#sandcastle

[plusie]

🐚 - ocean jellycats !!!

[ooctlt]

what do you all like to do at the beach? sand castles, tan, collect shells? do any of y’all know how to swim?

camilla makes them all wear sunscreen, but dulcinea tends to stay in the shade because she burns the easiest. palamedes gets clipped by crabs from his curiosity. gideon and nona are diggers while palamedes is the only willing castlebuilder

beach part 1 | 2 |

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 1

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

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

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

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

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A message?

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

‘Looked delicious too.’

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

‘Don't mean the toast.’

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

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

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

“How about some tunes?” 

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

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧸

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

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

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

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

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

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

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

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

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

🧸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like sweet stuff."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's nice but--"

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

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

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

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

[aghostsdestiny]

When times are rough, but you're not alone... 🌻

[temiree]

Here's Ryan building a sandcastle, and honestly, he's doing a pretty good job of it!

This was suggested by AnimalKingdom on Patreon last month for my monthly thank you image, and gosh, I still love how this one turned out. X3

[dirbenaffleck]

HENRY CAVILL SANDCASTLE (2017) | Dir. Fernando Coimbra

[oatslemonade]

Siblings, am I right?

The octopus twins rough house and fight. Poor Sugar just wanted to make a sand castle 🏰

[thatmexisaurusrex]

For the @sambuckylibrary's SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024, this is for the prompt "Sandcastle". This is also based on this sandcastle competition in Galveston. Where the sandcastle pic comes from. I imagine this as an Architect Rivals AU where Sam and Bucky have been competing every year they could in this competition against each other ever since they were teens and now they're finally realizing their feelings for one another after three years of no competing and coming back to the competition.

[ephiesoul]

Chibi Murdock Sandcastle 🏖️

[stimciety]

sand_castle_university on tiktok

[blockygraphics]

CATLC065.WMF, modified 5/12/1996, 5:54 PM; clipart included with Calendar Creator 5.0 for Windows 95 (1997).

[augustsprincess]

New stuff up on my etsy available as prints

[oldinterneticons]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 2

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

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

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

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

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: slept like crap last night but we got this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, I… I can imagine.”

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you clasp your hands together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, yeah, sorry, I… it's  a habit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Table, thank you,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pardon?" You croak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, ha, right," you murmur.

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

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

“I try, er…”

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

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

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

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

“Is it good?” He asks.

“Very,” you swallow and cover your mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” You squeak.

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

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

[maggyme13]

Moving above the Underground (10/?)

Ellie just moved into a new flat. Introducing herself to her downstairs neighbor with a cake she did not realize what the future held for her and him. And what had an asshole coworker to do with it?

AN: welcome welcome to a new chapter :P Sorry for the delay. Life is hell atm

Don´t like-> Don´t Read, Minors DNI

Warning:

Wordcount: around 2k

Masterlist

Series-Masterlist

Part 9

Panic it had only a dream that Marco had got her the evening before had her hyperventilate when she woke up in a dark room. No matter that she was sitting on a soft mattress in a warm room.

Her pulse sounded like drums in her ears and tears quickly fell down her face and she curled into herself to seek comfort in her own warmth.

“Ellie?”

Immediately her head jerked towards her husband's voice. There he stood, in the doorway leading to the bathroom, one of the hand towels in his hands and a pair of his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips.

In an instant she once again clutched him, her body wracking with sobs, with her nails digging into his muscled back.

“I am here. You are safe. Shhhhh.”, he hummed, carefully mirroring her actions.

“I- I thought it was just a dre-e-eam . It hurts.”, she sobbed.

“I know. Shhhh, we will leave after breakfast and won´t come back here for a while.”, he promised drawing small circles on her back.

“Can- can´t we just leave?”, she whispered against his naked chest before looking up with pleading eyes.

“I am sorry. But there are things I need to take care of first. Do you want or need my help getting ready?”

“I don´t think so. Will you wait for me?”

“Of course. I will sit right there and will not move until you are back in here. Okay?-Good.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Ellie had felt uncomfortable in her own clothing, no matter what she chose it felt wrong against her skin, caging even, so her husband had given her a shirt, pullover, and pair of sweat shorts, to wear. To hide in. With the hood pulled over her head hiding her face Ellie walked alongside her husband, pressed against his side.

“I´ll get us some food. Alejandro will stay with you.”, he stated once they had entered the dining room, and she knew there was no room for her to decline.

“Okay.”, Ellie whispered and begrudgingly let go of his shirt and sat down at the table where the man in question was already sitting, “Morning.”

“Morning.”, the Latino hummed, though his voice betrayed the apprehension and sadness he felt towards her situation and what he saw.

The usually quirky (while shy) wife of his best friend (he would consider her a friend as well) had her arms curled around her midsection, head hanging low, eyes averted, and dressed in clothes made to swallow her up.

And all he had been able to do was to move hell and earth to reach his friend to tell him what had happened and then wait for him and their Boss to return.

Alejandro had seen the glee the bastard had shining in his eyes whenever he went to torment the young woman and his bloodied knuckles when he returned laughing. But his hands had been bound. The attack had been ordered by the VIP Guest after all. Why? He still had not been able to figure it out.

“Here. Eat as much as you can.”, her husband hummed upon placing a small tablet with some fruits, croissants, yogurt, marmalade, and tea in front of her.

“Thank you.”, she whispered but only used the spoon to move the fruits around in the yogurt.

“Boss is pissed. Never saw him that mad.”, Alejandro addressed his friend, trying to do casual conversation to kill the quiet and failing in the casual part, “Having a fucking traitor in our mists.”

Ellie flinched and whimpered, ready to plead her innocence, that she was no traitor when the tension in the room exploded and everyone fell quiet.

“Captain.”, Mr. Silver greeted from where he stood next to the table, “You will deal with the Mess.”

Ellie whimpered again, believing the boss meant her.

“Sure thing. As soon as I know Ellie is safe back home.”, Sy growled, his barely contained anger and fury bleeding into his words.

“Of course. Thatcher will be kept alive and unharmed until then. Use your work-related credit card to get anything you need. Give us a call when you are ready.”, and with those words Ellie heard the gray-haired man leave.

“Ellie?”, her husband hummed then, gently trying to catch her attention.

“Yes?”, she swallowed the frog in her throat.

“Alejandro will be staying with us in the guestroom.”

“Don´t worry. You won´t even know I am there.”, the man in question smiled.

“Why?”

“I don´t want you to be alone when I have to leave to take care of things.”

“Okay.”, Ellie sighed, honestly she did not care much as long as she got to leave the blasted villa, “When can we leave?”

“As soon as you are finished eating.”

“I am.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Alejandro had followed their car with his own and Ellie was glad about it.

“I had one of the Maids come by, change all sheets, get clean towels, and do a quick clean.”, Sy spoke upon noticing her stare at their bed upon stepping into their bedroom.

“Okay.”

“If you want to stay in bed and do nothing no one will think bad of you. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. Painkillers and salve for the bruises are on the sideboard over there. You can take six of the pills per 24 hours with your size and weight. Should you need more you may add 1, but then you have to also take those small blue pills as well. Don´t take them on an empty stomach, please, or you might get nauseous.”, he states, his eyes boring into hers and his large hands gently cradling her face between them before placing a few soft kisses on her lips.

“What, what do you want to eat?”, she whispered, they were back home and there was not a cook that would take care of them.

“I don´t care. We can order something later.”, he hummed, “I´ll be back before nightfall. Alejandro will be in the guest or living room if you need something. Anything.”

“Okay.”, she answered again in a whisper.

“Good. I will talk with him for a moment and then leave you guys to it.”, Sy hummed before placing one last kiss on her lips and going back to his friend. The only thing she was able to hear was the deep rumble of their voices before the soft click of the front door closing.

When Ellie entered Alejandro was looking through the empty cupboards.

“There should be something in the Pantry.”, she announced her arrival.

“Yeah, Sy mentioned that, too. Also said I should take you shopping for anything you need. Ready when you are. Oooor I call a delivery service and we chill here.”, he added when his eyes fell on her worried face.

“Yes, please. I – I don´t look and feel like going out.”

“Understandable.”, he hummed, “What do you want me to order?”

“Where do you want to order?”

“Your choice. They work for me so they go wherever I tell them to. And if I send them to the other side of the Country to get fresh Mango.”

“Oh.”, Ellie frowned, “I´ll make a list then?”

“Go ahead.”

It took the young woman twenty minutes to finish that list and while Alejandro sent out the orders, she sat down on the couch only to get up a minute later.

She then sat down in the armchair.

Again got up a moment later only to sit down at the table for a moment before getting up yet again.

Groaning at her restlessness she went through the pantry and got everything out that could be used for baking or cooking and just started to mix stuff.

The whole time her companion was watching her with a heavy heart, clenching his teeth in anger, and wishing only the worst for the bastard who was being visited by his friend at that moment. The sole fact giving him retrieve at the moment was his knowledge of what his Friend was capable of doing to people who inconvenienced him. He was known, almost famous, for his skills with knives and other toys to get information or send messages to enemies. He had perfected the Art of dancing the blade between being feared and resented for being a monster and being respected and admired for being fair even toward opponents.

The bastard though did not simply inconvenience him, he had dared to hurt his wife. To injure her body and mind. Everybody would soon find out how what kind of demon lay dormant within Alexander ´Captain´ Syverson.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“That´s the delivery! Can you let them in if you feel alright with it? Otherwise, they can wait outside until I am done in here.”, Alejandro called out from the guest bathroom where he had disappeared just a minute earlier to follow nature's call.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob, her fingers trembling ever so slightly before she breathed out through her nose opened the door, and jumped back. It revealed three giants of men, dressed in all black, the sleeves of their shirts rolled up revealing the muscular (and inked) forearms that were securing bags and bags of groceries.

If taking only one trip to get the shopping out of the car was an Olympic sport, she thought, those three would win every metal there was.

“Mrs. Syverson.”. the first one greeted her, “Where would you like us to place these?”

Hearing his voice she realized where she had known him from: all of them were bouncers at ´The Wonderland´, immediately feeling calmer (knowing she was not letting strangers in her little safe space at that moment) she motioned towards the kitchen island.

“Over there please.”

Without speaking any more words the three men began unpacking the groceries on the island only for her to notice two things she did not add: A small bouquet and a pack with four different scented candles.

“Everything to your standard?”

“Y-yes, thank you. Would you like some cookies? They are just done, still hot though.”

“No, thank you, Mrs Syverson. Boss, we will be going to ´The Wonderland´ now and prepare everything for the Event.”

“Go ahead, Thor. You are in charge while I am not there. Keep me updated and feel free to kick people out if they don´t behave.”, Alejandro nodded, “Customers and Staff alike.”

“Got it, Boss. Mrs. Syverson.”, he nodded his farewell, and the three men left.

“Remind me to never send them shopping with my card. They bought the top of the top. Should have added something for me on there, too. Can´t remember putting this much chocolate on the list either.”, the Latino chuckled.

“How does chocolate cheesecake sound?”, Ellie smiled, finally her mind was able to settle on a thought not linked to what had happened to her, “With chocolate caramel sauce.”

“Delicious.”

“When do you think Sy will be back?”, she asked an hour later.

“You need him?”

“No. Just, thinking about what to cook, or when I need to start.”

“I think he wanted to be back at seven. Want some help with prepping? I was told I am rather skilled with knives. Not as good as your Husband, but well, I´ll manage.”, he wiggled his eyebrows and the woman let out a small snicker.

“I´ll let you know when I decide what I will make.”, she answered, the hidden innuendo behind his words not unnoticed.

“My skills are your skills whenever and whatever you need them for.”

It was 7 PM on the spot when the door to the apartment opened and her husband entered. Careful, not wanting to scare her, he opened his arms and hugged her when she accepted. He had showered before returning home and a warm feeling spread through her chest upon relishing the loving and caring embrace.

Ellie did not know what he had done the whole day, however with how angry he had been the hours they had been together before he left, she knew blood most likely had been spilled and was grateful he had cleaned up before coming back. At that moment he was not a (ruthless) enforcer but a caring husband and she was happy to ignore anything else for now. At least until she was healed far enough.

Part 11

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Thank you so much to every single one of my patrons for supporting me throughout the midst of summer, and please welcome my newest patrons: Axle (a new top patron!), Eternity, and PecularGreyRabbit!

Ryan at the beach working on a sandcastle was suggested by AnimalKingdom on Patreon! And yes, that is Nes in the background there. Maybe this is what was canonically going on off-screen when he was posing for that picture?