#another round fanfiction

[justaz]

need post magic reveal/ban repeal where magic is free and everyone grows in their knowledge of just what magic is and how it works etc, etc. merlin (isn't one for bragging about his powers) doesn't really mention much about his magic so people just assume he has enough to get by with like chores but not enough to catch the ire of uther EXCEPT for gauis, lancelot, and arthur bc gaius and lancelot have known about him for years and know what he's capable of and arthur sat merlin down and demanded all the stories so arthur knows he'd be a formidable opponent but he doesn't really get it yk? so he's like "yeah merlin has magic and he's capable of defending himself and camelot so he's probably on the more powerful end of the spectrum like every other sorcerer who is powerful"

and then i need merlin to be Different. like noticeably different. like idk a sorcerer is like trying out to be court sorcerer (bc merlin doesn't want another job dammit arthur give it morgana or someone-) and they perform this elaborate spell that captivates merlin and he starts asking all these questions and the sorcerer is like "yeah it's super difficult, it took me months to get it right and it takes years for some others-" and they cut themselves off bc merlin was just like "i wanna try" and does it perfectly first try. the sorcerer is seething.

camelot is hit with a heatwave and everyone is suffering and arthur is just like "morgana can you make it rain or something? it's too hot to breathe." and morgana is just like "no you idiot i can't just bend nature to my will. it doesn't like that." and merlin finally arrives with waterskins full of nice, cold, refreshing drink that the knights are frothing at the mouth to get. arthur complains again and morgana huffs and merlin is like "has he been like that this whole time?" and morgana nods with a groan and merlin laughs before going "i can try something" and leaves before anyone can say anything and arthur looks at morgana and is like "i thought you said nature doesn't like to be controlled?" and she's like "it doesn't" and then they all chase after merlin but he's chilling in the courtyard with his eyes closed, not even chanting, and then the sky starts to darken as black clouds roll in, the temperature plummets and then...snow begins to fall. in july. they all end up having a snowball fight.

a power hungry sorcerer comes along and is like "emrys....he's perfect....just what i need...teehee" and casts some spell over merlin and begins to siphon his magic and his power and merlin feels waves of his magic flood through the connection and into the sorcerer and like he's a mix of panic and concern bc yeah this mf is taking his magic but they're taking his magic. merlin tries to bargain or talk them down while the knights and arthur try to attack but the sorcerer keeps pushing them back and ignores merlin and is like "i want power, i want your power" blah blah blah monologue time and they swing another wave of magic out at the knights and knock many out while killing some and merlin is just like "ok no that's all folks thanks" and starts to push his own magic through the connection. the sorcerer has this wild gleam in their eyes and they feel more and more power fill them and it's like a high until it gets too much and they frantically try to sever the connection and their telling merlin to stop but merlin is just like "i thought you wanted my power? i'm giving it to you" and continues to flood the sorcerer with his magic until gold begins to trace their skin and they idk explode or smth and then all the magic flies back into merlin and he flexes his hands. unnamed knights 3, 6, 22, 53, and 55 still died so it's a tragedy.

a bunch of sorcerers are entertaining at a feast (kind of like the trickler) and they cast illusions all around the room that look real enough (unless you look too closely or touch it bc they are somewhat see through and your hand would pass right through them) and it's a fun and joyous night. later that week, the knights bring it up during their break while training and merlin is like "sure, what illusion should i cast?" and after some back and forth, he settles on the illusion of a dragon. it's around the size and age of aithusa bc that's all he has to go off of and it's gold since he took inspiration from the pendragon crest all around the area. it jumps around and flaps it's wings to get some air and it's all fine and dandy until elyan goes to poke his hand through it's ribs but meets physical scales and he jumps up into percival's arms. merlin looks closer and is like "oh. its real. whoops." and leon is like "whoops?? you make a real life dragon and all you have to say is whoops?" and merlin shrugs and is like "it was an accident" and leon about keels over from a heart attack "an accident? how do you accidentally-" the dragon is considered a gift from magic to camelot and helps further heal the wounds of uther's purge.

idk just like merlin being casually the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth and unnerving people just by how little he seems to care about his shows of power but they're all like "well he's just doing all these small things that don't harm anyone and he doesn't even seem to realize just how powerful he is so what can ya do?" and they leave it be and make peace with merlin being Like That. and then camelot/arthur is attacked or smth idk and then everyone gets to see exactly how powerful and dangerous merlin is

[moon-language-0]

original art by Rene Farias, edit by @fohatic

my fill for a @stuckonyvalentinecards stony prompt is up!

this fic also checks off the the "Don't Say Gay" square for my @SteveRogersBingo card :)

Tony couldn’t understand the reasoning behind all of it. For Steve to leave one stuffed animal for him was nice enough. A couple more was slight overkill, but still quite sweet. A couple dozen was something else, entirely.

read it here: Plush by @fohatic, Steve/Tony, 13k words, rated E

[not-poignant]

March 2024 Writing Round-Up

Here’s the monthly round-up of everything written and posted in March 2024!

Here’s the chapters that were released:

Birthday Spotlight - Gulvi Dubna Vajat

Underline the Black 82

Underline the Black 83

Underline the Black 84

Underline the Blue 12

Underline the Blue 13

Constellations 04

The Nascent Diplomat 42

The Nascent Diplomat 43 (Augus+Gwyn Tier+)

Underline the Blue 14 (Augus+Gwyn Tier+)

Underline the Blue 15 (Augus+Gwyn Tier+)

Constellations 07 (Gary+Efnisien Tier+)

Chapter Commentary - Underline the Black 37 (Mosk+Eran Tier+)

Chapter Commentary - Underline the Black 38 (Mosk+Eran Tier+)

FANFICTION

A Stain that Won't Dissolve 33

A Stain that Won't Dissolve 34

Palmarosa 20

Palmarosa 21

~

I managed a decent 39k words this month across 11 chapters. I actually wanted to do more (I secretly wanted to write another 4 chapters and hit a 50k+ wordcount which in retrospect is kind of nuts).

~

On the writing side, I wrote across multiple stories: Underline the Black, A Stain that Won't Dissolve, Underline the Gold, (Secret Project), and Constellations.

~

I’m pretty burnt out and working on getting my capacity back. I'm hoping to take two weeks off writing at the end of April, and we'll see if that helps.

I think burnout is something a lot of us are feeling and trying to learn how to navigate right now!

~

I’ll see you all in April!

[sexynetra]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Guess who’s finally done first round edits 😎 chapter 8 is not far off the horizon everybody clap and cheer

~~~~~~

“I don’t like musicals,” she repeated dumbly, her nerves growing worse and worse as Marcia kept staring.

“...okay? Don’t do the show then. What are you telling me for?” Marcia asked finally, crossing her legs and leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

Anetra turned back towards her desk, not wanting to meet Marcia’s eyes. “You like them. Musicals, I mean.”

“Yeah, I do, but I know not everyone does and that’s.” Marcia shrugged. “Fine. I guess. Weird, but fine. But to be honest, I don’t know where you're going with this.”

Anetra let out a frustrated groan. Talking to Marcia shouldn’t be this fucking difficult. She was regretting breaking her metaphorical vow of silence.

[optiwashere]

Writer friends, if you are getting any "this must be AI" comments from guests, those are bots.

[voltstone]

AYDF in meme summary

no im not procrastinating shut up.

[hecatesbroom]

By all accounts, I should've been working on one of my 5 ongoing wips. But when @the-eclectic-wonderer made this post (do yourself a favour and read the tags), and @eeblouissant posted Blanche in a leather jacket(!!) the next day, my hand slipped and I wrote a little Blanche/Rose Grease-inspired AU instead.

Summary

Rose Nylund has always been a good girl. That is, until she sees one Blanche Devereaux standing on the high school parking lot, leaning against a shiny new Ford, wearing a leather jacket. Blanche Devereaux has always been a rebel and a charmer -- but never has she loved someone before. That is, until Rose Nylund shows up and steals her heart.

[seancamerons]

Sneak Peek Sunday tagged by: @hydesjackiespuddinpop - thanks for the tag!💗

*Hi it's Brimi, I'm finally doing this. This sneak peek is from an upcoming, within the next couple of minutes fanfiction and work in progress/wip titled: 'Where are you Now?'.

Here goes. ✍

------

It was funny because never, not once did she believe she’d permanently reside along Los Angeles and among the stars, the rich upper echelons, the highways and mountains, and Hollywood glory, but the first time she slept so easily feeling that soul connection of being home as if she belonged for the first time. She didn’t have to fight, deny, or lie because no one would believe that she was ever truly happy over there. She almost lost it all being so careless out yonder, wondering and thinking pessimistically drowning, depressed, she feels at ease in the here and now, and she’s so determined to revise some damage in her departure.

She remembered the night before, slow dancing with Sean at Shoney’s bar to the tunes of Eric Clapton, and the magic of that dance, that she felt at peace once again, or close to it,  and all it took was an airplane to be home at the most wonderful of time of the year, to achieve true happiness and bliss, and while it may not last, she’ll never know for sure, she knows one thing, it’s going to suck going back home, saying goodbye once again. This time it’ll be different, she can feel it. Perhaps to Emma, like the old alma mater, where the blue and gold, brave and bold with stories to be told, Degrassi is, and forever more will always be, still her home. 

------

Here is the link to the story on fanfiction & a03.

Oh, and I've been tinkering with the idea of using a blog/sideblog or smthn, to also post fics one-shots chapters, accept questions about the chapters and more stuff, or rb my prompt fics and writing too, like a writingblr blog with like that sort of stuff lol, idk it's an idea. I can also do commissions and my reviews on it, who knows, and use this as my personal or something? Idk just an idea again, but something I wanna consider.

tagging: whoever wants to!

[jupitereater]

Can someone please write a time travel fic. Like Court Sorcerer/King consort Merlin goes back in time to like end of season 2 or season 3, and he basically just bursts in the middle of council meeting. Uther keeps trying to kill him but he’s Emrys, so obviously he can’t, and Merlin just goes about his business being powerful and trying to figure out a way to go back. And then one by one, everyone from the future starts popping up (knights, Gwen, maybe redeemed Morgana (?), Merlin and Arthur’s magical kid, and at the very end, Arthur). Cue the angst and fluff.

[octoberobserver]

The Gentleman Thief - Benoit Blanc/Phillip Fic

(Read on ao3)

“Mr. Blanc,” the plucky journalist, Stefani Kent began with an air of determination, though her face didn’t quite reflect that confidence. “I’d like to close our interview with the one case you couldn’t solve.”

Blanc stared at her over the rim of his teacup before gently placing it back down in its saucer.

“London. 1997.”

Her eyes shone with recognition.

“Yes, that one,” her head darted down to her notes before catching his piercing gaze. “It’s my understanding that early on in your career, you were brought in to consult with Scotland Yard about a local cat burglar. Nicknamed—”

“The Gentleman Thief,” Blanc finished with a slight shake of his head. “I always found that name mighty ridiculous, if I’m honest. The other ones too.”

Stefani shuffled through her notes.

“The Robin Hood of Highbury, Camden’s Cat Burglar, Notting Hill’s—”

“Yes, yes, he was renowned for robbin’ London’s most elite blind all over the city and gained a newfangled moniker every time,” he interjected, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. “He was mainly called a ‘gentleman’ for how he left his crime scenes. Immaculate, like he never disturbed a thing. As if he cleaned up after himself. It was almost polite, if not for the thousands of pounds worth of items pilfered from every home for months.”

He shifted in his seat, crossing his ankles as he cast his mind back to the case from nearly three decades ago as if it were yesterday.

“It was a compellin’ case. Millions of pounds in cash, trinkets, and jewelry stolen from the one percent, only to show up as anonymous donations to charities all across the city. I was a young man back then, just shy o’ thirty,” he chuckled, folding his hands in his lap. “It was my first overseas case and I was eager to dip my toes into international crime solvin’. I don’t think I ever coulda expected to be huntin’ an honest-to-God, real-life, rob-from-the-rich-and-give-to-the-poor bandit. And yet, there I was. A wet behind the ears foreigner stickin’ my nose in Brits’ business, surrounded by stumped ‘bobbies’ and Detective Inspectors demandin’ answers.”

A heavy pause followed that.

Stefani gnawed on the lid of her pen, enraptured.

“And did you give them any?”

Blanc stared out the window for a moment, before meeting her gaze again.

“I surmised a few theories. But I’m not in the business of guessin’, Ms. Kent. I deal in hard facts and evidence and, loath as I am to admit it, I came up short on both.”

She leaned forward in her seat, quite literally on the edge of it.

“But you did narrow it down to a profile, right? Something the police could go off of because you caught him in the act once.”

“More tea?”

They both looked up to find Blanc’s husband, Phillip, refilling their cups and placing another plate of sandwiches and cookies on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Mr. Thacker,” Stefani grinned before redirecting her attention to Blanc. “It is rumoured that you caught a glimpse of him once, but he escaped you.”

Blanc took another sip of his tea, nodding at Phillip in thanks, their eyes meeting across the room, a private smile passing between them.

“Hmm. Yes. The Gentleman Thief,” he murmured, placing the teacup down. “I did catch up to him once. Just barely. But he was more of a shadow, a suggestion of a man than anything concrete. Tall, strong build. No notable features to be seen in the dim light.”

Stefani scribbled something down in her notebook before glancing back up, face pensive.

“He wasn’t seen again after that night. What do you think happened to him?”

Blanc drummed his fingers on his knee, mulling it over.

“Oh, there are plenty of fanciful stories. Like any good mystery, everyone has their theories. Some say he was spooked by my pursuit so he moved his operation out of the city and trained others in the art of thievin’. Others say he fled to the Americas, fell in love, settled down under a new name, and left his life of crime behind him. Though, that’s not me speculatin’, mind ya. I don’t dwell on what ifs and maybes.”

“Of course.”

She made another note, the scratching of her pen filling the quiet, sun-streaked living room.

“Is that all, Ms. Kent?”

She looked up, offering him a pleased nod.

“Yes, that’s enough for my piece. Thank you, Mr. Blanc. You and your husband have a lovely home. I look forward to hearing your testimony on the events in Greece at Bron’s trial.”

They shook hands and exchanged final pleasantries before Phillip appeared once again.

“I’ll walk you out, Ms. Kent.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thacker,” Stefani beamed as Phillip held open the front door for her to step out into the hallway.

“My pleasure. I look forward to reading your article next month,” he grinned back, before nodding goodbye and beginning to shut the door.

“Oh! Mr. Thacker!”

Phillip pulled the door back slightly ajar, puzzled.

“Yes?”

The journalist looked a little abashed before shrugging.

“I was just wondering if it would be okay for me to ask a little about you too? Nothing too invasive, or anything that would violate your privacy.”

Phillip glanced over his shoulder briefly before nodding. “Alright, fire away.”

She whipped her notebook back out.

“You’ve lived in the States for over twenty-five years now, correct?”

“Yes. I arrived from London in the late nineties.”

“And, having studied to be a lawyer in London, you set out to qualify to practice US law?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And you met Mr. Blanc in…?”

“1998. At a fundraiser for the homeless.”

She looked up from her notes, their eyes locking.

“Has your and your husband’s philanthropy always been important to you? Looking out for the less fortunate?”

Phillip nodded firmly.

“Yes. Blanc and I have always had that in common. It’s what first drew me to him.”

Something crossed over Stefani’s face at that but she said nothing, merely holding out her hand for him to shake.

“Great. Thank you for your time, Mr. Thacker.”

He took her hand.

“Phillip, please.”

“Phillip, pleased to meet you,” she smiled before dropping his hand, turning on her heel, and making her way down the hallway toward the elevators.

He watched her go until she disappeared around the corner before finally closing the door with a snap.

“I know you wanna look through that peephole.”

He jumped at the sudden, very close voice just over his shoulder.

“Ben, Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Blanc’s lips gave an amused twitch as he took another step closer, reaching out and pulling Phillip into him, hands encircling his waist.

“There was a time when I couldn’t sneak up on you at all,” he half-whispered into his ear, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Hmm. Those were the days,” Phillip muttered as his hands fell to his hips, squeezing.

“Smart journalist that Stefani Kent. She’ll go far,” Blanc remarked lightly, leaning up to peck Phillip’s jaw.

He couldn’t contain his slight shiver at the press of those clever lips against his skin, even after all these years.

“Hmm. Very smart indeed,” he agreed before tensing. “You think she knows?”

A quiet beat passed between them.

“She might suspect,” Blanc mumbled into his neck, peppering it with comforting kisses. “But if she does, she has no proof.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Blanc drew back slightly, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re not worried, are you?”

A predictable scoff escaped Phillip.

“With you here? Never. Besides, it was sort of nice to take a trip down memory lane,” he smirked, his tone suggestive as he wound his husband back into his embrace, mouths brushing between words. “That ‘just shy of thirty, wet-behind-the-ears foreigner,’ did leave quite the impression on me.”

Even after twenty-five years, his imitation of Blanc’s accent was still wonderfully woeful. And Blanc loved him all the more for it.

“Well, the ‘just over thirty, wily gentleman with impeccable manners and even better penchant for philanthropy’ made quite the impression back,” Benoit murmured in an equally-awful English accent before leaning in for a proper kiss.

Phillip stopped smiling so he could deepen it, nipping at his bottom lip playfully before pulling back to look him in those striking eyes of his.

“I have to say, I did like your tale of what could have happened to him. Sounds nice. Like the best possible outcome. ‘A master thief falls in love with the dapper detective hired to catch him.’ It’s like something out of an Agatha Christie novel.”

Blanc trailed his hands up to clasp his shoulders.

“Hmm, but you know what they say. Truth is stranger than fiction.”

“That it is,” Phillip agreed. “It was fun chasing each other around London back then. Like the most adrenaline-fueled foreplay ever. I almost miss it.”

Blanc reached up to clasp his jaw, his thumb trailing his cheek.

“Well now, there are other ways to ignite adrenaline-fueled foreplay that doesn’t involve grand larceny, darlin’.”

“Oh, really?” Phillip asked, his innocent tone undercut by the spark in his gaze. “What do you suggest, then, Detective?”

[razzek]

Another little rant about a word I see way too much in fanfiction: peripherals.

This is not a real word. It is a bastardization of "peripheral vision" or "out of the corner of your eye". Unless you are an alien you do not have two visions. You have one vision and one peripheral vision that is the out of focus edges of your sight. People mangled this term because they assume you have two eyes and therefor peripheral vision must be in a pair also, but that is not how it works. This is up there with orbs in annoyance level for me, except it's even more literally wrong and if you know even a tiny thing about how sight works this is one of those words that will bitch slap you right out of a story every time.

[thisishowgalaxiescollide]

Leafs fans actively wanting to trade matthews, marner and/or nylander because they believe it will make the team better are the reason I will stop cheering for this team.

[007reid]

187. spencer reid (18+)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you're dealing with a dumb, whiny boy and you are wondering where your boy genius went.

warnings: 18+, sub!spencer & dom!reader, dumbification, whining, whimpering, overstimulation, handjob, orgasm denial, begging..you know the rest ;)

a/n: this is a result of too much ai spencer tiktok edits....wrote in a rush on my phone late at night but that's how fanfiction are meant to be written. enjoy angels <3 requests are open if anyone want to drop by!

“okay spencer, this is an easy one. can you answer it for me baby?" you pause expectantly, and it takes him a while, but spencer only mewls in response, frustrated. "what states are next to louisiana?”

you see spencer’s eyebrows slowly pent up in thought but then he immediately gives up in lieu of letting out another pathetic moan, bucking up uselessly to your fingers. “answer the question baby," you prod sweetly, kissing your words into his cheek.

“i-hnfgg…” he pants breathlessly, eyes shut tight and when they flutter open, they are round with plead. “please, it hurts so bad, please let me cum i—“

you let go of his cock entirely and he whines, trying to shuffle closer so that you would touch him. in response you move away further, smirk at your lips. “be a good boy for me and i will.”

“i am being a good boy for you!” spencer whines, his eyes blown with need and watering, body writhing pathetically against the sheets. his dick is flushed an angry red and you know he’s only several strokes away from coming undone, being so closely attuned to your boy. “i’m being good i—“ his words hitched in his throat as you gently caress only the tip of his cock, teasing.

“the good boy i remember is super smart,” you slide up to him, pressing a leering kiss on his jaw. “the guy has an iq of 187. can you believe that? how rare is that?”

spencer doesn’t answer, his pleas and whines soft and stuck in his throat as he keeps trying to buck up his hips to get more of your touch, but with no avail. “hm? how rare is it spence?”

“i don’t know!” he cries, tears leaking and wetting his pretty lashes. “i—please it hurts so bad, just please let me cum i’ll do anything, please!”

“answer me and i’ll let you cum baby boy,” you say smoothly, removing your hand from him (which elicited a very impatient groan) to spit on your palm before going back again, moving your hand up and down his shaft deliberately slow. you know it drives him crazy, even crazier than he is right now and you soak in the satisfaction of it. “how many people has your kind of genius spence? hm?" you add encouragingly. "get this one right for me and i’ll let you cum baby.”

“i…uhh….” he's slow, and even slower with your hand working and overstimulating his already-sensitive cock. “one out of every hundred million people. 1000 who ever lived,” he finally decides to peel open his eyes again, searching your face for any hint of approval. as a response you flick up your wrist quickly and he nods his head back, an obscene and needy moan coming out of his mouth.

“and the states surrounding louisiana?”

his head snaps back immediately and stares at you in betrayal, like a kid being scammed out of his cookie, completely flustered and debauched. “you said one question!”

“i changed my mind baby,” you soothe, pressing an apology kiss in the corner of his mouth. “the faster you are the faster you get to cum. do you want to cum honey?”

“yes! yes i wanna cum so bad,” he cries, hands coming up to rest lightly at your waist and you can feel the tremble in them. the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach has been there for at least half an hour now and you’ve just been toying with it, reliving it then bringing the pressure back. now he’s an absolute mess, curly hair sprayed on the pillow and stuck to his forehead, his pretty, delicate face ruined with tear stains, but it just makes him prettier. he’s completely at your mercy, writhing and whimpering and begging you to do something about his looming orgasm and you denying him of it.

“then answer the question baby boy,” you murmur encouragingly in his ear, fingers still teasing him. he’s so sensitive and overstimulated to the point that a single touch can make his entire body jump, so you are careful. too much and he might actually loose it, and you both know this. “you remember it, right spence?” you press, "the question?"

“hnngg,” he whimpers when you start biting on the lobe of his ear, grabbing and squeezing onto the sheets for dear life. “umm…arkansas and… i-i don’t know,” he admits shamefully, then desperately tries to make up for it. “but i got the first one! you said if i get it i could cum. i’ve been such a good boy for you, just this one time, please!” he begs, not in control of what he says anymore and it shows. he’s completely delirious and fucked stupid, and you take pity on him.

“aww, my sweet boy,” you coo sweetly, running your fingers through his messy mop of hair and pulling it away from his face for him. “i’m sorry angel, but if you can’t get it right, you don’t get to cum,” you whisper faux apologetically in his ear. you see when spencer’s eyes widen with horror, and the tears begins to fall freely.

“please,” he begs, his fingers pleadingly reaching out to try to touch you, convince you to change your mind. it’s a foolish and naive attempt, and he knows it too but can’t help taking his chances. he’s desperate for anything. “please, i’ll be so good for you. i’ll be your best boy. i promise. i swear. it hurts so bad y/n please, i cant take it—“

“fine,” you give in, only because you know for a fact that he can't last any longer. really, you're surprised he's managed to make it this long so far; you had already planned his punishment in your mind. your boy deserves his reward.

you speed up your movements and the sounds coming out of his mouth becomes wanton, sobs becomes louder and his whines a pitch higher and he’s strung high like a violin string, ready to snap. “cum for me, pretty boy.”

at your command his body gives out obediently, thick strings of cum spitting out of his cock, painting your hand and his hips, coating at his thighs. he twitches and his thighs tremble weakly as small blurts of cum starts to collect at the tip of his cock and you kiss him during all of it as he cries against your lips. he pants hard, and when you accidentally swipe a finger over him, he whines painfully and inches out the way, sore. when it’s over, he collapses into you, spent.

“thank you,” he says, sounding genuinely grateful, his voice muffled and his face buried in your shoulder. you laugh, fingers smoothing out the mess of his hair, pulling his head back and pressing kisses all over his face. spencer needs the aftercare, especially after being edged on for so long, needs the love and the assurance and the cuddles afterwards. "i love you."

"and i you," you say, smiling when he whines predictably, unsatisfied.

"you gotta say the whole thing," he says, looking mildly upset, lips jutting out and giving you the fattest, most foul and adorable pout, eyes big and searching.

"'m sorry," you weave your fingers with his, and he presses a kiss against your knuckles. "i love you."

[ddejavvu]

'oh, you LOVE me!' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

The team visiting Spencer for one reason or another on their day off & reader opens the door (maybe even wearing one of Spence's shirts) and that's how they all find out Spencer is in a relationship?

The doorbell rings, and even if Spencer weren't hobbling around on crutches with a rolled ankle, you'd have bolted to answer the door. You've got new shoes coming, a treat from your boyfriend himself, and they're set to arrive today before 9PM. It's 6, and you're eager to finally put them on.

However, it's not the mailman at the door, not unless the US Postal Service has gotten a huge budget increase. The man that stands at the door is dressed in a fine suit, something you're sure cost more than double what your shoes had, and he seems mildly surprised to see you behind the door.

There's a posse of people behind him, and you wonder if this is some sort of special delivery system. But no one seems to have your package, and you tilt your head at an angle, "Can I help you?"

His eyes narrow infinitesimally, curiously, "Yes, we're here to see Dr. Spencer Reid," The man speaks up, his voice deep and smooth, "Did we have the wrong address?"

"No- No! Hotch," Spencer shouts from his place on the couch, and you hear the clatter of crutches, "Hotch, wait!"

"Spencer," You gush, ditching the door to make sure he doesn't tip himself over in his sudden pursuit of his callers, "Spence, go slow, you'll trip."

"I'm fine," He pants, moving as fast as he can to the door, his cheeks unusually rosy, "Uh, what- what do you guys need?"

Upon sighting him, the rest of the people behind the door exchange glances with each other, like they hadn't quite believed just his voice. You're hovering awkwardly behind Spencer now, looking up at your houseguests curiously, and waiting for them to speak.

"We brought you cookies," A blonde woman behind the man in the suit pipes up, hands decked out in jewelry as she brandishes a ziploc bag of treats, "And- and Morgan has medical tape he thinks you should use on your ankle, and JJ made a casserole, and we just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I was going to offer to hire you a live-in nurse," An older man pipes up from the back, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, glancing back at you with a small smirk, "But I'm not sure that's necessary."

"Thank you for the stuff." Spencer reaches out for the bag, keeping his crutch stabilized beneath his shoulder, "Y/N, can you- the casserole, um-"

"I got it," You jump forward to help, taking a dish from another blonde woman standing beside the first. The bottom is warmed, and she smiles kindly at you as she passes it off, nodding at your thnaks.

"Here's the tape," A man pipes up, muscles straining the t-shirt he's wearing as he sets a roll of medtape over the foil on the casserole. He grins at you, and the expression shifts more into a teasing one when he speaks to Spencer, "Sorry for interrupting."

"Oh, you weren't interrupting," You shake your head, "Are you- you're Spencer's coworkers, right?"

At their round of nods, you readjust your grip on the casserole, "Would you want to come eat with us? We could-"

"Our apartment is messy," Spencer cuts you off, hand already on the door to shut it on their shit-eating grins, "Thanks for the food, sorry you can't stay. See you tomorrow."

He shuts the door without offering them another word, and you gasp, "Spencer! That's rude, open the door!"

"They are relentless," Spencer locks it, heading towards you and backing you against the kitchen counter where you set the casserole, "If you let them in, they'll tease us both until our ears bleed, angel. They're not offended, and you can meet them some other time," He promises, kissing your forehead where you stand frowning at him, "When we're at someone else's house, and my ankle is healed so that we can run to the car and leave early when they lay into us."

[hecatesbroom]

So uh. Golden Girls fic #3 this month, anyone? I initially wrote this one as a little drabble, exploring how I could reconcile my lesbian!Dorothy and Dorothy/Blanche/Rose headcanons with the show's ending. A little drabble turned into a long, angsty introspective piece and a long, angsty introspective piece turned into a soon-to-be two-chapter work because I just couldn't leave it on that note.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! (prepare for angst)

Summary

Lying awake in her new bed, in her new home, next to her new husband, Dorothy tries not to cry herself to sleep for the umpteenth time since getting married. She reflects on what really brought her here — and she finally faces up to the fears that pushed her over the edge. A little exploration of what happens after the show's ending.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Kinktober Day 2: Bruising

Carlisle Cullen x GN! Reader

Summary: Carlisle being a little too rough with evidence to show for it in the morning.

Warnings: Established Relationships, Smut, Rough, Bruises, Pain

Kinktober Masterlist

Minors do not interact!

Conflict sparked along your hips, starting all from Carlisle's cold hands guided by tunnel vision. Cock sunken deep within your warm mortal insides, making the sliver venom rush to his face. Foggily watching as his face glows in the dim rays of the sunrise.

Spiraled on the bed, pillows had been kicked off while others brought comfort, propping parts of your body up for Carlisle to devour.

Moans danced around the room, pathed into both of your ears, accompanied by the instrumentals of the bed threatening to break under Carlisle's unmerciful movements of love. Dull pain stung around your body with the waves of feral pleasure, it all mixing into a perfect harmony that you sang to, enchaining the vampire further.

Leaning in, burying his hips into you, wanting to feel every inch of you, loving as your head drew back, hearing as his balls slammed against you with eyes blinded by the euphoric feeling.

"Carlisle," you plead, but he ignores you, leaving you to burst at the seams, watching as you arched back, whining out his name, pulling your vampire lover close to his climax.

Not having to wait long, hearing as his heavy breaths increased, his groans so close to your ear threatening to reignite a hunger for another round. Moans curl out of your throat, feeding his greed to cum. Quickly pull out of you, leaving a sharp emptiness, trading it for a white warmth that spilled atop your body.

Purple bruises shined in the morning sun's light, painting a timeline of the night, some resembling the silhouette of hands now etched on your body for the next two weeks. Two weeks of having to remind your passionate lover of their existence the next time he wanted to make more.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

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