PAIRING/STARRING: Dad’s best friend!Syverson x fem!reader.
WORD COUNT: 299.
SUMMARY: Damn it if you don’t have a crush on your dad’s best friend!
CONTENT: AGE GAP (legal), casual drinking, flirting, partial nudity, sexual undertones, implied smut after ending.
A/N: The 11th of Jukebox brings us Little Bitty Pretty One – Thurston Harris / “Tell you a story”.
As per usual: please like, comment, and especially reblog – that’s the only way to make sure other people see it too. Here’s my masterlist for the challenge and my general MASTERLIST for more.
Crush
You’re on the back porch, watching your dad and his best friend, Syverson, bicker about how to start the grill. It’s tradition and in a moment your dad will realize there’s not enough coals and he’ll be off to buy more.
That’ll be your chance. You’ve been watching Sy from a distance for ages now. You like what you see.
“Goddamn it! Gonna need more coals!” your dad’s voice rings out. “Be right back!”
As he trudges off, Sy grabs his beer and saunters up onto the porch to lean against the railing.
You’ve made sure to look extra nice today: a flimsy, yellow sundress with butterfly sleeves and a low cut that shows off your cleavage. The way you’re sitting the skirt is riding up, showing off your thighs. And the way he’s looking, you know he likes it.
“He’ll be gone for a while,” you say to break the silence.
“Mhm,” Sy agrees. “Tell you a story...’bout a girl who grew up to be too pretty for her own good. Knew it too.”
You bat your lashes at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He puts the bottle down, then comes to stand before you. His crotch is right at eye level and it’s hard not to stare at the bulge. “Got the head of a dirty old man all twisted.”
You can’t help but clench your thighs. He sees the movement, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
“So what’d he do?” you ask.
Syverson kneels before you, big hands on your knees, pushing them apart. It makes your skirt ride up a bit more, revealing that you’re not wearing any panties. His eyes darken at the sight.
“He showed the girl how much he liked her, making sure she understood it’d have to be a secret.”
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How do you think the following would be as your new trainee at the library?
- Jakey
- Andrew
- Hugh
- Syverson
I absolutely love that you used Ransom's actual first name! Thank you for that chuckle
As for my new trainees...
Jakey is a fast learner with the technical aspects of the job. Heck, he's probably making upgrades to the software that I've been wanting. He's mostly okay with helping patrons but he keeps trying to flirt with the ladies and it doesn't go well.
Andrew would probably also have problems with the customer service side of things. It's not that he prefers reshelving books, he just thinks his opinions are superior to most. He'll keep trying to direct patrons to his preferred genre, to the sources he trusts.
Hugh is sitting in the back offices, doing the bare minimum and complaining about how much work he has to do. I'll be grateful if he's not purposely screwing things up.
Syverson might be the best of the bunch at helping patrons. Sure, he can't always keep his face schooled when a patron asks something really dumb, but he won't comment on it. He's dealt with plenty of stupid in the army.
Between Thor, Syverson, and Lee Bodecker, which would be most likely to treat you to an in-house spa day? Complete with full body massage with a happy ending for you.
-Zombie
I didn't get to the last part... sorry. But this cute little scene came to mind instead. For @thezombieprostitute
Spontaneity
Please reblog and leave feedback. I appreciate those who can share as it helps to keep the community and the energy alive. Love you all <3
The captain stares at the fancy paper bag with its ribbon handles. The cursive logo on the front with the embossed border is well beyond his expertise. Give him a scope and a rifle, or a desert and map, and he won’t hesitate but all this is Latin to him.
He scratches his neck as that tickle returns. That hot itch that followed him around the bath and body store. He was almost too big to get around the tables of bubble bath and candles and the looks from fellow shoppers further added to his elephantine presence.
The employee that helped him approached him as if he must be lost. To be honest, he was. He had a list and that was his mission. It’s easier to think of it like that. He has an objective and he just needs to reach it.
But then there were all the decisions; rose or lavender; chamomile or sandalwood. He did his best; bath salts, bubble bath, shower gel, lotion, candles, several clay masks for variety, exfoliator, and things he couldn’t really figure out.
The bag crinkles around his thick hands. Holding the rose shaped bath bomb, yeah, that name made him a bit jumpy, he examines the sparkling ombre of pink and red. The girl said it’s supposed to dissolve. It smells good. Some of the others on the shelf looked like cookies and good enough to eat… which he almost did. Oops.
He checks his watch. He needs to get his shit together. He lays out his wares as best as he can. He lines the shelf with the bottles, the ‘bombs’, and all the other accoutrements. He puts the candles around the edge of the tub, the aromas already mingling in the air. He sneezes and bumps his head on the wall behind the faucet. Ugh.
He pulls the stopper into place then turns the handle. He tests the water with his hand only to splash himself in the face and down the chest. He growls. He’s not the bath sort. A quick shower does the job for him. There were occasions when a cold splash was a luxury.
He lets the tub fill and stands straight. The bath mat slips and he wobbles, falling halfway, catching himself on the sink. He got water on the floor. Damnit. He fishes in his pocket for his lighter.
He bends over the tub again to light the wicks. As he attempts to catch all the third on the big round candle with Bliss on the label, he sticks his knuckle into the flame of another. He retracts and the candle shifts off the edge and cracks before rolling into the water. God!
He reaches down to retrieve it and pours out the water, soiling the clear pool in the tub. He slams the candle down and it cracks even more. A shard catches in his palm as he lets it go and he snarls. He shakes his hand then smacks the handle to shut off the water. He plunges his reach into the tub and flips the stopper open.
His blood curls in the water and he retracts. He cradles his large hand as he stands and spins. The matter dislodges further and he slips, his shoulder hitting the sink and bouncing him away onto his ass. He barely keeps his head from hitting the toilet.
He hollers in frustration and examines the tiny pieces of glass embedded in his roughened palm. He puffs out in defeat as his efforts to pluck them free only force them deeper. The door opens suddenly and he looks up in shame and shock.
He sits on the floor, the scrunched bath mat under his feet, his hand dripping, and the drain loudly gurgling down the water. He must look ridiculous. She looks at him and tilts her head.
“What a mess,” she swipes up a hand towel and goes to him, kneeling to cradle his hand. She examines the sparkling glass and tuts. She reaches for the drawer behind him and slides it open, easily picking out a tweezer without looking.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he grumbles.
She grins as she picks out the glass, mopping his blood between extractions. “It smells nice in here.”
“Don’t think it’s me.” He shakes his head.
She peeks up at him then around the room. Her eyes glitter as they return to his. “Well, we can fix that.” She presses the hand towel to his hand. “I can’t enjoy all this alone.”
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You buy Sy a new watch; it's so much nicer than those utility ones he gets to wear at work. But you notice a few days later he's avoiding you. It takes some time to get him to confess, that despite his care, his thick wrist broke the clasp of the watch. You can decide how he makes it up to you....
"Sy, I'm not upset with you about the watch. I'm upset that you didn't tell me."
"I'm really sorry, Sugar. I was just so ashamed o' myself."
"Well, the good news is that it's just the clasp that's broken, not the mechanism. I can fix that easy enough."
"Y' are a skilled woman," he smiles, pride tinging his voice. "Especially with them pretty hands o' yers."
"You've got some pretty skilled hands, too," you wink at him. "Pretty sure they're going to help make for a really good apology to me."
"Yes, ma'am," Sy smiles, relief written all over his face.
