Captain Syverson X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Can we get a captain syverson x male reader x dean winchester poly ship fic where sy comes home to his boyfriends dead asleep on the couch and wakes them up with kisses and cute shit. can turn smutty if you like.

We may get a Captain Syverson and Dean Winchester in one

Captain-Hunter Warmth

It’s always a sight for him whenever he gets to go home to his partners. You and Dean greet him with kisses, hugs and then cuddles, sometimes you both decide to do a surprise for him.

But tonight, he didn’t get any of those things as he returned home quite late. So, all he got was the faint sound of the TV going.

“(Y/N)? Dean?” Taking his shoes off and leaving his bag at the door, he walks into the lounge to see the TV’s light illuminating the room, it being the only light source.

Just as he was about to leave, he noticed that the couch was pulled out into the pullout bed. He took in the view of you and Dean cuddled up underneath the giant blanket.

Syverson presses his lips over Dean’s face, stirring the Winchester awake. Green eyes blink themselves awake to see his Captain of a boyfriend.

“Hey.” Dean reaches his arms up, wrapping themselves around Syverson’s neck. A tired smile is on his face.

“Hey, sweets.” Syverson presses his lips against Dean’s, feeling the small vibration of Dean’s hum. “How’s (Y/N)?” He mumbles against his lips before looking at your sleeping figure.

Dean places his arms back down to his sides and looks at you. “He’s good. We both missed you.”

“I’ve missed you two as well.” Syverson shuffles to stand over you, his body is leaning against the back of the couch. “Baby.” He leans more forward to press his lips against the side of your neck.

Pressing more kisses all over your face, the fluff of his face begins to stir you awake. Slowly waking up and with your eyes still closed, a hand of yours reaches up to bury itself in his beard. He feels a slight tug at it, meaning that you want him to come down.

“Let me go get changed, darlin’. I’m all sweaty.”

“Never stopped you before,” you mumbled tiredly.

Him and Dean chuckle, knowing it’s quite true.

Syverson knows that you’re not gonna let go of him, so he loosens your grip to strip out of his clothes until he’s in his underwear.

Dean moves more to the side, bringing you with him to let Syverson be on the other side of you.

Once under the covers, Syverson turns you on your side and brings your body back against his chest.

Your hand rests itself on Dean’s hip, hand tugging on his hip. He chuckles lightly, bringing his body closer to yours.

Seconds, if not, a minute later, your body has lulled itself back to sleep, loving the double heat that your boyfriends give off.

Supernatural Tags: @spnfanboy777 @acetrid

Even If You Don't Mean It - Part Three

Summary: Your reunion with Sy is just as passionate you hoped it would be, but things start to become strained when you suspect he isn't being honest with you.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 10.5k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Smut including oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, dirty talking, implied masturbation (m and f), showering together, slight praise kink, anal play (f receiving), mentions of PTSD, descriptions of PTSD, mentions of war, angst, fluff.

Part Three Warnings:

Smut including fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, intimate touching, showering together, dirty talk, slight praise kink, discussion of PTSD, insomnia, illusions to war, angst, fluff.

Authors Note:

Thanks once again to my wonderful friends and beta readers @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed . Your constant support and friendship means the world to me.

A massive thank you to @radiantheartbeat for editing you have truely lifted my writing and inspired me to be better. It has meant the world to me and I have enjoyed getting to know you through the process as well. Everyone, if you want some more great Henry content, please check out her blog here . You won’t be disappointed.

Divider made by me.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part 2 Part 4 (Coming Soon)

Sighing contentedly, you put your hand on his still panting chest and run your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. It curls slightly around your fingers, and you like the way your feminine hand looks against his masculine chest. Slowly, his breathing evens out and he takes long, deep breaths.

“I could stay like this all day,” Sy says, wistfully, and you hum to let him know you agree, “But, I should take a shower.”

“I don’t mind if you’re a little sweaty,” You kiss the still humid skin on his neck to prove it, “Your cuddles are nice.”

Sy’s head is tucked deep into your neck, his breath is hot and harsh against your cooling skin. He’s mostly still, but occasionally his lips sweep over your skin so lightly that it could barely be called a kiss. When you hear him exhale with a moan, you quickly realise that he’s not actually kissing you; he’s yawning.

Sitting up straight, you catch him in the act, with his bearded mouth wide and his nose all scrunched up, looking as tired as a Grizzly bear ready to hibernate.

“You’re tired!” you utter, as your fingers dive into his beard. You still can’t tell if you like his facial hair. His ruggedness, an obvious display of machismo, is definitely a turn on and it feels so much better than you thought it would. On the other hand, you miss seeing his perfectly sculpted jaw and his dimpled chin. The beard makes him look older too, and no one except old men wear beards anymore. Maybe he’d look good with a goatee, lots of guys were wearing those recently.

“No, just getting used to the time zones again, that’s all.”

“What time did you get to bed last night?”

“Baby, I’m fine,” Sy insists.

You consider arguing the point. You know how little sleep you got last night, and you assume Sy would have experienced something similar, not to mention the travelling he’d done all day. His eyes are a little red around the edges and he’s blinking a lot. He reminds you of a kid who’s trying to stay up to see Santa Clause, barely able to keep their eyes open, but insistent on not missing out.

“You want to take that shower now, Chewbacca?” you ask, giving Sy’s beard a little tug. You climb off his tree trunk like thighs and collect your discarded clothes.

Sy stands, following you, and grabs hold of your hand with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t like it?” he asks, bringing your hand to his chin and rubbing his whiskers on your palm. It tickles and you squirm. Smirking, he adds, “I didn’t hear any complaints earlier.”

Playfully you jerk your hand away with a giggle, “I’m not used to it is all. Never even kissed a guy with a beard before, let alone…” your face feels like it's on fire and your ears burn, “the other thing.” Now that your blood has cooled, so has your confidence.

Sy keeps smirking as he gives you an amused look and bends to pick up his clothes, “Never been eaten out by a guy with a beard?”

Oh God! A jolt of energy tingles your spine and your core clenches. Shit, just hearing him say those words gets you worked up again.

You shake your head, “Never,” you say softly.

“You liked it though, didn't ya?” Sy’s smirk turns to a full grin, and his cheeks crease into dimples just above his beard. His eyes no longer seem tired, instead they shine with roguish intent, “It’s alright, baby, you can tell me. It’ll be our li’l secret.”

You bite your lip. He is such a flirt, how had he hidden this side of himself all this time? Turning away from him you make your way down the short hallway.

“Of course I liked it,” you say a little shyly, glancing behind you to make sure Sy is following, “You know I did! You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?”

“I ain’t gonna deny that, I like hearin’ you say you enjoyed it. ‘Specially in that voice of yours,” Sy’s voice grows raspy, and his register lowers as he speaks. You feel his body behind yours as he wraps an arm around your belly and growls into your ear, “Listenin’ to you moan my name— shit, you could make a man lose his damn mind, ya know that Sugar?”

Lose his mind? If that’s the case, you aren’t going to be far behind. One turn of phrase and he can melt you. It’s been a long time since a man has had that effect on you and the only thing that stops you from being embarrassed is that it’s obvious you have a similar effect on him.

“Give me your clothes,” you say with a warble in your voice.

Sy passes you his bundle and taking his bag from the hallway, you open the door to your room.

“My bedroom,” you tell Sy. His lips seem to grow tight into a line as he sticks his head through the door while you drop his clothes and his bag on the bed.

“You ok?” you ask him as you reenter the hall.

Sy eyes you up and down as he draws his lower lip into his mouth. Whatever the look he had on his face a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by a lusty grin.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says lewdly.

Fuck. It didn't cross your mind that without the bundle of clothes to hide behind you are completely naked. You have a sudden urge to cover up despite it being completely ridiculous, he’s already seen you naked and is about to get into the shower with you. But context is everything, and casually standing naked in the hallway feels different and so much more bold.

Fighting the urge to run and hide, you try to draw out the confidence you had not fifteen minutes earlier, and you stand still for a moment to let him look. He looks at you for a long time, his eyes slowly sliding down your body, as he takes a small step closer to you. For the first time you take in his whole naked form; he is magnificent. To you, he is masculinity manifest; the powerful muscular frame, the sheer size of him, and the hair covering his body that seems to be so perfectly manicured. You can’t stop your gaze from going lower to the thicket of curly hair and the leviathan that lay there, unhidden.

Imitating Sy’s reaction, you bite your lip at the sight of him. He’s not soft, but not entirely hard and he points to the floor. His length isn't much different from when he is hard, but he gets so much thicker. You know, when that moment arrives, he’s going to fill you up and stretch you wide. You think about grabbing his hand and taking him to your bedroom instead of the bathroom, but Sy takes another step closer and rests his hand on your cheek.

“I thought you were shy or something,” Sy says, moving his thumb slowly over the apple of your cheek. You must have looked confused because he continues, “You were reluctant that one time we talked about sex on the phone. I thought you were nervous about it, or really inexperienced.”

“Are you… disappointed?”

“Are you crazy?” Sy says quickly, and you can’t help but laugh. “Don’t you know…”

Sy stops mid sentence, his brows draw low, and his tongue works over his teeth as he begins to feel you. His palms rub over your body, occasionally stopping at random spots, squeezing you there, sometimes getting a handful of flesh, sometimes bone. His eyes follow the path of his hands until he sighs with a smile and looks at you.

“You are so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Sy shakes his head, “Remember the night we met?”

You nod, “At The Baron.”

“Yeah. The second you walked in, the whole bar got quiet. It made me—”

Sy’s jaw juts out, and he holds it there a moment as he seems to stare at nothing over your shoulder. You cover his hand with yours and his face relaxes a little as you slide your hand over his forearm. He smiles a little at you, but his eyes still seem distant.

“I remember turnin’ in my chair and watchin’ you, tryin’ to get it straight in my mind what a girl like you would be doin’ in a place like The Baron.”

You laugh and go to the small closet next to the bathroom to pull out a couple of washcloths and a spare towel for Sy.

“Pre-gaming,” you tell him with a grin. He looks surprised and you shrug, “One of my friends is dating the manager, he gives us cheap drinks.”

Sy narrows his eyes, “You ain’t still goin’ there, are you?”

“Sometimes.”

Sy gives you a long, hard look with raised eyebrows, then shakes his head.

“What?”

“It’s a rough bar,” he says, “It ain’t safe.”

You wait for him to tell you not to go there anymore, but he doesn’t, and even though you can tell he wants to, he bites his tongue. There is something reassuring about the way he suggests his displeasure at the thought of you going to that bar, but restrains himself from forbidding your actions. He seems to respect your autonomy and trusts in your ability to make decisions for yourself. These little parts of him that you’re discovering are only serving to increase your attraction to him. You pull on his neck, and give him a quick kiss to let him know you approve.

“Bathroom,” you say, indicating the next door in the hall. Sy points at it and you nod, waiting for him to go in before you follow, using the towels to hide behind, “I met you at The Baron,” you point out, bringing the conversation back to the first night you met as you pass him a washcloth.

Sy grins, his cheeks crease into dimples that peek out from just above his beard. He takes the cloth and draws you into his arms, “And look where we’ve ended up.”

“As if this isn’t where you wanted to be that night.”

“Course it is,” Sy’s voice drops low again, becoming softer and deeper, “Same with every other man there that night. You were otherworldly in that bar, Sugar. As out of place as a thoroughbred ploughin’ a field,'' Sy breathes in a little shakily, as if he’s reliving the moment. His voice is husky when he speaks again, “Then you smiled in my direction… and it was like a punch that knocked the wind out of me. You were so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t breathe.”

Goosebumps break over you as your body warms and your skin stays cool. Had he really thought that? He had never indicated he felt that way before. You think back to your date. He hadn’t been anything like he was today. Yeah, his kisses had been amazing, full of passion and desire but he’d also been very respectful. He barely touched you anywhere below your shoulders, his hands only occasionally wandering to your hip.

“So,” you lick your lips, unsure if you should ask the question that’s plagued you for over a year, “Why didn’t you ask me out again?”

Sy doesn’t answer for a while, not because he’s ignoring you or trying to come up with a lie, he just seems to be thinking, wanting to make sure his words are appropriate. It strikes you suddenly that this must be how he looked when he was quiet on the phone.

“I was given my orders a couple of days after I took you out.”

That isn’t a surprise. You thought he would have been given more notice than the week before, which is when he told you he was leaving.

“I thought,” he smiles briefly, “incorrectly, that if I didn’t see you again, it’d be easier on me. I couldn’t ask ya to wait for me, not after just one date. And a girl like you wasn't gonna be single for long. I figured by the time I got back, you’d be seein’ someone else. Thought if I kept my distance and didn’t start anythin’…”

Sy steps back and runs a hand over his short hair, as if he is signalling he was done speaking. You wait a while to make sure before you speak.

“I thought you weren’t interested,” you say.

Sy looks at you shaking his head, “How on God’s green earth did ya get that idea?”

You shrug, “Look at it from my perspective. You hit on me at the bar. You get my number. You call me the next day, and take me out the following weekend. We had a great time, then we came back here and…well…”

Sy grins, “I thought that was makin’ it clear I was interested.”

“It was,” you say slowly before sighing heavily, “Then you didn't ask me out again, and that pretty much told me I wasn't going to hear from you anymore.”

Sy takes your hand in his, lifting it palm up and kissing it. His nose hovers above your wrist and he inhales deeply through his nose. He growls playfully and nips at your fingers, “God dammit, woman. This perfume of yours, what’s it called? I’m gonna buy you a lifetime supply so you never stop wearin’ it.”

Though he’s obviously trying to distract you, he’s so skillfully charming you can’t help but giggle. “Quit it, Sy!”

Sy gives your finger one more bite before he stops, but he keeps hold of your hand. He’s smiling widely, as broadly and mischievously as a school boy. He’s so attractive, but when he smiles like that, he’s dazzling; it's so stunning you forget what you were talking about before he became playful. Dazed, you turn on the shower one handed, unwilling to let him go and unsure if he would release you anyway.

Despite your small apartment, your shower is spacious, obviously designed for couples and it accommodates you both with ease. However, it turns out you don’t need much space; Sy locks his arms around you, guiding your bodies so each of you has a shoulder under the spray. You lay your heads against each other and for a while that's how you stay, wrapped in each other’s arms, the embrace as warm as the sultry, soothing water.

When you lift your head, Sy has a small smile on his lips and he leans into you, nudging his nose against yours as his beard caresses your skin. Then his lips stroke yours softly and your eyes slide closed as the sensation of his kiss makes you float away.

“I fucked up, baby. I never meant for you to feel like I'd lost interest in you,” he says. It takes you a minute to remember what he is apologising for, “I thought walkin’ away early would keep you from gettin’ hurt too.”

“So why did you call a couple of months later then?”

Sy laughed ruefully, “’Cause I’m an asshole.”

You shake your head at him with a soft chuckle.

“It’s true. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. I thought about ya so much that I couldn’t remember what I used to think about before I met you.”

If that wasn't one of the most romantic things you had ever heard, and he just said it like it was no big deal. There wasn't any emphasis or stressing the point that he was trying to be romantic. He said it like it was a fact, which only increased its impact. You’re stunned into silence, not quite understanding how Sy can be so nonchalant when he makes these little declarations of his affection for you.

Sy doesn’t seem to be expecting a reply and he guides your head to his shoulder again. With a deep, satisfied sigh, you lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist. Slowly he sways with you, a gentle rock back and forth that is just shy of dancing.

“This is nice,” you whisper, making your voice just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the spray echoing through the room. Sy hums in agreement.

“Can I wash you, Sy?” you boldly ask.

Sy has said that you’re responsive, but he really should see himself right now. His lips part as he breathes harder, and a soft flush blooms over his cheeks. Most telling though, is the feel of his cock as it jerks against your belly. He nods slowly in response.

Lathering the washcloth, you start with Sy’s chest, the dark, coarse hair suds up quickly as you sweep the cloth over his body. You wash his neck, his wide, sloped shoulders, and his thick, brawny arms, and then his taut stomach. At first, he is stiff and still, moving only his eyes as he tracks the path of your hand. Then he starts to breathe, deeper and longer, and moves his body beneath your touch, helping you by turning slightly and lifting his arms.

You gesture for him to face the other way and you wash his back, laying a chaste kiss against his spine. He’s smooth to touch and warm against your lips as you kiss between his shoulder blades. He leans into the cloth as you scrub a little harder, and makes a growl of pleasure. His skin is pale on his chest and back while his neck and arms are deeply tanned. You inventory the small scars and his perfect imperfections, trying to commit them to memory. Once again, you’re struck by how phenomenal his body is, how hulking and bullish. He looks so powerful, strong, raw, and so fucking masculine. Though you love the tender way he touches you, part of you wants to know what it would be like to feel his strength, to feel helpless in his arms, to be completely and utterly overpowered by him.

“Hmm, that's good,” Sy hums.

“Yeah?” Pressing your body against his back, you bring the soapy cloth over his ass and thighs.

“Yeah,” Sy confirms throatily.

Wrapping your arms around him, you reach between his legs, “And this?”

“Fuck!” Throwing an arm out against the tiled wall, his hips roll as your cloth covered hand moves over his now fully erect cock. You feel his hand cover yours and he guides your movements over his sex in quick, gestures.

Sy turns around swiftly and takes the cloth from your hand. You don’t understand, he seemed to be enjoying your touch and he was as hard as steel in your hand, but he pulled himself away.

Your confusion is short lived as he lathers the other washcloth and grins at you wolfishly, “My turn.”

Sy waits for you to nod before he turns you, laying his hand flat over your belly he gathers you close as he starts to wash. He leans his chin on your shoulder and watches as his hand moves over your breasts, slippery, but pleasantly rough, and your nipples harden in seconds under his languidly sensual touch.

He kisses your neck, softly and gently, dulcetly humming into your skin. Sy is so hard where he presses into you, just the feel of him makes your core throb maddingly. You ache to move and a near desperation fills you to do so, and soon you find yourself rubbing your body against his cock trying to entice him for more.

“Shh, baby. Easy,” Sy drawls in your ear.

Holy fuck. His voice is so gravelly, so coarse; and the commanding way he stills your movements by placing a firm hand on your hip, it makes you feel boneless, and your knees almost give way. Your fingers clutch at his forearm, gripping tight to hold yourself upright.

“I’m not fuckin’ you in here,” Sy tells you, then chuckles softly as you whine, “We’re just gonna wash.”

At first he is true to his word as he moves the cloth over your arms, shoulders and breasts again. Then he drops all pretence and the washcloth, which makes a splash as it falls to the tiles. His soapy hands are all over you, gliding over your skin as he teases your neck with soft brushes of his lips, his warm breath, and the constant rumble in his throat. Using his foot, he edges your feet apart and washes you gently between your legs. It’s arousing and erotic. Your body burns, but strangely your eyelids grow heavy and you lay your head against Sy’s shoulder. He hums and presses a tender kiss against your temple.

“Good girl,” Sy murmurs into your ear, “Hmm, you’re so soft.”

“You keep saying that.”

“‘Cause I keep thinkin’ it,” Sy says, “Your skin is soft, your lips are soft, your mouth is soft, and dear God your pussy,” he groans, pressing his swollen cock against you, “It's like smooth, wet, hot silk.”

You close your eyes and let your arms fall lazily at your sides, opening your body up completely for Sy, silently inviting him to take his fill. You’re well and truly clean, there’s no soap left but Sy keeps touching you, his hands moving over you with the same easy confidence he’d had earlier. You think he’s going to forget what he said about fucking you as his fingers graze teasingly over your now slick and swollen pussy.

Instead he sighs and wraps his arms around yours, effectively trapping you beneath his arms as his hands cover your breasts. He doesn’t caress you or squeeze you, he just seems content in holding you. Slowly the blazing heat he built up in you reduces to a manageable smoulder. He kisses your neck a few more times, short chaste brushes of his lips before he sighs again.

“We should get out,” Sy grumbles with obvious regret.

You don’t want to get out either, but you don’t stop him as he leaves the shower while you shut off the water. When you turn around he's holding your towel and as you step out of the cubicle he lifts it over your head and places it around your shoulders. He hums and kisses your forehead before wrapping his own towel around his waist.

“Thank you,” you say.

Sy smiles in acknowledgement and follows you to the bedroom. He ogles you as you dry off, his cock is still stiff and you pretend not to notice. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him too. More than seeing him naked, watching him towel off is strangely erotic and intimate.

A sudden longing fills you as you realise that this piece of domesticity could become normal if this thing between you and Sy can last. This yearning, for him to be with you day and night, and for him to be at home with you, it feels like he’s holding your heart on a string and each moment you’re together he tugs you closer and closer.

“Which side do you want to sleep on?” you ask, pulling on your robe. You don’t bother with underwear because you hope you won’t stay dressed long enough to need them. Sy has put on a pair of track pants with a wife beater and he looks at your bed irritably as he gnaws on his bottom lip.

“Huh?” Sy looks at you, his eyes a little wild as they dart around the room then back to the bed. He rubs a hand over his short hair, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Your heart sinks. What the hell happened in the space of a few minutes? “Why not?” you ask tersely.

“Bed’s too small.” His voice is cold and distant.

Scrunching your face up, you look at your bed. It doesn’t look too small to you. Sure, Sy is a big guy, but you had also figured there would be quite a bit of snuggling, and you certainly don’t need a lot of room for that. Besides, aren’t army beds small?

“It’s a queen,” you tell Sy, trying to refute his argument.

He grunts as you come closer, “It’s too soft,” he mumbles and you can barely hear him.

“Sy, if you don't want to spend the night with me, you don't have to make up excuses,” Although you try to bite back your agitation, it carries in your voice and Sy picks it up easily.

“That’s fucking bullshit, Sugar, and you know it,” Sy barks, his harsh tone reflecting your annoyance. He’s never spoken to you like that before and it makes you take a step back. His eyes widen as he realises how he sounded and he tempers his expression, “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I…” he cuts himself off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Something is wrong. He was allusive earlier when you had asked if he was spending the night, and you recalled that he had a similar attitude on the phone when you talked about sleeping together. At the time, you had thought it was because he wasn’t sure how far you were willing to go with him and he hadn’t wanted to pressure you, but now it all seemed suspect. Surely, he knew that you wanted to have sex at some point tonight, especially if you slept in the same bed; there was far too much sexual tension between you for it not to happen.

“I do wanna stay with you,” Sy says, drawing you into an embrace, “You gotta know I want nothing more in this world than to wake up with you in my arms.”

“Then why are you making such a big issue out of it?”

“It’s nothin’, baby… I’m just…” Sy grins at you, “I’m hungry.”

You aren't sure if you believe him. The smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes and it leaves you feeling on edge. There's something he’s not telling you, and the fact that he isn’t being open with you makes you wonder if he’s ever been honest with you at all. You return his smile with a disingenuous one of your own while your mind furiously tries to decide if you should call him out on the suspected insincerity.

You let it go, hoping that you’re just reading too much into things, “Come on then. I’ll cook you dinner.”

In the kitchen, you give Sy a beer and tell him to have a seat while you prepare dinner. He seems more relaxed now as he sits at the island bench watching you with a more genuine half-smile as you gather your utensils. Maybe he really isn't hiding anything. Shaking off your doubts, you concentrate on preparing the meal.

“We could order in if ya want,” Sy says, “I do owe you a few dinners.”

“When was the last time you had a home cooked meal with fresh food?”

“It’s been a while,” Sy admits.

“So, let me cook for you. I cook for myself, it’s not that much more to cook for you too.”

“Okay,” Sy agrees, “The offer is there though, maybe tomorrow night?”

His words make you pause momentarily as you reach for a head of lettuce in the crisper drawer. After the conversation you just had in the bedroom, his plan to see you again tomorrow seems odd. If he doesn’t want to spend the night, but still wants to see you tomorrow, why not just stay?

You continue gathering the ingredients, trying to push away the nagging uncertainties. It isn't much, just a couple of steaks and a salad but Sy’s eyes grow wide at the sight of the two beef ribeyes on the plate. You silently congratulate yourself as he stares at the food and licks his lips. Then you stifle a giggle as you realise that, sometimes, he really does look at you like you’re something to eat. Maybe that should upset you, but it doesn’t. Maybe there isn’t anything to worry about, maybe he just likes sleeping alone.

There are so many unanswered questions in your mind, you’re relieved when they dissipate as you immerse yourself in the meal prep. Sy seems content to watch you, barely making any conversation until you ask him how he likes his steak cooked.

“Medium rare,” he says, “Cooked on the outside, a little bloody in the centre.”

“You’re a man after my own heart,” you agree.

“Yes ma’am,” Sy says with a roguish grin, “Among other things,” He winks at you, well he tries to, but it’s more of an exaggerated blink.

Pressing your lips together, you hold in your laugh, feeling your face heat with the effort.

“You laughin’ at me, darlin’?” Sy asks, playfully.

You shake your head still avoiding looking at him, but he moves his head into your line of sight still wearing the same puckish smirk and you release your laughter with an embarrassing bark.

The moment of light-heartedness breaks the tension between you and you both begin to talk about what foods you like, the conversation flowing as easily as it had on the phone. You feel relieved, in the back of your mind there has always been the worry that perhaps your relationship wouldn’t be the same in person; or worse, that once sex was introduced, the friendly ease you had with each other would disappear. Of course, you are attracted to Sy and it's what made you agree to a date with him all those months ago, but it was your conversations that convinced you there was the potential for more.

Watching Sy eat was a joy unto itself. You had only ever cooked for a couple of men and none of them seemed to eat with the level of gusto he was exhibiting now. You marvel at how he could be so quick but also maintain his manners. It was like he inhaled the food rather than chewed it and he sat back nursing a second beer while you finished eating.

“Want to watch the movie?’ you ask when you are done. You look at Sy and see him staring at you, or rather through you, “Sy?”

“Sorry,” Sy says with a start. He sniffs and seems to give himself a shake, “I was… somewhere else there for a minute.”

“You alright?” you ask and it suddenly dawns on you what his problem could be. The phone calls when he was too quiet, the worry about sleeping, how distracted and far away he looked sometimes, he reminded you a little of your father, “We don't have to, we could watch something else, or we could just talk?” Please talk to me Sy, you want to add, but bite your tongue. If his problem is what you think it is, he’s probably not going to discuss it easily.

“We’ve talked a lot,” Sy says, “About everythin’, and nothin’,” he puts a hand on your face and his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, “How is it we still find things to say?”

You shrug, “There’s still so much that I don't know about you.”

“You know me, Sugar. You may not know all the details, but you know me.”

“Details are important, Sy.”

He grunts and drops his hand. He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, resting an ankle on his knee, “What kind of details are you lookin’ for?”

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. His guard has gone up again, even his eyes are narrowed and full of suspicion.

He nods and frowns slightly, looking at you with raised brows, “Are you talkin’ about my tour?”

Jesus, he’s blunt. You try not to shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare. He does not look impressed, “I mean if something’s weighing on your mind… if something’s bothering you…” You trail off as his eyes darken.

“You don’t wanna know about that shit,” He shakes his head and folds his arms across his broad chest, “I thought you’d understand that… you more than most.”

“Because of my Dad and brother?”

“Yeah. How much do you know about what goes on over there?”

Your throat feels dry and you reach for your wine, gulping it down hard and filling the glass again, “More than you’d think.”

Sy looks surprised, “Your Dad told you stories?”

“He didn’t have to tell us. He used to scream during the night,” you say, keeping your tone low, “One time he actually got me and my brother out of bed and had us in the car before Mom found us and redirected him back to bed. He was asleep with his eyes open. He’d even responded to questions.”

Sy grunts but makes no comment.

“I didn’t know at the time what was going on, but… I know now,” You inhale sharply; just revisiting that night in your mind feels like reliving the trauma, and you can’t imagine how the men in your life lived through the real thing, night after night, “I’m not telling you about my father because I understand what you might be going through, because I don’t, and I know that. I only know that he had to talk about it.”

Sy’s chest starts to heave, and he looks away from you, his jaw juts forward as he runs his tongue over his teeth. His arms drop by his side, and his ankle falls off his knee. You bring your chair closer to his, your knees almost touching. You lay your hand out palm up on his thigh. He stares at it so long that you think about taking it back, but then he sighs and takes it in his.

“What do ya want me to say, Sugar?” He asks, folding both of his hands around yours. They’re so big that just the tips of your fingers peek through.

You move to the edge of the chair to be closer to him. You want to take him in your arms, to hold him and console him. Not just for this moment, but for all of the other times you had heard the need for comfort in his voice and you were unable to provide it.

“Whatever you want to. Just know that you don’t have to hide from me Sy, I don’t scare easily.”

“Come here, baby,” Sy tugs on your hand and you stand, intending to sit on his lap like he seems to like. Instead he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his face into your belly. Immediately, that deep feminine instinct to soothe kicks in and you run your fingers over his soft, short hair.

“Shhh,” the gentle shushing noises seem to also come from that same primal urge. As you stroke his head and tenderly scratch at his neck and back, you wonder if this is another thing Sy thought about: how it would feel to have his woman hold him like this. His woman. Even if you think of yourself with that title, it's never been addressed. Like so much with Sy, you talk and talk, but so much gets left unsaid.

“I can’t sleep,” Sy says, his voice muffled, and you stop breathing, not wanting to do anything to stop his admission, “I haven't slept more than a couple of hours a night for a few weeks now,” He’s quiet for a second or two and you lean back trying to get a look at his face, but he stops you, “I can’t… please… just stay like this for me, baby.”

“Ok, Noah,” you lull.

Sy squeezes you gently, “You’ve never said my name before,” he murmurs.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do like it,” he says, his voice still a little smothered by your robe. Then he takes a deep breath and speaks clearly, “Sometimes I wake in a sweat, kicking at the blankets cause I feel… trapped, I guess.”

“That's why you don’t want to spend the night with me?”

“I haven’t slept with a woman for a long time,” he confesses, and you feel him tense before adding, “I mean I’ve had—”

“I know what you mean,” you interrupt, surprising yourself at how quickly the seed of jealousy bore fruit in your mind.

“I don’t know if I’d lash out at ya, if I’d— I don’t want to hurt you,” Sy finally raises his head and meets your eyes. Your heart skips and you’re barely able to suppress a gasp. He looks awful, and so tired; his eyes are bleary and wild and rimmed with red, “I want to spend the night with you,” he says as he stands up, keeping his arms firmly around you, “God damn, I want to so badly,” He drops his head until your noses meet, “I wanna go to bed with you every night and wake up with your pretty li’l head on my chest every mornin’.”

You smile at the thought, “I want that too, Noah.”

“I just don’t know if I can,” Sy says in a pained voice.

“Has this happened before? The nightmares, I mean?”

“Occasionally,” Sy admits, “But not like this.” He looks above your head and you worry that you’re going to lose his focus, so you hold his face between your hands and direct his gaze back to yours.

“Can we try?” you ask.

Sy frowns, and it seems like time slows as he assesses you before letting out a long breath, “Are you sure?”

“I told you Sy,” you smile a little, “You’re gonna have to do better than that to scare me off.”

Sy chuffs, a small smile appears on his face too, “Ok baby.”

His eyes drop and you sense a swift change in his mood as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. Puzzled, you follow his gaze and notice that your robe has fallen open, revealing the centre of your chest and inner curve of your breasts, down to your navel.

“Sorry,” you mumble, as you take a couple of steps back and fumbling to close the garment.

“Stop.” His words are a command and you drop your hands almost immediately.

Sy closes the short distance between you, stopping before your bodies can meet. His chest starts to expand a little faster, the air whistles through his teeth with each panting breath. With slightly shaky hands, he pulls at the belt and the knot falls apart. He looks at you briefly with narrowed eyes and a slightly open mouth before he looks down at his hands. He grips the lapels and parts the robe at your waist, opening it wide.

The tension slowly leaves his face as he takes you in and his tongue glides over his bottom lip before he draws it into his mouth and bites it. His eyes are everywhere, staring at you greedily, as though he were seeing you for the first time. There’s an open yearning to his wide eyed gaze, a vulnerability he doesn’t try to disguise. He raises his hand to your waist but stops and meets your eyes before he makes contact with you. You don’t dare move, because you fear if he keeps looking at you like he is, your legs won’t be able to hold you.

Heat.

That’s the only word you can think of as his eyes seem to want to burn through yours, and all you want in the world is to go up in flames. He doesn’t drop his gaze as he puts his hands on your waist. He’s gentle, the pads of his fingers making contact first, leading with a tender caress.

Sy hums softly as he slides the robe off of your shoulders before wrapping an arm around you. The energy between you feels like electricity arcing; he draws you in closer until your chest meets his and a jolting spark shoots down your spine, straight to your clit.

Barely suppressing a moan, you put your arms around his shoulders and bring his head into your neck. You can hear and feel his muffled groan as he nuzzles into you and tightens his arms.

“I’m gonna take you to bed,” he rasps as his lips move gently over your skin, “God, I want you. I want all of you.”

“Then take me, Sy,” you whisper because you couldn’t speak any louder if you wanted to, you’re so breathless.

Sy doesn’t wait for a second invitation, keeping an arm around you he walks you to your room. He shepherds you backwards until your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall onto the mattress with a giggle. Sy pulls his tank off as he climbs onto the bed, smiling as he sits with his back against the headboard and pulls you over him, your legs on either side of his.

The sun is starting to set and brilliant red and orange light seeps through your curtains and hits Sy’s face just right. You stare at him, struck by how handsome he is. His cheekbones are so perfectly highlighted by his beard, and although his skin is marred by scars, it only adds to his rugged perfection.

“What are you lookin’ at, baby?” he asks slowly, drawing your attention to his lips that are stretched into a gentle smile. Now they are perfect. Big enough to suit his face, and so surprisingly soft. Without conscious thought, your thumb sweeps gently over them and he chases it with his teeth, giving you a delicate nip and a kiss.

“Just you,” You keep your voice low too, like any loud noise would break the spell of this moment, “You’re so good looking.”

Sy holds your hand to his lips and kisses your palm, “I could say the same about you, but it wouldn’t do you justice… you’re so much more than ‘good looking’.”

“Sy,” you shake your head, you can feel your cheeks heating, “I–”

He shuts you up with a kiss, lips firm against your mouth. His arms tighten around you and he rolls you over onto your back, “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs emphatically as his hand moves down the side of your body with a tender touch. His hand is hesitant as he sweeps it over your belly, and his voice shakes ever so slightly, “I told you, I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you.”

His fingers trace the curve of your breast, and your nipples tighten as his touch sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine. Sy bites his lip as he watches your reactions.

“I wanna know all the ways I can make you tremble like that. I’m gonna take you every way I know how. I’m gonna make love to you, and I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t breathe. I want you on top of me and under me. I want you on your fuckin’ knees,” he growls, and for a moment you think that’s exactly what he’s going to do. His eyes are wild and hungry, like he’s doing everything he can not to flip you onto your stomach and take you from behind.

Instead he lowers his head to your breasts, taking you into his soft, warm mouth. He peers at you from beneath his brows as he moves to your other breast and his tongue comes out to circle your nipple slowly, his breath cooling the wetness he leaves behind. With a faint moan he draws the tight bud into his mouth, and you gasp as you feel his fingers caressing higher on your inner thigh.

“Open for me baby, let me touch you.”

Your legs part without any thought, it's nearly embarrassing how quickly you obey. But you’re ready for him, so ready, and you want him to know it.

“A little more,” he shifts his weight, giving your legs more room, “That’s it. That’s what I want.”

His fingers keep moving higher, and your thighs quake in anticipation. You drop your head back to the pillow, closing your eyes. God he’s so much, how does he know just what to say, just how to touch you to make you so malleable?

Then he’s on you, his hand is between your legs and the heat of his skin burns your already hot centre.

“Oh God, you’re so wet! So soft and warm,” he moans, burying his head into your chest. Your body surges and your hips move against his palm, “Oh fuck, you’re killin’ me here, baby.”

His teeth sink softly into the flesh of your breast as his finger slips inside you followed swiftly by a second. You hold on to him, gripping his forearm tight, holding him inside you as you rock against his palm, and his mouth moves over your body.

Sy moves behind you, tucking your body in close. Lifting your leg over his and wrapping an arm around your waist, he presses his hardness against your undulating body, grinding and rocking with you. He crushes his mouth against your ear, his beard and lips scratching at your sensitive skin.

“Baby, look at you move, you’re so close ain’t ya? I can feel ya squeezing my fingers. You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ hard.”

You moan, reaching behind you to pull his hips closer to yours. You close your eyes, focussing on the feeling of his fingers, his hot breath on your neck, and his cock rubbing against your ass.

Sy hums, “You like the way my cock feels, don't ya?” Even though you know it's a rhetorical question, you nod emphatically, “Soon as you come, baby, I’m gonna be inside you. God, you’re gonna feel amazing, I’m gonna make it feel so good for you.”

His fingers slide out of your core and press against your clit and your hips buck as you cry out. He growls, the arm around your waist tightens and his teeth sink into your ear. He’s suddenly rough with you, his kiss is full of harsh need, all sucking and biting, and he holds you so tight you can barely breathe. His raw power is so potent, but his touch between your legs is still so gentle where he moves over your clit.

“Sy, I…” you stutter, panting so hard you can’t make the words form.

His arm leaves your waist, fingers sliding up to your cheek to turn your face to his, “Call me Noah, baby,” he kisses you and keeps your face close to his, his voice just a whisper, “I want you to call me Noah.”

You bring your hand to his bearded cheek as you teeter on the edge of your release, “You’re going to make me come, Noah.”

“Good girl. That’s all I want, baby. Do it, come, I want it.”

You close your eyes, so, so close.

“Look at me, I wanna see, I…”

You open your eyes, but barely. You feel intoxicated, so high you could touch the ceiling. Then whatever was holding you up falls away and your body explodes as warmth floods you. Your eyes slide shut again and you can barely hear Sy’s whispered praise.

“That's good, baby. You're so good for me…so beautiful…so fucking perfect,” His kisses move down your neck and across your shoulders as you come back into your body. Still tingling with warmth, your skin feels so sensitive, each brush of his lips stokes the heat in you and you know you must have more of him.

You roll over in his arms and kiss him, letting your hand slide over his head and neck like he enjoys. You thought he’d already be pushing himself into you; he feels so hard and ready. Instead, he moves under your hand like a puppy who wants pats, guiding your touch to where he wants it as he presses his face between your breasts with a groan.

Then, quite suddenly, he pushes you onto your back, rising between your legs until you feel the hardness between his, pressing against your hot center. He’s so heavy above you, but you like it; you want to feel his weight, feel how open you are beneath him as he spreads your legs wide to accommodate his body. He kisses his way back up to your neck, trailing his lips over your throat and jaw.

“Noah,” you murmur, and you squirm beneath him, feeling the length of him slide easily between your slick and swollen slit.

Sy hisses in your ear, then pulls his hips away with a curse.

“Shit, I… do I need a condom?” he asks.

“You’ve been tested, right?” you ask, knowing your brother is tested after every deployment, “And I’m on birth control.”

“Yeah, I have, but I’ll wear one if you want me to.”

“I trust you, Noah,” you tell him sweetly and matter-of-factly.

His brows come together and he looks away, his jaw is hard and you can see the muscles clenching. His chest pumps harder and you feel his already rock-hard cock pulsing against your thigh. He looks at you and lowers himself back down until his weight is on you again, holding his head above yours. His eyes glisten, and you wonder if he is going to cry.

“Are you…”

“Baby, I…” he sighs and leans on his elbows while his fingers stroke your hair, “I’m in so deep with you. You know that right?” Your furrowed brows must have been an answer because he continued, “I’m in so fuckin’ deep, I can barely see the surface.”

Your eyes widen, you’re not stupid, you know what he’s trying to say. Suddenly, your chest becomes tight and tears sting your eyes, “Noah–”

His mouth covers yours, “Don’t say anythin’,” he says into your mouth, “you don't need to, just kiss me.”

And that’s what you do, letting your need for him speak through the hard collision of your lips and the soft insistence of your tongue. Your desire for him is as strong as his is for you. You’re in just as deep as he is and you don’t even try to hide it.

As if of one mind, you each reach a hand between your bodies for his cock. You both let out a short laugh, and instantly you’re nervous again.

“Sorry,” you apologise shily.

Sy shakes his head, “It’s okay. Here,” he takes your hand in his and places it around his length. He moves your hand over him and whispers, “Together.”

You nod and suddenly you’re both serious, eyes locked onto the one another, your breaths coming hard and fast. The silky, soft skin of Sy’s dick slides over your slick folds and your eyes flutter closed with a gasp as his head brushes your clit.

“Look at me baby,” Sy urges and you open your eyes, “Keep lookin’ at me. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

His hand tightens around yours as he guides himself into your core, and you inhale sharply as he slides in, inch by blissful inch. Your eyes widen as you feel the pressure of him sinking into you, and you squeeze his hand as your pussy stretches to welcomely accommodate his girth.

“Oh, fuck,” Sy groans as your bodies meet, lifting your hand off of him and lacing his fingers in yours as he pins your hand against the mattress above your head. He swells within you, filling you, owning you so completely that you don’t know how you ever felt satisfied before him. He kisses your mouth and chin, cheeks and neck, but he still hasn’t moved, his hardness bound within you.

His free hand clutches at your hip like he wants to be deeper than he already is, and his face tightens as he huffs his breaths like a bull, nearly snorting through his flaring nose. Holding his weight on his elbows he moves his free hand to caress your face, he’s so gentle, despite how much he wants you. You feel like he’s holding back, he seems so tense, and you want to tell him to let go and be wild, but— God you want him like this too! His tender touches make your heart skip like the needle jumping on a record. You run your hand up his arm and shoulder and lay it against his fur, watching the billowing of his chest with each panting breath.

“You’re so…” Sy says before slamming his mouth shut and with a low growl, and pressing his lips to yours. His kiss is intense, urgent and needful, with no finesse at all. His lips move roughly over yours, opening them, licking and sinking his teeth into the flesh of your lower lip. Then he moves and it feels like satin gliding over your silken walls. You feel him everywhere, like he’s invaded every cell of your being as his body rolls above yours in a powerful, yet gentle rhythm, so different to the way his lips are moving.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, so… so… fuck! You’re everything, Sugar. You’re everything.”

You kiss him with an intensity to match his, neither of you are holding back now, you need him so desperately.You tug your hand out from beneath his, grabbing at his back, feeling the way his spine rolls and his muscles ripple as he undulates above you. His skin is searingly hot and you pull on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around him, craving a closer proximity to all of that heat, all of that muscle, and all of that raw power.

“More,” you implore, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his ass, “I need more.”

“Like this,” he growls, his voice rumbling like an engine, deep and throaty. He keeps the same easy flow but pushes into you with a hard grunt.

“God, yes,” you moan as your back arches.

Your body catches his new rhythm and you move together, eyes firmly locked on each other, neither of you can look away. How can it be like this? How can it feel this good when it’s never been like this with anyone else. Suddenly, all of those months of waiting, all of the worry and build up, come crashing down over you. Your vision blurs and you can’t blink fast enough to stop the tears from falling.

“Sugar, I…”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, pulling on his neck until his whole body rests on yours. “Please— please don't stop,” You kiss him hard, begging him with your mouth, demanding more with your hips.

“Shit, baby, I don’t know if I should…” You close your eyes with a shuddering moan, and feel the rough pads of his thumbs wipe at the tears that spill over your temples. Sy groans, and drops his head into your neck, his arms wrap around your back, “It’s okay, you’re good. I'm here, I’ve got you,” he mumbles as his lips gently kiss along the side of your neck.

Sy slides an arm further up your back and cradles the back of your head, while the other lifts your leg, holding it under his arm. Oh God! He moves, pushing so much deeper, and he’s hitting that spot that makes you go wild. Your fingers dig into his neck and back, his skin is slick with sweat and he wipes his face against his arm before he leans over you, pressing his forehead against yours.

You feel the soft pillows of his lips skim over your face, gliding over the planes of your skin as he mumbles your name, so softly you’re not even sure he said it. You open your eyes and you feel him as you’re held by his gaze, you feel his love, his passion, his need. And as he whispers your name again, you feel him so profoundly that it seems as though he has seeped into the marrow of your bones.

You’re close to your peak, and you cry out wordlessly as your body pulls tighter and tighter, “Noah, I’m…” you're so breathless, panting, you can't even say it.

“It's okay baby, let it happen, I want it. Give yourself to me, come on my cock. I wanna feel you, I fuckin’ want it all, give it to me, Sugar,” Sy grunts out his encouragement through hard gritted teeth. His head pushes so hard against yours it almost hurts, but his thumb strokes your cheek softly and his fingers move over your neck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as that welcome and familiar tightening grows in your gut. You know you must be close to shouting, but all you can hear is Sy’s muttered urgings, the slap of your bodies colliding with one another, and the rustle of the pillow beneath your head as Sy pushes you further up the bed with each thrust.

“Christ, look at you, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, so fuckin’ hot,” Sy whispers before his tongue slides over your parted lips, “Come for me, baby. God, I wanna feel you.”

You kiss him, clumsy and desperate, clutching him closer and tighter, not letting go until you crest your peak and fall into your orgasm. Waves of pleasure make your whole body contract and release, you can feel your core tighten around him, feel him as he keeps fucking you through your climax and the little, shivering aftershocks that ripple through you as he hits that spot again and again.

He doesn't stop, doesn’t slow down, if anything, he’s going harder than before. His arms slide under yours and he grabs your shoulders in his hands using them for leverage. His eyes stay on yours until he can’t hold back anymore and he swears, his lip rising into a snarl before he throws his head back with a deep primal growl. You’re awestruck as his neck fills with tension, rivulets of sweat run down his reddening skin and the muscles tighten, tendons and veins popping as he strains with effort. Your already stretched core is spread wide again and you cry out as you feel him thicken and release into you.

Then he stills, his head drops back to your neck and his hot, panting breath roars in your ear. For a moment, you feel all his weight as he pulls an arm out from behind your back and searches until he finds your hand, slipping his fingers between yours. With a hum you squeeze his hand and using your free arm and both legs you hug him, and Sy chuckles softly.

His laugh makes you grin and his kiss on your neck makes you want to melt for him all over again. “God damn,” he murmurs. You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed and a Cheshire grin has spread across his face. You kiss his lips, and his eyes open, his smile widening until a dimple creases his cheek.

“Yeah,” you say, “God damn.”

For a while you both lay there looking at each other while you catch your breath. Sy’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you bring it to your lips giving it a lingering kiss.

Sy closes his eyes and kisses your cheek. His slowly softening cock falls from your core as he rolls onto his back and you protest with a whine.

“Don't worry, I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he says, pulling you into the crook of his arm. You smile and rest your head on his shoulder, your fingers are drawn to his chest hair like there's a magnetic pull. Although wet and matted by sweat and friction, it’s still comforting as your fingers comb through the coarse curls and you close your eyes. Sy yawns, and you imagine his eyes have closed too as his fingers lazily dance up and down over your arm.

Not wanting to imagine it, you lift your head and rest your chin on his chest. Sure enough, his eyes are closed, the muscles in his face seem to be at rest and you stay there, transfixed, watching as he seems to flirt with the edge of consciousness. Soon his fingers stop their caress and his hand falls limply over your arm, presumably asleep.

There’s a part of you that is still disbelieving of his presence here, that you’d actually just had sex. You felt like if you fell asleep now, you would awake to find it had all been a dream. You fight the urge to trace the lines of his features: the straight, but bumpy nose, the strong, prominent brows, the high, chiseled cheekbones, and those soft, plush lips. Instead you rest your head back onto his shoulder and watch him slumber peacefully, enjoying your uninterrupted study of him.

With a rumble in the back of his throat, Sy opens his eyes with a start, eyes wild and rolling in his head before they quickly settle on you. He sniffs as he takes a second to get his bearings then rolls onto his side, pulling you in close with an exaggerated grunt and a squeeze.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to doze off,” his voice is husky and deep with the remnants of sex and sleep.

“Would you just admit that you’re tired, Sy?” you say teasingly.

He chuckles. He’s got you so close to him, tucked in so tight, that his chin hits the top of your head when he speaks, “I am tired, baby.”

“C’mon, get under the blankets with me.”

You can feel him swallow against your forehead, “I’d like to shower first,” he says.

You kiss his still damp chest. “I told you, I don’t mind you being a little sweaty.”

“Darlin’, I’ve spent about 12 months without a proper shower. I’m gonna take one every chance I get,” he reveals and you can hear a grin in his voice.

“That's fair. Want me to come too?”

“It's ok, I’ll be quick.”

“What I should have said is, I want to come too.”

The shower is much quicker this time, Sy washes himself so fast that he was almost done by the time you finished fussing and got in. Through the frosted door, you see him wrap a towel around his waist and leave the bathroom, coming back with a toothbrush. Finishing just as he returns, you towel off and join him at the sink, the two of you brushing your teeth together.

You both keep looking at one another through the mirror, smiling at each other. Sy grins and gently bumps your shoulder with his, you shake your head with a silent chuckle then lean over the sink to spit out your excess paste.

As you straighten and lift your gaze, it's as if you’ve had a vision, deja vu. In that moment, it was as if the two of you had done this a million times before. Standing here together, preparing for bed at the end of the day, like it was your normal, natural, routine. With a sudden clarity, you could see it, your future with him became crystalised, set in stone, and you wanted this to be your life forever.

Kitten and Grizzly

Summary: Sy finds out what his kitten really wants

Word count: 941

Warnings: mentions of primal play, mentions of masturbation

What Sy held in his hands was not what he had expected. Not quite. He thought his kitten would read tearjerkers.

She rarely allowed this form of girly hobby in front of other people. Hid them outright. He remembered once coming home from a binge earlier than he thought because one of his friends had broken his leg and finding her on the sofa watching Bridgerton. Her cheeks flushed abruptly, but she just said, "Shut up." and turned back to the TV.

He had sat silently watching along with her. Actually, he shouldn't say something like that, but he liked the show. So when the second season came out, he just turned it on for their weekly movie night and pressed (y/n) against him. "I want to see what happens to Eloise," he shrugged.

They were both treating it like their little secret.

So he would have expected that this secrecy around her Kindle was simply related to the fact that she just preferred to keep this girly preference to herself. Without comment from the outside.

But when the little device was switched on and lying forgotten on the bed and he read the first sentence of the page, he realized that he had been mistaken.

He wasn't stupid. He had heard of Fifty Shades and had also seen the movie, but it had amused her rather than being a serious read.

But after what he had now read, he realized why. Fifty Shades was probably rather laughable against this. Before he knew it, he was lying on the bed, immersed in this new world. Got to know a whole different side of his kitten. Neither of them were prudes, but she had never been so explicit about what interested her. Was she actually interested, or was this just a more outlandish outing for once? He hesitated, but then looked at the considerable library on the device.

He read through the summaries and some reviews. One theme seemed to run through. Primal Play.

He memorized a few titles and put the Kindle back in its place as he had found it, only this time turned off.

He said nothing about it for now. The next few days, when his kitten was at work, he spent reading more and more of the books he had found. Not only once did he have to interrupt himself to get relief. If she liked that sort of thing, he was definitely into it.

Little fantasies crept into his head. How he caught her. Burying her underneath him. How she would live up to her nickname and scratch his back until red streaks decorated the skin. How he would growl when she bit him as hard as she could. Animalistic lust.

He wanted it. He wanted her. He wanted her that way.

He needed to talk to her. Today.

He waited until they were lying on the sofa together, watching a horror movie.

He cleared his throat hesitantly. "Kitten we need to talk," he began. She broke away from his embrace and looked at him uncertainly.

He looked back uncertainly. "First... It's important to me that you know I didn't WANT to snoop," he began, holding his index finger up to her nose. "But your Kindle was on the bed, turned on, and I picked up a phrase and then I just couldn't stop." He looked at her searchingly. She let no emotion flit across her face. Her walls completely intact and set on a defensive course.

He sighed. "Why didn't you ever say you liked that kind of thing?" He stroked her calf gently with his thumb. She shrugged her shoulders. "Kitten. Come on. If there's one thing I can say, it's that these ideas don't leave me cold, and I really, really want to hunt you." He grinned at her, but that grin fell from his face as she got up and left.

"Kitten!" he called after her, following immediately.

"Sy. This isn't going to work." she sighed still walking.

He grabbed her wrist and held it tightly. "Why?"

She slumped her shoulders. "Because my head won't cooperate," she sighed.

Sy was confused. She let her back fall against his chest. He held her tightly. "It's not about the hunting," she began. "It's... In the books... It's just feelings and actions. It's no thoughts. It's not overthinking. It... Damn you know me Sy. I always think about everything way too long until my thoughts are no longer thoughts. It... I want someone to rip this burden out off my mind. I don't want to have to think. I want to be able to just be, if only for a short time, but I can't. And I never will be able to. All I have left are the books." She literally fell against him. "If you want to chase me through the forest like Little Red Riding Hood, we can do that. But that's not really what this is about for me."

He turned her around and she dropped against his chest in surrender. He just held her close and stroked the back of her head.

"I just want you to feel good," he mumbled softly.

"I want to. But I'm afraid that if I do, I'll just be disappointed.", she murmured humbly into his chest. "After all, you're made for this.", she said and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Sy grinned. "I'll be your grizzly if you stay my kitten."

She sighed. "We'll try."

He smiled and continued stroking her hair. "You just wait kitten. I've managed to handle a few other missions."

She smacked his chest.

They laughed.

Exhausted Bug

Summary: Sy's girl (autistic!reader) is near a breakdown. Luckly, he knows what is coming and what to do.

Warnings: autistic burnout symptoms, use of (y/n)

Word count: 557

Author's note: I describe here how I feel when I am exhausted. This is not a general behavior of all autistic people, if of anyone else at all. Everyone is different. I am not officially diagnosed, but have shamelessly self-diagnosed myself until I can get my hands on the oficial diagnosis.

Please be gentle.

The moment as they sat in the car, Sy realized what was up. (y/n) was silent. No comments about the evening. She said nothing and looked out the window, exhausted. Her eyes seemed almost dull. He hated it when she was like that.

They were invited to a family birthday party. Often she handled these pretty fine, but lately she'd been under a lot of stress at work, hadn't slept much, and somehow one social gathering followed another. Long story short. She was near a breakdown.

He watched her scratch the little bit of callus on her middle finger over and over again with the fingernail of her thumb. He turned off the radio and drove on.

Tomorrow, despite her exhaustion, she would get up as early as her body would allow. She would prepare her food for the week. She would exercise and do the things around the house that she hadn't gotten done during the week. She would make a quick lunch and then lie down on the sofa to sleep for half an hour. From that point on, her body would catch up with her.

Her power nap usually went on for at least 2 hours, often longer. When she woke up, it would take her at least 30 minutes to even peel herself off the sofa, but often it would take almost a full hour.

From then on, she would get nervous. She wanted to have time for her hobbies and now she didn't think it was worth starting anything at all.

Sy knew the procedure. He had already made sure that they would not have visitors tomorrow, nor would anyone call. He would take Aika to dog training and then go to his brother's gym, although he had his little home studio in the basement so she would have the house to herself. He had left food in the fridge to warm up and checked to make sure her headphones were charged as well. By the time he would return from his workout, she would be long asleep.

He would put water and snacks next to the sofa to make it easier for her to wake up. He knew her current projects to direct her attention to one that wouldn't overwhelm her, to help her relax.

Sy was a planner and a doer. He wasn't the biggest romantic in the world, but he knew what (y/n) needed. He didn't judge her for her quirks, just as she didn't judge him.

He didn't comment on the fact that right when they would arrive home, she would go to a separate room to walk in circles while listening to music. He knew it relaxed her. He knew she would never say anything when he woke up in the middle of the night again and locked himself in his workout room until the images of his nightmare blurred and he was tired enough to sleep again. Or that he had to check the house's security system at least three times in the evening before he could go to bed.

They were an unlikely pair, but they worked together. He wanted his little bug to be happy. No matter what it took to make that happen. Diamond jewelry, or as in her case, an oversized sweater of his and a few rounds in her daydream room.

Sy x Reader: make me your future history (One Shot)

Plot: You come back home and find everything you looked for in a quiet man who curses too much and his grumpy animals.

Tags: smut, fluff, cursing, my poor attempt of southern accent, mental health issues, eating disorder (implied), short fake dating, 9k+ words, minors dni

[A/N: AAAAAH I hope you like it <3]

“Home sweet home, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at your father’s attempt at being funny.

In all the time you spent running away from your past you had never thought the time would come that you would be coming back home. The image of you in your blood black bodycon dress, white trench coat, and Louboutins would be comical to anyone who passes by your humble childhood home -- complete with the vegetable garden, pesky bees, and cat shit from the grumpy fucker your late mother used to call a pet.

“Lovely.”

“Oh, don’t be such a snob, pumpkin.”

“Dad!” you shrieked, looking behind you as if on instinct, terrified of the judgemental eyes of your peers at the absurd nickname your father used to call you when you were young. But the only thing that greeted you was the emptiness of the sidewalk, the distant mountains, and a lost sheep wandering around your fields.

You were definitely no longer in Los Angeles.

“Come on, now,” he called, carrying the last of your luggage up the short dirt path towards the front door. “Let’s get you cleaned up out of that ominous dress.”

You gawked, looking down at yourself as if to check if the two of you were seeing the same thousand dollar designer dress. But when you looked up your father was already chuckling, clearly just teasing.

“For your information, this is Vera Wang!”

“You look like that mean lady Cruella!” he screamed at his back, laughter getting louder by the second as you stomped your heel behind him.

“Better hide, Stanley,” he rubbed the head of the feline, pressing a kiss at the top of its head. “She might skin you for your fur.”

“Dad!”

“Hiss!”

“Shit!”

You kicked the pebble that made you trip, cursing out this poor town and their seeming ignorance of cemented roads. Your father had woken up with a bit of pain in his back and unfortunately, it would seem he had run out of painkillers so you had agreed to run a quick trip to the town and get some medicine for him in the pharmacy after nearly breaking your back yourself while doing his chores for the morning by feeding all the animals and cooking meals for the both of you.

It’s been a while but you managed. However, you still weren’t quite sure if it’s comforting how you still somehow knew your way ‘round the little farm. You thought for sure you had killed the little country girl in you as you bathed in the limelight of the big city.

“God this place hasn’t changed.”

The brick buildings used to intimidate you. The young farm-girl who knew nothing of the glitz and glamour of the city, that could only come to the main town when it was her birthday and she manages to drag her mother to buy her dresses and lipstick. It’s times like this that you miss her a bit more than usual.

You had wanted to buy your father a house in the town, even one in Los Angeles and be near you and better doctors. But he had declined. He planned to take care of the home he and your mother had built from the ground up. So you did the best you could and just made sure his bank account remained hefty, even got him that model of the truck he liked so much to make his trip to the town and back easier.

Unfortunately for you, you can’t drive a manual car to save your life. You had been whisked off by modelling scouts before your father could teach you and by the time you were settled in your own apartment, you had been successful enough in your career to afford an automatic.

“Hi, I called about an hour ago for some painkillers?”

The young lady behind the counter seemed to have recognized you (probably from the many magazines you posed for), the guppy wide-eyed look is always a dead giveaway but you hoped she wouldn’t make a big fess out of it. “Yes! Yes, I’ll get it right now, miss!”

“Aah! Looks like that old bastard’s pumpkin has come back.”

You looked behind the girl at the counter to see your father’s old friend coming out from the back room. Despite his whooping cough and weakening lungs, it would seem Mr. Jones could never kill that dangerous habit of his.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you greeted, letting yourself be wrapped in the smell of tobacco and coffee as he hugged you. You weren’t too fond of the nosy people in this town but Mr. Jones had been an old family friend, and like a second father to you. “It’s good to see you doing well.”

“Well, can’t have your pops beat me. We had a bet.”

You smiled, “That’s quite a bright way of keeping your strength up, Mr. Jones.”

He guffawed, rubbing your shoulders as he took the medicine in the pharmacist's hand and gave it to you. “You can say that --”

“Old man!”

The door slammed, the bell above it ringing so loudly but it was the booming voice that had made everyone in the small space jump. Mr. Jones only groaned in annoyance, nose flaring up. Pushing the paper bag in your hand he raised his cane, pointing it accusingly to the person who just went inside.

“Goddamnit Sy! How many times do I gotta tell you to learn how to open doors gently!”

The loud man’s entire body was hidden by the racks of goodies to pick up -- magazines, chips, and the likes. His face was barely visible by the shadow his cowboy hat set on it, the rest of it hidden behind his unkempt bushy beard. He has grown, but the years seemed to have been kind. A little rough maybe … but still kind.

“Layla needs the vitamins I asked for last week. Pregnancy is making that one act like a real ass.”

“Watch your language, we have a lady in here!” Mr. Jones pointed at you with his cane, making your eyes widen when the hulking man turned to you. He was huffing, chest moving up and down, nearly bursting its top buttons from the stretch. Sweat making the skin on his folded up sleeves sheen and small bits of dirt and dust sticking in his cheek. Yet his steel gaze still shot an arrow in your heart like you weren’t the confident model you had built yourself up to be. Time turning and turning until you were nothing more but a lovestruck freshman drooling over the senior.

Logan Syverson.

“H-Hi Syverson,” you raised a hand, but in your panic, you forgot to wave, hands freezing mid-air.

His eyes lingered, raking down your form that you had silently cursed yourself for not getting done up before you left the house. You just had to meet Syverson now of all days!

“Miss,” he tipped his hat, smiling at you. Though you doubt it would be considered one as he barely lifted his lips at all. “How’s your father?”

“H-He, uh,” you realized your hand was still raised and awkwardly scratched your head. “He’s fine.”

“And you?”

You realized he had asked you a follow-up question a few seconds too late. “I’m fine.”

This time he smiled a bit bigger, a firm line spreading across his face and making crinkles in his eyes that was definitely not back there before in your high school appear. “That’s good.”

Someone behind the two of you scoffed.

“That’s good?! This is why you ain’t never been married, son.”

Sy rolled his eyes, sighing, flawlessly catching the bag of presumable vitamins he came in the store for “I told you to stay out my business, old man.”

“What, so I want adorable children, running around here, calling me pops and not old man? Is that a crime?”

He laughed, a real guffaw. Removing his hat to point it at the old man. “You’re not making me your stud, Stan.”

“Bah!”

“And get off that damn tobacco! That shit’s gonna kill you someday!”

He came out, the same way he came in: like an eye of the storm. The store was suddenly a bit too quiet now that his unforgiving presence was gone. The type of storm that steals your breath away, traps you in and fool you into thinking it was calm, just to see something wild and dangerous brewing on the horizon.

God, he was still so fucking hot.

“Thank you, Stan! I’ll send dad your best wishes!”

You waved at the man goodbye, holding on to the paper bag tightly. And you were glad you did so when you turned to the road and saw Syverson leaning on his truck and looking at you, you didn’t drop the package to the ground.

“S-Sy!”

He moved with surprising agility and grace for a man his size, so quick you would’ve missed him if you blinked but his heavy footsteps made you audibly swallow the pooling saliva in your mouth lest you choke on it.

“Took you a while to get out,” he took one last inhale on the same camel cigarette he had scolded Mr Jones for using, throwing it down on the ground to step on it with his heavy boots.

Your eyes widened, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe at his close proximity, “I … I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were -- did you need anything?”

You have been interviewed by pushy friends and intimidating bosses but nothing had made you sweat more than how his steely gaze does. Or maybe it could just be the summer heat.

“No,” he gently opened his palm, cocking his head at the package in your hand. Despite your confusion, you gave it to him and followed mindlessly as he went and opened the door to the passenger seat. “But I couldn’t leave a lady like you walking in this heat. My ma would crawl out of her grave, bless her soul.”

“Oh! Oh no, i-i’m fine …” your voice wavered as he raised an eyebrow at you, tossing the bag of medicines and vitamins in the leather seat of the massive truck.

“I’ll help you up.”

He gave no more room for argument, letting you walk to the monstrosity that was his truck and guided you with a firm palm on your back as you hoisted yourself up on the seat.

“Nice ride,” you smiled, tinkling on the little intricacies it had despite the thin layer of dust that polluted it. You gripped on a dog wearing a hula skirt and strumming a guitar hung from the rearview mirror, entertained at the thought of such a comical object on such a serious man’s truck. “Is this the latest model?”

He nodded, still the same man with the few words. In the year you were able to observe him from afar he had always been a bit different than the rambunctious boys he called his friends that always gathered at whichever table he sat on. Always minding his own business, always has his head down or playing with a football to pass the time if not taking a nap in the tits of whichever girl he was with.

You pouted, racking your head with any conversation starters.

“I bought my dad the one before, he never shut up about it.”

“Ah”, he quipped, now focusing on the road back to your house. Staring at him, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together. He had always been so … big … and intimidating when he was still young. But with the addition of the minute scars on his arms (from farmwork no doubt) and the growing beard -- he looked almost savage now.

This little crush of yours is gonna be the death of you.

He turned his eye towards you, trying to hide a smirk on his lips when you yelped and turned away, face burning in embarrassment.

“How’d you know where I live?”

“Small town, bug,” he shrugged turning the last block till you saw your house. Your heart fluttered at the nickname “And I visit your pa from time to time. Just to check up on everything.”

You were sure your heart has now turned into mush.

“Ah! Syverson!”

Your father waved, walking towards the gate to greet the man with a welcome hug. “You been taking care of my pumpkin, eh? She give you any headaches?”

“Dad!”

“It’s no problem, sir,” Sy opened your door, offering a hand to help you get down. “She was pleasant company.”

Not as pleasant, you think. When he had barely uttered more than two-sentence in the entire five-minute ride. You had thought it was your chance to get to know him better but no dice.

“Hmm,” your father nodded, staring at the two of you back and forth. “You still got no wife --”

“Alright! That’s it! You’re going back inside, you senile old man!”

You waved back at Syverson, nearly dragging your father back to the house so he could rest before he embarrasses you any further. It wasn’t until he was back in his room that you realized how you didn’t even properly say goodbye or thank you to the man. You had run towards the door, foolishly hoping you would catch him somehow.

But the dust had already settled, his tracks already fading.

The sound of barking was the first thing you heard, followed by small thuds that were only explained when you finally found the source of it: a sweaty Syverson chopping off firewood that was the size of his arm.

You gulped audibly when he slammed one last wood, splitting it like butter.

“Who’s there?”

You straightened, surprised when he suddenly turned in your direction when you were sure you didn’t make a single noise. Awkwardly, you waved at him with one hand while the other carried the blueberry cheesecake you made for him, hoping he’ll see you meant no harm. Not that you could scratch him even with all of your strength.

“H-Hi! Sorry for barging into you like this. I tried to call but … uh …”

Sy looked back at his house and winced.

Yeah, he didn’t seem like a man who carried his phone with him all day. With how rough taking care of his farm must become, a fragile piece of technology would be no match for the hooves of the giant horses he raised.

You tried to maintain your wavering smile as he dropped the axe on a larger stomp before using his shirt to wipe his sweaty face making it rise up and give you a peek of the thick happy trail that made you go frigid.

Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look dow --

“Sorry bout that. Your pops need help with anything?”

“Oh no! I just, I made this,” you raised the cake to his face, hoping it covered the embarrassment in your face. Or the way your eyes raked over his burly figure that is threatening to burst out the seams of his checkered shirt.

“For me?”

He seemed confused.

You nodded, still looking down, though grateful when he took the platter as your hands were already starting to shake from the effort. “A-As thanks. I … I wasn’t able to thank you properly a few days ago for the ride. My dad has a tendency of embarrassing me and I didn’t want him to make you uncomfortable. But I didn’t know what you liked so I just thought it might help with the heat and --”

“Woah, calm down, honey,” You hadn’t even realized you were rambling. But you stopped in your tracks when you heard him call you that. You had to bite your tongue so you wouldn’t scream.

HE CALLED YOU HONEY.

“It’s alright. I like blueberries.”

AND HE LIKES BLUEBERRIES.

You nodded, like an eager student, mentally taking note of such facts.

“That’s … that’s great!” you giggled, placing your hands behind your back before you realized how lovestruck you looked and quickly placed it in front of you, fingers wrapping around each other. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it then!”

Like a cowardly squirrel, you were too quick to almost scurry out of there. Hoping to get some fresh air into your brain and make you act right once again.

“Wanna join me?”

God, being anywhere near Sy is dangerous. It makes your head short-circuit and make you do and say stupid things. Now you’re even having auditory hallucinations of him inviting you to --

“Wait -- really?”

This time he truly smiled, the charming type that had you internally squealing like a lovestruck fool, but you were pretty sure you were still hallucinating.

“Come on, have a slice with me. I’m pretty sure I didn’t leave the best first impression. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a dick or anything.”

Oh, you’ve definitely been thinking bout his dick, alright.

You pinched your eyes shut, batting away those unsightly intrusive thoughts with a theoretical bat.

“Oh no! That’s for you, Sy. I wouldn’t want to --”

“You wouldn’t,” he insisted, offering his hand up to you. You bit the inside of your cheek before you took it, letting out a shuddering breath as its warmth engulfed you.

Thinking he was just gonna hold your hand, you gasped in shock when he suddenly pulled you closer and placed his hand on the end of your spine instead. Urging you on the small hill where his house laid and making you go insane from the warmth oozing out from him and piercing through your clothing.

Why is he so freaking warm?!

“I --” your words got stuck in your throat when you realized he was hunching down to hear you speak, your face suddenly a bit too close to breathe. “I just wanted you to enjoy it. After all that you did for my dad when I wasn’t around.”

Your father had talked your ear off about how helpful the burly man was around his small farm, especially when it comes to any form of heavy lifting or complicated machinery. He even checked up on him a few times a month just to see if there was anything that needed to be fixed around the house.

He hummed, accepting your gratitude “I’d enjoy it more with a pretty lady, doncha think?”

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but giggle. Accidentally nudging him with your shoulders as you walked but it only made him chuckle.

“I’ll get some drinks.” he pulled the seat in front of his porch, even spreading a dark blue blanket on your seat.

Not wanting to invade his privacy by snooping through the inside of his cosy-looking home through the windows, you instead enjoyed the company of his dog, who had gently nudged your leg with her wet nose, dropping her squeaky ball in your hand clearly wanting you to throw it.

“Go catch!”

You laughed as you watched her scamper down the steps of the hell in neck-breaking speed, immediately getting distracted by a flock of birds that were bothering the horses on the other side of the farm.

Breathing in the fresh air, you couldn’t help but appreciate the view in front of you. The bright sun and the fresh rain from the night before made everything look sparkling. The wildlife, the sound of the running horses, and the warm breeze of the wind made you smile. You may not be in Los Angeles anymore, but you probably wouldn’t trade this view for the world.

It was no wonder the man has become a hermit, you would be too if you had a paradise like this at your front porch.

The clack of two glasses filled with ice brought your attention back to him, perking up and watching as he sat opposite you. He poured the milk in both your glasses before sliding the fuller one to you.

He whistled in appreciation when he finally removed the handkerchief that covered the blueberry cheesecake you had woken up at 5 am for just to get the freshest batch first.

"Here, let me," you offered, taking the knife from him and focusing on giving the two of you equal slices.

“This shit’s gonna make me lose my figure.”

His foul mouth made you chuckle.

“Well, I like my men big,” you answered mindlessly, knife freezing mid-air when you finally realized what you said.

Before you could sputter out another roll of apologies he grinned, stabbing his own slice of the cheesecake and almost salaciously placing the entire thing in one bite. The excess cream on the side of his lips made you lick your own.

“Well, in that case,” he pulled the fork from his mouth, that irritatingly tempting smirk still present in his face, as he pierced another hefty slice and placed it back on his clean plate. “I better eat up.”

A tense silence followed suit as the two of you stared, though he was still so cockily munching on his piece making you break the eye contact first.

“Charmer,” you grinned, breaking the eye contact before you burn from inside out.

It was surprisingly comfortable to sit in silence with him. The white noise of nature doing enough of a good job to fill in what should’ve been awkward moments. It wasn’t until that you had finished your piece and he had bulldozed at least half the cake that you met his eye again.

“Thanks for this,” he rubbed his scruff. “It was good. You’re a good baker.”

“It’s no problem, Sy --”

You jumped at the sudden cracking noise in the distance. The neighs of the horse at the faucet which supplied all their water breaking made Sy sigh. “Goddamnit -- Layla! I told you to stop fucking around with that!”

Layla, the pregnant mare in question, scoffed in an offence like she hadn’t been caught red-handed.

“I’m sorry, I gotta fix that before it floods into the barn.”

“It’s alright! I’ll just clean up a bit.”

He stopped on his track to look back at you.”You sure? I’ll owe you one.”

“It’s no problem, Sy!” you shoo-ed him off. “I’ll wait for --”

“Great! Thank you, honey. Just go inside, you’ll easily find the kitchen.”

Honey.

You hoped you stopped your flattered grin quick enough that he didn’t see it. However, before you could think too much of it you realized … you were supposed to go into his house!

You let out a breath of air, hyping yourself up while trying not to look over-eager to go inside his house and look like an obsessive freak. The wooden door opened with a gentle push, which you were thankful for as you balanced the leftover cake in one hand and the plates and cups in the other.

Hurriedly, you walked towards the open kitchen, placing the cake in the surprisingly massive fridge filled to the brim with fruits and necessities before placing the plates in the sink, refusing to let your eyes wander no matter how much your brain begged you to.

Thankfully, the front of the sink had a window that showed you an amazing view of Sy’s backyard that was perfectly maintained and filled with vegetables. A giggle pushed through your lips as you imagined Sy’s massive hands trying to gently tend to the fragile plants.

“What’s funny?”

“Ah!” you jumped at the sudden voice behind you, greeted by Sy behind you, leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed and a brow raised.

“Uh, nothing,” you stammered, placing the last glass on the drier. “I-I like your garden.”

He cocked his head as if to see what was so interesting about it but he said nothing.

You surprisingly got used to his silence. “It must taste so good to eat something unprocessed.”

“Yeah,” he answered, sitting beside you near the sink. “You should try it.”

“I can cook but it’s tough waking up so early to get the freshest batch in the market,” you rambled. “And LA’s fresh produce is so expensive.”

“Aren’t you some big-shot model?”

You flushed, wondering if he meant that as a compliment or a diss. It was still quite embarrassing every time someone reminds you of your different persona in the city.

“I don’t eat that much there anyway.”

The expression on his face told you that your statement seemed to bother him which made you uncomfortable. The slip-up was an inside joke with your peers back in LA but it would seem dark humour was not as acceptable back here. “All right! I won’t impose any more than I did. Thank you so much for inviting me, Sy! It was nice to catch up with you.”

You waved quickly, turning on your feet and running away.

“Stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, as you walked back to your house.

It was going so good!

You just had to yap your mouth away and bring down the entire conversation to hell’s ass.

Shaking your head, you sighed. Nothing can be done about it now. You’d rather cherish the small happy moments you spent with the brooding man than focus on the depressing end.

Sy’s vegetable garden had made a stronger craving fester inside you than you thought.

That’s how you found yourself a week later, waking up before the sun rose and walking back to the farmer’s market in the middle of the town despite your body fighting you every step of the way.

There were surprisingly fewer people present, but it was still crowded enough to have that comforting noise all around. A warm feeling festering in your stomach as you hopped from one stall to another trying to put together a meal in your head.

“Sy! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

A woman’s voice made you look back, eyes widening when you saw her latching on to Syverson’s arms.

“Riva,” his gruff voice cut through the other noises of the crowd, making you snicker when you traced the slightest bit of poorly-covered irritation in his tone.

“It’s been so long since we hung out! Are the horses better company than me?” she teased. There was a nagging feeling of jealousy in your chest but watching as an outsider made you cringe. You could still remember being in her shoes, desperately buttering up to the most eligible bachelor, hoping it would elevate your status a bit more in your social circles.

Maybe that’s why you feel sympathetic.

“Honey.”

When you looked back up the couple are strangely looking in your direction. Just to be sure you turned to see if there was something interesting behind you but there was nothing but nagging vendors and shopping townsfolk.

“I thought I was picking you up at your house?”

You gasped when you felt a warm hand wrap around your waist, only to be greeted with the piercing blue eyes of Sy himself.

“S-Sy,” you were too stunned at first but thankfully the pieces still snapped together when you saw the gaping mouths of the crowd of girls behind you. “I … I felt like going for a walk.”

You eyed the group behind you, wincing at their suspicious glares towards you. It would seem you would have to up your game if you want to be believable. “And I wanted to surprise you, bear!”

He seemed tickled at the new nickname, leaning down to wrap you in a loose hug, his beard making a jolt journey to your legs.

“Well, consider me pleasantly so,” Your head wanted to explode from embarrassment. Even more when he suddenly leaned in to graze his lips at your forehead. “Let me carry that for you.”

Looking back, you tried to wave goodbye to the woman, hoping to salvage her pride but she just rolled her eyes which made you pout.

“Don’t mind her,” he gruffed, rubbing his thumb on the edge of your spine as if to comfort you.

When you were farther away from the unpleasant crowd you turned to his nonchalant face. “I don’t remember you being this jumpy from the ladies, bear.”

He smirked, leading you carefully to a vegetable stall and suddenly placing all sorts of products in your tote bag. “Lot can change in a few years, bug.”

You rolled your eyes, frowning when you realized what he was oding “why are you putting stuff in my bag.”

“Cause you’re having a meal with me.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting enough that he was able to pull you into another stall, this one with different types of homemade wines sold by a pleasant-looking lady.

“What can I offer you, young lovebirds?” she asked, eager to rope another set of customers into her pocket.

Sy turned to you, a gleam in his eyes that you haven’t seen before suddenly present, “Wha’d you say, honey? Red or white?”

The drive to his place was surprisingly comfortable, the two of you making pleasant small talk and laughing at you as you tried to sing to old country songs that were playing randomly on radios while he prepared the promised meal to you like a proper housewife.

Though he just smirked when you called him that.

“You haven’t changed, Sy,” you chuckled, hooking your hair behind your ear like a giddy schoolgirl. The wine and full stomach had made you tipsy enough to make your tongue loose. “I can’t believe I forgot how dangerous you were.”

His chest rumbled then, finishing the last mouthful of wine in his glass before laughing at your accusation,” ‘m a Southern gentleman, ma'am. I don’t know what’s all this talk about being dangerous.”

Your mouth dropped, not believing his audacity to deny all the girls who have tripped over their own tails chasing him all around the campus. “Oh please,” you point your fork at him in an accusatory manner, “don’t think lil’ old me didn’t hear about Charmaine and Analeah’s fight over you being their prom date!”

He shrugged, not bothering to defend himself. Instead, he started to clean up the table and walked towards the sink. You followed suit and sat at the counter just beside the sink as he turned the radio louder, the familiar voice of a certain country starlet that had joined the social scene of LA at the same time as you echoing in his cabin.(You couldn’t help but wonder if her transition into the pop genre had been as smoothed as she had planned.)

“Who did you go with, by the way? I wasn’t able to see cause freshmen were the committee so I was running around backstage.”

“I didn’t go,” he placed the last plate on the sink before he walked to where you were seated. Making you hold your breath as he placed his arms on each side of your legs, effectively caging you on the counter.

You gasped. “What?! Why?!”

So, that was the reason he didn’t win prom king. You had even ignored your responsibilities for a few seconds hoping to peek a glance at him on the stage.

“Didn’t get a date.”

“That’s impossible.”

“One might say,” he chuckled, this time leaning in closer till you swear you could feel his every breath, “but the date I wanted was a bit too busy running around backstage.”

Your jaw dropped in shock, taken off guard at such words. The wine had made you a bit more loopy, which is why you couldn’t hold back your laugh at his teasing.

“You fucking charmer!”

His deep laughter made your stomach tumble and fall, but despite trying to playfully push him away he remained still as a wall.

Wiping away the tears from your eyes, you looked up at him and noticed the intensity behind his eyes making you gasp quietly.

“Sy.”

“Hmm?”

You let out a shaky breath, the noises of nature outside suddenly more apparent, the love song playing tuning out the rapid beating of your heart as you finally realized the position you were in.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You shivered when he pressed himself closer to you, "I'll keep it to my grave, bug."

You gulped, "I think I've wanted to kiss you for years now."

You had expected him to laugh, to give you the same irritated look he gave the women in the market but his eyes seemed to have gotten more intense.

A deep rumble in his chest had you chasing your breath.

The same rumble in his chest let you know of his answer. “I'm sorry for making you wait then.”

Like a stalking beast, his quiet growls made a familiar warmth journey throughout your body. Especially when he parted your mouth with a gentle press of his thumb, his lips slotting into yours and immediately making you moan.

The plates on the counter rattled when the force of his body pushed into you, guiding you to grind in his growing bulge. You could barely keep up with him, surrendering and letting him devour your lips, his tongue licking every crevice sometimes guiding yours into his so he can suck it in his mouth with a throaty growl.

When the two of you parted a string of saliva hung and broke, making a stringy mess down your chin which he wiped with his thumb and making you suck it clean.

"Stay for dinner?"

You'd have stayed forever.

A routine between the two of you was surprisingly easily established.

Every morning, you’d cook your father breakfast and help around the farm if it was needed and by 9 am, Sy would pick you up and take you to his home where you would watch him care for the different horses he had adopted out of slaughterhouses. Depending on both your moods, by 11 you would either start cooking for lunch or just drive to town to eat.

By then, the world was at the palm of your hands.

The rest of the day was usually spent on Sy teaching you how to properly ride a horse, sometimes you’re riding … something else. But the repetitive nature somehow never bored you. In fact, it was almost pleasant to have such a predictable day by day.

“Why’d you come back?”

The rough tendrils of hair gently interrupted your musings.

“Hmm?”

Sy pressed kisses on the length of your spine, his untamed beard slightly irritating each inch of skin. With a grunt, you let yourself be turned on your back, cupping his face to press another passionate kiss on his lips.

He hovered over you, his scarred chest covered up by the puff of fur covering the expanse of it. You couldn’t help but run your hands across it.

“You somehow had managed to let me yap out all my stories from childhood yet you keep everything about you a secret,” he whispered in your ear, though the light tone told you he wasn’t mad at the slightest. “You play an unfair game, woman.”

A smile played on your lips which made an adorable frown you were all too familiar with appearing on his forehead.

“I …” he leaned in closer, letting you run your hands on his hair as if he knows it brings him comfort. “I think I wasn’t strong enough for the city.”

His frown deepened but he remained quiet. You were thankful for that.

“It was beautiful, really. I was mesmerized,” your eyes grew distant as you remembered the skyscrapers, the crowd that always had somewhere to be, the car rides to glamorous parties with your glamorous friends and the facade they wear to make the rest of the world envy them. You remember participating willingly, getting drunk of the luxury and laughter yet somehow feeling empty every time you came back to your apartment.

You thought you had gone insane, your manager also thought so.

A couple of dozen therapists and dietitians later and yet they repeated the same old sentiment: you were looking for something. Something to fill up the hole that couldn’t be patched by fame and money.

“I had a breakdown,” it was embarrassing to admit but his warm gaze let you know he wasn’t the type to judge. “I was no longer eating and had trouble sleeping. I was too tired to meet with my friends and … and I had this feeling of loneliness growing a hole inside me even though I was with wonderful people who did their best to treat me well.”

You could still feel that gnawing feeling in your chest, fear creeping up on you as you remembered the dark place you never wanna go back in ever again.

“And then suddenly, everything wasn’t enough. And I wasn’t enough,” it was quiet, the air heavy with your words, but he somehow made you comfortable enough that you still spilt everything out. “, every time I look at the mirror I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough, or popular enough, And I tried, and tried so hard to not drown in that feeling but in the end … in the end, I couldn’t.”

You hadn’t realized a tear had fallen on the side of your face until a rough thumb wiped it away. Realizing you might have just scared him with your issues you tried to laugh it off but his face remained grim.

However, to your surprise he suddenly stood up, giving you no time to appreciate his glorious nude form when he leaned down on the bed and pulled out a chest before rummaging through it.

When he finally sat back down on the bed, he was carrying a magazine, flipping through it before pointing at a certain page. Sitting up, you peered at it, eyes widening when you realized it had been one of your first photoshoots for a small clothing brand. You had forgotten all about it as you had only done it for some pocket money but it would seem someone had managed to keep that relic hidden all these years.

“W-Why’d you …”

“Your father nearly talked everyone’s ear off when you first got your gig. Even gave me a copy when I helped fix up his old tractor.”

You tried not to cringe but he just chuckled at your efforts. “Did you like modelling?”

Despite the horrors that came after it you couldn’t deny it had been enjoyable. To be able to wear and pose with the art the designers came up with was so fulfilling. To see your beauty among the beauty of their works made you feel empowered even if just for a moment.

You nodded.

“Well,” he pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder, running his lips to your neck. “I don’t know how much it’ll count coming from me but I think you looked beautiful. I see you in the billboards too when I visit the city and regret the day I didn't snatch you up when we were teenagers and you were still ain't out of my league.”

You cackled, sliding back into the bed as you tried to hide the flattery written all over your face.

“It’s true,” he continued, grabbing your waist and dragging you in the middle of his spacious bed.

“You snatched me up now, didn’t you?”

He hummed, a predatory glare in his eyes as he ran his eyes on your nude form, your intimate areas barely covered by the blankets he was slowly pulling undone. His shiny necklace hanging from your own neck, the one he gave to you when you had shyly asked him if the two of you were really officially dating. Now you and everyone else can see that you were his woman.

“I did, didn’t I?” his rough hands flicked away the strands of hair in your face until you were bare all for him. “I’d beat up those city boys with a stick too if they think they can still hang around you.”

You grinned, running your hand on his hair, eyes staring at each other as if trying to memorize each detail for yourself.

“What about you?”

He raised a brow.

“I know who you are, Mr.Bigshot-Equestrian. Did you forget you were in that fancy Forbes list?”

He had the nerve to give you an impish smile, like a child getting caught with his hands on a lie. Your friends in the city used to gush about him, the big hunk of the man who has managed to obliterate the competition and suddenly rise in the bachelors of the social scene despite never showing his face in any public events. He wasn’t the richest but he was definitely the most enigmatic. Imagine your surprise when they pointed at your senior posing with a horse and showcasing the field where he raised Olympic-level horses with the same rigid expression on his face as he does after each football game.

“I guess I should thank you for not calling me out the first time,” he hummed, rubbing his prickly cheek in your stomach making you giggle.

You didn’t want to impose in case, just like you, he came back home to hide away from your clearly similarly complicated lives.

“I love my job, I do. I mean, the company had uncontrollably gotten big before I knew what even happened but I didn’t want to lose the reason why I chose that profession in the first place, y’know?" He explained, this time playing with your fingers as he laid his head in your chest. “So I came back home and bought out all the slaughterhouses in the state. Most of them had been rehomed and adopted now but I’m still left with that mean one Layla till she gives birth.”

You had not been expecting that. It made your reasons so selfish.

“That’s … that’s really noble of you.”

“Bah,” he waved his hand, not accepting your compliment. “I’m just like you. Running away from my problems when it gets a bit too much. I think we owe ourselves to be cowards every once in a while.”

His answer carried warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. A form of relief that assured and placated your demons.

He was so kind, a bit rough on the edges, sure, but so, so beautifully kind. And he makes you feel good and accepted for who you are and who you weren't able to become.

It makes you want to stick beside him and never let go.

Cause you could get used to this feeling for a long, long time.

Sy had never thought of getting married.

At least not for a while now.

Sure his pops had ingrained in his head how to treat a woman properly and the importance of making the wife happy but he had never forced his son to follow his traditional values to the dot.

He knew his old man had feared for him even on his deathbed that his son would be alone but despite that, he just never really found the right woman that he deemed agreeable enough to spend a lifetime together.

Then his sudden and unwilling rise to society had made him a target for vultures of women whose eyes shined when they realized his massive bank account and the trust funds he could set up if they ever managed to pop out his kids. And that had just effectively and almost permanently discouraged him to enter the dating scene altogether.

“Sy! I see the lake!”

But the woman on his passenger seat might just change his mind.

“Don’t put your head out too much, honey. You might catch a stray branch in that pretty face 'a yours.”

Despite being dead centre of the social scene Syverson had loathed, you were surprisingly still the same girl in the bleachers that always managed to catch his eyes.

He had been familiar with you throughout high school, might have stolen a glance or two. But he was graduating and you had enough creepy seniors trying to get your number and be your boyfriend that he didn’t want to be just another creep on your list. So he just ignored whatever budding feelings he had and warned his group of friends to stop bothering you and let it go.

Time passed by and he suddenly saw you in every magazine and billboard all over the world as his business took him everywhere. He even bought a girlfriend the lipstick you had been advertising in some weird and silent way of supporting you.

But now, after about two years of relationship, he’s glad he no longer have to watch you from afar. Not when you sleep in his bed every night and he can finally taste your lips first thing in the morning.

“Can I go in the water first, please?” you gave him that pout that you knew would make him give you anything you wanted. He should've known his woman who had spent most of her days travelling all over the world and spending nights in the most expensive hotels, would be excited about the lake he had found while surveying a piece of land for his new barn.

When you had screeched in glee about it he had his men called early in the morning just to check and see if the lake was safe enough to swim in the first place. Thankfully, they had finished preparing it just in time as your plane landed.

“You go on, honey. I’ll just set up a bit,” he smiled, bending down a bit as you squealed so you can wrap your arms around his neck and give him a series of wet kisses. He quickly scanned his surroundings just as you were shimmying your shorts down your legs until all you had left on were those threads you called a swimsuit.

He had bought it with his own damn card with the promise that you would only wear it if he was around.

“C’mon bear!”

He smiled at you trying to playfully splash him despite not being strong enough to actually make the droplets reach him.

“Alright, alright. No need to get spunky, woman.”

Shedding his own shirt and shorts off, he dove towards where you were, grasping your outstretched hand to make you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You’re warm,” you giggled, immediately pressing kisses on his neck and jaws. The water was chilly but he just found the little bumps on your skin adorable.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, the same contagious smile in her face that was so wide it almost splits her face in half. Especially when he pressed another kiss on her soft lips, licking away the droplets that dared touch it.

“And you’re cute.”

He entertained you by giving you a headstart and trying to catch you despite the obvious gap of your skills and wingspan, swallowing your laughter when he inevitable caught you and pulled you in another makeout session.

When you were visibly shaking, Sy had carried you back into the shore and placed his flannel on you along with a towel. Thankfully, the sun had already been out and helped dry the both of you as he started on the barbeque.

"You look so hot like this."

Sy spared you a glance, smirking when he saw the fire behind your eyes as you sat prettily on the picnic table like you were the feast itself.

He lowered the heat on the grill, walking towards you where you had a freshly opened beer for him.

"You think so?" he grinned, playing along.

You nodded slowly, standing up to gently push him on the seat, Sy's crotch perking up when you suddenly knelt in between his legs and alluringly started playing with the band of his shorts.

"I think I should thank you properly," you gave him that puppy-eyed look that always brings him to his knees. "For taking such good care of me all the time."

His grip on the neck of his drink tightened. Either he is an actual pervert or your adorable face next to his bulging crotch is just painfully lewd to look at and would make any sane man painfully hard "Can I, bear?"

He pressed the bottle of the beer to his lips and drank it all in two gulps. Nearly choking when you were suddenly mouthing on his clothed cock.

Teasing minx.

"Be my guest."

You smirked then, pulling out his cock and having the nerve to press a kiss on his leaking tip just to really fuck with him.

Ah, he thought, as you finally pressed his cock into your warm mouth. His eyes zoning straight into your empty ring finger that was gripping onto the length of him.

He might have to dig out that old ring out of his old man’s chest soon.

“Hey! You’re late!”

You waved at your friend, her blonde hair bobbing up and down in excitement. Quickly flashing the hostess a smile, letting her know you wouldn’t need a separate table you pattered quickly towards your group, squealing as you hugged the woman you hadn’t seen for about half a year due to your constricting schedules.

“I missed you so much, you whore!”

You smiled and hugged and pressed air kisses on the rest of the girls in the table. Most of them were as well-known as you, the unofficial clique forming when your group kept meeting in every after-parties and gathering. You weren’t too fond of some members but most of them were pleasant and truly good friends. A little conceited and maybe a tad snobby to others but good friends nonetheless.

“Sorry bout that,” you smiled as you sat down. “New York traffic.”

The small brunch date was cute and pleasant, with small talks and updates about each other’s lives. Now that you were no longer based in New York you tend to miss out on all the juicy gossips and dramas that go down but they do their best to keep you updated despite never understanding the reason behind your big decision.

It wasn’t until you heard Taylor’s sharp gasp that the uncontrolled grin spread across your face.

“OH MY GOD!”

“Suprise?”

Your whole table immediately exploded in hysterics when they saw the shiny old-fashioned jade engagement ring that had been passed down in Syversons family for generations.

“Who is it?!”

“Is this the mystery man you’ve been dating!?”

“When did this happen?!”

You had expected this reaction but the rush of questions thrown at you still caught you off guard. Sy was never a public person despite the fame that came with his money so the two of you kept it pretty lowkey, your friends back here hadn’t even actually met yet due to your busy schedules and you just weren’t ready to share him with the world just yet.

You had moved in with him a year ago, it seemed like he was waiting for you to get used to travelling back home and New York for work before he popped the question.

“I should marry you.”

“Huh?” The pancake sat on the spatula as you froze just as you were about to flip it.

Suddenly a vintage velvet box was sliding down the breakfast bar with a shiny ring sitting prettily inside of it.

“I just think I don’t like having you cooking anyone else’s breakfast,” he rounded the corner, carrying you up until you were sitting in the counter. In your shock, you hadn’t realized that he had you locked in your seat and had already slid the ring into your finger.

“So I’m asking you to make me the luckiest fucker on this earth and marry me.”

“I think it’s about high time we meet him, noh?”

You eyed Anila, her raised brows and sharp glare had always unnerved you. She definitely had a mean streak in her, never once getting upstaged. You had a feeling she still thinks you were making up this boyfriend of 4 years just to have an excuse ready not to hang out with them.

Throughout the years you had learned to tolerate her and focus more on her good qualities but for once you wanted to have the last word.

After all, you still remember her gushing about your man a few years ago when she saw him in that Forbes magazine.

“He’s picking me up,” you smiled. “But he’s a private person so please be nice, girls.”

They had eagerly nodded but you were too busy cackling internally that you hadn’t even noticed when, twenty minutes later, their chatters suddenly stopped and they all stared at the bullish man walking towards you.

“Bug,” you nearly choked on your cup of tea when his heavy hand landed on your shoulders, his deep voice cutting through the white noise of the crowd. “Ladies.”

He clicked his tongue, grabbing a napkin and wiping your face.

“It’s real nice to meet yall,” he flashed that charming smile that had them all opening their mouths to say something yet nothing came out. Anila flashed you a look -- one of shock, irritation and one that told you she was impressed. “But gotta take my woman for the taste testing.”

You win this time around.

“Okay …” someone managed to reply but Sy was already helping you up your seat.

“I think I’ll be seeing yall in the wedding?”

They nodded and it makes you snicker.

“I’m still not sure, bear. I think they’re very busy.”

All of them gawked, Anila even playfully throwing a napkin in your direction but it just makes you laugh. “You best be in your best behaviour then, don’t you girls? Send your sizes to my secretary.”

“You all have a good one.”

You nearly pranced on your way to Sy’s car. “Had your fun, honey?”

“Tons,” you grinned, tipping on your toes to press a kiss until you heard the cameras snapping and you knew the secret was out.

You sighed, the mood now sour.

“Hey,” he opened the door, helping you secure your seatbelt. When you looked up he had that soft smile on his face that told you everything was fine. “I love you.”

It was fine.

He was willing to go through this all with you.

You had talked about it, going public. It was your decision to keep your relationship a secret and for the most part, you had been successful. But he had let you know his love wasn't that fragile. That it can withstand whatever the world decides to throw at it. And that if you could no longer take it he would easily swoop in, take you away, and forbid the rest of the world from touching you ever again.

It was going to be worth it.

Your love was going to be worth this.

You smiled, pressing another kiss to his bushy lips. (You had begged him on your knees that he doesn’t shave it for the wedding and that had been worth it too.)

“I love you too, Sy”

“Home sweet home, honey.”

You gasped at the house Sy had given to you as a wedding gift. It wasn’t a secret that he had been working on it but he had simply made you agree on which designs you prefer and what furniture you wanted in where before promising to reveal it to you if you don't run out on him at the wedding.

What he didn’t show you was how massive the property was.

“Oh my god,” you pressed your face on the window, still not believing your eyes that the cottage-inspired mansion is now officially yours.

“You didn’t sign a prenup so that’s all yours,” he joked, laughing when you gave him a glare.

“I’ll milk you for all your worth, Syverson, don’t you dare,” you threatened when he opened the door for you.

“Yes, ma'am.”

The house was beautiful. Homey enough to make it feel like a home but wide enough that it doesn’t feel stuffy. He had immediately directed you towards the third floor that had the master’s bedroom, showing you the walk-in closet you had been dreaming about with the view of the mountains behind you.

“You aren’t as sneaky as you think, bear,” you snickered, pulling on his tie as you walked back to the bed.

“Sue me.”

Your giggle was cut off by his lips moulding into yours, the warmth of his chest filling you as he removed his shirt and bunched up your satin silk to your chest, too impatient to actually pull it over your head.

Hot breath escaped you when he harshly bit on the underside of your breasts, his sharp canines running on your sensitive nipples until he had you mewling.

“God, you’re irresistible.”

“More, Sy. Please, I need more. I need you,” you gasped, drunk on the excruciating pleasure.

The weight of the events that transpired finally settled in you. You were married. You were married to the love of your life. And right now, he was worshipping your body like it was going to be the last thing he does.

And you need him.

All of him.

“I’m right here, baby,” he mumbled in your pubic bone, slipping off the stringy lace thong off to lay you bare to him. “I’ll take care of you.”

Sy had always been warm.

Every summer you roll yourself off of him due to the intense heat but he refuses and just grabs you back into his arms until you got used to it.

But you doubt the fire you feel when his mouth covers your core was something you could easily get used to.

He growled when you instinctively gripped his hair, finding something to keep you tethered as the pleasure he gives you rapidly makes you lose your mind. Especially when his bruising grip on your thighs forbids you from moving an inch off his torturous tongue.

“Sy, aah, i’m close!"

Not answering, he instead pushed your legs further until you were bent in half, pressing his rough thumb on your clit and spearing the meat of his tongue straight into your pussy and making you scream.

“Oh god, oh god. It’s so good -- I,” your mumblings was cut off when he increased the pressure on his thumb on your clit and made you see white.

“AAAH!” your legs shook, your entire body trembling from pleasure, and your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Your scream was almost embarrassing when it echoed in the rest of your empty home through the wide-open door.

Before you could think too much about it the perspiration in your chest was suddenly licked making you gasp in sensitivity.

“Y-You’re a dog,” you pouted.

“No,” this time he pulled on your dress until the only thing you were wearing was the shining ring on your finger that tied you to him forever. “I’m your husband.”

“You think you like it here?”

You turned to see Sy in a barely buttoned shirt and loose shirts, carrying two cups of coffee and a whole blueberry cheesecake the both of you had stolen from the venue of your wedding last night in a tray.

Rolling your eyes at his nerve to ask if you liked the mansion you now like to call your forever home placed in the area where his humble cottage once stood, you took one of the cups offered to you and turned your head to give him an early morning kiss.

It’s gated now, and a lot more secure, but it was still the same view that had made you fall in love with this piece of land in the first place. You know your neighbours must think the both of you are crazy and obnoxious for building your dream home in this desolate town but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

This was where the two of you fell in love, after all.

“It will do,” you smiled, standing for a moment to let him sit in your chair while you place yourself in his lap despite the excess space in the little gazebo Sy had built for you after you mentioned you liked to watch the sun rise and set in this area.

You had just spent your first night with him in your home and you could swear you had never felt so at peace.

(Or maybe he had just fucked you into a coma but that’s nobody’s business.)

“That’s an awful lot of bedrooms on the second floor, Sy,” he tried to act nonchalant, humming to confirm that your observation was in fact correct. “You plan to make me fat with your babies?”

He buried his face in your neck, his laughter tickling you. “I’d like to make some little gremlins, for sure.” he patted the meat of your thigh gently in the beat of a song you weren’t sure existed.

You smiled, chest fluttering at such a thought. Little Syversons.

“I think we should wait a bit though,” you turned to him, eyebrows raised. “I don’t feel like sharing you for a while.”

That made your grin even wider, your quiet laughter at his undying possessive tendencies getting cut short with every kiss you pressed on each corner of his face. Being alone together for a while sounded nice, it was something you haven’t quite had and had always craved for years. Daydreaming about the day you will finally spend your every day with the love of your life.

And it’s finally here.

He finally fulfilled his promise and your dreams of making you a home.

The chirping of the birds and the early morning breeze making the trees dance was almost therapeutic. His large frame protected you from the chill, as the two of you stared at everything and nothing at once.

You were home now.

“Neighh!” followed a crash and water spilling over the freshly placed hay on the east side of your estate. An old cranky mare screaming in offence at the consequences of her actions made Sy groan and you laugh.

“Goddamn it,” Sy growled. “Layla! Stop fucking around with your bucket!”

Feeding the U.S Army

summery: You’re a Masterchef contestant, and during the team challenge you and your team have to cook for 100 army men. Easy right?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Warning: very bad english, no proof-read. ENGLISH IS NOY MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES I’M SORRY.

I don’t even know what this is but I hope you like it

Masterchef! You had just passed the last selection and finally were going to cook in the Masterchef kitchen.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting when you send in your request to partecipate to the new season of Masterchef, the only thing you knew was that you loved cooking.

You had started cooking when you were really young: you were only eight when you helped your mom baking your dad’s birthday cake for the first time and you hadn’t stopped ever since.

It could seem strange for some people but, growing up in a farm, it was normal for anyone to help as much as they could: you had started with tidying up your room, you had learnt how to collect the eggs from the chicken goop first things in the morning, you had gone with your father to take care of the cows; but as soon as you and your family had found out how much you enjoyed spending your time in the kitchen, that had become your kingdom. You still helped with any other task if help was needed, but most of the time everyone left you do what you did best and what you loved the most: cooking.

So yeah.. you loved cooking: you cooked when you were happy, wou baked when you were stressed, you cooked when you were stuck in your own head, you went to the kitchen when you needed a moment to yourself knowing that very few people had the guts to follow you in your place in the house. 

Anyway the idea of participating at Masterchef first come out while the previous season of the show was on air: you were in the kicthen (surprise surprise!), you were preparing everything for that night gathering; your father was keeping you company while preparing a fruit salad (the only thing you had given him permission to touch, he had pretended to be fed up with your behavior but you both knew it was just for show). You were talking, the tv was on in the background when a new episode of Masterchef had began and your father had stopped answering your question.

“Dad?”- you had asked while still chopping the onions; there was so much to do in so little time you didn’t have time to pay attention to what your father was doing

“You are so much better than him”- your father hadn’t been making any sense

“What are you talking about?”- you had taken your attention from the onions to finally look at your father

“You should try and get on Masterchef”- your father had insisted still looking at the screen where Joe Bastianich was talking to a man in a black apron.

“You’re crazy”- you had simply said before getting back to your cooking. 

You hadn’t talked about it again that day, but the idea had lingered with you and even though you had kept your thoughts to yourself, your father knew you better than anyone else, so one day you had found the Masterchef application on your bed with a post on it 

‘I know you can do it honey- dad’- the post had said 

You had had a lot of fear: the fear of dissapoint your family, the fear of being on national television, the fear of leaving your family that needed your help at the farm every day, the fear of not suceeding, the fear of not being good enough,the fear of not pass even the first selection. Your father had come to your help once again “Honey the only way you could lose is if you didn’t even try. What’s the worst that could happen? that you don’t get in? Who cares? You will always be our favorite chef”

Your father’s words had been the push you needed, so you had send you application and when you had been called for the selection you had been excited.

You had survied the first couples eliminations and now you were going to be the captain of your team, the red team, in the first team challenge and you were scared shitless: not only you could go home if you made any mistakes, but the future in the competion of your team mates depended on you too, and as if that wasn’t enough you had to feed one- hundred army man. So yeah you were panicking and trying not to show it because you needed your team to trust you and to be calm enough to serve good food.

You took a deep breath and focused on what the judges Gordon Ramsay, Joe Bastianich and Aaron Sànchez were saying.

“Each  team will have to devise a menu that includes a protein, two vegetable and a sauce”- Joe said

“Now remeber, at the end of the day one of you will be eliminated and this will be last time he will be cooking in this competion”- Gordon’s words kept your anxiety spiriling but you tried to keep your focus- “All right, are you guys ready? let’s go”

You and your team sprinted as soon as Gordon had done talking. Once what you wanted to cook had been decided, you gave a task to each and everyone of your team mates and you all started cooking.

Managing between doing your own prep and making sure every team member was doing ok and didn’t need your help, wasn’t easy but you made it; the judges tasted your dish after half an hour and, aside from some suggestions to make it better, they liked it.

So you were on cloud nine: the judges liked the dish your team had devised, your prep had gone alright, your team was doing ok. But then service started and YOU PANICKED: you had to serve 100 army men and women and you had no idea how to prepare 100 dished that were perfect and that looked all the same. Your team was looking at you for direction but you had no idea what to do: you had never worked in a restaurat, none of you ever had, and when you cooked for your family gathering everyone made their own dishes, you were so out of your comfort zone. 

And that’s when things started to go even worse: service had started, the army men and women had arrived and had a very clear view of your stations, you had no idea how you wanted to plate the food and Gordon Ramsay came to you and he didn’t look happy.

“Red team come here, all of you, RIGHT NOW! We need a system, your tray is cold, the food is cold, I’m not letting you serve fucked up food. Take your food back in, warm it up, warm your tray. Y/n come here. YOU ARE THE TEAM CAPTAIN, SO FUCKING WAKE UP, DECIDE HOW YOU WANT YOUR FOOD ON THE PLATE AND START A PRODUCTION LINE. RIGHT FUCKING NOW Y/N”- Gordon pratically screamed in your face, you knew he just wanted to make sure the food that came out was perfect, he only wanted for you guys to succeed, but you had never liked when people screamed in your face even if you knew they didn’t mean any harm. Your eyes watered but you weren’t going to cry, you were going to do this, but when you thought things couldn’t go any worse..... you found out you were obviously very wrong.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”- a voice boomed behind Gordon and once you raised your gazed to see what was going on, you saw a mountain of a man, dressed in uniforme, coming towards you.

It was clear not even Gordon knew what was happening

“Can I help you, sir?”- Gordon asked, you couldn’t sure but his voice sounded a little bit unsure

“You wanna help me, why don’t you start by not screaming at a woman?”- the army-man’s voice was much calmer now but he wasn’t any less intimidating. Gordon didn’t know what to say and you knew it, so you took a step forward

“It’s really not a problem.. ehmm”- you read the name of the man on his uniform - “Captain Syverson, sir. Chef Gordon was just giving me a pep talk, everything is good. We will be serving you your food very soon”

As soon as you had started talking the man’s eyes had moved from Gordon to you and for the first time, since he had come over, you noticed how bautiful they really were. His eyes had become gentler when he had started looking at you, you had almost shivered when his attention had been on you and you only.

“Mhhm”- Captain Syverson said like he was still assessing the situation before deciding - “You can called me just Syverson”- he said before turning around and going back to his men.

You stood there for another second, all eyes were on you and you were sure your cheeks were burning

“Back to work guys”- you said. There was no way you weren’t sarving your best food to that hunk of a man.

Everything had gone smoothly after that, you had felt eyes on you some time during service but every time you had looked up you had never been able to pin point who was looking at you, so you had always gone back to work.

Once the judges had annouced your team had received 70 votes against the 30 of the other team and you had won you couldnt’ been happier, you had been sad for the contestant that had had to leave the show, but it was a competition and that was how it worked.

You were still celebrating with your team when you heard someone clearing their throath behind you

“Hello”- captain Syverson was behind you

“Oh Captain, hello”- what was happening?

“I thought I told you to call me Syverson, or Nathan if you prefer, but none on that Captain crap”- his raspy voice was doing things to you that shouldn’t be possible when you had just met the man.

“Right. Was everything ok with your food?”- you asked because why would he be here, if not because there had been something wrong with his food

“The food was amazing, you’re a fantastic cook, sugar”- he said and your cheeks burned once again at the name. What was this man doing to you

“Oh thank you, it was a team effort”

“Well you are the team captain, so I think you deserve some credit, sugar”- he said before looking back where a man was calling for him - “I need to go, but I really hope to see you again sugar”- he winked at you before leaving.

“uh”- you stood there staring at his back not sure of what had happened.

Everyone had joked about what happened between Gordon and the captain for the rest of the season, but you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man that had screamed at Gordon Ramsay (GORDON- FUCKING- RAMSAY) for you.

The competition had gone on and without even knowing how you had arrived to the grand finale and to your surprise YOU HAD WON!

So yeah when you sent your application for Masterchef you didn’t know what you were expecting, but in the end it was clear you had left the show with so much more you had even though you could win.

liked by masterchefus, gordongram and 234,567 others

itsMeYN When I sent the application for Masterchef, because my father conviced me to, I never thought I would even passed the first selection, let alone win the finale. This journey has given me so much, I learnt from every single one of the other contestat, some of which have become really good friends. I don’t even know how to start thanking the judges, Gordon, Joe and Aaron, They have taught me so much and always known when I needed a nudge to wake up and start believe in myself. Thank you, thank you this competition has given me so much 

view all comments

yourmominsta I’m so proud of you honey 

jennifer So happy for you, I was rooting for you since the first episode

haley234 Congrats! can we please talk about the team challenge with the army man ;)

austin  Oh my god! that episode was the best, that army captain was totally hitting on her

felicity Does Captain Syverson have instagram? Please does anyone know?

austin I dont think so, I’ve been looking for him too

rachel  Guys I was watching her story the other day and I swear there was a very familiar scratchy voice in the backgroud

yourbestfriend Oh my god... @itsmeYn I think you got busted

itsmeYn @yourbestfriend shut up

haley234 wait what

liked by masterchefus, gordongram, yourbestfriend and 345,678 others

ItmeYn Had the pleasure to dine at @gordonndram restaurant, and wasn’t that an experience. Also I think the second meeting between Gordon and at certain someone went a lot better

view all comments

austin “Certain someone”... yep she is totally dating Captain Syverson. Is it normal being so obsessed with the idea of them together when I have only seen 5 min of them together on tv?

haley234 Same sis, same.... and maybe it’s not normal but who cares

gordongram We still yelled at each other so I wouldn’t say it went so much better

itsMeYn “We” is the key word here, you yelled at Sy too, i think it’s mostly out of love now 

austin Sy... I repeat she wrote Sy... My ship is real

Yeah Masterchef had given you so much…

Masterlist

All around taglist: @jwspiter​

Henry Cavill and characters taglist: @xxxkatxo​ @mansaaay @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ @maan24​ @grounded-in-light​ @omgkatinka​  @xprettyqueenx​ @marytudorbrandon

Just wanna say that, I don’t when but I may write a second part of this, I have an idea already

Feeding the U.S Army

summery: You’re a Masterchef contestant, and during the team challenge you and your team have to cook for 100 army men. Easy right?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Warning: very bad english, no proof-read. ENGLISH IS NOY MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES I’M SORRY.

I don’t even know what this is but I hope you like it

Continua a leggere