh my gosh who is this!” you screamed.

Syverson grinned, “like her? thought you might.”

“is she for me?!” you asked in shock.

he shrugged, sitting in the chair across from your desk as he watched you playing with the dog. he sat there for a solid twenty minutes, at which point you had just lied down on the ground with the dog who had its head on top of you.

“wait, shit, im so unprofessional, are you here for a reason?” you asked, looking at Syverson.

“no its fine, you look like you’re having a great time, dont mind me, enjoy yourself alittle more.”

[mrsavery]

Hot mama

Captain Syverson x Reader

REQUEST

Summary: Based on the song Hot Mama by Trace Adkins (link)

Warnings: angst, mentions of painful labor and c-section, low self-esteem, insecure reader, extra weight, breastfeeding, dirty talk?, soft Syverson

Words: 2k

It was early Sunday morning, your husband was snoring next to you, children were sleeping in their rooms, and you tried your hardest to sleep too. Even with your eyes closed, his hand over your stomach and keeping you hot, the thoughts could not stop running around your head.

Living in a small city had its perks. It was good for raising children in a small community where everyone knew everyone, and you did not have to be afraid of something happening to your family. If you needed the help of any kind - someone to babysit, repair the roof, or deliver groceries - there was always somebody that will help you with a smile.

Yet, there were also bad things that came with it. Rumors spread faster than flu in the autumn season, everyone always had an opinion on how you should do things, what to make for dinner, how to fix the broken fence, or how to find a husband. The elderly ladies liked to place bets on who would sleep with who, who would get pregnant by whom, or when they would break up.

But the worst were housewives and single mothers. In a population of around two thousand, there weren’t many of them. They spent their days meeting up in cafes or parks and chatting about other families, mostly, talking around their backs and accenting their wrong-doing.

Last night you and Sy had gone out and gotten dinner in his favorite restaurant. It was rare for both of you to get out of the house and spent time alone, knowing that you had three small children, the oldest being only four and the youngest being six months old.

You could remember it all. 

The stares of people in the restaurant.

Their voices behind your back.

She still hasn’t lost the weight…

He is going to leave her, not his children, he is going to take care of them…

How can he still love her?

“Ignore them,” Sy had said, as soon as you had made your way to the table. “They are just jealous.”

But what if they were right?

It’s been six months since you had given birth to your youngest. The pregnancy was not easy, and you had spent most of it on bed rest, watching Netflix while Sy and your mother had done the house works and taken care of the children. You had gained extra pounds from constant sugar cravings and spending your time in bed, not able to exercise.

The labor you would never be able to forget. The pain had been stronger than in previous ones, and you had almost bled to death if doctors had not decided to perform a c-section. You remember holding Sy’s hand through it, him talking about the future of the family of five and you hoping that everything would be fine with the baby.

“This is the last one,” Sy had said, as he held his youngest in his hand. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with tears. “I do not want you to go through this again.”

Looking in a mirror, you saw a completely different person. Your body was not as fit as it was when you had met Sy years ago. There were stretch marks covering your body. Your hips were wider, and you had extra weight around your belly and thighs. You would never be the same woman again, the one your husband had fallen in love with all these years ago.

The old clothes that you wore before pregnancy did not fit you, and you had no other choice but to wear Sy’s t-shirts and track pants around the house. You did not have time to work out and take care of yourself, like going to the spa or manicure. It was hard to have time for yourself when your husband was working most of the day and you were left taking care of the children.

Sy was a perfect husband and father. He always found time to spend with kids and help you with cooking, ignoring his need for sleep. He never complained about the changes in your body, never said that you needed to change, get rid of extra weight, or start looking at yourself.

“I love you no matter what.” He had said last night, after arriving home. “You are amazing, and I could not ask for a better wife and mother of my children.” 

You loved and were proud of your body for what it had done. It had been their home for nine months, carried life and taken care of it, protected it against all the wrongs and dangers of life. It had gone through painful and endless hours-long labor to only bring a new person into this world. It produced milk to feed the small miracles in your arms and provided them with nutrients.

Yet, you never stopped wanting your “old” body back, the one before children. Seeing all those slim and fit women around you, in the grocery stores, in parks, on the streets - you were jealous of them, of their bodies. Deep inside you knew - no matter how hard you tried, you would never get that body back.

And the fear of Sy leaving you one day was also there. 

What if he decided that you were not enough for him? What if you could not satisfy him with your body anymore? What if he found someone better? Someone younger, someone without stretch marks or extra weight. Someone more beautiful…

You did not want to think of it. Seeing that it was a little after eight, you decided to get up and start making breakfast. It was hard to make Sy move his arm off your body, without him mumbling about you leaving him alone, but eventually you managed to do it.  

“Someone had to make breakfast.” You said to him, putting your legs down on the carpet.

“The breakfast can wait.” He said back and tried moving you closer to him. 

“The children cannot. I will take care of it, you can sleep.” It earned a groan from him, but Sy allowed you to get up.

You put on Sy’s old t-short and track pants over your naked body, not bothering to find any underwear,  and left the room, leaving your husband asleep in the bed. After a quick look at the two oldest ones, you found your youngest wide awake in his bed, kicking his feet.

“Good morning, baby!” He smiled, upon hearing your voice, and started to move even more actively. “Did you have a good night?” 

Your youngest one was the most active of your children, always moving around, throwing his arms and kicking his legs around, making it hard to dress him. Changing his diaper was the easiest part, compared to getting on his clothes. It took you ten minutes to get him ready.

On your way down, he started to get fussy and tried to bite your breasts through the shirt. It was a usual activity for him, signalizing that he was hungry and wanted to eat. When you sat down on the couch and moved up your shirt, he instantly pounced onto your nipple and started eating.

The living room was a mess. Children’s toys were everywhere, three dirty socks were laying under the coffee table while on it was empty boul and two mugs filled with water. Pictures on the walls were turned upside down, there was a stain on the white rug near your feet and -

“What’s on breakfast?” You heard your husband ask, as he walked down the stairs. He stopped on the last step of the stairs and looked around the messy room. “Was it here yesterday?”

You noded. “It must have been. We did not turn the light on yesterday exactly.”

“How did my mother let this happen?”

“She loves her grandchildren, and besides - our children are unstoppable.”

Sy sat down next to you and smiled at your youngest in your arms. “Enjoy while you can. Soon it will be only mine again.”

“Sy!”

“What? It’s not like he is going to eat milk for the rest of his life.” You did not say anything. “And you are one hell of a woman - beautiful, smart and extremely sexy.”

“You know it is not true.” 

“Do not let those evil women get in your brain.” 

“But they are right. I haven’t lost the extra weight that I gained with pregnancy. My body has changed, and I will never get it back, no matter how much I want it.”

“Hon,’ Sy put his fingers under your jaw and made you look at him. “You are still beautiful to me and always will be. I love how your body has changed over the years, and, truly, I do not want you to have your previous body back. Do you know why? Because this body - ” His eyes moved all over your body, just as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “This body has done wonders. It carried my children, our children, for nine months, and then endured hours in pain to only bring them into the light. Your beasts, your lovely breasts, have fed our little ones and provided them with all the nutrients they needed.

All scars and stretch marks prove that you loved me enough to agree to have children with me, to make a family with me. ” With his lips, Sy kissed away the tears that had fallen from your eyes and wrapped his arms around your shoulders to bring you closer to his body.

“To be speaking truly, I find you incredibly sexy by walking around in my clothes all the time. It turns me on, and I wanna bend you over the closest surface I can. When I see you taking care of our little monsters, it makes me want to have you pregnant all the time because I know that I have the right woman by my side.

You should not care what others think of you, and do you know why?” 

You looked at him. “Why?”

“Because the only opinion that matters is only yours. Not mine, not our children or parents - only yours.”

Sy pressed a kiss on your forehead, and you closed your eyes. You did not know before how much you needed to hear him say all those things before, for him to say that you were beautiful and sexy even after three kids.

“I will love you no matter what because you have all I ever have wanted. You have put up with my demons, fought them with me, and yet you never left. You stayed when I was at my lowest, and it made me only love you more. 

When I look at you at night, soundly sleeping against my chest, I cannot stop thanking the universe for making you fall in love with me and deciding to become my wife, my best friend, my whole life. Without you, I am nothing, [Y/N], no one.”

You were in tears from his words. Sy was not a man of many words, his actions spoke more than anything, and he never liked to talk about his feelings. His words brought tears to you and gave reassurance that he loved you and found you still sexy. You were beautiful to him.

With one hand on his rough cheek and the other around your baby, you pressed your lips to his and kissed him with all the passion you had. There wasn’t much you could say after his confession, but you could show him how you feel with your lips. Later you would show him more.

“I love you, Sy.” You said while trying to return your breathing to normal. Your youngest was unbothered by the kiss since all he cared about was getting his breakfast, just like his father.

“And I love you, do not evet doubt my love for you.” Sy smiled at you and skipped his hand over your child’s soft hair. “Do let those old cunts talk. They are only jealous, because their husbands do not love them as much as I love you, and do not fuck them every night until exhaustion with kids in near rooms.”

“Sy!”