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One Prompt, Ten Authors, And Three Outcomes (Castle Rock, Westworld, Criminal Minds, all female)


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Okay, I’m ambivalent and my attention span has been ridiculously short lately. I couldn't focus on one fic, so I ended up with three, one finished and two that will be finished soon. Why make it easy on yourself, am I right? :rolleyes: Actually this first one has all the prompts in it and I could post it and settle with that, but I might be the only one here who's actually seen this show (at least the second season of it), so I want there to be at least some recognition and reading pleasure even for those who don't know it. I'll be busy for a few days, so I don't know when I'll be able to finish the two others, but they will be for the fandoms Westworld and Criminal Minds. 

The prompts are: doctor, allergies, vineyard, fog. 

This was a lot of fun to do and I hope it'll be a new tradition! Thanks @Reader for getting us to write! 


First out, because it's freshest in memory and therefore easiest to finish, let's have some Castle Rock, season 2. There are some spoilers for ep 1 and 2, but nothing you can’t figure out from the trailer alone. 

Symptoms (Castle Rock)


She started noticing the symptoms at work. At first she pushed it aside; she had spent all night filling up the hole she had fallen into when she dumped the body, and it had taken its toll. Annie wasn’t a big woman by any means, but it had been a big dang hole. So there was no wonder if her body ached and complained today. Quite natural, really. Movies and books made dumping a body seem easy, but Annie knew that wasn’t true. Especially not if you were a woman weighing in at 120 lbs, and he was a big, strong man at 180 or more.

So, no wonder she was in pain. No wonder she was exhausted, really, either. When she had returned home in the early morning hours, in the pouring rain, Joy had been beside herself with worry, and Annie had tried to calm her down while trying to manage her own mounting fear of getting caught, and it had ended in a fight. Well, not so much a fight, honestly, but she had raised her voice and scared Joy, and she regretted that with all her heart now. That feeling, that of being a horrible mother, adding to the feeling of achy, depressed misery.

Doctor H seemed to notice that something was off with her as well, and Anne didn’t like the way she looked at her.

It’s just paranoia, she told herself. The pills weren’t right, there was something about the pills that didn’t work right, this is all in your head, so act normal. Act normal.

The problem was that if Annie was off her meds for too long, or even if she just spiralled into panic, she no longer had a reliable sense of what normal was, and living on the fringe of society for so long didn’t help either. She was both intelligent and resourceful, but that didn’t help much when others noticed that you weren’t quite in tune with the world.

“HehTSSHHuh! AhhETSSHHuh!”

She sneezed twice, a very sudden double that came out of nowhere and that she barely had time to cover, then blinked in surprise, still trying to catch up with her own body’s abrupt antics. Then the need to sneeze struck her again, this time it came on slowly enough that she would have time to get her arm up to form a proper cover.

Bending forward, face buried into the crook of her arm, she sneezed again, thinking it would only be one. But the tickle refused to go away. It felt more like an allergic tickle than a random one, almost as if each sneeze pushed the itch into another, even more intense, level.  

“HempTSSHuh! Hehh… ehhhIISSSHew! Heh-! hehISSSHH! What in the world…?” Annie mumbled to herself. Even after this amount of sneezes, she still felt like she might have to sneeze again. But when she inhaled to make way for the sixth sneeze, the urge suddenly waned, leaving her half-way into a sneeze with that ridiculous ‘just-got-punched-in-the-guts’ sound escaping her as the tickle dissipated again.

“That was odd.” She looked around to see if she could find something that had set off her allergies, but she couldn’t spot anything. Of course, she couldn’t necessarily spot the dust or pollen by visuals alone either, her nose rebelling on her was the main clue that something wasn’t right. Once, many years ago, when they had been in California, they had briefly stopped at a vineyard. Annie didn’t drink, and the idea of losing control voluntarily was terrifying to her, but there was a big sign advertising that one of the vineyards was open for visitors to pick their own grapes, and Joy would not shut up about it, so Annie had reluctantly agreed. Of course it had turned out to be a wonderful outing, and the grapes were a delicious snack on the road later. But there was something besides grapevine that blossomed in that vineyard, and that something drove her allergies insane. She hadn’t stopped sneezing for hours, but she didn’t have the slightest clue what was causing it. So, if you didn’t know what it was you were looking for, it was dang hard to spot it.

Now she was starting to get a headache as well, a pounding, grinding ache that made her eyes water. All the regular sounds in the hospital seemed to be so much louder than normal, the fluorescent lights much sharper. Her thoughts felt like they were islands floating in a deep, thick fog. She was freezing, too. Shivering in her flimsy nurse’s outfit (today the one with ponies – Annie had one for each farm animal and she was probably more delighted with them herself than any of her patients were), she wished she had brought her cardigan, but it was in the laundry. It had been too close to the… scene. Blood spatter. Had to be washed right away.

She glanced at the clock. It was only 11 am. If she was going to make it through this whole shift, she was going to need a Tylenol or something.

She knocked on Nadia’s office door.

“Yep?”  Nadia looked up, and when she caught sight of the nurse, the line between her eyebrows deepened in genuine concern.

Annie leaned against the doorframe, dark circles around her eyes, complexion ashen, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her brow.

“Doctor H, I have a headache,” she said. “Real bad one. Do we have any Tylenol or something I can take? I don’t know the protocol for…” she trailed off, nostrils flaring with a sniffle that clearly didn’t have the result she wanted, because instead of resuming conversation, she took a couple of hitching breaths and sneezed twice into the crook of her arm.

“Heh-ITSShuh! HihESCHoo!”

Nadia bit her lip, contemplating the scene before her.

“Bless you. Come in here for a second.”

Annie looked at her, swallowed – her throat felt somewhat scratchy, but that could be the aftermath of the sneezes, or another side effect from her meds – and came inside. Part of her was certain that Nadia already knew what she had done, and it didn’t matter that she knew better. Nobody had seen her. It was impossible. But she didn’t trust her own mind all that much, either.

“Sit,” Nadia said, gesturing to the exam table.

“Why, what’s…” Annie began, but Nadia interrupted her as she removed the plastic cover from one of the tongue depressors.

“Open your mouth,” she said, and Annie did as she was told, despite thinking this whole thing was ridiculous – she had a pounding headache and wanted some Tylenol, not an entire health exam, for crying out loud.

“Hmm,” Nadia said as she looked down Annie’s throat, then pressed her fingers gently against her neck, feeling for swollen glands. “See, I’m pretty sure you’re coming down with the flu. We had another nurse who went home sick last night, so I’m not surprised more will follow.”

“The flu?” Annie said. “Is that going around already?”

“Yeah, it struck early this year, we’ve just started the flu shots program, so not everyone has gotten one. Bad luck. Obviously, I need to send you home,” Nadia said. Annie nodded, embarrassed that she hadn’t picked up on the signs herself. Some nurse she was.

“Yes, of course.”

“Here’s the thing though, since high fevers can trigger an episode, even if you’re on antipsychotics, I want you to call me if you feel one coming on,”, Nadia said as she felt Annie’s forehead. “Well, you most certainly have a fever.”

“So… if I had an… episode… it could just be because of the flu?”

Nadia stared at her uncomfortably close, and Annie broke eye contact.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Anne?”

“I just… thought I saw something last night. But it couldn’t be, because he wasn’t there. He couldn’t have been, because he was dead.”

Oh Christmas, Annie, stop talking before you confess everything!

“It’s very possible that it has to do with the flu coming on,” Nadia said with a sigh. “But just to be on the safe side, I’ll come and check on you after my shift. And have Joy – that’s your daughter’s name, right? – have Joy call me if she’s worried, too. Are you taking your pills?”

Annie nodded. Tears started to fill her eyes.

“I just want this to end! I’m trying so hard to be a good person, to be the real me, the good me, b-but…” the rest of the sentence drowned in a sob.

“You are a good person, Anne. Because you’re trying. There’s no progress to be made from giving up, is there? Right now you feel like everything is falling apart, but that’s because you’re sick. No one can be their best self when they’re sick. Okay? I’ll get you something for the fever and the headache, but the best you can do right now is get fluids and sleep. Lots of it.”

“Okay,” she said, wiping at her eyes, sniffling.

“You alright to drive?”

“I’m not seeing things now, if that’s what you’re asking… Eh-igtSSCHoo!”

Nadia smirked.

“I was actually referring to the flu symptoms now. Don’t sneeze yourself into another accident, okay?”

Annie smiled weakly.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“If I got anybody else sick. I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t get sick on purpose. It’s alright Anne, we’ve got this. Go home and rest now. I’ll make a house call after hours, check up on you.”

Annie nodded and stood up.

“Thank you.” She got to the door, paused for a moment, then turned around and said it again, with even more emphasis. For the first time since she left Bakersfield all those years ago, she thought there might be a possibility that things would turn out alright. 

But what Annie didn't know, was that nothing stayed dead in this town.


Edited by Chanel_no5
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Would it be obnoxious to quote the whole interaction between Nadia and Annie? Asking for a friend! Hahahahaha 

I ships dem! It’s steamy because of the fetishy aspects, but there’s such a cute caretaking aura there as well. And I’m so down for that house call or any house calls between them! 


You spoiled us with all the delicious descriptions! 

I enjoyed the mystery-type feeling you infused into this story. Why she’s sneezing, the details of how she’s feeling, what made her sneeze in the past, and then bringing it all together to say that it was hard to spot. I really like that line.

Storywise, personality-wise, and emotional impact-wise, you nailed it! I say that not because I’ve seen the show but because I felt like I was watching the show while reading. 

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I thought it was funny, in a morbid way, when she shrugs off the initial flu aches and pains with a nonchalant “oh, but I dumped a dead body yesterday, so no wonder I’m achy today.” :rofl:  

Hehehe, I’m glad you saw the ship potentials there too, because I saw them almost immediately. LOL  Annie is very capable, in her own neurotic way, but if there’s one character I felt, from the get-go, could hold her own in any situation, that’s Nadia. And those two would be cute together. ^^ So tell your "friend" that nope, not obnoxious at all to quote that interaction! :yay: 

I'm so new to it that I don't think I've nailed the characters well enough yet, but honestly, Annie is such a difficult character to write anyway because she's both smart and insightful and driven, at the same time that she's incredibly naïve, fearful and shy, and on top of that her mental illnesses make her paranoid, periodically out of touch with reality,  sometimes aggressive and violent, and prone to depressive bouts. **  And she changes on a dime, so being in her mind is a rollercoaster. Nadia has gone though more than enough trauma herself, but she's at least mentally healthy and so able to cope with situations better. 

16 hours ago, Reader said:

And I’m so down for that house call or any house calls between them! 

I didn't plan for it to get a part 2, but once I've wrapped up the other fics and Secret Santa and stuff, that might very well happen... :shifty:

Thank you!!! :heart:  I'm working on the second fic now, so we'll see if I finish it over the weekend. :D 


** Almost felt like was describing myself there. :lol:  I'm not really Annie level. I think. I hope. :unsure::lol: 

Edited by Chanel_no5
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Aaaaaaaaaaaaand here's my second fic with the same prompts. It was kind of fun because I felt "allowed" to do something different for this. While most of my Westworld fics are about Theresa and Bernard, I thought it would be fun to let Ford toy around with Theresa a little bit as well. Because, well... he does that. :lol: 

Prompts are still as above: doctor, vineyard, allergies, fog. 

Fandom: Westworld, season 1. I would be so, super happy if anyone would comment on it, because I'm not confident writing Theresa without Bernard. :P  😁

A Small Game Of Cat And Mouse (Westworld)


Dr Robert Ford was already seated on the terrace overlooking the vineyard, sipping a glass of fine red wine made from the grapes of that very vineyard. The other chair at the table was still empty. But he knew she was coming.

The sun was slowly descending, spilling its dying light across the sky and painting the clouds in gold and red. Down by the river, slow tendrils of fog began to rise from the moving water.

The sound of high heels, clicking against the marble flooring, pierced the silence.

“Miss Cullen,” he said, voice calm and pleasant, “I expected you to arrive sooner.”

“I apologise, Dr Ford, I was held up at Narrative,” Theresa said. She sounded a bit out of breath, which could be because she had walked fast, or because she smoked too much. Maybe a bit of both.

“Mr Sizemore giving you a hard time, is he?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

The head of Quality Assurance sat down, and did so very elegantly. For all her brash attitude, she could most certainly act like a lady when she wanted to… besides, Ford knew she was intimidated by him. She tried her hardest not to let it show, and she was good at it – but he had been in the business of figuring people’s minds out for many years, and he was better. It wasn’t bragging, it was plain truth.

She reached for the wine glass waiting for her, holding up the glass and allowing the coppery flame of the sunset to illuminate the dark red liquid. She said nothing, only studied the richness of the colour. Ford approved of this; she knew that wine was something to be admired, not gulped down.

“We cultivated this vineyard the same year we opened the park,” Ford said. “This bottle is from the first harvest. A fine year.” He took a sip. “Probably the finest.”

Theresa said nothing, only sipped her own wine, allowing herself to fully enjoy the taste and richness of it. 

They sat in silence for almost a minute, before Theresa took another small sip and put the glass down again. 

“I agree. It was a fine year.”

Ford smiled. He could hear her impatient ‘let's get to business’ between the lines, but he was going to ignore it. Oh, sure, it would annoy her, but she wouldn’t dare to confront him or try to rush him. It was only a small game of cat and mouse, at least in the grand scheme of things, but nevertheless a rather enjoyable one.


Theresa’s eyes itched. The light breeze coming in from the desert wasn’t strong enough to carry a whole lot of dust, but it was strong enough to carry pollen. She was miserably allergic to something that bloomed in the desert this time of year, and would much rather have had this meeting at Ford’s office. Or her office. Or any of the indoors facilities at the mesa.

She hadn’t taken her allergy meds – precisely because she had assumed she would be working indoors – and so she would prefer to get this conversation over with before her histamine-wrecked body went haywire.

Ford, however, wasn’t one to pick up his comfortable pace to humour her, so she had to switch tactics and follow his lead instead. That might end up being faster than trying to nudge him in a direction he wasn’t going to move, but not as fast as Theresa wanted. So she reluctantly fell in line. Sipped the wine. It was likely the best she had ever tasted, and it was a shame that she soon wouldn’t be able to taste it at all.

The breeze from the desert intensified for a few moments, tousled her hair and sprinkled God knew how much pollen over her, like little particles of glitter. Spiky, prickly, tickly glitter, almost too small to see with the naked eye.

Not too small to drive her sinuses insane, though.

Theresa put down the wine glass and gave her elegant nose a firm rub, followed by an unplanned sniffle.

“I wanted to speak to you about the new storylines,” Ford said. “There will be some adjustments.”

Theresa frowned.

“Is there a reason I only hear about this now?” She cleared her throat and sniffled again. The itch was spreading, and quickly. “I need to give the Board a report regarding the developments in…” her breath caught in her throat for a moment, in what desperately wanted to become a buildup to a sneeze. She forced herself to keep talking. “… in Narrative. Are you telling me there will be changes in the storylines themselves?”

“Miss Cullen, what doesn’t change becomes obsolete. Mr Sizemore’s fantasies have dominated the park for years, and you must agree that it has become depraved as of late.”

“Are you asking for my personal opinion, or my professional?”

She rubbed her nose again. She could almost picture the evil grains of pollen scraping against the sensitive inside of her nose, scraping and prickling, and the stinging in her eyes would soon make them water. Fuck this, she wanted an antihistamine and she wanted Bernard to distract her from the allergic reaction until the pills kicked in.

Ford chuckled.

“Quite frankly, I’m not asking for your opinion at all.”

“Then I see no reason to comment on it either.” Theresa was getting closer to the point where she’d just get up from her seat, say ‘fuck this!’ and go back inside. She already would have done that, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was speaking to Dr Robert Ford, the park’s creator. She wasn’t easily intimidated by people; she knew to stay within rank and not question higher-ups, at least not too vocally, but she wasn’t someone who would cower if anyone raised their voice, or back off from some phony threats. But Dr Ford unnerved her. She wasn’t scared of him, exactly; he hadn’t actually done anything, but in Theresa’s mind, that sentence ended with a caveat. Yet. He hadn’t actually done anything yet.

“I must inform you that Mr Sizemore will no longer be writing the main storylines. He will fill in the gaps and create minor storylines to interconnect with the main ones, but from now on, I will be responsible for the main narratives myself.”

“With all due respect, the Board may not take kindly to that kind of abrupt change,” Theresa said. Had it been anyone but Ford, she would have said ‘are you out of your fucking mind?!’ or something equally to-the-point.

She rubbed her nose again, even harder this time, then pinched her trembling, scarlet nostrils between her thumb and forefinger in a last-ditch attempt at staving off the unavoidable. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. Her breath was already hitching as her body braced for the inevitable allergy attack.

“Excuse me, I... I have to sneeze,” she said, as if that wasn’t obvious already, and leaned away from the table, doubling over as the need to sneeze overtook her fully.


 The sneezes were so harsh they tore at her throat, but unfortunately did nothing to calm the itch which was spreading like wildfire, embers of allergic irritation moving rapidly from one spot to the next.

“EeeRRSHHoo! HahEESSHHH! HA-EESSCHHoo! Heh… ehhh… heh-ahhh…”

Tears trickled down her cheeks, her eye makeup began to smear as her eyelids fluttered.


Ford had calmly finished his wine while Theresa wrestled with her allergies, still admiring the view of the vineyard at sunset in quiet contemplation. Now he stood up, reached into his pocket and took out a soft, luxurious handkerchief, unfolded it, and dropped it in Theresa’s lap as he walked past her.

“Inform the Board of the changes, Miss Cullen. Have a good evening.”




Edited by Chanel_no5
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So, I finished the third one this afternoon, so here goes. I had a lot of fun (too much fun, evidently, since I couldn't even run with one story) doing this! :lol:  I hope it's a fun read too, and I definitely hope we'll do this again next year!


This is the Criminal Minds one, and I haven't seen the show in ages (not available on my streaming services), plus I stopped watching after season 10, (this takes place somewhere in season 8-9), so I'm hopelessly out of the loop, but I hope it's a good read anyway. I love Blake so... it was a good write. ^^

The Vineyard Trail (Criminal Minds)


A rainstorm had struck in the early hours of the morning, and even though it had stopped raining, the sun was trapped in a prison of thick grey clouds, and curtains of fog hovered above the squishy ground of the vineyard.

The dead body was still lying where it had been found earlier, face down in the dirt. The crime scene techs had documented the area and given them a brief overview. No fresh footprints other than the victim’s, he had a gunshot wound to the back of his neck, and there was a word written on his back.


JJ put on the blue protective gloves and carefully poked at the letters, then looked up at her colleague.

“It’s not smudging. Could be waterproof ink. Does the word mean anything to you?”

Blake still had her hands in the pockets of her coat, regarding the scene with as little bias as she could.

“Wrath, that’s one of the seven deathly sins.”

“It’s also the main reason people whack each other,” a voice said from her right, and she turned and met the eye of the local sheriff. He held out his hand, and Blake shook it briefly.

“Summers, I’m the sheriff. You’re the feds, right?” He scoffed. “Why even ask, you reek of DC.”

Blake pretended not to notice his disdain, but used her highest title when she introduced herself, something she rarely did on the field.

“I’m Doctor Blake, and this is Agent Jareau.”

JJ shook hands with him as well, and the moment he turned to look at the body on the ground, she exchanged a quick glance with Blake.

Oh great, one of those.

Blake rolled her eyes, then smiled.

“Do you really think someone goes to the trouble of killing the owner of this place clean, and then write one of the deathly sins on his back?”

“We don’t have a hypothesis yet, sheriff,” Blake said and rubbed her nose to rid herself of a light tickle. “We try to look at the scene as a whole and keep an open mind.”

“So he’s the owner of the vineyard?” JJ interjected.

“Vineyard, winery, tourist cottages,” the sheriff said. “Infamous for milking the tourists.”

JJ raised her eyebrows.


Blake was rubbing her nose again. The tickle seemed to return with a little bit more force each time she thought it had vanished. She was starting to think she might have to sneeze, but she was going to fight it off as long as she could.

“Though that doesn’t fit with the sin,” Blake said, and an audible congestion had already crept into her voice. “Greed would make more sense.”

JJ gave her a surprised look.

“You okay? You sound a bit…”

“Nktt! NktSH! NnktSShew!”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you. Sorry about that.” Blake cleared her throat and rubbed her nose with her wrist, trying to regain focus. “Was he found without a shirt on? That’s odd.”

What was even odder was that she still felt like she had to sneeze. She sniffled, which somehow only managed to drive the twinge deeper into her sinuses.

“See if anyone can find the shirt somewhere,” JJ told the sheriff.

“Why would that matter? You think that’s a print rubbing off, or something?”

“No,” Blake said, pointing to the gunshot wound at the base of his neck. “But there could be g-gunpowhh-powd… hehh…" giving up her attempts to speak, she turned away and let two half-stifles spray into her elbow. "HegtSCH! 'scuse me-nntSHew!

“Bless you,” JJ said again, frowning.

“Gunpowder residue,” Blake said, trying to resume a straight face.

“I’ll talk to my guys,” the sheriff said and walked off. Blake was grateful for it, because she was certain she was going to sneeze again.

“Are you coming down with something, Alex?” JJ watched her closely, but Blake shook her head and tried to downplay it.

“I’m fine. It’s just a tickle.” She momentarily pressed the back of her hand against her nose, closing her eyes as another sneeze teased and tickled and threatened to burst forward, but then the urge went away. “Wait a second.”

“Hm?” JJ said.

“Wrath.” Blake straightened up and looked around at the rows and rows of grapevine. “Grapes of wrath.”

“That’s John Steinbeck, isn’t it?”

“It is. I don’t know if it has any significance, but worth considering.” She sniffled again, shook her head slightly as the sneezy expression came over her face again. “H-hold on…” she turned away from JJ and got her wrist up to her face, releasing a ticklish triple against it. “Heh-nkTSSHew! HehSSHHoo! Ah-ESSHHoo! Oh my God!”

“What’s…” JJ began, then her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

Blake looked up just in time to see a couple of riders coming towards them. Riders. As in on horseback.

“Oh damnit,” she muttered, realising just why her nose had been itching like mad for the past fifteen minutes or so. The riders must have been close by, riding down some other row of the vineyard, and that was all it took to set off Blake’s infamous horse allergy.

“Okay, let’s go back to the car,” JJ said.

“I’ll be fine,” Blake tried, “hehh… eeASCHoo! NktSCHew! Really, JJ, I’m… hahh… I’m okay… Hah-iSSCHew!

“Let’s go,” JJ said, putting a gentle hand on her colleague’s shoulder. “You need some meds.”

They went back the same way they had come, and unfortunately, a tourist group on horseback had gathered on the field, where the local police informed them that the vineyard trail was off limits.

It felt to Blake like all she could see through her reddening, watery eyes were tails and manes swaying in the breeze, riders patting their steed and sending a million particles of hair and dander into the air, and somehow it felt like all of it ended up hitting her straight in the face.

She was so allergic to horses it was ridiculous, and it only seemed to get worse. Either that, or the simple fact that she now was aware of how allergic she was caused an additional psychosomatic reaction on top of the physical. She wasn’t entirely sure.

As they walked towards the car, she brought a hand up to her face, now pinching her nose shut in an attempt to hold the rest of the impending allergy attack in. The itch was unbearable, and by now it was spreading to her throat and her eyes. A steady flow of tears trickled out of her large brown eyes, and she tried to blink them away.

Her head bobbed forward with a whole series of breathless stifles, and more tears streamed out of her eyes as she kept closing them as another sneeze shook her.

JJ picked up her cell phone and called Hotch.

“Hotch? Did you know there was a riding trail going through the vineyard?”

She heard him suck in air between gritted teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighed.

“Get Blake back to the hotel and go back to the vineyard. I’m sending Morgan to join you there.”

“Okay.” She took a good look at Blake, who had gone from competent agent and linguistics professor to miserable allergic mess in a few minutes. “I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

“I just…” Blake said, squashed another couple of sneezes into harshly contained stifles and then continued, “I just need s-some… ahh… aehSSHEW! ISSCHew! Antihihh-ISSSHew! Antihistamines…”

“Hotch’s orders,” JJ said as she led the other woman around the car and helped her get into the passenger’s seat. “Horses really don’t like you, do they?” she said. Blake looked up at her, flushed, red-nosed, and drippy.

“That’s very much mutual.” Her face scrunched up as another sneeze began to take hold of her, and she once more pinched her nose and tried to stifle the next outburst.

“You shouldn’t do that,” JJ said. “Stifling them, I mean. It’s alright, Alex, I don’t mind. Just let them out.”

Blake knew she soon wouldn’t have a choice either way, but until that moment came, she was going to keep whatever remnant of control and poise that she still had.

“NGTxth! Nktt! NGTxt!”

JJ sighed and went around to the driver’s seat.

“Suit yourself, then,” she mumbled to herself and shook her head at her colleague’s stubbornness. But then again… this entire team was just as stubborn, so why would Blake be any different?


Edited by Chanel_no5
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Whew!!!! The Westworld story was HOTT!! I love the tone you set, the opposite pacing of both characters, and then the falling apart near the end. Very sexy! I did not expect to enjoy this more than Bernie and Theresa. I’m almost ashamed of myself. Almost *smirks an evil grin because I’m swept into the tone of this story. Have a good evening.* 


Awwww Blake, I felt so bad for her and was really glad JJ was there to help! And you know I had the strongest urge after JJ said, “Let it out. I don’t mind,” to be like “She don’t mind!” Hahahahahaha The Grapes of Wrath angle was really cool by the way.


Thanks for joining OPTA!! 🤗 🤗🤗

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Okay I love all of these!  And it's so impressive that you created three whole stories out of the same prompts, each one with it's own distinct tone and feeling and everything.  :omg: I liked the Westworld one very much but even though I don't know the other two fandoms they were still very enjoyable and definitely written so that you don't need to know the fandom to understand them.

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