#bingo would be a lot better for my nerves

[molliemoo3]

Feels like we're playing bingo with the order restart list being read out by Scot

[shaunamilfman]

after midnight

pairing: jackieshauna x reader summary: You get a little too drunk at a party and end up kissing Jackie Taylor, who you mistook for someone else. Just to make sure that Shauna isn't too mad at you, you kiss her too. note: yeah, based off that twitter post.

You focus all of your attention on the ceiling fan, watching as the blades blur together in an endless loop. You’re strangely mesmerized by the action, letting yourself be drawn into it in the hopes it’ll distract you from your pounding headache or the anxious feeling in your chest. The sound of Nat clattering around in the kitchen breaks your concentration, slowly drawing your attention back to reality.

With a pained groan, you finally drag yourself out of bed, stumbling to your bathroom knowing that at least one of the things bothering you had a simple solution. You blindly reach into the medicine cabinet, briefly glancing at the bottle before dry swallowing the pills that will be your salvation from your headache. 

You lean against the sink with a sigh of relief, looking at yourself in the mirror before quickly looking away. God, you looked like shit. 

A sudden realization dawns on you, a sinking feeling filling your stomach as you slowly look back at your reflection. You turn your head to the side, your eyes widening as you catch sight of the unmistakable traces of lipstick along your neck.

You fumble around for a rag, drawing Nat’s attention from the kitchen as you knock a few bottles off the counter.

“Hey?” she calls out, unaware of your turmoil as you scrub at your neck to get the mark off.

“Hey,” you answer, hesitant and unsure as you take one last look in the mirror before joining her in the kitchen.

She grins as she catches sight of you, a quick flick of her eyes up and down your disheveled form before she slides a cup of coffee across the counter towards you without a word. You’re quick to grab it, almost downing it in your haste to get something, anything, in your stomach. 

The memory of last night hangs over you like a fog, each moment shrouded in uncertainty and a lingering feeling that you’d fucked something up. If only you could remember it. You’d woken up with a bitter taste on your tongue, serving as a stark reminder of your excess from the night before. You knew better than to drink like that, knew it always got you in trouble, but you figured you just needed a little courage and then… 

Then everything fell apart.

You were surprised to find yourself still in one piece this morning, so you supposed it hadn’t been a complete disaster. The text you had woken up to did a lot to assuage your nerves, but it was the lipstick stain on your neck that had you sure that the night had actually gone well. You weren’t quite sure how you pulled it off, but you quickly decided a win was a win. 

Now your problem was just piecing together how the night ended.

“So?” Nat prompts, drawing your attention as you warm your hands on the quickly cooling cup. “How did it go?”

“Funny you ask that, actually,” you begin, the words tumbling out in a rush as you brace yourself for her reaction.

Nat groans, propping her head up on her hands as she looks you over. “What's that mean?” She sounds interested despite herself. 

“So I may or may not be dating Jackie and Shauna now.”

She's quiet for a long moment, her jaw dropped as she processes the news. “What the fuck? How?” she finally manages to sputter, her voice tinged with incredulity.

“So I got, like, really drunk last night–” 

“I remember,” Nat says wryly. 

“Right. Well, you know how me and that girl from my math class have had this thing going on–” 

“I'm not seeing what this has to do with Jackie and Shauna.”

“If you would just let me finish…”

…

You finish what's left in your cup before leaving it on the table, looking around for her familiar jacket before you find her. 

Bingo. You spot her off further in, her denim jacket and blonde hair catching the dim light. It seemed a little darker than usual, honestly, but you figured it was just the light. You take a deep breath and try to steady your shaking hands before just stuffing them in your pockets. Now or never.

This wasn’t the most well thought out idea, you knew that, but it was definitely the best one you had. Toss a few drinks back and get enough courage to finally kiss Jenny from your math class. Easy enough in theory, right? She told you to come find her at the party, practically insisted on it really, but you were still so fucking nervous at the thought of it. The thought of her smile, and the way she always looked at you in class, gave you just enough courage to push through the crowd to find her.

You call out her name as you weave through throngs of partygoers, but the music plays so loud you’re not sure if she can even hear you or not. As you reach her, you take a deep breath before putting your hand on her shoulder and spinning her around. Was she a little shorter than usual? Whatever. Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward and kiss her.

She makes a squeaking noise as you do, her hands slapping against your shoulders as she pushes you away. You stumble backward and nearly fall on your ass, a little offended as you look at her. 

Jackie stares up at you with smeared lipstick and wide-eyes as the gravity of the situation slowly dawns on you. Oh God, that was Jackie Taylor. You just kissed Jackie Taylor and Shauna Shipman was going to kill you. You were too young to die.

That definitely wasn’t Jenny. You’d definitely had one too many if you thought that Jackie looked anything like the girl from your math class.

“What the fuck?” Shauna spits, her jaw clenched and her hands balled up in a fist. She grabs a fist full of your shirt, pulling you towards her as she gets up in your face. You can smell the alcohol on her breath as she gets near, a mix of malibu and rage.

You try to stutter out an apology, but the words keep catching in your throat. It feels like your tongue just won’t cooperate with you, leaving you defenseless in your time of need. Her grip on your shirt tightens, her knuckles turning white as she gives you the meanest look you’ve ever seen another person make that wasn’t a TV serial killer.

“Shauna–” Jackie tries, stepping forward and putting a hand on her arm, but Shauna’s too mad to even entertain her.

“Did you seriously just do that in front of me?” Shauna’s so mad she can barely speak, the disbelief on her face saying more than words ever could. Her eyes are so intense, a fire burning behind them that makes you wish you could disappear.

“You’re unbelievable.” Shauna’s voice is low and dangerous, and you can feel the heat of her anger radiating off her. You can’t think of any way to get out of this situation without getting burned.

Unless…

You make a split second decision as you lunge forward at Shauna. This was a fucking disaster, but man would you have one hell of a story if you could live to tell it.

… 

“... and that's when I realized that I just kissed Jackie Taylor.”

“Holy shit, dude!” Nat laughs, her expression an equal mix of pride and amusement. 

“God. I know,” you groan, burying your head in your hands as you flush in embarrassment. 

“So what happened next?”

“So Shauna's got a fistful of my shirt, right? I'm realizing that, holy shit, she's about to beat my ass. So I do the only thing I can do.”

“What's that?

“Well…” 

… 

You lunge forward and kiss Shauna too, catching her by surprise. She’s frozen solid as you press your lips together, and for an instant you think she’s just going to punch you anyway. Shauna’s hand releases your shirt in surprise, her hands flailing for a moment before reaching up and resting on the side of your head. 

You’d read in a Wikipedia article once during a time of late-night procrastinating that it was virtually impossible for a human to snap someone else’s neck, but if anyone was capable of that, it would definitely be Shauna Shipman. Much to your surprise, you don’t end up dead on the floor; instead, her surprisingly soft hands cup your face with more gentleness than you thought she was capable of.

It’s nothing like the quick kiss you’d shared with Jackie; she’s aggressive and intense. Every movement is met with a swift reaction, as if she takes it as a challenge. Her lips are soft and taste like strawberry lip-gloss and you idly wonder whether it belonged to her or Jackie originally.

She bites at your lip hard as the kiss ends, enough that you’re sure she’s broken the skin. You can feel the sting of it long after she’s backed away, sharing a look with Jackie that you’re too much in shock to pay attention to. You’re left reeling, trying to process the rapid turn of events even though you’d been mostly responsible for them.

You manage to sneak a glance at Shauna, figuring that at least you would see it coming when she inevitably broke your nose. She gives you a dark look, and it’s hard to tell whether she’s flustered or angry.

“Shauna,” Jackie chides. “You don’t have to be so rough with her. She’s not going anywhere.” 

Shauna’s tense posture relaxes slightly at Jackie’s words, but not fully. They seem to have a conversation with nothing but their expressions, something that you weren’t fully privy to. 

Without a word spoken to you, Jackie steps forward and kisses you again. It’s better this time, more deliberate than the quick peck you’d managed before. It felt reassuring, a tenderness that your kiss with Shauna was sorely lacking. Her arms come up to rest behind your shoulders, pulling you chest-to-chest as she kisses you so gently you almost want to cry.

You can practically feel the weight of Shauna’s eyes on you, but it doesn’t seem nearly as heavy as it did before: less threatening, and more curiosity. Her gaze is unwavering as she assesses the situation, stepping closer toward you and leaving you caught between the two of them as your mind races.

Jackie breaks the kiss slowly, giggling as she has to press a hand against your shoulder to stop you from trying to chase after her. She’s close enough that your breath is mingling together, pulling just far away enough to speak as she gives Shauna a knowing look. “See? It doesn’t have to be a fight every time.”

“She’s okay, isn’t she?” Shauna asks, the question posed more as a challenge than any real attempt at concern. Her eyes search yours, trying to find out what you’re thinking without having to actually ask. You nod slightly, giving her the permission she seems to seek. She’s just as formidable as ever, but this time her approach is slower. More deliberate.

“Yeah,” you mutter simply, nodding dumbly as Jackie tuts and pulls your attention back on her with a single finger on your chin.

Shauna huffs, finally closing the distance between you as she presses up against your back. “Good,” she whispers, her lips brushing your ear as she speaks.

Jackie rests her hand behind your neck as she pulls you into another kiss, somehow more demanding than the last. You can’t help but melt into it, immediately responding to the touch. Shauna laughs softly behind you, pressing a kiss against Jackie’s fingers before she finds her way to the side of your neck.

The two of them together are intense, overwhelming in a way that leaves you utterly breathless and lagging a half-second behind. It’s almost too much, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away for anything.

Shauna bites down gently, just enough to leave a mark. You gasp, the sound swallowed by Jackie’s lips. 

“Relax,” Jackie murmurs.

Then everything after that is a blur.

… 

“... I kissed Shauna too.”

Nat laughs so hard she nearly falls out of her chair. She manages to get out a few words in between peels of near hysterical laughter. “You kissed Shauna? Are you insane?” 

“Honestly, probably. I certainly felt like it at the time, Nat. But here’s the crazy part: she freezes, and for a second it’s like time stops, but then she kisses me back!”

“No fucking way Shauna Shipman kissed you.”

“Look, I know! That’s what I was thinking too,” You snicker, shaking your head. “So there I am, kissing Shauna and waiting for her to come to my senses with Jackie’s lipstick still on my lips. But then I pull back and see Jackie standing there just staring with this look of… I don’t know, I can’t even name it.”

“And?”

“So, Jackie says something to Shauna that I couldn’t quite make out and they just kind of nodded and before I knew it, Jackie was all over me too.”

Nat’s jaw drops as she leans forward to look at you. “Jackie too?”

“Jackie too,” you confirm. “Yeah, but it gets weirder. See, Jackie pulls away to look at Shauna again and there’s this moment where I’m like ‘Well, now they’re going to kill me together.’ But then they both just kind of smile at me?”

Nat breathes out slowly, eyes wide with shock. “What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea. I know something must have happened after that, but it’s all blurry after that. All the booze caught up to me.”

“What makes you think you’re dating them, then? It seems like you just got a lucky break that Shauna wasn’t close enough to a knife to stab your dumb ass.”

“See, that’s what I would think to,” you say, pulling out your phone as you scroll through your messages. “But I woke up this morning to a text in a group chat all like ‘hope you get home safe, babe.’” 

You hold the phone up for Nat to see, and she quickly snatches it from you as she looks through it. Her eyes scan the screen, her disbelief slowly turning into astonishment.

“Holy shit,” she mutters, slowly scrolling through the chat. “They both texted you. Jackie even sent you a selfie of her and Shauna together with a ‘we missed you at breakfast’ caption.”

“What?” You ask, leaning forward to read over Nat’s shoulder. That one was new– you must’ve gotten it while you were talking to Nat.

“I don’t even remember leaving?” You mutter.

“This is unreal,” Nat says, handing you your phone back as she lazes back in the chair. “You better figure your shit out before Jackie gets her feelings hurt.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “No kidding.”

You bite your lip before quietly admitting, “I kind of like it.”

Nat snorts, shaking her head slowly.

[rookiesbookies]

please please please write a piece where sex doll soap is dominant please please please

also how does this work? is he sentient? does he have emotions? is he ai?

if you dont want to write a pt II id also take a sex doll price

You got Sex Doll Price! Bingo!

So I saw your question and I outlined how it works more in this post (if you havent seen it) and Im getting ready to write the Konig piece, however I want to make it really special so im going to hype it up a bit more and here’s a Price one because I felt like writing him!

I totally forgot this was in my drafts btw

Price’s story of getting bought goes much like all the other’s. His lady is lonely one night, flips through some infomercials because there’s nothing good on and she figured they’d be entertaining she guessed? It was a better idea than Steinfeld reruns for the fifteenth time, and nothing streaming was updated or good. It was a rare mood.

It came on for the dolls and she fell in love with the way he moved, smiled, his eyes. It was like the tv knew how much she loved the soft eyes of an older man.

She slid off her couch and onto the floor before she punched in the number on the phone to call, saying she wanted Price.

It took time before he was there. She felt different, he has been marketed as a companion robot on the tv. One that could walk, talk, cook, clean. It would be nice having someone to take care of the house while she was at work.

When the mystery box was on her doorstep with the gibberish, she assumed what it was based on the size.

It took a long time of struggling to get it through the door. She tore into it almost immediately. She didnt even get him out of the box before she planted a soft kiss to his lips, just as the commercial said. His eyes fluttered open and she was met with the same soft eyes she first saw.

He was swift. Reconnecting his lips to her and moving out of his box without much effort. She slid back to make room for his large form, when she hit the wall he crawled over her.

“I was told you were a companion,” she said softly eyes, trained on his lips then flicking up to his eyes.

“Companions do lots of different things. There are plenty of different types of companions, love.” His rough hands came up to her face, thumb grazing over her lower lip. “It just so happens to be my directive to be a certain kind of companion.”

Her body felt like it was on air the whole time, like her nerves were cushioned by personal clouds as he worked.

He was swift, putting her on her hands and knees before working off her pants and underwear. His mouth connected with her lower lips and began work. He was delicate but hungry.

Once he got her what he deemed wet enough he used his knee to move her thighs apart, pulling his pants down.

“Breath, love.” He whispered sweetly into her ear after spitting into his hand, rubbing it over his cock, “remember to breath.”

He let it rest in her for a long time. She fell onto her forearms, debating letting her mouth hang open so drool could fall.

He was rhythmic and juicy. Everything she imagined. She was so high up she almost didn’t register she was about to cum until it happened. He didn’t seem to orgasm, surprisingly, but he didn’t seem to care, maybe he did - well she had no clue. He picked her up and wondered her home until he found the bathroom, drawing her bath before washing her gently and putting her to better not long after drying her.

Worth every penny.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Free Ride

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Free Ride Masterlist

Summary: Your taxi driver is surprisingly familiar.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Set in London, Jake is driving a black cab in my mind for some reason.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, kisses, awkward silences, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1161

You got into the cab quickly, the cold night air raking its nails over your skin. You pulled your coat a little higher and shivered. 

The bar crawl hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Two of your friends had had to check out early, and a third had hooked up with someone they’d met while getting a round. You’d decided to call it a night.  

“Hi,” you greeted the driver, about to give your address when you pause in surprise. “Steven?” 

Jake freezes, watching your reflection in the rear view mirror. 

“Steven Grant, you, you live on the floor above me.” You smile. “I didn’t realise you drove a cab?” 

He swallows, raising his chin up in a nod, his mind racing. He’d left it far too long to deny it. “I… just, part time.” He spoke quietly, adding a croak to his voice to disguise the difference in accent. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah… cold.” He tapped his throat, “so, erm, home?”

You nod, “yeah. Sorry you’re unwell, hope you feel better soon.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.” 

You nod again, something about the energy in the cab seemed… odd. Different. You were on pretty good terms with Steven since he’d helped you out when you were lugging your shelves up the stairs (they were too wide for the lift.) You chatted when you ran into each other going out or coming back. Somehow you both usually ended up going to the local sainsbury’s at the same time for your weekly shop and had kind of settled into a not exactly planned routine where you would wait for each other and do it together. 

Steven talked. A lot. In the best way possible. Excitedly and passionately. Bubbly and enthusiastic. He genuinely listened as well, asking follow up questions and nodding. But even when he was listening, he wasn’t quiet. Always adding in ‘hmms’ and ‘oh right’, and little snippets of commentary that warmed your heart. 

Now he was quiet. Pulled in and zipped up. 

Maybe it was just the cold making his throat hurt. You’d have to get him something to help, maybe tomorrow you could knock on with some ginger, lemon, and honey tea. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You stilt your head to the side as you watch him drive. He takes a turn smoothly, travelling down the late night roads without as much as a pause. Or a word. 

It just didn’t make sense. 

How unlike Steven he was being. You pause, for a second entertaining the idea that he wasn’t actually him. But that made no sense did it? He’d have to be an identical twin, and besides, he was talking you back to your flat. If he wasn't Steven, how would he know where you lived? 

“I didn’t know you could drive?” You say, speaking up a little to try to hide the spike of nervousness that had settled in your gut. You had been so sure that he’d told you he couldn’t… though had that just been an excuse? A reason to tag along with you when you went food shopping? Was his quietness now embarrassment from being caught out? 

“Hmm,” he nodded, glancing back at you again in the rear view mirror. “I don’t mention it… much.” 

You nod. “Yeah.” You pick at your fingernails as he drums his hands against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. 

The silence stretches out, almost blanketing the low grumble of the engine. It’s sickening. Nerve wrecking. 

“How’s work?” You blurt out, and then quickly clarify. “Both I mean, how’s driving going today and how’s the museum?” He glances back at you again, the action is starting to remind you of a priest in a confessional. 

“It’s all… normal.”

“Normal?” 

“Fine. Normal.”

You don’t speak again until he pulls up by the block of flats, putting on the handbrake and getting into neutral. He puts his hands on his lap, folded neatly with his palms facing upwards.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask.

“Nothing.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s on me.” 

“Stev-”

He turns quickly, flicking off his seatbelt in a practised move so that he can twist his body fully around to face you. 

For a moment you think he’s going to say something, reveal some grand secret but instead he pauses before giving you a very weak smile.

“It’s on me.” His voice is quiet, barely there at all. And, for the briefest second you could have sworn that his accent was different. 

“Thank you.” 

He shrugs politely, dismissing it as if it was nothing. 

Before he can turn away you reach out for his shoulder, the action instinctive and leaving you lost for a reason why you did it.  

He glances at your hand for a second before looking back to your face. 

You lean forward. “Thank you.” You repeat softly, and slowly kiss his left cheek, giving him plenty of time to pull away and rebuff you if he wanted to. 

Instead he leans slightly into the touch, swallowing and turning his head towards you. His nose brushes against yours and you think he’s going to turn back to facing the wheel, but instead he presses his lips to yours hesitantly. 

You squeeze his arm, surprised but responsive as you kiss him back. 

He kisses you slowly, but intentionally. Swiping the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip before opening your mouth with his own and licking inside. He groans, low in his chest as the kiss becomes hungrier, boarding on desperation as he presses as close to you as he physically can in his position. 

When suddenly he pulls back, blinking heavily. A mumbled, ‘sorry’, just escaping his lips. 

“It’s okay.” Your voice is quiet too, your mind only just catching up with what happened. 

He turns back, putting his seatbelt on with a click and staring straight ahead. “Have a good night.” 

“I, erm, I’ll see you later.” You mutter as you get out, feeling almost shaky from what just happened. Your thoughts reeling. 

You get up to your flat in a daze. You’d kissed him, well, he’d kissed you. Did that mean anything? Had you done something to chase him off? 

You change into your pyjamas and brush your teeth, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

There’s a soft knock at your front door and you freeze. Wait. 

Maybe it’s a neighbor's door. Maybe it’s noise from another flat.

There’s a knock again, still soft and your phone buzzes. A message from Steven, ‘can we talk?’ 

Fuck. 

You head to the door, checking the peep hole and confirming that yes, it is Steven outside your door. You unlock and open it quickly. 

“Steven, I-”

You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before he moves forward quickly and kisses you deeply. His hands settle on your hip, the back of your neck as he walks you further inside and kicks the door shut with the heel of his foot. 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“Person of Interest” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part 3 (Final) of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series (Read Part 1 Here, Read Part 2 Here)

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader 

Tags: Fluff and Flirting, First Kiss (Finally! Get it Beau!)

Word Count: 2300

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Anonymous Gifts/Flowers" square.

Writing about Beau for the first time was so much fun. He's got such a sweet, gentle, charming, goofy way about him on the show. I am at least making sure in my story that Beau gets his kiss. (I have also been asked by a friend to maybe have a little "Big Sky After Dark" epilogue at some point. Will see.) I've gotten a lot of inspiration from my bingo card. Thoroughly enjoyed participating and hope to mark off every square... at some point.

Also, diving into Helena history for this date I came a lot of interesting facts and fun places along Last Chance Gulch Street.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: “Big Sky”/ABC)

Since you’d asked Beau out on a date - apparently, that was news to you - it was also up to you to pick the when and where. That was how he'd left it that night around the fire, anyway, with a wink and a smile. 

It had been a busy few days after the fourth of July for the both of you. But, you’d settled on a Sunday evening, crossing fingers there were no abductions or bank robberies.

There was never a dull moment in Helena.

You’d decided on a time and place. The plan was to meet at The Windbag Saloon and Grill. You sat at the bar, sipping your Huckleberry Mule.

Your eyes dart to the door every time it swishes open. When you finally spot him entering, a sharp inhale steadies you. The nerves that wound you up all day threaten to release fast enough to spin you like a top upon the stool.

His gaze skates over the scene once, twice. The double-take and zoning in on your face when he clocks you forces you to exhale. You wish it didn’t sound like a frightened puppy. Thank goodness he can’t hear it. Recollection fills his face, and that sunbeam smile melts you.

He takes the stroll over. You internally confirmed sitting at the farthest end of the bar was the right decision. It gives you ample time to enjoy the view of the sheriff and prepare to be devastated by all that handsome up close. 

He has a full, bouncy head of hair you’d kill for. Scratch that. You’d kill to run your fingers through it. His denim jacket with a fleece collar and hints of the warm and fuzzy liner has you imagining him offering it to you on a chilly walk. You only want to get a better look at the broad shoulders and chest underneath. The shine of his silver belt buckle directs you further south for probably a second longer than would have been appropriate to stare.

You sip a little more liquid courage.

“Did I get the time wrong?” he asks, confused and already looking apologetic when he meets you at the bar. He strums a few fingers on the countertop.

“Nope.” With a head shake, you offer the adjacent stool with an outstretched hand. “I was extra early. And you were early.”

He sighs and slides in beside you. “If you’re early, you’re on time. That’s what I was taught, anyway.”

“Slow day at the office?” you ask.

The bartender drops a coaster and a napkin in front of Beau and asks what he’s having. He requests a beer, then returns to your question in a flash. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

You decide to try the all-knowing approach. “You had time to have flowers delivered to Linda Devonshire.”

The caught-off-guard smirk gives him away. “Me? Flowers to Linda?” He tuts. “Why would I send flowers to a married woman?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because you were as ecstatic as everyone else in the park, knowing she was packing up and heading back home. I’ll bet you had the date circled on your calendar.” You spin in the seat a fraction. Inadvertently, you swish a knee over his denim-covered thigh while attempting to cross your legs.

He reacts a fraction to the touch, staring at the floor between you. His lips purse, and his brows lower. “Well, being as happy as the rest of those in Black Sandy State Park is not enough motive to suspect I’m the one that sent the flowers. Not very good detective work. Need a little more proof to convict.”

“Hm.” You shrug and wait for him to prod you more for your reasoning.

Instead, he licks his lips and smiles. “I didn’t recognize you dressed as a civilian.”

You straighten up and toss the hair back over your shoulder dramatically. “Didn’t think I could clean up this well?”

He shakes his head, all serious. “Nah. I just didn’t think you could get any prettier.”

That shuts you up.

~

“Yellowfin?” The server asks the both of you, now at a table after finishing your first round of drinks at the bar.

Your hand raises.

After the sandwich plate lands in front of you, the server confirms to Beau, “And the Vigilante for you?”

Beau nods, rubbing hands together, taking in the contents of his meal with high brows. “Yes, indeed.”

“Anything else right now?”

Beau points to you in wait, but you shake your head.

“All good for now, thanks,” he answers.

You groan, looking at Beau’s burger. “There is so much going on over there.”

He lifts the bun. “Yeah. Candied jalapenos. Grilled ham and onions. An over-easy egg.”

“Not to mention the half-pound of beef underneath all that.”

He resituates the bun and wiggles it in place. “Don’t forget the huckleberry barbecue sauce. I may regret it later. Worth it.”

You laugh. “I hope so, for your sake. Otherwise, this may be a pretty early night.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think anything could mess up tonight. Even my poor menu choices.”

The certainty in his voice makes you smile. “Kind of surprising you haven’t stumbled onto this spot yet since you’ve been in town. Considering how close it is to the sheriff’s office.”

“Well, the Boot Heel is where I usually end up with Hoyt and Cassie.”

You nod. “There’s a lot of history along Last Chance Gulch Street. Worth checking out and getting acquainted. Being the new sheriff in town and all.” You bite into a french fry.

“Hey, I did some research.” He clamps his large, beefy hands around the large, beefy burger. “This street was between a bunch of mining claims, where a lot of gold prospectors got rich.” He nods and confirms, “Give me a second with this, if you don’t mind?”

You laugh and wave both hands in permission. “Of course.”

He bites down and chews. Eyes close. Deep in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he mumbles around the burger. “This was the worst idea in the best way.”

“Take it easy there.” You try to jest. Truthfully, you wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying the show.

He swallows and sips on his second beer. “Man, it’s good I walked ten minutes from the office. I’m gonna need fresh air to clear my head and some exercise after all this.”

“Maybe I can interest you in a little walk down Last Chance Gulch after this.” Your suggestion raises his cheeks with a grin. You add, “History lesson and all that to accompany your calorie burning.”

“I’d like that.” He dabs the barbecue sauce off the corner of his mouth. He thumbs towards the outside of the restaurant. “Know who the lady is on The Windbag sign?”

“Oh, that’d be ‘Big Dorothy’.”

“Big Dorothy, huh? She the original owner?”

“Not of the saloon. She ran a business on these premises. Got closed down in 1973.” You sample your sandwich and watch Beau enjoy another bite of his burger. You wait until he’s thoroughly invested in the act, swallow, and then continue. “It was a brothel.”

His face stills in mid-chew.

You giggle.

He exaggerates his munching for a few seconds more.

“The place was called ‘Dorothy’s Rooms’. She was actually very well respected in Helena. Donated to lots of charities, and then the police had to go and raid her establishment and shut it all down. You may wanna tread lightly, Sheriff. Dorothy’s ghost might not appreciate your kind under her roof.”

“Noted.” He clears his throat.

~

Your guided walking tour doesn’t have the intended effect of calorie burning. Instead, you sit with Beau in a green wooden booth at The Parrot Confectionery. You’re splitting a Parrot Special Sundae.

“Oh, man.” Beau indulges in his first spoonful. It’s wondrous to behold how much enjoyment the man has with his food. 

The evening has been filled with light and easy conversation to start. Lots of laughter mixed with information gathering from both of you as the date wore on. You spill about your life, years back, out west. You aren’t ready to divulge much about the relationship you left behind except the marriage had not worked out as expected. Beau’s a bit guarded as well with specific details. Something had happened on the job, though, in Houston. Something alarming enough to have him quit the force. And you think it might be one of the reasons he was now divorced.

Beau’s eyes sparkle. “I’ll have to take Em here.”

You nod. “Definitely.” He lights up every time he talks about his daughter. It’s sweet and makes him even more endearing. It almost makes you feel bad thinking naughty thoughts as his tongue laboriously licks the fudge off his spoon.

“Gotta say, darlin’, it feels like you’ve given me the key to the city tonight.”

“And plenty of indigestion.”

“I told ya. Worth it,” he insists. It’s his turn to watch you eat a few spoonfuls. You focus on the strawberry scoop. He seems to gravitate toward the huckleberry flavor and completely avoid the split banana underneath it all.

“Well, we could walk a little more to the end of the street after this,” you suggest. “I mean, the old fire tower is down that way. But you’ve gotta know about that. Impossible to miss.”

“Oh, yeah, I know all about the Guardian of the Gulch.”

You smile. “Did I forget to mention that Linda Devonshire dropped off the flowers she got to the ranger’s office before she left?”

The spoon Beau is holding clinks the sundae bowl. “You did forget to mention that.”

You swirl your spoon in the vanilla. “Well, she thanked us and said the flowers would probably hold up better staying with us than the trek back home. And she also read the note aloud to see if we had any idea who the anonymous sender was.”

Beau sighs. “Of course she did.”

You tap a finger on your chin. “What was it exactly? Oh, yes. The note said, ‘Thank you for your excellent matchmaking skills. ~ a Guardian of the Gulch’. She was completely perplexed by it. Said she hadn’t gone out of her way to coordinate any dates or encounters in Helena. Didn’t know anyone well enough for that. But we did get to hear about how she’s introduced about a dozen people to their current spouses in her home state.”

Beau lifts both shoulders. A sheepish smile forms. “If it hadn’t been for Linda’s complaints, I might not have gotten all those chances to get to know you a little better. And we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“This all sounds very silver lining thinking.”

“I try. On occasion.”

~

You roll into a parking spot in the lot behind the Sheriff’s office, engine idling. Beau’s in the passenger seat.

“Well, I hope I didn’t keep you out too late.” He leans into the backrest. A couple of creaks emit from his spine. “I appreciate you walking with me up and down Last Chance Gulch after dessert. Between the beer and the beef and the banana split, every step counts.”

You smile. “This was nice. We should do it again sometime.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “I know, you accept.”

The warmth of his fingers gliding over yours, gripping the steering wheel, tingles your skin. Half in the night’s shadow, his face scolds with scrunched lips and slitted lids. “Give a man a chance to ask you out properly, would ya?”

You laugh to soothe your nerves. “I didn’t realize I’d asked you out again. Hell, I didn’t realize I’d asked you out the first time.”

He tilts his head. “I may have pulled the trigger on that one. Guess I’m finding it hard to be patient when it comes to…” He trails off, quiets, and looks serious. You realize he’s staring at your mouth.

“Sheriff!”

You both flinch in your seats. Deputy Poppernak is heading towards the passenger side of your car. Beau straightens, and you oblige the greeting and roll down his window.

“Hey, Poptop.” Beau razzes.

“Thought you’d left hours ago.” Poppernak halts five feet from the car, spots you, and waves. “How’s things going, Ranger?”

“Just fine, Deputy. How about you?” you ask.

“Can’t complain. Done for the day after a lot of paperwork. Headin’ home.”

The three of you nod in unison for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

“Okay.” Poppernak offers a friendly salute. “Night.”

You watch the deputy hop into a family van and drive off rather quickly.

“Well,” Beau sighs, “this is gonna be all over the office in the morning.”

“This?” you question. Beau eyes you. “How do you think they’re gonna classify this?”

He smiles. “Well, I guess this would be me spending some time with a person of interest. And actually, I think I’m gonna need to spend a lot more time with this person of interest. So, would you give me the pleasure of taking you out on another date, darlin’?”

All you can do is nod. His mossy green eyes sparkle. Cool fingertips round the shell of your ear. You shiver as he traces your jawline, moving in to close the gap. And then, nothing but you breathing in his warmth as he exhales softly into the kiss. It’s gentle and careful. But he tests how your lips fit and press against each other from a few angles. He settles for a spell and feasts on your mouth.

He pulls away. His fingers trail from your chin after a sweet pinch. “Are you free next weekend?”

You nod, dazed.

He grins. “Good. I’ll pick you up at your place if you’re comfortable with that?”

You nod again.

“Thank you for the ride.” He hops out of the car and closes the door with a soft click. Leaning into the still-open window he leaves you with, “Be careful headin’ home.”

“You too, Beau.”

He smiles from ear to ear, taps the window sill, and walks to his jeep. You can’t help but wait until he slides into the driver’s seat and gives you a wave. You shift into drive and leave the lot.

You can’t remember much of the actual ride home. Your mind is filled only with thoughts of Sheriff Beau Arlen. They make you smile. Hum along to the radio. You’re light as a feather and full of hope for what’s to come.

All because of a Guardian of the Gulch.

~ The End ~

[abubblingcandle]

For Word Game Wednesday, how about Imagine, Shape and/or Change?

Imagine - from the untitled RoyJamie Bingo Tattoo fic

“Absolutely not!” Roy exclaimed. “Why not!” Jamie yelled back, still holding the sharpie out at the end of his fingers. “You said my right foot was kissed by god. I thought it would be sweet,” Jamie pouted, bottom lip sticking out in a way that usually made Roy acquiesce to anything that the prick wanted but not this. “It is, and that’s exactly the problem. Imagine if something happens to it?” Roy growled. Jamie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Val’s the best. She did all these fine,” he nods his head to his arm. “Yeah but that’s not your legs,” Roy groaned, massaging his temples with one hand as Jamie refused to back down. “It’ll be fine,” he whined. “Your right leg is insured for seventy mil Jamie!” Roy shouted.

Shape - from Where the Hell is the Karma? Ch4

“Jamie is in rough shape. I am not going to beat around the bush with you but there is nothing that won’t be fixed in time. His hands and wrists are the worst of it. They were serious lacerations that went a while without treatment. We think there may be some nerve damage in his hands but surgery can be done to repair it or the nerves will repair themselves in time. He lost a lot of blood and we are replenishing it now,” he gestured to the IV, pausing the morose list. “The wounds to his head were not major but there is likely post-concussion syndrome. The main thing that we are concerned about is undernutrition and the loss of body mass. As I’m sure you know,” his eyes flickered to Roy, “Jamie’s body was used to high intensity exercise and a high calorie intake. Even with a reduction in exercise, Jamie’s body was burning a lot more calories than he was taking in. He has lost a lot of weight and muscle mass. We will have a better picture when he wakes up,” the doctor finished with a little sigh.

Change - from God Forbid You Leave Me (like everybody else did) Ch1

“I want you to hear me out before you laugh but I want to offer for you to come stay with me for a little bit,” Higgins broke the tense silence. “You what mate,” Jamie gawped, unable to decide if he should laugh, smack Higgins round the head or discharge himself against medical advice. In the end he decided to just gawp. “You look like you need a change,” Higgins smiled, Jamie just continued to stare. His brain just didn’t compute. That was such a stupid suggestion that Jamie couldn’t even come up with an acceptable response. “I hate to see someone hurt and I think you could do with some time out of Manchester while you can’t train. A little holiday so to speak,” he added, presumably when Jamie didn’t look like he was capable of answering. “That’s mad,” Jamie eventually stammered out. Maybe it was the painkillers talking hold, he was on the really good stuff so this could easily be a painkiller induced fever dream. Maybe Higgins wasn’t even here and this was all some batshit hallucination.

[thezombieprostitute]

Flowers in Storms

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty​‘s Bingo, again mixing three squares: Friends with benefits, Trapped together, and Flowershop AU. Reader is female.

Warnings: Mentions of the death of a character. Storms and storm damage. Angst.

The bell above your door jingles and you know who it is without even looking up. “Good afternoon, Sheriff. I’ve got your order right here.”

“How do you do that, Y/N?” Lee walks up to the counter, shaking his head. In the years he’s been visiting your flower shop he still hasn’t figured out your secret to knowing he’s the one walking through the door. He’s tried showing up on different days, at different times, in different weather patterns, and you still know it’s him. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me your secret.”

“Maybe someday,” you tease. “In the meantime, here’s your order. Make sure to give her my love while you’re out there.”

Lee nods his thanks and heads on out, pausing to turn back and ask, “are we still on for Tuesday night?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Unless that storm we’re supposed to get gets worse. Then you’ll likely be on call.”

“Thank you, Darlin’” he tips his hat and heads out, flowers in hand. 

It’s been several years since Juanita, Lee’s wife and your best friend, passed on. You were both in a lot of pain at the loss and, after a year, ended up finding comfort in each other. Not a relationship, Lee couldn’t risk looking like he was moving on too quickly, lest he lose his next election. Friends with benefits and it worked for the two of you. 

You both became workaholics when Juanita was buried, burying yourselves in your jobs. It wasn’t healthy and it came to a head when Lee came in to buy flowers on what would’ve been their anniversary. You had told him he needed to take better care of himself and he threw that right back at you. Soon after you both agreed to start meeting up, as friends, just to make sure you each took some time off work. 

Your relationship grew from there but neither of you felt it was right to actually be dating. So you made arrangements, trysts, and other fun things but neither of you asked the other for more. Tuesday would be your next “not-a-date” and you were looking forward to it.

Business was painfully slow Tuesday but that didn’t surprise you. That storm was building and people were prepping for the worst. Lee had called and told you he was on call for the night and you reassured him you’d be home by the time the really bad winds hit.

Unfortunately you weren’t paying as much attention to the windows as you probably should, too busy making sure that your flowers would survive the likely loss of power. The next time you looked out the window it was hailing pellets the size of golf balls and you decided it was safest to just stay in the shop. You’d been through a few twisters by now and knew how to handle yourself but you still found yourself shaking and nervous as you plotted out the safest spots in the store. 

Your nerves got worse when the power cut out. The scream of the wind and the hail against the roof were the only sounds you could hear. You lit one of your emergency candles. It wasn’t much but there was something comforting about the little source of light and heat. You let yourself relax, watching that little flame, until some red and blue lights distracted you.

You heard the front door slam open followed by Lee shouting your name. You ran to the front of the shop and hugged him tight before yelling, “what the hell are you doing here, Lee?!”

“I could ask you the same thing, Y/N! You promised me you’d be home before this storm got rough. I tried callin' your home, which still has power by the way, and got no answer, so I ran out here hoping, praying you weren’t stuck in a ditch or worse!”

“I can look after myself and you shouldn’t worry about me like that,” you protest. 

Before Lee could yell back you both heard a loud boom as lightning struck a nearby tree. You pulled Lee away from the front door and windows as the tree started falling. Much to both of your dismay it landed on your cars. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. “That’s gonna be a lot of paperwork.”

“For both of us,” you agreed, grateful you were caught up on your insurance. “In the meantime, looks like we’re trapped together here. Come on back, it’s a bit safer there. You got your radio? Let the other officers know?”

“Yeah, yeah. You get on back and I’ll radio. But we’re not done talkin’ about you lyin’ to me!” Lee turns away and radios the station letting them know his car is done for, “happened while rescuing a citizen trapped in a store but now we’re both here. We’ll be alright but I’m out for most any calls.”

“Roger that, Sheriff” you hear as Lee walks to join you. 

“Now,” he says as he crosses his arms and glares, “you wanna tell me what the hell you’re doin’ puttin’ yourself in danger like this?” You’ve noticed over the years how his accent gets stronger the angrier he is. It’s cute when it’s not directed at you.

“I genuinely lost track of time, Lee. I swear it was a legitimate accident. But you didn’t have to come out and save me. I’ve been through these things before and know how to take care of myself.”

“You’d be better at takin’ care o’ yourself if you were at home. Why’d ya even bother openin’ the damn store today? Coulda saved me a heap of trouble and a car!”

“That’s on you,” you countered. “I didn’t ask you to come get me, so you do not get to hold that over my head. And the store was closed most of the day but I had to be here to make sure I’d still have a store to come back to. I got caught up in the preparation and lost track of the time. You know that happens to me.”

“Why the hell couldn’t you just stay home where I…” Lee falters. “Where I’d know you were with your neighbors, lookin’ out for each other?”

“What were you about to say?” Lee shakes his head but you press him further. “You were gonna say something else just now. What was it?”

Lee lets out an exasperated sigh. He knows you well enough to know he’s not getting out of this one. His tone is quiet as he admits “I was going to say, ‘stay home where I could keep you safe.’ It’s…it’s what I say every time I visit Juanita. I just…I don’t want to lose someone else because I couldn’t be there.”

Not knowing what to say you opt to wrap Lee in as big a hug as you can. He gives you a gentle hug back and you stay like that for a long time. Long enough to notice the wind dying down and the pounding of the hail soften to the patter of just rain. 

The hug finally breaks when Lee’s radio chimes in, specifically calling for him. He walks out the front to respond leaving you in the back room. All by yourself in the dark with just a candle. You take the time to clear your head and, by the time Lee walks back in, you’ve made your decision.

“Deputy is drivin’ out here to give us a lift,” Lee tells you. “We’ll drop you off at home and I’ll get back to work.”

“Sounds good, Sheriff.”

Lee freezes. You only call him Sheriff when there are other people around. “What’s goin' on, Y/N?”

“We should probably stop hooking up,” you admit, not meeting his eyes. “I know we agreed on no romance, dating or whatever but…this whole thing was supposed to be temporary anyways. A way to stave off the worst of the grief as we healed. But I don’t think it’s working. I’m the last person to tell you to move on but if you’re still blaming yourself, blaming her, for her death, you need something more than I can offer.”

Lee focuses his attention on the floor, even though it’s too dark to see anything. When he doesn’t respond you continue, “I’ll still happily be your friend, that sure as hell won’t change. But I’m not gonna keep up the rest. It’s been fun, don’t get me wrong, but I think it’s keeping us from healing like we should be.”

He continues to stare at the spot on the floor until you hear the deputy’s car horn. You walk out in silence and get in the back of the car while Lee and the Deputy discuss all the damage and ongoing situations. They drop you off in front of your home, Lee never once acknowledging you. 

Over the next week you and your neighbors set to picking up the pieces, helping each other out, finding missing pets and more. Happily there weren’t any fatalities. Lee was purposefully keeping his distance from you, sending other officers to areas he knew were helping. The rumor mill was buzzing, of course, but you made sure to not feed the fire. 

When you finally got back to your shop the power had come back and you started salvaging what flowers you could. There were phone calls to suppliers and insurance companies to be made and you settled in for a long day on the phone. 

The front door jingled around noon and, without looking up, you call out, “mornin’ Sheriff.”

Lee lets out an exasperated sigh, “one of these days, Y/N.”

You look at him and ask, “do you actually want to know or do you want to keep it a friendly mystery?”

“You know what, I do wanna know. How the hell do you always know it’s me?”

“You’re always wearing the cologne Juanita would buy for you. That stuff she had to order special from the catalogs. You would’ve run out of it by now but I’m guessing you keep buying it because it makes you think of her.”

He purses his lips and nods, “the smell makes me think of her. My complaints about the cost when she first bought it for me were tempered by her assurances it would help me stand out while campaigning. It just kinda became another thing we would laugh and kid about.”

Lee takes his hat off and walks towards you, “I do need to apologize for bein’ so short with you. I’ve had some time to think and, you’re right. I don’t know that I’ll ever heal from losin’ Juanita, but I need to try and I can’t do that if I’m treating you like I would her. If I keep seein’ her in your place. If I keep wishin’ it was her laying next to me instead of you.” The confession hurts but you take it in stride.

“I’d still love to have ya as a friend,” Lee looks at you sheepishly. “I ain’t been much of a friend but I’m hopeful you’ll let me work at being better at that.”

You give Lee a soft smile and walk towards him with open arms. He welcomes the embrace and you feel his shoulders relax. It takes a while but you finally break the hug, tears in your eyes but a smile on your face. You both needed this.

It’s been a couple years since the storm but you and Lee are still good friends. So much so that he considers it his duty to keep an eye on your new suitor, a war veteran who came home missing an arm. When you asked Lee why he was stalking your date he looked offended, “I’m the Sheriff and your friend. I have to make sure this new guy isn’t takin’ advantage of our town’s sweet florist.”

You’re working on paperwork when you hear the front door bell jingle. Without looking up you say, “welcome to the Bouquet Boutique! Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“So that’s what you tell your customers,” Lee says with a smile on his face. His smile grows when he sees your look of confusion. “I’m tryin’ to go without the cologne for a while. See how that works.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say as you give him a big hug. “I’ve got your order right here, Lee. Make sure to give Juanita my love.”

“Will do, Darlin’. Will do.”

[negative-speedforce]

OC Creator Bingo!

From @occreatorexchange's challenge

Prompt: Secret Identity/Disguises

With: My OCs Siv Thawne and Hailey Laurence

"When were you going to tell me that you were the Shadow?" Hailey pinned Siv to the wall by her shoulders.

"The Shadow, eh?" Siv raised an eyebrow, still cocky despite her vulnerable situation. "Better than the one I was using, I guess. I like it."

"This is no time for jokes!" Hailey growled. "We've been... whatever you want to define this as... for months! And now, I find out that you're the villain that we've been chasing since that explosion at Mercury Labs!"

"First things first, that explosion was an accident. My powers are erratic and hard to control. You and I both know that." Siv replied, effortlessly calm. "Second of all, villain? I prefer the term 'vigilante'. Sure, I'm no saint, but I have a code. I only go after the people who deserve it. No children, no civilians, no animals. I may not be Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Hailey Laurence, but I'm no villain."

"You blew up a bank last week."

"Another accident!" Siv insisted, wiggling out of their jacket and out of Hailey's grip. Hailey's face immediately turned red at the sight of Siv's muscular arms and stomach, though she shook off the feeling of heat that rose in her core at the sight of the other woman's body. "You don't know a thing about me, Hailey Laurence. I suggest you stop pretending that you do."

"Stop deflecting the blame. What have I been to you all these months, Siv?" Hailey asked, tears of anger in the corner of her eyes. "You knew who I was! I don't wear a mask, unlike some people, so you would have seen my face a thousand times when we fought. You should have at least told me!"

"Please, you would have thrown me in a cell the first chance you got. You don't know the first thing about me. You think I'm this mastermind, when really, I'm just... some person. With superpowers. You don't know me at all, or why I do anything that I do!"

"Then tell me!"

"I'm trying to right a wrong that happened a long time ago." Siv replied. "What do you know about the death of Regina Rivera? March 19, 2015?"

"March 19..." Hailey trailed off, eyes going wide, her gaze a thousand miles away.

"They'll tell you she died in the fire, right? The one that burned the convention center nearly to the ground." Siv started circling Hailey, reaching for the collapsed baton in their thigh pocket. "She was murdered by a man. A monster, more like. I'm just trying to get justice for her."

Hailey clearly wasn't listening, frozen in fear and shock. Siv had clearly hit a nerve. Siv reached out to touch Hailey, but their hand swept right through her body. "The fuck?"

Siv again attempted to touch Hailey, but each time, it was like interacting with a hologram, or an illusion. There was nothing tangible in front of them. They clenched their fists, charging them up with lightning, and pressed them to where Hailey's chest should be, before releasing a cloud of static into the taller woman's body.

"Ow!" Hailey shuddered, her body becoming tangible again. "What the hell, Siv?"

"You scared the shit out of me!" Siv retorted. "You were transparent and intangible! It was like I was touching a ghost!"

"That's because you were." Hailey replied. Siv could tell that somehow, Hailey wasn't lying.

"Looks like you have some explaining to do, too."

"Maybe. We should take this elsewhere."

"My place?" Siv offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine. But if my boss catches us..."

"Relax." Siv squeezed Hailey's arm. "So far, you're the only one who knows who I am. Except Jay."

"Wait- you know Jay Barron?"

"Yeah, we were like, besties in high school." Siv replied. "Like I said, we both have a lot of explaining to do."

[horce-divorce]

as someone who has been all but fucking abandoned by doctors to manage my extreme and severe nerve damage pain from my rare disorder on my own. every time someone brings up cannabis hyperemesis syndrome to me makes me more insulted and irate than the last.

especially because the last several times I wasn't talking about vomiting. I was talking about preprandial PAIN. that began when I was NINE YEARS OLD. ie pain after EATING. that is RELIEVED. by SMOKING.

1. onset of CHE must be AFTER several YEARS of continuous cannabis usage. the reverse is true in my case. I did not start smoking cannabis until several many years AFTER onset/worsening of pain and other symptoms like vomiting. cannabis RELIEVES these symptoms and is in fact THE ONLY THING THAT DOES THAT and NO! gabapentin didn't do fuck all for me!!!!!

2. CHE is characterized by vomiting, pain & other symptoms occuring AFTER YOU SMOKE! and symptoms that get better when you stop! FUCKING FASCINATING! that is, again, the exact opposite of true for me!!!!

3. People with CHE find relief in hot showers???? Lmfao my POTS having ass could never but ESPECIALLY when I'm nauseous are you fucking kidding me? That would actually kill me!!! What is actually going on with cannabis hyperemesis???? like. that is weird as fuck.

(source btfw. since apparently doctors love referencing shit they cannot fucking read)

so not only do the 3 MAIN DIAGNOSTIC CRITERIA blatantly not apply to my case, I have seen DOZENS UPON DOZENS of other doctors, do you really think none of them fucking thought of ibs, anxiety and cannabis hyperemesis syndrome? because lol, lmao, I promise you, each and every single doctor I've ever spoken to went out of their way to mention those each MORE than once.

The fucking university that diagnosed me with MALS, a rare disorder characterized by pain so severe it caused panic attacks, has a strict no opioids policy, and apparently I'm not a candidate for MALS surgery until I'm dying already (they literally told me id have to be on a feeding tube first. that is a whole separate posts worth of bad information). they literally told me to go smoke weed and fuck off. they left me on my fucking own. and it took me TEN (10) YEARS to get diagnosed. It took me a DECADE To get to the point where I was told "yeah we know exactly what you have and that it's insanely painful and causing a lot of nerve damage. umm smoke weed about it since you love doing that so much? bye"

so I do what they ask of me, I take my care entirely into my own fucking hands and I learn everything I can and *I* painstakingly stay in top of the latest research about my condition, and *I* find ways to manage the pain, and *I* document my results, and *I* am my own fucking full time carer since this pain is so disabling it cost me my 20s. Only to have every SINGLE fucking one of my doctors turn around and disrespect and disregard ALL of that fucking work I do to ask me "have you considered not smoking weed, in the interest of me doing a bad and lazy job?"

literally how fucking hard is it to give someone- WHO HAS ALREADY PROVEN THEY ARE COMPETENT ABOUT THEIR DIAGNOSES!!!!! Ok!!! So we are not talking fucking hypotheticals here, we are talking 'i have a piece of paper from the university next door that says I have this and I am actually explaining what it is TO the doctor' okay??- THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT ABOUT MY OWN EXPERIENCE. which btw, is the PRIMARY evidence you even HAVE to work with and do your job. basic lab results will only tell you so much.

why is it so FUCKING HARD to get medical professionals to treat disabled people like we are fucking people!!!!!! they act like it's so hard. like we're asking them to go fucking above and beyond or something with this shit.

this was far from being the worst thing about that visit btw I just am sitting here seething at 4am checking off every single box on the Shitty Healthcare Provider Bingo Card in my brain and I'm going "AND ANOTHER THING!" ableist as fuck, check- she literally called autistic people assholes in the context of, "not EVERYONE with autism is the stereotype, like, an asshole and into trains or whatever"- and then suggested to Bel that his widespread joint pain is probably from being clumsy and hurting himself bc he's autistic.........). disregarded everything we said, check. repeatedly recommended a bunch of irrelevant and ineffective medications or options (such as "quitting smoking weed") that we have already tried, check. brought up a legitimate related issue (hypoglycemia) that she then glossed over and told us nothing about, check. made HELLA assumptions instead of just fucking asking us things- she started going into this spiel about how, like, you know getting diagnosed doesn't mean you'll get a CURE, right? :/ And we both had to be like ummmmmmmmm. I have a vascular compression and fucking nerve damage I need to know about that shit happening inside my body. That's not about getting a cure it's about making sure all my organs get enough blood and that I GET ADEQUATE MEDICAL CARE, INCLUDING PAIN MANAGEMENT.

This is why Bel and I go to all our appointments together these days. I can't imagine how fucking awful this would've been if we'd met with her alone, so she could've just steamrolled over us 1-on-1 in private.

I fucking hate doctors this is why nobody ever wants to go to the hospital. Not only does it cost an arm and a leg, we are paying to get fucking disrespected and disregarded, and then they're all confused about why their patients have shitty dispositions. Fuck you

[invisibleraven]

BINGO PROMPTS: soulmate au (15) for Carrie/Reggie?

Carrie Wilson never wanted a soulmate.

She grew up knowing that soulmates didn't really mean squat if her parents were anything to go by. Trevor and Paige met at one of his shows, connecting right away, hooking up in his green room and she followed him for the rest of the tour, Carrie coming along before the next album came out.

And Paige left before the next tour. No note, no explanation, and no matter how many investigators Trevor sent out, no one could find her.

So Carrie came to learn that soulmates didn't mean you stayed together. Thus making her wonder what the point was, and decided she was fine without one. No matter what the counter on her wrist said.

~

Reggie Peters couldn't wait to meet his soulmate.

Sure he knew that being soulmates didn't always solve things-his parents were prove enough of that. They had mated after meeting at some church function, and had been at each other's throats ever since. But they stayed together, through ever fight, every disappointment, every hardship.

Reggie wanted that, someone who would stick by him through thick and thing. Who was destined to love him, and together they would be a united front.

Sure, he knew sometimes you had to wait a long time to meet them, and sometimes you never did. But Reggie was positive that he would, the counter on his wrist said it would be a few years, which he was fine with waiting, and then, everything would be perfect.

~

Reggie was almost bouncing with excitement, he couldn't keep his eyes off the numbers ticking down. Sometime in the next hour, he was destined to meet his soulmate!

He was the last of his friend group to find their mate, with Luke and Julie being together since they were teens, Alex and Willie meeting not long after, and even Flynn had matched with Kayla once they entered college.

So Reggie was done waiting, and he looked up and around the fountain that made up the majority of the quad. This is where most every student passed to get to class, and sometimes sat to eat, or toss a coin. Sitting under the trees nearby to study or nap.

Right now though, Reggie was sitting on the ledge, knee bouncing as his leg went wild with nerves. He knew he should have let Alex stay, keep him calm but he didn't want an audience of his friends when he met his mate.

Suddenly he heard a crack of thunder and the skies opened up in a rare LA storm. "Shit!" Reggie yelled, debating running for the trees, but then the thunder crashed again, and even he knew that was the worst place to be if lightning struck, so instead he ran for the nearby building which thankfully had an overhang to take shelter under.

Once there he started wringing out his flannel, shaking like a dog to get the worst of the wet off, but that just made him shiver.

"Here," a voice said, and there was a towel thrust at him.

"Thanks," Reggie said, rubbing the warm cloth over his head, getting the worst of the rain from his hair. "You're a lifesaver."

"Nah, I just always carry a towel for after dance class," the voice said, and Reggie looked up.

Wow.

The girl before him was in a hot pink leotard and leggings, her honey blonde hair in a severe bun, but she had a kind smile and twinkling brown eyes. She was also giving him an appraising look over and seemed pleased with what she saw.

He handed her the towel back, but she pushed it into his arms. "Keep it, I've got lots."

"Thanks again," he said. "Is this where your dance class is?"

"Luckily," she replied. "Where were you headed?"

Reggie's eyes flew to his wrist, but the timer was gone. He had been so busy running from the rain he hadn't even noticed it disappearing. He could have passed his soulmate in the downpour and never have known it.

"Looks like nowhere," he said dejectedly. "I was waiting to meet my soulmate, as silly as that sounds. I must have missed her."

"You're better off honestly," she said. "Soulmates don't guarantee a happily ever after."

"Maybe not," he admitted. "But I wanted the chance to find out."

"Well I can't help you there, but you're welcome to come watch my class," she offered. "At least it's warm in there and you can dry off, hopefully it'll all be over by then."

"I'd like that." He offered her his hand. "Reggie."

"Carrie."

They shook, and Reggie noted her blank wrist. "Can I ask what happened with yours?"

"My what?" Carrie asked, leading him inside the studio, finding it relatively empty as most of the other girls probably using the rain as an excuse to avoid class.

"Your soulmate," Reggie replied. "Seems you had a bad experience."

"I haven't met my-" Carrie glanced down and saw her wrist was blank. The wrist that just that morning said today was the day she had been dreading. Then her eyes flew to the rather cute guy who so wanted the chance to meet her.

"I'll have to let you know," she replied. "After class, maybe we could take that chance over coffee?"

Understanding washed over Reggie's face and he beamed bright enough that Carrie was sure it chased every storm cloud away. "I'd like that."

Carrie still wasn't sure about soulmates, and Reggie was too sure of them. But together? They figured they could make it work.

There was always a chance.

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt Fill - "Disowned by Family"

Shelter From the Storm

When Gregorio comes out to her mother, the fallout leaves her falling back into old habits. Pride, however, is determined to remind her that she isn't alone in her struggles and that there are people that care about and love her just as she is right there in New Orleans. Sometimes, family doesn't have to be blood. Sometimes family can be found.

Pairings: None main; background PerSalle

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Self-harm, self-worth/esteem issues, general mental health issues, homophobia, disownment, blood/injury

Read on AO3

Gregorio knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the phone call, but it didn’t mean getting the courage to dial her mother’s number and press call was any easier.

Now, alone in her apartment, she wished her heart would stop pounding into the beginnings of a panic attack and let her fucking breathe. Her hands were so clammy with sweat that she half-expected the phone to slip and fall to the ground. She wondered if maybe it would be better if it did. It would mean she didn’t have to face this.

Gregorio loved her mom, but that was half of the problem. Her mother could be old-fashioned, and Gregorio had been raised in the countryside of New York with two dogs, an old cat, and no father to speak of. In some ways, Gregorio was a lot more like LaSalle than she wanted to admit.

As she waited for Emily Gregorio to pick up her phone, Tammy paced; she was her mother’s only child, and if what she said today devastated her like she feared it would, she doubted there would be another chance for them. This stupid fucking phone call was going to define their entire relationship, and the fear was enough to make Tammy grab the chair in front of her for support, nails scrabbling for purchase along the worn fiber.

No turning back now.

“Tammy?” Her mother’s voice, pragmatic as always, filled Gregorio’s ears and she flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she thought. “What’s wrong?”

It was a response that most other people would consider harsh or brusque, but in reality, Emily was just being realistic; Tammy almost never called unless she was backed into a corner and needed something. Her mother never called unless someone had died. It was a routine that Tammy couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for, considering her mother’s part in it and the lack of warmth between them. But their lack of contact made what Tammy had to say even harder to reveal.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Tammy breathed, trying to keep her voice as steady and strong as she could while the panic rattled in her ribcage. She could do this. She had to.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Emily exclaimed, and Tammy heard the blatant delight in her voice at the thought. She shook her head, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. This was going to make it even harder to burst her bubble. When the silence stretched on a beat too long, she rolled her shoulders, shaking them out, trying to calm her nerves.

“Uh, no, Mom, I’m not pregnant,” Tammy replied, heaving a deep breath. “I, uh…I-I’m…”

“You’re what, Tammy? Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Tammy burst out, chest heaving with having the pressure of her secret released. She felt herself begin to tremble and leaned more of her weight onto the old chair in front of her. “I’m, uh, I’m a lesbian, Mom. I like women.”

The silence that followed her revelation felt like claws around Gregorio’s neck, choking and scratching into her windpipe. She waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on her mother’s reaction. Tammy’s hands were shaking with fear. Even if they weren’t close, she still loved her mother. She still wanted her to be a part of her life.

“Tammy, I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Anything,” Gregorio begged, hating how desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t wait any longer. “Just say something, please.”

“Well, you know this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Emily stated, and Tammy knew it was true. Memories of her bisexual phase in high school rushed to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe past the mental images of her mother’s disdain when she was fifteen and dating Zara Matthews. The coldness in her mother’s voice, then and now, felt like Tammy had swallowed a burning hot coal that was beginning to scorch her insides.

“How will you have children, Tammy?” Emily continued, obviously distraught. Tammy’s fingers tightened on the phone, and she tried to take a deep breath; get herself under control.

“I can adopt,” she replied calmly, “Or find a surrogate. Or…” She paused, hesitating. She was already six feet deep and buried with her mother, it seemed; why not put the nail in her own coffin? “...or maybe I won’t have kids.”

“Tammy,” her mother said reproachfully, “You have to have kids!”

“Says who?” Tammy retorted, her hands trembling where they still held the back of the living room chair for dear life. “I mean, look at me. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m happy. I, I don’t have to have kids. Besides, I’m an NCIS agent. Who would want a mom who does what I do?”

“A child that understands the meaning of sacrifice,” Emily snapped. “Which you clearly don’t.”

“Mom, I…”

“No, Tammy, just don’t.” Gregorio fell silent, biting her lip hard to avoid letting out the tears that had gathered in her eyes sometime during the phone call. Her mother loved her, she was sure. But Tammy could never be who she wanted, either. And if she had learned one thing from her time in New Orleans with Ethan, before NCIS, it was that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

“Look, dear, I’m not going to say that this is the end of things.” Gregorio’s breath hitched, and she had to fight to keep her emotions in check. She knew that tone well enough to know what her mother was really saying, and it was the end of things. God, she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but to know it and to have it confirmed were two very different feelings.

“But you should know how I feel about this,” Emily continued, ignorant to her daughter’s pain. “I don’t think it’s right. I don’t think it’s natural. I always thought you grew out of that phase you had in high school, especially after you married Ethan. Which, I know that didn’t work out, but one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole barrel is bad. I-I don’t know what you want from me here, Tammy. You are my daughter, and I love you. But I will not support this lifestyle. When you’re ready, you can come back home. We can work this out. But until then, don’t - don’t call. Don’t visit. Please. Spare us both. I’m sure you won’t feel this way forever, Tammy. When you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Mom - ”

“Tammy, please. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just-Just sort yourself out, okay? I’ll be here when you need me. I love you.” With that, the call dropped, and Gregorio sank to her knees behind the worn out chair, breathing hard and fast, on the verge of a fucking panic attack from the call. Emily was gone. She recognized the situation for what it was; her mother had given her an ultimatum. Become straight, or say goodbye to her and their home back in New York forever.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

With the sound of the dial tone in her ear, her mother’s final words before she hung up way too loud in her head, Tammy allowed herself to cry, the weight of the emotions she had struggled to hold back before escaping in full. She sobbed into her knees, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. She couldn’t change, even though there had been more than enough times that she wanted to. She couldn’t give her mother what she had asked for.

In all the ways that mattered, it was over.

She and her mother had never been close. The truth was that Tammy expected the call to end like this, but it was still more of a blow than she had ever expected to know that the woman who raised her would never accept her for who she was. Tammy felt lost, and cut open, like someone had twisted a knife in her and then left her to die on a street corner. She didn’t know what her next steps were, if there even were any, and more than anything, she felt vulnerable.

It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, between her secrecy about her private life and the walls she built around her heart, but it made her want to hide and protect her six from whatever was going to hurt her. But there was nothing to shield herself from, no imminent threat or dangerous gunman; just her own damage and that goddamn dial tone still humming in her ear, a reminder that she would never be able to call home again.

The thought of home sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks, and Tammy finally ripped the cellphone from her ear, throwing it across hardwood until it crashed into the side of her refrigerator. She would regret that later, she was sure, but for now she didn’t care. She couldn’t. The only piece of herself that seemed to matter was in New York, probably opening a bottle of whiskey and no doubt planning to pray for her in church the next day.

Home was gone forever now, even if she hadn’t called it that in years. It was still the place where she was raised, and where she’d learned how to fight for herself in more ways than one. She loved the sprawling hills on their property, and the well where she had nearly drowned once as a child. She loved the fucking tire swing and the garden beds and the old barn where she used to go with the dogs when she needed to be alone. Their house and grounds were so beautiful that sometimes Gregorio hardly believed that she lived in New York growing up. All of it would become a memory now, and she would never be able to touch the wildflowers that grew along the fence line ever again. It shouldn’t have affected her so much, considering it had been years since she even wanted to go home, but the thought of losing it all forever was more than she could handle.

The tears, which hadn’t stopped or slowed in the slightest, were becoming overwhelming and almost nausea-inducing, so Gregorio took a deep breath, moving her hands roughly down her legs, then her calves, then her ankles, trying to ground herself and move away from the precipice of her breakdown. But instead of finding stability in her old brown Doc Martens, like she had hoped, her hand brushed a cold piece of metal, and it sent her heartbeat racing again.

She knew what it was, the feeling unmistakeable against her fingers. It was a sterling silver razor blade, years old at least, tucked into a fraying patch on her boots since November of 2018. She had played a dangerous game with it, allowing it so close; on one hand, it could become dislodged at work and she ran the risk of someone investigating her for psychological issues if they saw where it had been hiding. On the other hand, she could lose it in the field, and she would never have to worry about it, or remember the temptation, ever again.

Neither of those things had happened, apparently, and she knew from the feel of it against her fingers that, somehow, it hadn’t even been scuffed. It was the perfect deadly instrument, even after all these years. Gregorio’s hand trembled.

She hesitated for a second, but pulled the razor blade from the patch on her boot, turning it over and over in her palms like precious gold. A coil of longing hit her like a punch to the gut, and Gregorio tried to suck in a deep breath, wanted to put it back, wanted to throw it away and pretend it never existed, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

If this razor blade had somehow managed to survive three years working as a field agent for the FBI, and one as an NCIS agent, not to mention the countless parties and clubs she’d been to, it had to be a sign. Gregorio didn’t believe in fate, but maybe the gods that weren’t were trying to tell her something now.

It had been five years. It had been half of a lifetime. Part of Gregorio didn’t want to risk it, after fighting so hard to get clean in the first place, but the other, larger part of her that wanted for the quick pain of metal against her skin argued that because it had been so long, it wouldn’t matter now. A relapse wasn’t really a relapse if it only lasted a day, and if she got her act together right after. She could do this, and hide it, then throw it away the next day and no one would ever have to know.

“It’s not like last time,” Gregorio muttered to herself, trying to believe it. “I won’t let it get out of hand.”

She didn’t know if she could keep the promise to herself or not, but it didn’t matter. Her mother’s words were still burning like acid in her lungs, and she just wanted the pain to be replaced with something new, something better, until she was able to get ahold of herself. It was the best, most efficient option, and then she would stop. One cut, she told herself, and after that she would curl up in bed and watch Desperate Housewives or something. One cut, and she would be okay.

Tammy rolled up her sleeve, took a deep breath, and pressed the razor blade to her wrist.

The relief was immediate, almost as overwhelming and euphoric as a drug, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the feeling. It didn’t take away her mother’s homophobia, or the way her abandonment made Tammy feel, but it replaced the worst of it with white-hot pain and the familiar sting of a fresh cut instead. Blood welled like storm clouds in the wound, and slid down her wrist until it began to drip onto her pants. Lazily, Tammy remembered she needed to do laundry and didn’t have another pair of work pants. Another, bigger part of her, however, couldn’t be bothered to care.

Instantly forgetting the one-cut promise, Tammy sliced her way through six pristine cuts before stopping to take a breath, her chest heaving with the relief of giving into the old addiction again. She didn’t remember much from three years ago, the last time she cut, but she could swear it had never felt this good before.

Looking down at her arm, a pageant of crimson lines sluggishly bleeding, Tammy felt the calm settle into her bones, numbness chasing away the pain. She exhaled hard, letting her head thump against the forgotten chair in front of her. She got what she needed. She should stop.

She didn’t.

It was close to midnight before she threw the razor blade down and stopped to admire her work. She wasn’t sure how much blood she would have to clean up, or how much she had lost, and she hadn’t eaten today either. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit there after what she’d done, but her head was swimming, and she was so exhausted that even attempting to get up would have been too much for her. So, instead, Tammy rested her arms on the bloodstained slacks, and let her head loll against the back of the living chair. She had slept in worse places.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, Tammy’s alarm came blaring to life at 6am, startling her awake from where she was slumped over next to the chair. Her arms felt like they were glued to her pants, dried blood sticking to the fabric, and she could feel a telltale crustiness on the seat of her pants that meant, somehow, she had managed to sit in a puddle of blood. “God, make it stop,” she muttered, and struggled to get to her feet to turn off the fucking alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this bad.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, where her phone was at, miraculously not dead but down to the last 5% of its battery, it was almost 6:30 and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t hustle.

Tammy made it to her bedroom with less difficulty, though she still felt lightheaded, and got to work peeling the blood-soaked slacks off and painfully removing her shirt, which had a few spots of blood on it from her careless cutting the night before. She searched through her closet as fast as she could for the most lightweight long-sleeved shirt she had, that was a dark enough color to mask the blood if her cuts opened up while she was at work. After that, she selected a pair of dark jeans, even though they were against the agency dress code, and headed to the bathroom to do what she could for her appearance.

To her dismay, her eyes were still a little bloodshot from last night, and her hair was a mess. She would need makeup to cover up the circles underneath her eyes, evidence of multiple nights of restless sleep in preparation for the phone call with her mother.

The thought of her mother made Tammy’s heart seize up, and she pressed on one of the new cuts, hissing at the sharp pain it brought. It was enough to snap her out of her head, at least, and she got to work applying makeup to cover up what she could of her turmoil. Finally, she was able to run a brush through her hair, grab her gun, badge, and car keys, and head out the door.

Just before walking into the Navy Yard, Tammy hesitated, and considered calling in sick. But as tempting as it was to go back to her apartment and stay in bed all day, that wasn’t a good idea; the NCIS team was like a big fucking family, and they were sure to stop by if they got word she wasn’t feeling well. Not only was her apartment a mess, but the pool of blood by the chair in the living room, as well as the razor blade that had caused all of this damage, was still out in the open for any prying eyes to see.

Still, Tammy knew it would be hard to keep what she had done from her teammates. She would have to be on her guard. They were perceptive, even if they weren’t trained profilers like her, and much worse, they knew her. It would take all of her skills at hiding and lying and pretending to fool them into believing she was fine.

The cuts pulled tight as the fabric of her shirt shifted, making each step and movement she made towards the office painful. She had learned how to hide the pain a long time ago, but a part of her wished she had bandaged the wounds before coming in today, instead of hiding the first-aid supplies in her bag in case of an emergency and hoping for the best. But Pride was already going to kill her for being late, and it would take another fifteen minutes at least to deal with the fallout of her habit. She didn’t want to come off any more suspicious than she already was.

Taking a deep breath, Gregorio etched a smile onto her face, and walked into the NCIS office like everything was fine, as always. Nothing is different today, she warned herself, trying to drill it into her brain. Nothing has changed.

“There ya are, Gregorio! Was startin’ to wonder if we was gonna have to send out a search party,” Chris greeted her with a smile, and Gregorio gave him one of her patented bitchfaces in return.

“I got caught in traffic,” she lied, and watched his face for any signs of disbelief as she made her way to her desk. She clocked the slight raise of his eyebrows, his posture lengthening, and reminded herself to adjust her tone when she was lying.

“Didn’t think there was hardly any traffic on Bourbon Street,” Chris commented, and Tammy turned to place her bag next to her desk and start up her computer. It was easier to lie to someone when she didn’t have to face them.

“There isn’t usually,” she replied, keeping her tone light and casual. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Guess so,” Chris responded, and Tammy turned around just in time to see him giving her one of his famous, milliwatt smiles. She grinned back, bumping his shoulder playfully on her way into the kitchen. One down, two to go.

By the time she caught up with Pride and Sonja, it was almost midday, and the hot, humid weather prompted a picnic invite from Pride to eat lunch at the bridge in town. Chris, Sonja, and the others all agreed, leaving Gregorio as the odd one out. She knew she couldn’t decline without offering an explanation, lest they become suspicious of her motives, but she couldn’t accept the invitation when she knew either Chris or Sonja would try to roll up her sleeves the second they arrived, either to tease her or out of care for her wellbeing. Refusing their help against potential heatstroke when it was summer in the middle of New Orleans was a one-way ticket to having her secret revealed.

“Tammy, you’re not going to lunch with us?” Percy pouted, her eyebrows drawn up in that Percy way, that said she was more concerned than disappointed, but was too proud to put voice to her feelings. “Come on, don’t you want to hang with the gang?”

“As much as I would love to ‘hang with the gang’,” Gregorio used air quotes and gave Sonja a playful smirk, “I have a prior obligation.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date,” Chris said, walking into the kitchen with an ice chest for their drinks. “So who is it, Gregorio? Black-haired beauty? Feisty redhead? That’s my type.”

“Excuse you,” Percy retorted, raising her eyebrow in his direction.

“Pardon me,” Chris corrected, giving Sonja a fond smile, “That’s usually my type.”

“Better,” Sonja affirmed, before turning her attention to Gregorio once more. “But seriously, T, where you goin’ that you can’t come hang with us?”

“Well, Chris wasn’t exactly wrong,” Gregorio replied, lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip so she could avoid having to look either of them in the eyes. “A certain mayor’s secretary asked me out the other day, and I can’t leave her hanging a second time.” Though it was a lie that they had a lunch date, it wasn’t a lie that she’d been asked out, so Gregorio didn’t feel as bad as she maybe should for using Amber as her scapegoat.

“With that one, you better not,” Chris replied, chuckling. “I’ve heard she’s got some high standards.”

“Of course she does,” Gregorio retorted without missing a beat. “She’s going on a date with me, isn’t she?”

Sonja and Chris both laughed at that, the latter ribbing her good-naturedly for a minute or two before they calmed down. She allowed her smirk to play on her lips, knowing she could pass it off as satisfaction at her joke instead of her lie. They weren’t suspicious of her anymore, not after she’d thrown them a bone. For now, she was safe.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, when the team was getting ready to wrap up and head home, Pride caught her eye, gesturing her into the kitchen. Tammy dropped her bag and took a deep breath, heading in to meet him. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Of all of them, Pride was the most likely to figure out that something was wrong, even if he was the least likely to react with anything other than kind, calm patience. Still, the idea of her boss finding out her most guarded secret was more terrifying than she could fathom.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging Pride, Gregorio took a seat on the barstool across from him, crossed her arms, and waited. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but forced herself to be motionless and keep her expression blank, lest she give away the anxiety she was feeling.

“So, Gregorio,” Pride said, taking in her position and folding his arms across the top of the bar, “Want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gregorio replied defensively, before she could stop herself and try to temper her tone. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Pride raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Well, for starters, you came in late today, said it was traffic when traffic is nonexistent on your street, you’re actin’ awful odd, and then you lied to Christopher and Sonja about who you were with for lunch today.”

Gregorio opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Pride held up his hand and continued, “I have it on good authority that the mayor’s secretary didn’t leave her office all day.” He softened, giving her a worried look, and said, “Just want to know you’re okay, and if anything’s goin’ on that we can help with.”

“It’s nothing,” Gregorio sighed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. There was no use pretending she was fine if Pride already knew something was up. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but maybe if she told him about her mom, at least, he’d leave her alone.

“Just a little upset from a phone call with my mother yesterday,” Gregorio admitted, picking at her nails to avoid meeting Pride’s eyes. “I came out to her.”

Pride nodded, his eyes filling with support and kindness for her, and moved to wipe down the kitchen counter, in an effort to give her space to talk as much as she wanted to. Gregorio knew the tactic, was familiar with it from teasing the truth out of LaSalle when he was being particularly stubborn. Though she was loathe to admit it, she appreciated it. “How did she take it?”

“Not well,” Tammy sighed, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb to resist the urge to burst into tears again. She had already done enough crying in the past 24 hours. “She basically gave me an ultimatum; stop being gay, or stop coming home. Permanently.”

“Oh, Tammy,” Pride breathed, sympathy pouring out of him and into her. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on her shoulder, and against her will, Tammy leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes to avoid letting Pride see how glossy they had become. “W-We were never really close.”

“Still, that’s gotta hurt,” Pride said, withdrawing just enough to allow her time to fight back the tears and open her eyes once more. “Parents’ rejection is…one of the worst things that can happen to a child. No matter how old they are.”

“Yeah,” Tammy breathed, the weight of her own exhaustion hitting her as she slumped on the barstool. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let something damage her like this. Who knew her mother’s decision would have such an impact on her? She sighed and tugged lightly on one of her sleeves, until it was down far enough on her arm to cover her fingers. Pride caught the movement, but said nothing. “To make matters worse, she tried to frame it like she loved me, and she was going to be there for me.” Tammy laughed bitterly, emotion swelling up in her throat. “She’s so convinced I’m going to change, Pride.”

“Not the way it works,” Pride said fondly, giving her a warm smile. His hand, still on her shoulder, was like a grounding wire, keeping her settled, and she felt like she was being comforted by the father she never had.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, again, and her voice wobbled on the last syllable. Under Pride’s kind, supportive words and gentle ministrations, she could feel the dam in her chest threatening to explode, and she slid sideways off of the barstool, grabbing for her coat and heading towards the door. She had to get out of here, before she lost it completely. “Anyway, I should go - ”

“Wait,” Pride called, and moved to follow her, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. Without thinking, still trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion in her chest, Gregorio hissed in pain.

“Tammy,” Pride said slowly, releasing her wrist with some reluctance, “There something wrong with your arm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Tammy replied, giving him a quick, panicked smile. “Just bruised it on the countertop when I was getting ready for work this morning.”

“That so?” Pride asked, and he sounded suspicious enough to make Tammy’s heart skip a beat in fear. She curled her fingers around her sleeves protectively. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Don’t bother,” Gregorio replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I told you, Pride, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Pride replied, and he reached for her wrist again. Determined not to give anything away, Tammy kept her face purposefully blank, allowing him to hold her arm in his hand even as his fingers pressing against the cuts felt like a sharp knife against her skin. “Thing is, Tammy…” Pride moved to grasp her sleeve, and Gregorio’s entire body tensed, waiting for his next move. This was not happening.

“You haven’t worn long sleeves this dark, especially during summer, all year,” he continued, “and that first time we talked, up on the balcony in your hotel when you first came here – you wore a tank top, and I don’t think you thought about it then, but I noticed something the others didn’t get the chance to see.” He lifted his gaze to meet Gregorio’s eyes, and she knew, without having to ask what he meant, that she was done for.

Pride knows.

“I’ve seen the scars on your wrists, Tammy,” Pride said softly, “And I’ve never mentioned it, because it’s not my business and I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for it. But if your arm is hurt…after all you’ve been through in the past few days, you understand why I need to check, right?”

Tammy nodded tightly, trying not to cry, as Pride moved to roll up her sleeve. At the last second, just before he could grab the cuff of her shirt, she blurted out: “And what do you think you’ll find, if you check?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Pride responded, his voice as kind and understanding as ever. Tammy choked on a sob, losing the battle against her emotions, and pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair so hard that she was sure she’d left red, inflamed scratches on her scalp. She heaved a deep breath and choked on it, trying to hold in the breakdown that wanted to happen, fighting to remain in control. Pride couldn’t see her like this. No one could.

“Just - Just please don’t demote me,” Tammy begged, straightening up and gasping for breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “D-Don’t put me on desk duty. I can still handle myself in the field, I promise I’m not a liability, Pride.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Pride said, and her heart sank. “For now, we need to get you taken care of.” He glanced at his watch, and muttered, “Loretta might still be here, I’d have to check the morgue.”

“No – please,” Gregorio pleaded, embarrassment creeping up to settle like fire on her cheeks. “No one else needs to know about this.”

“They do, Tammy,” Pride argued, raising his eyebrows at her. “They’re your teammates. Your family. They care about you. Of course they should know about this.”

“Please,” Tammy said, raising her arms to hug herself, trying to get some semblance of comfort in the least embarrassing or incriminating way possible.

“Look,” Pride said, gesturing for her to sit down across from him in the kitchen once more, taking a seat opposite her on the island, “I know you’re scared. You’re worried about what the others might think. But they love you, Tammy, and they want to help you. I do too.”

“What if they hate me?” Tammy breathed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she looked like a wreck, pathetic even, but this was her worst nightmare come true and she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Pride, I’m weak.” She gestured haphazardly at her arms, at herself, and shook her head, avoiding his gaze by staring down the marble kitchen tile. “They’ll see me differently.”

“Maybe so,” Pride conceded, “but not in the way you think. They won’t consider you weak, Tammy. I don’t.” He reached out to lay his hand on her arm, comforting and grounding her with the touch. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Gregorio.”

“Even now that you know I - ” Tammy gestured to her arms once more, at a loss for words. “ - Again?”

“Even now,” Pride confirmed, giving her a firm nod and a steady look that swore honesty. “Tammy, no one on this team will think any less of you for struggling with this.”

“Promise?” Tammy whispered, letting some of the vulnerability she was feeling slip into her voice as she asked the question.

“Promise,” Pride affirmed, and gave her arm a soft, gentle pat.

Gregorio nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as some of the tension was alleviated. “Do you have to tell them tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Pride responded. “But soon.”

“I understand.” Gregorio looked away, the fear thundering back to life in her chest. For an instant, under Pride’s reassuring words, it had disappeared.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gregorio,” Pride promised her, moving from the opposite side of the bar to wrap her in a tight hug. “The team’ll take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Gregorio protested weakly, but Pride shushed her with a hand in her hair, stroking gently.

“We want to,” he said, and Gregorio was struck with how much she wished he could have been her real dad. Maybe her future would’ve turned out better if he was. “This is somethin’ that everyone is more ‘n willin’ to help you with. We’re gonna get it taken care of. Got your back, Tammy, not just for work.”

“Thanks, Pride,” Gregorio whispered, too emotional to express her gratitude any further. She was sure Pride understood. In his arms, trembling, Gregorio could admit that maybe what she had really needed was the support and acceptance of her loved ones. Maybe her mother would never love her the way she was, but she had an entire family here in New Orleans that did.

Maybe that was what mattered.

And if, the next day, when Loretta called her down to the morgue and told Gregorio about her mother’s issues with self-harm while she bandaged the fresh cuts on Tammy’s arms, she felt a small piece of her heart begin to heal, she didn’t mention it. And if, when Sebastian gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and offered to call her and ramble about whatever came to mind when she was having urges, she started to tear up, well, no one could prove it (she had threatened Sebastian with removing his Power Rangers collection from the lab if he told anyone). And if, when Chris said nothing but drew her into the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving, and Percy showed up at her house without warning to sit on the couch with her and watch basketball, she began to realise this was all the family she needed, she knew she could blame Pride for most of it.

Getting clean again, and resisting the urge to take a blade to her arms whenever she felt like her world was falling apart, was a fight that took months, and she did end up on desk duty for some of it, but despite the silence that stretched between her and her mother, she found that the most important thing was the family that she had right here.

Maybe she didn’t need what used to be her home when she had a better one here in New Orleans.

[mrs-steve-harrington]

for the ask game! Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?

Post a snippet from a wip.

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Sort of a mix, maybe? Some of my fics, especially the ones where I need to make them longer (big bangs and the like), I do tend to outline and that involves some daydreaming in order to figure out when things need to happen. Others, I'll be thinking about nothing in particular and then I get hit with the first sentence of a fic and just start writing it. Then I'll have a wip or two that literally keep me tossing and turning all night because I keep imagining how the next line or scene or ending should go, but those are more dreams than daydreams. I get luckiest when other people (*cough*you*cough*) give me whole ideas and I don't really have to spend too long daydreaming because there's enough stuff there for me to work with and I can dive right in.

Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?

I'm still SUPER surprised that so many people read Day Four: Green With Envy, back when it first posted. And it still shows up in my kudos email with surprising regularity. I don't know what draws people to it at all. I feel like the writing on it is really wooden. But I'm happy that people like it because I also love Steve being taken care of by the Hendersons!

Post a snippet from a wip.

From one of my too-many July Break Bingo wips!

Steve bends at the waist to sift through the stack of junk in the Byers' yard. Between the both of them, they've found a couple heaters already. They're stacked carefully out of the way of the rest of the mess, waiting for anything else they might find. Hard as he tries to keep his attention on what they're supposed to be doing, he can't help but repeatedly glance in Nancy's direction.  The next thing he picks up to inspect slips out of his hands, crashing back into the pile with a startling crash. Nancy and Steve both jump in surprise. He doesn't know whether he dropped it due to nerves or the way his palms have begun to sweat, but heat rises up his neck all the same. Nancy's relieved laughter helps smother some of his initial embarrassment.  She meets his eyes and they seem to glitter in the porch light. "Choose me instead." He doesn't know where the words come from. Or he does. They've been turning over and over again in his mind since Tommy first told him about Nancy skipping school with Jonathan. It's only gotten louder since finding them in the woods, seeing how they looked walking together. Watching how they work together; how comfortable Nancy seems with him when she's been anything but with Steve for longer than he wants to admit. So Steve knows where the words came from. But he never meant to say them out loud.  Selfishly, it's not even that he doesn't want to make Nancy choose. He likes to think that he's a better person now than he'd been when they first started dating, but he hasn't changed that much. Of course he wants her to look at him, to choose him. Like she chose him last year when she came back to him a month after Will Byers went missing, but really mean it this time. Steve wants her to look at him, to choose him, to love him, and not regret it or resent him like she apparently has for the last year. The real reason he'd meant to hold those words inside until they stop hounding him is that he doesn't want to hear her answer. Doesn't want her to look up at him with pity— or worse— on her face and tell him, gently but no less painfully, that she can't. That Steve is the last person she would choose after spending the last year dealing with his bullshit.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Continuation of Request #14?

Request #23

Warning: mentions of past rape, beliefs of oneself being unlovable/unwanted.

Honestly, at first, I wasn't sure where to go with this, but I ultimately gave it a wholesome(?) ending that I'm satisfied with. (Of course, If y'all want another continuation, I'm down to write more in the future.)

Enjoy!

Part 1

~~~~

Welp...

It was morning now.

...

A sigh left Villain's lips as they lay freshly awake in their bed, staring at the ceiling. They had to go and deal with Hero, even though they really didn't want to. They were still rather puzzled about what had happened yesterday. Why the hell...? Did Hero actually enjoy...?

Shaking their head to clear their thoughts, the villain lifted themself with a slight groan and dragged themself out of bed. Now, first things first, they were in dire need of a shower. Their nemesis' unexpected late-night visit had drained what little energy they had at the time, so they had just collapsed into bed as they were, all sweaty and gross.

Entering the bathroom and turning on the water, Villain freed themself of their clothing and hopped right in. As they rubbed shampoo into their greasy hair, they pondered how they should deal with this situation. On the one hand, they could probably use this to their advantage. They could make an arrangement of sorts. Hero gets what they want as long as they follow Villain's orders.

Lightly chuckling, they imagined the looks on their nemesis' teammates' faces as they realized the hero had betrayed them. And only to fulfill some fucked up fantasy of theirs, too.

But on the other hand, this was super weird, and the villain probably shouldn't indulge Hero. This could get out of hand very fast. After all, the hero had already snuck back into Villain's base; who knows what they might do next to get what they're after.

With another sigh, they turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and went to get dressed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hero sat in the corner of their cell. Their arms had gotten tied behind their back, and the familiar power-suppressing collar was back on their neck. They weren't sure why they had come back. I mean, they knew why they came back, but they also... didn't.

It was such a stupid idea. Of course, Villain would freak out! Why the hell did the hero think they would react any other way?! What was wrong with them? Why did- Why did Hero enjoy being used like that...?

Were they into all that shit, or were they just... really that desperate for contact?

...

Hero couldn't deny that they did, in fact, enjoy being at the villain's mercy, but... physical contact was still their main desire. Even during their fights, they often let themself get pinned down, just so that they could be close to someone, even if only for a short moment. And Villain... Villain just happened to be the one person who willingly got closer to them...

...

Maybe they were just sick in the head... People probably avoided them for a reason... Villain didn't care about them; they were enemies after all. They only got close to the hero because they were fighting. It made sense, didn't it...? It made sense that Hero was unwanted-

The door suddenly creaked open, and light flooded the small room, blinding the hero for a moment. They blinked their eyes a couple of times to adjust, and once they did, their gaze met with the dark form of their nemesis.

With their arms crossed and a stern calculating look on their face, the villain stood before them, looking down at them. Hero fidgeted nervously under their stare and eventually looked away, head hanging low in their shame. The sigh that left Villain only made them curl in on themself more.

"Hero." - the criminal started, mentally preparing for one hell of a ride. "Why did you come back? I mean, you told me why, but- but why?"

Silence was all they received as an answer, and it honestly got on their nerves a bit. Hero fucking breaks back into their base and then doesn't even want to talk? Fine. They would do this a different way then.

Villain's footsteps echoed through the cell as they approached the quiet hero whose face still turned away from them. As they knelt down, they grabbed the other's chin and forced them to turn their head. The villain noticed the way Hero shivered from their touch and had expected them to try and pull away in fright, but instead, they leaned into it, albeit a bit hesitantly.

With how cold it was in the room, the villain could easily feel how hot the captured's face burned. As their eyes met, the hero looked embarrassed and like they seriously didn't want to be here right now. The sight just made Villain's blood boil even more.

"Why so hesitant all of a sudden, Hero? You were so eager earlier." - the villain spat out angrily, their nemesis' indecisiveness irritating them. Just what the hell did they want?

Hero tried to stutter out an answer. They wanted to explain themself, they really did! But all they managed to say was a quiet "I-I'm sorry..." as tears slowly gathered in their eyes.

"You're sorry?" - Villain pressed, demanding a better answer.

Tensing up as their stomach twisted in their stress, they tried to explain again, voice meek as they admitted, "I- I was just... lonely..."

Their captor was quiet for a moment, studying their face. Trying to figure the other out, they eventually asked, "You let me rape you because you were lonely?"

"Um... Well... when you... put it that way... I... um..." - the hero mumbled, their gaze darting all over Villain's face, avoiding their eyes, too afraid to look into them.

The villain was silent again, slowly catching onto what Hero's deal was. The way the other's eyes were moving all around was annoying, so they decided to test something. Using their free hand, Villain softly cradled the hero's face, making them freeze, their gaze locked on the new point of contact. The criminal's touch slowly glided to the back of Hero's head, making them shudder as their hand tangled itself in the captured's hair.

The hero's eyes looked off to the side, trying to ignore the new feeling, but Villain brought them back to attention as they suddenly gripped Hero's messy locks and roughly pulled, getting a yelp out of them. They shivered as the villain forced their faces closer and ordered, "Look me in the eyes, or I'm leaving."

With a small whine, Hero's eyes immediately snapped to Villain's own.

"Bingo." - the criminal thought as they loosened their grip on the other's hair and instead tenderly began to massage their scalp.

As another whimper crawled out of the hero's throat, they pleaded meekly, "S-Stop... Y-You- You d-don't-"

"You're touch starved." - Villain said, matter-of-factly, anger disappearing as their expression turned more neutral as Hero's tears started to flow down their face. "You let me hurt you because it meant I would touch you."

"I- I- I'm-" - the hero tried to deny their nemesis' words but ultimately failed as they broke down into sobs, still looking into the other's eyes, not wanting them to pull away.

The villain paused in their petting and instead cradled Hero's face with both their hands, the hero inhaling shakily at the feeling. As they hiccuped and sniffled, Villain continued their conversation.

"I admit, seeing you under me is fun, but you seriously need some help." - the criminal watched as Hero only cried more, still desperately keeping eye contact. They really needed help. I mean, to just let themself get raped? They could've just told Villain what they wanted, and they would've let them go!

And yeah, sure, the villain wasn't the best for doing that to them in the first place either, but they only did it because it was Hero. Raping some random person is of no interest to Villain, but the hero? They knew what they were signing up for when they picked this job, so the villain didn't mind being ruthless to them.

But still... this was... honestly just sad. Did Hero genuinely have no one who cared about them? Villain supposed they had fans, but that wasn't really the same thing. Someone liking them as a hero is a lot different than someone loving them as a person.

...

Did... Villain like them?

...

They didn't exactly hate them, but were they interested in the other like that?

...

Well, they did tell their henchmen to put Hero in that... revealing outfit...

It was mostly just to humiliate the hero, but...

...

Shit.

...

With a small sigh, they made their decision and continued talking from earlier. "And I'm gonna be the one to get you that help, 'cause God knows you won't get it yourself."

"W-Wha...?" - Hero's confusion made them pause their crying. What- What did Villain...

"W-What do y-you mean?"

"You're staying with me."

Hero's chest fluttered at that. Villain... wasn't going to push them away?

"R-Really...?" - the hero asked uncertainly, doubt still gripping at their heart.

With a smile that melted their worries away, the villain answered, "Yes, really. We'll get some oxytocin going in that brain of yours." They gave Hero's forehead a gentle boop for emphasis, and the hero found it oddly comforting.

"Also, we're getting you a therapist." - Villain added, more seriously this time. "And... you know what? Fuck it. I'm getting myself a therapist too. Got some shit of my own to deal with..."

In a slightly better mood, Hero playfully asked, "B-By 'get' do you mean you'll literally g-go and grab some therapists?"

The villain snorted in reply, and as they pulled the hero to their feet, they said, "For you? I'd kidnap a therapist any day, darling~."

The blush on Hero's face only worsened at the nickname, but they still found themself smiling, a bit giddy. As Villain undid their restraints, they rubbed at their wrists and neck, shyly looking to the other. "S-So, what now?"

"Now, we're going to go and have breakfast." - the villain answered, offering the hero their arm, which they flusteredly took as their stomach grumbled and as Villain grinned at them endearingly.

As the two of them walked, they talked about how exactly to proceed from here. Neither of them was of a very... healthy mindset, and such, this relationship probably wasn't the healthiest one out there. But... that was fine. They would get there someday.

If no one else would help them, then they would help each other.

[pars-ley]

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae​ thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub​ for @yutasgalaxy​ really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk​ @vantxx95​

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of. 

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face. 

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here? 

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed. 

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either. 

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both. 

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back." 

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more. 

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed. 

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him. 

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely. 

[tarlos-spain]

Like I'm the only girl in the world

Summary: After being injured during a shift, Carlos needs to stay home for a few weeks to recover. A few days later during a call out, TK finds a one-month-old baby girl, her dead drug addict mother, and then, without expecting it, he meets his black-eyed destiny staring back at him.

Pairing: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand

Notes: This story was born for the July Tarlos Bingo

Adknowledgements: Thanks to my precious team. @lire-casander always there with ideas, @morganaspendragonss the one helping me with my English, and @chaotictarlos and @trinipedia with their arts.

Chapter 01 : Whump Carlos/Worried TK

It was easy to be a paramedic when the victim was a stranger, sometimes a criminal, sometimes someone who suffered a stupid accident. It was easy to be a paramedic when the victim was left in the hospital, in the hands of good doctors. Tommy would give the information to the doctors and then his captain, Nancy and TK himself would climb back into the ambulance to continue their shift or to go home and forget about what happened.

Day to day life was easy and TK loved his job because he had never had to attend to someone important to him. Not until that night.

The call that came in on the ambulance radio said there was an injured police officer and after the first few times he had heard that and his heart had been in his mouth thinking it was Carlos, he had come to accept that his boyfriend wasn't the only cop in town.

But that night the feeling was different, he felt a shiver run through his body and clenched his hands as he felt them start to tremble.

"It's almost impossible that it's Carlos." Nancy told him resting her hand on her friend's leg.

"I know."

They were the nearest ambulance, so they went to the call.

TK was driving, so he was able to concentrate on the road ahead more than he was going through his thoughts.

It had been a while since he had had contact with Carlos, he had written him a couple of messages, but had gotten no response. He didn't worry about it, it wasn't the first time it had happened. When Carlos had a lot of paperwork for a case or when the reports piled up in a day, he didn't have time to take his cell phone out of his pocket.

There were several police officers moving around the residential area, two or three police cars and after getting out of the ambulance, TK looked around for Carlos with his eyes. He tried to find Mitchell as well, no one better than Carlos' partner could tell him where his boyfriend was.

But he wasn't fortunate enough to see either of them and that made him even more nervous than he already was.

"Hey, over here." One of the policemen said to them. "Over here, come on, he's bleeding out."

TK knew it before they arrived, he felt it in every fiber of his body and recognized his boyfriend's body as they approached.

He stifled a groan and for a moment, for a few seconds he managed to act like a professional and pulled the two bags out of the ambulance.

The three of them stood around Carlos. Despite the darkness around them, it was easy to see the bloodstain on his side growing in size despite the gauze Mitchell was pressing around the knife, the knife TK couldn't take his eyes off, the knife still stuck in his side.

He was struggling to breathe and his body was shaking. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was biting his lip struggling not to scream.

"TK I need..." Tommy looked at him for a second. "Nancy, I need to cut the bleeding, but I need light so I can stablize knife. Officers please."

Two police officers placed two lamps each on the floor.

"Captain, tell me what I can do." TK said in a shaky voice.

Now that he could get a good look at Carlos, pale, his back arched and uniform covered in blood, it made TK look closer and closer to losing his nerve and turning into an atomic bomb.

"I need you to be here and get Carlos to stop moving, otherwise he might shift that knife and hurt himself even more."

"OK.... ok..." TK kneeled next to Carlos, took his hand with one of his own and with the other stroked his cheek. "Carlos, babe, can you hear me?"

"It hurts...so much...I can't...breathe." Carlos moaned and squeezed TK's hand tightly.

Their eyes met and TK smiled. He wasn't quite sure if he would be able to hide the fear that coursed through his entire body.

"I know, my love... I know... But you have to hold on a little longer."

TK looked at Tommy and Nancy and then looked down at the wound. She had cut awaty his uniform and under shirt and his chest and belly were covered in blood. Plus, the knife was still there, stuck in his skin.

"We have to pull the knife out, but it's too deep, if it's ih his heart and I take it outnow it's possible he'll bleed out before we get to the hospital."

"TK... I can't... brea..." Carlos let out a choked moan. He opened his mouth again but nothing came out.

Keep Reading on AO3

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 2

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC

Part 1 can be found here. xxx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 -

Lunch was over and Pricilla organised the boys to go set up the objects for tomorrow night's scavenger hunt around the camp grounds. The boys had drawn the groups their pairs would be in charge of before leaving and JJ and Caroline had gotten Teens 2, whereas Sarah and John B had gotten Teens 1, which meant that, for better or worse, their groups would be partaking in a lot of activities together, seeing as they were both in the same age group.

The girls were given the job to set up the seating area where the bonfire was going to be, so Sarah and Caroline stuck together as they made their way towards the clearance where it was going to be held.

"Can you believe I got paired up with JJ Maybank?" Caroline sighed.

"Beats Routledge by a thousand, I can promise you that," said Sarah, still extremely disappointed, "At least Maybank looks like he takes care of himself."

Caroline chuckled at her comment. John B had also grown his hair out over the years and it was now down to his shoulders.

"He does seem like he is... in touch with nature," Caroline remarked and Sarah laughed genuinely for the first time since drawing the boy’s name out, "Maybe they won't be that bad to work with, besides, it's only nine weeks, what could go wrong?"

Sarah seemed to think for a second before her lips curled into a devious smirk, "Hey, didn't you used to have, like, the biggest crush on Maybank?"

Caroline's cheeks turned red immediately, "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled quickly.

Sarah started laughing, "You totally did! You lucky, lucky bitch! I wish I got paired up with my childhood crush! Instead I get to spend my last summer before moving away with snot-nosed, bug-eating Routledge... Why was the Universe on your side and not on mine?"

They walked behind the rest of the girl counsellors towards the bonfire area. When they arrived, the logs that Pricilla had informed them would be stacked up in a convenient for them to move around way, were all scattered across the ground. The pillows that were meant to go on top of them were also in disarray. All the girls looked around in confusion.

"Surely this couldn't have been the wind?" one of them said.

"Surely this was the boys." said Sarah matter-of-factly, "I'd bet 50 bucks that Routledge had something to do with this."

All the girls turned to look at her in confusion.

"What?" she protested, shrugging her shoulders, "You know I'm right."

Caroline rolled her eyes, "Boys or not, we better sort this mess out before sundown, we have cabins to set up as well."

The girls agreed, Sarah being skeptical but also finally giving in, and little by little, they set up the bonfire area. It took them a little over two hours before they started making their way back to the cabins, which they were supposed to decorate with welcome signs for the arriving campers.

Since Sarah and Caroline were both in charge of the oldest groups, their campers were meant to be sharing two cabins - one for the boys and one for the girls.

"Let's split up, I'll do the boys and you do the girls," Sarah offered, nearly shocking Caroline, "Try being as quick as you can. Meet me back out here in 15 minutes tops." she ordered before scurrying up the steps into the boys’ cabin.

Caroline rushed into the cabin next door, pleasantly surprised by Sarah's sudden determination to get work done. As she was arranging the banners and posters on the walls and ceiling, she couldn't help but think that Sarah must have had some sort of ulterior motive to being this enthusiastic about working. Sure enough, she was right.

She had barely taken a step out of the girls' cabin when Sarah spoke up, "Took you long enough. Now let's go find those stupid guys."

The sun was setting and the woods had gotten a bit chilly as Sarah lead Caroline towards where the male counsellors were supposed to be. After setting up the scavenger hunt objects, they were supposed to set up the archery area. As they were getting closer to the archery grounds, the two girls could hear the laughter of the boys in the nearby distance. Sarah pretended to gag yet again.

"Quick, around here," Caroline pulled Sarah behind the small hut where they kept all of the camp's archery supplies. From their spot they could see the guys quite clearly and could hear everything they were saying, "Remind me again why we're doing this?" Caroline whisper-yelled at Sarah.

"Because I'm still furious about their little prank," Sarah explained, "Which is why I want to prank them back."

"How are we gonna do that exactly?" asked Caroline, "By eavesdropping?"

"A good villain is one that knows the enemy's weaknesses," said Sarah, "First we listen for a bit, and then we make a plan."

Caroline couldn't help but smirk at this new side of Sarah she was seeing. She much preferred this Sarah to the constantly whining, gloating Sarah she had gotten used to over the years. Plus, being somewhat of a daredevil herself, Caroline couldn't help but find the idea of pranking the boys back exciting.

"Can you believe I got paired with Jenna Kinley?" one of the boys, Kelce, said, "Not only are we supposed to work together, but we're also meant to be taking care of babies..." he face palmed himself.

The other boys laughed.

"C'mon, Johnson, 10 year olds are hardly babies," said another one of the boys, Topper, "Besides, working with Kinley will not be nearly as scandalous as working with Hague!"

JJ spoke up next, "Aw, don't be like that, Top," he said, "Madison's not that bad!"

Topper scoffed at JJ, "Easy for you to say! You and Routledge got paired with the best girls out of the bunch! And you got the teens groups!"

Sarah and Caroline smirked at the remark.

"Boys, boys, boys," came John B's voice suddenly, "Let's put this topic behind us, I'm sure you'll all be glad to hear about what I managed to sneak into our cabin." all the boys were now staring at John B in anticipation, "16 bottles of pure, fine whiskey, m'boys. Safe to say, tonight will be a ball."

"Bingo..." Sarah and Caroline smiled mischievously at each other, the perfect prank idea forming in both of their heads.

They quietly made their way back to where all the cabins were and sat at one of the patios.

"So here's the plan," said Sarah, "We sneak into their cabin, raid Routledge's luggage and steal his bottles of whiskey. Let's go now!"

Caroline stopped her, "No, no, not now!" she hissed, "They're gonna go to their cabin before dinner and Routledge's gonna want to show them his stash! We'll sneak out during dinner. Oh, and, I suggest we throw a party of our own to this occasion."

Sarah smirked at Caroline, "I like where you're going with this, Carrie," she said, patting Caroline's shoulder before standing up to go into their cabin, "Not bad for a nerd."

Caroline sighed, there was the old Sarah again.

~~~~~~~~

“Windsor!” Caroline heard a voice behind her call out, “Been paired up for a whole day now and we still haven’t the chance to talk!”

Caroline turned around to find a beaming JJ smiling at her. Had he come over from the boys table specifically for her? She could feel her cheeks beginning to burn slightly.

“We can talk,” she said quickly.

JJ took a seat next to her on the long bench. She could feel the heat in her cheeks become even hotter. JJ didn’t seem to notice her nervousness, or awkwardness.

“How’s life been then?” he asked.

Caroline took a deep breath to soothe her nerves, looking up, only to find a smirking Sarah crossing her arms across from her at the table.

“Just the regular, nothing too special,” she said, frowning quickly at Sarah before turning to face JJ again, hoping he hadn’t noticed Sarah’s behavior.

JJ jokingly frowned, “Nothing too special? I heard you got accepted into Charleston University, that’s like super special.”

Caroline cringed internally, “Did you happen to hear anything else by any chance?”

JJ smirked, “Not sure what you’re talking about,”

Caroline wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not but she pretended to not be bothered.

“Well I hear you’re throwing a party tonight,” Caroline crossed her arms in front of her.

JJ smirked even more, “Where’d you hear that from?”

“Why?” she tempted, “Is my source wrong?”

“Hardly,” JJ bit back, standing up, “So perhaps I’ll see you there.”

With that he walked back to where the other male counsellors were sat, giving one last look at Caroline, smirk never leaving his face.

Sarah started laughing loudly, “Looks like someone’s got their eye on little Carrie,” she teased, “Lucky, lucky bitch.”

Caroline rolled her eyes at her, “Bullshit,”

Sarah leaned over the table to whisper to Caroline, “I like the way you handled the situation, we’re definitely going to be there, on more occasions than one.”

Caroline looked at her watch, “Shit, it’s getting late, we better go now!”

And with that, they snuck their way out of the Wildcat Lodge and towards the boys’ cabin.

“Crap, the door’s locked!” Sarah cursed.

Caroline looked around. One of the upper windows seemed to be open. This gave her an idea.

“Sarah, do you still do cheerleading?” she looked at the girl, a plan forming in her brain.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, “What’s that got to do with anything? And duh, how else would my legs look this good?”

Caroline’s lips turned into a grin, “Give me a lift.”

Sarah’s eyes widened, “Excuse me?”

Caroline nodded her head towards the upper window and Sarah whined, “Why’s it always me?”

Silently, they rushed into position. Sarah took her stance, her hands ready to lift up Caroline’s body. Caroline balanced herself on Sarah’s shoulders as Sarah readied her hands to push her up. In one swift motion, Caroline had pulled herself in through the upper window and was now inside the cabin. She immediately went to the door to unlock the handle from the inside so that Sarah could let herself in.

The two girls looked around the space. It was dark and the only light penetrating into it was the one from the lamps outside. Three pairs of bunk beds were sitting there, covered in unpacked suitcases, boxes and bags.

“Great,” sighed Caroline in annoyance, “How are we ever going to figure out which one’s Routledge’s?”

Sarah took a better look at all of the bunk beds again, her eyes landing on one with a particularly large suitcase with a Green Peace sign on it, “My guess is that it’s that one.”

They went over to the suitcase and Sarah nervously leaned over it, “Eurgh, bug eating Routledge better not have live animals in there,” she said as she quickly ripped open the zipper, flinching away as soon as it came undone.

“That’s it!” Caroline excitedly said, “Help me pick it up!”

The suitcase contained three changes of clothes and a large box filled with unopened bottles of whiskey, just like they had heard John B brag about by the archery area. The two girls combined all of their strength to lift the heavy box off the bed and made their way towards the door, when they heard a loud thumping sound from the back of the cabin. Something heavy had fallen in the corner of the cabin that was unlit by the outdoor lamps, making both girls slightly jump and nearly tip over the box full of alcohol. They squinted their eyes in the direction where the sound came from, however they couldn’t make out anything in the thick darkness.

“What was that?” Sarah said nervously.

“Whatever it was,” Caroline said, leading them out of the door, “We can’t wait around to find out.”

With that they were out of the cabin, closing the door behind them and making their way back to their own cabin quickly.

They hid the box inside the storage room and decided to sneak back into the Wildcat Lodge, so that nobody would question their whereabouts.

There was half an hour left until the end of dinner service as Sarah and Caroline sat back at their designated table, trying to draw as little attention to themselves as they could.

“Do you think someone saw us in there?” whispered Sarah so that only Caroline could hear.

Caroline shrugged her shoulders, “I really hope not, but I did get the weird feeling that we were being watched once we heard that noise,”

Sarah shuddered, “Yeah, major heebie jeebies in there. Glad the boys got that cabin and not us.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, “Relax, Sarah, worst case scenario is it was just one of the guys and he saw us stealing tonight’s party supplies.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, “I swear to God if it was Routledge -”

“If it was Routledge, he wouldn’t have let us get away with it,”

“Shit, Carrie, you’re totally right!” Sarah unwillingly raised her voice, “Who do you think it was?”

Caroline shrugged again, “Honestly? I don’t think it was anyone, I just think something happened to fall down on its own.”

“Hmm… You’re probably right again.” Sarah turned to look at the big clock on the wall, “We’d better get going, we’ve got to get ready for that party you got invited to!” she winked at Caroline, smirking.

Caroline looked towards the boys table where JJ was already looking back at her, a smile dancing on his thin lips. She met his eyes and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. She decided to give him a little wave to which he happily waved back.

“Hello?” Sarah’s annoyed voice broke Caroline’s focus from JJ, “Are you coming or what? I want us to look good for when we see the guys’ disappointed faces tonight!”

Caroline sighed and followed Sarah out of the Lodge. Tonight was going to be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I know I only just uploaded the first part, but I want to establish the Camp Willowdale universe as fast as possible so that the actual story can take off and it does in the next part. I'm going to create a taglist for people who have shown interest in the story thus far, so if you want to be included, make sure to leave a reply so that I can include you in the next part.

Also if you haven't noticed so far, this story, aside from fun and romantic, will be quite campy so I hope you're into that. We've also got quite the mystery coming up so stay tuned for that as well x

Alsoooo please give me some inspiration on who I can base Caroline off, I'm kind of leaving her up to the reader's imagination so that you can just imagine yourself as her, but ideally I'd like to have someone who's picture I can use for future photos. I've got my mind set on Maia Mitchel, but feel free to drop recommendations too.

Anyways, let me know what you think this far and feel free to check out the rest of my works in my masterlist. xxx

Part 3 here