Campfire Chronicles

Storys form me for you, at my little virtual campfire.

[campfire-chronicles]

My little campfire to share storys

Take a seat, share the warmth, and treat the people here with care. Different views are okay; unkindness is not.

You can find a currated SFW version of this blog here and an overview on the Masterlist.

Pretty much everthing else lives my personal blog Hexenratte.

I don’t fulfill requests. You’re welcome to send ideas.

If you want to know what I enjoy reading, check my recommendations blog.

Treat others the way you want to be treated. When in doubt, be kind.

Main rule: As long as all parties are consenting adults, they can do whatever they want—in my head and my stories.

I will not write:

non-consensual or dubiously consensual content

sexual interactions involving minors

RPF (real person fiction)

Works containing mature content (including sexual content and/or violence) are set as Mature Content using Tumblr’s post settings.

They are only visible after an explicit opt-in (18+).

Consent matters to me — not only within stories, but in what readers are shown. I will not knowingly expose people to content they did not choose to see.

Voting Time - Which series will I write next?

Standalone works. No series commitment required.

Currently:

Cap Holds The Floor - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

You vs Monday - Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

No Way in Hell - John Shen x Jesse Van Horn x fem!succubus!reader

Between Always & Never - The Pitt Jack Abbot - ongoing (10 Chapters)

Spot on - Chicago PD AU — Series (7 Chapters)

Sleepy Eye - Supernatural - case fic Mini-Series complet (5 Chapters)

In this case Works of Art like moodboards and headers. I will create a Masterlist, when I have more to show.

The visual anchors used here were created specifically for this space. If you’re interested in something similar, you can ask.

If you want to know what I love reading, this lives on a separate recommendations blog.

This space is for sharing, not promotion pressure.

[campfire-chronicles]

Round 2 - Second Pitch - What Counts

I've now decided my moodboards need quotes.

Let me introduce Figure.

She is the daughter and accountant of a high table familiy.

Her farther Gregori says, "You're just an accountant."

Because her younger brother Sascha is the heir.

When it comes to settling a long term conflict with another family? She's a means to an end.

Her husband by contract, Konstantin "Kostya", wants her gone. He figures she's dangerours to his interrests. Due to her loyalty to her family.

So, how can she beat the system?

contenderlist

[campfire-chronicles]

Meet Det. Ryan Burke

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

Breakfast, boundaries and a homicide detective. Not necessarily in that order.

Warnings: Boundaries discussions, silly nicknames and a dead body

It takes you a full minute to remember where you are. Darkness, the low, even sound of someone breathing. The familiar but not quite right scent of linen – different detergent, not the one you use. The texture of a firm mattress, and a body beside you. Jack. His hand on your wrist, loose but unmoving, as if he fell asleep counting your pulse.

Before you can check the time – Jack rumbles in your ear, “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Were you waiting for me to wake up?”

“You’re a very comfortable pillow.”

“Thanks. Your pillow would like to go the bathroom now.”

Jack untangles himself from you. “Sure. Training right after, okay? Or do I need to feed you first?”

You blink – then you remember what you decided before you fell asleep last night and grin.

“Training before breakfast is fine, Shepherd,” you answer and leave the room.

When you come back Jack is already in workout gear and has his prosthetic on. He looks up and blocks your way as you head for the door.

“Who is Shepherd?” Jack sounds hurt.

So, you clarify, “Shepherd is your new nickname.”

“You’re joking.” Now, that’s pure disbelief.

You counter, “No, you’re exactly like the Australian Shepherd my best friend’s parents had during high school.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No. That’s an observation. You always wanna keep me in your sights, you’re competitive, you constantly turned on and you’re maddeningly practical,” you lay out your reasoning for the name.

“My dear Raccoon, if you insist on this stupid nickname, I might get an actual Australian Shepherd. Just so you can do a fair comparison,” he threatens.

Suppressing a laugh, you remind him, “No, you won’t. 12 hour-shifts are incompatible with a work intensive breed. And you wouldn’t get a dog just to leave it with someone else most of the time.”

Jack huffs, “Get dressed and meet me in the gym.” Leaving the bedroom in long strides. You consider if you may have actually offended him. Well, even if he started the whole thing. And Raccoon is not exactly a compliment either. You head to the guestroom to change.

The Workout starts quietly and with you a little envious at Jack’s top of the line real water rowing machine. You do your first interval and you stare at the display for the whole 3 minutes. Because the counter doesn’t move beyond 35 strokesper minute – not once. 40 is your target pace on a good day you can reach 50 in the second and third interval. You try to check the settings. But no matter how often or how long you press the buttons the menu doesn’t open.

“Maybe, yesterday’s dinner indulgence was a little much?” you hear Jack’s nagging voice beside you.

You give him the side eye and start your second interval. And the rowing count gets to 38 – once. You’re tempted to just stop, write the training off, switch to circuit training or stop all together. Then settle at doing three intervals instead of your usual five to six and call it an off-day. This time you ignore the counter and settle into the rhythm. For cooldown you pull up the heartrate monitor on your phone and set it in front for the display.

“You’re done already?” Jack asks.

“I still have to work today. And your machine seems to have different settings than mine.”

“Hm. You could say that.”

“Jack! You changed the settings after I warmed up?”

He nods.

You leave the room without a word. Teasing you can take and you’ll give as good as you get. But messing with your workout before breakfast. You consider to just pack and leave. Instead, you grab your gun, holster and a light jacket and go to walk your anger off.

15 minutes into your walk through the depressingly bare forest your phone rings. It’s Jack. You pick up.

“I went for a walk. I’ll be back in 15.”

And hang up.

True to your word you’re back at Jack’s apartment 15 minutes later. You don’t have to knock. Jack opens the door before you can.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I wanted to tease you a little. And... went the wrong way about it.”

“Jack. You’re constantly pushing my boundaries. Which I never appreciate. But when it comes to my work, my workout or my food? Do yourself a favour and leave those alone.”

“I’ll... try. Shower together?”

“No. I’m not a fan of make-up sex.”

“Ugh. There’s a lot to be said about make-up sex.” He steps into your space.

You consider it. Then shake your head.

“No. So, how about I shower and YOU make it up to me with breakfast?”

“Anything in particular?”

“Chocolate Pancakes, bacon and eggs, peanut butter sandwiches.”

Jack looks taken aback and swallows, “Are those options or the menu?”

You give him a look. “The menu.”

He sighs, “Give me 20 minutes.”

Jack stays true to his word and he makes decent Chocolate Pancakes. Three pancakes, a healthy helping of bacon and eggs as well as a peanut butter sandwich later you find yourself inclined to forgive Jack.

“Does Shepherd really bother you that much, Jack?”

“I’m not sure if I should answer that.”

“You’re aware the raccoons are basically masked mini criminals that can’t be legally arrested?”

“I never thought about them that way. I think they’re smart and adaptable.”

“As well as ferocious eaters and lots of trouble.”

He looks pointedly at the table with the remains of the three-course breakfast menu and huffs, “Can we agree the nicknames stay between us?”

“Four eyes only. So, about the rest of today...,” you put a hand on his thigh.

“You mean the next three hours,” he clarifies taking hold of your chin.

You shrug, “I mean how about we take your time for once.”

“Sounds good,” he says and plants his lips firmly on yours.

The next three hours you spend cuddling mostly clothed in bed talking about music, films and series. Jack draws back before six and starts getting dressed.

“Hey, it’s like 10 minutes to the district and only 15 more to PTMC.”

“I have to meet Robby before shift.”

“Dr. Robinavitch? Why?”

“Because he’s my friend and I turned down a shift two days ago.”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“Apparently, I always cover. So, not agreeing to it raised some questions.”

“Which you’re not obligated to answer.”

“Of course not, but he’s my friend. So, you coming?”

You grumble but go to the guest room to put on your uniform, while Jack disappears in the direction of the kitchen.

20 minutes later Jack parks in your spot in the district’s employee parking lot. He hands you a steel container. You shoot him a look.

“Oats, protein powder, milk, apples and cinnamon – warm. Your last meal was three and a half hours ago.”

Chuckling you take the container and lean over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Shepherd.” Then you jump out of Jack’s Jeep before he can reply.

The early arrival gives you time to walk over to the dry cleaner and drop off your laundry bag. 20 minutes before your shift starts you head to the entrance, determined to catch up with Micki before going on patrol. You notice the redhead beside the entrance, that looks like shit warmed over. But you pay him no mind – until he steps in your path.

“Officer Morgan, correct?”

Your eyes flicker to the Detective badge he’s displaying at his belt.

“Yes, Detective...?”

“Ryan Burke. Your new partner for this case,” he says casually taking a sip of his coffee.

You narrow your eyes, “What case?”

“The murder of Colleen Fernandez.”

You think, ‘Well, that sucks for her.’ While asking, “When was she found?”

“At 4:43 this morning in St. Mary Catholic Cemetery.”

Which leaves only one question, “And I got assigned as your partner because?”

“Because I don’t currently have a partner and you already know the victim and the case.”

Okay, two questions, “What happened with your last partner?”

“I slept with him. It didn’t work out.”

Now, you remember, “Oh, right you’re that Irish former Ranger. That got transferred from narcotics to homicide.”

Burke grimaces, “Sounds like me. Ready to start?”

You sidestep him and head for the doors, “Ready to check-in with Sergeant Wolf.”

Inside it smells like home. If your home smells like stale coffee and whatever they clean the floor with, that is. Sergeant Wolf is sorting car keys and looks up as you approach.

“Officer Morgan. I see you’ve met your new partner. He already has the keys to your assigned car. You’ll be working from the upstairs office homicide regularly uses here. You’ll be reporting to homicide on this one. Bring each other up to speed and take care.”

She basically just stated I’ve got everything organized get going. Without telling you why, so “Sergeant Wolf? May I please ask – why I suddenly got assigned to a homicide detective?”

“Because Fernandez is dead, after she sent you that package, after you arrested her, Det. Burke needs a partner and I don’t want you out there alone at the moment. Plus, you’re overdue for a promotion.”

“Ugh. Thank you, Sergeant.” It’s really all you can say. Because overdue is not exactly right, there were any number of officers in the district that had been here longer. However, you decide to introduce Burke to Micki first – should be interesting.

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming 30th of July)

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @amacphet

[campfire-chronicles]

Relationship milestone unlocked: arguing over whether "Raccoon" is actually a compliment.

“You’re aware the raccoons are basically masked mini criminals that can’t be legally arrested?”

“I never thought about them that way. I think they’re smart and adaptable.”

“As well as ferocious eaters and lots of trouble.”

[campfire-chronicles]

Meet Det. Ryan Burke

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

Breakfast, boundaries and a homicide detective. Not necessarily in that order.

Warnings: Boundaries discussions, silly nicknames and a dead body

It takes you a full minute to remember where you are. Darkness, the low, even sound of someone breathing. The familiar but not quite right scent of linen – different detergent, not the one you use. The texture of a firm mattress, and a body beside you. Jack. His hand on your wrist, loose but unmoving, as if he fell asleep counting your pulse.

Before you can check the time – Jack rumbles in your ear, “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Were you waiting for me to wake up?”

“You’re a very comfortable pillow.”

“Thanks. Your pillow would like to go the bathroom now.”

Jack untangles himself from you. “Sure. Training right after, okay? Or do I need to feed you first?”

You blink – then you remember what you decided before you fell asleep last night and grin.

“Training before breakfast is fine, Shepherd,” you answer and leave the room.

When you come back Jack is already in workout gear and has his prosthetic on. He looks up and blocks your way as you head for the door.

“Who is Shepherd?” Jack sounds hurt.

So, you clarify, “Shepherd is your new nickname.”

“You’re joking.” Now, that’s pure disbelief.

You counter, “No, you’re exactly like the Australian Shepherd my best friend’s parents had during high school.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No. That’s an observation. You always wanna keep me in your sights, you’re competitive, you constantly turned on and you’re maddeningly practical,” you lay out your reasoning for the name.

“My dear Raccoon, if you insist on this stupid nickname, I might get an actual Australian Shepherd. Just so you can do a fair comparison,” he threatens.

Suppressing a laugh, you remind him, “No, you won’t. 12 hour-shifts are incompatible with a work intensive breed. And you wouldn’t get a dog just to leave it with someone else most of the time.”

Jack huffs, “Get dressed and meet me in the gym.” Leaving the bedroom in long strides. You consider if you may have actually offended him. Well, even if he started the whole thing. And Raccoon is not exactly a compliment either. You head to the guestroom to change.

The Workout starts quietly and with you a little envious at Jack’s top of the line real water rowing machine. You do your first interval and you stare at the display for the whole 3 minutes. Because the counter doesn’t move beyond 35 strokesper minute – not once. 40 is your target pace on a good day you can reach 50 in the second and third interval. You try to check the settings. But no matter how often or how long you press the buttons the menu doesn’t open.

“Maybe, yesterday’s dinner indulgence was a little much?” you hear Jack’s nagging voice beside you.

You give him the side eye and start your second interval. And the rowing count gets to 38 – once. You’re tempted to just stop, write the training off, switch to circuit training or stop all together. Then settle at doing three intervals instead of your usual five to six and call it an off-day. This time you ignore the counter and settle into the rhythm. For cooldown you pull up the heartrate monitor on your phone and set it in front for the display.

“You’re done already?” Jack asks.

“I still have to work today. And your machine seems to have different settings than mine.”

“Hm. You could say that.”

“Jack! You changed the settings after I warmed up?”

He nods.

You leave the room without a word. Teasing you can take and you’ll give as good as you get. But messing with your workout before breakfast. You consider to just pack and leave. Instead, you grab your gun, holster and a light jacket and go to walk your anger off.

15 minutes into your walk through the depressingly bare forest your phone rings. It’s Jack. You pick up.

“I went for a walk. I’ll be back in 15.”

And hang up.

True to your word you’re back at Jack’s apartment 15 minutes later. You don’t have to knock. Jack opens the door before you can.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I wanted to tease you a little. And... went the wrong way about it.”

“Jack. You’re constantly pushing my boundaries. Which I never appreciate. But when it comes to my work, my workout or my food? Do yourself a favour and leave those alone.”

“I’ll... try. Shower together?”

“No. I’m not a fan of make-up sex.”

“Ugh. There’s a lot to be said about make-up sex.” He steps into your space.

You consider it. Then shake your head.

“No. So, how about I shower and YOU make it up to me with breakfast?”

“Anything in particular?”

“Chocolate Pancakes, bacon and eggs, peanut butter sandwiches.”

Jack looks taken aback and swallows, “Are those options or the menu?”

You give him a look. “The menu.”

He sighs, “Give me 20 minutes.”

Jack stays true to his word and he makes decent Chocolate Pancakes. Three pancakes, a healthy helping of bacon and eggs as well as a peanut butter sandwich later you find yourself inclined to forgive Jack.

“Does Shepherd really bother you that much, Jack?”

“I’m not sure if I should answer that.”

“You’re aware the raccoons are basically masked mini criminals that can’t be legally arrested?”

“I never thought about them that way. I think they’re smart and adaptable.”

“As well as ferocious eaters and lots of trouble.”

He looks pointedly at the table with the remains of the three-course breakfast menu and huffs, “Can we agree the nicknames stay between us?”

“Four eyes only. So, about the rest of today...,” you put a hand on his thigh.

“You mean the next three hours,” he clarifies taking hold of your chin.

You shrug, “I mean how about we take your time for once.”

“Sounds good,” he says and plants his lips firmly on yours.

The next three hours you spend cuddling mostly clothed in bed talking about music, films and series. Jack draws back before six and starts getting dressed.

“Hey, it’s like 10 minutes to the district and only 15 more to PTMC.”

“I have to meet Robby before shift.”

“Dr. Robinavitch? Why?”

“Because he’s my friend and I turned down a shift two days ago.”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“Apparently, I always cover. So, not agreeing to it raised some questions.”

“Which you’re not obligated to answer.”

“Of course not, but he’s my friend. So, you coming?”

You grumble but go to the guest room to put on your uniform, while Jack disappears in the direction of the kitchen.

20 minutes later Jack parks in your spot in the district’s employee parking lot. He hands you a steel container. You shoot him a look.

“Oats, protein powder, milk, apples and cinnamon – warm. Your last meal was three and a half hours ago.”

Chuckling you take the container and lean over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Shepherd.” Then you jump out of Jack’s Jeep before he can reply.

The early arrival gives you time to walk over to the dry cleaner and drop off your laundry bag. 20 minutes before your shift starts you head to the entrance, determined to catch up with Micki before going on patrol. You notice the redhead beside the entrance, that looks like shit warmed over. But you pay him no mind – until he steps in your path.

“Officer Morgan, correct?”

Your eyes flicker to the Detective badge he’s displaying at his belt.

“Yes, Detective...?”

“Ryan Burke. Your new partner for this case,” he says casually taking a sip of his coffee.

You narrow your eyes, “What case?”

“The murder of Colleen Fernandez.”

You think, ‘Well, that sucks for her.’ While asking, “When was she found?”

“At 4:43 this morning in St. Mary Catholic Cemetery.”

Which leaves only one question, “And I got assigned as your partner because?”

“Because I don’t currently have a partner and you already know the victim and the case.”

Okay, two questions, “What happened with your last partner?”

“I slept with him. It didn’t work out.”

Now, you remember, “Oh, right you’re that Irish former Ranger. That got transferred from narcotics to homicide.”

Burke grimaces, “Sounds like me. Ready to start?”

You sidestep him and head for the doors, “Ready to check-in with Sergeant Wolf.”

Inside it smells like home. If your home smells like stale coffee and whatever they clean the floor with, that is. Sergeant Wolf is sorting car keys and looks up as you approach.

“Officer Morgan. I see you’ve met your new partner. He already has the keys to your assigned car. You’ll be working from the upstairs office homicide regularly uses here. You’ll be reporting to homicide on this one. Bring each other up to speed and take care.”

She basically just stated I’ve got everything organized get going. Without telling you why, so “Sergeant Wolf? May I please ask – why I suddenly got assigned to a homicide detective?”

“Because Fernandez is dead, after she sent you that package, after you arrested her, Det. Burke needs a partner and I don’t want you out there alone at the moment. Plus, you’re overdue for a promotion.”

“Ugh. Thank you, Sergeant.” It’s really all you can say. Because overdue is not exactly right, there were any number of officers in the district that had been here longer. However, you decide to introduce Burke to Micki first – should be interesting.

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming 30th of July)

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @amacphet

[campfire-chronicles]

Jesse/Jack & You vs Monday

We all know Robby can't keep his hands off certain people. Unfortunatly for you and the Pitt's staff, so does the director of Risk Management. Which means mandatory sexual harassment training. In person. On a Monday. Really, it was not Monday's fault.

warnings: Mondays are real! And this fic is devoted to the Alexes and Marks of the office world. So, the Alexes I deal with on a regular basis live a little longer...

You vs Monday (prelude)

It’s Monday and you’re back at the office on day ten of a 90-degree heatwave. But it’s going to be a short day. Six hours and you’re done. Because you and Jack are visiting the Andy Warhol Museum – which has AC.

The first 90 minutes into this Monday are uneventful – then Alex calls.

“Hi. I need you to cover an in person, sexual harassment seminar. I have to finish the reports. I’ll work from home today.”

“Ugh, Alex, sexual harassment seminars are Legal’s business not ours.”

“Don’t worry Chris or Susann will give the seminar. You’re just there to take attendance.”

“Chris cancelled all his meetings this week two days ago because his son is sick. And Susann is on vacation.”

“Mph, you’ll be just fine. It’s only a presentation you press the button to play the video and show a couple slides.”

“That’s nowhere even close to my area of expertise. I won’t be able to answer any questions.”

“You’ve been to your seminars. You know enough and if you don’t use common sense.”

You quietly call her every name in the book. Of course, she agreed to cover for another department just to dump it on you. You sigh, “When and where?”

“At PTMC at 9 a.m.”

“Alex! It’s 8:30 that gives me half an hour to get there!”

“Well, get going. Have a nice day.”

She hangs up and you stare at the phone. Last time it took you close to 40 min to get to PTMC not to mention set up. So, you’ll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

You are 16 minutes late as you meet Ms. Mason the Director of Clinical Risk Management.

“My apologies for the delay. We had some personal issues concerning this seminar. May I ask if there is a specific reason for it?”

She nods, “Our emergency department seems to experience some overstepping of professional boundaries by one of your attendings. Overstepping, as in manhandling med students and residents. We’ve no official reports or complaints – yet. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood. Where can I find the meeting room?”

“I booked meeting room 3 on the... ground floor.” She turns to the receptionist. “Mark, has the water damage from 4 weeks ago already been dealt with?”

“No. The ground floor meeting area is still one giant construction site.”

“And why were the room bookings not revised?”

“Shit! Sorry, so sorry, Ms. Mason. I thought everybody knew! Let me check what we have available.” He types furiously on his keyboard and grimaces. “The old meeting room 6 on the third floor is open. Mainly because its AC is... broken.”

“And we have no other rooms available?”

He ducks his head, answering, “Not right now for about two hours and 30 people.”

Mason huffs, “Get me at least 4 standing fans, four boxes of water still and sparkling and two cans of coffee.” Addressing you she adds, “Well, it seems that seminar is not off to an encouraging start. I’ll inform everyone about the room and time change. Here is the list of the people that have been notified to attend. Unfortunately, some of them are coming straight off their night shift.”

You swallow, “Understood.” And follow her to a meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift.

Mason opens the meeting room door and you both get hit by a wave of hot, stale air. Each of you hurries to a different window – to find out they don’t open at all. Finally, you spot a lever, which you pull and above the big window a small portion creaks open. Next to you hear a second creak.

“I’m afraid that’s it regarding fresh air. You may want to leave the door open.” And that’s the last piece of wisdom director Mason leaves you with. You strip your jacket and fold up your sleeves. Then you connect your laptop to the beamer and pull up the presentation Alex has helpfully sent you.

A few minutes later poor Mark appears, accompanied by Jesse and Jack, dragging in four standing fans and the promised water boxes. Damn, please let them not stay for the seminar?

One fan ends up in the doorway, two in back corners of the room and one you position so it blows past you in the direction of the door. The atmosphere compares to that of an attic in the middle of summer. You just hope everyone’s deodorant is up to the challenge of spending 90 minutes in this Monday morning hell.

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

 Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date, because of Alex – one of these days...

You turn to the Pitt’s other silver fox, “And you’re Jesse, right? Got doomed this beautiful morning as well?”

He shrugs and smiles at you, “The company could be worse. But I wouldn’t mind donuts and coffee.”

Of course, the other handsome silver fox has to attend as well. Kill me now, please? And the first part of his answer got him an unimpressed look from Jack. Things you can’t change... About the things you can still change...

“Mark was supposed to bring coffee. And would’ve brought donuts. If I’d known about this... seminar before 8 this morning. Sorry.” Then you offer, “But I could track Mark down about the coffee.”

“Please, don’t!” Both men answer simultaneously.

You sigh.

As the rest of the doomed trickle in, you check their names off the list. You dutifully compare their ID-cards with the names on it. More than one shakes their heads before grabbing a water bottle and quietly making a remark to a colleague. You have ten out of twelve Doctors in the right column: Dr. Jack Abbot, Dr. Dennis Whitaker, Victoria Javadi, Dr. Melissa King, Dr. Cassie McKay, Dr. Samira Mohan, Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Trinity Santos. Missing are Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. John Shen.

Of the 16 Nurses in the left column, you check off 12: Matteo Diaz, Donnie Donahue, Dana Evans, Lena Handzo, Jesse Van Horn, Vivi Mandel, Eusebio Mendes, Emma Nolan, Jordan Prescott, Olive Rivera, Jamie Watkins, and Bridget Young.

Of those you’re missing: Perlah Alawi, Princess Dela Cruz, Tim Salinger and Kim Tate.

You look at Jack, “It seems we’re still missing six people.” Not that you’re particularly eager to fill the room with more bodies.

“Someone needs to run the ED. Can’t stack the department with only temps for two hours.” It is Dr. Robinavitch who answers to you.

“Noted. Let’s get started.” You square your shoulders and start the presentation.

Over the next 40 minutes you stumble your way through the seminar. Your audience is fanning themselves and within the first 15 minutes most have stripped their scrub tops. Which leaves Jack and Jesse both in their undershirts. And you with the challenge of concentrating on the sexual harassment presentation rather than their sweat-soaked upper bodies. How fitting.

You notice several people almost lying in their chairs with their eyes closed. But really you can’t blame them. The room has reached tropical humidity and temperatures, if you weren’t busy talking, you’d probably be asleep yourself. The only good thing is at this rate it is highly unlikely you’ll get quizzed in the last 15 minutes. You’d surely murder any colleague, who’d voice a question in a room that steam cooks its unlucky inhabitants during a mandatory seminar.

You turn off the beamer and announce, “We’ll take a 10-minute break before we... get to the... hospital-specific policies.” God, for a moment you had forgotten where you are – in front of a room full of people in scrubs...

During the break you check your mail for the hospital policies. Unsuccessfully. You call Alex – who’s not picking up. You call the assistant of the legal department and request the documents – to learn that no one has acquired them and get director Mason’s number. So, you call Mason and end up with her assistant promising you Mark will bring the print-outs up. Because, naturally everybody in attendance will have to sign, that they received a paper copy of PTMC’s policies. Well, now your unfortunate audience gets something to fan themselves with – other than their scrub tops.

The 10-minute break is over for 7 minutes as Mark finally makes an appearance with two boxes of printer paper. You swallow. Even if there are 28 copies in there that’s a lot of paper. Jesse gets up immodestly – ugh, immediately – to take one of the boxes and deposit it on the table in front of you.

“Mark, please tell me that these are not 30 policy copies.”

“No, these are 29 policy copies and the handout list.”

“Mark, no half way sane organisation has sexual harassment policies that are the size of a small book.”

“This is PTMC. We are a hospital.” He winks, “But, about two thirds of those small books is about general policy – not sexual harassment.” After that reassurance Mark leaves.

“Thank the heavens for small mercies.”

Jesse smirks. “You’ve got something against books?”

“No, I love books. Just not company policies that resemble them.”

Jack clears his throat, “So, now we all get to go over these,” he indicates the boxes, “with you?”

Thinking about it you decide, you have had enough of Monday torturing you and everyone else. So, you’ll take a few short cuts. You put on a winning smile, shake your head and put a hand on the boxes with the policies and propose, “These are apparently PTMC’s whole policies. You all get a copy; you’ll have to sign for. Given the circumstances I suggest you may want to read your copy at home.”

Your audience sighs in relief and so do you. It may not be entirely correct, but at this point going over pages and pages of policies you’ve never seen before, in front of a half-asleep audience is about as useless as it gets. You get to your final mandatory question, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young doctor in the front row lifts her hand. You force a professional smile on your face. “Yes?”

And then she opens her mouth and asks, "Dr. Robby once asked the women in the ED whether they'd prefer partial nudity and the ECG done correctly, or privacy and a potentially missed cardiac emergency. Is that considered an appropriate teaching method?"

You shake your head and try to understand what she’s talking about. You hear the female doctor with the sour expression, hiss, “Javadi!” and actually, pull on the other doctor’s long ponytail.

Your sluggish brain doesn’t currently recall what an ECG is or what cardiac means. You shoot Jack a pleading look. He’s got to bail you out, please! “I’m not sure I have the... necessary medical... background to answer that. Maybe one of your senior... staff is more... capable of answering that?”

Jack sighs, “Dr. Javadi. That was... supposed to underscore the need for correct lead placement to the EMTs. From what I heard. However, Robby could have certainly found a more appropriate way to deliver that message.” He gives the man beside him a look. “But in the heat of the moment, people don’t make the best decisions.”

“And I wanna get out of the heat in here. So, can your questions and lock it up.” The female doctor who pulled Javadi’s ponytail growls.

“Dr. Santos, we’re all frustrated. But unless you wanna read that policy document today and hand me a summary at the beginning of your next shift – I suggest you remember who you are.”

You hold your breath hoping the situation won’t escalate any further. Your smile is a little shaky as you address the room, “Does anyone have additional questions?”

You flinch at a loud bang as the lights go out and the fans stop.

Instead of an answer people start clapping for a moment and then extract themselves from their seats. One after another takes a copy and signs the handout sheet in the dim light coming through the blinds. When Jesse takes one, his smirk is back and he proposes, “You could get us donuts now. For having been such an attentive audience.”

“You certainly deserve them. I’ll see what I can do.” Honestly, after this disaster director Mason owes the ED apology donuts. Poor Mark.

You notice Jack hanging back. He’s the last to take a copy and sign. He smiles at you and says, “I’ll wait for downstairs.”

You nod, now all you have to do is check if your laptop survived and hand the lists off to Mark at the reception. It’s Monday and not even 11 a.m. –surely this day can’t get any worse?

So you people voted. I worte. I hope you enjoded it. This should count as theraphy...

You're welcome to like, reblog or comment. Even if it's not on Monday.

[campfire-chronicles]

So, you'll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

Because it's Monday!

[campfire-chronicles]

Round 2 - First Pitch - What Counts

You nod and close your ledger, storing it back in your briefcase. Winston is about to stand up to accompany you to the door of his office. You take a deep breath.

“I have one more inquiry. It’s personal and confidential.”

His eyebrows rise.

“My husband put a contract on me. Terms, ‘It has to be an accident – confidential on punishment by death’. I need John Wick to kill him before someone fulfills that contract.”

“I need proof.”

That you expected and it’s not the difficult part of this deal.

“I can prove the payment made to bookkeeping. The amount is 3 million.” You retrieve the copies from your case. Internally cursing your shaking hand.

“We both know Konstantin has no open contracts even close to that.”

Winston quietly looks the copies over. Then he leans back and studies you.

“You have a point. Is your family fronting the money for the contract?”

Now, that’s the difficult part.

“No. To them I’m the accountant. I’m replaceable. But my services and my loyalty can be very valuable to someone else.” You bite your lip to leave it at that.

He changes his seating position in the brown, leather chair.

“You have someone in mind?”

Your heart races. But you prepared your answer carefully. You got this far.

“John Wick. He’s back. He’s independent – since he left his family. As a finance expert and assistant, I can make his life considerably easier and him a good deal richer.”

“So, you’re proposing an exchange of services?” He folds his hands.

“Yes.” You lean forward. He has not said no yet. So, you continue, “The second Konstantin is dead – so is my loyalty to my entire family. I have no other loyalties. I paid all my dues. I fulfilled all my obligations. John Wick will be the only person I owe anything to.”

That statement gets him to draw in a sharp breath. Because Winston knows something your father doesn’t. There is power in controlling the money and knowledge.

“For how long?”

“What would you suggest?”

His answer – “10 years.” – makes you flinch. That’s...longer than you anticipated but it’s still preferable to being dead in a number of weeks. You nod hesitantly, “All right.”

Winston nods as well. “I’ll contact John and set up a meeting tomorrow if possible. I’d say we have a discrepancy to discuss.”

You’re almost dizzy with relief. You were not sure he’d take your offer to John Wick. Though convincing the Baba Yaga may be another feat entirely.

“Yes, that works. I’ll wait for your call.” Now, you both get up and he ushers you out of his office.

So, this has been sitting in my maybes for months now. Simply because more than two series at a time is just not doable for me.

And John Wick is anything but a simple man - his world is dark and cruel (not unlike ours) - meaning a one-shot couldn't do him justisce. But 'What Counts' might?

John Wick is used to fighting - making his series the second contender in my poll.

contenderlist

[campfire-chronicles]

No Excuse This Time

Fandom: Chicago Fire (TV) - early season 2

Featuring: Matthew Casey, fem!reader, Kelly Severide, Christopher Herrmann, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51 ensemble

Warnings: the whole station meddling, idiots in love

This time you really have no excuse. Matt didn’t even ask you to do this. But the thing is, he’s Matt now. Your Matt – in your mind at least. It’s been six months since the almost kiss on New Year’s Eve. And you’re still... friends. And because your FRIEND Matt is working on the 4th of July with his men, you decided to take charge of the catering.

On a normal day they find the time to cook and sit down to eat. Today that is unlikely. Since human beings take any excuse – and preferably holidays – to turn off half their brain. With a sigh you get out of Matt’s truck and grab the first cooler along with a box of sports drinks.

You’re about 20 feet from the bay door when Herrmann hollers, “Casey! Your girlfriend is feeding us again!”

The heat spreads all the way down the neckline of your summer dress. In Herrmann’s defence though – he, Cruz and Otis immediately get up to help unload the truck. It looks as if you interrupted them checking gear after a call. You enter the common room and nearly collide with Matt. He grabs your arms and takes a quick step back.

“Hey. So, that’s what you needed my truck for. You’re feeding us – again.”

Before you can summon a protest, he’s taken the cooler and the drink box from you and carried them over to the kitchen counter.

“Well, I figured you’d be busy on the 4th of July.”

“Yeah, we usually are. And with the heat we’ll get even more calls.”

The others bolt through the door, loaded with more supplies. Herrmann looks at you, “You mind setting up a quick lunch? We just came back and still have to put the truck back in order.”

You smile, “That’s what I’m here for.”

“So, would you go out with me?” that’s Kelly’s voice from behind you.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Until now I thought you just kept bringing food to have an excuse to see Casey. But if you’re not – I’d never turn down a pretty lady.”

“Well, tough luck, Kelly. I’m not even remotely interested,” you latch onto the second half of his statement.

Any possible answer is cut off by the next alarm.

For the next seven hours the guys come in, grab something to drink, take a quick bite and the next alarm sounds. They’re even splitting between who checks over the truck and who takes a short break. By the time the sun finally sets, they resemble a group of grouchy, sweat-soaked, exhausted gremlins.

The Gremlins have polished off the food and the drinks you brought for lunch and dinner by six. So, you make a resupply run to the store. When Chief Boden notices the bags and boxes, he comes over to where you’re prepping the next batch of meat filled pastries.

“Hand me the receipt, please.”

“Ugh, that’s really not necessary, Chief.”

He looks at you, “I say it is.”

You hand the receipt over and he hands you twice the amount. Apparently, he’s decided to fully financially cover the holiday catering. Given your mortgage, you say, “Thank you, Chief.”

Waving you off, he takes one of the muffins you brought.

You snuck onto the roof as the fireworks started and enjoyed watching them illuminate the skyline. The guys are still out on a call, probably because of fireworks. Which makes you like the colourful spectacle in front of you a little less. You sincerely hope people finally go to bed or at least stop doing dangerous nonsense.

It’s close to eleven by the time the calls have stopped somewhat. The gremlins get to shower and emerge as very tired, freshly dressed firemen. This time everyone gets to sit around the table and demolish the leftovers as a late-night dinner.

You’re mentally calculating the time it’ll take you to finish cleaning the kitchen and storing the rest. Your eyes are starting to burn and your feet hurt. In the quiet at the table Kelly speaks up, “Casey, get your woman to bed. She’s asleep just sitting there. We’ll take care of the kitchen.”

You blink, “What!?”

Matt looks at you, “Kelly is right, you’re dead on your feet. Do me a favour and lie down in my quarters. You shouldn’t drive home like this.”

You huff and go to lie down. You’re lacking the energy to argue.

Waking up, you nearly fall out of the bed as you try to turn over. Huh. Also, the blanket is only a sheet. But the pillow smells nice. Wait... the pillow smells like Matt?! Right. Alright. You went to bed in Matt’s quarters. Because you were exhausted. But where did your poor man sleep then?

You push off the blanket, get up and remake the bed. You look at your phone to check the time. The screen is black. Yeah, you didn’t charge it at all yesterday. There’s a gentle tap on the door window.

“Come in.”

Matt smiles at you, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Ready to head home? The guys packed the truck so I can drop you off at home.”

“Yes, thank you.” You follow him out into the dormitory.

Matt turns. “For what? You were the one who cooked and catered to the whole house for hours on end on a holiday.”

You shake your head. “You were working – on a holiday.”

You both have reached the bay where everybody is lingering. It’s like they’re waiting for something. Then Herrmann calls out, "For God's sake, get married already."

You stare at him, "We're not even dating."

A chorus of voices answers, “That's the problem.”

Followed by Herrmann adding, “Casey, have mercy on the poor woman and ask her out already.”

While Matt replies, “Herrmann, stay out of it.”

You hurry out the bay in the direction of Matt’s truck. Matt doesn’t unlock it immediately after he catches up. Instead, he leans over the truck bed in the early morning light and looks at you. "Would you like to?"

“Like to what?” you shoot back irritated.

“Go out with me,” Matt clarifies.

You take a breath and grip the door handle tighter, yet your answer comes out as a quiet huff, “Yes, please.”

This is the official companion to No Resolutions for New Year's Eve

Hence these idiots wouldn't leave Herrmann, Kelly, or me alone.

My contribution to the 4th of July celebrations of 2026. Happy holiday, dear readers across the pond!

[campfire-chronicles]

You've fed gremlins on the 4th of July. On the 5th, the gremlins have a plan…

[campfire-chronicles]

Round 1 - Second Pitch - Spot On File #2

I know it's not a classic moodboard - sue me.

What I've planned for this File #2 of the Spot On series are five fics. Working titles. Subject to change.

It's not Sunday Spot & Mouse get home after the breakfast at Jay's. Spot has plans for her Mouse. And then she finds a bone to latch onto.

Out in the cold Jay is on a stake out - in winter as a homeless person. Mouse is keeping watch in the van. Spot brings "Inner Heat".

On the line Jay takes a risk. He gets trapped. And Spot is his lifeline.

The two of you Jay interrogates Mouse about how he and Spot got together. IT's simple: Mouse needed details on a 911 she taken. She invited him out.

The Voice in your head Jay can't forget Spot. Her humour, her care and her competence in "On the line". He tries everything to think of someone else - anyone else. And ends up with her voice in his ear.

masterlist

contenderlist

[campfire-chronicles]

Quiet Night

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

Jack isn't done showing off Mount Washington. Or convincing you that questionable choices can be perfectly reasonable.

warnings: contains bashing of The Rookie: Feds

12:00 am

The food arrives and “Avocado Toast” was really Jack’s order. You shake your head – wondering if there’s anything in Jack’s life that’s indulgent rather than practical. And you hear yourself asking, “Jack, does everything in your life have to be practical?”

He looks up from his toast and answers, “No.”

“Name one single indulgent thing in your life!” you challenge him.

“You.”

You blink – mouth agape, stuttering, “What?”

“You are an indulgence. There’s nothing practical about this relationship.”

“I can’t decide whether that’s offensive or sweet.”

He gives you that completely unimpressed look and bites into his toast. You dig into your ‘Black and Gold Rogie Bowl’ sparing yourself further discussion. The Cheddar pierogies are amazing and the pulled pork is delicious. When you’ve demolished half, you offer Jack a trade, “Wanna switch meals and share dessert?”

“No dessert for you. Two desserts in 12 hours is a recipe for diabetes.”

 You protest instantly, “But I’m paying!”

“Because you lost the race.”

“That was rigged from the start – you tackle those stairs multiple times a week.”

 “Too late to protest now.”

“Jack, please?”

“No. You can try my toast. And I’ll take three pierogies with half the dippy egg. Consider that dessert.”

Huffing you admit defeat and Jack actually insists on only taking precisely three pierogies. After you pay the check, you both step back out into the cold night air. Now, you can actually see your breath forming small clouds.

1:00 am

On Virginia Avenue you head left, only to realise Jack has turned right.

“I thought we’re going home?” you call over.

Jack keeps walking. “You’re warm and fed. Next stop on Abbot’s special Mount Washington in the dark tour: ‘Olympia Park’.”

After catching up to him, you question, “Another deserted park?”

“It’s quiet.”

Well, that poses two questions, “Another deserted, quiet park? Do you wanna propose? Or murder me?”

Jack looks utterly bewildered, “Are we playing kiss, marry, kill now?”

You consider it and decide to take the bait, “Sure. Kiss you, murder Detective Fowler, marry Micki – that workaholic I’d never see at home anyways.”

Jack’s reply comes instantly, “Hm, marry Lena, murder Underwood and kiss... Robby. He’s my oldest friend.”

While you stare at him slightly offended – he grins and draws you in for a warm, lasting kiss. A cool gust of wind finally pulls you apart. Jack takes your hand this time and leads the way down Olympia Street. The view of the city and the Ohio River is getting slightly closer with every step.

You reach Grandview Avenue the second time this night and Jack tugs you uphill rather than heading downhill towards his home.

“What’s next?”

He just trots on. And after five minutes you see the monorail cutting through the hill.

“That has to be Duquesne Incline.”

“Yep. And on the way back you can pick the restaurant for our next date.”

“Pick a restaurant at Grandview Avenue? You pay double the price just for the view.”

He points to his left, “Le Mont, OTARU, Altius – those are the best restaurants in the city. View or not.”

“No.”

“You want me to pick? Any food allergies?”

“Hell NO. I don’t need a meal that equals the price of a bullet-proof vest.”

“Just try it. You’re not paying. Besides the view is great.”

“Jack!”

“What? For amazing food, great service and that view all three choices are good deals.”

“I hate dressing up!“

“You just need to wear something clean, nice and decent. No suit and tie required.”

“You’re insisting?”

The man smirks – wordlessly.

You throw your hands in the air, “Fine. OTARU. I always wanted to try authentic Japanese food.”

On the way downhill you soak in the view. It’s a clear night and the city’s lights are illuminating the sky. You pass the dark F.N.B. Stadium and its empty parking lots. Then Sheraton Pittsburgh Hotel at Station Square.

“Last chance to ditch me.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re just passing adequate accommodations,” you joke.

“If you’d rather sleep there than at my place – I’ll check you in,” he shrugs.

“That was a joke.”

“I thought so. But if you’d rather-“

You interrupt him, “Jack! It was a joke. Unless you’re banning me from your bedroom?”

“Why would I?”

“See. No need for a shabby hotel.”

“The Sheraton is old – but not shabby.”

You’ve reached Maple Terrace and head up yet another hill towards Jack’s Apartment building.

2 am

After leaving your jacket and shoes in the hallway, you store your weapon and holster in the nightstand of the guest bedroom. As you walk into the kitchen Jack is setting up another pot of coffee.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of tonight?”

“Watch a series?” Jack suggests.

“You mean actually watch a series or use the series as a background?” you try to clarify.

“We’ve had sex twice in the last 80 hours.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m going to make you watch at least two episodes of The Rookie: Feds if you keep goading me.”

“Hey! Torture is illegal in the US. You could’ve just said you wanted the couch to yourself.”

“Couch’s big enough for both of us. Any non-torturous series suggestions?”

“ER?”

“You mean Emergency Room – no thanks I see enough of that at work. Secrets of the Zoo: Down Under?”

“I always fall asleep to that. The Lincoln Lawyer is supposed to be decent.”

“Let’s try it.”

You leave Jack to handle the coffee and make yourself comfortable on the long side of the sectional facing the TV. The tap of crutches announces Jack. He is using one crutch while holding the two pots in the other hand. He sets the coffee mugs on the table and looks at you.

“Would you like a blanket?”

You shake your head, “I’d fall asleep. You’re staring.”

“You’re in my spot.”

“Are you Sheldon?”

“No. But why don’t you let me slip in behind you. That way we can both face the TV.”

“Sure. Because you actually wanna watch The Lincoln Lawyer. You just wanna do it while cuddling me.”

Jack huffs, “I don’t want to crane my neck – that’s all.”

You consider pushing it but scoot forward instead. Leaning his crutch on the sofa beside you Jack settles behind you. When you lean back into him his arms close around you. During the next two episodes you both cuddle, stroking each other gently, occasionally exchanging a kiss. But to your disappointment no hands slip under clothing. And after Jack’s earlier comment you don’t wanna push it. So, you start a discussion about how TV shows like that always feature the cops that either do their jobs sloppily or are too stupid to do them justice. Jack lets you rant and hums his agreement every now and then.

3 am

Jack turns the TV off after the second episode.

“Tired?” you wonder.

“I’m not going to bed for another hour. But screentime is over,” he states.

Nodding you get up, “I’ll go unpack.”

“Would you hand me my laptop from the desk?”

“I thought screentime was over?” But you head behind the room divider and grab the laptop anyways.

“I’m just putting in an order for a second set of crutches.”

You nod and hand it over, “That reminds me, I still have to order the replacement shirt and jacket.”

“You can use the laptop later.”

“Thanks.”

In the guestroom you pull flannel sheets from the dresser and make the bed. Then you store your uniform shirts, the pants and utility belt in the top drawer, where your underwear and workout clothes join it. Everyday clothing takes up one half of the second drawer, your gym bag the rest. The hanger with the uniform for tomorrow stays on the back of the door. Checking your phone, you remember that your charging cables are at home, in your car and in your locker at work. You’ll have to borrow one from Jack for now and help yourself to one from Micki tomorrow at work. Heading back into the living room Jack is still on the couch reading a journal. He looks up as you reach the couch.

“Can I borrow a charging cable for my Android from you?”

“Sure. Take the USB-C cable from the desk.”

You do that and sit down on the couch next to him putting the laptop on your lap and put your replacement order in.

“That’s that. By the way – Micki would totally mess up your laptop settings for not having a BIOS password on it.”

“It never leaves the house. Who’s Micki?”

“It could get stolen. Micki is your department techie and a close friend.”

“No one checks password settings before stealing a laptop.”

“No, but the people they sell them to often run a side hustle selling personal information they scrape off people's tech.”

“And a password is gonna stop them?”

“A decent BIOS password makes it less likely they’ll invest the time.”

“I have attentive neighbours. So, I’ll spare myself the time to enter a password every time I wanna use my PC.”

“It’s four now. Time for bed?”

“Yeah.”

4 am

Making a quick detour to the guestroom you put on sleepwear and enter Jack’s bedroom. The blackout curtains are already drawn. Jack has settled on his side of the bed closest to the door. You plug the charging cable in and slip under the covers.

“So, you’ve decided to sleep here.”

“If you push me out of bed again – I’ll sleep in the guestroom. Even if the bed is a lot smaller.”

Jack scoots to the middle of the King bed and puts his arm out.

“Come here, my raccoon.”

“Your RACCOON?” Of all the nicknames imaginable he chooses the primary carrier of rabies in the US and the animal responsible for a significant amount of 911 calls?

“You’re always up to mischief, eat heaps of calories and get yourself in trouble.”

You blink, “I’ll come back to you about your nickname tomorrow.”

“Sleep tight.”

“Good night.”

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming 18th of June)

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @amacphet

[campfire-chronicles]

Finally a quiet night with Jack…

“So, what are your plans for the rest of tonight?”

“Watch a series?” Jack suggests.

“You mean actually watch a series or use the series as a background?” you try to clarify.

“We’ve had sex twice in the last 80 hours.”

“That’s not an answer.”

[campfire-chronicles]

Writer's vacation, a murder at 11 pm, and a series outline 😅

Dear Readers,

This is officially your fault. And Kat's (@thatfanficstuff). 😇

I wrote a one-shot about a police officer asking out Jack Abbot. YOU jumped on that and liked it.

Then I was apparently forced to write a non-smutty companion piece that was basically Valentine's Day slander. YOU liked that even more. 😂

So I started a cute little series.

That series now has ten chapters and counting.

I spent my two-week vacation writing Chapters 8 through 10 so I could keep the biweekly posting schedule no matter what life throws my way. 💪📚

Yes, that means I'm buffering chapters now.

For once, Future Me is not being left completely unsupervised. 😎

Then, while working on Chapter 10, I needed a nickname for Morgan. Unfortunately for all of us, Kat's fic A Little Secret (Rabbot x Reader) was living rent-free in my head. 🦝

The rest is history.

Then I finished Chapter 10, fully intending to move on to other projects. Preferably smaller ones.

Instead, at 11 pm, I murdered Colleen Fernandez and started looking for somewhere to dump the body. 🔪

The good news is: I now have an outline for the rest of the series.

Finally. 🎉

So I can promise both you and myself that these two idiots will only drag us through about ten more chapters. Give or take. 🚔☕❤️

Complaints may be left in the comments, sent to my inbox, or directed at Kat, who reblogged some of my very first fics long before most of you had ever heard of me.

Thank you, Kat. 💙

I'm also still trying to process the fact that the SFW version of this series made it onto @finco99's May Reads Fic Rec List. 😳

Trust me, the neighbours saw me jumping.

And thank you to everyone who keeps reading along, commenting, reblogging, screaming at fictional police officers, and encouraging what was supposed to be a one-shot. 😊

masterlist

[campfire-chronicles]

One Dunkin Cup

Your first night shift as a trainee nurse at PTMC, you bring your dinner shake in a Dunkin cup. Then you get distracted, and Shen and Ellis end up arguing.

warnings: Body image-based insult

‘You can do this. You’ve got the training. You’re capable.’ You kept repeating the lines in your head. But you’re still nervous. It’s your first day at PTMC as a trainee nurse on the night shift. Neither the Charge Nurse nor the Attendings were apparently happy about getting a trainee nurse on the night shift. You didn’t get the details – something about understaffing and lack of oversight was all you heard through the grapevine.

Heading straight for the uniform dispenser, you collect your scrubs and move to the locker room. Then you deposit your dinner consisting of a banana-chocolate protein shake in the fridge in the locker room.

Changed and still about half an hour early, you approach the hub and the thin blonde nurse behind it. You wait for her to look up, wish her a good evening, state your name and get to the point, “I’m the new trainee nurse for the night shift. Is Charge Nurse Handzo already in by chance?”

“No, kid, not yet. Probably in...,” she checks her watch. “20 minutes. I’m the day shift Charge Nurse Dana. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

“Thank you, Dana.”

When Lena arrives, Dana introduces you and you get put with Senior Nurse Mateo. The reason? ‘No matter what admin thinks I don’t have the time for a trainee.’  You don’t get pulled into traumas, thankfully. As it is, halfway through your shift, your head is stuffed full with all the big and small details about this place. Supremely grateful for a break from the insanity, you grab your shake from the fridge. You take off the lid, add four ice cubes and put in a straw. After you’ve finished about half, Mateo sticks his head into the break room, “Sorry, we need you in North 15.”

You jump from the chair and follow him out. On the way you realise you’re still holding your half-full Dunkin Donut cup and put it behind the counter of the hub on your way past.

1 a.m. seems to be the time for people to go just a little crazy. You get thrown into two more cases and have almost forgotten about your half-finished dinner shake. When you get back to the hub to update Lena on your last case, you see one of the doctors with a Dunkin cup in his hand. You frown and remember your own is still behind the counter. The doc takes a sip, swallows, holds the cup away from him and shouts across the department, “Ellis! What have you done to my coffee!”

“Not a damn thing, you idiot!” Resident Ellis Parker yells back. You hurry over to the doc with your shake in his hand.

Unfortunately, he is not done accusing his colleague, “Don’t lie to me! I know you hate it!”

And Dr. Parker is still shooting back, “Whatever. It wasn’t me.”

You rush to cut the next exchange off, “I’m sorry, Doctor, I believe you grabbed my shake.”

“What?”

“I brought a banana-chocolate shake for dinner. In a Dunkin cup.”

He looks at the cup. “Why?”

“Sorry?”

“Why bring a shake in a Dunkin cup?”

“So, I don’t forget yet another shaker somewhere.”

“Ugh,” he groans. “I’m sorry. It looked exactly like my iced coffee.” And with that he hands you your shake.

“I’ll put my name on it next time, doctor.”

“You’re new here, right?” Shaking his head, he adds, “A name won’t help unless you write it on a big, fat, white piece of tape.”

“Well, big and fat shouldn’t be a problem for her,” a male patient about twice your age throws in.

“Thank you, Sir. For recognizing I have no intention to resemble a coat rack anytime soon.”

The man blinks, “Well, what’s your excuse for being fat then?”

“Choosing a stressful profession that sometimes includes abusive assholes and not resorting to smoking,” Charge Nurse Lena replies. She must have noticed the pack of cigarettes in his hand too.

“Smoking would keep you both a normal size at least.”

Lena shakes her head at him, “Not smoking gets us healthy, cancer-free lungs.”

The man swallows and the doc turns toward Lena. “I think he got your point.” Adding quietly, “And I just handed him a lung cancer diagnosis.”

You and Lena both fake a cough and you take a long sip from your shake. “Well, I think I can live with that.”

He looks at you, “And I think, you’ll fit right in here. I’m John Shen, by the way.”

Lena hands him a Dunkin cup, “And I believe that’s your coffee, Shen.”

His eyes light up as he takes it, “Thank you, Lena.”

[campfire-chronicles]

Turns out the thing making composed Dr. Shen lose his cool isn't a trauma… it's an unlabeled Dunkin cup.

[campfire-chronicles]

9.5 Details

While you explore Mount Washington with Jack, others are busy investigating the package you received.

There’s a polite knock on Dr. Sidle’s office door.

“Come in.”

Micki enters the bright space, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey Dr. Sidle, you’ve gotten anything of the package send to Morgan?”

“I found one dead end and two clues in the evidence provided by Officer Morgan. Have you found something out regarding delivery, Mr. Adler?”

“Yeah, I identified the USPS shop and got their footage. Colleen Fernandez dropped it off this morning.”

“Who is she?”

“The woman Morgan took to PTMC after the raid.”

“The one that got Officer Morgan with a knife?”

Micki nods.

“Well, that would explain the wrapping paper from Cheeks.”

“Cheeks?”

“A boutique chain for expensive Lingerie. The paper was watermarked.”

Mick nods again.

“You said two clues.”

“The other is more concerning. I found residue of cocaine inside the package. Masspec analysis says it’s nearly pure and mixed from multiple regions in Columbia.”

“Not really a surprise given our prime suspect is considered cartel.”

Dr. Sidle just nods and replies, “My report for Sergeant Wolf will be ready in an hour.” Then she turns back to her computer.

Micki shrugs, “I’ll just tell her about the camera footage on my way back.” And leaves.

masterlist

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

Comments and asks are welcome.

[campfire-chronicles]

Mick will have something to tell you, when you come back from your Quiet Night.

[campfire-chronicles]

Jesse/Jack & You vs Monday

We all know Robby can't keep his hands off certain people. Unfortunatly for you and the Pitt's staff, so does the director of Risk Management. Which means mandatory sexual harassment training. In person. On a Monday. Really, it was not Monday's fault.

warnings: Mondays are real! And this fic is devoted to the Alexes and Marks of the office world. So, the Alexes I deal with on a regular basis live a little longer...

You vs Monday (prelude)

It’s Monday and you’re back at the office on day ten of a 90-degree heatwave. But it’s going to be a short day. Six hours and you’re done. Because you and Jack are visiting the Andy Warhol Museum – which has AC.

The first 90 minutes into this Monday are uneventful – then Alex calls.

“Hi. I need you to cover an in person, sexual harassment seminar. I have to finish the reports. I’ll work from home today.”

“Ugh, Alex, sexual harassment seminars are Legal’s business not ours.”

“Don’t worry Chris or Susann will give the seminar. You’re just there to take attendance.”

“Chris cancelled all his meetings this week two days ago because his son is sick. And Susann is on vacation.”

“Mph, you’ll be just fine. It’s only a presentation you press the button to play the video and show a couple slides.”

“That’s nowhere even close to my area of expertise. I won’t be able to answer any questions.”

“You’ve been to your seminars. You know enough and if you don’t use common sense.”

You quietly call her every name in the book. Of course, she agreed to cover for another department just to dump it on you. You sigh, “When and where?”

“At PTMC at 9 a.m.”

“Alex! It’s 8:30 that gives me half an hour to get there!”

“Well, get going. Have a nice day.”

She hangs up and you stare at the phone. Last time it took you close to 40 min to get to PTMC not to mention set up. So, you’ll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

You are 16 minutes late as you meet Ms. Mason the Director of Clinical Risk Management.

“My apologies for the delay. We had some personal issues concerning this seminar. May I ask if there is a specific reason for it?”

She nods, “Our emergency department seems to experience some overstepping of professional boundaries by one of your attendings. Overstepping, as in manhandling med students and residents. We’ve no official reports or complaints – yet. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood. Where can I find the meeting room?”

“I booked meeting room 3 on the... ground floor.” She turns to the receptionist. “Mark, has the water damage from 4 weeks ago already been dealt with?”

“No. The ground floor meeting area is still one giant construction site.”

“And why were the room bookings not revised?”

“Shit! Sorry, so sorry, Ms. Mason. I thought everybody knew! Let me check what we have available.” He types furiously on his keyboard and grimaces. “The old meeting room 6 on the third floor is open. Mainly because its AC is... broken.”

“And we have no other rooms available?”

He ducks his head, answering, “Not right now for about two hours and 30 people.”

Mason huffs, “Get me at least 4 standing fans, four boxes of water still and sparkling and two cans of coffee.” Addressing you she adds, “Well, it seems that seminar is not off to an encouraging start. I’ll inform everyone about the room and time change. Here is the list of the people that have been notified to attend. Unfortunately, some of them are coming straight off their night shift.”

You swallow, “Understood.” And follow her to a meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift.

Mason opens the meeting room door and you both get hit by a wave of hot, stale air. Each of you hurries to a different window – to find out they don’t open at all. Finally, you spot a lever, which you pull and above the big window a small portion creaks open. Next to you hear a second creak.

“I’m afraid that’s it regarding fresh air. You may want to leave the door open.” And that’s the last piece of wisdom director Mason leaves you with. You strip your jacket and fold up your sleeves. Then you connect your laptop to the beamer and pull up the presentation Alex has helpfully sent you.

A few minutes later poor Mark appears, accompanied by Jesse and Jack, dragging in four standing fans and the promised water boxes. Damn, please let them not stay for the seminar?

One fan ends up in the doorway, two in back corners of the room and one you position so it blows past you in the direction of the door. The atmosphere compares to that of an attic in the middle of summer. You just hope everyone’s deodorant is up to the challenge of spending 90 minutes in this Monday morning hell.

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

 Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date, because of Alex – one of these days...

You turn to the Pitt’s other silver fox, “And you’re Jesse, right? Got doomed this beautiful morning as well?”

He shrugs and smiles at you, “The company could be worse. But I wouldn’t mind donuts and coffee.”

Of course, the other handsome silver fox has to attend as well. Kill me now, please? And the first part of his answer got him an unimpressed look from Jack. Things you can’t change... About the things you can still change...

“Mark was supposed to bring coffee. And would’ve brought donuts. If I’d known about this... seminar before 8 this morning. Sorry.” Then you offer, “But I could track Mark down about the coffee.”

“Please, don’t!” Both men answer simultaneously.

You sigh.

As the rest of the doomed trickle in, you check their names off the list. You dutifully compare their ID-cards with the names on it. More than one shakes their heads before grabbing a water bottle and quietly making a remark to a colleague. You have ten out of twelve Doctors in the right column: Dr. Jack Abbot, Dr. Dennis Whitaker, Victoria Javadi, Dr. Melissa King, Dr. Cassie McKay, Dr. Samira Mohan, Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Trinity Santos. Missing are Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. John Shen.

Of the 16 Nurses in the left column, you check off 12: Matteo Diaz, Donnie Donahue, Dana Evans, Lena Handzo, Jesse Van Horn, Vivi Mandel, Eusebio Mendes, Emma Nolan, Jordan Prescott, Olive Rivera, Jamie Watkins, and Bridget Young.

Of those you’re missing: Perlah Alawi, Princess Dela Cruz, Tim Salinger and Kim Tate.

You look at Jack, “It seems we’re still missing six people.” Not that you’re particularly eager to fill the room with more bodies.

“Someone needs to run the ED. Can’t stack the department with only temps for two hours.” It is Dr. Robinavitch who answers to you.

“Noted. Let’s get started.” You square your shoulders and start the presentation.

Over the next 40 minutes you stumble your way through the seminar. Your audience is fanning themselves and within the first 15 minutes most have stripped their scrub tops. Which leaves Jack and Jesse both in their undershirts. And you with the challenge of concentrating on the sexual harassment presentation rather than their sweat-soaked upper bodies. How fitting.

You notice several people almost lying in their chairs with their eyes closed. But really you can’t blame them. The room has reached tropical humidity and temperatures, if you weren’t busy talking, you’d probably be asleep yourself. The only good thing is at this rate it is highly unlikely you’ll get quizzed in the last 15 minutes. You’d surely murder any colleague, who’d voice a question in a room that steam cooks its unlucky inhabitants during a mandatory seminar.

You turn off the beamer and announce, “We’ll take a 10-minute break before we... get to the... hospital-specific policies.” God, for a moment you had forgotten where you are – in front of a room full of people in scrubs...

During the break you check your mail for the hospital policies. Unsuccessfully. You call Alex – who’s not picking up. You call the assistant of the legal department and request the documents – to learn that no one has acquired them and get director Mason’s number. So, you call Mason and end up with her assistant promising you Mark will bring the print-outs up. Because, naturally everybody in attendance will have to sign, that they received a paper copy of PTMC’s policies. Well, now your unfortunate audience gets something to fan themselves with – other than their scrub tops.

The 10-minute break is over for 7 minutes as Mark finally makes an appearance with two boxes of printer paper. You swallow. Even if there are 28 copies in there that’s a lot of paper. Jesse gets up immodestly – ugh, immediately – to take one of the boxes and deposit it on the table in front of you.

“Mark, please tell me that these are not 30 policy copies.”

“No, these are 29 policy copies and the handout list.”

“Mark, no half way sane organisation has sexual harassment policies that are the size of a small book.”

“This is PTMC. We are a hospital.” He winks, “But, about two thirds of those small books is about general policy – not sexual harassment.” After that reassurance Mark leaves.

“Thank the heavens for small mercies.”

Jesse smirks. “You’ve got something against books?”

“No, I love books. Just not company policies that resemble them.”

Jack clears his throat, “So, now we all get to go over these,” he indicates the boxes, “with you?”

Thinking about it you decide, you have had enough of Monday torturing you and everyone else. So, you’ll take a few short cuts. You put on a winning smile, shake your head and put a hand on the boxes with the policies and propose, “These are apparently PTMC’s whole policies. You all get a copy; you’ll have to sign for. Given the circumstances I suggest you may want to read your copy at home.”

Your audience sighs in relief and so do you. It may not be entirely correct, but at this point going over pages and pages of policies you’ve never seen before, in front of a half-asleep audience is about as useless as it gets. You get to your final mandatory question, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young doctor in the front row lifts her hand. You force a professional smile on your face. “Yes?”

And then she opens her mouth and asks, "Dr. Robby once asked the women in the ED whether they'd prefer partial nudity and the ECG done correctly, or privacy and a potentially missed cardiac emergency. Is that considered an appropriate teaching method?"

You shake your head and try to understand what she’s talking about. You hear the female doctor with the sour expression, hiss, “Javadi!” and actually, pull on the other doctor’s long ponytail.

Your sluggish brain doesn’t currently recall what an ECG is or what cardiac means. You shoot Jack a pleading look. He’s got to bail you out, please! “I’m not sure I have the... necessary medical... background to answer that. Maybe one of your senior... staff is more... capable of answering that?”

Jack sighs, “Dr. Javadi. That was... supposed to underscore the need for correct lead placement to the EMTs. From what I heard. However, Robby could have certainly found a more appropriate way to deliver that message.” He gives the man beside him a look. “But in the heat of the moment, people don’t make the best decisions.”

“And I wanna get out of the heat in here. So, can your questions and lock it up.” The female doctor who pulled Javadi’s ponytail growls.

“Dr. Santos, we’re all frustrated. But unless you wanna read that policy document today and hand me a summary at the beginning of your next shift – I suggest you remember who you are.”

You hold your breath hoping the situation won’t escalate any further. Your smile is a little shaky as you address the room, “Does anyone have additional questions?”

You flinch at a loud bang as the lights go out and the fans stop.

Instead of an answer people start clapping for a moment and then extract themselves from their seats. One after another takes a copy and signs the handout sheet in the dim light coming through the blinds. When Jesse takes one, his smirk is back and he proposes, “You could get us donuts now. For having been such an attentive audience.”

“You certainly deserve them. I’ll see what I can do.” Honestly, after this disaster director Mason owes the ED apology donuts. Poor Mark.

You notice Jack hanging back. He’s the last to take a copy and sign. He smiles at you and says, “I’ll wait for downstairs.”

You nod, now all you have to do is check if your laptop survived and hand the lists off to Mark at the reception. It’s Monday and not even 11 a.m. –surely this day can’t get any worse?

So you people voted. I worte. I hope you enjoded it. This should count as theraphy...

You're welcome to like, reblog or comment. Even if it's not on Monday.

[campfire-chronicles]

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date.

[campfire-chronicles]

Jesse/Jack & You vs Monday

We all know Robby can't keep his hands off certain people. Unfortunatly for you and the Pitt's staff, so does the director of Risk Management. Which means mandatory sexual harassment training. In person. On a Monday. Really, it was not Monday's fault.

warnings: Mondays are real! And this fic is devoted to the Alexes and Marks of the office world. So, the Alexes I deal with on a regular basis live a little longer...

You vs Monday (prelude)

It’s Monday and you’re back at the office on day ten of a 90-degree heatwave. But it’s going to be a short day. Six hours and you’re done. Because you and Jack are visiting the Andy Warhol Museum – which has AC.

The first 90 minutes into this Monday are uneventful – then Alex calls.

“Hi. I need you to cover an in person, sexual harassment seminar. I have to finish the reports. I’ll work from home today.”

“Ugh, Alex, sexual harassment seminars are Legal’s business not ours.”

“Don’t worry Chris or Susann will give the seminar. You’re just there to take attendance.”

“Chris cancelled all his meetings this week two days ago because his son is sick. And Susann is on vacation.”

“Mph, you’ll be just fine. It’s only a presentation you press the button to play the video and show a couple slides.”

“That’s nowhere even close to my area of expertise. I won’t be able to answer any questions.”

“You’ve been to your seminars. You know enough and if you don’t use common sense.”

You quietly call her every name in the book. Of course, she agreed to cover for another department just to dump it on you. You sigh, “When and where?”

“At PTMC at 9 a.m.”

“Alex! It’s 8:30 that gives me half an hour to get there!”

“Well, get going. Have a nice day.”

She hangs up and you stare at the phone. Last time it took you close to 40 min to get to PTMC not to mention set up. So, you’ll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

You are 16 minutes late as you meet Ms. Mason the Director of Clinical Risk Management.

“My apologies for the delay. We had some personal issues concerning this seminar. May I ask if there is a specific reason for it?”

She nods, “Our emergency department seems to experience some overstepping of professional boundaries by one of your attendings. Overstepping, as in manhandling med students and residents. We’ve no official reports or complaints – yet. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood. Where can I find the meeting room?”

“I booked meeting room 3 on the... ground floor.” She turns to the receptionist. “Mark, has the water damage from 4 weeks ago already been dealt with?”

“No. The ground floor meeting area is still one giant construction site.”

“And why were the room bookings not revised?”

“Shit! Sorry, so sorry, Ms. Mason. I thought everybody knew! Let me check what we have available.” He types furiously on his keyboard and grimaces. “The old meeting room 6 on the third floor is open. Mainly because its AC is... broken.”

“And we have no other rooms available?”

He ducks his head, answering, “Not right now for about two hours and 30 people.”

Mason huffs, “Get me at least 4 standing fans, four boxes of water still and sparkling and two cans of coffee.” Addressing you she adds, “Well, it seems that seminar is not off to an encouraging start. I’ll inform everyone about the room and time change. Here is the list of the people that have been notified to attend. Unfortunately, some of them are coming straight off their night shift.”

You swallow, “Understood.” And follow her to a meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift.

Mason opens the meeting room door and you both get hit by a wave of hot, stale air. Each of you hurries to a different window – to find out they don’t open at all. Finally, you spot a lever, which you pull and above the big window a small portion creaks open. Next to you hear a second creak.

“I’m afraid that’s it regarding fresh air. You may want to leave the door open.” And that’s the last piece of wisdom director Mason leaves you with. You strip your jacket and fold up your sleeves. Then you connect your laptop to the beamer and pull up the presentation Alex has helpfully sent you.

A few minutes later poor Mark appears, accompanied by Jesse and Jack, dragging in four standing fans and the promised water boxes. Damn, please let them not stay for the seminar?

One fan ends up in the doorway, two in back corners of the room and one you position so it blows past you in the direction of the door. The atmosphere compares to that of an attic in the middle of summer. You just hope everyone’s deodorant is up to the challenge of spending 90 minutes in this Monday morning hell.

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

 Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date, because of Alex – one of these days...

You turn to the Pitt’s other silver fox, “And you’re Jesse, right? Got doomed this beautiful morning as well?”

He shrugs and smiles at you, “The company could be worse. But I wouldn’t mind donuts and coffee.”

Of course, the other handsome silver fox has to attend as well. Kill me now, please? And the first part of his answer got him an unimpressed look from Jack. Things you can’t change... About the things you can still change...

“Mark was supposed to bring coffee. And would’ve brought donuts. If I’d known about this... seminar before 8 this morning. Sorry.” Then you offer, “But I could track Mark down about the coffee.”

“Please, don’t!” Both men answer simultaneously.

You sigh.

As the rest of the doomed trickle in, you check their names off the list. You dutifully compare their ID-cards with the names on it. More than one shakes their heads before grabbing a water bottle and quietly making a remark to a colleague. You have ten out of twelve Doctors in the right column: Dr. Jack Abbot, Dr. Dennis Whitaker, Victoria Javadi, Dr. Melissa King, Dr. Cassie McKay, Dr. Samira Mohan, Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Trinity Santos. Missing are Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. John Shen.

Of the 16 Nurses in the left column, you check off 12: Matteo Diaz, Donnie Donahue, Dana Evans, Lena Handzo, Jesse Van Horn, Vivi Mandel, Eusebio Mendes, Emma Nolan, Jordan Prescott, Olive Rivera, Jamie Watkins, and Bridget Young.

Of those you’re missing: Perlah Alawi, Princess Dela Cruz, Tim Salinger and Kim Tate.

You look at Jack, “It seems we’re still missing six people.” Not that you’re particularly eager to fill the room with more bodies.

“Someone needs to run the ED. Can’t stack the department with only temps for two hours.” It is Dr. Robinavitch who answers to you.

“Noted. Let’s get started.” You square your shoulders and start the presentation.

Over the next 40 minutes you stumble your way through the seminar. Your audience is fanning themselves and within the first 15 minutes most have stripped their scrub tops. Which leaves Jack and Jesse both in their undershirts. And you with the challenge of concentrating on the sexual harassment presentation rather than their sweat-soaked upper bodies. How fitting.

You notice several people almost lying in their chairs with their eyes closed. But really you can’t blame them. The room has reached tropical humidity and temperatures, if you weren’t busy talking, you’d probably be asleep yourself. The only good thing is at this rate it is highly unlikely you’ll get quizzed in the last 15 minutes. You’d surely murder any colleague, who’d voice a question in a room that steam cooks its unlucky inhabitants during a mandatory seminar.

You turn off the beamer and announce, “We’ll take a 10-minute break before we... get to the... hospital-specific policies.” God, for a moment you had forgotten where you are – in front of a room full of people in scrubs...

During the break you check your mail for the hospital policies. Unsuccessfully. You call Alex – who’s not picking up. You call the assistant of the legal department and request the documents – to learn that no one has acquired them and get director Mason’s number. So, you call Mason and end up with her assistant promising you Mark will bring the print-outs up. Because, naturally everybody in attendance will have to sign, that they received a paper copy of PTMC’s policies. Well, now your unfortunate audience gets something to fan themselves with – other than their scrub tops.

The 10-minute break is over for 7 minutes as Mark finally makes an appearance with two boxes of printer paper. You swallow. Even if there are 28 copies in there that’s a lot of paper. Jesse gets up immodestly – ugh, immediately – to take one of the boxes and deposit it on the table in front of you.

“Mark, please tell me that these are not 30 policy copies.”

“No, these are 29 policy copies and the handout list.”

“Mark, no half way sane organisation has sexual harassment policies that are the size of a small book.”

“This is PTMC. We are a hospital.” He winks, “But, about two thirds of those small books is about general policy – not sexual harassment.” After that reassurance Mark leaves.

“Thank the heavens for small mercies.”

Jesse smirks. “You’ve got something against books?”

“No, I love books. Just not company policies that resemble them.”

Jack clears his throat, “So, now we all get to go over these,” he indicates the boxes, “with you?”

Thinking about it you decide, you have had enough of Monday torturing you and everyone else. So, you’ll take a few short cuts. You put on a winning smile, shake your head and put a hand on the boxes with the policies and propose, “These are apparently PTMC’s whole policies. You all get a copy; you’ll have to sign for. Given the circumstances I suggest you may want to read your copy at home.”

Your audience sighs in relief and so do you. It may not be entirely correct, but at this point going over pages and pages of policies you’ve never seen before, in front of a half-asleep audience is about as useless as it gets. You get to your final mandatory question, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young doctor in the front row lifts her hand. You force a professional smile on your face. “Yes?”

And then she opens her mouth and asks, "Dr. Robby once asked the women in the ED whether they'd prefer partial nudity and the ECG done correctly, or privacy and a potentially missed cardiac emergency. Is that considered an appropriate teaching method?"

You shake your head and try to understand what she’s talking about. You hear the female doctor with the sour expression, hiss, “Javadi!” and actually, pull on the other doctor’s long ponytail.

Your sluggish brain doesn’t currently recall what an ECG is or what cardiac means. You shoot Jack a pleading look. He’s got to bail you out, please! “I’m not sure I have the... necessary medical... background to answer that. Maybe one of your senior... staff is more... capable of answering that?”

Jack sighs, “Dr. Javadi. That was... supposed to underscore the need for correct lead placement to the EMTs. From what I heard. However, Robby could have certainly found a more appropriate way to deliver that message.” He gives the man beside him a look. “But in the heat of the moment, people don’t make the best decisions.”

“And I wanna get out of the heat in here. So, can your questions and lock it up.” The female doctor who pulled Javadi’s ponytail growls.

“Dr. Santos, we’re all frustrated. But unless you wanna read that policy document today and hand me a summary at the beginning of your next shift – I suggest you remember who you are.”

You hold your breath hoping the situation won’t escalate any further. Your smile is a little shaky as you address the room, “Does anyone have additional questions?”

You flinch at a loud bang as the lights go out and the fans stop.

Instead of an answer people start clapping for a moment and then extract themselves from their seats. One after another takes a copy and signs the handout sheet in the dim light coming through the blinds. When Jesse takes one, his smirk is back and he proposes, “You could get us donuts now. For having been such an attentive audience.”

“You certainly deserve them. I’ll see what I can do.” Honestly, after this disaster director Mason owes the ED apology donuts. Poor Mark.

You notice Jack hanging back. He’s the last to take a copy and sign. He smiles at you and says, “I’ll wait for downstairs.”

You nod, now all you have to do is check if your laptop survived and hand the lists off to Mark at the reception. It’s Monday and not even 11 a.m. –surely this day can’t get any worse?

So you people voted. I worte. I hope you enjoded it. This should count as theraphy...

You're welcome to like, reblog or comment. Even if it's not on Monday.

[campfire-chronicles]

Round 1 - First Pitch - Spot On File #2

You’re shedding your shoes and jacket by the door of your shared home, the warm air welcoming you. You ask your Mouse, “Greg?”

“Hm?” He’s already moving toward the kitchen.

“Was the shirtless thing okay?”

He stops. “Yes.” No hesitation. But you know him. “You thought it was a joke at first.” “And when I realised it wasn’t,” he says, turning, “I made Jay strip too.”

“He looked a little uncomfortable by the end. More than when he discovered my tea.”

Mouse laughs, “He was shocked by your tea. And parading bare-chested in front of his best friend’s partner would make most good men uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t mind...” you bite your lip and Mouse answers anyway.

“No, Spot. I didn’t mind that you admired the view. So did I. Good timing about calling it though.”

Letting out a low whistle you put a hand on Mouse’s chest and push him against the wall. He lets you. “I knew it! You two were more than friends somewhere along the way.” You lean into his space.

“It was during service. Years ago.” And on that note Mouse prevents further questions by taking possession of your lips.

masterlist

I'm starting the introduction of fighters for my writingtime - with a personal favorite. What else?

These two just live rentfree in my head. During the warmanjuary project I gave them each one smut fic. Then I tried dot get them into bed together. We all know how that turned out "Game Night". And since I had promised SFW mirror fics I made a small series out of it. The series was out - these two were still in my head. So, I wrote a little chat fic "Who get's Breakfast" and YOU convinced me it would be fun to see how that breakfast turned out - hence "The Breakfast Deal". That got so much love that my brain decided to invest in continuing the story of these three. This is where we could be going in Spot On File #2.

contenderlist

[campfire-chronicles]

🎉 Voting Time 🎉

My very first real series, ‘Of Serpents, Magic & Wings’, is officially complete at 11 entries! 🐍✨🪽

Bowing deeply to everyone who followed that journey. ❤️ ‘This is the End’.

Now, that opens up a spot for a new series beside ‘Between Always & Never’. 📚

And you can get a word in without having to say a word.

I’ll let you vote.

Well, first I’ll introduce the fighters candidates, starting July 5th. ⚔️

Each series concept gets two pitches.

📌 First pitch – Sunday evening: Series header + excerpt

📌 Second pitch – Friday evening: Moodboard + a general description of the series themes

🔥 Week One – Chicago PD – Spot On Jay Halstead/Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz/fem!reader M/F/M triangle

⚔️July 5th First Pitch 🎨July 10th Second Pitch

🩸 Week Two – John Wick – What Counts John Wick/fem!reader M/F slow burn

⚔️July 12th First Pitch 🎨July 17th Second Pitch

🏥 Week Three – Emergency Room – Matches Dr. John Carter/fem!reader M/F enemies to lovers

⚔️July 19th First Pitch 🎨July 24th Second Pitch

🚒 Week Four – 911 – Adults are Stupid! Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley & Eddie Diaz 3rd person POV Family tension

⚔️July 27th First Pitch 🎨July 31st Second Pitch

🎲 Week Five – Community Wild Card Throw me ideas, or I might throw one more candidate at you.

⚔️August 3rd First Pitch 🎨August 7th Second Pitch

Since the currently running series is a The Pitt series, that fandom isn't on the list. I already have a concept for the next The Pitt series though – I won't turn down ideas. 😉

I haven't yet decided whether I'll be delighted or offended if some of you demand that I simply switch ‘Between Always & Never’ to weekly postings. 😆

Ideas can be thrown into the comments, in reblogs, or into my inbox until the 24th of July. 📬

And if you say nothing, you'll still get to vote after all candidates have had their turn. Starting 7th of August🗳️

[campfire-chronicles]

No Excuse This Time

Fandom: Chicago Fire (TV) - early season 2

Featuring: Matthew Casey, fem!reader, Kelly Severide, Christopher Herrmann, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51 ensemble

Warnings: the whole station meddling, idiots in love

This time you really have no excuse. Matt didn’t even ask you to do this. But the thing is, he’s Matt now. Your Matt – in your mind at least. It’s been six months since the almost kiss on New Year’s Eve. And you’re still... friends. And because your FRIEND Matt is working on the 4th of July with his men, you decided to take charge of the catering.

On a normal day they find the time to cook and sit down to eat. Today that is unlikely. Since human beings take any excuse – and preferably holidays – to turn off half their brain. With a sigh you get out of Matt’s truck and grab the first cooler along with a box of sports drinks.

You’re about 20 feet from the bay door when Herrmann hollers, “Casey! Your girlfriend is feeding us again!”

The heat spreads all the way down the neckline of your summer dress. In Herrmann’s defence though – he, Cruz and Otis immediately get up to help unload the truck. It looks as if you interrupted them checking gear after a call. You enter the common room and nearly collide with Matt. He grabs your arms and takes a quick step back.

“Hey. So, that’s what you needed my truck for. You’re feeding us – again.”

Before you can summon a protest, he’s taken the cooler and the drink box from you and carried them over to the kitchen counter.

“Well, I figured you’d be busy on the 4th of July.”

“Yeah, we usually are. And with the heat we’ll get even more calls.”

The others bolt through the door, loaded with more supplies. Herrmann looks at you, “You mind setting up a quick lunch? We just came back and still have to put the truck back in order.”

You smile, “That’s what I’m here for.”

“So, would you go out with me?” that’s Kelly’s voice from behind you.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Until now I thought you just kept bringing food to have an excuse to see Casey. But if you’re not – I’d never turn down a pretty lady.”

“Well, tough luck, Kelly. I’m not even remotely interested,” you latch onto the second half of his statement.

Any possible answer is cut off by the next alarm.

For the next seven hours the guys come in, grab something to drink, take a quick bite and the next alarm sounds. They’re even splitting between who checks over the truck and who takes a short break. By the time the sun finally sets, they resemble a group of grouchy, sweat-soaked, exhausted gremlins.

The Gremlins have polished off the food and the drinks you brought for lunch and dinner by six. So, you make a resupply run to the store. When Chief Boden notices the bags and boxes, he comes over to where you’re prepping the next batch of meat filled pastries.

“Hand me the receipt, please.”

“Ugh, that’s really not necessary, Chief.”

He looks at you, “I say it is.”

You hand the receipt over and he hands you twice the amount. Apparently, he’s decided to fully financially cover the holiday catering. Given your mortgage, you say, “Thank you, Chief.”

Waving you off, he takes one of the muffins you brought.

You snuck onto the roof as the fireworks started and enjoyed watching them illuminate the skyline. The guys are still out on a call, probably because of fireworks. Which makes you like the colourful spectacle in front of you a little less. You sincerely hope people finally go to bed or at least stop doing dangerous nonsense.

It’s close to eleven by the time the calls have stopped somewhat. The gremlins get to shower and emerge as very tired, freshly dressed firemen. This time everyone gets to sit around the table and demolish the leftovers as a late-night dinner.

You’re mentally calculating the time it’ll take you to finish cleaning the kitchen and storing the rest. Your eyes are starting to burn and your feet hurt. In the quiet at the table Kelly speaks up, “Casey, get your woman to bed. She’s asleep just sitting there. We’ll take care of the kitchen.”

You blink, “What!?”

Matt looks at you, “Kelly is right, you’re dead on your feet. Do me a favour and lie down in my quarters. You shouldn’t drive home like this.”

You huff and go to lie down. You’re lacking the energy to argue.

Waking up, you nearly fall out of the bed as you try to turn over. Huh. Also, the blanket is only a sheet. But the pillow smells nice. Wait... the pillow smells like Matt?! Right. Alright. You went to bed in Matt’s quarters. Because you were exhausted. But where did your poor man sleep then?

You push off the blanket, get up and remake the bed. You look at your phone to check the time. The screen is black. Yeah, you didn’t charge it at all yesterday. There’s a gentle tap on the door window.

“Come in.”

Matt smiles at you, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Ready to head home? The guys packed the truck so I can drop you off at home.”

“Yes, thank you.” You follow him out into the dormitory.

Matt turns. “For what? You were the one who cooked and catered to the whole house for hours on end on a holiday.”

You shake your head. “You were working – on a holiday.”

You both have reached the bay where everybody is lingering. It’s like they’re waiting for something. Then Herrmann calls out, "For God's sake, get married already."

You stare at him, "We're not even dating."

A chorus of voices answers, “That's the problem.”

Followed by Herrmann adding, “Casey, have mercy on the poor woman and ask her out already.”

While Matt replies, “Herrmann, stay out of it.”

You hurry out the bay in the direction of Matt’s truck. Matt doesn’t unlock it immediately after he catches up. Instead, he leans over the truck bed in the early morning light and looks at you. "Would you like to?"

“Like to what?” you shoot back irritated.

“Go out with me,” Matt clarifies.

You take a breath and grip the door handle tighter, yet your answer comes out as a quiet huff, “Yes, please.”

This is the official companion to No Resolutions for New Year's Eve

Hence these idiots wouldn't leave Herrmann, Kelly, or me alone.

My contribution to the 4th of July celebrations of 2026. Happy holiday, dear readers across the pond!

[campfire-chronicles]

A little throwback for the holiday.

Fireworks, Firehouse 51, one very shy reader and one Matt Casey who really should've said something sooner.