#captain sy x wife!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doll-r-t · 2 years

Text

The Lost Pearl Part 14

Syverson x reader

TW: non, Sy trying

Masterlist (can find all parts there)

(Pictures, You and Rosamund, the blue flowers Sy got you, Your dress, You and Ethos dancing, The books, all pics found on Pinteres, credit to owners)

Syverson realized as soon as he was back in Warhorse that Ocre was right and he had to have a better plan than just flowers. He went straight to his office walking up and down. He felt like he was walking a hole into the ground when his eyes caught something on one of his shelves. Of Course! How had he not seen it before, it was quite literally in front of him. He walked over to the shelve brushing his fingertips against the fragile binding of the book. He immediately turned around and walked out towards the storage. He was a man on a mission, blood was pumping his heart was racing in the most pleasant adrenaline-inducing way. His face was set, determined to achieve what he not only wanted but needed.

He walked down the cold stone steps towards the cellar of Warhorse. He pushed open one door. His great uncle had stored the possession of his wife. She loved beautiful dresses and to the surprise of the people of the oral tradition, she was an avid reader.

He searched trunk after trunk pulling out old smelly clothing, hoping that some books were still well enough to use. To his annoyance, the books were in the last trunk he could find. He was starting to sweat despite the cold underground. He pushed the trunk open looking inside, there were three stacks of books in there. He pulled them out and looked through them sadly most of them were destroyed due to the cold and wetness in the room. He brushed some dust off the ones that were still good. It was about five. Not much but it had to be enough. He had no idea what to do if it was not.

He walked to his office as fast as he could. He needed more light to inspect them more. He instructed Gisla to put the flowers in water. He was just about to pass the Parlor when he stopped turning back to look at the door. He knew you and Cella were outside so he opened the door and took a look inside. This Parlor was usually given to the women of the household. In this case, it was still Cellas but once she was gone it would go to Rosamund but mostly it would be empty as Rosamund was not necessarily fond of the room. He turned about the room. A plan was forming in his head. It was spacious with a couch, table and chairs, fireplace, and space to host people. The walls were primarily bare but one with a tapestry hanging from it. He smiled to himself, yes this would work, he thought. A lightness settled in his chest that he had not felt since the fight between you. He spotted a trunk in the corner of the room, he went over and looked inside. He had to chuckle, the trunk was filled up to the hill with books. He shook his head at that.

He moved on to his studies, it was getting dark and he did not have a lot of time to put his plan in motion. He looked at the books closely. Wondering if some of the rough edges could be preserved. He had no idea how to do it. Maybe some of the craftsmen could, although they had never restored a book they do work with leather and should be able to fix it. But there was no time for it now. The longer he waited the more he felt the cold shadow of indifference between you. So he left the book behind in his studies and walked outside. He went down into the town, walking along, past the many wood houses on the gravel path. He was searching the shops looking for the crafting woman. He spotted her sitting on a chair outside, a knife in hand and her long greying hair in a braid. She was fiddling with a piece of wood. “I apologize for my interruption crafting woman, Chae-Won.” The woman looked up, her eyes were dark, almost as dark as the ends of her still black hair. She had high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. “Captain.” She nodded in greeting. She got up pulling up another chair. “Some tea?”

Before he could answer she was off. Back rounded from long years being bent over wood, crafting, and building. While she got some tea he sat down looking at the piece of wood she had been working on. For him, the lines did not make a lot of sense but her carving seemed steadfast and confident. She came back out of her hut. He stood taking the cups from her and offered her his arm, helping her sit. She smiled, holding onto his arm. “What bring you here my Captain.” Straight to the point. She took a sip from the steaming water and he followed suit before answering. “I have some books up at the castle they are damaged. I was wondering if you know how to craft new leather bindings for them.” She thought about it for a moment. “I spent some time at the borderlands, there we had occasion to craft new leather armor for soldiers passing through. I will try. I cannot imagine it would be much more complicated than that.” Syverson sight in relief. “I also wondered if you could come up to Warhorse tomorrow and look at the Parlor. I would like to put up some shelves for books.” She hid her smile behind the teacup. “I will be there tomorrow after breakfast.” Syverson nodded drinking from his tea. “Is there any specific wood your lady has in mind?” Syverson started to cough, the tea running down the wrong pipe. “I am sorry?” “The Lady you are building the shelves for, her people like lighter wood than ours. I might have to search for a while to get some wood like that.” Syverson was adjusting himself in his seat. “Why do you think it is for her?” “Do not act bashful with me. I have no interest in your love life Captain. But I do care for my crafting.” Syverson looked at her, she had that twinkle in her eye that told him he had said more with his bashfulness than he had if he would have been straight with her. “I am not sure.” Syverson had not thought of the different kinds of woods and tastes. “It will do good to have more information by tomorrow. I will bring some suggestions with me.” He drank the rest of the tea. Thanked Chae-won and went up to the castle again. As usual, he had not thought things through. He would have to talk to you before he did anything. He wanted to do it now, rather than later.

He walked to his study. The flowers were on his desk, in a beautifully painted vase. He had not seen this vase before but he did not care as long as everything looked beautiful he had no care. He took a couple of books and took out one of the green ribbons he usually bound his cloak with. It had fallen off his cloak and now it came in handy. He wrapped it around the books tying it with a bow. He looked at it satisfied. Taking one deep breath he walked with the flowers and book in hand to your room. He knocked at your door, with his foot. Just when he knocked he realized she should have put on a nicer shirt and combed his beard. He was so wild and unkempt in contrast to your people. He realized with embarrassment that he had mud on his shoes. Oh, I hope I do not have any on my face, he thought.

Suddenly the door opened, there you were. Your hair tied back, a lovely light sea-green gown on. He had not been so close to you for a long time and he had to resist closing his eyes when the flowery smell of you wafted towards him. My, did you always smell this good? He could feel his heart speed up. He opened his mouth and closed it again. “My Captain.” You bowed slightly. He cleared him through. “Princess.” With this, he thrust the flowers into your hands. You were taken aback but stepped aside to let him in.

Syverson stood in front of you, in your room. You had no idea what he was doing here. Confused and a bit shocked. He looked slightly uncomfortable and had not said more than one word. You let him have his space, waiting for him to speak. He looked around your room and when he finally looked at you again his cheeks were on fire. You thought him blushing was an endearing feature of a leader. “I apologize for interrupting you before dinner.” He wrung his hands. “I-, these are for you.” He pointed to the flowers in your hands. “Thank you.” You smiled unsure where he was going with this. You looked down at the flowers in your hands, setting them on your table. It was the same blue flowers he had plucked once when you were in the garden after saving Rosamund. They looked like blue little stars. “Would you like me to call for some wine?” “No.” The silence became uncomfortable but finally, after he rubbed over his head Syverson began to speak. You had sat down and he followed suit. “I wanted to talk about what happened. Well, not necessarily talk. But apologize. I am sorry for all the things I have said.” He went silent waiting for something. You remembered his words clearly, the pain opening like a wound in your heart. You nodded avoiding his eyes. “I let my anger get the better of me. I want you to know, nay I need you to know that I was not angry at you.” Your eyes looked at him questioningly. “I was angry at myself.” He leaned back into the chair, looking into the fire. “I hated that I was not able to feed my people and that someone from the Southern people did.” He looked at you apologetically. You nodded in understanding. “It was not my intention to make you feel this way. I just wanted to help,” you said. “I know.” He leaned forward his hand closer to yours as if he wanted to grab it but stopped himself. “And I never thanked you for it. You have done so much for my people, my family, and me. You did not deserve my treatment of you. I hope that, in time, you can forgive me.” You smiled slightly at him, not your full smile but it was a start and it made breathing easier. “I do have to apologize too. I should have told you that I was writing a letter to my father. And although it was just a letter, it was my intention for him to send food. I am sorry.” This time he did reach for your hand, giving it a small squeeze. His hand was warm and rough. You wanted to close your eyes and savor the warmth against your cold skin. “I would not do anything to intentionally hurt you, Cella or Rosamund,” you added. “I know that. I am sorry I hurt you.” He said softly, his eyes not leaving yours. He still held your hand. “Thank you for the flowers,” you whispered.

He abruptly rightened himself, clearing his throat. “I have something else for you.” He handed you a small stack of books. This time you could not suppress your full smile. Immediately you reached for it. “It is not much, but my great aunt liked to read. I am not sure how good they are, and they are a bit damaged,” he rambled on, rubbing the back of his head. He had this bashful look about him again and his cheeks were rosy underneath his beard. You wondered, not for the first time, how it felt. “It don’t matter.” You pressed them against your chest. “I hope you do not mind but I have someone come in tomorrow to look at them to see if they could be restored. She is a talented carver, her name is Chae-Won.” “That is very sweet but I don’t think it is necessary.” You hastily added. “Not that I do not believe that she is not talented but I think they are perfect as they are.” Syverson’s chest felt tight as if there was not enough air in the room, your lips had a soft smile, looking soft and more inviting than water after a battle. Your eyes had lost some of the coolness, you looked like you again. “Indeed perfect,” he whispered. One of his hands was reaching for yours again, softly stroking his thumb on the back of your hand. “I wanted to discuss another thing. The Parlor has some bare walls and I saw that your brother has brought you some books. I was thinking about putting up some shelves so you could display them and have a room for reading. If you do not wish we can also do it in your room.” You stopped his caress of your hand, grabbing it hard. “I would love to. I am keeping them in my trunks right now and it does not do them justice. They are so beautiful they should be displayed.” He had never seen you as open as when you talked about books. Maybe he should pick up one for himself and see what the fuss is about. He always preferred spoken stories but he should be open to new things. Although looking at the shine in your eyes he thought you should be in stories. “Chae-won will come with some options for wood tomorrow. You can choose whichever you want. And anything else you might want or need Just say the word.” You nodded. “Thank you.” With one hand you were still holding his hand and with the other, you were clutching the books against you. Throughout your talk, you both scootched closer and closer to each other. You could finally smell him again, the herbs, woods, horses, he smelled like freedom and strangely enough something like home. You were completely ensnared by the smell and were slowly leaning closer.

“Y/N it is time for dinner soon-” Gisla came in but stopped abruptly when she saw Syverson in your room. You swiftly scootched back from him. As if you were a child caught with the hand in the cookie jar. “Thank you Gisla. I do need a wash-up before.” Syverson stood, clearing his head. “I shall leave you to it then.” Before he left, however, he picked up your hand pressing a small kiss on it. “I will see you there, Princess.” You felt your heart stop for a second and your breath halted. You could do naught but nod in agreement. Your hand felt light and tingly. He gave you one small smile and left. Gisla was looking at the ground trying to hide her smile. You still stood rooted to the spot. She left you to you and pulled out a gown. “I will bring you some water for washing.” She walked to the door. “I will put in some of your oils so you will smell extra good tonight.” She smirked at you, before leaving with a chuckle. You wanted to be outraged at her but you did not have the heart. As you did not mind putting in some scented oil. You walked over to your bed. Sitting down and unwrapping the books. You looked at them closely. There was a book about tales from the old world, a book about herbs and flowers, and some other stories. The last one caught your eye, it was a book about language and different regional accents. You opened it, to your surprise and delight there was a chapter about the woodland people. This one you would read first. Gisla came in and you began getting ready for dinner.

You walked to the hall you felt like you were far too overdressed, your gown was different shades of blue and lilac. Layered over another flowing with every step. Gisla had insisted on it. She had also added a small necklace with a white shining stone and pearls for your hair, instead of the net.

You walked into the hall passing tables of already eating and drinking people. Everyone was in a merry spirit and you let it infest you. You felt so much lighter, and you were more than hungry. You smiled at Cella who joined you, walking towards the high table. You laced your arm with hers. She shot you a confused look. But you did not see as Syverson was sitting at the high table watching you walk towards him. You smiled at him.

You pulled the chair out for Cella and she sat down as you had instructed her. You nodded in approval. Your brother stood wanting to pull your chair out but before he could Syverson stepped in front of him reaching the chair before him. “I might as well practice my manners too.” You laughed lightly. “I fear I have to agree Captain. This must be the first time you ever pulled out my chair for me. Very poor form indeed.” You smirked, sitting down. You could feel the deep rumble of his chuckle go through you making you shiver. Ethos and Cella looked at you both with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Syverson and you paid them no mind. He sat down next to Ethos again but throughout the dinner, he sent you small smiles.

Rosamund had come over to you and Cella and Syverson watched as you picked her up settling her on your lap. It tugged at his heart. When you first walked in he had thought that you were the most beautiful woman but seeing how you took care of little Rosamund, he had to go back on his statement. Now you were the most beautiful woman. He was glad that you were his friend again. And he hoped in time you would make your opinion known again. He would not admit it but he was dependent on it. You were smart and had much more knowledge about political matters than he had. Yet, there was one thing he had to do. Something did not sit right with him and he wanted to address it. But for now, he would enjoy the evening and the companions of his people, friends, and families.

Once the ale was flowing freely, and the tables were cleaned he waved a servant over. He asked them to bring out some of the sweets they had baked this morning. It was the first time they had the resources to actually bake some sugar bread. It was soft sweet dough with some fruit in it. The servants promptly brought some. Before the people could dig in Syverson stood up. The hall went quiet.

“My friends, my family. Before we eat sugar bread I would like to tell you a story. A story about someone extraordinary whose heart is brave and kind. For so long darkness, despair and suffering have plagued the people of the north, the people of the borderlands, and the people of the south. I have to admit I also was gripped by it. I was surrounded by paper, darkness settling over me, taking me with it more and more. Yet, one morning, when the morning light was still soft and the air still fresh from the night, I awoke. Awoke to something, something that could be so insignificant. A note. Made with a simple tool of a writing feather and ink. It was written, in soft curves and elegant flow, on my paper. It was so small I nearly missed it. If it were not for the light, I would have. All darkness that I carried in my heart felt like it left my heart, infused into the ink, and turned into hope.”

The people were listening to every word and so did you, following the lines of his lips. You had a weird feeling in your chest between an ache and a flutter. “I never knew how strong words could be, how they could chase the darkness away and make you realize that no matter the hardship, light is always there you just have to look for it.” He turned to you, his eyes were so soft and blue. “Which reminds me of a story of a bear, his fell was disheveled, trotting slowly through a dark and cold forest, hardly any light, no food for him. This is when he came to a river and with his thick brown fur, he trotted towards it. An ache in his side made him slow, but he was stubborn. I will fight, I will protect, I will provide.” Syverson boomed in a deep voice. It caught your attention more, his face had changed displaying pain but determination.

“So the bear went into the water, he pawed, clawed, and roared. The coldness pulled him deeper into the water, his strength leaving him, his thick fur pulling him down. I cannot give up,” Syverson roared in that deep voice again. “I cannot give up,” He said a bit more desperately. “He dragged himself through the water still pawing, clawing, roaring. Trying to catch fish. He did not see the silver feathered owl landing on the rock just off the side of the river. Its eyes were watchful. And with just one look it had figured out that the bear was about to drown.” Syverson looked at you again, his voice had turned soft almost reminiscent. “Slowly the owl rightened itself, extending its wings suddenly it looked double his side, strong, powerful. It soared high into the sky, letting the wind do all the work, using the ability to oversee the river from high up. It observed the bear for a second more and flew a bit further. Suddenly it swooped down, disrupting the surface of the water. Once it soared up again it had a fish in its claws. It let out a hoot, catching the attention of the bear. The bear had thought he had never seen such elegance and beauty. Yet, he roared out in anger, trying to claw at the owl. How dare it mocks him, did it not see that he was trying to catch a fish too? Before the bear could claw at the owl again it let go of the fish and it landed. To the bear's surprise. Right in his mouth.”

Rosamund giggled at that and you joined in. “Stubborn bear,” you whispered to her. Syverson had heard it. “Yes, a stubborn bear he was.” He grinned at you.

“But not for long. Once his stomach was filled with the fish he realized that the owl was not mocking him. It was trying to help him. So it dragged itself out of the water and laid down. The owl swooped down, landing next to the bear, burring its head underneath the bear's snout, its face in the fur. The bear lifted his paw and covered the owl more. Soon the sun would be high and shining and the owl was seeking a dark spot to sleep. The thick fur of the bear provided the perfect spot. They slept, one day and one night, and one day again. The bear was healing, and the owl was resting. Once they awoke the bear found that the pain in his side was gone and to his happiness, the owl was still there. It blinked slowly, with its observing eyes, shaking its shining silver feathers. It looked at the bear once before soaring up into the sky again. The bear road out, but this time not in anger but in desperation. The owl had become his companion and he wished for it to stay. But the owl was not moving far, it crashed down into the water again catching a fish once more. This time it had caught a big and a small one and together they ate at the side of the river. The bear dangling its feet into the river and the owl sitting crossed-legged. Looking up into the sky the bear did not mind the darkness, as if it were not for it he would not see the beautiful stary night.” Syverson finished off.

He grabbed the first sugar bread and walked down to the table. He stopped right in front of you. Cella quickly took Rosamund from you. You did not even notice your focus on Syverson. “And as the bear was hopeful again. So was I. On that day the sun had risen shining a light on the note on my paper.” You knew exactly what he was talking about. Your heart was beating so fast but you could not look away from him his words and eyes capturing. “A note that helped my people and opened my heart. For the strong woman who wrote it my people and I owe much to. As she was the one that made the trade that provided my people with food possible. Princess Y/N Commander of the Pearl, daughter of the moon, and from now on, a sister of the Woodland people the Owl of the South, strong and smart.” He bowed to you. “You will always have a home here.”

He handed you the sugar bread. Your hand was shaking. And your voice failed you. You knew that the first bite of a meal was reserved for the leader. And you knew how significant it was that he was granting you the first bite. You stood up shaking, you broke the sugar bread in two putting the other piece into his hand. Without looking at the people, that had gasped at the Captain's gesture, you bit into the bread. The sweetness almost overwhelmed your senses. But you were not sure if the tingling came from the sugar rush or from the look on Syverson’s face. The people were cheering your name. “Hail Princess Y/N Commander, Daughter of the Moon, Sister of our kin, Owl of the South.” After you took a bite Syverson followed suit. Smiling that even now you would share what you had. He did not tear his eyes from yours as you had done. Yet, he hummed at the taste of sugar in his mouth. The people erupted in cheers, digging into their own bread, and some started to play on fiddles. Rosamund pulled you on your skirt dragging you away from Syverson and to the people who started dancing. You both spun around. You were laughing, twirling, and spinning faster and faster. You had not done this since before the war. You danced song after song, finally you were so out of breath that you hugged her to you and went off to drink some wine. She was far younger than you and had much more stamina. But it gave you great joy seeing her big smile. You took your rest at the side, talking with some people. A hand landed on your back making you flinch but when you turned around your brother Ethos was standing there. “Common sister.” He took your hand leading you to the dance floor. You started to dance one of the more traditional southern ones. Ethos was holding up his hands in front of his body, chest high. You followed suit, your hands were not touching. Once the music set in he took a step forward and you took one back, it was a chase. It was to symbolize the push and pull of the water. It got quicker and quicker. Stepping forth and back, without touching. The footwork was simple back forth, side step, side step. But the hand movement was intricate. Showing the difference in waves. Sometimes you both would lift your arms high, slowly dropping them down in a cross-movement towards your chest. You both had not realized that the music had started to mimic your movements. The people around you stopped dancing watching you. Your gown was flowing as if it was water. Once the final notes played you went into your original position but this time your hands touched. Your brother had a small smile on his face. You two had not danced like this for so long. He leaned towards you kissing your forehead. “I am proud of you sister, my commander, my high Princess,” he whispered. Then he walked off into the crowd. The people around you started to dance again as you teared up at your brother’s acknowledgment of your accomplishments.

Chapter 15

Taglist:

@tumblnewby @irishprincess89 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @sofiebstar @omgkatinka @enchantedbytomandhenry @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirl @pjkimrn @zealoushound, @lunedelorientelorient, @tragicphoenix13, @alexa-fangirl-forever, @vhjlucky13 @bourbonwithice

#Captain syverson #Captain Syverson #Captain Syverson x reader #sand castle (movie)#syverson #syverson x reader #captain syverson x you #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill #syverson x you #captain syverson imagine #syverson imagine #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fluff

82 notes · View notes

queen-of-writing-bad-things · 2 months

Text

Danger Force Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 1

Episode 5: Mime Games (SMUT)

Season 1 Masterlist

Click for vibes

bonjour ma peeps. je suis ruth und je ne parle le french. spanish is more my bag. mi bag. enjoy ray as he slowly descends into madness because he wants a baby and his wife sys no. sucks to be him :)

~ Swellview Academy for the Gifted~

"Come on! Let's go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go!" Ray bellowed as he impatiently hovered by SWAG's front door.

Glancing at his gadget-filled watch, he breathed a frustrated sigh, wondering what was taking his protégés so long to pack. They were going on a trip, not for fun, but for a mission - three days max, so he didn't know what the hold-up was. After all, it was only Paris - he didn't see the big deal.

For some, it was a big deal, the getaway of a lifetime to the city of love, famed for its cafés, architecture, and tourist attractions. (y/n) was one of them, having been unable to sit still all week ever since they received confirmation that Captain Man and Co were needed overseas. Her childhood dream was to take her lover and experience all those cheesy, cliche things she saw in her rom-coms.

It was enough to make her bounce excitedly on the spot, hugging Ray's beefy arm close to her chest, where her heart thundered from the adrenaline. Their bags were packed: a manly, dark camo sports bag for him and an overly girly, glitzy purple suitcase for her, and of course, her husband insisted on carrying both. His sweet girl packed enough for three weeks, let alone three days, but he indulged her.

After all, only a genuinely remarkable lover would whisk their wife away to the most romantic city on Earth, even if it involved a little crimefighting.

Well, that is if the children didn't fuck things over for him.

"We're s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'go, s'going!" Mika replied sharply, snapping her hard plastic case shut and haphazardly zipping it up. Unlike some, she and her friends had only learned about the little detour half an hour ago; trust Ray to tell them they were going halfway around the world when no one had anything decent to wear, toiletries, or parental consent.

"Our Goober Lux is three minutes away, and I'm not going to lose my five-star rating for any of you!" The man growled, anxiously glancing at his phone to see the taxi approaching. He wanted to be the perfect customer, ready and waiting by the door with his sweet girl's hand in his, looking ever so handsome.

His hair was so floppy, that jacket was deliciously tight, and the gleaming, golden band on his left hand made the heroine swoon as she squished his bicep more. Maybe it was the thrill, the whiff of adventure, or maybe Paris was just that enticing, but she was ridiculously giddy, too happy to scold the children about dragging their feet.

"You could help us...(y/n/n)?"

"Well, I--"

"She's with me, and I'm helping by yelling..." Ray told Mika sharply when she looked at the starry-eyed woman for help, refusing to let his wife go merely because they weren't prepared. He'd already told her twice, but she looked gorgeous in that pretty little dress--so cute he could burst, but he concentrated on yelling instead. The sooner they moved, the sooner he could show her the fancy-schmancy suite he'd booked at the hotel.

"Let's go! Let's go!"

"Relax, boss. I'm good to go," Miles called out smoothly, looking like the picture of relaxation as he reclined in his chair, feet propped up on his desk with a magazine in hand. Everything around him was chaotic, yet the boy didn't look phased, flicking through the pages while his sister ran around like a mad bull.

"Uh, Miles. We're going to Paris. Aren't you gonna pack anything?" (y/n) asked, wandering over to the kid's side with her doofus in tow. Maybe it was just her - she was a stickler when it came to luggage - but it was a wonder how calm and collected he was, barely sparing them a glance as he turned another page.

"Whatever I need, the universe will provide," he replied with his usual zen. He was so confident in the mystic power that he almost looked smug. For some reason, coincidences fell around him like dominoes, always ensuring his life ran smoothly with no bumps or issues in the road.

But, of course, there were no such things as coincidences - cue Mika walking into the room from the closet, dragging double her weight in suitcases while Miles sat idly by. She always did this, looking out for her brother, even when her care bordered on neglect; after all, he was old enough to look after himself.

"Okay, Miles. I packed all your stuff. Again."

"Told 'ya!" The boy smirked at his teachers before licking his forefinger and thumb to grasp another page, looking arrogant since all the hard work was done for him.

"Mika, honey..." (y/n) sighed, swallowing the urge to give the conceited kid an earful about respect and good manners. Instead, she turned to the sweating, out-of-breath girl, who smiled sweetly after placing the heavy bags down for a breather. It was like she didn't see anything wrong with her kindness; she was too innocent and thoughtful to see how Miles took advantage of her generosity. But she did - (y/n) knew the doormat life all too well.

"Why do you do this for him?"

"The only way he'll learn is if I do it over and over again for him until he learns," Mika explained, and for one so bright, she just sounded dumb. Uttterly stupid. Painfully moronic. And it practically had the woman slapping her forehead in exasperation.

"Mika. I have raised four other children and a doofus. Trust me. Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind. You are not his maid, nor his mother, so Miles," (y/n) turned and glared at the boy as she growled out his name, "should get off his butt and pack his own suitcase."

"You're scary when you're mothering..." the girl trailed off, staring at her friend in awe and mild reluctance once her furious tirade finished. It even left her brother looking a little sheepish, shrinking into his chair as Ray approached her, looping his arms around her waist to pull her back to his chest.

He, too, was in awe of his wife, finding it ridiculously hot when she took charge and laid down the law with her confidence and authority. He nuzzled her hair and neck as the girl nodded shyly, promising to be more assertive next time.

"I've had a lot of practice. This doofus used to be and still is a handful," (y/n) joked, reaching a hand up to stroke Ray's hair as he smooched her jawline loudly, making her shriek. It was nauseatingly cute, causing Miles to loudly clear his throat as the hero stroked the glittering rings on her finger, wildly in love with his darling girl, to notice the children swanning around the room.

"You still married me, though, Mrs Manchester..."

"Of course, Mr Manchester."

"Get a room, you guys..." the boy said in a sing-song voice, making the woman giggle when her husband sighed and grumbled. He longed for their honeymoon days when he could openly kiss and love her without a pesky child whining about decency and celibacy.

But Miles was right; they had places to go and people to meet, and any kiss would be ten times sweeter in France. So, the man pecked her cheek and released his wife, clearing his throat before heading back to the door, wondering where that Goober was. At least one kid seemed abnormally focused on his task...

"Bose! Bring the stuff outside."

"You got it, boss. Remember, I am Boooooose..." the long-haired boy replied nasally - almost like he had a cold - as he bent over and fiddled with the zipper on his luggage.

It was strange; he'd been hunched over the damn thing for at least fifteen minutes, ignoring anyone and everything around him, even as his friends ran around doing a million tasks at once. He'd never concentrated so hard in the few months he'd been at the fake school, and it was rare for him not to wander around with that dimpled smile like nothing was wrong in the world.

Instead, he did not show his face, looking through thick hair strands with his hood tightly pulled over his head. Very odd, and that voice... It was so familiar, but not like Bose's, prompting Ray and (y/n) to whip around with deep frowns. He knew that adenoidal tone...

'Wait a minute..." Ray growled, sniffing the air like a bloodhound as he stomped to the quiet boy, sensing something was wrong. It was those superhero instincts... "I knew I smelled science in here!"

Everyone gasped as the man yanked the hood from Bose's head, only to find an imposter was among them.

Turning around with a terrified face after being discovered, the team were shocked to see Schwoz staring back at them in a very clever disguise. If he had played his cards a little better, no one would've noticed the deception since his costume was so good, complete with a very Bosey wig, his signature blue hoodie, skinny jeans, and trainers.

The resemblance was uncanny but not good enough.

"Can you smell science?" (y/n) pondered, knowing her doofus hated anyone behaving smarter than him but smelling it? That was a little crazy, even for him.

"Schwoz, why are you dressed like that?" She moved on, standing beside Ray as she looked the small man up and down, wondering what he was thinking.

"'Cause I want to go to Paris! It's the city of love--and I want to fall in love!" Ah, a stowaway. Schwoz gazed at his friends with misty, wonder-filled eyes, looking every bit the hopeless romantic that (y/n) often saw in her sappy movies. Hearing him talk about feelings and emotions was a little out of character. Still, it warmed her heart as she smiled warmly - she was a sucker for romance, no matter who it involved.

"Awwww..."

"That's strangely adorable."

"The heart seeks what it needs!" She cooed with the kids, clutching her chest as her heartstrings sang. They all thought it was adorable, mirroring the genius's dopey, hopeful smile as he imagined meeting a tall, beautiful bombshell along the Seine. Ray, however, wasn't so smitten, scoffing loudly as he sneered at his handyman.

"First of all, we're not going to Paris to fall in love," he said firmly, pointing a stern finger in Schwoz's face. He fell in love in Swellview, not halfway around the world, so anyone else's feelings didn't matter.

"We're going to Paris because the French Captain Man is on strike. Second of all, everybody knows you're going to die alone!"

"Raymond! How could you be so mean?!" (y/n) scolded her doofus as the poor guy gasped loudly, undoubtedly wounded by his boss' harsh words. Ray flinched under her sharp gaze, but she didn't waver, wondering if he'd be so cruel if someone said the same to him; after all, their relationship seemed hopeless initially.

"...Monsieur Man is on strike?" Schwoz asked incredulously, clueless about how the woman's face fell when he brushed over the apparent insult. Maybe it secretly hurt him, but he didn't show it, staring up at Ray, who smooched her cheek as an apology - although she didn't hear him apologise to the little guy.

"Yes!" Instead, he turned on the smartboard, where he had the front page of France's online leading newspaper. All anyone could gossip about was how the city's leading superhero refused to work and Monsieur Man was very popular.

In some ways, he looked very similar to Ray, or at least (y/n) could see the similarities. He was stereotypically handsome with solid and masculine features, thick biceps, and shoulder-length, slicked-back blond hair. His uniform was a little strange, designed like Ray's, with a long-sleeved white undershirt covered by a zip-up tunic in the French flag's colours.

"I am Monsieur Man!"

He spoke with a thick, French accent, flashing his crazy eyes at the camera as he sipped from an espresso cup. Maybe in an alternate universe, she would've dated him. Still, her better instincts said he wasn't the same as her doofus - a little too eccentric and cheesy for her liking.

"They need us to protect France's greatest national treasures until he agrees to go back to work."

"Yeah, how long is that going to take?" Miles asked, praying that the Parisian hero was reasonable and easy to handle. He could lie to his parents a bit - a weekend field trip - but anything longer and they'd get suspicious. Also, who wanted to spend more than a few days in the city of love with Mr and Mrs Manchester?

"Not sure. We'll have to ask when we get there," (y/n) replied, leaning up on her tippy-toes to peck Ray's lips. She could barely wait, sharing a bright smile with him as they imagined everything they'd see and do together, squeezing hands without realising everyone was watching. Mika thought it was adorable, and Schwoz could only hope for a love like theirs.

"I don't speak French..." the boy added, wondering what they'd do once they landed. Ray couldn't work with others, so a translator had to be out of the question. Maybe just some very well-timed hand gestures?

"That's okay. Je parle un peu français. Je l'ai étudié au lycée, donc on devrait survivre," the heroine replied smoothly, her cheeks slightly warm as the children quirked their eyebrows at her - even Miles was mildly impressed, which was no mean feat.

Ray curled his arms around her waist, pulling his beloved wife to his rumbling chest, practically purring as the beautifully romantic words wrapped around her tongue before soothing his ears. She had to be trying to seduce him, right? Looking up at him through those lashes, smiling cutely, kissing his jaw...he had to be the luckiest man in the world.

"That's so hot, darlin'..." he murmured in her ear, hugging her closely as Schwoz sighed dejectedly, longing for love like theirs. They giggled and whispered to each other, cheeks superheating when Ray asked if she could kiss like the French, too, but he pulled away when the kids coughed awkwardly. Right...he forgot they were there.

"Anyway, you don't have to learn French--French is just English but with very ridiculous accents!"

"That's very ridiculously wrong," Mika mumbled, stunned when her so-called teacher put on the worst impression of a Frenchman she'd ever seen. His voice was thick and heavily accented, finished with a little Frenchy laugh, but he couldn't be further from the truth.

"Such a doofus, mon amour..." (y/n) sighed, shaking her head, but she leaned up to kiss him anyway. Love was in the air, making them extra affectionate and cuddly as they buzzed with anticipation for their romantic break, even if it was technically for work.

The hero grinned against her lips until an alarm sounded, painting the walls red momentarily before Chapa and Bose dropped from the ceiling in their chairs. They'd been grabbing some last-minute essentials from upstairs - weapons, gadgets, underwear - bringing everything down in large, heavy-duty, carry-on bags. They were late, making Ray frown as he glanced at his phone again - where was that Goober?

"Sorry, I'm late! I couldn't find my hoodie," Bose said as he placed the bag on his desk, only to look across at Schwoz and see him wearing his looted sweater. No wonder he couldn't find it; it was part of the genius' cunning disguise.

"Hey, I have that same hoodie! And that same hair!"

"You pack all out travelin' weapons?" Ray asked Chapa after wandering over to her side, looking too damn handsome in that jacket. And seeing him in his tight jeans and the black muscle shirt underneath? Nothing made (y/n) drop to her knees quicker...

"Yeah," Chapa confirmed, having run around the Man's Nest like a madwoman when the hero snapped his fingers and demanded she find everything they'd need to protect themselves in a foreign country. And obviously, he couldn't do it, monitoring the taxi and smooching his beloved wife. Critical stuff.

"You got Lil' Sizzler?" He asked, his lips twitching upward when the girl nodded diligently for every weapon he listed. "The Smoke Wagon? The Mean Wheel?"

"Trick question. There is no weapon called The Mean Wheel..."

"Okay, Chapa..." Ray grinned, thoroughly impressed by her attention to detail and in-depth knowledge. She didn't miss a beat, knowing everything she'd left in the pack, which, strangely enough, was identical to the one Bose had packed - the one he rummaged through as they chatted. Unzipping the gym bag, he pulled out a weird-looking device, like a child's windmill, with half a dozen stickers of his grumpy face stuck to each point as it spun around.

"I got a Mean Wheel right here. You show it to the bad guy, and when he all the mean faces on it, he's like, put that away! It's so mean!" Oh, sweet boy. He meant well, but God, he was simple.

"Oh, Bosey..." (y/n) shook her head with a sigh as Ray flashed the kid a wobbly smile, swapping a look with his sweet girl.

"Lemme holla at you for a second," Miles murmured to his fellow sidekick, placing a warm, kind hand on Bose's shoulder as he pulled him aside for a quick chat, leaving the happy couple with Chapa. Someone needed to tell him why that windmill thing wasn't appropriate, and the boys were particularly close, even if Miles' patience only stretched so far.

"So, I was thinking...when we're in Paris, we have to kiss on top of the Eiffel Tower!" (y/n) mentioned to her doofus as the boys talked a few paces away. She turned in his arms, grinning at him as Ray hummed and kissed her forehead, knowing he'd do anything she asked. He didn't mind what they did, willing to show her the entire city if she wanted, but he couldn't help but tease her a little.

"Can't we kiss anywhere else?" He smirked, stroking her curves as Chapa gagged at his side. God, every minute of every damn day...they couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

"Well, duh, you big doof! But it's a tradition! All couples kiss on top of the Eiffel Tower."

"Well, I can arrange that..." the man growled, leaning down to kiss his wife as she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and humming appreciatively.

As they smooched, utterly entranced by the nerves, excitement, and love in the air, the girl by their side groaned and shook her head. She always wore a frown, but this was something else - deep, stern, and severe, etched into her baby-like features the longer they locked lips.

"No fair! So, you guys get to go off doing all your kissy-kissy stuff while we do all the work!" She complained, forcing the couple to break apart as Ray scowled, ignoring how Bose skipped upstairs to look for something. Honestly, he could never love her properly with these little shits around...

"Hey! Can't a man take his incredibly hot wife on a romantic trip?" He asked, squeezing (y/n) 's hips as she rolled her eyes and lovingly kissed his cheek, running her wedding rings down his freshly shaven face. Before she could coo about how unbelievably handsome he was or Chapa could argue otherwise, Mika piped up, looking perturbed.

"Hey, Ray?" She called out, standing and looking through the window while everyone nattered. She'd watched a large, mini-van-type vehicle pulled up outside the school, loitering by the curb as the driver glowered at the front door. He didn't look happy - impatient like every taxi driver - making her gulp as she turned toward the hero.

"There's a Goober LUX SUV outside."

"Oh, my stars! MY stars!" The man gasped, yanking his PearPhone from his pocket and baulking when he noticed the app said his car was here - and his rating was going down. He must've missed the notification, too distracted by his wife's sweet lips or the dumb kid's stupidity.

"What, doofus?" (y/n) quirked an eyebrow, quickly following her lover as he dashed around the room in panic.

"I missed the alert, darlin'! Now, my five-star rating is going down! C'mon, C'mon, C'mon, C'mon! S'go, S'go, S'go!" He urged them all, clapping his hands as everyone jumped into action.

The kids grabbed a bag, swiftly wheeling the suitcases toward the door, including Bose, who lowered his face to the floor. He hurried toward the door without saying a word, frantic into the Goober without glancing at his friends, especially the happy couple. (y/n) grabbed her case, too, nudging Ray's until he raced over to take both, not wanting to see her lift a finger.

"Chapa!"

"What?--" Ray tossed a heavy bag toward the girl before shoving a suitcase toward her knees like a bowling ball. The force nearly toppled her over, but he didn't care, flashing his beloved wife a brilliant smile before holding his hand out for her to take. He practically dragged her to the car, but (y/n) didn't mind, tottering along with a giddy giggle.

This was the beginning of her romantic break, and no one would ruin it.

Everyone was so eager and rushed that no one noticed how Bose expertly programmed the Man's Nest security programme, which involved inputting a code far beyond his technical capabilities. The kid could barely count to ten, yet he punched in the string of numbers without issue, activating dozens of skin-searing lasers that crisscrossed every room should any burglar dare to break in.

With that, he scuttled out of the door with his case, closing and bolting the door behind him, dashing toward the car with a mischievous grin. No one would ever know...the genuine Bose would be safe and snug in the Nest, and Schwoz would find the woman of his dreams.

*bonjour mis amis. je have le smutti smut - oui-oui. if les enfants amongst us could shut their eyes for the next 5k, that would be lovely, and everyone avert your screens from your mothers.

(Raymond secretly wants a baby zut alors!)

SKIP IF YOU DON'T FANCY IT! ONWARDS!*

"Holy shit, doofus. This place is insane..."

"Anything for my best girl..." The hero grinned at his wife as she marvelled at their hotel room. She chucked her jacket over a regal chair draped in gold silk with a polished mahogany frame, offering both opulence and comfort. Its gracefully curved legs and delicate embellishments made it a statement piece of luxury. Yet, it was the bed she focused on.

In the grandeur of the bedroom, the luxurious mattress commanded attention with soft sheets and plush, tufted velvet cushions. Crafted from polished mahogany, too, the bedframe boasted ornate carvings, while a canopy of sheer curtains added a romantic touch to the opulent retreat, inviting anyone who entered to indulge in a haven of rest and relaxation. She fell backwards onto it, testing the plushness and sighing, knowing this was the epitome of comfort as her husband laughed.

Paris was a bit of her. The culture was clever, all elegance and the finer things in life as the city lights twinkled in the darkness. They'd landed quite late - past nine - and headed straight for the hotel, which was far too expensive and fancy for four tweens, but Ray paid for double twin rooms. He had to if he wanted to wine and dine his sweet girl, booking them into an executive suite facing the Champs de Mars.

It was one of the best rooms available--anything to see her smile. Everything had a lovely, warm glow from the furniture's pastel hues. The wallpaper was French - thick, glittery, and doubtlessly expensive with its gold, elaborate design. The carpet was plush, creamy, and woollen, caressing her feet as she stood up and padded across the room, dodging the seventeenth-century sideboards and coffee table.

"Oh, Raymond..." (y/n) breathed as she pulled one of the chintz drapes back from the window and peered at the outside world.

An iconic structure illuminated the city skyline with a golden glow, its intricate lattice of lights shimmering against the dark canvas of the night sky. The city below was a tapestry of twinkling lights. The Eiffel Tower stood as a timeless sentinel as the couple gazed out, casting a romantic spell over the heroine.

She didn't want to imagine how much he'd paid for the view, glancing back over her shoulder as Ray pressed his front to her back, enjoying it with her. His hands held her hips as he rested his chin on her shoulder, silently smirking to himself for a job well done at her awed expression. He took it as a sign he'd chosen well, feeling his heart sing when she took in every aspect, not wanting to lose a moment.

"Do you like it?" He whispered, kissing her neck as she nodded slowly, barely aware of reality as the lights twinkled on The Eiffel Tower. It was breathtakingly beautiful, although he was looking at someone else.

"Of course, doof! I've always dreamed of seeing The Eiffel Tower..." (y/n) sighed dreamily, leaning her forehead on the cool glass as her hand laid over the one on her hip. "Thank you..."

"I promised I'd make all your dreams come true when I married you, pretty girl."

"You didn't have to book us into the fanciest hotel in town, though..." She giggled, squirming at the ticklish sensation of his lips on her skin, but she couldn't be happier. His wedding band felt hot, hard, and heavy on her waist, slightly digging into her as he kept rubbing around his favourite spots...hips, tummy, and ass, up her ribcage until he nearly brushed under her breasts.

"Bose was so shocked he couldn't say a word, poor kid..."

"Go big or go home, darlin'. And besides, I have a dream too..." Ray mumbled, losing himself in his wife's soft body and floral-scented hair.

The mention of that kid barely passed his mind, forgetting how uncharacteristically quiet and shy the boy was when they checked in. He barely said goodnight, not that the hero cared. He couldn't drag his wife into their bedroom quick enough, eager to have her all to himself in the lap of luxury because they didn't get to do this very often. Not with those little demons knocking on the door every day.

"Really?" (y/n) asked quietly, feeling a new heat pulsing through her veins from his wandering fingertips. It didn't help how he'd stripped off his red jacket, revealing the deliciously tight black muscle shirt underneath. He looked so fucking hot, standing there in all black with his biceps bulging every time he moved his arms.

Every inch of him was pressed against her, hands glued to her waist, and there was nowhere to go but the cityscape before her.

"Oh, yeah..." he replied, lightly nibbling a spot just below her ear before bringing his lips back up, whispering in a sultry, throaty voice.

"I've always wanted to say I fucked my wife in Paris."

"Raymond!" She gasped, half-scandalised, half-pulsating with heat. She sounded shocked, but it was a little late for that at this point. She was used to his antics, familiar with how he said it how it was, revelling in his blatant and unapologetic love and lust for her. So used to it, in fact, that the brief feeling - which could've been shock - passed all too quickly, painting a coquettish grin on her face in its wake.

She turned her head to glance at him over her shoulder, giggling when his nose nuzzled into her cheek, mirroring her heated expression. His lips brushed her skin, holding her waist a little tighter as he pulled her ass back into his body. He was obvious and unashamed in every way, rolling his pelvis into her, nipping her jaw a little.

"What? Don't you want me to ravish you, sweet girl? This is the City of Love, after all," Ray teased, a rumble in his voice when she rocked her hips with his, wiggling her butt as she pushed against the glass. A little minx in his mitts, just as unabashed as he was as she tilted her chin up, encouraging the marks he sucked into her skin.

There wasn't a hint of rejection. Not even a suggestion that she didn't want him as much as he wanted her. If anything, she slumped against the pane more, arching her spine while his fingers danced with the button on her jeans. But indeed, giving in from the off wasn't as fun.

"The kids are next door..." A pathetic excuse - murmured through lips curled upwards, making the man snarl.

Frankly, he didn't give a shit. He had the girl of his dreams in his embrace, lovingly trapped with nowhere to go--his wife, hot, ready, aching to take his cock. He wouldn't stop for anyone, and certainly, not four little Satan-spawns, who made it their mission in life to steal him away in the morning, interrupting every clinch with their problems, groaning at every stolen kiss.

It was time to test if his money was well-spent, to see if this hotel really was le triomphe de Paris--if anyone could push the soundproofing to its limits, it was them.

"They won't hear a thing," he replied curtly, running his middle finger around the jean button before expertly popping it open with his forefinger and thumb. His sweet, precious girl didn't struggle, whining as another hand snuck around her body to grasp and fondle her tit, stealing that argument from her mind as she bucked into his touch.

"W-we only just got here..." (y/n) gasped as he squeezed whatever he could grab, dipping into her pants only to stop when she went and ruined it. She loved playing games, and Ray loved a challenge.

"No time like the present," he shot back instantly, wasting no time in moving past her panties and into her slick, circling her clit as he gathered her wetness on his fingers.

Humming in the back of his throat, he approved of how her body did all the talking, juddering when the heel of his palm ground against her sensitive flesh. Soft moans fell from her mouth as he hunched over her body, playing it to a tune only he knew when he found her nipple through her shirt and bralette. That pulled a sharper whine from her, and when he bit the side of her neck...the fight left her.

No more teasing. Just a sweet girl and her doofus in the most romantic city on Earth, in a suite designed to give the ultimate satisfaction.

"Take me to the bed, then, doofus..." the heroine begged, nails scraping down the window as he unhurriedly toyed with her.

"No..." Ray replied lowly, smirking evilly since he was enjoying the game she started. She - the girl of his dreams - was putty in his embrace, keening at the slightest touch until she dripped for him, soiling the loose jeans barely clinging to her hips. They shimmied down her body, making them both desperate to rip them off and get on with it, but he had a different idea. When in Paris...

"First, you'll take me right here, right now. Let the whole city see how well you take me."

His mouth was hot against her ear, whispering harshly as she nodded without thought, becoming drunk and pliant on his throaty tone and thick fingers - the way they cupped between her legs to tease at her entrance.

Usually, she'd never be so daring, rationality telling her that anyone - one of the hundreds of tourists exploring the city's nightlife - could look up and see them in a lust-fuelled tangle. Then, the nerves kicked in, whispering about how they'd be the next internet sensation, how the hotel would kick them out, how the world would know what they did. Usually.

To her surprise, (y/n) found herself equally hungry, clammy palms leaving the window and their prints behind to roughly shove her jeans down her hip until they gathered at her knees. Then, it was just a matter of shimmying them down her calves and stepping out of them, kicking them to the side without a spare thought once her lower half was bare and accessible for her doofus.

"Such a needy girl..." he chuckled, although he didn't waste the opportunity. With more space to manoeuvre, his fingers slipped through her slit with ease, smearing her wetness around her clit until she sobbed, nodding weakly.

"Such a good girl for me, though..."

A hand curled around her throat, pulling her forehead away from the cool glass until she tilted the base of her skull on his shoulder. Her torso was a canvas for him to roam, tweaking her breasts while he twisted his neck to kiss her, tongue messily running across her lips to tangle with hers.

"Want my cock, pretty girl?" He asked breathlessly after they pulled apart, and (y/n) didn't miss the angelic note in his tone. She could never understand how he could say such vulgar things so nonchalantly. Still, either way, she loved it, gasping, begging, vigorously jerking her head in a reverent yes.

God, yes, she wanted it. Wanted his cock. The only thing that could soothe the ache in her pussy, five stories up, watching over the city of Paris with him all over her like a rash. It was daring, it was dangerous, it was downright obscene, but yes, she wanted it.

"Your words, darlin'. Say it," Ray cooed, hissing through his teeth when his beloved wife turned to jelly in his arms, merely presenting her ass against the hardened length trapped in those black skinny jeans.

But that was boring--too easy to just fuck her now without making her ravenous. Hearing her desire was hot - hotter than self-gratification could ever be.

"I want it..." (y/n) mumbled quietly, her lips feeling fuzzy and clumsy like she'd spent the afternoon knocking back shot after shot of hard liquor. She'd say anything he wanted to hear if it meant he'd be deep inside her, screwing the lust and longing out, trusting her beloved idiot to take care of everything she couldn't think about.

"Louder. Do you want to be fucked or not?" The hero growled, hands still against her clit and tit when her pitiful attempt barely made it to his ears. Where was the woman who commanded his home like a queen? The one who often straddled his hips and rode him with authority and conviction?

"Yes!" She cried a sudden desperation fuelling her sharp shout when the dear pleasure he gave her was ripped away. Her hips rolled into his fingertips, chasing the hazy delight. Yet he retreated before she could, bringing them to his lips instead so he could suck the honey off them - down to the goddamn knuckle.

"Fuck, please, doofus...fuck me. Give me your cock."

"Right now? Right here? Wanna give all those people a show?" Ray grinned, licking at the delicious sweetness on his lips, eager to have another taste if she'd let him. But first, he needed to be inside her, straining against his jeans when she tucked her nose under his jaw and whimpered.

"Fuck me hard, Captain. Give it to me."

"That's my girl." He moved in an instant, shoving her back against the window with an unusual but not unwelcome roughness so she was braced against the glass again. His foot kicked her ankles apart, spreading her legs a little further, opening his favourite view in the world while he hurried to free himself. God, he never tired of eyeing her so ready, wet, and frantic for him.

Arching her back, (y/n) waited for what she craved, smiling tipsily when she heard the gentle, unmistakable jingle of his belt buckle as Ray shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs - just enough to free himself. He took his rigid length into his hand, pumping the achingly hard flesh with a groan as he guided the tip to her blazing cunt, sliding it through her folds.

A moan left her lips at the sensation, mewling when he rubbed himself against her clit to cover himself in slick.

He couldn't help but grunt at the relief of fisting his cock, staring at her pretty cunt as it fluttered and clenched around nothing in anticipation. It was tempting to keep going, fuck himself to the biggest walking turn-on he'd ever seen. Still, Ray stopped himself, curling his forefinger and thumb around the base of his cock to will himself to calm down.

"Fuckin' take it..." he growled lowly as he guided himself down to her entrance and pushed in, hissing when he felt that all-too-familiar tightness engulf his cock.

Like always, there was some slight resistance, willing to force him back out until he surged forward, parting her walls as (y/n) wailed. The thickness was heavenly, making her jaw go slack and eyes flutter shut when his groin pressed against her ass, fully sheathed inside his sweet girl. She clenched around him, now sucking him in, squeezing him tightly like nothing he'd ever felt before, and it felt like coming home.

"Oh, pretty girl, you feel so good."

"Don't make me wait, Ray..." (y/n) whimpered, planting her feet a little further apart to give him more room, enticing him to start moving. Slick was dripping down her thighs at this point, allowing her lover to inch a little deeper, but he wasn't particularly fussed.

He held her hips flush against his whilst he ran kisses from the edge of her shoulder to her neck, panting harshly and trying to reign in his desire - she'd never believe his lack of control when he had his wife in his arms.

"Keep those pretty eyes on the city. Leave me to my husbandly duties," Ray muttered against her throat with a smirk, gently sucking and nipping on her skin as he began to pull and push into her.

They groaned together at the friction, clawing hands leaving greasy streaks down the window pane as his cock dragged against her walls, providing sweet relief. Starting off slow, the man hummed lowly in his throat as he steadily coated himself in her, rubbing her hips as he tried not to get too excited. He felt so deep inside her from this angle, marvelling at the sight of her bare flesh and the moans she made.

"Fuck--harder--" She pleaded whinily, wiggling her hips to try and force herself back onto him, taking matters into her own hands. The slow, gentle, shallow thrusts were pathetic and maddening, barely enough to satisfy the ache deep within her.

She needed the rough, brutal pace only he could give her, but Ray stopped her movements, holding her waist, when his mouth suddenly appeared next to her ear, hot and harsh.

"I said, look outside. Don't waste this view," he spat, a large hand shooting up to cup his chin and force her to turn to Paris again - like she could concentrate on anything but him. "And I'll look at this one."

With his sweet girl staring blankly at the warm, twinkling lights and traffic-heavy roads, the hero pawed at her body and took a step back to admire her. He'd swear on the book that he'd never seen anything so beautiful in all his born days, trailing his gaze from her naked back and shoulders to the reflection of her breasts in the glass to her hips and the delicious crease between her thighs.

God, he could stare at it all day, licking his lips as he studied every minute detail of how stuffed her cunt looked with his cock crammed inside. She took him so well, stretched and drenched around him, piecing a sinful picture together in his head, which he tucked away for a rainy day.

His hands kneaded her ass, parting her cheeks to see the puckered hole that only he knew - a vulgar secret and privilege he'd never take for granted. Although, perhaps he'd take it later on when he'd fucked her pussy numb.

"Feels so good, Captain," (y/n) gasped, glueing her eyes to the skyline as her husband moved again, finding a rough, sweet pace that had them slumping against the window like rutting animals.

"I know, darlin'. Shit, your pussy feels so good," he groaned from above, belt buckle jingling with every movement of his hips. His skin was blazing, still dressed from head to toe, but it only inspired liquid fire in the heroine's veins; glancing down to her right to see his biceps in that black muscle shirt.

Her pussy fluttered at the image conjured in her head: sweat clinging to his skin, strands of hair falling from his gelled quiff, the trail of hair down his navel peeking out from the hem of that stupidly hot shirt from where he'd shoved his jeans down those toned thighs.

She just knew he looked like sin and heaven and everything she needed for another gush of slick to run down her thighs, making her lover snarl and smirk.

"You fuckin' love this, don't you?" He chuckled, resting his forearm on the window as he snapped his cock into her harder, nosing her cheek as (y/n) struggled to breathe--see--think, let alone speak.

"Wha--?"

"Anyone could look up now and see you, and you don't give a shit. These pretty fuckin' tits are on show for the world, but you're mine, aren't you?" Ray growled, releasing her iron grip on her pelvis to gather a fistful of hair, bringing her head back towards his.

He'd never hurt her; a gentleness in everything he did, even when he slapped and pinched at her stiff nipples - moans falling from her lips with every tweak and tug. Something green, dark, and ugly rose within him when he thought about someone else seeing her like this, bare and beautiful, which should've been for his eyes only, but it merely made him fuck harder.

Anyone would look up and see him fucking her, his touch making her cry in ecstasy, his ring on her finger.

"Yes--sh-shit, yes!" She nodded weakly, a thrum of pleasure passing through her as her doofus wrapped himself around her, her bare back to his fully clothed front.

"You love this--can feel your cunt squeezing me, dirty little girl."

"'M all yours, Ray. Love how you f-fuck me," the woman stuttered, practically drooling down the glass as he continued ploughing her pussy, bringing forth the release she needed so badly. "God, I wanna cum..."

"Yeah? Wanna cream all over my cock?" Ray cooed with an evil, shit-eating grin as he snaked his hand down to her woefully neglected clit. He'd left it alone for far too long, leaving it exposed and throbbing in the cool air until his fingers began their assault.

"Let me cum! P-Please, I need--I need--I--" (y/n) shrieked at the sensation, lurching forward as he rubbed rapid circles against her most sensitive spot, electrifying her every nerve end.

Her tongue felt clumsy and too big for her mouth. It barely wrapped around each word as she gabbled and babbled like an idiot, feeble and pliant like putty for her doofus.

"Fuck, you can't get enough. This little pussy needs filling every fucking day..." Ray muttered to himself, memories of their previous encounters coming to mind as he fluidly pumped into her, never failing in his rhythm.

Before their flight, she'd begged him to fuck her into their mattress, accidentally nudging their suitcase onto the bedroom floor after he accosted her while packing. Maybe that was hours ago, and perhaps they'd had a quick fumble in the plane toilet, but God, if she was insatiable, he was ravenous. And he'd never, ever say no.

"I'll give you what you need, precious girl--I'll always take care of you..." He mumbled, lapping at her neckline as he played her every weak spot,

"So, cum for me...Let go, sweet girl. Let me feel you...""

It ripped through her on his word, pulsating around his cock as Ray groaned, willing himself to thrust through it, crowding her against the window until he had her tits pressed against them. He kept circling her clit, whispering sweet, filthy nothings in her ears as her fingers clenched and cunt twitched. Soak me...get this pussy ready for me...fuck, I know what you need.

"Shit--Ray!" (y/n) screeched, writhing in his arms when he didn't stop. His thrusts were frantic and fast, balls slapping against his ass as Ray groaned.

He couldn't help it; maybe it was the romantic setting, the thrill of exhibitionism, or the temptation of another round on the bed, but something told him to claim her now. He felt wound up like a coil, endlessly needy and in love with his perfect wife as she became even slicker around him.

He'd undoubtedly make it up to her - in no way planning for the night to end so early. This was only the first round, and he planned to stay inside her all night, to make her see stars with orgasm after orgasm until she didn't know what planet she was on, but first, Ray needed his release.

The sensation of his pretty girl coming around him was convincing enough; it had been hours since he came inside her, and something inside him itched.

It was a peculiar feeling, one he'd never felt in his life until he met and wedded her. The thought of painting her insides with his cum made his thoughts go black, replacing them with deep, carnal desires to see her swell and grow, all because of him. He'd make her grow and change, and fuck, the outcome... He knew she said to wait, but fuck if it didn't excite him, just the thought of giving her a ba--

"Gonna fill you up, sweet girl..." the man choked out, stepping closer until (y/n)'s entire body was pressed against the window, rutting against her ass and a sensitive spot inside her in tiny, grinding thrusts. He felt it getting closer, scolding himself for not lasting.

But her pussy was incredible, stealing his resolve as he curled his arms and brought her into a tight embrace.

"Yeah? Gonna cum inside me, doofus?" She whispered, grinning dopily, still riding her high when she turned to look at him over her shoulder. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he seemed effortlessly handsome as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, panting hard.

"Fuck, yeah..." Ray nodded feverishly, eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he kneaded her tits and tummy, not knowing where to touch, "Gonna stuff this pussy and then--shit--I'll--"

"What, doofus? What do you want? I'll do whatever you want..." His wife asked softly, rocking backwards on the balls of her feet to meet his thrusts, adding a little extra bite to the pleasure that coursed through them. The glass had fogged up, and if any sightseer looked up now, they'd doubtlessly know what was going on, but neither cared.

Everything built up slowly and quickly at once, pushing them further together until the lines of reality blurred with delight, making Ray throw his head back and howl. He returned to her clit, keeping his arms tightly around her frame--like he couldn't bear to let her go, not when the end was so near.

"That's my good girl," he growled, smooching her cheek loudly as he raced through a million daydreams - all of them filthy. On the bed, on the dresser, the vanity table, seeing her on her knees, parting her thighs and diving in, bending her over and pounding her needy little hole until the sun came up.

"I'll eat you out after this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let me have a taste. Let you cum on my face, and then, I'll fuck you again and again," the hero rambled on, sinking further and further into his desire, getting off on everything he wanted to do to her.

"Ray..." And it seemed she wanted it, too. She bent her back, arching into his touch as they fucked harder and harder, chasing their highs. The extra stimulation of her clit brought (y/n) to another peak, tilting her head back against his shoulder, and Ray knew she was his to drain for pleasure.

"Not letting you go tonight, darlin'," he promised against her temple, hot breath rolling across her face as his pace became uneven yet snappier. "I want to have you all night."

"Cum for me, then, doof. Fill me up," (y/n) coaxed, finding his hand on her breath and threading her fingers through it, holding it over her heart as she whispered the sweetest words of the night. "I'll let you fuck my ass."

It ended him. A harsh gasp ripped from the man as his hips pressed into hers as far as possible. Warmth spread inside the heroine as he stilled, saying nothing but rushed mumblings of her name and small groans, holding his sweet girl as tight as he could. She came second, milking him in gentle waves, mewling softly as he painted her insides before all of Paris.

Strong arms - those bulking biceps - held her safe, cooling their blazing, sticky bodies against the steamy window, refusing to pull out since his pearly load was so precious. It felt right to keep it inside her - it scratched the itch, and even though he knew they shouldn't, it didn't mean he couldn't dream.

Just knowing she was full to the brim with his cum, knowing one day he'd have the satisfaction of seeing her swell, was enough. For now.

"Oh, fuck, Ray..." (y/n) sighed once they slumped against the window, fingers cupping her breasts and gently squeezing - more of a comfort thing than sensual.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, sighing deeply as she leaned her weight back on him at his gentle touch, humming in mild discontent when she realised he was still wearing clothes. Admittedly, very hot clothes that made him look like some kind of God, but still. She wanted the intimacy of skin-on-skin, but that would be in a bit - once they had a breather.

"Good? He asked, kissing her shoulder, and he felt the weight of her flesh in his hands. He'd never seen someone so beautiful, utterly besotted.

"Good," she confirmed breathlessly with a delicate smile, reaching behind her to bring his face to hers. They shared a brief kiss, so soft compared to when he ploughed her senseless. "So good."

"Good," Ray smiled, squeezing her body before gazing at the skyline, all doe-eyed and gooey inside. The night sky was stunning, the warm glow of the lights even more so, but his sweet girl? She was everything he ever wanted and needed, looking so perfect with his softening cock still deep inside her.

"I'm yours, too, y'know..." he muttered after a few moments of silence, "I want you to be mine so bad, darlin', but I'm yours too. You've got me--forever."

"I know, Ray. I love you, too," (y/n) sighed, rubbing her hand over his, grinning when she heard the slight chink of their wedding rings bumping together.

To say she was glowing was an understatement; she was safe, happy, and warm with her husband, even if she realised post-entanglement that they'd played a risky game - fun but scandalous.

"Can't believe we just fucked in front of the most famous city in the world."

"I'm hearing no complaints...In fact, you begged for it. Screamed," Ray grinned, and upon hearing the smirk in his voice, (y/n) whacked his shoulder, albeit with warm cheeks and a grin of her own.

Perhaps that was true, but people in glass houses... He made himself sound like such a prude. Yet, really, he was the horniest man she'd ever met, and the one with his pants hanging around his knees because he'd been so desperate - the one who'd still not yet pulled out because he was hoping to get lucky again.

"Only because you seduced me! Like you did before we left home and were on the plane. You're a bad influence, you big doofus." She giggled, gasping slightly when their bodies moved, making his cock drag against her walls.

It wasn't the best argument, given how her eyes fluttered closed, biting her lip in what Ray saw as an utterly seductive move. Was she trying to make him want her? Because it was working, he whispered hotly against her ear, suddenly serious and baritone, his voice as smooth as a rich, dark chocolate.

"Can't a man make love to his wife?"

"Against a window for the world to see?" (y/n) gulped when he tweaked her nipples again, sending all-too-familiar shockwaves down her spine as her sensitive core tingled. Ray was silent and simply leaned forward for a filthy kiss - all tongue and teeth as he planned his next move. What was that offer she made again?

His eyes glanced down to where their bodies connected, feeling himself harden inside her again when he observed the deliciously slick flesh engulfing his cock. Only he had a different goal, pulling out of her entirely to a chorus of petulant whines as he drifted north.

He'd give the city a show, wanting his precious wife ruined and speechless by the end of the night. It started when he pressed himself into her tight passage, turning whimpers into wails and gasps as he whispered...

"Well, when in Paris, sweetheart..."

*je suis sweating after that, mon amors. mais oui, mais oui ray wants his baby so bad (and I do too but not yet ruth.)

children, open les peepers and let's go forth. we've got some weird mime shit to get through and endless bits of pda from our doofus and sweet girl.

allon-sy! (said the 10th--or 14th???--doctor).

~The next morning~

The team rose bright and early, donning their uniforms before heading to a quirky cafe in downtown Paris.

Everything was so French, unsurprisingly, with freshly baked bread, croissants and coffee for breakfast, walking down the street to the sound of an accordion. Of course, Ray and (y/n) went hand-in-hand, wearing matching lightweight, waterproof jackets for the cool morning air, and they adored the city of love.

It screamed them, strolling with enamoured smiles as the kids trailed behind them, chatting about the thrill of being in a foreign country. Bose was a little quiet, but (y/n) supposed it could be jet lag, and her doofus had already swept her into a passionate kiss before she could think about it further.

She entered the cafe first, ears warming when Ray opened the door for her like a true gentleman, even if he left Danger Force to fend for themselves. He strolled in like he owned the place, looking ridiculously handsome in his Captain Man costume.

He faced a hoity-toity old lady with a sour expression and an alarmingly bright red jacket, tie, and crisp white shirt - her name was Marie, and she had the joy of being their host.

"All right, everybody! Calm down! America's here!" Captain Man announced as he walked toward the woman and unzipped his jacket. Miss Danger gestured for the children to come closer. She was willing to let her husband do most of the talking since only he could saunter around with that level of nonchalant confidence.

"All right, first things first, I got a couple'a great jokes about French people, so let's dive right in. How many French people does it take to surrender to--" Or perhaps not.

"Okay, doofus, we're not gonna go there!" (y/n) shouted above his voice, jumping forward to push him away before he could say anything offensive. They'd not even been there for twenty seconds, and he'd already scandalised his host, etching a deep frown on her face - some things were still too raw to talk about.

"Je suis de le mond désolé pour lui," Mika crooned to the woman with her sweetest smile, hoping to smooth things over as her friend gave the hero a stern look.

She'd sat with them on the plane, and when they didn't sneak off to the bathroom together - which was obvious to her - she'd had a few French lessons from (y/n). Not much, just enough for the average tourist, but Marie looked at her like she'd grown a second head when she put it into practice.

"I'm sorry. I do not understand," the older woman replied in a thick, French accent, making the group's Smarties frown.

"But she was speaking French," (y/n) pointed out, coming up from behind Mika to gently place her hands on the girl's shoulders. Ray's soft eyes followed her every move, but he smirked at his young sidekick, ready to deploy his smug face.

"But no! French is just English with a very ridiculous accent!"

"See? I'm right about everything," he told Mika arrogantly when she turned to him with that stupid and annoying face. Marie was nice enough, but that couldn't be right...and she desperately wanted to smack him.

"Oh, doofus..." (y/n) sighed and shook her head at him, but as always, she couldn't help but smile and peck his cheek.

Ray was just too adorable to her when he looked at her with that dopey grin, sliding his arm around her waist as Mika rolled her eyes. Deep down, he knew she was right, glaring at the French woman for being so ridiculed.

"This place kinda looks like Hip Hop Purée," Chapa mentioned as she wandered around the café, noting the similarities.

The counter was in the same place with all the snacks and drinks, the logo on the wall was similar, and the decor screamed modern American culture. Save for the random memorabilia and displays around the room and the name difference with Paris, the heroes felt at home - almost as if they hadn't gone transatlantic.

"But of course! We want you to feel at home while you guard our national treasures," Marie replied, dramatically gesturing around the room with elegant sweeps of her arms.

"Well, I guess somebody has to," Ray retorted as the woman moved to the priceless artefacts they had to protect. His gaze slid to the only other Parisian in the room, glaring harshly at the blond, garlicky man as he spun around in an ergonomic chair and sipped an espresso with an unbothered, clueless smile. "Since Monsieur Man over there is on strike."

"That is correct. I will not fight crime until someone buys me a pretty pink motorcycle," he replied defiantly, looking almost ridiculous in his copycat uniform. (y/n) had heard how he was popular with the ladies, sharing many characteristics with Captain Man, except he hadn't found a sweet girl of his own yet. She supposed he was handsome somehow, but he had nothing on her husband.

"I'm sick of taking the subway! I want to drive around and say, beep, beep, beep! Out of my way! I am Monsieur Man!"

"Okay..." Was all Chapa had to say, reacting to his cheery explanation with a flat, bored expression--almost a look of repulsion. She wasn't impressed, wondering why she had to travel thousands of miles for the whims of some spoilt little French boy.

"What are we guarding here?" (y/n) asked, turning to Marie to refocus the group. Still, when she saw the items the hostess had gathered, she wouldn't exactly call them treasures.

"Only the most important treasure in all of France," she said proudly, gazing at the weirdest collection of knickknacks they'd ever seen.

"Napoleon's pants..." She held up the so-called antique, and everyone wrinkled their noses. The garments were pinned to a board for preservation and were tiny as if they belonged to a child. They'd yellowed with age, looking disgustingly old, wrinkled, and manky as she held them to the light.

"The first French bread ever baked..." She gently picked up the long, stick-like baguette like it was made of glass, but dear God, the smell.

The bread had to be decades old and had turned a dark shade of green due to a cakey layer of mould. It was enough to make anyone sick to the stomach, and (y/n) nuzzled against Ray's chest, subtly inhaling his fragrant cologne and not the musky stench from the bread.

"And finally, the original helmets of music superstars, the Daft Punk." She smiled at the futuristic helmets, which made everyone genuinely smile. They could be considered true treasures - part of music history, even if they weren't precisely to Ray's taste.

"Ah...I definitely know who Daft Punk is because I'm cool, and I know cool things," the man commented flatly as he stared at the helmets. Yet, nothing came to mind, not even when the kids cheered and gasped with excitement. Even his sweet girl grinned with awed eyes, her hand clamped over her mouth.

"Really, doofus? I wouldn't have thought they were your thing..." (y/n) frowned confusedly as she squeezed his beefy arm to her body. She knew everything about him, from the colour of his underpants to his childhood imaginary friend to his favourite baby name. This was news to her.

"Name any of their songs," Mika dared him, making the hero freeze, not that he showed it. He couldn't care less about this Daft Punk, but he played it off well, keeping his expression stern and focused as he ignored her.

"There's no time!" He shouted dramatically before snapping his gaze to Chapa. "Volt! Let's get an inventory of those weapons before any of these cheese-eaters try to steal my favourite band's helmets or whatever."

"Uh, we got a problem, Cap..." The girl said slowly as (y/n) glanced at her lover suspiciously, only to look even more perturbed when she heard that. Those weapons were all they had; problems weren't what they needed when they'd left everything else at home.

"We took the wrong bag," she revealed, snatching a familiar item from the gym bag.

Ray scoffed at that doohickey of Bose's creation, his little windmill of angry faces. He hated that thing, but unfortunately, they'd mistaken the proper weapon bag for the identical junk sack, and he growled when he yanked out another bizarrely useless item - a tangled, brightly coloured, shaggy slinky.

"Aw, what? Care to explain this, buddy?" He asked the kid harshly, stomping over with the slinky in hand to where Bose had been deathly silent, keeping himself to himself in a shady corner. It was weird; he was typically so outgoing, but he had barely said a word since they'd left Swellview, and even when his boss snapped, he didn't turn around.

"I can't because I am the dumb one," he replied quietly, sounding like he'd gone swimming in a brewery, slurring his words in a funny voice. His jacket said BrainStorm, but (y/n) narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Bose, honey..." she called out to him, reaching to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. The poor kid sounded like he had the world's worst cold, but as Ray threw the springy tangle into a corner, a sour smell assaulted his nose, a shiver ran down his spine...a deep, instinctive yearning settled in his gut.

"Ew...did someone science in here?!" He questioned in a disgusted tone with a wrinkled face, glancing at his sweet girl and the kids.

"Don't luck at me, doofus! I only do math when you're around to drool..." (y/n) exclaimed as she and Mika held their hands up in defence. They were The Smarties but had barely had enough time to sleep, let alone flex their brains, so it didn't make sense. That is until Ray's nose pointed him somewhere else.

"Wait a minute," he muttered, squinting at Bose's figure. His superhero senses told him something was wrong, especially when he noticed how the boy refused to look at him and how short he seemed to be--a little too shifty.

So, he yanked the hood down, revealing those familiar sickly brown locks and a pair of dark sunglasses. He quickly ripped from his stunned face, and there were a pair of irritatingly familiar, wide, brown eyes locked onto his.

"Schwoz! Dang it!" Ray snapped upon seeing the genius through his cunning disguise, making the others gasp in horror, too. "I thought I told you to stay home, you little nerd!"

Schwoz didn't even need to think about his next move. He'd been busted, and now that the cat was out of the bag, he felt no loyalty to Ray. There was no need to keep up this façade, not when he had a personal mission to complete, so he threw the hero and his sidekicks an anguished glance before bolting for the door.

"I want to find looooooove!"

"Wait...if that was Schwoz...then where's...?" Mika pondered as she stared thoughtfully at Chapa, who was stunned speechless by the handyman's devious actions and dramatic exit.

"Kevin!" Ray screeched in horror, his face a picture of panic when he realised the worst. The thought was there, but come on...

"Um, doofus, you mean, Bose?" (y/n) corrected in a whisper as she hovered by his elbow. She was equally terrified at the heart-stopping thought of accidentally leaving one of her babies in the Nest. Still, she couldn't help but frown when her husband got his name wrong - after so many weeks, if not months, of knowing him.

"I mean--Bose!--I mean, BrainStorm!" He exclaimed dramatically when he realised he lacked his wife's tact, shouting the boy's name when it should've barely been a whisper.

But he got there in the end, and the couple gawped at each other in a state of pure panic; this was the first time they'd forgotten a child in the many years of having them, and it felt like they'd lost a limb. They felt sick to their stomachs, foreheads clammy and fingers trembling as (y/n) slowly shuffled into his embrace, picturing the poor kid alone in the Man's Nest. It broke her heart, and all she could think was how it was her fault.

You didn't check. You should've noticed. You will be responsible if he gets hurt. Her brain always picked the right moments to be so helpful.

"You guys, what happened to Bose?" Chapa asked angrily, breaking them out of their self-loathing. She was aloof and insensitive, but deep down, she cared about her friends--especially the ones who could barely tell a goldfish from a grenade.

"Did we leave him at home?"

"Alone?" Miles gasped, snapping his gaze to his teachers as they gulped.

"Yes! Oh, God...we left BrainStorm at home! Oh, my baby..." (y/n) whimpered, feeling truly awful as she hugged herself. Ray tried to comfort her, keeping his arm around her shoulders as he mournfully stared at the floor before pecking her hair.

"He's my favourite one!" He nodded, not that it helped. The others looked at him offendedly, although Chapa could understand why. Still, (y/n) slapped his chest and tried not to smile or show any sign of approval because that would be wrong. Very wrong.

"Captain Man! We don't have favourites!" She told him firmly, flashing the children a wobbly but sincere smile since she loved them all for unique reasons, but that wasn't important whilst she sunk further into her sadness.

"But poor Bosey...he's probably scared and cold and hungry and tired, and oh, God! Doofus!"

"I know, sweet girl. I know..." Ray sniffled, holding her painfully contorted face against his chest when her rambling turned into anguished, strangled cries. He couldn't bear to see her sad but knew her pain, feeling responsible and guilty despite not showing it; deep down, he cared, and it was enough to bring tears to his eyes, too.

They could picture it now: he'd be tucked up in a corner of their home, not knowing how to find the kitchen or turn up the thermostat. He wouldn't have gotten any sleep, too afraid of the dark and the monsters that could lurk in it since he didn't do well alone. The poor kid must've been terrified, and it was impossible to help him--possibly days before they could go home.

He didn't show it often, but Captain Man would move mountains for his sidekicks, so it mildly shocked them to see him so distraught. The man resorted to squeezing his beloved wife in His embrace, manically petting her soft hair as she fanned her eyes, refusing to show fear in front of her other babies, but they wouldn't stop.

"Somebody call my baby Bose...My poor baby," she whimpered, feeling a little pathetic, but luckily, Mika swiftly fished the PearPhone from her pocket. She had Bose on speed dial, clicking his contact and holding the cell to her ear as the dialling tone beeped.

"Relax, (y/n/n)...I'm calling him."

"It won't work!" A cruel, mocking laugh came from the corner - more like a sneer. Miss Danger flashed her most vicious glare at its owner, wishing she could burn holes in Monsieur Man's head as he sat there, perfectly content and carefree, whilst her world was in chaos.

"Listen here, Pepé Le Pew..." she growled, so ready to sink her claws into him that Ray had to encircle his arms around her waist to keep her at bay, only for another annoying froggy accent to reach her ears.

"The cell phone service you are using, ATandOui, is on strike."

"The whole country is on strike," the French hero explained, coolly sipping his espresso as Ray tried the number to no avail. "They all strike for Monsieur Man. Ha, ha!"

"Okay, that's it! I'm gonna rip his head off. See if he's still smirking then." (y/n) lunged for the man, hoping to at least gouge an eye out or break his nose, but Ray was too swift and strong. He kept her snuggly in his arms, whispering soothing words in her ear to drown out Monsieur Man's victorious huff. She was better than that, even if her babies' safety could make her ferocious.

"If only we had someone who could teleport back home..." Miles suggested dryly, giving the woman a bemused yet tender look, making her ears warm.

"Au revoir, Frenchies," the boy sassed before jerking his arm in the air, disappearing in a flash of golden light. Surprisingly, he didn't reappear half a centimetre to the left or an inch to the right, so Ray and (y/n) assumed he'd returned to the Man's Nest - a much-needed reassurance.

"Nice! One of your superpowers actually worked... Lookin' at you, ShoutOut," the handsome man remarked, which earned a few eye rolls from the girls, but at least his wife perked up, and he was relieved to see her smiling again.

"Wow, you're really gonna go there?" Mika growled, a little hurt, but she had the last laugh when (y/n) reprimanded her doofus like a mother berating her child.

A gentle tug on his earlobe told him to behave, and he begrudgingly apologised to the girl, earning himself a soft kiss. They leaned in, needing a little sweetness after so much distress, but just when their lips were about to touch...

"What are you doing?!"

"Get out of here!" Two disgusted, ladylike voices suddenly bellowed from the female toilets at the back of the café, and a mortified figure burst through the door. It was Miles, who covered his blazingly hot face with his hands after seeing...things. He'd be scarred for life, but nothing was more humiliating than an utter failure.

"Okay, if anyone else is curious, that is the ladies' room," he said meekly as his friends stared at him, making the girls cringe. Nothing was worse than stumbling into a place where you couldn't be less wanted, and he'd really taken one for the team there.

"Anybody else got any ideas?!" Ray asked sternly, still worried and now pissed off since he'd missed a kiss from his sweet girl. And he really needed that kiss.

"I've got an idea!" Monsieur Man called from his cosy corner, ignoring Miss Danger's frosty glances. She'd warm up to him eventually - all women did - so he couldn't help but smile when she rolled her eyes and snarled.

"Merci, but we're good."

"Ah, but mon chéri..." the Parisian hero crooned smoothly with a blinding smile, a little too flirtatious for Ray's liking, as he stiffened and stood closer to her. But Monsieur Man was harmless, shifting his gaze behind them, finding something hilarious as everyone stared at him.

"Why don't you stop that mime from stealing the baguette?" He suggested playfully, pointing to where a sneaky criminal had slipped past Captain Man's razor-sharp senses and swiped the mouldy bread.

The heroes turned around to see the bizarre man creeping away most ridiculously. He was a classic mime, his face painted a ghastly white with exaggerated features. At the same time, he wore a black beret, white gloves, a monochrome striped shirt, braces, and black breeches.

Watching him was funny as he kicked his feet out with every step, the baguette raised high above his head, but despite the cutesy act, a criminal was still a criminal.

"Freeze!" Ray ordered after getting over his initial shock, and the mime immediately stopped...and began shivering?

"Oh, freeze! Like he's cold... That's kinda good," (y/n) giggled as she watched the silly man tremble like he was stuck on an arctic tundra. It even broke a smile on Ray's face, laughing with the kids when the actor hugged the baguette close and chuckled, too.

"All right, take it. You've earned the bread..." Ray sighed--so impressed with his quick wit and improvisation that he didn't have the heart to chase after the criminal. But that wasn't the point, much to his sidekicks' disgust and fury.

"No!"

"That's stealing!"

"He's getting away!" Mika and Miles exclaimed, wildly gesturing to the mime, who prepared to make a swift if overacted, exit. Luckily, Chapa had the brains to guard the door, blocking his path with the deadliest weapon in their arsenal - The Mean Wheel.

And surprisingly, it worked. One flash of Bose's grumpy face and the mime cowered away, holding his hands up in surrender with little fight left to flee.

"I guess it works!" The girl declared happily, expecting an epic brawl, but maybe Bose was onto something. It gave Ray enough time to grab the guy by his collar, yanking him back into the store.

"Well, sometimes, you just--" he grunted, pulling his detainee back with a mighty jerk as he jogged on the spot, "--y'know, get lucky."

"That's a Daft Punk song..." Miles pointed out, but he wasn't surprised when a blank expression passed over the hero's face.

"I know it is. Thank you," he scoffed casually, even though no one was fooled by his bluff.

Ray had to save face, not only for the civilians and so-called heroes watching but for his sweet girl, who shook her head in amusement as she kept her eyes trained on the mime. She didn't trust them - something about how they didn't speak made her nervous.

"Then sing it," Chapa taunted, smirking underneath her poker face. Everyone knew the man couldn't resist a challenge, and it was a battle of wills as he pondered his next move.

"Too expensive..." he answered vaguely before quickly dropping his gaze to the surly mime, clenching his fist around his collar in case he tried to escape.

He didn't trust them either, snapping his fingers for Mika to bring him a chair. The girl gently placed it in the middle of the floor, unaware of his plan.

She was shocked to see how roughly her teacher shoved the poor man onto the seat, nearly pushing him onto the floor as a melancholy pout made his bottom lip wobble. It was even more alarming to watch Miss Danger loom over him, an uncharacteristically aggressive glint in her eye as she studied the mime's pasty face, unnerving him for some weird reason.

She knew they had to question him about why he targeted the national treasures, but did they have to be so...mean?

"Talk!" Ray bellowed, making the actor flinch at his loud tone. Still, he said nothing - just collected himself and returned to sitting prettily.

"I said talk! Tell me where your friends are!"

"He's a mime. They don't talk!" Mika told him exasperatedly, knowing he could shout all day but never get through. (y/n) usually told him stuff like that, but she was weirdly silent for some reason, observing the mime broodingly.

"They also don't have friends," her brother jokingly added, which to most people would be true. Mimes were socially celebrated, perhaps a little nerdy and weird in most circles, but the couple knew better. Oh, they knew things the children would never believe. Things that would scar their innocent minds.

"Oh, he's got friends!"

"Guys, he's a mime. They live in hives, so when you see one, there's always a mime hive nearby," the heroine explained, much to the children's confusion. They looked at her like she was crazy, not missing how antsy Ray was.

"I expect this from Captain Man, but not you, M-D. Are you thinking of bees?" Chapa asked dryly, unable to believe such outlandish, childish nonsense.

"No! We're not making this up!" (y/n) exclaimed indignantly, clinging to her husband's arm as he frantically looked around for this so-called hive. "Mimes work together, they live in hives, and they protect their Mime Queen at all costs! Trust us!"

"I do not trust you..." Miles replied slowly, staring at the couple warily. He couldn't trust them, not when she spouted such nonsense, and he fondled any bit of flesh he could reach. Still, Ray didn't need their faith, nor did he seek their permission, returning to glare at the mime and bark his orders.

"Talk! Tell me where your hive is!"

"He's not gonna talk!" Mika yelled back, wondering when the man would learn, not that he'd listen.

"We'll see about that..." Ray growled before reaching for his belt, fingers fumbling angrily as he searched for his laser remote. In his experience, although unpleasant, a little pain and zapping here and there often loosened a criminal's lips. Even if the children disapproved, he shot a few orange bolts at the mime's shoulder, searing his skin a little - not enough to scar, but just enough to make him yelp.

"Talk! Talk! Talk!" He snapped, zapping the guy three times until the mime clutched at his chest, a mournful expression turning his face sour. He was an excellent actor and didn't break character through the mild torture.

"Okay, this guy's good! He's gotten me twice so far. I say we just let him have the bread, you guys."

"No!"

"Stop!" The children groaned as the hero stopped his interrogation and smiled cheesily. That's what the crook wanted--to lure them into a false sense of security, but they knew better. Plus, the bread wasn't theirs to give away like some two-cent fairground prize.

"Doofus, our job is to protect the bread, not give it to the first person who smiles at you!" His sweet girl said, chastising him, but Ray just whined like a little kid.

"But he wants it! Look, he's hungry!" He said petulantly, grinning as their captive pretended to tuck a handkerchief into his collar, rubbing his tummy like he'd not eaten in a week. The man felt sympathy for him yet failed to realise that the mime could just go to the bakery and buy fresh, non-mouldy bread.

"Well, he can go and whistle for it 'cause he's not getting a single crumb!"

"He's got a little bib going..." Ray sighed, amusedly watching the mime's antics even as his beloved wife scolded him. He was in a world of his own, absentmindedly patting the small of her back as Mika groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Cap..." she called out, but his stare remained blank and vacant.

"CAAAAAPPPPP!" The girl said louder, her flat tone finally reaching him when (y/n) whacked his shoulder and flicked his ear. The man blinked a few times, turning to his wife with a slight pout since he didn't like being on her wrong side, but the annoying noise of Mika talking to him soured his mood.

"WHHHHHAAAAAAT?" He replied in the same monotone drone, flashing the whites of his eyes when they rolled back in disgust. Would they ever stop pestering him?

"Let's try something else," she suggested, gracefully brushing past his rudeness when her friends slapped him again. Giving her a grateful smile, she turned to the mime, studying him closely.

"Like what?"

"What if we just played along? Let's let him do his mime games, and maybe he'll like us and tell us something," The girl grinned hopefully, making her teachers exchange a thoughtful look. At least they were considering it.

"If he won't speak our language, let's try speaking his..." Her brother added pensively, circling the glum-looking mime as he gently placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. He agreed with her; he'd always been the hippie type, and it was much better than lasering the poor guy.

"Oh, no! I sure hope no one throws an imaginary rope around me!" Mika exclaimed in a weird voice, drawing puzzled frowns from her friends.

Her cheery, overly enthusiastic attitude wasn't natural. She sounded like she was on a TV commercial or as if she'd had a brain transplant, especially when she smiled like that - a little too brightly for sanity. It didn't impress Ray or Chapa, the latter of whom folded her arms and glared because it was stupid. There was no way she'd do that.

"What?" They said together flatly, but it worked on the mime. He perked up instantly, turning that frown upside down when he finally understood ShoutOut's meaning. Snapping his head in her direction, they smiled gently at each other, radiating hope, peace, rainbows, and everything else Chapa hated.

"Because then I'd have no choice but to get pulled in." That had the stripey-shirt-wearing man leaping excitedly, as giddy as a schoolboy, to join her little game. As Mika began to jovially run away, he expertly mimicked taking an imaginary rope from his imaginary belt before spinning it around his head like a lasso and tossing it in her direction.

"Oh no! I'm running away!" She announced in that fake voice before she was caught, arms glued to her sides like he'd tied her up. "He's got me!"

"He got you! He totally got you!" Ray exclaimed, happily pointing to the mime's antics as he began to pull the girl toward him in solid and dramatic tugs. Someone changed his tune quickly...

"Do me next! Do me! Rope me!"

"Doofus, watch out!" (y/n) gasped when he pushed past her, Miles, and Chapa, utterly charmed by the mime's innocent act.

It was a world away from how he'd threatened and assaulted him, jumping up and down with his hand above his head. He volunteered as tribute, ignorant to the tired, shaking heads behind him. Was this a good idea?

Ten minutes later, the mime had added to his posse.

He'd managed to rope - literally and figuratively - Mika, Ray, (y/n), and Miles, lashing them together with his invisible lasso. They didn't struggle, playing his little game with bright smiles and good sportsmanship - everyone except Chapa.

The moody girl refused to stoop so low, hovering on the sidelines with crossed arms and a joyless expression as she watched in disdain. She couldn't believe them, watching as they fell for its tricks one by one, huddling together until (y/n) was pressed against her husband's side and her fellow students were tucked under her arms. Utterly ridiculous.

""Uh-oh, we're tied up!" They exclaimed, clamouring loudly about how fun it was, how clever the mime was, and how they were finally getting through with him. All of which Chapa resented.

"Now, you gotta do Volt next!" She scowled at Ray's suggestion, throwing him a killer glare as she leaned against the door.

"Tie up, Volt!"

"Yeah, do Volt!" Their endlessly irritating cries came, and she huffed and puffed at how they encouraged the alabaster-faced criminal. It got worse when he flashed a saccharine grin and began to spin his invisible lasso above his head, intent on roping her into it.

"Nope. Not doing it," Chapa stated firmly, turning her nose up at the thought, even when they begged and pleaded.

"Come on! You're in Paris! Give in to the whimsy!" (y/n) said teasingly, feeling a muscular arm curling around her waist. She wasn't keen either but quickly found the fun in the mime's horseplay since it gave her a great excuse to stand closer than proprietary usually deemed acceptable to her doofus.

"Whimsy! Whimsy! Whimsy!" The Macklin twins chanted as Ray dipped his head to smooch his beloved wife's cheek.

He'd definitely succumbed to the whimsy, holding her tightly as the children caused their raucous. Glancing up from her soft skin and sweet-smelling hair, the man smiled when he saw Chapa budge an inch, slowly - very slowly - edging toward her friends in little jumps as she fought off a grin.

"She's moving! She's playing along!" He exclaimed, laughing when the girl finally gave in and showed that beautifully rare smile, side-stepping closer to them with every yank of the pretend rope. By the end of it, spurred on by the chant, she was entirely into it, leaping toward the group like no one was watching - even Chapa had a little child inside her who wanted to play.

"Man, I told you this guy was good!" Ray noted as she wiggled close to him, beaming at her teacher due to her good mood. It was a little disconcerting, but they went along with it, happily huddling together as the mime crept away. He had them right where he wanted them...

"That's it, case closed. He's gettin' the bread."

"He's not gonna get the bread, doofus," (y/n) giggled as she rested her cheek against his chest, so entranced with his handsomeness and the thumb stroking her hipbone that she didn't notice anything behind her.

It was just the chattering children, her, and her husband, who slowly reached down to kiss her gently - the best distraction.

"Ew, do you guys have to do that when you're so close to us?" Chapa grimaced, looking up from her excited conversation to see them locking lips. She could even practically feel the pleasured rumbling coming from the hero's chest and gagged when (y/n/n) cupped his cheeks happily - vomit-worthy.

"I think it's the romantic atmosphere. Do you see how he clung to her this morning when they left the--"

"Hold up!" Miles gasped, interrupting his sister's idealistic and romantic rambling, when he noticed something weird. While they'd been talking, kissing, and God knows what else, the mime had disappeared to rummage through their bag of useless weapons; only some of them weren't so useless.

"What's happening?"

"Uh, is this still part of his act?" (y/n) gulped nervously, feeling rather stupid as she separated from her lover to see how the mime had literally tied them up. Even though he'd used Bose's bizarre slinky, he'd wound it around their bodies tightly, forcing them together until he had a nice little bundle of superheroes under his control, stuck and helpless in the multicoloured tangle.

"Yeah, let him do it, sweet girl! Don't worry!" Ray reassured her, returning to focus his lips on her jawline since he wasn't worried. He could protect her immediately, although the mime was utterly harmless in his mind.

"I thought the whole thing with mimes is that they only pretend to do real things," Chapa noted, her happiness gone and replaced with her signature moodiness. But this time, it was justified, seething at the guy as he pulled the slinky tight, squeezing her abdomen uncomfortably. She knew this was a bad idea, but nooooo...

"No, the thing about mimes is they make invisible honey," Ray explained, not that it helped their nerves.

"Again, bees." Mika sighed, wondering how his imagination worked, but then, an obnoxious laugh broke her from her panicked thoughts. A very irritating, French-flavoured laugh from the man across the room.

"What are you laughing at, French fry?" (y/n) sneered as she turned to Monsieur Man, thoroughly irritated to learn that he'd witnessed their whole failure.

He stood in the doorway to the other side of the cafe, nursing yet another coffee as he watched bemusedly, highly entertained by how his American cousin floundered so spectacularly. But he didn't react to her sore-loser sourness, flashing her that charming smile again like he did with all the ladies and nodded toward the entrance.

With a small amount of strained effort, the group shuffled around to see what he was looking at, feeling faint when they faced a band of more merry mimes.

Ray gasped loudly when he countered three more pasty-faced men, one clutching Napoleon's pants as the other two flanked a lady mime.

She wasn't just any old weirdo, though, staring at them down her nose with pursed lips. There was something different about her than the others, not just the small accents of red in her outfit; above her white face and stencilled eyebrows, a pretty little crown sat nestled on her pinned-up hair, a symbol of authority in the mime world.

"It's more mimes!" Miles cried, suddenly feeling like a sitting duck as he accidentally elbowed Mika in the ribs when he jerked in surprise.

"They've come from their hive!" Ray growled, glad he'd taken his chance to wrap an arm around his sweet girl, protectively holding her against his chest. She turned in his arms to hold onto the kids, pulling Miles and Mika closer as she glared at the head mime, knowing she was as vicious as they came.

"Is that...a Mime Queen?" Mika gulped, leaning back into the woman for comfort as the Queen pretended to act something out, holding a blue plate with a slice of toast.

"And is she squirting invisible honey on a piece of toast?"

"Of course she is!" Captain Man exclaimed angrily, silently furious with himself for being duped so quickly when he knew their tricks so well. "I told you I'm right about everything!"

"Stop gloating, doof! They're...laughing at us..." (y/n) breathed out, her mouth dropping open when she indignantly watched all four mimes bent over, laughing their lungs out. They pointed and giggled, chuckled, chortled, and barked like a pack of hyenas, much to their anger.

But no matter how much the team struggled, growled, or begged, they couldn't get free. The slinky was surprisingly sturdy, so knotted and jumbled that the links couldn't be undone, even if Chapa bit it, if Ray puffed out his chest, if (y/n) yanked it, or if the twins tried to untie it. Watching them struggle, muttering curses and harsh words as they knocked against each other, was hilarious, and the mimes retreated to the corner to plot revenge.

With their enemies rendered useless, they turned to the Mime Queen for orders, hissing and giggling as they imagined all the fun of stealing the national treasures before their eyes.

"We gotta stop those mimes!" Chapa exclaimed as the others tugged her one way and tossed her another. And to make matters even better, Monsieur Man sat on the sidelines, chuckling at every slip-up they made.

"I'm trying. I'm just stuck!" Miles replied curtly, squirming against his friends and teachers to try and loosen their bonds, but it was no good. Bose was really ahead of the curve with that goddamn slinky.

"I can't believe this stupid thing actually works..." Ray mumbled to himself, furious that he had his sweet girl pressed against him, gyrating, and he couldn't do a damn thing. Not to mention that his young protégés were at risk like fish in a barrel, and to top it all off, that smug idiot was loving every second.

"...and stop laughing!"

"Stop being funny!" Monsieur Man shrugged, his shoulders shaking mirthfully, much to the other hero's fury.

It was too much for poor ShoutOut, who felt the pressure of every more than most - the mimes, that asshole, their infuriating bonds, the urge to protect the treasure, the reputation of her whole country on their shoulders. Succumbing to the stress, she released an almighty scream from deep within her diaphragm, reverberating so powerfully that it blew the door shut and knocked the mime squad over.

"It worked!" Mika gasped softly, shocked that she'd managed to activate her super-scream when it was typically so elusive.

"About time..." Ray muttered quietly, earning himself a sharp jab to his elbows from his wife.

The kids were slowly but surely getting better at their powers, which Miles proved when he wormed an arm free and managed to thrust it in the arm. He vanished from the huddle, and with his disappearance, the slinky loosened enough to drop to their feet. Now, the tables had turned.

"Hey! Nice job, AWOL!" Miss Danger exclaimed gleefully when she took her first unencumbered breath for the first time in fifteen minutes. The group immediately jumped apart, scared to be roped together again, even if the Mime Queen and her minions were still winded on the floor.

"Where'd he go?" Chapa asked, scouring the room for her teleporting friend, but he was nowhere to be seen. He could've gone anywhere in the world knowing the unreliability of his superpower. Still, there was no time for a debate.

The Mime Queen recovered from the minor attack relatively quickly, and her subjects followed when she got to her feet. She put up her fisticuffs, ready to battle the heroes to her last breath, glaring at them as they shook off the shock of Miles' teleporting.

"Who cares?! It's queen-punchin' time!" Ray barked, dancing on his toes like a boxer as he readied himself for a fight - and boy, he wanted to sink his teeth into it. (y/n) copied his movements, drawing her fists close to her face as the kids did the same, following his lead.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Ray bellowed his battle cry, brawny arm raised high above his head as he charged, desperate to pound the Queen into the ground. She met his attack with equal tenacity, leaping with the grace of a ballerina before she brought her fist down on his cheek.

The hero tumbled to the ground like a sack of potatoes, dazed by the brutal blow as the other mimes circled his sidekicks. They were efficient, keeping (y/n), Mika, and Chapa away from their boss as the Mime Queen beat him while he was down - not very sporting of her. She kicked and clawed at him, trying to squish his skull with the pointed heel of her boot, and it was more than Ray's job's worth to swiftly roll out of the way before he was jelly on the floorboards.

"Captain Man!" (y/n) called out worriedly, dodging the mime who tried to drag her around by her hair as she watched her beloved doofus rolling around to preserve his life. The woman was vicious, snarling with each foot stamp, but she had to trust him to care for himself.

Mika and Chapa relied on her expertise to keep the mimes at bay as they battled to protect the treasure. The former wrestled with one to retrieve Napoleon's pants while the latter worked with her teacher to throw another against the wall. Monsieur Man nearly spilt his espresso as the mime bashed against it with a groan.

Still, he was amused anyway, thinking Miss Danger looked very pretty in her uniform. He sighed contently as she held the mime by the throat, unabashedly slamming his head against the bricks as Chapa dusted her hands off.

Across the room, Ray had escaped the Mime Queen's clutches, taking his chance to swipe her feet out from under her. Luckily for his French cousin, he didn't see how his soft eyes followed her, wondering what it would be like to have a pretty assistant like her to fight by his side. And what a sight she made, tossing another mime into Chapa's hold, only to roughly throw him to the ground.

"Waaaaaah!" Mika shouted as she tried to activate her scream on her opponent as he whimpered on the floor, still refusing to release the pants. "Okay, this worked a few minutes ago!"

"Miss Danger, get over here and help me with the queen!" Ray yelled to his wife, making her anxiously dart from him to the children and the remaining artefacts on the counter. She'd fight by his side in a heartbeat, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

"What the--?"

"We have to secure the treasures!" ShoutOut implored, knowing they'd merely stupefied the miming minions. They'd only need a minute to recover and swipe the treasures again - Ray would surely be okay on his own.

"Who cares about the treasures? Give me my wife!" The man argued, ducking and weaving against the evil woman before him. "We gotta take out this queen before she lays any more eggs!"

"Eggs?!" Chapa gasped, having never heard anything so weird and grotesque.

She didn't want to know how that was possible, but she didn't have time to question it, watching when Ray tried to punch the Queen several times. He gave her a succession of swift, straight lefts and rights. Still, she miraculously evaded them, floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee.

"What?" He mumbled when she mimed, moving something out of the way, distracting him for a split second. It was long enough for her to whack him across the face, much to Monsieur Man's amusement, as he tumbled to the floor.

"Oh, shut up, you smug ass!" (y/n) growled at him before rushing over to her husband, unnecessarily worried, but she couldn't help it. "Doofus, are you all right?!"

"I'm fine, darlin'..." The hero swiftly reassured her with an enamoured smile, wiping his lip to chase away the fleeting pain before lightly gathering her in his arms. There was no time for more comfort, but it was enough to quell her worries until he picked up a smooth, pale object from behind the counter. Well, that was worrying, and he turned to Chapa with a stern frown.

"Eggs that hatch into mime larvae! Keep up!" He growled, his tone varying wildly from how he gently addressed his sweet girl as he brandished the disturbing egg at the girl.

The Mime Queen didn't take too kindly to her enemy holding one of her...children and angrily yanked it from his dirty mitts before kicking him in the guts. The brutal blow knocked the wind out of Ray, who grunted and panted as (y/n) turned a disgusted and shocked scowl at her. She didn't take too kindly to see her husband hurt.

"Hey!" She shouted, pointing an angry finger at the nonchalant Queen as Ray hunched over the counter. "No one kicks my doofus!"

In a daring, deadly charge, the heroine took everyone by surprise and tackled the Queen, pulling her to the ground for what could only be called a bitch fight. Straddling the woman's torso as she blinked up at the ceiling, she slapped her silly across the face, hoping to rearrange her pointed features or, at the very least, make it sting.

After pummelling her cheeks a little, she scrambled to her feet, dragging the Queen with her as the children watched with wide eyes and mouths. God...remind them never to threaten her husband. She was lethal, taking the lady mime by her collar and launching her over the counter without mercy - it was less than she deserved.

With the Mime Queen down, the mimes resumed their fight, brawling with the children as Ray straightened and rushed over to his breathless girl.

She couldn't be hotter in his eyes, worthy of a thousand kisses, not that the girls cared if they shared them now. Chapa was busy with her mime, trying to zap him with some electricity to retrieve the Daft Punk helmet. Still, he was too slippery, slapping her hand away at the last minute.

The scarlet lightning missed him and flew to Mika instead. Goddamn, it burned her skin like hellfire, pulling one of her ear-splitting screams from her throat, which luckily took down the mime. Unfortunately, as he tumbled, he crushed the precious helm, shattering it into a million billion shards.

It was neither Daft nor Punk, just fragments of something formerly great, making the kids cringe as the treasures fell through their fingers.

"Sorry!" ShoutOut exclaimed woefully as she stared at the ruined helmet, feeling endlessly guilty since the scream was unintentional - indeed an accident, but tell that to the people of France.

"It's okay..." her friend said breathlessly, more thankful for the rescue than the loss of the treasure.

Still, as she took a breather, Ray and (y/n) were plunged into the fray again as the Queen snuck up behind them, enacting her revenge by curling an arm around (y/n)'s throat. She had a little foresight, sensing the encroaching danger soon enough to jam a hand between them, but it was a barbaric attack.

"Can't...breathe..." she gasped, flailing against the Queen and the iron grip threatening to crush her windpipe. Ray was ready to kick the woman's head in, seeing red when his wife's eyes narrowed, fighting to free herself, but Chapa moved quicker.

Thinking on her feet, she grabbed the first weapon she saw - the beloved mouldy baguette that Marie loved so much. She didn't hesitate as she seized the slightly squishy yet stale French stick. She only saw the desperate need to free her friend as she stormed forward, brandishing the disgusting thing.

"All right, lady. Ba-guette wrecked!" She exclaimed, particularly proud of her sick quip as she cracked the bread over the Queen's shoulder, making her release the heroine and collapse.

Breathless, (y/n) fell against Ray's chest, unbothered by the mouldy crumbs all over her uniform since she was safe and unharmed, with only a few bruises for her super-regeneration to heal. Even Ray was stunned, instantly holding his sweet girl, but damn...

"Ba-guette wrecked?" He echoed incredulously, but there was a grateful glint in his eyes as the girl nodded sheepishly. "Okay, Chapa..."

"Thanks, kid," (y/n) said graciously, rubbing at her sore throat as her doofus smiled proudly and tittered over her health. She was fine, but the same couldn't be said for Mika, who'd been left to face the mime minions while they battled the Queen.

"Uh, little help?" She called out awkwardly, struggling with one of the henchmen as he took inspiration from his lady and encircled her in a deadly embrace.

Still, he was no queen, merely holding onto the girl for dear life as was his duty, so it didn't take much for her friends to free her. Glancing at one another, the couple and Chapa turned to the mime with bared teeth, threateningly stepping forward and screaming like they were about to tear him limb from limb.

It was enough to scare him shitless, and he released Mika without hesitation, making a break for it like only a mime could.

"Thanks..."

"No problem." The girls smiled at each other as (y/n) squeezed Ray's hand, glad to have a moment to breathe now that the mimes were scattered. They'd done pretty well to say they'd lost a third of the team, but the peace didn't last, not when Miles randomly teleported back into the room.

He'd been across the ocean and back, bursting here, there, and everywhere before finally returning to his friends, eager and ready to fight. Unfortunately, he was a tad tardy, looking around for any enemies while his friends clutched at their heaving chests - did he have to sneak up on them like that?

"Aw, man. I missed my chance to punch a mime?" The boy whined after squealing, visibly deflated, when he realised that every mime was either unconscious or gone.

Still, he wasn't disappointed for long, not when a loud, obnoxious, high-pitched alarm balled through the cafe, bathing its walls and residents in red light. The heroes looked around suspiciously, wondering if it was another mimey trick or something else to worry about. Yet, Monsieur Man leapt to his feet in delight, bounding over to them with all the energy and friendliness of a Golden Retriever.

"The strike! She is over!" He announced joyfully, much to their confusion. It had barely been going on for a day - how could it be over already when they'd only just arrived?

"What?"

"Yes, the France has purchased me a pretty pink motorcycle," the smarmy hero explained, casually flicking through his social media before beaming at his stunned American counterparts. "Now, beep, beep, beep! Out of my way! I am Monsieur Man! Ha-ha!"

"God, I hate him..." (y/n) sighed as she watched the Parisian disappear through the entrance, skipping like a little girl at the thought of riding through the city on his bike, golden locks billowing in the wind. Well, as long as his garlicky smell was as far away from her as possible, she didn't care, tucking herself into Ray's side, smiling at his grumpy face.

Some use he was; he could've at least stayed to help them round up the mimes before running off to play with his new toy, but no matter. The team were used to getting their hands dirty and doing all the work, so they gathered the mimes and their Queen up in no time.

Bose's slinky - who Miles reported was safely at the Man's Nest like they feared - helped bind them together in a tit-for-tat style. They huddled in the middle of the room, snapping and gnashing their teeth like wild animals as Chapa helped (y/n) finish the final knot, ready for the cops to collect them.

They thought it was a job well done, clapping each other on the back and taking a minute for themselves when Marie burst into Hip Hop Paris. She looked like she'd run halfway across the city, stray hairs flying away from her sweaty face as she fixed her gaze on them. Miss Danger would bet ten dollars she knew what she was about to say...

"Captain Man! Mademoiselle Danger! The strike! She is--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. She's over. We heard." Ten dollars to her. She was ready to go home, tiredly tucking herself into Ray's side as he wrapped an arm around her waist. France was a little too hectic for them--and a little too weird.

"Did you protect our French national treasures?" Marie asked in concern, only to pale when the couple and their sidekicks winced guiltily. They could barely look her in the eye, let alone explain that they'd either been crushed or smashed.

"Well..."

"Uhhh..."

"Not even a little," Chapa replied in her signature deadpan, barely using a fraction of the remorse or tentativeness as her friends. She stood with her arms folded, not flinching when Marie's face fell because what was done was done. They'd defeated some mimes; that was something.

"Hey, the pants made it," Miles exclaimed when the yellowish garments caught his eye, having been discarded by one of their opponents during the fight. They looked a little dusty, but otherwise, they were perfectly unscathed, and he bent down to pick them up for the concerned hostess.

"Oh, wait, AWOL--" (y/n) started, reaching out to try and explain that old clothing tended to be delicate and easy to rip, but she was too late. The boy didn't reach for the board behind the pants; instead, he grabbed the leg, accidentally tearing the stitching when he pulled it too hard - and Napoleon's trousers were ruined forever.

"Never mind..." she muttered timidly, cringing when Miles stood up with the material still clenched in his fist.

"My bad. That's on me." At least he was noble enough to admit his mistake, not that it comforted the woman.

"What are we going to do?" She cried, tears gathering in her eyes, which never moved from where the pants formally laid, unharmed and relatively pristine. How was she supposed to tell the nation that the ones they'd hired to protect them were no better than the ruffians who wanted to steal them?

"Oh, well. We...are gonna go home," Ray told her awkwardly, looking at his pretty girl, who eagerly nodded despite her morality saying otherwise. She didn't want to stick around for the angry mob to come with their pitchforks and torches, and Ray much preferred his own bed for many reasons, eyeing the door as Marie glared.

"You cannot just leave!" She exclaimed haughtily, not that the hero gave a damn - he didn't answer to anyone...well, no one but his wife. "You came here, made a lot of dust-up, and destroyed all of our stuff!"

"Well, y'know..." (y/n) said awkwardly, not knowing how to explain it other than... "America."

"Nice one, sweet girl..." Ray chuckled in her ear as Marie tossed her arms in the air and marched off, undoubtedly to clean up the mess they'd made.

Still, she left their exit clear, and the group happily tiptoed toward the door now that they'd escaped a major telling-off.

"Can we go home, please?" She asked sweetly, smiling up at her doofus as he squeezed her hand. How could he refuse a request like that? He felt utterly exhausted after such a dramatic and lengthy trip, and nothing sounded like a better remedy than curling up with her in their bedroom to watch a cosy rom-com--one of her favourites, preferably.

So, leading her by the hand with the children following like chatting ducklings, he guided the team toward the door...only to be halted again. Ray had to grit his teeth to stop swearing, especially when he recognised the smooth, shiny head that ambled through the door like nothing was wrong.

Schwoz. He'd soon made himself scarce, the bald little weirdo, fleeing when they could've used another extra body during the battle, even if it were merely a meat shield. But something was off, namely the gorgeous woman with her arm wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't...did he?

"You guys! I met the love of my life!" He announced with one of the brightest smiles (y/n) had ever seen, and despite her tiredness, the romantic sight lightened her heart.

She could see why Schowz had fallen for the lady; she was tall, cheery, and beautiful, with her hair falling around her face in soft curls, pretty pink makeup, a flowery dress, a matching scarf, and an elegant handbag. She was everything and more for the handyman, who beamed with such a delicate creature on his arm, even if she was almost double his height.

"Aw..." she murmured, melting when the lovebirds smiled at each other, yet Ray wasn't so touched.

"We're leaving," he ordered curtly before seizing (y/n)'s hand and dragging her through the door. She could barely steal another glance at the couple, feeling like she was losing her real-life rom-com before she could sink her teeth into it. Talk about a killjoy.

"Doofus!" She exclaimed, digging her heels into the ground as he marched into the street, barely looking back at her.

"But I just found true love!" Schwoz argued, refusing to give up his beloved's hand when he'd dreamed of this moment all his life. It wasn't fair; everyone else, even Ray, with all his flaws and failings, found their soulmate, so why couldn't he? It was heartbreaking, especially when a rough hand grabbed his shoulder.

"I said, we're leaving!" The man hauled him through the door, and the love of Schwoz's life slipped through his fingers like sand. They stared at each other mournfully as the children hurried past, not wanting to be entangled in something so complex.

Even the captured mimes looked gloomy, which (y/n) didn't miss as she tripped over her feet on the way out. One look at Schwoz's wobbly bottom lips and teary eyes and her feet glued to the pavement, stopping abruptly in the street, much to the frustration of several baffled Parisians.

And if she stopped, the others stopped too, refusing to leave Miss Danger behind, even though they could weirdly ignore the genius' silent hiccups and sobs.

"Doofus, what are you doing?" She asked coldly, although when Ray whipped around, he saw more confusion in her face than disgust.

"You said you wanted to go home..." he replied simply, shrugging as if nothing was wrong despite her folded arms and Schwoz's trembling form. "So, we're going home."

"And what about everything back there?"

"What are you talking about?" He frowned, much to his wife's apparent disgusted shock. She stepped away from him as the kids looked at the couple with blank stares, wondering what to do since they were having a bit of a domestic.

They deemed it best to step to the side and start their own conversation; experience told them that fights and arguments were vanishingly rare and often ended before they barely started. They discussed everything from the weather to the dichotomy of good and evil - anything to give them space.

"Okay, don't be doofus all your life," (y/n) groaned, giving him a mildly bemused but mostly exasperated look. Even he wasn't that dense, merely playing coy because he knew she was irritated. "I'm talking about Schwoz and that French woman. Y'know, the love of his life."

"So?" Ray asked, tentatively placing his hands on her hips. He was gently surprised to realise that she wasn't totally pushing him away.

She sighed and returned the touch, reaching up to fiddle with the zip on his tunic, knowing that he could be unnecessarily, stupidly, ridiculously dense sometimes. But she knew deep down that he wasn't cruel, just...silly. Such a silly doofus.

"So, he should go be with her. You can't just rip them apart!" The heroine exclaimed, and Schwoz nodded weakly, pining for his sweetheart. He wanted to go and take her in his arms, just as Ray did with his sweet girl, but he wouldn't move with permission, too fearful of what the hero would do.

"Eh, he'll get over it..." the man replied casually before taking her soft hand. He wanted to take her home more than anything, eager to board the first plane and forget everything about this irritating trip, but (y/n) would budge, standing still with a face like thunder.

"Raymond..." she said firmly, taking his face in her hands so he could look into her eyes. "What if we lost our chance like this?"

"What...?" Ray gasped, heart fluttering at the implication, even if vague.

He didn't question anything to do with her, too thankful that he'd landed the girl of his dreams to want to know what his life would be like if he one day woke up to find out everything was a dream. The thought felt like a knife through his heart, turning the man with unwavering nerves into a shuddering mess.

"What would you have done if, all those years ago, someone took me away from you and said to get over it?" (y/n) proposed softly as the same emotions ran through her mind.

It was unimaginable; they were so solid and dependable, the couple everyone could rely on to always be together because they were soulmates. They were the universe's plan, star-crossed, and whatever else, snuggling closer when they wondered...what if they never fell in love?

"I'd rip their head off," Ray said quietly, and (y/n) didn't argue when he wrapped his strong arms around her as if he was terrified she'd disappear.

They were silent for a minute, hearing nothing but Schwoz's deep breaths and the children's debate over smooth orange juice or the one with bits in it. He kissed her head gently, so thankful he could say his ring was on her finger. "I'd go through hell for you, darlin."

"And I'd do the same for you..." she promised, pecking his cheek before pulling back to look at him with a soft smile, sighing.

"So, don't you think Schwoz deserves the same?"

"But sweet girl...it's Schwoz!" The hero exclaimed, glancing at the sorrowful genius, who looked worse for wear. Even Ray could see how torn up he was, and he felt a little bad, but come on... It wasn't like any of his relationships ever succeeded--like Ray could talk about his past flings.

"But doofus...nothing! Send him back there, or I'm not sitting next to you on the plane!" It was an empty threat; (y/n) always had to sit next to her doofus, needing to hold his hand on take-off so she'd never make him bunk with one of the kids.

Still, it inspired a slight panic in the hero, who gasped in horror and held her tighter at the thought of sitting beside...Chapa.

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I would! Come on, doofus...do it for me. And for Schwoz. And for the Frenchy lady," she argued, soothingly rubbing his chest while fluttering her eyelashes - tempting and convincing him in only a way she could.

Ray sighed, weighing up every option. He hated the idea of losing Schwoz, knowing more than anyone that when a man fell in love, he'd forsake his every faculty and responsibility to pledge his devotion to her instead. He'd undoubtedly move out and start a new life, and he'd lose one of his oldest friends - that's why he was cruel...to be kind.

"...Fine. But just because I love you." After a few minutes, he heaved a heavy sigh, meeting Schwoz's gaze, who hoped with all hopes to have the green light. One nod toward the café, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree, shouting a million thanks before sprinting toward the love of his life and all the possibilities she could hold.

"I'll take it!" (y/n) squealed, looping her arms around his neck as she held him close, her beaming grin matching Schwoz's and the kids as they silently watched how he ran like the wind. It was weirdly kind for the man, who hated to see him go, but her happiness was worth it.

It would be like that one day; everyone would move on until it would just be them left - just him and his sweet girl. Henry left, and Charlotte, Piper, and Jasper left, too. Danger Force wouldn't last forever, either, and Schwoz wouldn't work for him indefinitely, not when, hopefully, they retired and had kids.

Not everything lasts forever, and Ray was gradually getting used to that fact, reassured that the love of his life was eternal. A love that would last a lifetime.

"Y'know, there's a heart of gold underneath that grumpiness."

4 notes · View notes

nashibirne · 9 months

Note

Chicken Fried (Captain Syverson x Reader)

Summary: Sy is on his last deployment and a song unexpectedly makes him miss home even more than usual. His wife prepares for a welcome home that he'll never forget.

Why it deserves more love: Homesick teddy bear Sy is the most loveable. I'm pretty proud of the last line.

I absolutely loved this story @ysmmsy 💜

This will be stuck in my head all day now 😆

What is this all about? Click here!

#henry cavill #ask nashi #nashi's fic recs

5 notes · View notes

reveluving · 2 years

Text

the lady in the middle

rick flag x milf!reader x captain syverson (+ fic recs)

warnings: smut (minors DNI!); threesome(?), petnames, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral sex (f receiving + slight m receiving), sex toy (butt plug), squirting, praise & domestic kink (+ fluff)

a/n: a reupload 'cause tumblr on that bs. stay safe babes!

» j.k m.list , or check out my full m.list!

rick’s finally escapes belle reve’s clutches whereas sy and his crew had to transfer somewhere a little further. coincidentally, they moved to the same neighbourhood, in the same row, minus sy's comrades that's living a few houses further. only their respective homes are separated by another one.

of course, the neighbours heard of the new wave of veterans simultaneously moving in. who wouldn’t notice, especially the main two; tall, broad and handsome, as the shameless women would describe rick and sy. others, too, but truth be told, they’re awfully explicit. think of the children, linda!

they’ve met the women in the neighbourhood — not because they wanted too, it’s hard not too, though. they’d so happen to pass by, whether it’s in front of their homes, in the park for a jog or even the grocery store. sy’s no-nonsense personality has caused quite the stir and yet, that only seemed to reel them in. rick is a little more respectful but nonetheless firm when they’d invade his personal bubble.

that is, until they meet the ‘lady in the middle’, a.k.a. the neighbour living in between them.

well, not exactly meet per se. not yet. rick was chatting with the elderly couple, mr and mrs williams, living next his home. at first, he listened to their, or specifically, mrs william's endless stories out of respect, but then she starts to talk about you, she sounded like she was talking about her own child.

"oh, (y/n)'s an angel, dear! helps me with my groceries all the time. her kids are absolute sweethearts too!" ah, a mother, "never understood how no one's put a ring on her finger yet,"

oh?

"don't even seem like there's a man in her life since coming here," mr willaims remarked — quite the blunt man but he loves his wife like no other. a fact that rick finds quite endearing, honestly, "billy and tommy's always been her priority,"

ah, a single mother.

"you should meet her some time!" mrs williams grinned, "surely you'll too get along,"

"I'll be sure to say hello, ma'am," rick wasn't exactly lying. he replied the way he did not to only because he doesn't have the heart to say no to the welcoming elderly but in all honesty, he's not sure what to expect. at most, he thinks you're another suburban mom, just not the same as the one that's been shamelessly flirting with him. sometimes in front of their own husbands.

he definitely didn't expect that the single mother mrs williams’ been talking highly about is truly the definition of her words; an absolute sweetheart. plus, easy on the eyes too.

it happened when he visited the mini mart for some eggs. he took notice of the multiple bags of groceries as mrs williams’ paid at the counter. rick was ready to help her out when two boys, no more than seventeen years of age, came into view and helped with her stuff. at first, he thought they were her nephews until she spoke up in utter joy.

"your boys are truly are an angelic duo," she turned to the young lady next to her and from then on did he finally realized that this was more than a random customer.

no, this was the infamous ms (l/n) and holy shit.

you're a babe. supple (s/c) skin, gorgeous (h/c) hair and a radiant smile that practically lit up the room. judging from your clothes, seems like you just came back from the gym.

who knows how long he stood there, contemplating whether to greet the group or hide behind the nearest shelf.

but oh good ol' mrs williams — always one step ahead it seems.

"there he is!" she called him over and he knows it's too late to cover his face in his puffer jacket. so, with the egg carton in one hand, he waved with the other before approaching the one person he honestly doesn't mind meeting, "rick, this is (y/n), the one I've been telling you about! and these are her boys, billy and tommy,"

the boys looked nothing like you and it's obvious why. if mrs williams didn't tell him beforehand, he would've thought you were their adult sister.

"ms (l/n)," he greeted with a polite smile, only to wince when mrs williams tapped his leg with her cane.

"now, now, you two are still young! no formalities," both of you blinked at the her request. you sheepishly smiled, hoping he'd be okay with you addressing him by his first name.

"are you okay with me calling you rick?"

oh, fuck yeah.

"you're more than welcome to if you're okay with me calling you (y/n)," he joked lightly, prompting a chuckle out of you as mrs williams watched you in glee. rick introduced himself to the boys and vice versa and unsurprisingly, they have better manners than his 'former teammates' as a whole.

along the way, he learned that you're working as a part-time instructor in the local gymnasium, specifically flying yoga. while the aerial workout is nothing new to him since as it used to be harley's go-to, he's always felt indifferent about it. cool, yes, but nothing more.

now that he knows you're doing it, his imagination's going just a little wild.

at the end of the whole meeting, everyone went their own way, despite living closely to each other, continuing with their usual routine.

well, minus rick who hasn't been able to get the image of you naked and tangled up in those silks but you get the idea.

how you met sy, on the other hand, was a little different and mrs williams didn't have to do anything with it.

no, he was visiting the gymnasium with his crew. the upside of the local gym is that it's huge—so much so that it's complete with a pilates and flying yoga studio, but they didn't think much of it.

not until they passed by the studio, at least.

"this is the flying yoga studio. opens on wednesday's and thursday's. my sister's personal favourite because of the instructor," the employee opened the door ajar before peaking in, "speaking of, there she is right now,"

at first, they thought it was his sister, considering that he didn't specify who 'she' was, until he greeted the person in the room.

"hey (y/n)!" !

"hey keith!" !!!

suddenly, they're awfully curious to see how this '(y/n)' really looks like.

"finally considering the class with your sister?" they hear you teased.

"you wish. just showing some new members around. mind if i bring them in for a bit,"

"not at all!" they expected you to greet them behind the door when keith swung the door open. the last thing they anticipated was to see you mid-air, gracefully intertwined in the hammock. you turned your head to the new faces and waved enthusiastically.

"hi there! sorry i can't come down right now, my course's starting in a few hours, but it's really nice to meet you guys!" simultaneously, you untangled the fabric off of one leg, leaving the other straight up.

sy was doing a better job at hiding the throbbing mess happening in his lower region but he probably can't say the same for his crew. somehow, he feels a new kind of emotion. or at least, an emotion he hasn't felt until he moved into reve road. this insatiable hunger; something he hasn't felt for any women he's been with.

shit. and this is the same feeling he had when he first saw you with billy and tommy just days ago. you weren't doing anything, just greeting the two in excitement by the door when they came home from school.

it's the first time he's ever felt compelled to greet someone.

"syverson, right?" he snapped out of his stupor at the sound of his name and looked up at you. he curtly nodded, "it's nice to see you again. my sons aren't causing any trouble in your yard again, are they?"

he chuckled lowly, ignoring the hitched breaths coming from the rest because one; you have sons?!

and two; syverson's more or less smiling! while it's not their first time seeing the uptight man express a positive mood, let alone with a woman but in all honesty? they could recognize a forced emotion when they see one, and this is not one of them.

"not at all, ma'am. they're honestly more respectful than these boys right here," whatever possessed the brooding captain into loosening up right in front of his comrades was uncertain, "please, do what you must. we'll be on our way,"

in reality, he didn't want to leave, and he knows damn well his comrades don't wish to either.

but he'd be damn if he lets them stay any longer than he'd like.

"fuck, we got a milf in the area,"

"isn't she the girl that the other moms' been gossiping about? shit, i see why,"

"you think her flexibility applies to when she's in bed?"

sy narrows his eyes at the poor saps drooling over the one person he's finally shown interest in.

but fuck, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about you in the most sinful positions, with or without the hammock. he felt pathetic having to work on his own release that same night rather than a one-night stand as per usual. but how could he, when he's busy thinking about how your pretty pussy would feel milking his cock?

hey, he's an asshole to some degree but he has a heart. somewhere.

so, you've got two sexy military men pining for you. the question is; who do you choose?

at first, i planned on making separate smuts.

but, if you're like me and say "damn, that's too much work, and they're both hot as fuck", then ma'am, do I have a treat for you!

why not both?

yes. both!

it's friday night — billy and tommy are at a friend's house for the weekend, excited to play that new call of duty game they've been telling you about so now you're on your own. so, what better way to spend the night than to visit your old favourite bar? you haven't been there for a while so now's a good time, right?

you recognized almost everyone in the room; some of the girls from your course, billy and tommy's seniors, hell, even the condescending group of moms without their husbands.

good. the last thing you wanted was a bunch of middle aged-men drunkenly breathing down your neck without boundaries.

the bartender, 'boss', as many called him, greeted you enthusiastically, dramatisizing your lack of presence but nonetheless glad you didn't forget him nor the bar for another that 'met your city-girl taste'. you ordered your usual and chatted up with Boss until a group began to make a ruckus in a corner. he excused himself with a huff, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

specifically, your two new neighbours.

it's a coincidence that they both had anything to do with the military, let alone moving in with you in the middle. while you weren't around in the first few days of their arrival, words tend to spread very quickly. the first time happened when mrs williams called to notify you about your new neighbours. then, keith was telling you how you had nearly ten new students in one day after rick, along with sy and his team days later, came to the gym for a membership.

by the sounds of it, they sounded like they were the real deal and the same day you came home, you were nervous.

as conceitedly quoted by keith's sister after a session of pilates one thursday; "that angry mom club would do anything to be in your shoes."

hell, if only, but you doubt one of them would them would be interested in you, let alone both.

oh, hunny, you really spoke too soon.

you turned in your seat and settled for people watching and didn't pay any mind for the women cackling at you for coming here alone. but that didn't last long.

"(y/n)!" you jumped a little at the sight of rick entering, even more so when he called your name as soon as he saw you. he loved your closed-eye smile — he felt like he mattered to someone, even for a little.

"hey rick!" you tried your best at hiding your nerves when he made a beeline for you. it didn't help that the shirt he was wearing was practically hugging his torso, showing off every nook and cranny of his muscles.

(ma'am, you're missing the look of disbelief in those nosy moms' faces!)

"didn't expect to see you here, darlin'," you learned that rick is no stranger to petnames (for you and you only), but this is his first time using 'darlin' and quite frankly? it felt natural using it.

"tommy and billy's friends are having a sleepover so they left their dearest mother alone to spend the weekend," you pouted cutely, unaware of the impact it has on rick. he quickly distracted himself by calling boss over once he was done diffusing the mayhem at one of the tables.

thinking back, you don't remember the last time spending the weekend on your own. usually, at least one of the boys were with you.

but, while you missed your boys already, this is also a great opportunity.

what, you didn't think you could go on with you day without touching yourself after meeting the military gentlemen, did you? it's a miracle that you didn't before but a single mother's schedule works wonders when it comes to distractions.

"alone, huh? don't have any plans with friends or...?" he drawled before taking a sip of his drink, hissing at the profound aftertaste.

"i would but after all that extra sessions in the gym? i'd rather stay home," just the thought of waking up past eight in the morning, no 'mother tone' unless one of your boys calls and most importantly...

your well-deserved 'me-time'.

unless you're lucky with rick or sy. or both.

haha jk.

unless...

no. ain't no way they're interested. not even for one night. ever.

rick, on the other hand, tried not to think too much of your jaw-dropping yoga moments. but it's too late, to be honest. he's glad he chose a shirt with a longer hem when he came here.

but it wasn't just that. he wished it was 'cause it would've been much easier. no, it was more than just you in these suggestive positions.

it's your duality. like sy, rick took you as the approachable and almost shy sweetheart next door and nothing more.

but as months passed by, they began to realize the true definition of 'in evil, there's kindness'. for years, their lives were filled with details that no man would wish to even acknowledge. not especially the residents of reve road. so it's not surprise that the things they went through turned them into the way they are; slightly reserved and almost brutish to many. they're used to people come and go, depending on the context.

when you came along, or well, they came along and met you. and almost immediately, they were able to describe you in ways that they didn't even know were in their vocabulary.

it's your caring nature which doesn't limit to tommy and billy. sy, rick, mr and mrs williams, hell, even one of the angry mom club members for whatever reason. you care but you weren't naive either. you've seen the real world and even survived it plenty of times. how did you think you were able to care for the boys in the first place?

of course rick couldn't ignore you. how could he when you're the only person who'd wish him to 'stay safe' every time you two saw each other every morning? when you left him that small box of homemade chocolate truffles after he told you it's his favourite? or when he knocked on your door one night.

he couldn't sleep when all he could see in his dreams were the darks parts of his missions and it went on for days. until you pulled his head onto your lap, stroking his messy hair as he silently let out a tear or two.

he woke up the next morning refreshed and comfortably wrapped in a soft blanket that smelled like you. he couldn't find you around nor the boys around, only to find a piece of note which read:

'gotta send the boys to school, there's some breakfast sandwiches in the kitchen for you :)'

he ate his food in silence and while he would've preferred yours or even billy and tommy's presence, he hasn't felt this at ease as he is now. the sense of calmness at how... domestic, if he's making sense.

from then on, he'd always ask about your well-being. just a simple 'everything okay?' or 'anyone bothering you?' since the it's the least he can do.

he won't admit it but he absolutely adores assisting you in picking billy and tommy up in school.

normality was one thing, but it gives him a reason to glare at anyone who looks at you the wrong way.

well, he does it too but he knows his boundaries.

and then, there's syverson. that brooding bastard.

rick's words, not mine.

they've met a couple of times, mostly when they're both out to check their mailbox or in the gym working (or trying to catch a glimpse of you).

and by met a couple of times, i mean 'nodding curtly at each other and be on their way'.

upon meeting you, there's an unspoken rivalry between the two. now no longer greeting with a silent nod but instead, staring down at each other. loathing, for lack of a better word.

sy growing closer to you was just as personal as rick's.

walking home together whenever you both are at the gym, meeting and helping the williams' as your parents when he stumbled upon you tending their flowers (and unknowingly making him the second candidate for you by mrs williams) but there's one night in particular that stood out to him the most.

he found you standing on your front porch, marvelling at the starry night. you seemed absolutely content and without a care in the world. he couldn't help himself by doing the same and tease you a little.

"first time seeing the stars?" you lost your composure at the husky voice coming the house on your right. through your attempts to calm you rapidly beating heart, you chuckled.

"no, just a little amazed to see so many," it's true — it's not often you'd see the sky littered with them so you're taking in as much as you can.

"the boys not at home?" he didn't think he'd actually seem interested in knowing the boys' well-being but here we are.

"nope, they're in the city with their cousins for the night," they're not even in their 20s and you're already worried of the day that they might not need you anymore. you know they'd still love you but they'd have their own lives, meaning you might not be their main priority.

noticing the change in your demeanour, sy did the courtesy of changing the subject.

"you had your dinner already?" you shot him a thankful smile before shaking your head.

"not yet. making lasagna, though. you?"

"i was just about to make something," he's not a michelin chef but he knows how to cook the necessary.

"why not join me?" you surprised both him and yourself by your offer but you could really use some company. sy's always been laidback with you and you hoped you didn't tarnish that by doing this.

"you sure? don't wanna cause you anymore trouble by making another plate,"

"please," you snorted, "i made enough to keep as leftovers for when the boys come home,"

thus, that's how he spent the night. your house was cozy and the dinner was beyond his expectation. nothing could beat a good home-cooked food, let alone when so much love is put into it.

he didn't leave right after dinner, not when he's already deep into whatever the conversation was that night. he felt at ease for once — obliged to, even. no facade nor fear of showing weaknesses, even for a few hours. he went back home just hours before tommy and billy's arrival. despite not wanting to when you seemed so relaxed in your bed. he stroked your hair for a few minutes and on his way, even if he was tempted to kiss your forehead.

none of you spoke up about that night, but you may or may not have noticed how laxed he became with you and even your boys. he never had any issues with them, he wanted to make sure he's not the reason why they're scared to be out in the front yard whenever with him.

you thought he was just finally loosening up to you the same way rick trusted you with his feelings. you didn't think it could go beyond that.

but the universe had other plans, thus brings you to the bar today.

'stay home,' rick contemplated whether to do the thing he's always wanted but what's stopping him is rejection. he can accept it but the aftermath of it? where there's a possibility you won't talk to him the same way anymore?

that terrifies him. and he needs a moment.

"i'll be right back, okay?" he stood up from his seat and navigated the cramped restroom somewhere. you wondered if you brought up anything bad for him to run off like that but stayed put nonetheless.

and just like before, your lack of company didn't last long.

"(y/n)?" your stomach flipped at distinguishable husky voice and found another sight to behold.

"sy, hey," you smiled and so did he, just not as wide as yours. he never liked anyone calling him as such so who knew he'd be more than okay with now?

albeit, it's only for your usage.

by now, the angry mom club had either left because they couldn't witness the sight of both the captain and colonel approaching you without hesitance or is still in the bar, trying to comfort the 'leader' of the squad who's busy muttering 'why doesn't anyone love me' through her drunken state.

even though we're talking about the same person who's a ceo, has a husband who's actually faithful for once (but purposely antagonized), a dream house and three kids who are as open-hearted as your boys. but okay i guess, linda.

okay, back to you!

"seems like you have a lot in your mind," the hint of concern in his eyes were enough to tell you that he was genuinely worried for you. he motioned to the seat next you as if to say 'mind if I take a seat?'.

"please, go ahead," you patiently waited for him to order his drink before continuing, "nah, i was just wondering what to do this weekend,"

"the boys aren't around?" thank god he stopped himself from sounding hopeful.

"out in the city having game night with their cousins," he hummed and easily downed his shot. he needed it after a slight chaos that happened in the base, "what about you? got any plans?"

"no, work's been tough with the boys," he turned to you, "it's like taking care of a bunch of kids,"

"excuse you," you tutted, "my boys are wonderful,"

"never said they weren't," he replied nonchalantly, hiding his amusement behind the glass. the laughs dimmed down to a comfortable silence, or, the silence between both of you. it's a bar, after all. but he grew curious of the half-empty glass next to yours.

"you came with a friend?" you shook your head.

"no, rick came in after I did," your turned your head to the restroom, "speaking of, where is he?"

unbeknownst to you, this was their plan all along. by now, they're aware of how you had to take life by the horns but deep down, you're yearning for someone to take that role for you. you needed someone to tell you that you're doing a good job.

praise you the way you deserve.

you wanted someone to guide you for once and yes; that includes behind closed doors.

and though rick and sy despised each other, if there's something they can agree on, it's to please you. be there for you the same way you did for them. so, that's what they did.

they agreed.

"(y/n)," sy's almost authoritative tone grabbed your attention. it's not the same tone he'd use on his comrades but enough to cause a stomach flip in you, "flag and i have been talking,"

oh? now that you think about it, you've never seen the two talk at all.

"about...?" you trailed off in such a meek voice, only to jump in your seat when you felt someone's breath tickled the back of your neck.

"about you," rick whispered as he took his seat, ignoring sy who looked at him in irritation for successfully drawing the submissiveness out of you before he did.

"a-ah," you stuttered, "w-what about me that's so interesting?"

"what's not interesting about you, sweetheart?" sy's hand took ahold of yours, the callousness contrasted with his gentle touch. he left a few kisses on the back of your hand, all while maintaining his eye contact with you. that, plus rick wrapping one arm around your waist with your back almost against him, you could pass out at any given moment, "compassionate, considerate, graceful,"

"and yet stern when she needs to be," rick added in, remembering how you shot someone down for vocally insulting your sons for no valid reason, "has anyone ever told you how much of a good girl you are?"

now that right there is a hazard. you didn't know how to answer to that. they noticed how you squeezed your thighs together and smirked. you're so glad boss wasn't around to see this but then again, he's probably in on this too.

"flag asked you a question, sweetheart," sy nearly growled at the sound of your little whimpers, both from his intense gaze and rick peppering kisses on your shoulder.

"n-no," you nearly shrieked as rick's lips found your sensitive spot in between your neck and shoulder blade, "no one's ever c-called me their good girl..."

their good girl.

"would you like us to?" your eyes widened at the usage of 'us' instead of 'me', meaning they were both onto this. they both wanted you. they both yearned for you, "you can spend the weekend with me," rick continued.

"or me," sy argued, prompting a click of a tongue from the colonel before focusing back on you.

"or him. but for now, we've both agreed on something," rick gently turned your head back to look into his eyes.

"that is...?"

"let us treat you the way you deserve,"

the journey back to your home was a blur, especially when you're sandwiched between men shaped as greek gods. between sy's french kissing and rick's hands roaming under your dress, it's amazing how your knees haven't buckled yet. that, or one of them is just helping you from doing so.

on one hand, you're extremely nervous — you trust them more than you have ever trusted anyone, but it's been so long since you've been intimate, let alone with more than one person at once.

"don't do that," rick mumbled behind your ear, nosing your hair, "don't doubt yourself,"

you didn't question how he knew, too fixated on his hand creeping down under the hem of your dress.

"fuck," rick ran his fingers up and down your clothed sex, imagining the intoxicating taste on his lips already, "baby girl, you're fucking wet already,"

sy's kisses intensified, groaning at the idea of your wet panties even before the real deal. it didn't take long until they brought you up to your room, now in your thigh high socks and soaking panties while they only had their shirts off.

when sy asked if you had lube, you didn't think much of it. that is, until you heard him chuckle lowly, only then did you remember.

your butt plug.

"naughty girl," he inspected the toy — stainless steel with a pink jewel at the end of it. the combination of innocence yet eroticism was enough rile both him and rick up, "who knew you'd have such a dirty little toy,"

"i-..." you wanted to defend yourself. it's a completely normal human nature, right? just because you haven't slept with anyone for so long doesn't mean you were a celibate either.

"who did you think about you played with your little pussy, darlin'?" rick gently pushed you on the bed and hovered over your side on one arm, trailing his other hand down to your clit. your cheeks burned at the question because you thought about both of them. you shook your head so cutely, gripping the sheets at either side of your head.

but that wasn't enough. sy sat at the opposite side and out of the blue, he slapped your ass. you arched your back as your body heat only grew at the sensation.

"oh, you like that, don't you?" he massaged the reddening cheek, causing your hips to buck into his hands and rick's teasing fingers, "when we ask you a question, we expect an answer, baby,"

he had his authoritative tone back on and you quickly answered.

"y-yes, I do l-love it, sy," you tilted your head back, "rick... fuck, please don't stop,"

"not yet," you whined when he pulled his fingers away, only to be silenced by his lips on yours, "we need to make sure you can follow orders, so first, go ahead and rest against the headboard and spread your legs,"

you tilted your head but nevertheless sluggishly moved back to the headboard. you felt so exposed but didn't dare to disobey them any further.

for now.

"look at you," sy commented in approval, "you're so sexy when you can follow our orders," you dug your heels into the mattress, looking down momentarily until he approached your side, "now, what we want you to do is simple,"

he passed you your butt plug before walking over to your velvet office chair. you looked at rick questioningly, whose eyes only grew more dangerous at the sight of the toy in your hand.

"well, go on," rick propped one leg on the bed while the other dropped to the side of it, opening the fly of his pants, "be our good girl and play yourself with it. we want that toy of yours in your tight hole before you can have either of us,"

you didn't think it was possible to feel anymore turned on than you are now, but this was a different level of sexy. they licked their lips at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing and if they don't feel or even taste you anytime soon, so help them.

sy was already seated in your office chair while rick was close enough to reach your ankle if he wanted to. their cocks were out and ready to see you at your most debauched.

slowly but surely, you sat just a little, only to drool onto your clit, letting it trail down your hole, taking pride in the groans coming from both men. sy had the plug lubed up but what's the harm in taking precautionary measures, right?

you brought the toy down your clit, breath hitching at the coldness of it before teasing your lips. the started off slow, wrapping their hands around the base of their cocks and pumping it up and down slowly. you bit your lips at the beads of precum leaking onto their hands.

unable to tease them and yourself any longer, you ground your hips against the toy and clenched around the tip.

"fucking hell," sy's groans were silenced by the slicks sounds of their pumping. if you were this hot and bothered by just the little toy, they could only imagine the raging pleasure once it's their turn, "on your knees, sweetheart. let's see that ass on display,"

you did as he told, rubbing your pussylips with both hands and finally feeling yourself in the best way.

"slap your pussy for us, baby," you didn't hesitate at rick's order and tapped your slit a couple of times. you were almost drooling on the sheets already.

rick was salivating at the sight of your pretty wet pussy and fuck, if he didn't have anymore self control, he would've shoved his tongue into you right then and there. sy, on the other hand was clenching his jaw — he didn't want to cum just yet, he's not even in the best part yet.

"get that shiny pink plug nice and slick before you shove it in," sy commanded you with that gruffly voice of his and you'd be damned if you weren't going to follow it all. your blindly guided the toy up to your tight hole, grinding into it and imagining it as one of their cocks or even their thick fingers. finally, you deliciously moaned at the fullness, rutting against the silky sheets.

"oh, fuck, look at that," rick moved his hips rhythmically, the images of fucking you from behind was too much to bear, "finger yourself, darlin', show us how wet you really are,"

moving your free hand underneath, you eased in a finger and rocked yourself against your hand. it didn't take long till a second finger made its way in, whimpering into your pillow that sent shivers down their spines.

"fuck this, i can't take it anymore, come here," suddenly, rick dragged you closer to him by the ankles, earning a shriek when your fingers dug deeper into you, "don't stop at my account, okay?"

and just like that, he shoved his tongue into your pussy, keeping you grounded by gripping your thighs apart.

"ah! f-fuuuck, rick," you cried out, fisting the blanket as his tongue reached into your most vulnerable, "i-i can't-"

"you can and you will," sy stood in front of you in all his glory, bending down a little to caress your face, "you're our good girl, aren't you?"

"i am...! i am a good g-girl.."

"whose?"

"y-yours...!" rick smacked your ass from behind, "y-yours! and rick's!"

sy narrowed his eyes at the colonel but didn't call him out on it. no, he had other businesses to take care of.

"yes you are," his breaths grew heavy at your obedience and took the spot of leaning against the headboard, "is my good girl aching to suck my cock?"

"i do..." you pathetically begged, biting your lips at the majestic size of it — his was little girthier while rick's seemed a little longer. nonetheless, it's going to be quite the ride to fit them in. speak of the devil; rick replaced your two fingers with one of his, confirming your fantasies that their fingers were absolutely thick.

"suck those fingers, sweetheart," sy eyed your digits that's covered in your juices, his cock pulsating when you bravely maintained eye contact as your soft lips took in your fingers. as soon as you take it out, he took your face in both hands before crashing his lips into yours, savouring the rousing taste.

"go ahead," he whispered when he pulled away. he would've asked you to beg even further but even he has his limits. plus, you've been following orders so well, you deserve a little break.

you would've thanked him but with rick's broad tongue and the butt plug in your ass? maybe it's best to do so later.

you slowly licked the base up to the tip, sucking in a breath when you could practically feel the veins. the precum dripped down onto your tongue before spitting it back on the crown of his cock. you were about to shut your eyes at rick's second finger when sy forced you to look up at him by the back of your head.

a gentle(r) reminder not to close your eyes at this very moment.

you continued your kitten licks around his shaft, elated at the way it jumps at every of your ministration. but you didn't tease him for long — you needed him now.

you wrapped a hand around his base, blinking at how big it truly is before snapping out of it. you were already moaning around his cock before you could even bob your head up and down. rick really wasn't going easy on you.

you looked up at the captain through your lashes, taking in the sight of his head back and mouth open. his hold onto your head neither tightened nor loosened. rick's fingers were knuckles deep and you were pretty sure you were going to cum soon, especially when he's picking up the pace.

the squelching coming from behind you brought sy out of his daze, only to realize that you were getting close.

"is baby girl going to cum soon?" his eyes darkened at the mixture of drool and precum coating his shaft, "why don't you beg for it?"

with his hand on the back of your neck, you released him with a 'pop', a string of saliva connected between your lips and his tip.

"r-rick..." you called his name weakly, eye fluttering to shut when sy's thumb caressed your lips from his shaft to lap at the spit-precum concoction before continuing, "please let m-me cum..."

"aww, darlin'," he taunted, both his saliva and your juices ran down his chin, "you can do better than that," he took ahold your butt plug, pushing it in and out just a little, "turn around, rest your back against syverson's front for me,"

your limps were nearly jelly at this point so you're glad sy carried you around as if you were weightless. his cock throbbed behind you whilst rick's wasn't any better — fucking his own hand but it was all worth it.

sy snaked one arm around your waist, tilting your chin up with the other hand so he could give you all the chaste kisses. rick's hand forced your legs open, prompting you to grab onto sy's forearm that's wrapped around your body.

"can you give me the sweetest begging? then you can cum as much you'd like,"

sy held your jaw in his hand and rested his forehead against yours, "you heard him. beg."

and begging, you did, babe.

"please rick! please let cum! I'm-I'm gonna squirt-!" you eyes popped open at the last part, and so did sy's and rick's.

squirt, huh?

"my baby can squirt too?" rick's fingers reached in a part that nearly pushed you over the edge, "can you squirt around my thick fingers? can you do that, pretty girl?"

"yes! please, f-fuck yes," you just needed your release and as promised, he fingerfucked you like there's no tomorrow. his tongue tried to capture each drops of your juices while sy held you down. his breathy moans in your ear didn't help either and before you knew it, your eyes rolled back before gushing all over rick's fingers, mouth and chin. sy purposely bit your neck to hear you cry out in ecstacy.

you couldn't help but shake in sy's arms as he cooed.

"you did so well, sweetheart," he licked the little bits of sweat off of your neck, "my good girl,"

even in your fucked-out state, you gave him the most irresistible smile. you lazily turned your attention to rick, bashful at essence dripping down his chin.

"s-sorry," you played the edges of your thigh high socks, only to be snatched out of sy's arms and into rick's.

"don't," he warned lightly, "you did what i asked you to do, didn't you?"

"mhm," you nodded in his chest.

"then I don't see why you need to be sorry," he concluded, his chest rumbling out of delight. you purred in his touch but immediately froze up at the captain's next words.

"but it's not over yet, baby," he had a sinister look on his face, and so did rick, "what do you say? you up for another round, sweetheart?"

what do you say?

there's not way you could leave them high and dry, right?

'cause let's just say; with that flexibility of yours? riding sy's cock while sucking rick's after is only the beginning of it all.

-> lol a mess. next time, i'm writing in bullet point form + i'm no smut writer but joel kinnaman fics has me in a chokehold.

-> reve road is just my interpretation of a neighbourhood where milf!reader + your favourite men lives in!

-> anyway! it's time we show some love for my current rick flag & cpt syverson obsessions (smut and/or fluff-focused)!

r. flag:

r e a d e v e r y t h i n g by @babblydrabbly

again, e v e r y t h i n g by @lacontroller1991

remedy & welcome home by @sweetfictionalworld

cpt. syverson:

homeland & make me your future history by @cruelfvkingsummer

vignettes series by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

#— reve's reverie 🌹#rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag smut #rick flag fluff #rick flag #joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman smut #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x you #syverson x reader #captain syverson smut #syverson smut #captain syverson #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #milf!reader #x reader

1K notes · View notes

f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Daddy’s Princess Fairy

pairing: Husband!Dad!Sy x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: Sy comes home to his newborn babygirl and wife after his last ever deployment, and he’s desperate to meet his tiny twin, and get into his wife’s panties (Dilf Sy) likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Daddy’s nearly home booboo, he’ll be out here any second now” Y/n cooed bouncing her baby girl in her arms, the two month old softly snuggled against her mama, the both of them waiting at the entrance of the military base along with the other families. Her eyes tracing each body that left the aircraft, her breath hitching when she saw her big hunk of a man step out, his head shaven but his beard grown rough and long. God he looked filthy but so sexy.

Biting her lip she saw him take off his dark sunglasses as he scanned the crowd carefully, his lips pulling into a smirk once he saw his baby momma waiting at the back, away from the crowd; holding his baby girl. Practically skipping all the steps he threw his bag to the ground, his built arms bringing his wife and newborn into his arms, this was his first time home since that night their daughter was conceived. That one special night by the fireplace.

“Fuck pumpkin, missed ya n’ your sweet self s’much” He grumbled inhaling her scent deeply as he grazed his nose up and down her cheek, his other hand cupping his daughter’s head, this would be the first time he would see her in person. “And this- this is Penelope, Penelope Syverson” Y/n giggled holding up Penelope up to Sy, and even he could see she already was his twin, the same grouchy look already.

“She’s stinkin’ adorable, i’d say jus’ like her momma but i’m seein’ frowns on her already” Sy chuckled seeing his babygirl whimper and wiggle, leading Y/n to place the tiny babe into his arms, and just the mere size difference between the father and daughter was enough to make a witch’s heart melt. “She missed you, anytime you wasn’t on the phone she’d cry and whimper until I played your voicemail” Y/n explained tucking Penelope’s bib a bit more, seeing how she was drooling onto her daddy’s arm.

“Awk babygirl you break ma heart, m’not leavin’ again, I can’t do it- that’s me done” Sy chuckled bending down and kissing her forehead, breathing out a sigh of relief, he was finally discharged and able to start the rest of his life. “Damn right you aren’t leavin’, we still need to give our bubby a brother” Giggling Y/n latched herself onto his arm, the happy family walking towards the pickup truck waiting for them; Y/n watched on as Sy carefully put his pride and joy into her carseat, pouting up at Y/n when he realised Penelope wouldn’t let go of his finger.

“Babe, jus pull your finger out come on” Y/n laughed as he shook his head, “no can do sugar, don’t want my babygirl thinkin’ am leavin’ her again, can’t be her first heartbreak”

“If ya let go i’ll give ya some of your treat when we get home, after I put Pen down for her nap” It hadn’t even been two seconds but Sy carefully pulled his finger out, kissed his baby bye bye, and jogged over to the driver’s side of the pickup truck. “Now ya gotta keep your promise, wait- are you even okay down ‘er” Sy questioned looking concerned down at her crotch, he knew how hard the healing process was for his wife, needing stitches and medication. It honestly broke his heart that she had to go through it alone, but she was strong and independent, just his typa woman.

“Yup! Doctor gave me the green light a while ago, jus wanted to surprise ya for when you got home, Captain Syverson” Y/n winked grabbing a handful of his thigh tightly, his eyes widening and smacking her hand off, “Jesus woman didn’t ya read the sticker on the car? There’s a baby on board” He joked intertwining their hands and kissing her knuckles, leaning forward and pressing a heated kiss to her lips, his beard scratching her face in the best way possible. His tongue venturing out to lick over hers, tasting his favourite watermelon lipbalm causing him to groan into their kiss.

“Forgot how much I missed these luscious lips of yours” He growled pulling away, kissing her lips once more before sitting back in his seat to look at her, his wife. “Yeah? What else did ya miss” She giggled leaning over and pulling him back towards her, both her hands holding onto his as she looked up at him, her fingers then playing mindlessly with the wedding ring on the chain around his neck.

“These other lips down ‘ere” Laughing his hands smoothed up her thighs, settling under her dress, right on top of her panties waistband; he could already feel that it was those cotton white ones that he had a thing for. She just knows him so well. “No you didn’t”

“I did” She winked pulling up her skirt enough to show the start of the soft cotton pants, pulling the skirt down fast enough once his fingers tried their way up again. “Nuh uh mister, only when the angel is bed do we get to play” She scolded turning the ignition on for him, watching as he scoffed and turned his attention to the road

“Alright princess fairy queen, ah need ya to get to sleep pronto” Sy whispered into his baby’s tiny ears, the tiny tot sleeping on his bare chest, her head nestled comfortably on the curls on his chest. Her tiny fist clutched peacefully as tiny gurgles and coos came out every time she hiccuped or moved. “Princess fairy queen? Really Sy?” He heard his wife ask from the nursery door, clad in her white silk robe, very clearly not wearing anything underneath.

“I need my little girl to know she’s the best of ‘em all, n’ that means callin’ her every nickname on God’s Earth so she knows how much ah love her” Looking down at his tiny tot, he felt the need to lean down and nuzzle his nose with hers, pulling away instantly when he heard a toot. A fart.

“Now was that from me or you?” Sy frowned holding her up to face him, her tiny eyes clearly shocked, her own farts had woken her up just from how loud it was; “Tell ya what bubby, you’re definitely your daddy’s daughter”

“Yeah there’s now way that loud thing came outta this tiny precious sugar cube” Sy questioned seeing the tired girl had gone to sleep in his arms again, thankfully for Sy’s sake she didn’t need changed, well not yet anyway.

It finally seemed like baby Penelope finally got the memo when she finally stayed asleep in her bassinet, after 20 minutes of him just whispering pointless happy memories of him and her momma, many soft baby back rubs and head scratches and of course with her binky in place. Princess Penelope was down for her nap. Now Sy could have his wife, any way he darn wanted.

“Momma, you spoil me too much” Walking into their shared bedroom Sy saw his wife, her robe untied as she laid on the bed waiting for him, a chocolate covered strawberry already in her mouth as she winked at him, her legs spread open showing off her glistening folds; she needed him as much as he needed her.

“Irish twins?” Y/n asked plucking the strawberry from her mouth, licking its juices from her lips as she quirked up a brow; Sy doing nothing but growl and rush to get rid of his white t-shirt and cargo pants. “I’d give ya irish triplets if it were possible” He snarked climbing on top of her, his body hovering over hers as he bit into the strawberry that was back in between her lips, his teeth squeezing the juice down the valley of her tits. His delicious welcome home treat, just for him to enjoy.

———

PSA:Hope you all enjoy this bit of Daddy Sy 😗

Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

Taglist (not accepting, please use library)

@pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25

See you all again very soon xoxo

- Fae

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #captain sy x reader #captain sy x wife!reader #dad!sy #henry cavill fluff #captain sy #captain sy fanfiction #captain syverson #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x y/n #sy x reader #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #syverson x you

2K notes · View notes

sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

Note

Hi there 🐇 I have been thinking and came up with an 💡How bout Sy snd his wife going for a drive and ending up at the lookout where they first kissed? Things get hot and heavy and they end up having sex in the car only to be busted by the police! 😂

Summary: You and Sy have been married for ten years. About 18 months ago you split up to protect yourself and your two boys after he refused to get help with his issues. Sy agreed to get help and it seems to have worked and now he wants to get back together. He recently got back from a 12 month deployment and you decide to go on a date to see if you can reconcile.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 8.2k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, fluff, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, suggestions of a breeding kink, suggestions of a praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, Dad!Sy, Husband!Sy.

Authors Note: Thanks for the prompt Anon. So, the story took a turn. I started to think about why Sy would want to take you to the place you first kissed, and I thought maybe he wanted to remind you why you got together in the first place. I then started thinking about a story I’ve had in my mind for a while, a revisit to one of my first one-shots where Sy and the reader had split up. So, I kind of melded that story with your prompt and this is the result. It’s not a direct continuation, but it serves as a bit of a back story, if you would like to read it, the link is here.

Thanks to @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed for their help with this story, and their encouragement. You guys are awesome. Edited by me, there will be errors!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Lookout

You’d had high hopes for tonight’s “date”, but by the time the waiter offers the dessert menu and coffees, you realise it isn’t working. You tried, are trying, but perhaps too much time has passed, perhaps too much has happened, perhaps you have hurt each other too much to expect that your relationship could pick up where it left off.

Shaking your head to indicate you don’t want dessert, you see Sy’s shoulders drop as he tells the waiter to bring the check. You clench your jaw, fighting the feeling in the back of your throat that you’re about to cry. You hate hurting him like this. He was trying so hard, had done everything you had asked of him, yet something won’t allow you to love him again.

That isn’t quite right, you do still love him, you always will. You love him for the amazing eight years you had together before everything went to shit, for the two beautiful boys he gave you. But it was a different kind of love, the love of familiarity and comfort, rather than an all consuming passion.

What hurts most is that neither of you are really at fault. You can’t blame Sy for shutting down and withdrawing, just as you can’t blame yourself for protecting your boys and giving Sy the choice to get help or get out. You understood he had been worried about losing his job, the career he had been building for fifteen years, but surely, he should have been more worried about losing his family.

Although the conversation was awkward and unnatural before, it was better than the tense silence that follows as you wait for the bill. You open your mouth to say something, but there’s nothing there. You can’t stand it, the silence, the disappointment in Sy’s eyes, the guilt you feel. Abruptly, you stand up and mumble to Sy you need to go to the bathroom, you had to find a moment alone.

You feel so confused. You don’t know what’s stopping you from accepting him back into your heart. There must still be feelings for him beyond nostalgia and the vague notion that he’s the father of your children. If there was nothing more than that, why were you so upset? For all intents and purposes, he was still the man you fell in love with. He still made the same stupid jokes, was still cocksure in the most charming way, you still found him attractive and other than the brief period two years ago, he always treated you well. You can’t put your finger on what’s stopping you from reuniting and if you can’t understand why, how are you going to explain how you feel to Sy?

When you can put it off no longer, you return to the table. Sy is standing there waiting, he must have already settled the bill. You feel like a bitch, but you avoid his eyes as you return to your chair and grab your bag.

“Shall we go?” you ask, still not looking at him. Sy grunts in agreement and holds his arm out in an ‘after you’ gesture. As soon there is space enough between the tables, he falls in line beside you and places his large hand on the small of your back. It feels warm, familiar, and safe, but for some reason it makes you stiffen, and you pull away from his touch.

Sy jerks his hand away as if burned, balling it briefly into a fist before he closes his eyes and shakes his head. You know those movements; you’ve seen them before when he’s made a mistake out of carelessness, or when he’s frustrated, or when he’s mad at himself for doing something he knows he shouldn’t have.

Even now, Sy is ever the gentleman and pulls ahead to open the restaurant door for you. Giving him a superficial smile in thanks, you are both quiet as you make your way to his truck. You regret that you had come together knowing the ride home will be hell considering the state you were both in.

You wonder what you were doing, why you even bothered to agree to the date. It seems to make your relationship worse, every interaction pushing you further apart. You know Sy, he will only stand the rejection for so long before he gives up completely. Is that what you want? Do you want a deep, cold chasm between you, a rift that can never be repaired? He has given you time, space to breathe, sought help, maintained a relationship with the boys, and shown you he still loves you. He’s given you all that and what have you given him? Nothing but pain and rejection. And why? You don’t have any real hard feelings against him, you have forgiven him, so what’s holding you back? What is left that could possibly be a reason not to lower the defences you built to protect yourself? The answer hits you like a ton of bricks.

“I’m scared, Sy,” you murmur. He stops walking, so you do too. You’re only a few yards from his truck and you curse, you should have waited to have this conversation when you were in private.

“Of me? Is that why you flinched when I touched you?”

“Yes and no,”

“I ain’t ever hurt you.”

“Not physically.” Sy looks wounded and your heart aches. The instinct to reach out and let him bring you into his arms is still there, but you don’t seem to be able to make yourself do it.

“I’ve done everythin’ I can to make up for what happened and to show you it ain’t gonna happen again.” Sy sounds frustrated and you don’t blame him. He folds his arms over his chest, and shrugs. “Sugar, I don’t know what else you need from me.”

“I don’t know what I need either.”

“Is this over then? Is it pointless to even try?”

“No. It’s just…” You take a deep breath and try to be honest. “I just felt so alone, Sy. I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

“You won’t Sugar.” Sy’s hand reaches for yours, but he draws it back at the last second. Unexpectedly, you feel disappointed. The feeling is a revelation, perhaps there was a chance. You step closer to Sy and take his hand. He looks a little puzzled then half smiles.

“I know you won’t do it on purpose,” you say. You shake your head. “Part of me wishes we could go back to the beginning. Maybe do things a little different, I don’t know.”

You’re both quiet for a while. You think you must make a great sight, standing on the sidewalk, holding hands like young teenagers on a first date, shyly standing a foot apart. Sy must be thinking the same thing and takes a step closer.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, holding his arms wide and beckoning you with a short jerk of his head. You let the instinct you repressed earlier free and step into his arms.

The feeling of him is instantly familiar despite not having been this close to him since he hugged you when he first got home from his last deployment. You bury your head into his chest, the comforting scent of him warms you. You don’t want to lose him, you can’t stand the thought of never having him touch you again. You wrap your arms around his waist, and you hear Sy’s chest reverberate as he hums. God, you miss that sound.

Sy pulls back but doesn’t let you go. “Hey,” he says and waits for you to look at him before he goes on. “Can I take you somewhere?”

“Where?” you ask.

Sy doesn’t reply straight away. He gives you a smile as he raises his hand to your cheek and rubs his thumb over your skin. “A place we haven’t been for a long time,” he says in a low tone. Your heart skips, it has been a long time since Sy has touched you or spoken to you like that.

“Alright,” you say, returning his smile. Even though his response is cryptic, you are curious to see what he had in mind.

Sy brings your head to his chest and letting out an exaggerated grunt, squeezes you. For a second you struggle to breathe as he kisses the top of your head. Then you laugh because for a moment being with Sy feels like it used to. You hear his rumbling chuckle as he lets you go and opens the truck’s door for you.

The drive is sedate, and your conversation centre’s mostly around the boys. Every time the topic edges close to your relationship, Sy diverts the discussion to something else. You quickly realise he’s doing it on purpose, and you let him, hoping that when you get where you’re going he will stop.

As Sy keeps driving, you become increasingly puzzled. You’re well outside of town now, the houses start to become spaced further and further apart. You struggle to think of what’s out here. There’s no real reason to go this far into the outskirts.

“Sy, where are we going?” you ask, starting to be a little concerned. It’s getting late, not that you really had anywhere to be since the kids were staying at your sister’s house. But still, a thirty minute drive out of town means a thirty minute drive back into town and you wonder if you will make it back without falling asleep.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Sy smirks.

Shaking your head, you look out the window and try to identify any landmarks. It’s so dark, all you see is the two lane highway. Sy puts his indicator on and takes an exit, and seeing the exit sign, you grin as you realise where he’s taking you.

“Really Sy?” you ask, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Why not?” he asks back. “I have a lot of fond memories of this place. Don’t you?”

You laugh openly and feel your face getting heated. He glances at you, flashing you his teeth, and as he turns his attention back to the road, he lays a hand on your knee.

“I’ve missed hearin’ you laugh, Sugar,” he says, as he pulls off the road into the small gravel car park at the lookout. You watch him drive onehanded, his palm pressed onto the wheel, sliding over the plastic and leather, and bringing the truck to a stop. His hands are so big and strong, it was one of the things that had always drawn you to him.

Sy kills the engine but leaves the radio on and classic rock wafts softly through the speakers. Both of you unbuckle your belts and Sy puts his hand back on your knee. You’re quiet for a bit, lost in your thoughts, but thankfully this silence doesn’t feel like the awkwardness at dinner.

You wonder what Sy is thinking about, although you imagine that he’s thinking the same things you are, remembering all the firsts that happened here. The first time Sy kissed you, the first time you gave Sy a blow job, the first fight you had, the first time you had make up sex, and the first time you had been busted fucking, all happened here. It had been an important place to for you both in the early days of your relationship. That Sy thought to bring you here was sweet, hell it was romantic. It is like he is trying to get you to a place where you remembered why you got together in the first place. Perhaps if your relationship grew here, coming back could breathe new life into it, repair the parts that were broken and make it anew. Sy brought you back to the beginning.

You stare at Sy’s hand, slightly hairy, calloused, toughened and tanned by his work, so familiar you knew every vein, every line and every scar. He must have noticed you staring because he turns his hand, palm now facing up, open and inviting yours. You place yours in his and you smile at the size difference as he laces your fingers together.

“When did you start wearin’ your ring again?” Sy asks, running his thumb over the three interlocking circles, each a different colour gold.

“A couple of months ago. Not long before you came back from your tour.” When I knew I wanted to give you another chance, you added silently.

Sy shifts in his seat and when you look at him his face is close to yours. His eyes hold yours as he lets go of your hand and brings both of his up to your cheeks. Your heart starts to thunder in your chest as he licks at his lips and sucks the lower one into his mouth.

It’s been over a year since you last kissed Sy anywhere but his cheek. When you took the boys to see him when he returned from deployment, you had allowed him to hug you because of course you were relieved he was home, and you still cared about him. But you had offered him your cheek when he had tried to kiss you, you hadn’t been quite ready for more than that. You still remember the look in his eyes, the moment that his hope had been dashed, and it had nearly broken your heart.

Sy searches your face for any sign that you want him to kiss you and you see the hope return to his eyes. Unlike last time, you want to kiss him too, so you place a hand in the middle of his chest lean in slightly. You hear a low grunt from him as he presses his lips against yours. His kiss is intense, overwhelming, like all his pent-up need is thrust upon you in one hit. His soft lips move roughly, his whiskers scrape and scratch at your skin, and his hands hold your face tight. There is nothing practiced or planned about his kiss, it is all instinctual passion, and you melt into it, kissing him back with the same fervour as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Eventually Sy relaxes his hold on you but doesn’t move, instead he rests his forehead on yours while he caresses your cheeks. His breath is hot and heavy, stealing your oxygen as his broad chest draws in air, but you don’t pull away. It seems to you that with each moment you stay like this, the divide between you seems to repair itself. You feel his love, but more than that, you feel his desire.

Sy kisses you again with only slightly less fervency. Keeping one hand on your cheek he moves the other to your neck, wrapping around it briefly before it skims over you and cups your breast. You don’t move, you don’t know how you feel exactly, and he barely gives you times to think. He slips his fingers into the top of your dress and bra, and you hear him hum as he brushes your nipple. You stop breathing, it feels good but it’s also too fast, just kissing Sy again was a big step, and you aren’t sure you want more than that yet. You were going to tell him how you felt when his finger and thumb take your hardening bud and roll it between them, giving it a subtle pinch.

“Stop, Sy,” you say, gently. You hear him groan as he takes his hand out of your bra and rests it on your breast, on top of your clothes this time. “It’s too much.”

“Ok,” he says hoarsely. Sy tilts your head and lays a soft kiss on your forehead. You look at him and he smiles reassuringly. “I’ll slow down.” You smile back at him, and he guides your head to his shoulder.

You stay embracing for a time listening to the music playing faintly in the background. It’s uncomfortable, both of you bending forward over the gear shift and centre console. How did you used to do it? Although Sy’s truck isn’t the same one that he had when you were dating, it had been the same make. You glance in the back of the cab, that was where you had spent most of your time when you came here in the past. It had gotten to the point where as soon as Sy turned off the engine, you both hopped out and got straight into the back seat. That isn’t going to happen this time you realise as you look at the booster car seat your youngest son still needs to use.

Thinking of your boys makes you smile. They have been so happy the last month or so since Sy got home. And he was much more like he used to be with them, playing games and roughhousing, he even took them fishing and camping last weekend, just him and the boys.

You sigh and nuzzle into his neck, pressing your nose into his skin. You nearly laugh when you smell the faint remains of the cologne you had bought for him three Christmas’s ago. The spicey fragrance had traces of leather and wood and as soon as you had smelled it, you knew it would be amazing on him. You remember how he had baulked at wearing it, but that New Year’s Eve he wore it and you liked it so much, within five minutes he had his pants around his ankles and your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you against the wall. He wore it almost daily since then.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at the memory. It doesn’t help that Sy keeps running his fingers over your ear, down your neck, across your shoulder and all the way back. His touch is light, sometimes you forget how gentle he can be, how much of his strength he is able to control. Eventually you feel his caress in your spine and you violently shiver with the pleasure. Sy chuckles softly, it always amused and aroused him when he was able to make your body respond to his touch, especially involuntary reactions like shivering or getting wet.

Lifting your head, you smile at him. Sy’s still smiling as he looks at you. You shift in your seat and groan as you move your back from its awkward position. You sit up straight and stretch, arching your back and lifting your arms over your head, extending them as much as you can in the cramped interior.

“You ok?” Sy asks, eyes on your pushed out chest. You immediately drop your arms and sit back into your chair in a normal seating position, as your heart starts to pick up its pace.

“Yeah. That position is uncomfortable,” you reply, in a voice much steadier than you thought you could.

“Yeah.” Although Sy verbally agrees, you can hear the hint of disappointment in his voice. When he speaks again, despite trying to cover it up, you know him too well and you recognise the discontent in his voice. “I suppose I better getcha home.”

You nod and Sy draws his lips into a line as he starts the truck. As he goes to put his seatbelt on, you reach over again and put your hand on his whiskered cheek, gently turning his face to yours.

“Thank you, Sy,” you say. “It was really sweet of you to bring me here.” His smile returns, though it’s small, and he opens his mouth to say something before shutting it firmly. You lean over in that awkward position, and though your back protests strongly, you kiss him. A short kiss, but it seems to placate Sy a little.

Driving home is quiet, it seems like both of you are caught up in your thoughts. You don’t mind, you want to think about tonight, want to work out how you feel. At some point you place your hand on Sy’s thigh and you see him grin. It makes you happy and you relax into your seat. The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken by Sy as he takes your seatbelt off.

“Did I fall asleep?” you ask stupidly.

Sy chuffs, “Snored for about twenty minutes.”

“I did not.”

Sy helps you out of the truck with a roguish grin. “Whatever you say Darlin’.”

You roll your eyes at him as you grab your bag and fish for your keys. You make your way to the front door, but Sy takes your hand and pulls you into a hug. He puts his fingers under your chin and raises your eyes to his.

“I want…” Sy starts but stops. He licks at his lips and tries again. “Can I stay the night?” You don’t know what he saw on your face because you don’t even know how you feel, but he must have seen something because he swiftly clarifies. “I just wanna hold you, baby.”

“Sy,” you say as gently as possible. You don’t want to discourage him, but you also aren’t sure you’re ready for something that intimate. “Don’t ruin tonight. It was good, let’s do this again next week and…” You don’t get to finish what you wanted to say because Sy interrupts you.

“Don’t make me beg,” Sy says, his voice is ragged, and desperate. Your eyes widen, you know how much it cost him to say that. You’ve only heard him speak in that tone once before, a few days after you kicked him out and he realised you were serious about leaving him.

“The boys… I don’t want the boys confused about us. Seeing us go to dinner is one thing, seeing us wake up together,” you shake your head. “It will confuse them.”

“That’s bullshit, Sugar,” Sy says. “They ain’t even here.” You try pull yourself out of his grasp, but he won’t let you.

“My sister is bringing them back at nine,” you tell him tersely.

“I’ll be gone by seven thirty.”

You look at Sy ready to tell him to just go home, but his expression stops you. You rarely see him like this, there’s no hint of guile, no hint of amusement, no cheeky glint in his eye, it was his honesty laid bare. He kisses you softly, lips barely brushing yours.

“I miss you, Baby,” he murmurs.

You try and say no, but you can’t. Not when he lets himself be vulnerable like this. You know how hard it is for him, how hard he’s trying to be the man he you know he can be.

“Ok,” you say. Barely half a second goes by before Sy growls and locks his lips on yours. You let him kiss you, it feels good, but soon his kisses are too much, they become too demanding, and you pull away. “Sy, let’s go inside.” He hums and slows his kisses to soft pecks on your cheeks before he lets you go.

Every time Sy comes over since you split up has been strange, but tonight was worse. You imagine it must feel weirder for Sy, it looks like his home, has his furniture, his family photos, but it’s not really his home anymore. The first time you had offered him a drink as if he were a guest had been uncomfortable as hell. For a few moments you just stand in the family room, then putting your bag down on the sideboard as you normally do, you cautiously look at Sy.

He’s not far from you, he could reach out and grab you if he wanted to, and he feels too close. You turn away from him, fussing in your bag as you try to order your thoughts. Shaking your head, you wonder how you let him talk you into this.

“Do you want a coffee, or do you want to watch a movie or something?” You ask Sy, trying to sound casual, trying to stall going to your room.

“You’re tired.” Sy’s voice is closer than you expect. He puts his hands on your shoulders and works his thumbs into your muscles. You feel his beard tickling at your neck and his lips brush the shell of your ear when he whispers. “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

Side stepping out of Sy’s grasp you say, “Yeah, I am tired.” You look at Sy, and hating yourself you softly add, “I was going to take a shower, do you want one too?”

Sy begins to smirk, and you turn away before he can reply, climbing the stairs to the bedrooms. You hear his footsteps follow yours, the wooden steps creak below the carpet. You go straight to the closet and grab Sy some underwear and a pair of shorts that he had left behind. When you come out Sy already had his shirt off and is undoing his jeans. Fuck, he has an amazing body, so solid, so robust, and yet despite his hardness, you remember how comforting it was to be skin to skin with him. It takes everything you have not to falter in your steps as you approach him.

“Here,” you say, thrusting the clothes into his hands. He looks confused as he takes them and begins to speak. You talk over him. “The spare towels are still under the sink in the boy’s bathroom. They should have soap in their shower, but if not, there should be some bars with the towels and there’s spare toothbrushes in the draw.” You turn away, going to your en suite and locking the door, ignoring his protests.

You know it was a bitchy move, probably even cruel, but you had to make it clear to him that you meant what you said and a few whispered words and well placed kisses were not going to get you to fuck him. You were not going to let him manipulate you into it.

While you shower you try to get your thoughts in order but it’s difficult. You keep going back to the last time you were in bed with Sy. The night before he left for deployment was always awful, but that night had been worse than usual. However, it was also the night you had told him there was still a chance for the two of you. Strangely, it wasn’t him fucking you that had pissed you off that night, in fact you had gone to see him for that exact purpose, it had been the intimate way he held you that upset you. Tonight though, it is the opposite. Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on Sy when you haven’t exactly been sending him consistent messages.

In your haste to get into the shower, you realise you forgot to bring your own clothes into the bathroom. You curse and dry off before wrapping the towel around yourself, thanking God you buy bath sheets.

When you open the door, you freeze as your eyes lock with Sy’s across the room. Completely naked, Sy stands tall as he rubs a towel over his head, as if for one moment you believe he needs to dry his buzzcut hair. You try and maintain focus on his face, but you’re only human and your gaze drops to his cock. Although it is nearly soft, it’s still impressive and before you can stop yourself you bite your lip.

“You keep starin’ at me like that Sugar, and you’re gonna make me blush,” Sy says.

That smug bastard.

Embarrassed and shaken you go to your closet and dress for bed in an oversized t-shirt and soft cotton pants. Sy is already in bed when you come out, sheet barely covering his hips, his arms are bent behind his head, and you wonder if he is as relaxed and confident as he appears to be or if it’s all for show. He had turned off all the lights, except the lamp by his bedside. You feel Sy’s eyes on you as you make your final preparations for bed, slapping on your moisturiser and fixing your hair. After returning your towel to the bathroom you can’t avoid it any longer, so you climb into bed.

Sy is on you immediately. Your head isn’t even on the pillow, and he has his arms around you, humming contentedly as he pulls your body towards his.

“Sy,” you complain. “Let me at least lay down first.”

“You’re taking too long,” Sy grumbles. It strikes you how familiar this conversation is, having had the same faux argument since you first got married. Sy releases his hold on you, and you turn your body to face his, automatically lifting your leg to rest on his hip. But something is wrong, and as Sy draws you close again you realise he isn’t wearing the underwear you gave him.

“Jesus, Sy,” you say, a little annoyed. “I gave you clothes for a reason.”

Grinning, Sy grips your raised knee tightly before running his hand firmly down your thigh. He hums obscenely and says, “I know, but its more comfortable this way.”

“For you maybe,” you mutter under your breath.

Sy catches it and sighs. He makes you look at him. “Do ya really want me to put clothes on?”

You shrug. “No, but…”

Bringing his face close to yours Sy’s mood seems to change. “I know, I’m goin’ too fast.” You nod and Sy smiles warmly at you. “I just miss this is all, Sugar.”

You know what he means, he isn’t only talking about sex, he’s talking about those other moments, those intimate, contented moments, like getting dressed for bed together, watching you put on your cream, or brushing your teeth.

Before you can stop yourself, you say, “I miss it too, Sy.”

Sy doesn’t react for a few seconds. He is still smiling, but you see the wheels turning in his head. Abruptly, he throws his arm out and twists his upper body until his long fingers can turn off the lamp. Although you are plunged into darkness, the lights from the street are just enough for you to see the vague outline of his face. He guides your head to his chest, and you lay an arm over him as he kisses your hair and tucks your head under his chin.

“Go on and sleep, Sugar,” Sy says.

You can’t remember how many times you had fallen asleep like this. There was something about this position that seems to make both of you sleep better and tonight was no exception. With your cheek pressing against his chest and his coarse curls tickling at your nose, your mind clears as you listen to Sy’s breathing become regular and soon your eyelids begin to fall.

“Goodnight Sy,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, Sugar.”

It’s still dark when you wake up and you need to pee. You’re still in the same position you fell asleep in, so it was going to require some work to get free of Sy’s hold without waking him. You lift his arm off you, it’s heavy but you manage to roll out from beneath it and tip toe to the bathroom.

When you finish up you sneak back to bed and as you’re about to lift the blanket, it’s tossed back, and you hear Sy grunt. You sigh and get back in bed, resuming your position.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say softly as Sy throws the blankets back over you.

“’S’ok,” Sy mutters. He sounds still half asleep, his voice is hoarse and slow. He hums as he brings you close, his hand grips your ass and his fingers dig into your flesh. You feel him semi hard against your leg and you freeze as Sy groans and subtly rolls his hips, rubbing himself against your thigh. You forgot he did that sometimes, grope at you or hump you while mostly asleep.

“Sy,” you say.

He stops moving. “Yeah,” he says, his voice sounding clearer, and you know by the tone he is awake now.

“Nothing, Bubs. Go back to sleep.”

“You, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say.

Sy puts his hand under your chin and makes you look at him. You can barely make out his features, but he has always been able to see in the dark better than you. He looks at you for a long time before finally speaking.

“You know I love you, right?” Sy’s words surprise you. Not because he loves you, you know that, you just don’t expect him to tell you at four in the morning. “I know I don’t tell you enough, but I do.”

Gradually your eyes get used to the dark and you start to be able to see Sy more clearly. His brows are drawn low, his features are intense and serious.

“I know, Sy.” You smile at him, and he seems to relax. You hold the back of his neck and bring his mouth to yours. You kiss him, lovingly and languidly. Sy tightens his arms around you and your chest presses against his as he returns your kiss. You pull back, but Sy doesn’t loosen his hold, and you feel him growing harder against your leg. Both of you are panting and you feel an insistent ache between your legs. It’s been a long time since you had felt a desire this strong.

Sy’s kisses move down your neck, his mouth scorching on your touch starved skin. Raising his leg between yours, his thigh presses against your core and your hips move instinctively, the friction only vaguely easing your need.

“Sy,” you moan.

“Yeah?” Sy starts to nibble at your ear, his voice rumbles lowly. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you, Sy,” you tell him.

“Fuck, Baby,” Sy growls, pushing you onto your back. His mouth is on yours again as he knees your legs apart. You moan into his mouth as he presses himself against your still clothed centre. His cock feels iron hard as he begins to rut, and you can’t stop yourself from opening your legs wider, wrapping them around his waist. “I need you too. So fuckin’ bad.”

Sy’s hand slides under your shirt, and you suck in a breath, pulling away from his mouth as his roughened hand squeezes at your breast. “Take my shirt off,” you say, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin on yours.

You giggle as Sy yanks the shirt over your head and throws it across the room. His mouth immediately finds your breasts, kissing and sucking at them, his beard rough and teasing on your sensitive skin. His tongue swirls over your nipple before he wraps his lips around it, suckling hard then he repeats the action on the other side. You run your fingers over his short hair, as you moan and murmur his name.

Biting your lip, you watch Sy begin to lay a trail of wet kisses down your stomach. His eyes almost sparkle as they catch the light in the dark room. Grinning, he dips his tongue into your belly button. You laugh and roll to the side as Sy grabs your hips, pushing them into the mattress.

“Why do you always do that?” you ask.

“Cause I love makin’ you squirm, Sugar,” Sy says. He lays over you, supporting his weight with his elbows on either side of your head. Using his hands, he brushes any errant hairs off your face. You place your fingertips on his shoulders and let them slide down his arms, barely grazing his skin. You feel him tense his muscles and you smile as he shivers and groans. “Ok, fuck, I guess you like makin’ me squirm too.”

You laugh softly and Sy lowers his head resting it against your forehead. Your fingertips trace down the curve of his spine and you hear his breathing get harder. “Nobody’s ever touched me like you do, Sugar.”

“Who knew you were such a big softy?” you ask, teasingly, not expecting an answer.

“You did,” Sy says seriously.

You don’t know how to respond, but that doesn’t seem to matter because Sy kisses you with a gently probing tongue. You kiss him back, and for a while its tender, loving, but soon you want more and from the way his teeth start to scrape at your lips Sy wants more too. You can’t keep still and begin to move beneath him, your body searching for a way to ease the strong need between your legs. Sy moves with you, then stops, holding your hip still with a firm hand.

“Stop, Baby,” he whispers. “I want you too much. I can’t… It’s too much.”

At first you’re confused, not understanding why Sy stopped you. Then you realise what he’s trying to tell you. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“You sure? I thought you wanted to take it slow.”

“I’m sure,” and you are. You want him now as much as you ever wanted him, not just because it has been so long, but because you want him in your life again. You want to wake up with him each day, you want eat breakfast with him, you want to watch movies with the boys, all four of your snuggling on the lounge. You want to be a family again.

Sy growls as he claims your mouth with an eager bruising kiss. His hands reach between you, impatiently pushing your pants down your thighs, bending your knee, and pulling them off one leg. He doesn’t bother with the other leg, his mind seems to be on one thing as his fingers slip over your slit. His touch is rough, dominant, urgent, and you both moan as he feels how wet you are.

“Fuck, woman,” Sy grunts, his voice is so harsh you clench. God, you love it when he talks to you like that. He removes his hand, and you feel the silky skin of his cock slide over your folds. You’re both panting hard, and your centre throbs with anticipation. Sy buries his head into your neck and cradles the back of your head. You wrap your arms around his chest, holding your bodies close as you feel him press slowly against your core.

“Tell me you still want me,” Sy demands in your ear. “Tell me you want me to fill you up. Tell me you want me to make you cum. Tell me you want me to cum inside you. Tell me you’re still mine.”

His words rip through you, and the emptiness between your legs becomes unbearable. “I want you Sy,” you tell him honestly. “Fuck, Sy. I never stopped.”

You gasp and Sy swears as he fills you, stretching you to accommodate his size. The pressure feels like bliss, and you hold him tighter, you never want to let him go. How could you forget how good this feels? How intimate? How loved you feel?

Despite slowly pumping into you, Sy isn’t gentle, each stroke is firm and deep. You hear his laboured breaths, his low husky groans, and his muttered curses. His kisses on your neck are tender, even when he scrapes his teeth over your jaw. You move beneath him, raising your hips to meet his thrusts, you murmur his name, your nails dig into his back as you claw at him, wanting him closer, always closer.

“I have to taste you, baby,” Sy grunts, pulling out of you. You object, telling him you want him inside you, and you try and bring him back to you. But Sy is determined, and your protests die on your lips as he doesn’t fuck around, replacing his cock quickly with his tongue.

You cry out his name as he pushes your thighs apart, almost to the point of pain. Sy growls as he licks and sucks on your lips and folds. Any tenderness he had shown you was gone, his tenuous control seems to have snapped as his soft lips, rough tongue and coarse beard lays claim to your delicate flesh.

“You taste so fucking good,” Sy snarls, his feral voice makes your hands stratch at the sheets. Then his mouth is on your clit, and his animalistic mood infects you too as you take hold of the back of his head, and grind against his tongue. With your other hand you reach for his, and Sy takes it, lacing your fingers together.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel your peak arrive. It hits you like lightning, and you cry out as pleasure so good it’s almost agonising ripples over your body. Sy stubbornly stays on you while you ride your release, and you have to push him away firmly when you become too sensitive.

Sy rolls you onto your stomach and slides his arm under your waist and lifts, bringing you onto your knees, pushing your head down on the mattress. He pierces into your core again, rough, and urgent, he pumps into you with a ferocity that excites you. Unable to stay on your knees, his brutal thrusts push you onto the bed and Sy follows, covering your body with his. You feel his unyielding mouth on your neck, hear his lustful groans, and the lewd slap of your bodies as they crash together.

You forgot how strong Sy is, how punishing he could be, how good he feels as he fills you, each drive hurried and violent. He bites recklessly into your shoulder as his rhythm grows erratic. His hand plunges into your hair, turning your face to his. You think he’s going to say something, but he hesitates, instead he crushes your mouth with his, his lips forcing your mouth open as his tongue invades, seeking yours.

Suddenly he throws back his head with a roar, and you feel him swell inside you as he releases his seed deep with you. You feel each jet he expels as his cock thickens inside your sensitive walls, stretching you further and you cry out with each ejected load.

Sy stays on you as you both recover, and though he is heavy, you don’t want him to move. You close your eyes, savouring the moment, enjoying Sy’s warmth.

You feel Sy’s hands start to roam, following the curves and lines of your body. It feels nice, soothing, and familiar. Sometimes he touches you more after sex than he does during the act, especially if he was particularly rough, as if once his hunger is sated, he can actually enjoy touching you. So many nights you had fallen asleep like this, his gentle caress lulling you into slumber. Soon his mouth joins his hands, his silky lips and velvety tongue tenderly brush over your neck and back.

“You ok, baby?” Sy asks, his voice is still ragged and you wonder if he was finished with you for the night.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Just a little tired.”

“That’s ok, Sugar. Lay there and let your ol’ man have his way with you.” Sy’s hand slides over your ass, then between your legs and he pinches lightly at your clit, eliciting a moan as you bury your head into the pillow and raise your hips. “I didn’t think I’d ever be with you again,” Sy murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You feel his finger as it enters you and he groans as he slips in another. “I can’t stop touching you. You feel so good, baby, so wet and so full of my cum.”

Sy withdraws his fingers, and you whine as you feel empty. “Sy,” you whimper. “Don’t stop.”

“Open up,” Sy gently orders. You feel his wet fingers on your lips as you part them. “Can you taste us, baby? Is it good?”

Opening your mouth wider you take his fingers inside you. Wrapping your tongue around them, you nod as you lap at him, licking him clean.

Sy kisses your cheek and neck as he takes his fingers away. “Good girl,” he drawls, and you shiver, it’s been so long since he’s called you that. He slides both his arms around you, one hand grips your neck, the other snakes between your legs. His fingers find your clit and they dance over you as you start to tremble underneath him. Sy’s touch is demanding, dominant, and possessive as he squeezes at your neck and holds you down.

Sy’s lips press hard against your ear, and through gritted teeth Sy’s raspy voice coaxes you along with his touch. “Be a good girl and cum for me, give it to me. This one’s all mine, Baby.” He knows when you’re close, he can feel you shaking as your muscles clench and your breathing changes. He continues his encouragement, his praise, all the while claiming that you’re his. “Tell me you’re mine, Sugar. I’ve got to know you’re still mine.”

At first you ignored him, you weren’t willing to say it, but soon the words came tumbling out. “Fuck Sy, I’m yours,” you sob and you know it’s true. As soon as you admit it you feel relief, you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. “I love you.”

With a rough growl, Sy’s mouth covers yours, stifling the cry from deep within you as your climax rushes through you and you fall apart in his arms. Sy lets you go and lays on his side next to you, his fingers brushing your hair off your face. You open your eyes and look at him, finding his eyes in dim room.

“Come ‘ere,” Sy says. Lethargic and sore, you shift your body closer. He draws you under his arm and you rest your head on his shoulder, lifting your leg to his hip.

Neither of you speak, there isn’t much more to say. You still love him, still want him in your life and now that you have admitted it to yourself and Sy, you could both move on from this ugly time and be a family again. The thought is comforting and once again, the rocking of Sy’s chest against your cheek lulls you to sleep.

You woke up just in time to see Sy leave the bedroom. He was completely dressed, shoes on and everything, and it takes you a couple of seconds to register what you saw. You barely hear him go down the stairs, and you think he must be trying not to wake you. Confused, you look at your phone and check the time. Where is he going at seven twenty-five am?

When you realise what he’s doing you quickly grab your robe and put it on as you run down the stairs. “Sy,” you call out. “Hey Sy, wait.”

You catch Sy as he’s about to open the front door. He turns when he hears you, a small smile on his lips as he meets you half way. He puts an arm around your waist and uses his hand to lift your chin, giving you a light kiss.

“Mornin’ Sugar. I thought I’d let ya sleep since I kept you up half the night.”

“Half the night? Yeah, you wish it was half the night.” You smirk and raise an eyebrow.

“Gimmie a break, it’s been over a year,” Sy says roughly, but you can see him trying to suppress a grin. “Next time you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“Promise?” you ask cheekily.

Sy growls and puts his hand around your neck. “Fuck, Baby, you just try and stop me.” He kisses you possessively, his tongue filling your mouth immediately, taking full control. When he pulls away, you’re a little dazed and breathless. Sy hums as he looks at you, then gives you one last kiss before letting you go. “I’ll call you tonight, we can work out when we can do this again.”

“You’re leaving?” you ask. “Why?”

Sy brings his brows down low and says, “You told me I had to go by seven thirty.”

You swallow hard. “Do you want to go home?”

“That place ain’t my home, Sugar,” Sy says, firmly. “And no, I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t Sy.” You close the distance between you and put your arms around him. “Come home.”

Sy doesn’t say anything, he clenches his jaw and looks away. You give him a few moments, but the longer he doesn’t speak, the more worried you become. Eventually he looks back at you, his expression unreadable. “You want me to move back in?”

“Yeah,” you say. “We’ve been apart long enough.”

Sy inhales deeply, letting his breath out in a long sigh. “We have, haven’t we.” Then he smirks at you. “The boys will be home at nine, right?”

“Right…” you say cautiously. You don’t like that look in his eyes. He licks his lips crudely and you realise what he’s thinking. You feel heat spread through your body from deep in your gut.

“Then get your ass back up stairs woman. We’ve got an hour and a half and I intend on using every single minute.”

Tag List 1

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @summersong69 @littlefreya @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @myloveforhenrycavill @mary-ann84 @tellingyouastory @beck07990 @zealoushound @sofiebstar @sweetlybigdragonn @bloodyinspiredfuck @marantha @diegos-butt @greensleeves888 @endofalldays01 @justaboringadult @ysmmsy @offroadinjandals @littlewrenofrivia @pussyverson @foxyjwls007 @kebabgirl67

#captain sy x reader #captain syverson x you #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson smut #captain syverson angst #captain sy #captain syverson #captain syverson fic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #dad!syverson #dad!sy #husband!sy #husband!syverson

1K notes · View notes