#check ins with sarah

[maybege]

Hi, May! How are you?

it's been a weird couple days (as you know cause i keep texting you 😅). everything still feels really off and my emotions are going in circles (thank fuck i'm seeing my therapist tomorrow).

BUT either way, I've promised you that I'd FINALLY read roommate!Paz and tell you my thoughts!! idk what it is about tonight, but i finally had the energy to fully appreciate it and be ready to do this (maybe I also just needed the comfort of your writing and your paz).

Soooo, let's start? I’m going to try and not just quote every single line back at you but oh my god please know that I love everything about this. I still don’t quite know how one is actually supposed to react to stories, so I hope you‘ll enjoy my rambling about how your words have made me feel 😅

First of all, i hope you know that roommate!Paz is my ABSOLUTE WEAKNESS!! that man is so fine 🥰🫠(and honestly,, can do whatever he wants to me..)

"He was so careful, so gentle and made sure you felt safe, happy and satisfied before he tried new things. Even then, said new things were introduced slowly and with care. And every time he did you felt like you were falling in lust a little bit more." this? the dream. Also "in LUST"??? girl please stop denying it, you’re like fully in LOVE!!!

also.... "something very peaceful about not having to worry about how someone fucks you because you know they do it right" ..... do you just have a secret source of knowledge about my anxiety issues??? cause that feels a little to relatable as a concept,, like straight up taken from my brain when i try to explain why i'm drawn to these types of stories 😂🙈

"the man of your dreams (and also your heart but it would take time for you to admit that out loud) ".. THANK YOU, this is what ive been thinking. can't wait for them both to realise that they are absolutely in love with one another.

also, this: "You wanted to spend as little time as possible on chores and as much time as possible … together." very relatable. the „… together“ made me giggle 🙈

.. also sidenote, I really love the way you center the trust between them in the beginning of the story (and througout, really). It really is such a vital part of their dynamic and to actually feel that is really nice. and i also just really love the intimacy between the two of them - like the scene of him coming home and caring about how her day went.

“Paz,” you giggled, your hands buried in the soft hairs at the back of his neck, “What are you doing?” ... dont mind me just giggling and grinning over here...

“I’m eating you out, what does it look like?” he grinned, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip AND THEN “Patience, sweetheart,” he teased you, looking up from where his fingers were circling your nipples over the fabric of your shirt. “Let me play with you.?????? hot. 10/10. actually cant function anymore, this is all I'll think about now 🫠

“You're so good for me,” he murmured against your sternum, “Such a pretty little slut just for me, aren’t you?” ... LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ANYTHING RIGHT NOW????? i think i dont even really like the idea of men calling me a slut, but i think he might be an expection.....

… also, please know that this is how I've reacted to every line of paz speaking 🙈🥰🫠10/10.

Before you could answer (or, let's be real, beg) ... LISTEN, that would be true but you didnt have to call me out like that 😂😭

“I know,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your inner thigh before slipping your legs off his shoulders, “Got you all come drunk already, huh?”.. one thing that man will always be is cocky.... and honestly? fair, he's allowed to be. how could he not be when he’s doing everything so right?

“Not today, love,” he murmured, the nickname sending a thrill through you and also Kissing Paz was everything you had ever fantasised it to be and more. JUST CONFESS ALREADYYYY 😭🫶🏼

“I thought this could be your … the necklace, you know?” [...] Paz seemed to know what you were thinking because he suddenly became bashful. He rubbed the back of his neck, the free hand still on your thigh, “You can – you can choose something else, if you like, of course. But I saw it in the mall at lunch and I just … knew.” stop I'm gonny cry

“And remember –“ he started. “I can always take it off whenever I want to,” you finished… i really love this. I think I've told you this before, but i really like how you always manage to hit home on the consent and trust between pairings in your stories.

You thrived in coming home and being dragged into his bed or him coming home and coming straight to you. That must be your favourite part, really. Him coming home and using you any which way he liked. Both of you ending up on the couch afterwards, talking about how your respective days had been. ... did you just invade my daydreams??? but seriously, again, i love love love reading about the intimate aspects - even without smut - in your stories. they might not confess how they're fully feeling (yet), but they don't really need to in order for me to feel the emotions between them. this just makes my heart flutter and yearn 🤍🥺

A bit of topic, but this: "It had been raining and you had used your day off to curl up on the couch and read one of the books on your tbr list." just got me really excited for finishing my master's degree next summer. I can't wait to read an actual book and enjoy it without any stress that I'm technically procrastinating. like, im so excited to not be too exhausted for my tbr list.

back on topic... Paz was usually home by now and even though you were not his girlfriend (which was totally absolutely perfectly fine with you, of course)… GIRL, CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE JUST SAY YOUR UNSPOKEN FEELINGS OUT LOUD AND MAKE IT OFFICIAL

paz coming home and needing stress relief? 10/10. also, i can't fully say why, but the way you describe paz? such a hot, pretty man.

“Stars, that’s just what I needed,” he sighed, his hand cupping your cheek, “that pretty little mouth on my cock. You’re doing so well for me, aren’t you?” AND ALSO “I know I’m very big, sweetheart,” Paz cooed, leaning forward. His hand wandered to the back of your head and you felt surrounded by him in the best way, “Can you try to take me a little deeper? Can I try to fuck your mouth?” may, how am i supposed to go to bed after this???? there's no way my brain will actually turn off, I'll just be mentally stuck right here. like,, this entire smut scene???? i fear i will not recover from this.

LIKE.. "“One day I'm gonna see how deep I can go,” he groaned as you choked on him, “Have your head hanging off the edge of my bed, see if we can make that pretty throat bulge, make that choker stretch, hm?” HUH, officially deceased. Every line I keep thinking „okay that’s it. NOTHING can make me react more than this“ and then I keep getting hit with the next words???

and then,, “Ordering pizza and a movie? We can cuddle and if you want to we can try that thing you’ve been pretending to google secretly?” MAY, i can't 🫠🫠🫠 i will be thinking about this story for forever. somebody please tell me where i find him in real life.

and the ending being all soft and fluffy? i dont know what else to say besides this man (and story) has my heart 🤍

I could keep going cause I just love your writing so much, but this turned out quite long already. So in short: honestly? we both know that i always love your writing but this made me all smiley and giggly and that really is something i needed right now 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 i don't even know how to put it in words how much i love every part of this!!

MY DARLING SARAH!!!

I am doing somewhat okay! I got to see Adele this weekend which was one of the most surreal experiences ever but with the heatwave this week I’m simply just lying on the couch, hoping that I’ll melt into a puddle 🫠

And your lovely lovely comment is not helping because that had melted my heart 🥹😭 I’m so so happy you liked it! Roommate!Paz really is so special and so fun to write 🥹

[wildemaven]

life and loss | joel miller

pairing: dave york x f!reader / joel miller x f!reader word count: 1k content warnings: 18+ blog; death, grief/loss, major character death (no description of said death), AU and crossover universes, kind of fluffy, navigating loss, reader is non descriptive/blank slate. notes: this randomly came to me yesterday on my walk. It was meant to be just a moodboard and a small blurb to go along with it… and then this happened. Oops! Tried to pack a lot into a small thing so hopefully it makes sense.

Momentos of him, your late husband, have remained tucked away for the last year following his unexpected death. As you settle into your new widowed life and new home over a thousand miles away from the life you created with Dave, all the beautiful memories reside in cardboard boxes out of sight. 

Word travels quickly through the small neighborhood about your arrival and marital status— or lack thereof. Welcoming introductions turn into unannounced check-ins and flowers. Uncomfortable small talk on your front porch is sprinkled throughout the following weeks, a hand on your shoulder accentuates their let us know if you need anything. Sympathetic casseroles finally dwindle allowing you to finally ease into this new season of your life. 

The hammock left by the previous owners becomes your sanctuary most evenings. Searching for the brightest star in the night’s sky, then asking Dave how he’s doing before reading aloud to him the words from your latest book. 

It's days later when you’ve read the final word that a small voice from over the fence manifests as a quirky teenage girl sitting at a table you’ve set up on your back patio. She has a million and one questions about the book and is filled with theories about what happens beyond its ending. The side gate is never regularly latched closed now, eagerly awaiting Ellie’s return. She navigates most of your late night conversations that follow, including personal stories and the history of her life. My grump of an old man is in construction. He’s single by the way— not by choice, but life happens. 

His voice is calloused the first time he makes his presence known to you. Goddamn it, Ellie! I told you to leave her alone! They exchange brittle words back and forth through the shared barrier, before you insist he join the two of you. The crunch of his boots on the ground stall when he towers over where you’re still seated. His hand engulfing yours, warm and gentle as he tries to determine where his gaze should fall— you, the ground, the smirking teenager sitting across from you. Joel. Joel Miller. Uh, Ellie n’ I live next door. Not sure how long she’s been botherin’ you, but I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.

It’s weeks later when you run into Joel at the mailboxes. The clanking of keys and squeaky hinges fill the space between you before you’re both retreating back to your respective pathways. Your hands fidget and twist the bills and letters from your parents when you bravely initiate a conversation before he’s able to reach his front door. She’s the first person since moving here who wanted to talk to me about something other than the death of my husband. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have with her in a long time. She’s welcome over here anytime. 

He reeks of nervousness as he stands on your doorstep the following evening. The ambered hue of his eyes absorb the warmth from the front porch light, adding a brightness to them that they seem to be commonly lacking. His words waver a bit as he begins to speak, starting and stopping, scrubbing his hand down his face before he attempts to start again. You offer him nothing but patience, sensing the mournful energy radiating off him— similar to the one you’ve been carrying. My wife and older daughter— they were both in an accident on their way to Sarah’s soccer game. I was pickin’ up Ellie from her counseling group for adopted kids. We were headin’ to the soccer field when I got the call. Some days are harder than others. And everyone wants to help, however that may be— lots of food as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t ever really get easier, but you learn to live with grief. Anyways, if you ever need anything or just want to talk— you know where I live.  

He accepts your impulsive invitation to join you for dinner, offering him the open seat across from you in the same spot as your timid first meeting. The crickets orchestrate the evening ambience as you share stories you’d tucked away, too painful to revisit until now. You find you laugh just as much, if not more, with Joel. Even among the tears shed, the conversation is filled with a hope and optimism that you longed for. 

You still feel his wholesome embrace long after you’ve called it a night to seek out much needed sleep. But much like the nights that ensued after Dave’s death, loneliness and the weight of your grief rear its head. 

The black ink glides over the surface of the paper. Line after line formulated a year’s worth of unsaid words that had been bottled up and blockaded by the rigid walls you’d built around them. Joel was right about the therapeutic effect of getting rid of the burdensome thoughts that come with loss, finding it��s hard to stop now that you’ve started. 

You convey the love that you still carry for Dave, something you’ll never willfully ignore or regret. It feels wrong but you touch on the hatred you feel towards his death; you hate him for leaving you, hate that you miss him, hate that some nights you forget the small details that you cherished about him. You tell him about Joel and the kindness he’s afforded you in a short time of knowing him and that there’s life beyond losing the love of your life. To look for the light even when shrouded by darkness. 

Pictures and trinkets find their way out of the cardboard confines Joel helped pull out from the guest room closet. The bare walls now filled with familiar faces and shelves adorn with colorful memories that you tried so hard to keep hidden. 

Joel and Ellie being a constant presence in your life allows you to see that life can surprise you when you least expect it and there’s room for new love. 

[ahhnini]

wheel of fortune - frat!rafe x tarot!reader

reader meets the camerons on a family vacation

warnings - cliches, inspired by toz, slow burn, fluff

a/n - i wrote this while delirious off my nausea meds, i fear this is a full look into my delusions

w.c - 2.2k

frat!rafe x tarot!reader masterlist

“you are not bringing that damn cat with us to the trip,” rafe huffs as he shoves his winter clothes in his suitcase. you pout, petting merlin, who was talking a nap on your bed, tiny body curled up. “there’s no one to look after him rafe,” your voice was soft, not wanting to wake him up. “i’ll get a petsitter,” he turns around, his volume now matching yours, “look, I know you wanna see him 24/7, but we’re gonna be traveling. we’re gonna go on a plane, and we’re gonna stay someplace freezing cold. I just don’t want him to be stressed,” he gently strokes the kitten’s black fur.

you nod your head, agreeing with his reasoning, “yeah, that’s fair. this petsitter better be the best one in town, and they better send us photos of merlin every hour,” he chuckles, taking both of your hands into his, “he is, don’t worry. he’s a retired vet, so he knows what he’s doing.” you smile, wrapping your hands around his, “guess I should get packing, huh?”

you shiver in your fluffy coat as you and rafe exit the airport. rafe is carrying your luggage, his long legs trekking through the inch of snow with ease. you, however, are falling quickly behind, running to catch up to your friend. rafe unlocks the door to the rental car, and you hop in, shaking off the fallen snow off your coat. rafe shortly climbs in, turning the ignition and starting the car.

“thank you for letting me go on vacation with you and your family, rafe.” you smile, looking out the window at the snowfall. he takes a glance at you, then back on the road “of course, i’ve told them about you, and they actually encouraged me to invite you. I should be thankful you even said yes,” you freeze, “you told them about me?” “yeah, oh, I didn’t tell them you do tarot stuff—well I told sarah and wheezie…dad and rose…I don’t know their opinion on that so I didn’t bring it up.” you nod your head, “oh, okay, what’d they say?” “they liked it,” he chuckled, “wanted to know if you do walk-ins” “you were a walk-in, so yeah.” you smile.

“this is the cabin?” you gawk, “this is not a cabin, this is a mansion, rafe.” you pull up to the wooden mansion after thirty minutes, and a stop for hot chocolate. “a cabin is just a house made of wood, right?” he smiles, getting out of the car to grab both luggages. quickly, you double check if your hot chocolate is secured, making your way to the back of the car and helping him. “I got it, y/n, there’s stairs going up, I don’t want you to be winded, just hold onto my cocoa.” “oh, okay. you sure?” he carries the both of your luggages with ease, shutting the trunk.

you see three girls on the couch, two watching television and the other on their phone. the younger girl jumps up, hugging rafe. she awkwardly waves to you, before introducing herself, “i’m wheezie,” before shuffling her way back to the couch and fidgeting on her phone again. “i’ll bring these upstairs, just make yourself at home. don’t worry, they do this all time time when i’m around.” a slight frown brushes your face. they…ignore him when he comes home?

unzipping your coat and putting it on the rack, you hesitate, deciding how you should introduce yourself. you clear your throat, introducing yourself with a warm smile.

all three of the girls look at you, introducing themselves. sarah, rose, wheezie, got it.

“so, you’re rafe’s girlfriend?” sarah asks, and your face is laced with confusion. rafe walks down the stairs, face flushed red. “no, sarah!” he replied with urgency, “I meant girlfriend as in girl friend, not girlfriend,” sarah’s face was riddled with unamusement, “huh, by the way you were talking about her, could’ve sworn she was your girlfriend-girlfriend. but, it’s nice to meet you,” she sticks out her hand and you shake it, politely nodding and smiling.

rose on the other hand, looked you up and down, silently judging you. you became self-conscious, fidgeting around with your fingers. “nice to meet you, y/n” her tone was subtly condescending, still welcoming, but condescending. “rafe, ward’s getting some wood for the fireplace, you two feel free to explore, i’m going up to the room,” she says, walking up the stairs to the bedrooms.

rafe turns around, whispering in your ear, “we’ve had a long trip, wanna go upstairs and take a nap?” you nod, following him to the bedrooms.

“I knew you were rich but, this is just on a whole ‘nother level,” you chuckled, sprawling across the king sized bed. “thank you so much for inviting me again,” you smile. “but, are you sure it would be wise sharing the same room? they already think we’re dating.” he shakes his head, stripping off his shirt and climbing into the bed with you, “it’s alright, they don’t care either way, I think they’re just surprised ‘cus i’ve never brought any of my friends on vacations,” he yawns, turning away from you, “‘m tired.” “oh, yeah. nap. goodnight rafe,” you yawn too, before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

you’re woken by the smell of food coming from the kitchen. rafe is still asleep, his head now facing you. you move his bangs out of his face, before softly speaking, “I think dinner’s ready,” you chuckle. he groans, “give me a second.” “okay, i’m gonna go wash my face and fix my hair.” you crawl out of the comfy bed, going to the restroom, washing your face and re-styling your hair. by the time you’re finished, rafe’s stood up, putting his shirt back on.

the smell of pizza becomes stronger, and so does your hunger. you find to see the rest of the cameron family scattered around the dining room and living room, eating pizza and in their own little world.

you introduce yourself to rafe’s dad, ward, who just shakes your hand firmly. rafe grabs you a slice of pizza and you follow him to the loveseat, sitting down next to him.

“wanna go skiing tomorrow?” rafe asks, leaning his head awkwardly on your shoulder. “with your family?” “nah, we all kind of do our own thing on vacations,” your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, and you reply, “i’ve never been skiing before.” you don’t see it, but you can feel his smug smile forming on his face, “i’ll teach you. we’ll go on the easy slopes. but we gotta go bright and early to beat the crowds. it gets packed, especially on the baby slopes—where you’ll be going on.” you lightly shove his head away from your shoulder teasingly, standing up to throw your plate away.

as promised, rafe wakes you up bright and early to hit the slopes. while on the way to the rental center, you dig in your tote bag to pull out one of your seasonal decks. rafe looks over, softly chucking, “those cards are gonna fly out. literally.” you shuffle the cards over your hands, concentrating, “i’m using a different method to shuffle this time, rafe. speaking of which, I just pulled out your daily card.” “oh yeah? what is it?” “wheel of fortune, upright. change, cycle…inevitable fate,” his eyebrows furrow, and your eyes widen, “the cards are just advising you to take the day as is, nothing to worry about, this is all supposed to happen.” you smile, shuffling for your daily card, “I got…ace of wands! creation, willpower, desire, and inspiration!”

“i’ve always been meaning to ask this, but why do you pull a daily tarot card?” rafe asks he pulls into the rental shop. “like how some people look at their daily horoscope, it’s just to help give some advice for the day ahead.” he hums, parking the car. he turns off the ignition but stays there, looking at you, “so, what’s the difference between an oracle and a tarot deck?” “well, a tarot deck has always remained 78 cards, their meanings remained the same, as well as the spreads. but with oracle, the cards are a lot more…flexible? each deck isn’t the same and they can follow a multitude of themes. in some of my readings, if the tarot cards keep giving me confusing answers, I use my oracle deck to ask for clarification. why do you ask?” “nothin,” he shrugs, “jus’ saw that you put some oracle decks up on your inventory at the shop.” you hum, nodding. you breathe out, seeing your breath, “we should go in before the car frosts over.”

after you got fitted for your snowsuit, you and rafe made your way over to the slopes. there were a couple of people already there, sledding and skiing. you follow rafe to the top of the hill, already being intimidated by the curve. “it’s not that bad,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “listen, I know it’s scary, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way, yeah?” you nod, putting your snow goggles on while rafe bent down and helped you put your skis on your shoes. “how do you walk in these things? I feel like a penguin.” he chuckles. “keep your legs apart, and use the sticks to gain traction. to ‘brake’ when going down, turn to the side, your skis will follow. also, bend your knees. got that?” you nod, nervousness creeping into your body. “you got this, okay? i’ll go first. look at my technique, try to copy.” he goes down the hill with ease, but he’s too quick for you to actually observe anything.

rafe turns around, gesturing for you to follow. you take a deep breath, remember his words and go down. the speed is too fast, wind rushes through your hair. everything is a blur, until you feel a pair of hands grab you, but the force is too much. landing on top of rafe, you open your eyes, and he just blinks at you. “hey, hey. you okay?” you nod, rolling off of him and into the soft snow. he helps you up, and you sigh, “I don’t think i’m cut out for this, rafe.” “y/n, look at me.” he grabs your face, making you make eye contact with him. “it was just your first time, there’ll be more to follow.”

so you try, again. then again. then again. every single time leading you not to a successful brake, but on rafe’s body. you were still on the beginning slopes. for crying out loud you saw a seven year old nail this quicker than you did. rafe decided it was time for a breather, so you two made your way to a nearby cafe for some coffee and pastries.

“i’m not made for this sport,” you chuckle, sipping on your latte. he shakes his head, “no, it’s my fault.” “how is it your fault?” you quip. “i’ve been teaching you wrong. after we eat, we’re heading back out there. think this new method will work.” there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, making you slightly anxious, but intrigued.

“okay, hold onto my hand.” he sticks out his hand, and you hesitantly interlock your fingers with his. he starts going down, and your reflexes kick in, wanting to let go, but he doesn’t let you. his grip tightens, allowing your body to be dragged down the slope with him. you scream, closing your eyes.

all of a sudden, you feel your body turning, coming to a full stop. “you did it!” rafe praises. you blink open your eyes, chest heaving. “I did it!”

he challenged you to a steeper slope, using the same technique. warm hands intertwine with yours while you both make your way down the steeper hills.

after the sun set, you and rafe returned your skiing equipment, grabbing a bite at the nearby diner before heading back to the camerons’ cabin.

“what’s up with you two?” sarah asks the next morning, ice packs scattered on top of both of your bodies in the living room. “skiing,” you both say in unison. “oh. dad got the hot tub working again so you can both go in that.” rafe’s head shoots up, and you let out a light groan before replying to sarah, “I didn’t bring any bathing suits.” you sigh. “it’s okay, y/n, you can borrow mine,” she smiles, “don’t worry, they’re clean and I don’t plan on using the hot tub for the duration of the trip. i’ll bring them downstairs…you look like you’re in a lot of pain.” she winces.

after thirty minutes and a lot of pep talk from sarah, you and rafe practically crawl into the hot tub. it isn’t an attractive sight, but you two were super sore, and needed all the relief you could get.

“I never get this sore from skiing.” rafe groans, water droplets clinging onto his toned body. “how much do you wanna bet this is from all of the times we’ve crashed into one another.” you giggle, letting the jets massage your back. he doesn’t respond, his eyes are closed, head is leaned back and his jaw is a bit slack. you do the same, enjoying the quiet atmosphere with your best friend.

“fifty bucks they’re actually together and hiding it.” wheezie looks outside the window, seeing the two of you together. “deal. i’ll ask y/n tomorrow.” the two sisters hi-five each other, not knowing the windows weren’t sealed all the way, and that you and rafe heard their entire conversation.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter One: A Prelude to the Open Sea

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, adventure, alcohol, injuries, fluff, angst, smut. Reader is a badass. Additional warnings will be posted with each chapter as needed. No use of y/n.

Chapter One: A Prelude to the Open Sea

It was his favorite time of year, yacht season. Austin, Texas would always be home, but there was just something about the sea that called to Joel Miller like a siren, the salty air a balm to his weary soul. It warmed his heart that Sarah took to the sea just as well, tagging along from a young age as he captained charter boats in the Gulf of Mexico or Caribbean Sea for a few months between November and April each year. His brother, too, fell in love with the sea, joining Joel in the charter industry upon his discharge from the Army. While Joel spent years working his way up to Captain, Tommy fell into the safety side of yachting, thriving as a deck hand and eventually falling into the role of Bosun. Tommy preferred the hands-on, leadership with some manual labor style of the role and had no inclination to move up for a while.

Sarah would be joining them for her third season as an official crew member, serving on the interior staff once again, her first time as the Chief Stewardess. Having grown up in the field, she knew the ins and outs of the yachts her dad captained and could likely hold nearly any crew position. Yet, Sarah always preferred the interior staff roles. She loved designing elegant table settings and the creative aspects of event planning, even if the grind of cleaning up after obscenely rich charter guests had its less than stellar moments.

“Ya all packed up, baby girl?” Joel asked as he passed Sarah’s bedroom, hefting his luggage down the stairs. “We gotta head out soon. Tommy’s coming to get us any minute now.”

“I’ll be right there!” Sarah called back, zipping up her carry-on bag. She always overpacked. Never knowing just how the season would go adventure or weather-wise, Sarah wanted to be prepared for anything. Hence, she was checking two large suitcases and taking a carry-on and large purse on the plane with her.

“For fuck’s sake, kiddo. Are ya moving out or somethin’?” Joel griped as he heaved one of the suitcases and the carry-on down the stairs. “We can do laundry on the boat, ya know.”

Tommy’s arrival cut off any sassy response Sarah might have made, and Joel made sure the house was secure before they took off for the airport. His buddy next door would keep an eye on the house and mow the lawn when needed, as he’d done for years now.

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The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the tranquil waters of the Caribbean. An elegant yacht, a vessel of luxury and escape, sat at the marina awaiting the rest of its crew to board.

Joel stood tall on the bridge, the epitome of a seasoned captain with a stoic demeanor and skin tinted by the southern sun. On the deck, his long-time first mate, Frank, called out friendly greetings along with orders to the crew already at work. Down below, Bill, the yacht's engineer, inspected the engines with a meticulous eye, grumbling to himself about the slightest imperfections of the otherwise pristine ship.

Sarah stood portside with clipboard in hand, greeting each crew member as they arrived and directing them to their bunks. There were a few familiar faces from over the years, many crew members returning to spend another season with the Millers, yet her interior team was entirely new.

Once everyone arrived and settled into what would be their spaces for the next few months, the team leaders called meetings with their crew – Sarah and the interior team settling in the sky lounge while Tommy met with the deck crew in the tender storage space. Once they introduced everyone and went over the important aspects of their respective roles on the yacht, the two teams reconvened in the main salon for the crew meeting with the captain.

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From the moment you spotted the super yacht in the marina, you were in awe. The sleek 100-foot powerhouse towered over the other boats in the mooring, looking more than ready to take on the Caribbean Seas. This was your third season as a deck hand, having changed careers after burning out quickly in the corporate world. Though it might have been a complete waste of your undergrad and graduate degrees, you switched gears to yachting as a means of self-preservation. The hard work of life on the seas reminded you of pleasant summers spent with your grandpa sailing the English Channel and Mediterranean. He taught you everything you knew about boats and the water. You never lost those skills or that love for the sea when you left England for university in America, having been a fierce competitor on your school’s sailing team.

Now, you found yourself joining a new crew on a super yacht for the third year in a row and you could not be more excited. You heard great things about Captain Joel from your prior captains and knew that he treated his crew like family. He commanded respect by taking care to treat the crew with the respect they deserved. You also heard he was gorgeous, but you couldn’t focus on that. You were here to work and didn’t want to get distracted.

Your eyes widened as you walked up the passerelle and met a tall young woman with a mane of springy dark curls. “Hi, I’m Sarah, the Chief Stew!” she greeted, brown eyes shining as brightly as her smile.

Her exuberance was contagious, and you flashed a broad smile in return. “Hi, Sarah,” you replied, giving your name in return, and watched with a keen eye as she checked you off on the clipboard in her hand. “I’m one of the deck hands.”

“I see that.” Sarah met your eyes again. “My Uncle Tommy is the Bosun. He’s awesome, you’ll love him.” Her eyes assessed you further, apparently approving what she saw. “Some also say he’s quite handsome. Though, some say that about my dad, too. Personally, I don’t see it.”

“Cheeky girl!” you laughed, already knowing that you two would get along well. “I can already see you’re going to be a troublemaker.”

“You have no idea!” Sarah confirmed with a smirk. “Come on, I’ll show you to your bunk.”

Sarah gave you the penny tour on the way, pointing out the main areas that you would need to know and explaining a few things about the other crew who arrived so far. The yacht was beautiful and the enormity of it became even more obvious as you moved through the various levels and rooms.

“You’ll be rooming with Tess, the chef. She’s awesome. My dad has been friends with her my entire life. She always prefers the top bunk, so you have the bottom.” Sarah was a fount of information. “We’ll be calling crew meetings in about an hour, so get settled and explore.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” you replied before turning to sort through your things. Left to your own devices, you had your portion of the cabin setup just how you wanted in no time. Before you knew it, you found yourself wandering around the ship, orienting yourself and getting familiar with each area.

Turning a corner on your way to the main deck, you ran smack into a body resembling a solid wall. “Oy! I’m terribly sorry!” you rushed to simultaneously apologize and regain your balance. Your eyes inched upwards along the broad chest in front of you, roving over a scruffy beard, and finally settled on a pair of startlingly deep brown eyes that stared at you in equal wonder.

“Pardon me, darlin’.” The voice emanating from that sinful mouth was deep and rich, causing the hair on the back of your neck to raise with goosebumps. Reaching out a large hand to make sure you were steady, he continued, “You must be one of my new crew members. ‘M the Captain, but you can always call me Joel.”

Good lord, people were not lying when they told you Captain Joel was hot. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever set eyes on. Broad and tall, he struck an imposing figure, but his dark eyes were kind, wide like a puppy’s. The contours of his face were pleasing to the eye. It took you a few moments to realize you were staring wide-eyed without responding, and quickly cleared your throat.

Giving him your name, you added, “I’m one of the deck crew.”

Joel nodded. “My brother is the Bosun. Have you met him yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve only met Sarah… and now you,” you replied. Was he aware that his warm hand was still on your arm? The heat of it searing into your skin in a tantalizing way, threatening to send you to distraction. “I’m sure I’ll meet everyone soon enough.”

“Are you British?” Joel asked suddenly, his tanned cheeks flushing. His free hand raised to the back of his head, ruffling the dark curls there. “Sorry, I just noticed the hint of an accent.”

“I am, though I’ve been in the States for quite a while now and have lost most of the accent I used to have. You could say I’ve become Americanized,” you joked, earning a deep chuckle from Joel.

It seemed that neither of you were interested in getting back to what you were originally doing, the conversation flowing as you shared some of your yachting experience and Joel told you about the rest of his crew and how he liked to operate as a Captain. You decided you could listen to him talk forever – he was enthralling, voice deep and flowing like a rocky stream. All too soon, though, a call came over the radio on Joel’s hip, letting you both know that it was time for the deck crew meeting.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you said, trying not to feel sad that the conversation had to end. Before you could turn to reorient yourself, Joel spoke. “I’m heading in that direction; I’ll show you the way.”

It was a quick, quiet walk to the main deck which allowed you to focus your mind. Joel left you with a soft touch at the small of your back and the hint of a smile before you turned your attention to the other members of the deck crew.

You could see the family resemblance as Tommy introduced himself as Bosun. Damn, the brothers were far more attractive than they had any right to be - the Miller family had a serious gene pool! As if able to read your thoughts, the young woman next you chuckled and teased under her breath, “And another one bites the dust.”

Confused, you glanced at her, keeping half your attention on Tommy’s speech. “What?” you whispered back.

“All the women fall for them.” Her chin jutted toward Tommy, her eyes shifting to the bridge where Joel was stationed. “I hoped you wouldn’t be so predictable.”

Oh, this girl was cheeky! You tried to remember her name from Tommy’s introductions… Kellie? Nellie? No, it was Ellie. This Ellie was… something. “It’s not my fault they’re bloody fucking hot, yeah?”

The pair of you cracked up, drawing Tommy’s ire. “Am I interrupting something more important, ladies?”

Your face warmed as you shook your head, mortified to be called out so early on in the first day of the job. Meanwhile, Ellie merely smirked at the man. “Please, continue with your enthralling speech, Tommy. We’re just dying to hear the rest of it.”

Tommy scowled, the exuberance of his speech now shaken.

At once, you knew the pair of you would get along well. Ellie was so… spunky. And it wasn’t often you got to work with another woman on the deck crew.

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“Hey Dad,” Sarah chimed, stepping onto the bridge to see Joel going over a tide chart for the coming days.

“Hi baby girl,” he replied, slipping the black plastic framed glasses from his nose and popped them in his shirt pocket. “How’s the crew looking this season?”

Sitting with a sigh at the small table in the corner, Sarah stretched her long legs. “It’s looking real good this year. With Uncle Tommy, Tess, Bill, Frank, and Ellie back as always, the new folks should fit right in. I love that we have two women on deck crew.”

Joel nodded. “Tommy said they might be trouble though. He was grumbling about Ellie sassin’ him during his big welcome speech.” The father and daughter shared a good laugh knowing how seriously Tommy took his role as a leader and how hard he worked to perfect that speech over the years. “How about your stews? Ya gotta good team?”

Sarah’s eyes lit up as she nodded excitedly. “For sure! They are going to be great. Sammy has a ton of energy and is focused on hospitality, so he’ll make a great First Stew. It’ll be fun having a guy on the team, too. Talia is friendly but quiet and really organized. She’s already showing signs of taking Emmy under her wing, so she’s a perfect fit for Second Stew. And Emmy is the sweetest thing. She’s like a sponge and is really creative.”

His heart warmed seeing his daughter taking a leadership role at such a young age and already getting to know her team and how to organize them on the first day. Joel was so proud of her it made his heart hurt. “Sounds like you got it all under control. Guess it’s time for the big crew meeting. Call everyone to the main salon, please.”

Making the call over the radio for everyone to meet in the main salon, the pair of them hefted a couple of boxes of uniforms for the crew along with them. They were the first to arrive and Sarah spent the time segregating the uniforms for each crew member, laying them out on the center table for everyone to grab. Joel stood at the head of the room as the crew filtered in and took a seat on the elegant leather sectional. Once everyone was settled, he called the room to order.

“Welcome to Radiance, y’all,” Joel started before giving some facts about the yacht, his experience, and officially welcoming everyone aboard. “As we’re all adults here, I expect appropriate behavior at all times. I only have a few rules. No drinking while on charter. No fraternizing with the guests. Finally, do not embarrass me or this yacht with poor behavior. Got it?”

His darks eyes moved around the room, landing on you for a few beats too long before shifting around again. He couldn’t look at you without being distracted. That was not good.

The meeting shifted to a fun game run by Sarah to get to know each other. Once they were finished, everyone grabbed their new uniforms – a few sets of daily wear, dress whites, and black dinner wear each. They all received rash guards with the boat’s name, Radiance, on it as well, for beach excursions.

“The rest of today is a free day – I suggest you use it to get to know the boat and each other. The real work begins tomorrow as we get the yacht ready for our first charter on Tuesday.” Joel bid them farewell, heading back to the bridge with Frank. Bill also disappeared back down to the engine room, not one for socializing, especially with such a young, rambunctious crowd. Tess and Tommy stuck around, interested in getting to know the new crew members.

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

After a tour of the yacht guided by Sarah and Tommy, everyone ended up in the main salon again. “Anyone up for cocktails and the hot tub?” Tommy asked the group with a cheesy smile.

“Hell yeah,” Ellie responded, already running off back to her cabin to change, leaving a trail of chuckles in her wake.

You were definitely down for an adult beverage and a dip in the hot tub. It would be nice to relax your muscles before the manual labor began tomorrow. Tess and the other girls followed you down to the crew cabins. You all gabbed and changed before heading back up to the flybridge and the bar Sarah knowingly stocked earlier.

You slipped into the hot tub with an ice-cold beer in one hand, unaware of Tommy’s heated gaze taking in the sight of you in your bathing suit as he stood nearby with his own beer in hand. You opted for something simple and modest, yet it showed off enough skin to draw the male eye.

Soon, you were joined by Tess who settled near you with a rocks glass full of amber liquid in it. “Hey,” she said, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You certainly have the Miller brothers’ attention.” Her voice was low, directed to your ears only as she gazed at you with knowing eyes.

Not knowing how to respond, your face heated for the third time since you boarded the yacht. You searched the other woman’s eyes, trying to suss out her angle. You knew from Sarah that Tess was a close friend of the Millers and had worked with Joel and Tommy for a long time. Did she have a thing for one, or both, of them and see you as unwanted competition? Whatever the deal was, you did not want to be causing drama your first day of the season!

“I’m—” a splash cut you off as Sarah hopped into the hot tub, seating herself on Tess’s other side, effectively cutting off whatever you were going to say. Good thing, too, as you had no idea what was about to come out of your mouth.

“Woah! Sorry ‘bout that,” Sarah laughed as the water continued to slosh around from her near cannonball entrance. “Are we talking about anything good?”

Tess glanced at you with a shrug. “Just getting to know one another.” Her eyes stayed on you as she took a long pull from her tumbler.

“Cool, cool. So, tell me about yourself, England,” Sarah directed at you.

Quirking a brow at the unoriginal nickname, you replied, “That the best you can do?”

The younger woman beamed at you, the sparkle in her dark eyes bringing another pair of fine eyes to mind. “For now. I’ll do better once I know more about you.”

The next half hour flew by as the three of you shared stories about yourselves. You already knew you liked Sarah from the moment you met her, but even Tess was starting to grow on you. She was sharp and resourceful with a wicked sense of humor. She was a handful of years older than you and lived quite the adventurous life.

Before long, Tommy and the other deckhand, Connor, joined the three of you in the hot tub while the other three interior staff – Sammy, Talia, and Emmy – sat along the edge not wanting to get too wet. The drinks were flowing and quite a few had been spilled into the bubbling water. No doubt there would be quite the mess to clean up tomorrow along with the rest of the deck crew duties.

You fell into conversation with Tommy, learning about his time in the military and how he followed his brother into the charter yacht industry. He asked questions about growing up in England, the time you spent sailing with your grandfather, and your competitive sailing days. He was borderline flirting, and you could tell he was reigning himself in. You learned early on that it was best not to have yacht relationships, but sometimes it was difficult to avoid when you spent 24/7 with someone in a confined space for a few months.

“I love your accent. You sound so much smarter than us Texans,” Tommy said. Americans always loved your accent, though it lost most of its edge by now.

“It’s all an illusion,” you joked. He started leaning closer to you the more alcohol he imbibed, and you could feel Tess’s heavy gaze watching the two of you. Deciding it was time to call it a night, you told the group goodnight despite their protests. Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around you and dripped your way down to the crew mess for a snack before climbing into your bunk.

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

The following morning, you woke up before your alarm, hearing Tess gently snoring in the bunk above you. Wondering what time she came in last night; you dressed in your daily uniform as quietly as possible and freshened up in the bathroom. Closing the cabin door with a gentle click, you grabbed a yogurt for breakfast and made your way up to the tender storage to start your day.

It was only seven o’clock and it appeared most everyone else was still asleep, meeting no one on your journey. You took the opportunity to stroll around the deck, the salt air naturally waking you up. You stopped at the bow to gaze out at the turquoise sea. The water was flat, and a calm breeze ruffled your hair.

“G’morning,” a deep voice sounded behind you, the smell of coffee wafting through the air. Joel appeared at your side, his eyes raking over you in a pleasing way before shifting to the horizon.

 “Good day, Captain,” you greeted in return, a warm smile spreading your lips. He smelled really good – freshly showered with a cologne that accentuated his natural musk. It made your mouth start to water.

Jesus, you should have gotten laid before coming onto this boat.

“Ya want some coffee?” Joel raised the mug in his hand. “I have a fresh pot going. Figured y’all would need it after last night.”

A girlish giggle escaped you before you could stop it. “I don’t drink the stuff, prefer tea, if anything. I called it a night early, but I have no doubt everyone else will need the caffeine boost.”

“Not the typical party animal yachtie then?” The view forgotten, you both turned toward each other to continue the conversation, hips leant against the railing.

“Not by half,” you laughed. “I did enough of that in my university days. Not that I don’t enjoy socializing and having a good time though. I just like to make my hangovers worth it.”

That earned a hearty chuckle from Joel. “That’s one way of putting things into perspective. And I agree, the hangover has to be worth it.”

The two of you fell into comfortable conversation, sharing tidbits about yourselves until more of the deck crew started to emerge for the day. You locked away all the things Joel shared, wanting to build the story of him in your mind.

“This was quite pleasant. We should do it again sometime, Cap’n.” Your gazes held intensely for a few beats before Joel hummed in agreement. Then, movement over your shoulder caught his attention.

“Looks like Tommy’s gatherin’ the troops. Ya better get moving, sweetheart.” Between the term of endearment and the crooked smile, you could have turned into a puddle at the handsome Captain’s feet. Instead, you flashed him your most charming smile and dashed off to join your team for a grueling day of hard work.

And grueling it was as Tommy had you all scrub and hose down every inch of the exterior, check all the equipment, and reorganize the tender storage before doing it all over again to make sure it met his exacting measures. All the while, your mind stayed occupied with thoughts of Captain Joel. Even when you slipped into your bunk, physically wiped out and barely able to call out a ‘good night’ to an equally exhausted Tess, your subconscious allowed Joel to infiltrate your dreams.

[never-be-tamed]

WEEKEND AT THE OVERLOOK HOTEL

Do you dare to check in? 🛎️

The infamous Overlook Hotel, nestled in the isolated Colorado Rockies, has a dark and mysterious history. Known for its eerie atmosphere and paranormal activity, the hotel has attracted visitors looking for a thrilling experience. This weekend, a group of individuals, each with their own reasons, has checked in. As night falls, strange occurrences begin to happen, turning a weekend getaway into a nightmare. ⸻ imagine yourself in the situation and create your character as they are trapped in a horror movie come true. bonus: get your creative juices flowing and write a oneshot. what happened before the picture? where is your character headed now? are they searching for their friends/the people that arrived with them or are they investigating something different entirely? what else is lurking amongst the shadows?

TRIGGERWARNING!!!! + A LOT TO READ!

Einer nach dem anderen.

Das Gelächter war wie Musik in seinen Ohren. Ein kurzer Blick in den Rückspiegel genügte und Alexander schaute in die glücklichen Gesichter seiner Freunde, die herzhaft miteinander herumalberten, sorglos und voller Lebensenergie. Grinsend richtete er sein Augenpaar wieder auf die endlos lange Straße, die sich vor seinen Augen erstreckte. Es war ein weiter Weg nach Colorado und natürlich hatte sich der Russe (mal wieder) bereit erklärt, sich hinters Steuer zu setzen und die Meute zu kutschieren. "Ist es noch weit?", murmelte Nikita völlig genervt. Sie hatte es sich auf dem Beifahrersitz gemütlich gemacht und trommelte ungeduldig mit ihren Fingern an die Fensterscheibe. "Ich kann es nicht erwarten! Das Overlook Hotel! Ich habe so viel Gutes gehört! Es soll sehr mysteriös sein. Und auch gruselig!", erklang Sarah's aufgeregte Stimme hinter ihm und auch seine Schwester Accalia konnte es sich nicht nehmen lassen einen Kommentar abzugeben. "Würde mein Bruder vielleicht schneller fahren und nicht so viel träumen, wären wir sicherlich schneller dort und könnten uns selbst davon überzeugen." — "Bestie, du sprichst immer aus was ich denke.", kam es von Seiten Nikita's, ehe auch Iljà und Arthur ihren Senf zu der Situation hinzufügten. "Ihr Ladies könnt auch gerne laufen." – "Ja, mit euren schönen Heels. Die ganze Strecke. Bis nach Colorado." Die Jungs lachten herzhaft im Chor. "Mir völlig egal, ich trage Sneakers.", warf Ash ein und zuckte gleichgültig die Schultern. Seufzend warf Alexander den Kopf an die Lehne und schmunzelte. "So weit ist es nicht mehr. Entspannt euch." Nikita's verächtliches Schnauben ignorierte er gekonnt und konzentrierte sich weiter auf die Fahrt und ihre gemeinsame Reise ins Overlook Hotel.

...

"Wir sind da!!" Sarah hüpfte auf ihrem Sitz auf und ab, streckte sich anschließend über Accalia und Ash, um aus dem Fenster zu schauen. Diesen wiederum entfuhr ein entnervtes "Sarah!", während sie versuchten die Blondine von sich zu schieben. Das Overlook Hotel erstreckte sich vor den Augen der sieben Freunde. Ein prächtiges, düster wirkendes Anwesen, mit einer weiten Grünfläche rundherum. Es erschien nahezu unheimlich. Provokant starrten die Fenster zu einem hinab, formten glühende Augen, durch die dahinterliegenden roten Vorhänge. "Das kann ja lustig werden.", warf Iljà amüsiert ein. "Genau mein Geschmack!" – Nikita klatschte einmal in die Hände. "Na gut, genug davon. Lasst uns aussteigen und einchecken. Ich will hier keine Wurzeln schlagen."

Die sieben Freunde schnappten sich ihre Koffer und betraten das Hotel, ohne aber zu ahnen, dass sie es nie wieder lebend verlassen würden.

"Das ist ja komisch.", murmelte Ash, die plötzlich im Gang stehen blieb, nachdem die Freunde am Counter eingecheckt hatten. Wie verdutzt starrte sie auf die Schlüssel. "Hm? Was genau?", Arthur trat an ihre Seite, doch ihm war nicht klar, wo genau das Problem lag. Ash wirbelte den Schlüssel vor seinem Gesicht hin und her. "Unsere Zimmer... Wir sind gar nicht beieinander. Hatten wir das nicht anders gebucht?" — "Mist, ich wollte mich doch nachts zu den Mädels schleichen." Sarah's Enttäuschung war kaum zu überhören. — "Lass mich mal sehen." Nikita trat hervor um sich dem Ganzen anzunehmen. Erwartungsvoll starrte die Gruppe in ihre Richtung. "Sie hat Recht. Das ist seltsam." – "Kein Weltuntergang.", erwiderte Accalia schnell und zuckte die Schultern. "Vielleicht hat sich in der Planung vom Hotel etwas verschoben. Wir sind immer noch im selben Gebäude. Machen wir das Beste daraus." Alexander nickte. "Lasst uns erstmal auspacken und ankommen. Wir treffen uns in einer Stunde in der großen Halle, schlage ich vor?" Die Meute nickte zustimmend. Kurz darauf löste sich die Gruppe auf und jeder machte sich auf den Weg zu seinem Zimmer. Alexander's Augenmerk blieb an dem antiken Holztisch hängen, auf dem bereitwillig eine Flasche Whiskey stand. Schnell schenkte sich der Russe einen großzügigen Schuss ein, ehe auch er sich in Bewegung setzte.

Alexander schlich mitsamt seines Whiskeys und seines Koffers durch den langen Korridor im dritten Stock. 237. Die Zahl hallte in seinen Gedanken nach. Während seiner Suche bemerkte er beiläufig, wie unheimlich ruhig es in diesem Hotel zuging. Bisher hatte er noch keine Menschenseele entdeckt, außer natürlich der Empfangsdame und, ja... seinen Freunden. 'Diese Ruhe hätte ich auch gerne daheim', dachte er sich nichtsahnend.

Nachdem Alexander sein Gepäck verstaut hatte, begab er sich zurück nach unten. In der großen Halle angekommen, stellte er fest, dass er wohl der Erste war. Er schenkte sich gleich nochmal einen Schluck Whiskey ein und machte es sich auf dem Sofa bequem. Und er wartete.

Und wartete..

Und wartete....

Und wartete noch länger....

Eine Stunde später. Wo steckten sie bloß? Sie hatten doch vereinbart, dass sie sich alle in der großen Halle treffen würden. Und auch von der Empfangsdame fehlte jede Spur. Spielten ihm seine Freunde einen Streich? Zutrauen würde er es ihnen. Es wäre nicht das erste Mal, dass sie ihn reingelegt hätten. Er schnaubte. Nicht einmal Iljà war hier. Entnervt zückte er sein Smartphone und schickte ein energisches 'Wo seid ihr????' in die gemeinsame Gruppe.

Jedoch ohne eine Antwort.

Seltsam. Noch immer begegnete er niemandem auf seinem Weg. Dann vor seiner vermeintlichen Zimmertür verzog er verwirrt das Gesicht. Was? 238? Er hätte schwören können, dass hier sein Zimmer war. Doch das machte absolut keinen Sinn. Er hatte die Nummer 237. Und das hier war definitiv 238. Hatte er sich geirrt? Hatte ihm die Situation, dass seine Freunde nicht aufgetaucht waren so zugesetzt, dass er nun Gespenster sah? Aufmerksam blickte er sich um. Wo ist 237? Eigentlich müsste sie unmittelbar in seiner Nähe sein. Der Russe suchte wie verrückt jede einzelne Tür im Korridor ab, doch fand er seine Zimmernummer 237 nicht. Wurde er gerade wahnsinnig? War der Whiskey ihm bereits zu Kopf gestiegen? Unwahrscheinlich, er vertrug eine Menge. Was war hier nur los? Erst tauchten seine Freunde nicht auf, obwohl es so vereinbart gewesen war, keine Menschenseele war in Sicht und nun suchte er wie ein 10 Jähriger nach einer verfluchten Tür.

Noch einmal kontrollierte er die Schilder an den Türen und dort, wo vor einigen Sekunden noch 238 gestanden hatte, stand plötzlich... 237? Hatte er den Verstand verloren? 'Was für ein Schwachsinn', murmelte er. Wütend über sich selbst und seine scheinbare Unfähigkeit Schilder zu lesen, schlug er die Tür hinter sich zu. 'Ein wundervoller Ausflug. Ganz wundervoll.'

...

Ring-Ring. Der Nachrichtensound seines Smartphones ertönte. "Na endlich. Wurde aber auch Zeit.", murmelte er und machte sich schon bereit seinen Freunden eine Standpauke zu verpassen. Doch was er las ließ ihm das Blut in den Adern gefrieren.

Hilf mir? Er überlegte nicht lange. Er sprang auf und rannte so schnell wie möglich zu Sarah's Zimmer. Auf dem Weg dorthin überlegte er sich, was er mit ihr machen würde, sofern das alles ein Scherz war. Er würde ihr eigenhändig die blonden, langen Haare abschneiden. Das würde er tun. Egal wie sehr sie flehen, schreien und weinen würde. Das hätte sie sich dann selber zuzuschreiben. Doch als er ihre Zimmertür offen vorfand und sein Blick sogleich auf den Blut verschmierten Boden fiel, waren alle negativen Gedanken wie weggeblasen. Vorsichtig öffnete er die Tür... und erschauderte.

Sarah. Ihr lebloser, blutüberströmter Körper lag ihm zu Füßen. Überall war... Blut an ihr. Ihre Augen rollten sich starr nach hinten. Verzweifelt fühlte er ihren Puls, doch... Sie war tot. Es war zu spät. Alexander's Herz schlug wie wild in seiner Brust. Er konnte nichts mehr für sie tun. Hilflos sackte er an der offenen Tür in ihrem Blut zusammen.

Eine halbe Ewigkeit verging in der er einfach nur so da saß und ihren leblosen Körper anstarrte. Sein Hosenbein tränkte sich in ihrem Blut. Sarah's Verlust traf den Russen mitten ins Herz. Doch er musste jetzt stark sein. Er musste die anderen finden und ihnen erzählen was passiert war. Sie mussten hier raus. Dieses Hotel... SIE MUSSTEN HIER RAUS!

Er überwand sich aufzustehen. Iljà. Er wird wissen was zutun ist. Mit schnellen Schritten begab er sich in den zweiten Stock. Auf seinem Weg fiel ihm der Glaskasten an der Wand des Korridors auf. Darin befand sich eine Axt. Ohne groß darüber nachzudenken, wieso hier ein Glaskasten mit einer Axt hing, zerschlug er das Glas und krallte sich die Waffe. Er war gewappnet. Was oder... Wer sich ihm auch in den Weg stellen würde, er würde denjenigen ohne mit der Wimper zu zucken erledigen. Das schwor er sich.

Iljà. Wie wild hämmerte der Russe gegen die Zimmertür seines besten Freundes. "Iljà. Mach doch auf verdammt!" — Stille. Vielleicht war er einfach nicht in seinem Zimmer. — Vielleicht lag er aber auch wie Sarah in irgendeiner Ecke und war tot... Alexander blieb keine andere Wahl. Er musste die Tür einschlagen. Froh darüber, dass er die Axt hatte mitgehen lassen, schlug der Mann immer wieder auf die Holztür ein, bis er sich letztlich einen Spalt freigekämpft hatte, um seine Hand hindurch zu führen. Er hielt einen Moment lang inne.

Dann öffnete er die Tür.

Er konnte es nicht übersehen. Das Bett. Und der abgetrennte Kopf Iljà's, der auf der Bettdecke platziert war, als wäre er ein Souvenir oder ein Dekoartikel. Schockiert blickte Alexander in die leblosen Augen seines besten Freundes. Sein Kopf war abgetrennt, sein Körper nirgends zu sehen. Alexander verlor sein Gleichgewicht und Tränen bildeten sich in seinen Augen. "Nein, nein, nein!" All die gemeinsamen Augenblicke mit Iljà zogen noch einmal vor seinem geistigen Auge vorbei. Und erneut brach sein Herz inzwei.

Er konnte nichts mehr für ihn tun.

Accalia. Verzweifelt suchte er in den endlosen Hallen des dritten Stocks nach seiner Schwester. Immer wieder rief er nach ihr, doch nur die Stille antwortete ihm. Ihr Zimmer hatte er leer aufgefunden, was ihm wiederum ein Stück weit Hoffnung schenkte. Doch mit jeder Minute die verstrich, wuchs die Unsicherheit und Sorge in ihm. Seine Schritte führten ihn in die große Halle, in der er einige Stunden zuvor noch auf seine Freunde gewartet hatte. Und abermals schnürte das Geschehen Alexander die Luft ab.

Arthur saß regungslos auf dem Sofa. Seine Augen waren entfernt worden, welche unmittelbar vor ihm in ein Whiskey-Glas gelegt worden waren. Accalia saß direkt neben ihm, ihr war ein High-Heel in den Schädel gebohrt worden. Alexander's Verzweiflung wuchs. Er hatte keinen blassen Schimmer was er tun sollte. Das alles war wie ein böser Traum aus dem er inständig hoffte zu erwachen. Doch leider war das brutale Geschehen bittere Realität, aus der es keinen Ausweg gab.

Er konnte nichts mehr für die beiden tun.

Ash. Der erste Stock. 'Bitte, lass sie leben', schoss es ihm durch den Kopf, als er ruckartig ihre Zimmertür öffnete. Ash's lebloser Körper hing an der Garderobe unmittelbar vor ihm. Sie wurde aufgehängt, als wäre sie ein Mantel. Ihre Sneakers wurden ihr um den Hals geschnürt. Es tropfte immer noch das Blut von ihrem Gesicht und ihren Händen. Erschöpft und verzweifelt sank er auf den Boden. All die Erinnerungen die er und seine Freunde miteinander geteilt hatten, all das Lachen, all die freundschaftlichen Gesten, all das lag nun schwer auf Alexander's Gemüt. Wie eine dunkle Wolke, die ihn niemals wieder verlassen würde. Doch so schwer die Last auch war, einen Hoffnungsschimmer gab es noch.

Er konnte nichts mehr für Ash tun, jedoch...

Was war mit Nikita? Sie war die Letzte, die neben ihm noch übrig war. Mit allerletzter Kraft zog sich der Russe hinauf und umklammerte fest seine von Blut verschmierte Axt. Er musste sie finden. Noch war nicht alles verloren. Ja, er hatte viele Verluste zu beklagen, man hatte ihm fast alles genommen, doch blieb ihm immer noch ein kleiner Hoffnungsschimmer, auch wenn er keine Ahnung hatte, ob sie überhaupt noch lebte.

Nikita's Zimmer befand sich im ersten Stock. Er fühlte sich erschöpft, kraftlos und verzweifelt. Was würde er tun, wenn er sie ebenfalls tot auffinden würde? Sollte er das Hotel dann einfach so verlassen als ob nie etwas geschehen wäre? Wie sollte er mit all dem nur leben können? — Ehe er seine Gedanken zuende bringen konnte, bemerkte er von Weitem Nikita's offene Zimmertür. Sie stand regungslos mitten im Raum. Wie von einer Tarantel gestochen rannte er zu ihr. Ins Zimmer 238.

"Niki! Geht es dir gut? Die anderen... Sie sind alle..." Alexander verstummte augenblicklich als er Blut von Nikita's Arm tropfen sah. "Bist... bist du verletzt?" — "Nein.", ertönte ihre verzerrte, dunkle, andersartige Stimme, als plötzlich messerscharfe Klauen aus ihren Fingern wuchsen. Stille. Langsam dämmerte es dem Russen. Das war nicht seine beste Freundin. "Du bist nicht Nikita." Langsam drehte sich die Gestalt vor ihm um. Ihre Blut unterlaufenen Augen blickten ihn geradewegs an. Stille. 'Was oder... Wer sich ihm auch in den Weg stellen würde, er würde denjenigen ohne mit der Wimper zu zucken erledigen. Das schwor er sich.' — Er hatte es geschworen. Entschlossen umklammerte er seine Axt und war bereit das Monster zur Strecke zu bringen. "Alex!", schrie Nikita ängstlich, als er ihr gerade die Axt in den Schädel rammen wollte. Panik und Verzweiflung spiegelte sich in ihren Augen wieder. Das war der Moment in dem Alexander zögerte. Und er würde den Preis dafür bezahlen.

Ehe er sich versah, sprang ihn die Kreatur an und warf ihn zu Boden. Seine Axt war außer Reichweite. Nikita oder... dieses Ding beugte sich über ihn und lächelte sanft. Einen Moment lang dachte er, sie ist es. Niki. Seine Niki. Seine beste Freundin. Doch als sich ihr Lächeln langsam zu einer bestialischen Fratze verzog, schwand alle Hoffnung aus Alexander's Geiste. "Du bist der Letzte.", spuckte die Gestalt in Form seiner besten Freundin ihm entgegen, bevor sie ihm mit ihren langen Klauen die Kehle aufriss und so sein Leben beendete.

Das Gelächter war wie Musik in seinen Ohren. Ein kurzer Blick in den Rückspiegel genügte und Alexander schaute in die glücklichen Gesichter seiner Freunde, die herzhaft miteinander herumalberten, sorglos und voller Lebensenergie... "Alexander Wolkow!"

Nikita's Aufschrei warf den Russen augenblicklich aus seiner traumatischen Gedankenspirale. Oder eher Vorahnung?

"Siehst du, ich habe ja gesagt, dass er träumt beim Fahren", murmelte Accalia gehässig.

"Wann sind wir da? Im Overlook Hotel?"

...

The End.

Featuring: @shevampyre @betterstay-dead @drkcurse @daemonoria @zeitrcisender @madame--fist (it was an honor guys!)

If you read till the end, I appreciate you!!!

tagged by: @verflcht (thank you!!!! This was fun)

tagging: Die 5 anderen Hochstapler! @t-hevessel @stcrseeker @godfrcy @chaoticmvse @wisepolitician @fri-luftsliv @ghoulishblood & anyone who wants to do it!

[jolalibrary]

okay but I have brain rot for…

assassin!joel miller x f!reader 👉👈

like think assassins creed II — I blame Florence for this, @ghostaholics and @thetriumphantpanda for not telling me this is a bad idea 😂

below is just imagine style bullet points of my brain rot. they may not make sense but look, if this is something we want, the rot is there. warnings; assassin behaviour, hints at smut, Jo making people fall in love as usual.

• imagine joel discovering that his family have been executed: sarah, tommy, tess—all gone. fleeing when he realises his face is on posters, going to a distant cousin's house only to find out his heritage of being an assassin. and he wants retribution, wants blood, wants the people who made the call to pay. so he trains (think of the arms 💪🏼)

• it’s some years later, when he returns to the city to enact revenge, when he first meets you. some woman of high standing, living in your uncle’s house—learning to paint. Joel hears a disturbance and sees some guards shoving you around, your fist connecting with one before it gets nasty, and he swoops in, saving you. you leave behind some brushes in your dash to get home.

• he finds you some days later, your eye-catching sight of him as you continue to paint. “I know you’re there, assassin.” and he eventually shows himself, handing you the brushes back. you’re eyeing him, waiting until he steps back into the shade, thanking him as he makes his exit. there’s more back and forth, accidental run-ins, him spotting you in places you shouldn’t be, until one day, when his grunts and silence don’t seem to work, he asks if you have a death wish. “you’re blade is blunt.” the tip of your brush pointing at the one on his wrist, “I can help you with that, for the death wish.” you kiss him, soft, chaste—enough to render him silent and still, but not an invitation for him to do more. he declines the offer of your help with his blade, but takes your handwritten note with your address.

• joel checks in on you, tells himself its just to be sur. but he does it more and more frequently. once finding you reading at your balcony. another time painting, and he’s pretty sure you clock him again. another you’re crying, something that pulls at him but he ignores.

• it isn’t until his wrist blade snaps that he comes to your room later that night, entering via the balcony. you tell him your uncle knows a maker, someone who can help him. and he protests, that this is dangerous, but you argue back that you want to help. but he needs you to know, so he continues and continues about what he does to people, what he does to those who have killed his family—how he does it, that vengeance won’t end when the last head rolls—watching tears fill your eyes. that there is always more, more injustice, more poison to rid, and then you grab his arms, pulling him from his speech. “then rid it, Joel. remove it. make the city something to be proud of.” he’s taken back, but you kiss him. something he deepens this time. whispering you don’t care, pressing it to his lips. more words whispered between kisses, between you removing his layers: I don’t care, I understand, I get it, I’m yours. and the latter spark something, a possessiveness rising in him, as you strip the last thing from him that makes him the thing that perches on rooftops.

• secret kisses where his hood remains up, and your hands slide around the inside of his cape. tucked away in alcoves of the city, you making threats that he best show up tonight, and he never makes promises—because his line of work doesn’t allow for them—but he kisses you like he wishes too.

• pulling you into an abandoned house when you’re on the way to an event—you having ditched your chaperone, knowing he is always watching. the skirt of your dress lifted, his hand between your thighs as you ask if he’ll be “keeping a look out for me tonight?” and his ministrations increase, his mouth ghosting over your whimpers and the way you say his name, before he tells you, “best believe it.”

• it’s a lot for Joel to trust people. and while he usually doesn’t come to you when he’s hurt (just appears with new bruises and fresh scars) one night he doesn’t think of anywhere else to go. the wound is bad, landing awkwardly on your balcony—unaware you’ve been scurrying away medical supplies from the market for weeks, just in case. you stitch him, apply ointment and bandage him. eventually curling up to his sleeping frame. he wakes with a warmth on his good side, pain pulsating on the other, opening his eyes to a sleeping you—a version he doesn’t get to see, doesn’t get to experience. a stolen, perfect moment that solidifies how much he feels for you, and also how dangerous all of this is. but when you open your eyes, he forgets, pressing gratefulness to your lips. then he spots how your nightdress is stained, ruined, realising that he’s done that—poisoned it in the same way he has your life.

• one time, he’s a little late to save you from a handsy, out of control “suitor” throwing the man out the window into a hay bale so he can tend to you, not wanting you to see his violence—even if you hear about it, the entire city speaking on him. he begins to blames himself, that he’s old. that you deserve better. but you just let him ramble until he’s out of words, and then you kiss him, “because I choose you, Joel.” he doesn’t say what those words mean to him, but he shows you later. he does worry what he’s doing to you by letting you keep getting closer, knowing full well he’s doomed you, in a different way than you’ve doomed him.

• when a kid breaks into his HQs, he takes one look at their frizzy hair and dirty feet, and asks why they’re here. the girl, Ellie introduces herself, said Marlene sent her to him, that she was told he’d look after her—know what to do. that there’s still ties between the fireflies and the assassins. he tells her to bathe, while he sends a pigeon to you to bring clothes for her. you meeting Ellie, and her enamoured with you and your kindness, something Joel knows all too well himself.

• time goes on, him and your relationship never delving out of a situationship. your uncle pushing more for you to marry, Joel stealing moments here and there with you. behind statues and marble pillars, down quiet streets and in your bedroom—hand over your mouth so no one in the house knows you’re not alone as he fucks you, his praise whispered in plenty. “because you’re so good for me, always taking me so well”—you leaving half-moon marks in his side as he does so, leaving a bit of you on him, the same way he leaves bruises on your hips.

• when Joel discovers your Uncle is someone involved in the demise of his family he experiences a conflicting array of feelings rising in him. so much so, he interrupts you during an art class—pulling you outside to tell you, to ask you if you knew. but he can tell instantly from the way your eyes widen and shimmer, that you don’t. and so, the two of you begin to work closely together, to unravel the mysteries that is your uncle.

• until one night when you learn it all, what your uncle did to his brother—your own father—Joel in the wings, hearing it all: from the confession to the way your heart shatters. that your uncle sent your mother away so he could find you a suitor of his choosing, and it isn’t until the house goes into lockdown, do you find yourself separated, trying to find Joel, running and running until your uncle’s hand is coated in his blood and Joel is on the floor. and you don’t think, don’t even question, taking one of the blades from Joel’s belt and holding it to your uncle’s neck, a choice there, but there’s no shake in your hand. feeling, slowly, Joel’s hands come around your waist, giving you the strength.

[tkwrites]

Insert the most excited of squeals and embarrassing of happy dances to see the family reunion posted 🙌😍

I tried to do a little summary of my favourite bits as an usual, got a tad carried away, but you deserve all the hype so I didn't bother trying to shorten it anymore 😝😘

Oh I just LOVED it all! And it really had a bit of everything just to spoil us! Thankyou a million for continuing to share your creative talent 🫶

I loved seeing those interactions and bonding moments with his parents, like Ellen's observations and little check ins 🥹. Oh and how cute she was with all his cousins. The tide pool day was just so wholesome as all the fam was invested in it and/or seeing how in love Quinn is with her. Those small moments with Jack too, him asking about doing the same in Hawaii is actually so cute! The bit of banter we see between them throughout is so fun to see also!

Her sharing memories of her dad was such a beautiful little moment too 🥹. I appreciate how you incorporate her grief into alot of your snapshots. It's such a cruel part of life that Sarah, and yourself, has had to experience more than your share for being young 🫶🩷. It truly helps me to see it pop up throughout small daily tasks and these bigger events.

All of the older relatives observations of how good they are and how in love Quinn is, ahh just- swoon!

Quinn being as obsessed with her as we all know he is is so fun to read, poor man just wants to have his way with her aha! All the stolen little moments between them as they try to actually have eachother after such a time apart 🥹. Oh and then they finally do! 🔥🙈😍, boy it was getting hot in here 😅

I was abit scared to learn there was angst in this, like noooo, it's a happy time, don't be fighting. But it just fits so well and continues to show how mature and real your writing is. Their emotions are just so overwhelming and it's easy to take it out on those we love to avoid feeling the sadness. And leads to such a soft and just oh so perfect final sex scene for the trip.

So glad Jack finally came around and the little brother interaction as she leaves was just so cuteeee. Jack is right, this suprise is going to be epic 😝🩷

Five Days of Joy

You're too good to me, my lovely Alora!

For the sake of not taking over your feed, I've responded to everything below:

I wrote that scene with the tide pools in about 15 minutes, and it all just fell together so well. I love that we get to see Sarah really in her element there.

I LOVE the banter that's developing between Sarah and Jack as they get a little more comfortable with each other. When they're in Hawaii, they'll develop a more emotional connection, which will help to solidify their relationship even more. Jack will finally have an older sister he can go to for advice, which I think is something he's always wanted, but never knew.

I think it's important to show how grief, or any other kind of trauma, pops up again and again in our lives. It would be really nice if we only had to deal with it once, and then it was done, but unfortunately, that's not how life goes. Sometimes, someone says something and it just triggers that response, and there's nothing you can do about it but ride the wave of emotion. I think it's important to show those things normalized in fiction. It somehow gives me permission to feel and do when I see someone else feel and do. Does that make sense?

I felt kind of bad making Quinn wait so long for what he wanted. I really wanted them to have sex in the car, and for it to be rather desperate, which meant I had to find ways to stop them from being together. I kept having to find new obstacles. They originally had this really intense quicky on the drive home, but I cut it, ultimately feeling like it cheapened the story and it didn't fit with the timeline I was building. If you want to read it, let me know.

The angst was kind of weird. I said this before, but I planned for the 5th day to be really simple, and then all of a sudden, Quinn was sad and angry and picking a fight. I love that sex scene. I think it's my favorite that I've ever written.

I'm so excited to get to the surprise and for Quinn to freak out in Hawaii!

[queenoftheworldisdead]

The Night Shift

Chapter 2

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used. Let me know if i fucked up and not do that. Chat me up i don't bite!

Warning: Adult content only! 18+ only please. Dark! NON-CON, sexual assault, Sleep paralysis, roofed, oral.

Summary: You start a new job at the best hotel and resort in your beautiful beach town. Things start to go bad when your transferred to the night shift.

Jonathan Pine x Reader

🌺

The dreaded time has come. You’d tried to prepare, but sleeping during the day was still somewhat impossible.

From the time clock you hear the cheerful chatter from the 2nd shifters. They’ll be more happy to see you than you than the other way around.

As you near the archway to the lobby, you spot Sarah, Connie and Amber busy at work. You haven’t really gotten to know the other two yet; they always seemed a bit distant. They probably thought you’re weird, like everyone else in your life. Maybe that’s the real reason why they moved you to the graveyard shift.

Sarah spots you and waves. You’re gonna miss her. She was the only friend you’d made so far, and now you’d be back to square one.

Third shift ran on a skeleton crew you found out. One clerk, you, and one manager, Mr. Pine, who you suspected would be holed up in his office all night like the other managers. Housekeeping and security were always on the move, never in one spot for long, and worked out of a separate building, making it nearly impossible to even cross paths. The kitchen was fully staffed but always hectic and intimidating, and shutdown at midnight.

If you could have your phone, you could push through the impending loneliness, but it was strictly against policy to have them during shifts.

“Ready for your all nighter?”

The sudden voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you let out a squeak. Heads turn from the lobby to you. You quickly lower your gaze and hide, their attention doesn’t last, but it’s still embarrassing.

“Oh, sorry darling, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Mr. Pine apologizes, patting your back comfortingly.

You stiffen when his hand slips to the small of your back and lingers a bit longer than you’d like. He’s probably just being nice, you reason, but the thought doesn’t quite ease the awkwardness.

You force a small smile and he releases, as if it was what he was waiting for.

“I-It’s ok. I was just a little startled. I didn’t notice you there.” You reply, still a little frazzled.

“I’ve been told I’m a bit light-footed. I’ll do better next time and try to make myself a little less invisible." He remarks with a grin. You appreciate the light-heated attempt to comfort you. Maybe one day you'd stop acting like a startled rabbit—but probably not.

🌺

Check-ins cool down and Connie’s the first to log off. You offer a meek goodbye before quickly scurrying away to take her spot.

Connie smiles as you cross paths, and you smile back, but realize too late that her attention is on Mr. Pine and not you.

They share a laugh and converse while you quietly take over her station, brushing off the interaction. It’s not the first time its happened, being ignored was more of what you were used to.

You log into your stations computer. Despite how modern and luxurious the hotel, the clerk computers are old and clunky and only good for handling guest and nothing more.

“Hey heads up. Bachelor party checked earlier, but left a while ago. Already drunk,” Sarah informs as she approaches. “When they get back expect a lot of noise complaints. If they get out of hand let security know, it’ll finally give them something useful to do.”

“Thanks. Will do.”

Rowdy guest were nothing new to you. If they did cut up at least it would spice up your night.

“Are you OK? You don’t look so great.” She inquires making you worry how bad you must’ve looked.

“I-I'm fine, just tired. Not used to the change yet,” you answer a bit self-conscious.

“Sarah as lovely as always,” Mr. Pine charmingly chimes in and Sarah lights up.

He’s behind you again. You should expect it by now, but you don’t. He was worse than your cat—always sneaking up on you. He really did need a bell.

🌺

Amber leaves shortly after Sarah and your left alone on the front lines. The guests dwindle to a trickle, their footsteps echoing through the empty lobby. The usual chatter, the clink of luggage wheels, the constant buzz of activity—it’s all gone, replaced by a heavy silence. Even the light feels different at this hour, dimmer, as if the hotel itself is winding down.

As the minutes stretch on, your body feels heavier, the hum of the computer and the soft ticking of the clock blending into a lullaby that pulls you into a sleepy haze. You blink slowly, fighting to stay awake, but the lack of sleep presses down on you. Shifting in place, you try to stay alert, but your vision blurs as the screen fades in and out of focus.

A sharp knock jerks you awake. You straighten upright, heart pounding, blinking away the fog. Your eyes dart to where Mr.Pine stands, his knuckles still pressed against the archway.

“Pardon me darling, I hope I didn’t catch you unaware.”

“Oh no your fine,” you stammer, stifling a yawn into your hand.

“I see I’ve arrived just in time. Here I got you this. A gift.”

He wiggles the insulated cup with the hotel logo. You raise an eyebrow, “Coffee?”

“Its salted Carmel espresso blend, compliments of the kitchen,” he replies, handing it over. “I hear it's quiet the favorite amongst the guest these days.”

“Oh you didn’t have to,” you insist, but take it anyway. The warmth bleeds through your hands, spreading a comforting heat up through you.

“Nonsense. It’s the least I could do. Especially after earlier.“ he chuckles softly. “Hope you like it.”

You take a sip and hum at the sweet taste. It’s a bit too sweet but the spike of sugar and caffeine you hope will help fight off sleep.

“Thank you.”

He smiles at your response, but you can’t keep his gaze. He is handsome, too handsome. You pray for a guest, a call, or anything to interrupt this interaction, but nothing comes. You take another big sip as he stays. It feels like he wants you to say something, but you’re the worst person for conversation.

“How have you been finding your time with us so far?” Mr. Pine asks breaking the growing awkward silence.

“Its really great everyones so nice,” you begin to answer, but you find yourself fighting to stifle another yawn. “It’s… usually busier during the day.”

He chuckles softly. “Yes, quite right the night shift’s a different beast. No rush, no chaos.” He pauses, tilting his head.

You nod taking another sip, though your mind is starting to blur. His words are becoming harder to focus on. He’s talking, asking you another question, but you feel the weight of sleep creeping in. Your eyes start to close involuntarily. The coffee isn’t helping and now your struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Darling?” Mr. Pine softening voice breaches your haze and hand touches your shoulder gently.

You blink quickly, “Sorry, I-”

“Why don’t you take this. Our little secret.” Mr. Pine interjects. He hands you a card key to your surprise. “A nice thirty minute nap might do you some good. I’ll cover for you.”

You hesitate, but your body is begging for rest. This can’t be good for your probation period. You frown and fight through your resolve.

“I couldn’t—”

“It’s fine, this won’t reflect poorly on you,” he insists, gently nudging you. “3rd shift takes some time getting used to, and it’s dead here anyway. If by some miracle it gets crazy I’ll come for you.”

His tone is easygoing, but there’s a firmness to it, as if he’s not giving you a choice. You nod defeated and head toward the back to get your phone.

Maybe he was right, if you could get few a minutes of sleep you might be able to make it to morning.

🌺

Its a struggle to make it to the third floor. Your eyelids grow heavier with each step, your body sluggish as though you're wading through molasses. The door numbers blur as you shuffle down the hallway, fighting to stay awake.

Finally, you find it and you fumble with the keycard, nearly dropping it in your exhaustion. The lock clicks, and you push the door open.

A breeze greets you as you enter. The soft neutral tones of the room blur in your vision, and the wooden accents gleam under the gentle lighting. The velvet armchair in the sitting area barely registers as your eyes fixate on the bed. King-sized, it beckons with its plump pillows, and white quilted duvet that looks as inviting as a cloud.

It’s a struggle to set your alarm, the buttons blur and you're not even sure you did it right and you’re too tired to care. Your phone lands on the nightstand with a thud as exhaustion takes over. You collapse on top of the duvet, if you don’t disturb the bed, no one will even know you were here you think.

Your body feels unbearably heavy, limbs unresponsive as you try to shift. Exhaustion pressing down as your head sinks into the pillow and the world fades away. You wait in the calm serenely, but sleep doesn’t come. Its frustrating. Dreams hover just out of reach, fragmenting and fleeting.

The soft click of the lock rouses you from the haze. Your lashes flutter open, each blink heavier than the last as you try to make out the silhouette at the doorway. Light cast a shadow over the figure as it looms quietly. The door shuts with another soft click swallowing the light with it.

Your eyes roll back and you slip back into the void and float in the darkness that surrounds you.

Through the fog you feel the bed whine and dip, gently rocking your body with it. You’re so drowsy, barely aware of what’s happening. You feel your body being shifted, but can’t quite understand why.

Your pants slip away, replaced by soft cool pecks that trail up and down your thigh slowly. Your skin bristles from the touches that trespass over your expose parts.

You mumble grumpily as you feel your thighs spread open wider and wider. Weight holds them apart and the strain begins to tingle painfully.

Desperately, you will yourself to wake up, to snap out of it. You manage to twitch your toes, but nothing else. You're frozen, trapped in your own body.

You cant see it, but you hear the slick sounds of your juices being lapped up gingerly. Your body aches as the darkness dives deep sinking into you tenderly.

It’s not right, it shouldn’t feel so good, but you can’t pull yourself out of it.

Your clit vibrates as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore it, but it’s there. The sensation too intoxicating to bare. Hot breath tickles your tender bud and you moan out helplessly.

The orgasm surges throughout your body, but no sound escapes—your tight throat. Your body buzzes its so electric, but fleeting. Warmth wraps around you sinkingly, weighing you down, drifting you back into the void.

🌺

[rafesslxt]

Just checking in that you ok girly 😊 here's some funny pictures to cheer u up. Feel free 2 uses any

Thank you so fucking much for checking in so often 😭 this made me cry and smile so much cause i‘m so thankful for those random check ins even tho it‘s just over the internet. Especially because of that K think because u could just forget but somehow you still manage to check in on me. 🙏🏻

And yes I am ok. It‘s hard but I‘m slowly healing and working on me and my life. It‘s getting better 🫶🏻🩷

Thank you again 🥹🥹🩷🩷🩷

xoxo sarah <3

[maybege]

Hi, May! How are you?

I just came back from a Taylor Swift Club Night and it was so fun!! (Really gotta thank my therapist for talking me through my anxieties and encouraging me to go 😅☺️)

But anyways, i just wanted to check in how you’re doing since the club night made me think of you, since you’re going to one of Taylor’s shows 🙈

I hope you have a fun week ahead of you 🧡🧡

Hellooooo!! Taylor Swift Club Night you say? 👀 How was it? I was at a thing like that last year where they played her songs so you could sing along with it and it was glorious! So yay for you tackling things that are a little bit out of your comfort zone 🥳🥰

Otherwise I’m doing really well! I watched Dune 2 this week and am so happy that I got to see it!

[swayhere]

open to: anyone, any gender, ages 24-30-ish muse: sarah walker (canon character from 'chuck' but you do not need to know her or source material whatsoever), 26, bisexual, cia agent plot: i am a spy working for the cia. you got caught up in something (mun can decide but here's some ideas- criminal turned asset, genius tech creator being targeted by adversaries, regular person who stumbled upon the wrong high security information and is now in danger, etc.) i have been assigned as your handler for your protection and neither of us are super happy about it. @indiestarter

"you're really lucky. the agency must be trying hard to keep you happy," sarah tucked a few strands of hair away behind her ear as she spoke. "they're actually letting you have some kind of say in our cover story. i get a say, too, of course," she quickly added. sarah had read up on the asset. she'd been studying them for the last 48 hours to make sure she knew enough to integrate into their life and mitigate any threats that may pop up in the near future. she knew better than to give them control and let them run with it.

"the options are roommates - i'd be new to town and you just happened to be looking for a new place. match made in heaven." she gave a small eye roll but tried to hide it. "i could be your new girlfriend, which is actually less invasive believe it or not - i wouldn't have to live with you, but i could stay over when necessary." sarah paused before offering the final option, which was her least favorite because it provided the least amount of security. "there's a coffee shop next to your work. i could secure a job there, but i would rarely have direct eyes on you. the agency would require you to come by for frequent check ins."

[embodies]

o'leary mountain has come a long way since the good old days — once a watchtower and a dream between two drifters with not much more than a couple of beer bottles and gas cans to speak of, now a full - fledged safehouse with a small community within its walls. he still rejects this leader thing, preferred his days of walking in the shadows, coming into camps with a nod of the head in greeting and some freaker ears thrown on the table for easy cash. he's not one of the mongrels for nothing. but no matter how hard he may try to cling onto the scraps of his nomad ways, it is he that is called when there is a situation at the gate. it is he that surveys from the watchtower, hands cupping around his eyes to see better, face pressed against the glass. from afar, it looks like a lone freaker — but that doesn't make any sense, why wouldn't they just shoot it already, huh ? whadda they need me for, that . . . it doesn't add up.

he's already cloaking himself in leather vest and grabbing a pistol, takes the stairs two at a time and bustles past the brewing commotion. he doesn't realise it's her at first, that classic ponytail fallen out and the remaining strands matted with blood and shit and whatever else, but it is the recognition in her own eyes that leaves him with pause. an unmistakable glint that precedes her relief, and before he has time to even process it, she's plummeting to the ground. ❛ lucky— ! ❜ it's a cry, as if he can somehow stop the fall, knees buckling into a sprint to close the distance and cradling a body already so beaten that the landing must not have done much more damage than was already evident. it's a miracle she's still alive.

❛ lucky, lucky, lucky— grab addy, quick ! ❜ it's called over his shoulder, frantic ( pitiful that the closest thing they have to a doctor is a veterinarian ) as he conducts his own checks. heartbeat, faint, fleeting. like a baby bird, hardly a thrum, a whisper. checks her airway, her pupils, before the thought comes unbidden. bite, bite - bite - bite - fuck, is she bitten ? please, god, don't let her be bitten. likely looks like a man half - crazed as she inspects each of her limbs, her neck, her face, lifts each garment in turn until there's hardly an inch of skin he hasn't covered. his forehead is beaded with sweat by the time a sigh gushes from him, satisfied she's at least clean of that. thank you, thank you, thank you. she is taken away under addison's guidance before he can process anything else.

( and the rest is a blur. )

he's lost track of how long he's been at her bedside, cracking his knuckles, pacing, greeting check - ins from sarah, boozer, rikki. when consciousness makes a debut, he's cautious, hitch in his breath as he takes a step back. he would dare not speak in case it ruptured this new milestone of progress, but he can't help himself. he doesn't escalate beyond a low murmur, doesn't want to startle her in her current condition. she looks so frail, a husk of the lara croft he has grown to know.

❛ hey, hey— it's okay, you're safe, it's— it's deacon, you're at o'leary mountain, okay ? you're alright. you're gonna be okay. ❜ he doesn't know if at this point the reassurance is for her or himself, each life lost a personal tally to his own name nowadays. a leader's responsibility, there it is again. following him like a cloud.

@croftborn.

[therealgchu]

Combined Snippet Sunday and WIP Wednesday

so, a little late, and a little early. thanks @fangbangerghoul for the tag!

i had a lovely 4-day weekend doing NOTHING but playing starfield, and then stuffing my face with texas de brazil on the 24th, and sushi on the 25th. i also, frankly, didn't get much writing done. i do have a chapter on the editing board, almost ready to be posted, but i wanted to wait until i have the next chapter at least drafted, which i did this weekend. plus, a bunch of outlines and notes. so, somewhat productive?

anyway, you can check out the prologue and first chapter of my fic, To the Shore over on ao3

without further ado, onto the snippet/wip!

Akila

Hwa was always a late riser, and today was no different. She and Sarah returned the previous evening at almost midnight after successfully retrieving another artifact. Hwa was thankful and pleased that she had her own room at the Lodge. Sarah reassured her that, yes, the room was hers to decorate as she liked, within reason. After the artifact was placed with the others, and she performed her perfunctory check-ins with the other members, she almost ran to her new room. As soon as she got in, she made sure the door was shut and locked. She threw her haversack on the bed and stripped down to only a skimpy tank top and panties.

This was the first time she had a bedroom all to herself in years. And, it was a HUGE bedroom. The bed was a king sized bed, full dresser and bureau, bookshelves, sitting chair, and even a safe. On Neon, only the very wealthiest, like executives at Ryujin or Syndicate heads, lived like this. However, she had since learned that, while this was larger and nicer appointed than most homes, homes in New Atlantis for average people were still quite a cut above anything in Neon. Even living accommodations in the Well, where she actually felt more comfortable, were nicer than Neon.

Hwa dumped out the contents of her haversack on the bed and started taking inventory of the treasures she found. There were a lot of Chunks food, which was great because they were hermetically sealed and could be squirreled away. She ate some Chunks chicken, and wrapped up the rest in a towel. While the safe was nice, she was more than cognizant of how easy it was to break into one. No, she thought, needed a better place. Instead she’d prized up a floorboard under her bed. It was here that she stashed her food supplies. Sure, it was cliched, but no one would ever think to look there, at least not these rich people; they’d check the safe, first.

She picked up the wooden duck and arranged it on the bench at the foot of her bed. The light planetarium was placed on one of the bookshelves. But her prize for the mission was down at the bottom - a ParsecPooch plushie. She shook it and giggled delightedly at the 8-bit music, and squeezed it tightly to her chest. Hwa kicked the haversack onto the floor, stripped naked, crawled under the covers, and curled up around the plushie.

[popculturelib]

It's Barbie Week at the Browne Popular Culture Library!

Although Barbie is widely known as a children's toy, there is a sizeable collector's market for Barbie dolls, and we have quite a few comprehensive books about Barbie, her friends, and accessories. They're quite helpful for people who want to learn about the history of specific dolls, design changes, and pricing.

We also have several catalogs directed at serious Barbie collectors looking for exclusive dolls and items. These are often higher quality than Barbie dolls meant to be played with -- some are made of porcelain instead of plastic. Many collector edition Barbies are tie-ins with other media or reproductions of vintage dolls. Below is one of our catalogs from 2003:

Here's a page from the catalog, chosen because the person who runs this account played with a Rapunzel Barbie when she was younger (though a way less fancy version):

A different catalog shows off more collector's edition dolls, such as a Bob Mackie Circus Barbie, complete with a swing (left) and a pair of dolls commemorating the marriage of Prince William and Kate Middleton (right):

For more information about these items, check out our catalog listings below the read more.

The Browne Popular Culture Library (BPCL), founded in 1969, is the most comprehensive archive of its kind in the United States.  Our focus and mission is to acquire and preserve research materials on American Popular Culture (post 1876) for curricular and research use. Visit our website at https://www.bgsu.edu/library/pcl.html.

Books:

The Wonder of Barbie: Dolls & Accessories, 1976-1986 (1987) by Paris & Susan Manos

The World of Barbie Dolls (1983) by Paris & Susan Manos

The Barbie Doll Years: A Comprehensive Listing & Value Guide of Dolls & Accessories (2001) by Patrick C. Olds and Joyce L. Olds

The Collectors Encyclopedia of Barbie Dolls and Collectibles (1985) by Sibyl DeWein and Joan Ashabraner

Barbie Doll & Her Mod, Mod, Mod, Mod World of Fashion, 1967-1972: Price Guide (1996) by Joe Blitman

Barbie Fashion (1990) by Sarah Sink Eames

Barbie Exclusives: Identification & Values (1995) by Margo Rana

Catalogs:

Barbie Collectibles by Mail, Spring 2003

Barbie Collector, Holiday 2010 and Spring 2012

[justagalwhowrites]

HIIIIII I hope you’re doing well and I have a question about Lavender so I’ve been rereading from ch 1 and I got to Ellie introduction and that got me thinking about Doc and Joels own little bean so I wanted to ask what your thoughts were on the story if Doc hadn’t miscarried in the qz what do you think would or wouldn’t have been different not really an ask just looking for an opinion 😊

OMG Hi Bestie!

So, funny story, you're not the first person to ask this lol! There's another ask like this in my inbox right now and I keep thinking through it because IT'S SO HARD TO ANSWER. I am planning to write a one shot of this soon (probably before the end of Lavender?) and explore this possibility?

I think it would have been different. A few things that I've kind of solidified so far:

Doc and Andrew just cohabitate in this version. They don't try to function separately really at all. They're both traumatized and she's fucking terrified about having a kid on her own and when Andrew was like "well I had a little sister, I can help..." she JUMPS ON THAT (which he's thrilled about because he does NOT want to be on his own either.) It makes for some very awkward introductions when Joel comes to the QZ.

Joel still would have had a VERY hard time but it would have been masked for longer as he lived for his daughter. He probably would have settled into one of the gigs Doc helped line up for him, for example. There would have been a weird housing situation for a while where Joel was living with Tommy to try to help get Evie acclimated to him being around without just moving him in right away and Joel would have felt some type of way about another man living with his girls when he couldn't. His melt down about tying the pregnancy to losing Sarah would have been different because he'd be so absorbed by his kid's existence that everything else would go by the wayside.

I'm unsure about if he and Doc would have split up or not. I think he'd - at best - have been really distant from her for a while and she would just be hanging on for dear life trying to make it work. Andrew would want to deck him a lot. Jess would be doing a lot of check ins and Doc would insist everything was fine. If they split, they'd have seen a LOT more of each other because of Evie and would have ended up fucking a ton because it would have just happened.

Doc and Tommy would never have been a thing. Joel would have been more present in Doc's life which would have her blinders on toward Tommy at the very least if not all other men in general, plus the fact that she's the mother of his niece would have taken that right off the table. They are still very close friends. Tommy still thinks Joel is a fucking dumbass.

Ultimately, they'd end up together and happy sooner than they did in Lavender. Something would snap Joel out of his own head when it comes relating to Doc and being vulnerable in his love for her - potentially the explosion at the FEDRA facility that almost killed her. He can't cut ties with her the way he does in Lavender because of their shared child (who, we all know, he would NEVER cut off) so he'd be stuck with some proximity to her and that would break him. Like literally break him for a bit, he'd be a WRECK for a hot minute. (Related, Joel would beat the SHIT out of Tommy for the bombing in this reality - Evie could have been with her mother and just damn.)

More minor but McCarthy would have gotten his shit rocked right there on the street with Doc in this reality lmfao. Doc probably would have told Joel about it eventually, Joel would have known who he was and he'd have taken him apart then and there.

Sooooo yeah! More to come on this relatively soon. I've already started kind of drabbling on Joel meeting Evie in this version and I'm really enjoying that!!

Thank you so much for reading and reaching out! Love you!!

[gucciwins]

how are Harry and bel? Strong as ever? some fights in between? Is she travelling with Harry for the last leg?

We miss them 😭🫶

makes me so happy to know you still love them. I've got no plans to write for them again but check-ins are always fun 💜

Bel and Harry I feel do not fight (after all the big fights I’ve given them not anymore). The only thing they bicker about is Harry being jealous when she goes out with friends and she’s in a different country because he selfishly wants her at every show but he knows she has a life around him. Bel will send him updates and he’ll be like “come home to me.” Followed by “I know you can’t. I love you.” 

Bel also felt awful not being able to be there for the entire final leg so she always does something for each show and gets them special desserts made. She sends the entire crew care packages and Harry always had a bouquet of flowers waiting for him in his dressing room. 

She has been to a few shows. Bel will of course be at Slane Castle because she knows the history and how important it is. He didn’t ask her to be there but she wanted to. She’s going to all of Wembley because it’s home for them. Then she’ll go off to do a bit of promo and come back to Austria to finish off the leg for him. 

During each show, there is a mention of her.

“My girlfriend has been looking for a top like that!” 

“The flowers are amazing. Bel delivers some everyday to me.”

“Are you crying to fine line? My girlfriend too.” 

“Rock paper scissors. You lose, you call Bel. She’s sleeping right now or I would.” 

“Can you dance salsa? Bel taught us all.”

“Does Bel love Mitch or Sarah more? It’s Sarah.”

“Bring Bel out? She’s not even here.” 

“My girlfriend told me the hiddies needed to make an appearance.”