FanFic writer • Search #Jen's Masterlist for list of fanfics: SPN, TWD, B99, Stranger Things 🖤Dean Winchester is the love of my life🖤Anything you wanna know, just ask 🖤 "Patreon"
if so you should totally continue of the rosa diaz/reader fics! i know you haven’t worked on any of them since 2018/2019 but i love them so so so much and their my favorite fics- i have them printed and laminated in a binder lol!
Oh, my lovely, this made me smile. I’ve gotten so many requests to finish Partners with Benefits over the years… the desire to finish all my incomplete fics is definitely there! Hoping once my kids go back to school I can get on the Rosa story and my Dean Winchester ones as well.
Thank you for the reminder that people are still interested in my work! It truly made my day
After a lot of writing, rewriting, plotting, deleting, rewriting again, and probably enough caffeine to concern medical professionals…
I'm excited to officially announce that my reworked SOA/Mayans MC fic, Roads We Didn't Choose, will begin posting on Monday, June 29th.
Some of you may remember my older fic, Scars Remain. After revisiting that story, I realized there were a lot of things I wanted to expand on, change, and explore differently. What started as a rewrite eventually became a complete reimagining of Lex's journey.
While some familiar faces and themes remain, this version has been rebuilt from the ground up with expanded character arcs, deeper relationships, additional storylines, and a much larger focus on healing, found family, and recovery.
❤️ Chibs
🏍️ Mayans MC
❤️🩹 Trauma recovery
🤝 Found family
🔥 Slow burn Bishop romance
😭 Angst
🥹 Comfort
💀 Club chaos and shenanigans
Posting Schedule:
📅 Mondays
📅 Wednesdays
📅 Fridays
Starting June 29th.
I've already built up a substantial chapter buffer, so updates will be consistent.
If you'd like to be tagged when chapters go live, drop a comment below and I'll add you to the tag list.
Thank you to everyone who supported Scars Remain over the years and to everyone willing to take this new journey with me.
I cannot wait for you all to meet this version of Lex.
Roads We Didn't Choose
Alexandra "Lex" Telford vanished without a trace.
When a Mayans MC rescue mission for Leticia Cruz uncovers another captive hidden in the basement, Bishop expects a witness. What he finds instead is the missing daughter of a SAMCRO brother—and a woman carrying more scars than anyone should have to bear.
As old alliances bring the Sons and Mayans together, Lex must learn how to live again in a world she no longer recognizes. Healing isn't a straight road, and neither is finding a place to belong.
A story about survival, found family, second chances, and the roads we never meant to travel.
to all of my fic authors, x reader authors, and fandom writers. you're so talented and amazing. your work is so important and your readers love all the hard work you do.
i hope you never feel like your work isn't good enough or you aren't talented enough to make good writings. believe me when i say you are.
you all are so loved man and so appreciated. you guys make my day, truly.
Summary: Always hoping that your one-night stand is creative enough to earn a notch on your bedpost, the man you've chosen this time surprises you in more ways than one.
Warnings: A bit of foreplay; Implied sex
Word Count: 1,790
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Word of the Day: (June 3, 2026) - Notch
Author Notes: Thanks for the read-through @princessmisery666.
Graphics: Made by me.
Master List: Word Of The Day
Lips and tongues locked together in a delicate yet fiery dance of desire, you walk him backward into your bedroom while working his belt open. Jackets and shoes had been discarded in the foyer, his tie tossed over the stair railing, shirt abandoned on the first landing, your top and bra cast off in the hallway.
His surprised grunt when his back hits the solid wood breaks the kiss. Hands still snug on your hips, he spins and practically tosses you onto the bed. Eyes hungrily roam your body as he reaches to grip the bedposts and almost immediately drops his hands.
Raising an eyebrow, he leans over to inspect the detail he’d felt beneath those rough, warm, and wonderfully large hands. With a chuckle, he asks, “Are these what I think they are?”
“What,” slipping off the rest of your clothing as you shuffle up to the pillows, recaptures his attention, “do you think they are?”
The corner of his mouth curls as he removes his remaining garments.
Your eyes shift downward, hips rolling with the clench of your pussy. Pride triggers a wave of endorphins and heat pools in your core, certain in the knowledge that you chose well, and this one will earn the twist of your knife to mark his time here.
His smile is smug as he puts a knee on the mattress. “I think,” resting his weight on his forearms, he settles above you, “I’m going to be a notch on your bedpost.”
“Mmmm, well, that” he’s suckling the pulse in your neck, but not hard enough to leave a mark, “depends on how good you are.”
“Oh, yeah?” He kisses along your collarbone, fingers gently gliding down your side.
“Y-yeah.” You feel him smile against your skin when he hits a ticklish spot, and your body reacts. “Only the good ones earn a notch.”
“What if,” a tiny nip at the top of your breast, a quick flick of his tongue over a taut nipple, “I’m better than good?”
Your body instinctively arches, craving to have that perfect mouth latch onto you, teeth scraping your flesh. Instead, his fingers knead your thigh, holding you down as he places kisses across your stomach. “Then you get a place on the headboard. Or, if you’re really, really good, I'll let you carve it yourself …wherever you want.”
The answer distracts him from his descent. He pushes up enough to scan the unmarked panel behind you. Tilting his head, he searches the nightstands and the frame above. “Really?”
His shocked demeanor makes you chuckle, but there is also something akin to sadness in his expression. Like he’s displeased for you. Shaking your head, you sigh, “Sadly, no. I have very high standards.”
Lips pursed, he seems to mull that over for a moment. Lying on his stomach, he nudges a shoulder against your leg, urging you to rest it across his back as he wraps his arm around to hold it there. Face hovering over your mound, he lifts his gaze, and a lethal smirk slowly forms on plump, ruddy lips. “Challenge accepted,” he states, burying his gorgeous face in the wet heat between your legs.
You wake with a groan, muscles protesting as you stretch, but it’s a good ache. Memories of last night make you smile as you snuggle back into the pillow. Calloused fingers ghost over your shoulder and down your arm.
“Sleep well?”
“Mhmm,” Eyes still closed, not wanting to face reality quite yet, you ask, “You?”
“Best I have in a while.”
“Good,” you mumble, and pat his chest, feeling the laugh before you hear it.
You’re drifting off again when he clears his throat. “Uhm, so.”
“No.”
“No?”
Burrowing deeper into the covers, you whine, “Don't want to get up yet.”
“That’s not-“
“What?”
“Sorry. Never-”
Blinking your eyes open at the rustle of sheets and the shift in weight, you grip his arm before he can stand. “Wait. I’m sorry.” Shifting to a more upright position, you run a hand over your mouth to quickly check for drool and, thankfully, find none. “I’m not a cheery morning person.”
“No worries.” Turning to place a knee on the bed, he leaves the other foot planted on the floor, and you realize he’s already half-dressed. “I get it.” He smiles, his demeanor seems expectant.
You smile back, giving a weird little shrug, not sure what to say. Why is this so awkward?
Oh, right. They usually don’t stay.
Then it clicks. None of the others had noticed the marks. Or if they did, they didn’t bother to ask. He’s the first one you discussed it with. He woke you to see how he did. A laugh bubbles in your throat, but then he pats the bed.
“Well, I should probably go.”
“Wait.” The word is pushed out on a frantic exhale, louder than you intended. “Sorry. Just …hold on, I have something for you.”
He arches a brow, feigning surprise, but you can tell he knows what’s coming and expected this outcome. This time, you do laugh and tease, “Ass.”
A hand goes to his chest in mock offense, but the laugh he shares is genuine.
Reaching behind the wood frame next to your head, you pull the knife from its hidden sheath and hold it out to him.
“Wow.”
You’re not quite sure if he’s scared or impressed; maybe it’s both. “Safety first, right?” you unapologetically state.
“Uh, yeah. I’m a little frightened now, but that’s badass.”
He carefully grips the hilt, testing its weight before thoroughly inspecting it. “This is a good knife.”
“Thanks,” you say cheerfully, unsure why you’re elated by his approval. “Alright, I’m gonna,” sliding from the bed, you tilt your head toward the bathroom, “while you, uh, do your thing.”
“Headboard?” he calls out as you reach the doorway.
Peering over your shoulder, you match his cheeky grin. “Anywhere you’d like.”
You’ve never seen a more brilliant smile in your entire life.
Though expected, you’re disappointed to find him gone when you exit the bathroom. You’d taken a few minutes to make yourself more presentable just in case, or to give him a little extra time if he wanted to leave without further conversation.
His mark is easy to find, and your smile grows as you draw closer. He scarred the headboard, right above your pillow. Not with a simple notch, but two distinct letters—D.W.
Fingers tracing the freshly carved wood, you’re reminded that this is where you flattened your hand to protect your head and to give you leverage as he railed into you. Pressing your hand against the carving, you find that the letters fit perfectly within the space of your palm.
Impressed by his attention to detail, you check behind the headboard to find your knife safely back in its hiding place. Yep, you chose well. He’s going to be a hard act to follow. Too bad you couldn’t have more time with him.
Heading downstairs after getting dressed, you hear him before you see him. He turns, phone to his ear, as you hover in the doorway.
He holds up a finger and quickly finishes his conversation, “I gotta go. Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll see ya then.” Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he gives you a sheepish grin. “Sorry. That was my brother. I was gonna make you some coffee before I left,” he gestures to the pot and bag of coffee grounds on the counter, “but then he called.”
“You were going to make me coffee?” Sexy and sweet.
Grimacing, he rubs the side of his neck. “That’s, uh …yeah, that’s not weird at all. OK, right,” he gives a clipped nod and points toward the door, “I’m gonna go.”
As he’s about to pass by you, you ask, “Would you like a cup?”
“What?”
Walking toward the coffee maker, you repeat, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Uh. Yeah, that …that would be awesome.”
“Great. Have a seat.” He offers to make it for you, but when you decline, he sits, fingers fidgeting with a dish towel you'd left on the countertop. Checking the carton in the fridge, you find the cream is only two days past expiration, but give it a sniff test to be sure and find it passable. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black.”
Nodding, you pull two cups from the cupboard, and though it’s not done brewing, you fill one nearly to the brim, adding cream to the other as an escaped drop sizzles on the base plate.
"Thank you." Dragging his bottom lip between his teeth as you set the steaming mug in front of him, he states, “You don’t have to be polite. I’ll leave if you want me to go.”
“Huh?” He lifts his chin toward the machine behind you as another drip falls to bubble and burn away. “Oh. No.” You wave off his concern with a laugh as you replace the glass decanter. “I’m impatient. I always have at least one cup before it finishes.”
You’re also horrible at small talk, and wonder if he is too, or if he's sensing the same surreal tension as you. You can hear the soft rattle of the metal barstool as his leg bounces while you stand across from him, each silently drinking your coffee. Should you ask his name? Or would that make it even more awkward at this point? The faint clanking stops with the thud of his foot hitting the floor.
“So," you say simultaneously, then chuckle in unison.
With a lopsided grin, he raises a hand, indicating for you to go ahead.
"You have plans today?” It feels like a strange thing to ask, but it's the first thing that popped into your head that seemed appropriate to say aloud.
“Actually,” setting his cup down, he runs his hands over his thighs, “my brother and I just finished up a job, and he decided to go visit his girlfriend. So I have a couple of days free.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“It’s not?”
“Well, it’d be more fun if I had someone to spend it with.” Lips pursed, he waggles his eyebrows, nearly causing you to choke on the coffee you just slurped down. “What’dya think?”
“Are you actually asking, or testing the waters?”
Color tinges his cheeks, but then the confidence that drew you to him decides to shine. “I’m asking if you’d like to put a couple more notches on that bed, with me.”
Laughing, you set your cup aside and lean on the counter in front of him, giving him a nice view of your cleavage. “That’s not how that works, but I’d love to spend more time with you …”
Sometimes, it's just too much. Multiple voices, both out loud and in my head, telling me far too much information at one time.
Over stimulation is a real bitch.
Wanting to be there for the people I love, but how can I be when I don't have anything in the tank to even be there for myself.
Constantly struggling with mental, physical and financial limitations is causing an emotional imbalance that is slowly tearing down relationships I hold close to my heart.
Depression, sometimes silent, is currently the loudest voice of all; not to mention the most cruel. All the things you think you've battled and won against, come back like a rushing 20 foot wave, knocking me over and crushing my lungs with its vengenance.
And yet, I smile. Not because I feel any type of joy, but so those around me aren't affected by the things in my head.
We’re still here! And even better, our contestants have been hard at work crafting amazing stories that we are so excited to share.
And share we shall!
Submissions will be posted starting June 14 thru June 21 on individual blogs, and their works and master list will be reblogged on the SC:TJAC blog June 22-June 28.
Mark your calendars because you’re not gonna wanna miss this!!
Oh, did we mention you’re going to help pick two winners for a special prize?
Reader’s choice voting opens June 30th and closes July 30th, giving you plenty of time to read all of the amazing stories and vote for your favorites!
The authors have been hard at work and deserve lots of love and readers! So, stay tuned for the epicness to unfold!
Ramble On Writing... @coffee-obsessed-writer - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
amandla
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
blakekathryn
gamechangershow
discoholicmusic
jimmyeatworldofficial
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
ellievsbear
