#do people leave this hellsite for three months
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All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)
Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader
Rating: 18+ Only
Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo
Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖
You can catch up here!
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Y/N’S POV
The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.
“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.
“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.
“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.
“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”
“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”
“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.
“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.
“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.
“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.
You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.
“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea.
“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.
“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.
“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.
“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”
“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.
“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”
It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.
“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.
“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.
“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.
“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.
Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.
“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”
“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.
“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”
“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”
“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.
“I do,” Sam responds.
“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”
“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.
“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”
“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.
“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.
You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.
He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.
“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.
“Where is he?”
Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.
You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.
Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.
“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.
Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.
“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.
“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.
“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.
Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.
“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.
Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.
“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”
Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.
“No!” he growls. “Mine.”
Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.
He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.
You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.
“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties.
“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”
Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.
“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.
Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.
As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.
“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.
You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.
Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.
As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.
It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.
It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha.
“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”
His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.
It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.
You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.
“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.
“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.
Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.
When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.
A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.
The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.
The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.
“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.
“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”
You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.
Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut.
As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.
Cry.
DEAN’S POV
Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.
He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.
“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.
Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.
“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food.
When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.
Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.
Y/N’S POV
After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.
“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.
He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.
When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.
Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.
Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.
“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.
“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.
“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”
��I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”
“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”
The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.
“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”
The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.
“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”
You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.
“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”
“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”
“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”
THE END
Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567
#j3bingo#omegaverse#a/b/o universe#alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x reader#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o
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*crawls straight out of hell* I. Am. Alive!
Kinda.
Another unintentional semi-hiatus, I know, but I can at least promise that it's the last one of this year. As for why I was MIA this time... a lot happened.
So I went back home for summer vacation last month. My queue ran out at about the time I was coming back to Japan. The plan was to refill it right away, but I got sick before my flight. I caught a cold from my sister and the very draining 40-hour trip back to Tokyo made it worse.
Like, a lot worse. Worse than when I had covid, even.
This has been one of the nastiest colds I've ever had and definitely the worst one I've had after becoming an adult. I've never had such horrible coughing fits and my throat was so badly affected that it took three weeks for it to recover. My voice also got hoarse as hell, but it wasn't even because of the coughing. No, it was because my lungs were so full of fluid that not enough air was passing through for me to be able to use my voice.
The worst part was being able to fall asleep, though. I couldn't breathe properly while unconscious, so I had apnoea and was only able to fall asleep by passing out from exhaustion. It got so bad that at some point I was having hypnagogic hallucinations. 100% bad experience, do not recommend.
While all of that was happening, classes had resumed, so I had to deal with this and attend grad school, do part-time job, unpack my stuff and re-organize my apartment, etc. It took me about a month to be fully back on my feet, but if there's one good thing about all of this, it's that it gave me time to fill up my drafts and queue. It's been a really long time since I've seen so many edits going on. I missed being able to stay consistent on this website, and luckily, it doesn't seem like there'll be a lack of content anytime soon. I also took a little extra time coming back here because I've been doing my end-of-semester projects in advance, so that I can save time later. The things I do for this hellsite, lol.
I apologize for leaving people hanging in my inbox. I'll reply to all of your messages as fast as I can!
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Hello Ms Luta 💜💫
How are you? I hope you're feeling better 💕
Idk if you remember me, I'm the internship anon from last month. First of all, I want to thank you and the nice people who shared their advices in the notes, they helped me with my nerves. I did not 1 but 2 interviews in two different companies and wasn't chosen in neither at last 😅 I feel kind of a failure, but my tutor has put me and 2 other classmates in a place where there's now an ex student who did his internship there last school year and got hired and since this place has its own system which is a bit hard to learn, the bosses want to leave at least one of us hired if we perform well, so I'm not complaining at all. Tomorrow is my first day and I'm not nervous, but I would lie if I say I'm not intimidated by this new experience. Anyways, I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to respond to my silly asks and for sharing your thoughtful opinions on bls on this hellsite
Hey nonnie love!!!
First, I'm so glad us coconuts could help!
Second, don't look at it as a failure, but that it wasn't the right place for you. My college professor used to come into my retail job and asked me what the hell I was doing, not because she was knocking retail, but because she was my psychology professor. 🤣🤣🤣 I'll tell you what I told her, the right opportunity just hadn't hit. Then I ended up in the job from hell for about three years, but it taught me that I could do anything. Because of those weird roads, I'm in the best possible job that allows me to do everything I want. Maybe I don't have as much writing time as I'd like right now, but hey, can't win them all.
The place just wasn't for you, but you put the tunnel vision on. Know what you want and apply the determination to get what you want. You'll get it. Know that even if you make mistakes, it's a lesson learned and sometimes a faster way to a goal. Most importantly, a job is not your life, it's a means to earn a living, but there are other jobs out there. You can always get another job, but it's much harder to find relationships that fulfil you. You won't starve if you have the determination, so don't let this psych you out. It's a job, it will never be as important as the relationships and experiences that bring you joy.
I'm proud of you. You made it to the job interview. You pushed past your fears. Pat yourself on the back. Who cares if you don't make it to the finish line with the fast sprinters. Who knows what advantages they had, and who cares. You're making it to the finish line. Hell to the Yeah! Good job! Appreciate each goal you achieve. You're amazing, and I'm so excited to hear about even more goals you accomplish. If you can't cheer for yourself, I'll do it for you because I'm damn proud of you. Seriously, good job. 💜💜💜
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knowing your partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier. ( repost do not reblog ! )
✿ name: G/Spacy
✿ PRONOUNS: She/Her
✿ preference of communication: Definitely discord, ims suck.
✿ name of muse(s): Lena ‘Tracer’ Oxton
✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): I started on this hellsite I think in like 2014/2015? so something 7/8 years?
✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: Mostly tumblr and discord
✿ best experience: Tbh I have so many great memories from this blog, it’s part of the reason I can’t leave. There was the great glitter incident of 2016, crack with Sombra and Lexi, worldbuilding with so many great people. I’ve met people from around the world here, which is something so incredibly cool for me. I still have friends who have long moved on from here that I talk to on a daily basis. One of these days I’m gonna make it out to see some of these people because they’ve been so close for so long.
✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: Honestly I’m a pretty easy going person. I don’t have a lot dealbreakers, outside of the typical ‘don’t godmode/don’t step on me/my boundaries. Probably spam or forced interactions.
✿ fluff, angst or smut: Honestly, all three. I will always been a sucker for angst (poor Reikkon keeps seeing it randomly pop out at the worst times lately), but I think fluff has a very important place in writing too. Given the material and Overwatch itself, most of my writing leans more toward the angsty side (because come on, a girl abandoned to time and a robot apocalypse are pretty angsty but yknow). Shipping isn’t a huge thing on this blog but I’ve enjoyed writing smut on other blogs too.
✿ plots or memes: Both! Most of my threads start off as memes and then I’ll usually pop into dms/discord so we can plot where to go from there. I have a lot of wishlist items so it’s always nice to get to plot some wishlist stuff, but aside from that, memes are great too.
✿ long or short replies: I am a very, very long winded person and I love to write, so they usually end up being longer. I love to explore the inner/outer dialogue of the characters and overall reactions so I can get a little out of hand sometimes.
✿ best time to write: Honestly whenever I have the time tbh. Sometimes I can write all day ( like last night ) but othertimes it might be weeks before you see something ic out of me. I try to balance out those times with aes or musings, rather than too much ooc, but even that can get out of hand sometimes. So sorry for some of that.
✿ are you like your muse(s): I’d say a little bit. I try to draw some positivity from her. The constant, good outlook on life is something I’ve tried for a long time to master, so it’s nice to get to write it as well. As far as being soldier/pilot/time traveller? Not so much.
TAGGED BY: @threebetrayals
TAGGING: @throughconflict @femtaile @facetedspades @veqva @tlacehualli @quick-drawn @florafound whoever else wants to do it
#( ooc. )#It's munday so I can post this#( munday shenanigans. )#I knew I still had that tag somewhere
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So, I see a lot of people doing celebrations for hitting a certain number of followers (congrats to those peeps! Reaching 10 or 3000 followers is a monumental feat on this hellsite). Well, I decided to have some fun with that by doing a Sixty Followers Lost Celebration!
What does that mean, you ask?
Well, it means sixty of the three hundred followers I did have suddenly disappeared!
Now, I’m figuring I lost those followers for one (or a combination of) three reasons:
A) Tumblr finally got around to deleting those porn blogs/bots I reported a bazillion years ago…
B) The changes Tumblr has made over the last few months to their service has caused a disruption in the follower count
But I doubt it…
And the most likely one of all C) The Collective finds this Queen Bee so offensive because she doesn’t toe the line that they exited my hive
To celebrate this monumental feat, I am opening up my inbox to those looking to promote their art/written work or the art/written work of someone they follow and who doesn’t get the love and attention they deserve (because the algorithm on this site sucks balls).
Now, I’m no prude here but let’s keep the art tasteful (SFW in other words), shall we?
Now, images that are tastefully done, I will consider. I mean…
Written works can also be from any fandom but I reserve the right to review what I’m comfortable with reading. Again, not a prude here, but I’m not someone who reads NSFW stuff as a general rule.
Gifs, videos, mood boards, wallpapers, and even icons are also welcomed as they’re all works of art that deserve love.
Poetry and original fiction is also welcomed.
If you can’t decide on something to submit? Submit a blog and I will spotlight that blog in a post!
Let’s have some fun here, folks, and show love to the people who work their fingers to the bone creating content we love and enjoy! Content creators are leaving because they don’t feel loved and wanted. I, myself stopped posting here because I was tired of shouting into the
Let’s get content creators trending and spread some love, huh?
#sixty follower lost celebration#support content creators#support artists#support writers#get content creators trending#scorp!talk#let’s show our creators some love!
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Important things to remember !
I can be slow. I have a life outside of tumblr. Sometimes I will reply in 0.2 seconds, sometimes it will take me a couple of weeks, more or less. It all depends on my energy and what my muse is leaning towards at the moment, plus there are a lot of factors like my irl schedule, my family, or my mental and physical health that can affect how much time and energy I can spare for writing. I literally have things in my drafts from three months ago because I am a Mess. My reply speed isn't a direct reflection of my interest, and if for any reason either of us decides we're not feeling a thread anymore, that's fine. And it IS okay to ask and make sure I got your reply / starter / ask / etc if you think I might have missed it bc I am forgetful and tumblr's notifications suck most of the time, I don't consider that to be pressuring me.
I have bad social anxiety. I'm working on getting better about it and have been for the past several years, but I have a disorder, so sometimes I'm having to actively work against my own funky brain chemistry. I'm not the greatest at reaching out or carrying on conversations; I'm shy, and I blank out a lot. Even if we're friends and have known each other for a while, I still have these moments, and it's never personal. I welcome ooc communication, but I know I'm not always the best at it, and I know I'm not the only one who has to deal with social anxiety so besties I promise you I understand and will never be mad if we're not talking 24/7. I just want the same understanding in return, bc how much I do or do not talk ooc is not an indicator of my interest in you as a person or your muses, it's literally just my anxiety and has nothing to do with you. We're good, I promise.
I suck at plotting things to an extent. I'm better with general directions and ideas of where we want things to go, but leaving things flexible for our muses to do their thing. Some threads do work better with more detailed plotting, but for the most part I'm perfectly fine winging everything, so there's no pressure to have some perfect plotline already scripted out before you come plot with me. Literally just throw a vague idea at me or be like "hey I think x and y should interact" and we can go from there.
I am following you because I like you and your muse(s) and your presence on my dash. I don't follow people just for the sake of following, it makes my dash feel anxious and crowded, so if I'm following you, then yes I am interested in writing with you! You are not here to pad my follower count and I am not here to pad yours. And there is no time limit here, I won't unfollow just because we didn't interact in the first two weeks or whatever. Sometimes it is harder to come up with interactions between certain muses, but if you're a chill person the odds are I'll probably just keep following you anyway because I like reading what you write, too.
I love you <3 You belong here even if you don't feel like it sometimes. If you ever think "I wonder if anyone would actually care if I deleted and left" the answer is yes. Always yes. Take care of yourself. Drink your water, take your meds, and get some rest. Tumblr can get overwhelming so don't be afraid to take breaks when you need them, and remember that just because you decided to take a break it doesn't mean everyone suddenly stopped caring or forgot about you. You matter to the people around you a lot more than you think you do, don't let the general negativity and selfish behavior on this hellsite convince you otherwise. Write with your friends and do what makes you happy, no one is entitled to shit here and this community can only function if we learn to treat each other like people again and not writing machines.
#I just felt like I needed to say it okay now back to the chaos posting#⚡ ooc. ── ❝ 𝘖𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪. ❞
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So apparently I barely logged onto tumblr at all between January 29th and April 21st. And since I've been logging in for the last two weeks, it's been WILD.
I mean, let's start with the fact that notes feature is like... way different? Like, you can see everyone's tags? Or not? It's up to you? And you can sponsor posts now, which is just... weird? Like, don't we all know that's going to be used for people to promote their own fanfic? Which is like... fine if you want to, I guess? But man, old fandom would not have put up with that for a hot minute! (and hey, before anyone tells me to stop shaming people or that I'm too old to be here...shutup! I'm not shamming y'all if you do it, but I'm a fandom old and I'm allowed to comment on the weird changes in fandom cultural norms).
And then there's the fact that I have no idea what "our flag means death" is. What the hell? Where did it come from? Why is it everywhere? I've had to check profiles for like five tumblrs I follow to figure out who they are and why I followed them because all they post is apparently gay pirates now. And that's just... normal? I mean, yeah, it's tumblr, so gay pirates is pretty much normal. But the point stands!
And then there's the daily dracula thing, which is just a pure delight. 10/10, would recommend.
Anyway, what I'm saying here is, tumblr culture apparently changes every three months and if you leave for that long, you'll have to learn a whole new language when you get back.
Which is cool, actually. I kinda forgot how much I love this hellsite (affectionate).
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It’s Choices Fandom Shoutout day for @choicesfandomappreciation and I’m about to get into this ridiculous long-ass ramble that absolutely no one asked for.
When I found this fandom back in 2018, I spent most of my early days here as a lurker because I was too afraid to interact with anyone. I never had any intention of writing anything; the thought of it didn’t even cross my mind. I stumbled across Tumblr by total accident and found all of these amazing stories about these characters that I loved, and I just wanted to read. That was it. After about a month, I finally made an account and officially joined the fandom.
Not too long after that, I had a random idea pop up in my head, and for some godforsaken reason that I still can’t figure out, I decided to write it down. A few days later, after talking myself out of posting and then somehow managing to talk myself back into it, I bit the bullet and posted my first fic.
I had never written anything before that, and for me to post a story that I wrote was entirely out of my comfort zone and was a pretty huge deal for me. I have never been someone who does something where I intentionally set myself up, knowing there is a very good and more than likely chance that I will fail miserably; I tend to play it safe and stick to what I know. And social media on any platform can be a pretty intimidating and terrifying place when you open yourself up, especially to strangers, even by way of posting a measly little fanfic.
I didn’t tag anyone in that first fic because I didn’t talk to or know anyone at that point to tag, but I ended up getting a few “hey, tag me in your next fic” comments. And I was the epitome of this gif that day:
It’s been three years since I posted that first little drabble. In that time, like most people here, I’ve had my ups and downs on this hellsite. I’ve had good days and bad days, days where I feel content with what I’ve written, and days where I’m drowning in self-doubt. But in that time I’ve interacted with some incredible people. Every single like, comment, reblog, every keysmash, every message I’ve received saying something that I wrote made someone smile, laugh, or even cry, every ask I’ve received, every follower, they’ve all meant so much to me. Your kind words, fun interactions, and everything in between is what has made me want to continue to write and be a part of this crazy fandom. It’s a place where I get to escape everyday life because Choices and writing is my guilty pleasure and my dirty little secret that absolutely no one in my real life knows about. I have this little corner where I can come and vent/cry/scream/laugh/rage over pixels that no one would understand except you guys. I’ve talked to so many amazing people from all over, I’ve gotten to bring out this passion for writing that I never even knew I had while reading amazing stories by crazy talented individuals. And most importantly, I’ve made some of the most incredible friends.
Seriously, if you made it this far, bless.
So I just wanted to take this chance to say thank you for all of your support and encouragement because I know I don’t say or show it nearly enough. Honestly, some of y’all deserve goddamn medals for putting up with my shit 🥲
And as for the friendships I’ve made - I hope you know how much I adore each of you. Thank you for making me laugh and smile, for the help that you’ve given me, for brainstorming and prereading, for keysmashing, for listening, for simping over and simultaneously hating these ridiculous pixels, for being there through Tumblr life and real life, all of it. I love and appreciate you more than you know 💕
I’m tagging some people - but please, if I’ve forgotten anyone, I’m so, so sorry. This entire thing has been giving me anxiety all day and I gots the bubble gut because I do not want to leave anyone out 😰
@cocomaxley @emichelle @zaffrenotes @the-soot-sprite @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @txemrn @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @debramcg1106 @neotericthemis @kat-tia801 @sincerelyella @sweetest-marbear @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @foreverethereal123 @xpandabeardontcarex @sfb123 @queenrileyrose @princessleac1 @iplaydrake @cordonia-gothqueen @gkittylove99 @khoicesbyk and everyone else I’m forgetting because I cannot think straight.
@storyofmychoices I know we’ve not interacted much but I have to give a special shoutout to you. Your kindness in this fandom is unmatched and so needed. From your SpreadJoy campaign to helping to host events such as this from your @choicesfandomappreciation page, you are truly a remarkable person. Thank you for being a huge part of the reason this fandom stays alive and kicking and for putting so much time and effort into making sure others feel appreciated ♥️
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somehow, i’ve managed to gain 400 followers, so what better way to celebrate such a milestone than with a halloween-themed sleepover? also in this post is a small mutuals appreciation section, since i just felt like letting my lovely moots know how much i love them💕
this celebration will last from october 17th until midnight on october 31st! all you have to do is send one or more emojis into my inbox!
***CLOSED***
thank you to everyone who participated!🥰
🍬trick or treat- send this in to receive a blog compliment from me
���playing in the leaves- send this in for some song recommendations
🎃pumpkin patch- send this in and i’ll ship you with a character from either the harry potter universe or from the mcu (please specify fandom and gender preference!) and give a few fall activities you’d do together
💀spooky scary skeletons- a little bit of fun and games here, send this in for a cym, fmk, or kmk (please specify which one!)
👻the ghost with the most- send this in for me to recommend a few fall/halloween movies
🧙🏻♀️costume contest- send in which character you’d go to a halloween party with, and i’ll give you a couples costume
🔮astrology assessment- send this in along with your big three (sun, moon, and rising signs) for me to tell you the general vibe i get from you based on that
🧡happy halloween!- send this in if you just want to chat, rant, or vent
🖤spooky aesthetics- send this in for a halloween moodboard made by me for you (limited to five asks only)
tagging some lovely moots to spread the word: @cupids-crystals @velvetcloxds @onlyfreds @darthwheezely @jackys-stuff-blog @gcldensnitch @danceworshipper @melmalone @skarlettmikaelson @cursebreakerfarrier @slytherindisaster @thatravenpuffwitch
tagged below are a few moots that i’m very appreciative of, for the sake of not making this post too lengthy, i tried to not go overboard with my sentiments💕
@kc-needs-coffee kate, you are truly one of the most wonderful people i have ever had the pleasure of meeting on this godforsaken hellsite (pretty sure you were also one of my first few followers too, but i can’t remember for shit😂). every day i’m always so excited to hear about any new ideas you have or any new adventures you may have had, or even if you just jump into the chat to thirst over your celebrity crushes because it’s always so fun and i’m so glad that you’re a founding member of the wifey squad and one of my best friends💙
@nevilles-top carmi, you’re such a genuine and sweet soul that i can’t even find the words for it. another founding member of the wifey squad, and dare i say it, maybe the most powerful wifey of the wifey squad. you’ve had so many good things come your way, and i’m manifesting many more great things for you! keep your head up bby, the universe has great things in store for you, which i know that you’ll be 100% up to the challenge for and i’m so glad to call you one of my best friends💚
@lifeofkaze last but certainly not least, another wifey squad member, the lovely anni, truly the one who really holds the group together when the rest of us are going absolutely bat-shit insane. i haven’t known you for as long as i’ve known the other wifeys, but i’ve known you just long enough to know that that your ideas are always just absolutely brilliant, even if some of them are absolutely heart-wrenching (i’m sure you know what i’m talking about😂) and that you’re truly one of my best friends, and i’m so thankful to have met you💛
@cupids-crystals lydia, i’m grateful to have seen your wonderful little blog grow so quickly over the past few months, every follower you have is so deserved! even though we may not chat much, i consider you to be one of my true moots and i’m sending nothing but good vibes and happy thoughts your way in hopes that you get everything you want and deserve from life!💕
@danceworshipper zin, you chaotic little ball of somehow-always-tried-energy. you’re one of the ones who has been here since the beginning of my little blog, so you’ve quite literally seen it all happen here😂 even though i’m sure you want to smack me upside the head with a frying pan at times, you’re still one of my favorite mutuals and i’m so glad that you’ve been here since the start of my little hellhole of a blog💕
@velvetcloxds monique, one of my newer mutuals, but that doesn’t mean i don’t absolutely love seeing you on my dash! as a fellow chris evans simp, that instantly earned you bestie status with me. also, your current theme is just absolutely gorgeous! we haven’t really chatted much, but i’ve seen enough of your interactions with others to know that you’re genuinely very sweet and kind, and that you deserve all the good things from life!💕
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Reasons Why Post Plus is a Terrible Idea
Tumblr has recently unveiled their new "Post Plus" feature. It allows people to put a paywall around their blogs, allowing them to charge up to $9.99 a month, with Tumblr taking a 5% cut of the creator's earnings. In this post, I will explain why this is a horrible idea.
@staff: You better listen up. I took a few hours away from my day for this. I had to have my friend Ashley help me with this, and that took time from her day too. (Thank you @patalliumapples) I'm explaining everything under the cut because this is long.
1. We Don't Have the Money
First of all, Tumblr is a social media site. This means in countries like the US, people as young as 13 can sign up and have an account. Most teenagers do not have the money to keep up with their favorite blogs for the low, low price of $9.99!
Second of all, a lot of adults on the site already are having trouble paying their bills, and don't have any content they would be willing to charge people on. As explained in this post, people are already struggling. (They also explain how to support creators better, which I will go onto later.) They don't have the money to spend on this. I, as a teenager myself, don't have enough money to spend to unlock Tumblr blogs. I don't know if I even can, I don't have a credit card or anything, and I don't want debt before I'm out of high school. Oh, and that leads me right next into the next point.
2. You could fix other things
Tumblr is called a Hellsite for many reasons, and how it breaks a lot is one of them. One problem are the Ray-Bans sunglasses bots that hack the site every so often. I have gotten one, Ashley has gotten three.
You can also barely even search on this website. Searching for tags brings up the randomest things. You can barely even search your own blog, this is how bad it is. Fixing those issues before we give you our credit card number would be a great thing.
3. People don't want it
The consensus so far is NO. In some cases, "FUCK NO" This is valid, people don't want it. We can't pay for it, and we really don't need it. Everyone hates it.
And you bet that the Tumblr-famous will try this out.
I, as of writing this, have 416 followers. I bet all of them would leave me if I tried to do a paid post. (Not like I can, I'm a broke teenager, but still.) That would limit the market.
And other people have expressed they would leave anyone who put their posts behind a paywall, such as in this newly-viral post.
4. Monetization of fanfic
Alright. *Cracks fingers* I get to show off my knowledge of copyright law.
Fair use that covers fanfiction does not cover having to pay for it. Monetization of fanfiction is not legal, and if someone tries, the original content creator can issue a DMCA takedown order. The person who posted and monetized the fanfiction will be forced to take down their post, hurting their earnings. This will affect Tumblr.
Also, as we saw recently with a Loki T-shirt on Etsy, big corporations are known for taking down anything they consider infringement, even if it falls under fair use. There was a scare a while back on Ao3 (Archive of Our Own) that Disney would take down their fanfiction, but Ao3 had a legal time that can fight for them. Tumblr probably does not, and would probably lose a legal battle against Disney.
In fact, Ao3 does not allow any sort of links to other monetizable websites, like Pateron and Ko-fi, on their platform to avoid potential legal trouble. It's included in their terms of service, which you can read here. I would recommend it, and to check out some other links. They explain legal issues quite well.
And as satirized in this post, trying to find posts on Tumblr for a DMCA takedown is pretty damn hard.
5. You can get around paying for a post through the reblogs.
Despite the fact that is something you're technically not supposed to do, people can just copy and paste the content. The fact is if anyone has a Post Plus post, you bet the entirety of Tumblr is going to get around that. After all "you can share a teaser of +Post Content through the reblog function on the Services" (From the Tumblr TOS)
6. We've had mirror sites that could probably get around the paywall
In the past, we have had many mirror sites. They are the exact mirror of our Tumblr, tracking everything right down to our reblogs. Last I heard they were all shut down, though Tumbex sounded like it was going to come back. If these mirror sites are smart enough, they would be another way around the paywall.
7. You can't block people who are paying for your content
This is a problem. People can harass you, and sometimes, this Hellsite won't take them off. The block button is an important tool. I, for one, currently have 11 people blocked for various reasons. Some of them were messing with me in the reblogs of a post (it wasn't even their place to do so) and I didn't think Tumblr would count this as harassment.
If you can't block people, and even with the risk of it hurting your earnings, it's not good. Even remotely.
8. There are other ways to support creators that are much better.
As said in the very first reason, creators hate this Post Plus. They prefer being supported in other ways. People also don’t always want to be paid for the content (not even counting legal issues) And if they want to there are already platforms set up for them to use. For example, Pateron has tiers you can set up for membership, ranging up to $100. There, you know what you walked into. You’re not expecting free content, like on Tumblr, you’re building a relationship with the people in your community. Ko-fi lets people donate directly to their content creators, and won’t take any of their donations, unlike the 5% cut Tumblr is planning on taking. Both platforms also offer features that would not be available on Tumblr. Creators are also more likely to already have one of these set up, and keep Tumblr for their free content.
9. Tumblr could make money through better ads
Tumblr ads are famously . . . what’s the word? Ah, yes, “batshit” is the word I’m looking for. I’ve gotten ads for tattoo aftercare, signs of heart disease (the picture provided was someone with their nails painted blue), maps of the USA, celebrities that has passed away, lists of bad cities in my state, graphics of chickens with Hindi (note: I am American), and apparently now I should be worried if my dog licks their paws. (?) As I went to check my dash while writing this post, I saw a small air cooler that was apparently more powerful than A/C being advertised.
No one clicks on them except for a laugh, or if they accidentally thought it was something that was actually interesting. Most of the time, it is not. Tumblr could do something like Instagram and actually have good ads and make more money off of it. It may not be as much as they thought they were going to make, but it’s better than what they have now. (It’s a low bar.)
10. This is the same website that spearheaded DashCon
You remember DashCon, don’t you?
This seems to illustrate the website's stupidity in one picture and this is why you shouldn't trust us with money.
If you have any other reasons why this is bad reason, reblog the post with your reasons. I'd like to hear them, and don't forget to tag the staff.
There is a survey Tumblr wants you to fill out here, it's a step you can take. You can also listen to the protest @postplus-protest which should help. It starts August 6th, it's going to be a great time.
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All She Wants, Part One
Summary: As an Omega, Y/N’s biology dictates that she needs to be claimed and have pups. Despite seeing her through her heats for years, Dean – the Alpha Y/N wants to settle down with – refuses to give her what she needs.
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader
Rating: 18+ Only
Bingo Square: The quote: “Don’t try to alpha me. It won’t work.” for @j3bingo which is highlighted in bold.
Warnings: omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, heats, smut (well… technically, it’s smangst and could be perceived as tw: dub-con), p in v, dirty talk, breeding kink, claiming kink, knotting, angst, Dean is a bit of an asshole, fighting, canon level violence, arguments.
Word Count: 3.5k
A/N: Well, we get straight into the filth under the cut with this one! I hope you’re ready for some angst alpha Dean! Buckle up, buttercups, and enjoy the ride! Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy, or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖
My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi
“Fuck, Omega, you’re dripping all over my cock,” Dean growls as he slams into you again. This is the eighth fucking he’s given you in the past three days, and it’s sure to be over a dozen by the time his rut is over.
You and Dean have been doing this for years. Whenever he’s in a rut, you get him through it, and whenever you’re in heat, he’s repaid the favour. At first, it was easy; a means to an end. You knew each other, you trusted each other, there was an attraction between you, and it was less risky than disappearing off the face of the earth for five days with a stranger, especially when any alpha could claim you with or without your consent.
As time passed, you’d done what you promised never to do; you caught feelings. Once that happened, becoming emotionally bonded to Dean was no longer a choice, and in all ways but wearing his mark, you and the green-eyed hunter had mated.
“Such a sweet fucking pussy, baby girl. Can’t get enough of it,” Dean’s voice had deepened with his arousal, and you knew the alpha in him was slowly taking over.
You groan at his words. He’s always good with dirty talk and can turn you into a weak, whimpering mess with a single word.
“Mine.”
But it’s all talk. Dean has told you plenty of times that you could never be anything more. And the more years that passed, the harder that’s been to accept. Every month when your heat ended, you swore it was the last time. Your biology dictated your life, and if an alpha didn’t claim you and give you pups, you’d go feral and die.
Dean’s knot is beginning to swell; you can’t feel him as deep as he had been. He drapes himself over your sweat-slicked back to give himself better purchase to push and shove into you, desperate to get as deep as he’d been a few minutes ago. It’s a futile effort as he won’t get what he wants until his knot has slipped inside you, but being surrounded by him – his weight on top of you, breathing in his scent – is a euphoria you could never get enough of. It’s the reason you’ve always ended up under him.
“Alpha, please,” you beg pathetically. “Need your knot.”
“Yeah? You gonna be a good girl and take my knot, ‘mega?” Dean grunts in your ear, his knot beginning to catch at your entrance.
“Yes, Alpha!” You gasp as Dean’s hand wraps around your throat, pushing your head to the side and exposing your neck.
“Of course, you are, ‘mega. Always such a good girl for your Alpha,” Dean grunts, thrusting harder and harder, trying to force his knot inside your walls, but he can’t quite slip it into your tight, slightly tense channel.
“Gonna fill you up so good, baby girl. Knot you and fill you. You want that, huh? Want my come? My pups? Want me to ruin this pretty little neck with my mark?” he grunts, teasing your delicate skin with his teeth.
You moan, feeling another bout of slick leaking from you at his words. It’s all you want, and you choke back the tears at the regret you feel about ever starting this vicious cycle; at the cruelness of him using what you so desperately want to loosen you up enough to take what he wants.
And you hate yourself because it works.
“Yeah, I know you do, Omega. You just gotta let me in. Let me in, and I’ll fill you so good, baby. There’s no way you won’t come out of this pregnant.” You try to remind yourself that it’s only words, and you’re on birth control anyway, so it’ll never happen, but you can’t help but wish there was truth in them.
Dean lowers his head, and you shiver when his tongue licks over your mating gland and his teeth nip at your skin.
“Alpha!” You scream, finally reaching orgasm as his knot breeches you and locks your bodies together for the foreseeable future.
“That’s m’girl,” Dean growls as he grinds into you, the tip of his member kissing your cervix. He jerks his hips, shoving impossibly further inside you, and you whine at the pleasurable pain.
“No fucking pussy better than yours, ‘mega, and it’s all fucking mine,” Dean roars and you feel the heat of the first ropes of come hitting your quivering walls, sending you into a second orgasm.
Your elbows can no longer hold your weight, and you collapse onto the bed. You hate how Dean knows what buttons to push to get you to give him what he needs. You hate your body for falling for his words. And right now, as you experience a third orgasm that has you fighting between euphoria and disgust, you’re glad Dean hasn’t claimed you, and a chemical bond is non-existent, so he can’t feel the torment you’re currently going through.
You sigh as the waves of your climax roll away, and your body melts into the mattress. Behind you, Dean moans low and long as your relaxed body allows his knot to slip in deeper, and he empties everything he has into your womb.
Dean has never come so hard with you before, and you wonder if the claiming and breeding talk did it, or if it was because he’s never been so deep inside you before. Or if he, like you, is finding it harder to fight his instincts.
He carefully rolls you both onto your sides and wraps himself around you protectively, placing soft kisses across your back and shoulder. It’s the first sign that his rut is ending, and it doesn’t surprise you that it’s a day early, given how much of his come you can feel swirling in your belly.
The afterglow you’d been basking in is quickly overshadowed with dread because you know this is the last time this would happen. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Dean will never want more with you than what you have right now. He’ll never reciprocate your feelings for him, and you refuse to put yourself through it any longer.
“You okay, Y/N? Was I too rough?” Dean asks, pressing his lips to your spine, and you know for sure he’s out of his rut because he called you by name and not “Omega” or “Baby Girl”. And if using your name hadn’t given it away, then his concern for you would have.
“No,” you say quietly. You try to shift away from him, yelping from still being locked together tightly and stretched to almost unbearable pain. You want to cry, knowing you’ll likely remain that way for over an hour. At one time, that would’ve made you the happiest little omega on the planet, being tucked safely in your alpha’s arms, him locked in you so tightly, but right now, you just want to get away from him.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Dean soothes, running his hand up and down your side. “We’re gonna be here a while. It hasn’t been like that since my first rut, and I’m jammed in there pretty tight,” Dean chuckles. “Fuck, that felt good!”
You remain still and silent, not wanting to cause yourself any further pain, and grateful that if the tears you’re holding fall, you can blame it on the discomfort you feel.
“Uh, you know all that talk about claiming and pups was just that, right? Dirty talk?” Dean speaks, breaking the silence that had formed between you. “Because this life ain’t the place for weaknesses like mating bonds and pups.”
“I know.” It comes out in a whisper, but at least you didn’t burst into tears at the final nail in the coffin of your relationship with Dean.
“Good,” he states, pulling you further into his body and settling down to sleep.
Now all you need to do is wait until Dean’s knot deflates and he’s sleeping deeply. Then you can shower the stench of the alpha from your body and return to your room. Your space. Your haven. Your nest.
ONE MONTH LATER
The trouble with witches is that they’re more intelligent than most people give them credit for. And vindictive. They’re also the most vile monsters on the planet. Still, you can’t help but admire them. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud, but you can’t deny the genius of the one you’re hunting right now that’s had the three of you running around in five different states trying to catch her.
When your luck finally turns, and you find her hideout undetected—a hundred miles from the bunker, no less—the three of you get takeout and beer in the motel room, and form a plan to take the bitch down.
As the sun comes through the threadbare drapes, rousing you from the first restful night’s sleep you’ve had in weeks, you still feel tired and too hot. Trying to kick the duvet off your overheated body, you feel a solid block behind you and sigh. Sam and Dean had insisted you all share a room, knowing you’re all on the witch’s hit list and are safer in numbers until she’s dead, so you know it can only be Dean behind you.
Becoming more awake, you notice Dean nuzzling into your neck, his lips resting on your mating gland, and his calming, intoxicating scent surrounding you. This is the closest you’ve been to him since his rut a few weeks ago, making your stomach lurch.
Quietly slipping from the bed, you smile wistfully as the green-eyed alpha whines at your sudden absence. Dean has been looking at you strangely these past two weeks. You know that he knows you’re pulling away from him, but as always with the two of you, it’s gone unspoken. Dean never talks about his feelings, and the last time you did, well, let’s just say that’s when you knew you and Dean were a sinking ship.
Grabbing underwear, jeans, a vest top, and flannel from your duffel bag, you make your way into the bathroom, wanting for once to have a long, hot shower without it turning cold when soap suds are still in your hair because the boys have used it all up.
Fully dressed and towelling your hair, the first signs of this month’s heat make themselves known as your skin prickles and the twinges start in your lower belly. This will be the first heat you’ve endured without Dean in a long time, and you pray to Chuck or whoever the fuck is running things upstairs now, that you’re strong enough to handle it.
Taking two Tylenol for the impending cramps, and a suppressant to try to ease the other symptoms of heat, you brush the tangles from your wet hair and head over to the diner to get breakfast for yourself and the two alphas, the younger whose bed is now empty having gone out for his morning run, and the older who is still snoring, his nose buried into the pillow you’d slept on.
DEAN’S POV
Dean is pacing the motel room. Y/N’s scent is still strong in the air and tinged with the beginnings of her heat, a scent that always drives him fucking wild. Her damp towel hangs on the heated rail in the bathroom, so he knows she hasn’t been gone long, but he’s worried about her. Especially lately. And especially with a conniving witch bitch hellbent on vaporising them.
Y/N has been pulling away from him lately, and her sharp tongue has left him licking his wounds more than once. He’d been wracking his brain, going over their every interaction, trying to figure out what he’d done to piss her off. What hurt him the most was her obvious despair at having to share a bed with him last night.
He and Sam agreed the three of them would stay in one room until they’d killed the bitch. They were all on the witch’s radar, but if they stayed together, at least they had safety in numbers. When he gave the news to Y/N, she looked at him as if he’d kicked a puppy right in front of her, and that felt like a knife to his gut.
He’d even thought about saying she could sleep with Sam, but the very thought of that made him want to tear his younger brother’s throat out, so he had no choice but to grin and bear her cold shoulder and the cold bed.
Not able to make and take comfort in a nest for herself, Y/N had situated herself on the bed as far away from him as possible and contorted into the tiniest little ball she physically could, making it abundantly clear to him and Sam that she felt extremely vulnerable. Dean knew that hurt not only him but Sam too.
The sound of footsteps outside the room makes Dean grab the gun filled with witch-killing bullets from the dresser and point it at the door. He relaxes his stance and lowers the weapon when he recognises Sam’s shadow through the grimy motel room window.
“Have you seen Y/N?” Dean barks at his younger brother the second he walks through the door.
“Yeah, she’s sitting in the diner eating breakfast. I ran past her a couple of minutes ago,” Sam replied, stretching his calves and putting his earphones away.
“You talk to her?”
“No. I thought it best to give her some space. With the way things have been, and, you know, she’s on the verge of a heat and, uh, she hasn’t really been herself lately, and last night with the…” Sam sighed. “What happened between you two, Dean? Because that is not the happy Omega we know.”
“I wish I knew, Sammy. I really do, but I’m at a loss here.” Dean starts to pace again, in obvious distress and breathing deeply through flared nostrils.
“When was the last time things were okay between you?” Sam asked.
“My rut last month. But even then, the last time we, uh… you know… she was off.”
“Dean,” Sam’s jaw clenched, hoping he didn’t have to kick his brother’s ass for forcing himself on her.
“I knew she was distracted. Her head wasn’t in it, and I needed her so bad—” The dawning of realisation washed over the green-eyed alpha’s features, and he felt sick.
“What did you do, Dean?”
“I, uh, I fucked up. I had to get creative with some dirty talk to slick her up enough to get my knot in, and I… fuck!” Dean sits on the bed, places his head in his hands and pulls at his hair.
“Dean,” the younger alpha’s nostrils were also flaring now, but it was from anger as opposed to his brother’s distress.
“I played on what she wants. What she really wants, Sam. I’ve always been clear with her about what we have and never used any of what she… but that night, I told her I’d claim her and give her pups.” And just like that, everything makes perfect sense to Dean. Y/N is pushing him away because she desperately wants what he teased her with. “And then, as we lay there locked together, I told her it was just talk, and I could never give it to her.”
“Jesus, Dean! You’re telling me you used her by telling her you’d give her what she wanted, then you broke her heart by taking it all back, saying she could never have it so that you could knot her? That’s low, even for you!” Sam scoffs.
“I never said she couldn’t have it. I said I couldn’t give it to her. She’s leaving me, Sammy. It’s why she’s been pushing me away. Why she feels vulnerable around me now and wants her own space all the time.”
“Yeah, and you fucking deserve it!” Sam growls as he swings for Dean, clocking him in the jaw with an almighty crack. “She loves you, Dean! And you treat her like an omega whore you’ve paid to see you through a rut?” As the younger Winchester pulls his fist back and lands another punch, the door slams, making both men jump at the sudden movement.
“Enough!” Y/N’s voice verberates through the room. “What has gotten into you two?” The pack dynamic they’d forged for themselves had Y/N as the matriarch, and so her maternal tone had them shuffle their feet and look to the floor. “We have bigger problems to deal with right now, and you two fighting like a couple of juveniles will only give the witch the ammunition she needs to take us all down!”
“Sorry, Y/N,” both alphas mumble like a couple of scolded pups.
“I brought breakfast. Eat.” It’s an order that neither alpha dared disobey. They shuffle their way over to the small table, sitting down and eating silently while Y/N checks and rechecks their duffles for the witch hunt.
Y/N’S POV
Edging silently along the wall, gun in your hand, locked and loaded, you can hear a woman’s voice and Sam grunting, and realise you only have seconds to get this right. Taking a deep breath, you step into the room, and your eyes scan the surroundings.
Sam is against the wall, struggling against invisible restraints, and the witch speaks in Latin. Knowing that can only mean trouble, you raise the gun and take a second to get your aim right between the bitch’s eyes.
It’s a second too long, and she whips her hand to the right, your gun flying from your grip and landing across the room, as she continues her Latin chant as if you weren’t just trying to kill her.
You run at the first purple spark emitted from the witch’s palms, putting yourself between Sam and the witch without hesitation. You’d missed the first part of her curse, but you’d heard enough to know that the youngest Winchester could absolutely not be hit with it. You needed to get in front of it. You couldn’t let her ruin all three of your lives.
Closing your eyes, you wait for the curse to hit, but instead, a gunshot rings through the room, and everything goes silent. You don’t get hit by a gust of wind or an electric shock… just nothing.
Peeking an eye open, you see the witch lying on the ground, blood pouring beneath her and Dean glaring at you expectantly, his nostrils flared in anger. Not wanting to deal with him right now, you rush over to Sam, scanning over him and checking he’s okay.
“Sam! Are you hurt?” you ask as you crouch beside him and scan his body for visible injuries.
“No, just winded. I’ll be fine. Are you alright?” Sam touches your forearm to stop you from fussing about him.
“She’s a hell of a lot better than she coulda been!” Dean yells across the room. “What the fuck were you thinking, Y/N, huh? Throwing yourself in front of a witch like that, you coulda been killed!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Dean. I’m—” Dean cuts off your response, marching towards you with his index finger pointing at you.
“I swear, if you say ‘I’m fine,’ so help me!” Dean only stops when he’s toe-to-toe with you, and he puffs his chest and rears his shoulders back, trying to intimidate you. Trying to make you submit to him.
“I am fine, Dean. The curse mentioned a brother, so it wouldn’t have affected me anyway,” you argue back.
“It could’ve killed you for all we know!”
“Dean, you need to calm down,” you implore.
“And you, Omega,” Dean says, his voice low and full of alpha authority and his finger dangerously close to your face, “need to start following my orders and stop purposely disobeying me because of some stupid tantrum you’re throwing! Go wait in the car.”
You do the worst possible thing you could do right now and laugh, before turning and walking away from him. You won’t let anyone speak to you like that, and you definitely won’t let Dean, either.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?… Don’t you dare walk away from me, Omega!” You can smell his pheromones from where you are and know that not only is it in pure anger, but because he’s extra on edge having being able to smell your heat and is starting to get antsy.
“Don’t try to alpha me. It won’t work. You haven’t claimed me, Dean. I am not your omega. You made it very clear that I’m only good enough to be your rut bunny, and you know what? I’m done with that, so stay the hell away from me!”
“Y/N!”
Once again, you completely ignore him and keep walking. It’s hard because your body screams for him, but you won’t let him use you. Not anymore. Never again.
“Omega!” he roars again, and you walk out the door, slamming it behind you.
Screw waiting in the Impala. You’ll make your own way back, grab your bag, and go to another motel for the night. It was going to be a long enough car ride back to the bunker tomorrow, you needed some space—for everyone’s sake.
Next Part>>
Tag List: @k-slla @snackles87 @deans-baby-momma @hoboal87 @deanwanddamons @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @stixnstripesworld @twinkleinadiamondsky @kmc1989 @tristanrosspada-ackles @spnwoman @sandlee44 @negans-lucille-tblr @synmorite @roseblue373 @chriszgirl92 @impala67rollingthroughtown @perpetualabsurdity @giggles1026 @lacilou @stoneyggirl2 @leigh70 @foxyjwls007 @michecolegate @maliburenee @nancymcl @waters-2567 @kazsrm67 @jc-winchester @hobby27 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @candy-coated-misery0731 @deansbbyx @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @mrsjenniferwinchester @ladysparkles78 @ashbatz @jamerlynn @nelachu2423 @spnbaby-67 @acitygrownwillow @duncanhillscoffeecups @xxmizzhecatexx @freewastelandstrawberry
#j3bingo#omegaverse#a/b/o dynamics#alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x reader#a/b/o universe#a/b/o
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ding, dong, the witch is dead!
honestly, who didn’t see this coming? lol. but, anyway. i guess this is goodbye! i’ll ramble more below the cut, but just know that over the next couple of days, i’ll be exporting my blog so i can keep what i want, and then this will be the only post left here.
thank you to everyone who i’ve had the privilege of meeting, and those of you who have been so kind as to leave lovely notes on my works, and interact with me over our silly anime crushes. i really appreciate all the kindness i’ve been shown in the anime fandom. some of my best friends i’ve met through this stupid app, but overall, it’s just not a healthy space for me. i’m not blaming anyone else for what this has become, at the end of the day, i created a hell for myself. i’m just tired of trying to rebuild, rebrand, whatever. i’m just tired.
that being said, obviously not everything can always be so lovely. i don’t care about the discourse or the drama or the whatever, but i’m just hoping this post will bring me some closure, and maybe some for those i’ve hurt, whether accidentally or intentionally. if you click read more and you’re upset with what you see, well, idk what to tell you, friend.
i hate that tumblr can be so insignificant, and yet so all encompassing all at once. yes, it’s “just tumblr” and “it’s not that deep” because at the end of the day, it’s just an app. but, unfortunately, behind this app and these blogs are human beings. which means you create real bonds and real friendships, and real feelings get hurt.
i came back to tumblr during a really sad, dark time in my life. and that was honestly my first mistake. i latched on to whoever would pay attention to me, craving some sort of friendship that i never needed before because i always had someone in real life. but i had just moved away from my family, and was starting the process of what would end up being a notsogreat divorce. i felt alone, and was struggling a lot with my self worth, so instead of choosing to be kind, i chose to lash out. regardless of whether or not that was in private dm’s of those whom, at the time, i’d considered friends, it was still inconsiderate and childish of me. i thought i had to be some hateful version of myself in order to prove to other people that i wasn’t as sad about myself as i truly was. the words i said in private were rude, nasty, and just... not who i want to be? and, without going into immense detail, some of those things i wanted to move on from and no longer felt, were then used as weapons and spread around to others who i never intended to see what i’d said.
please, please, PLEASE — be careful what you say. you really never know who is watching, who is going to manipulate you, etc. what you say holds weight, and even if you don’t intend for it to hurt anyone, even if it’s just venting.. i dunno. just, be careful, okay? check yourself from time to time, friend. make sure that you’re not allowing the overall negativity of the world, of your own mind, of others, to affect you to the point that you don’t recognize yourself.
if you don’t know about my lovely little exposed blog, well, you’d probably be the last to know. at least, it feels that way. although in the beginning maybe it was justified? in some right? i’m not sure anymore, really, but regardless—it turned into some sort of stalking experience. at one point in time, i received 35+ messages telling me how horrible i was, telling me to off myself, telling me that my ex did the right thing by leaving me “on the curb”, etc. my full legal name was being released, with the intent to doxx me i’m assuming? i was being told i was “being watched”, which i fully believe was happening, with the consistency of the updates. people who claim to hate me, still followed me with the intent of watching my every move to “see if i’d changed”. i only have received updates through friends, because to be perfectly honest with you, seeing your worst mistakes splayed on the internet and turning you into some shounen villain is NOT the best thing for your mental health. that, and some of the “truths” were half-honesties twisted because i’d be a hypocrite to post private dm’s debunking these things when i was upset with the very same people for posting such things. i’ve addressed some things, such as the racism, so i won’t go into that again, but some of these other instances are stretches, to say the least.
the irony of the whole thing is not lost on me. the very same people who say i only do things for notes/recognition, are doing those very things. those who say i only care about tumblr, are proving that by running a blog dedicated to exposing some twenty three year old idiot on the internet. those who say i use my friends are the same ones who literally lied to my face so they could collect receipts behind my back and then leave me when it got convenient. those who say i talk to “insignificant” blogs to appear invested are the ones calling those blogs insignificant, i never once believed anyone i’ve interacted with was insignificant, contrary to popular belief. everything they focus on ends up being nothing but hypocrisy in the end.
that being said, obviously i truly hurt whoever all is behind this blog. intentionally, or otherwise. and i know that sometimes what you do/say isn’t meant to hurt anyone, however, you don’t get to control how what you’ve done effects others. all you can do is apologize. but, i know a few of them, because based on the “receipts” they’ve pulled together, the stories are too specific to be anything but those people i’m thinking of. i don’t enjoy blanket apologies, but i’m leaving this hellsite, so it’s all i’ve got left.
i’m sorry for giving you the fuel to your fire for this petty agenda, i’m sorry for creating the monster of myself that allowed you to string along this storyline for what seems to be the better part of a year. i’m sorry that i gave you material to fixate upon, rather than providing you with friendship and something better to focus on. i truly hope you can move on now that i’m gone from tumblr, and honestly i don’t plan on coming back, lol. i genuinely, truly, deeply feel sorry for you, and pray that you can turn this obsessive focus from me to something more productive, something healthier.
the angry part of me wants everyone to realize that the start of this, the matchups/refunds situation, was born from this stalkerish behavior. it has taken me months to put the pieces together, because i truly didn’t think someone who i’d called my friend once would ever string together such a lie, or rather an exaggerated, adulterated truth, but i guess it’s what happened, in the end.
there are a lot of, uh, conveniently timed “releases” of receipts even though they were months after the initial occurrence of the offense. i can’t go into each one, because, frankly, there are too many. i just hope that in the wake of all of these horrible exposes of things i’ve done, others are able to reflect on their actions. telling me one thing while currently speaking to another individual and telling them another, blatantly LYING, etc. are all things that i’ve been accused of, and yet they’ve also been done to me. doesn’t justify what i’ve done, nor am i seeking some sort of absolution, however i just hope that these individuals can see their hypocrisy and move forward.
which leads me to my final point — regardless of how shitty someone is, disallowing them the room to grow, stunting their moral/mental growth, is truly the issue. i am not going to sit here and play holier than thou. i know i fucked up. i was a nasty bitch because i was angry at the world, and then that anger was fueled further by consistent situations where i made the wrong friends at the wrong times in my life. but the fact that this exposed nonsense has been dragging on since... july? august? i’m not really sure, but whatever. since it’s been going on, i have been battling with myself and my ability to do the things i love, talk to those i care about, etc. all because i’m afraid of saying the wrong thing, hurting the wrong person, etc. and in trying to avoid it, i’ve been doing the very same thing i hoped to keep from doing.
i never felt like i could apologize to those i wanted to apologize to because it might be received as disingenuous due to the nature of the exposed blog’s very existence “forcing” me to apologize. don’t get me wrong, some of those who the blog tried to coerce me into apologizing to can suck a dick, because there are people that i truly do not feel deserve my apologies, and therefore, will never get them. but, i do feel bad for those i didn’t get the chance to apologize to that i really wanted to. the last thing i’d want is for my apology to be turned into something it’s not, but hopefully everyone who has been affected by my actions can move on with my absence.
and to those of you who feel the need to make public denounces of my name, i hope it provides you the closure you’ve been seeking. truly, i do. but know that i never did anything i’ve ever done with the intent to get ahead or buy someone’s friendship or take advantage of anyone else. if i truly only cared about the things people say i cared about, i would have never made this blog in the first place. i would have leeched off the popularity of my main blog if popularity was all i cared about. i was searching for a home, which, in the end, i burned down myself. me, joking around about follower count and notes, was literally nothing but sarcastic banter that’s been taken out of context. but, i digress.
i am very thankful for those who i can still call my friends, who are willing and ready to have honest discussions with me about the things i’ve said/done and analyze them and help me move forward. therapy, medication, life choices, etc. all have been rolled into me deciding that i’m done letting a silly little app stunt my growth. if the internet was unplugged tomorrow, i know who i’d have and what would matter. i have REAL LIFE to focus on. i am in love and i have beautiful friendships that i want to foster with honesty and kindness. i can only hope that you all have the opportunity to have those very same things.
will i stop writing? nah, dude. no way. i’m just getting started. in my absence, in choosing to stay away from a place that makes me sick to my stomach with anxiety, i’ve delved into my original characters and i’ve written thousands of words that i haven’t felt the pressure to post about. i’ve learned that just because i’m doing something i love, i don’t have to do it for anyone else.
the internet is a funky place, folks. just be careful who your friends are, okay?
anyway. peace out, girl scouts. i wish you all the best 💖
#morgan.txt#tw mental health#tw suicide mention#tw discourse#tw drama#THAT’S ALL FOLKS! signing off xx
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Fic Writer Review
Ok, I could’ve sworn I was tagged by @aleksandrachaev but now the notification has disappeared? Idk what the hellsite is up to by making me think I have notifications, but I’m going to do this anyway 😂 😂 . I haven’t looked too closely at my stats and everything in a while, so this will be fun!
1. how many works do you have on AO3?
77. But please don’t ask about the number of WIPs I have 😅
2. what’s your total AO3 word count?
208,442. Huh. I thought it would be more? Oh well!
3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
Three. One random one shot for each ER and T100. The rest are all AoS!
Actually, wait. Since Kat says (and I agree whole heartedly!) that Black Widow is it’s own fandom, then make that 4! I wrote a one shot of an alternate end credit scene for that movie!
4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? (I’m not including the ones I have cowritten)
Everything’s Changing 372 Kudos- Talk about a wild idea I had watching a movie from the 90s. Anywayyyy. Philinda and Philindaisy moments. Lots of fluff. (which if you know me, you know I do more angst these days. 😂)
We’ve Come a Long Way from Where We Began 265 kudos - Aww! The first thing I ever wrote! Lots of May and Daisy moments and they work t reunite their team. (But also I now refuse to read this because I can see how much my writing has improved since then, and now I get mad at previous me 😂)
A Bad *Axe* Birthday 177 Kudos- May gives Daisy an axe for her birthday, and teaches her to throw it. Because to quote Rosa Diaz from B99 “What kind of woman doesn’t have an axe?”
I Took You for Granted 150 Kudos- TBH, I’m surprised this one was this high? It’s not one of the better things I’ve written tbh. But it’s May and Daisy, in season 7, and God knows they needed more scenes together, so maybe that’s why this one is on the list.
What Did We Do To Deserve This 137 Kudos- Oooooooh. *sigh* Early season 5 Philinda feels for when I still had hope for my OTP.
5. do you respond to comments, why or why not?
Ummmm YES! You kind person took the time to leave me a comment! I will let you know my appreciation for that! No comment is too big or too small! You can literally comment a <3 and I will respond because you made my day! That said, I usually respond like once a month to all the comments that have been building up in my inbox
6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
*cackles* Ummmm. I have several, but I think the angstiest would be The Unimaginable. Poor May just lost everyone in this fic.
OR! the pieces of my heart are missing you because I just kill all of my favorites.
OR! the moon and the stars are nothing without you because Philindaaaa feeeeels
I’m Lost Without Her and Stay Alive, That Would Be Enough are runners up!
7. do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?
Nope. Not creative enough for that 😂 😂
8. have you ever received hate on a fic?
I don’t think so? Only hate for making people feel too many feels 😂 😂 😂
But to the person who once commented “Bestie I hate to break it to you but this ^ is not therapy” on one of my angst fics, please know that even though I don’t know who you are, I love you and think about this comment everyday.
9. do you write smut? if so what kind?
Yes, but not lately. And it usually has feelings involved. No plots usually, but feelings yes.
10. have you ever had a fic stolen?
I doubt I am even known enough for someone to bother 😂
11. have you ever had a fic translated?
No, but that would be awesome!
12. have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yeah! Lean On Me with @shadowcass! Set during season 7 of AoS- Instead of MaYo going to Afterlife, it’s May & Daisy!
13. what’s your all time favorite ship?
Philindaaaaaaa. I have way too many feels about those two.
14. what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
Anything that’s in my old laptop. I got a new computer about 6 months ago, and any of my WIPs that somehow didn’t transfer over will probably never be finished. 😔
15. what are your writing strengths?
Angst! Also fluff (if I’m in the right mood). Sometimes humor! (again, depends on the mood.)
16. what are your writing weaknesses?
Feels I think? Sometimes I just write and then I go back to read it later and the dialogue in the feels particularly cringey. Also, I have a habit of using my southern slang in random places if I’m writing while tired, so I try to double check that. 😂
17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
Personally, I’ve only done it a couple of times, and for very short sentences or phrases because I don’t want to accidentally say something wrong and make a mess of things! I sadly only speak English with a few words of Spanish and Italian thrown in for funsies. Still waiting on a fic where I can randomly throw in a word or two in Italian.
18. what was the first fandom you wrote for?
Agents of Shield I believe! Unless you count the poorly written story I practically copied from an episode of Desperate Housewives that I was probably way too young to be watching. I wrote with gel pen on some loose leaf paper and then put into a pronged folder. I was maybe... 12? Mayyyyybe 13?
19. what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
It’s like choosing my favorite child! (Not that I have children, but I do have 4 pets and I can easily tell you who my favorite pet is. 😂)
Hands down, I think my favorite has to be It’s Only a Matter of Time. I wrote a spec fic before the AoS finale where the team splits up across time, and I sobbed so hard while writing it!
Also I really really like The Unimaginable listed above with the angsty ending!
I’m tagging @tessathetesla @samanthaswishes @herosofmarvelanddc @brutashaphilindaandsylkieohmy if you guys want to do this!
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Time After Time 2/2
TWO
Note: the characters demanded smut. There is a link to the NSFW version on ao3 at that point. tumblr won’t let me load the moodboard. I’m very frustrated with this hellsite.
Women aren't doctors at the Front, Miss... what did you say your name was again? Ah, Miss Valentine. American. That explains it... But we do need good quality nurses... You'll be sent to France right away on account of your prior training... Jolly good, just sign the dotted line...
"I assume you'll have the watered wine, Rookie." Ramsay leans across the table, lightly tugging the menu from Helena's numb fingers. Every little boom makes her shiver, though she's adopted the English habit of keeping a stiff upper lip. Her grandmother has told her stories to curdle your guts, about standing on a hill at Gettysburg and watching her lover ride hell for leather into battle. And I followed him, didn't I, chick?
"What brought you here? To the Front?" Helena cocks her head at him, and Ramsay's brows raise nearly to his hairline.
"You're bold as brass.” Ramsay snaps his fingers. “I like that. Knew it as soon as you stepped out of that line of nurses that you wouldn't turn into a shrinking violet at your first amputation." Ramsay turns to their waiter, a Frenchman of elderly years with an ear trumpet. "We'll take your best watered wine for the lady, and a bottle of whiskey."
Helena coughs lightly, and addresses the waiter in seamless French. "(What is the special today?)"
The old man looks sad. "(I am afraid we do not have anything special. Just some eel ragout, and fresh bread my wife baked this morning.)"
"(Then we will take that, and your best bottle of Merlot.)"
When the owner has gone, Ramsay smiles broadly at Helena, showing white teeth against three days shadow of a beard on his jaw. "By God, you're a marvel. Never learned much French myself, besides what I've had to behind the lines."
"Oh, my governess despaired of me." Helena shrugs, but cannot help smiling in return. "I can speak enough French to get by, you know, but I could never pass for a natural."
"Well, you are an American." But it does not sound like an insult.
The eel comes, and she eats ravenously, less like a lady and more like the girl who downed seven glasses of champagne and then raced her brother from Boston to Concord on horseback.
And Ramsay drinks. Thoughtfully. Mindfully. She does not remember, afterward, nor for many years, what they said, only how she had smiled and smiled until her cheeks hurt, and the ticking of the pocket watch.
One two, one two. Tick tock. Eleven hours. Ten hours. Nine hours. Eleven minutes and eleven seconds.
No more standing to in trenches,//Only one more church parade.
"I had a patron who paid for me to go to medical school, a well respected chap named Naveen.” Ramsay nurses his whiskey, rolling the glass with purpose between his palms. “After school, I joined the army to make something of myself, and went to India. My wife deserted me for another man while I was gone. She didn't like the army life, you see."
Helena reaches out, laying her hand over his. Ramsay startles, but does not move his hand away, and instead flips it over, laying his palm flat against hers and caressing her wrist with his rough fingers. She drags in a breath, the sudden widening of his pupils making her lower abdomen flutter. "I ran away from home. No one knows I'm here, or I'd be dragged back to Boston to marry a Stirling and pop out an heir and a spare before the war has even gotten started."
"You don't even want to know about what this war will look like if it keeps going, lass." Ramsay drains his glass, and pours them both another. "I'd tell you to go back to Boston, but I can see by that look in your eye that you'll see this thing through. I respect that."
Helena does not trust herself to speak. The wine is making her thoughts slow, but she does not want this moment to end.
Ramsay rubs a hand over his jaw. "That was back in '09. I hung my boots up, moved to Scotland, and threw myself into practice in Edinburgh. Then that damn fool shot a Prince, and well, here we are."
Steady, silent. Their eyes meet and the watch ticks on. Helena feels as though she is drowning. His mouth moves and she only feels the heat of his palm against hers, her cheeks ablaze.
'Nurse! Nurse Valentine! Are you dumb or are you just deaf?! Hand me those scissors, and bring me another scalpel... These damned orderlies don't know what they're doing...'
Their eyes meet across the bloody operating table. The soldier is mercilessly unconscious, a bloody piece of shrapnel in his thigh. He'd been screaming since he came in off the ambulance, a boy of no more than nineteen, a Tommy named Elijah... 'Mum, Mum, water, water...'
'That's a Blighty, Rookie. Your first. Are you going to faint on me, lass?' Ramsay's eyes lock on Helena's. She feels the flint of his gaze go straight to her spine, and straightens up.
'No, Doctor. I'll be fine, sir.'
'I told you Americans have brass, Ramsay!' The surgeon, Lahela, winks at Helena in passing, but she does not notice. Her gaze does not falter under Ramsay's. 'Pass me the tweezers.'
His mouth quirks, just a shade. 'Good girl.'
"...Good God, Rookie, will you drink the whole bottle? I promise my company isn't as bad as all that." Helena feels Ramsay tug at her wine glass, and relinquishes it. The lamp has begun to burn low, and from the outside of the cafe is the sound of drunken laughter. "You shouldn't walk out there alone. Come on, I'll walk you back to your billet."
"I don't have one," Helena confesses. She pats her bag, shamefaced. "I spent my money for the hotel on books... I can sleep on the truck."
Ramsay shakes his head. "No, no, that won't do. We can't have you more dead on your feet than usual. I have a solution. It's a bit unorthodox. Do you trust me?"
Eight hours, three minutes, seven seconds.
•••
Helena does not know why, but the lights from the star shells, all green and gold, make her grip Ramsay's arm tighter, and press against his side. At the corner, he stops and gazes down at her, a strange and wild new thing in his face, something she dares not name.
Don't forget me, Helena Valentine. When this lousy war is over, I'll come back, you see...
"Tell me..." Ramsay brushes a curl back from her brow, his broad fingertips sending a crackle across her bare flesh. "Why did you become a doctor, Rookie -- Helena?"
"I read a wonderful book." Helena ducks her head, and looks up at Ramsay from under her lashes, illuminated by the lamplight. Behind them, to the east, she hears the screech of a Minnie, and his hands tighten on her fingers. "It was written by a Scottish doctor who had served in India, on the Northwest Frontier." Her gaze skitters away.
People said when we enlisted,//Fame and medals we would win.
"Ah. I knew a chap who served there, in his younger days." Ramsay tucks her cold hand through his elbow. The snow is falling thicker now, and they are nearly to the hotel. A quick word from Ramsay to the proprietor -- she hears the words une chambre pour les jeunes mariés -- He knows French after all --
And before she knows it, she is sitting in a delectably steaming hot hip bath, strewn with lavender and rosemary. She washes her hair and cannot remember the last time she felt such luxury.
Nine months, two days, thirteen minutes...
When this war is over, //No more soldiering for me.
"You can have the bed. I'll bunk down with Medical Officers Gayle and Nguyen, from the -nth Platoon." Ramsay stands in the doorway, his cap in his hands, avoiding looking directly at Helena in her muslin shift. "We wouldn't want you to lose your reputation and have to leave the war so soon."
"Stay." She feels her eyelids drooping, and pats the quilt next to her. "Please, stay."
"You know I can't do that." Yet, she hears the floorboards squeak as Ramsay settles next to her on a chair. The inn rattles like a whizzbang and she grasps Ramsay's hand, clutching at it until the clattering of the teacups subsides. "Only a little longer, then, Rookie. Until you're safe."
•••
Ethan watches Helena Valentine fall asleep. There is nothing he'd like more than to climb next to her in that big bed, to feel her lithe body against his. But it would be wrong, even though nothing will ever be right again after the war is over. But if he can keep her safe -- If I can keep her alive -- he dares not finish the thought.
“You wouldn't remember me, Helena Valentine, but I was the guest speaker of honor when they hung the plaque for your grandfather at the Royal Hospital, in Edinburgh.” Ethan whispers the words, barely a murmur. The whiskey has given him courage, here in a small hotel near the Ypres front.
Ypres, the Race to the Sea. Generals called it a triumph, but the only thing the war has given Ethan thus far has been insomnia for thirty-six hours, a hatred of mustard gas and a pair of fine German boots from over the top.
“He was an old surgeon, a medical man, who fought in the American Civil War, but he did great things for Scottish medicine, too, back in his youth.” Helena's fingertips tighten on his palm, and Ethan fears he has said too much. But he goes on, like a schoolboy at the confessional, for who can say when they shall ever have this moment again? And hasn't the war taught him by now to leave nothing unsaid?
“You must have been not more than twenty-one, then. You were still unmarried, with a vast inheritance that folks said you'd squandered on medical school. I knew right then and there that Jonas Valentine would have been proud of you. I wanted to introduce myself right there and then…”
But I was too tongue tied by your beauty, and couldn't find the words. Later, when I saw you again in Ypres, I couldn't believe my own eyes. I didn't want to tell you how I felt then...
(But that will keep, until this war is over.)
Her grip loosens, and he knows she is sleeping. She sighs in her slumber when his lips brush across her dainty brow, and it is with everything inside of him screaming at him to turn around that he walks away.
When I get my civvy clothes on,/Oh how happy I shall be.
•••
Forty-five minutes, thirty seconds.
The books are too heavy. Yet, Helena, an oasis of blue with a red cross on one arm in a sea of green uniforms, settles in with Sherlock Holmes. Rookie... She snaps the book shut, watching the landscape go by from the army van.
I shouldn't... We shouldn't. Ramsay cups both sides of Helena's face in his hands. The book drops to the floor. They are both damp from the bath, and his skin smells of cedar and lavender soap.
copy and paste into your tab: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29957496/chapters/73743633
Later, she will remember the exact way the quilt felt as he pulled it over her shoulders, tucking her in, embers in the grate and his lips ghosting across her forehead.
•••
Twenty years on, when a new war is brewing, this is what Helena Valentine remembers:
The air, so still and warm, with not a single lark singing. The earth smells of flowers and death, and she is sharing sterilizing duty with VAD Nurse Varma, whom she'd come over from London with.
"I suppose you think you're better than me, being a real doctor and all, but..." Jackie's lips move, but Helena cannot hear what she is saying. All she can hear is a buzzing sound, a ringing in her head.
One two, one two.
Her hands tremble with fatigue over the medical instruments.
Thirteen minutes and forty-seven seconds.
Tick, tock.
The table begins to shake and she looks at Jackie, their eyes wide as they clasp hands -- and then they are running -- and the bridge is shaking, it's shaking Dr Ramsay, you shouldn't be out here, it's wartime you know --
No one can know about this, about us. You know that, right?
I know, Dr Ramsay.
He cups her chin in his hand. They say you're a grasping American chit, but you're my American chit now, and I won't hear anything against you. Oh -- and don't check your bag until you're on the truck back to the lines. I left something there for you.
Then you have this -- keep it until the war is over -- it was my grandfather's and it's over a hundred years old and it's still ticking on.
His mouth is warm on hers, tip of his tongue pressed against hers for a surprisingly electric surge.
-- "Nurse Valentine! Valentine!" --
Helena wakes in the morning with the ashes cold in the grate, Ramsay's greatcoat draped over her. It smells of peat and whiskey, and the faintest whiff of mustard gas. Her thighs are wet and she looks under the quilts and realizes her cycle has started, and she does not know why, but she begins to sob, whether from relief or terror she knows not.
One two, one two.
(Twelve hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty four seconds.)
Tick, tock.
People said when we enlisted,/Fame and medals we would win,/But the fame is in the guardroom,/And those medals made of tin.
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me two weeks ago: god these headcanons are burning a hole in my brain and there’s no way i can work them all into these fic ideas. i’ll just start up a blog to get them down and -
me now:
... fuck
okay, so with this blog blowing up way out of what i expected its proportions to be, i guess it’s time to introduce myself or something
hi! i’m mitzi, 25, they/them pronouns. i had a pretty active tumblr from early 2014 to mid 2018, when a growing sense of general malaise and a series of increasingly bullshit tumblr updates combined to drive me to give up on my main. i still refuse to redownload the app. i was still intermittently active until the great adult content ban, at which point i left this hellsite for good
fast forward to last autumn, when in the middle of trying and failing to do distance learning i abruptly remembered the silm exists and spent a literal month reading all the fic i missed since i was last in the fandom. over the course of that reading, i naturally began to both remember my old takes and develop some new ones. as it became increasingly obvious that online uni just wasn’t working out for me, i found myself having way too much time to think about terrible headcanons about terrible elves
trouble is, i no longer had a place to put them. twitter just isn’t as conducive to my trademark long rambling meta/fic hybrid posts, and those tend to be a bit slapdash for ao3? i really wanted to interact with the community, so i started planning my own fics, but those take a while to make if you’re me and are incapable of having less than three active projects running at once. for a while i was gonna check out whatever community there is on pillowfort, but then that stopped being an option
then! two-ish weeks ago, in a fit of sleep-deprived ennui, i did what i swore i would never do and made a new tumblr account. i started posting a headcanon a day, just to get them out of my head, but it turns out people like them??? a lot??? and i’m following people, and i’m liking posts on tumblrs i’ve been flicking through since i got back into the fandom, and i’m reblogging stuff, and i’m reluctantly ignoring stuff that doesn’t fit my theme, and oh god i have a tumblr again
so yeah. i’m retrofitting this blog from a strict headcanon dumping ground to a more general fandomblr. i’ll keep posting my headcanons - i’ve still got a ton left, y’all don’t even know about the mobster au yet - but this blog will be less focused around them. will reblog art and fic and stuff. no politics, not because i don’t care but because the world is terrifying and fandom is where i go to not have to think about it. this blog will stay focused on the silm and other tolkien stuff, but i do have other projects and interests, ranging from old-ass speculative fiction to twitch plays pokémon (yes, seriously.) if you want to find me somewhere else, i have a more general twitter, a still-under-construction old jrpg blog, and an ao3 account. don’t have any silm fic on there yet, but i am writing some
anyway, yeah! nice to meet you. gonna update some tags and change my url. i’ll leave you with a snippet from behind the scenes here at dumbfeanorianheadcanons (name change pending)
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thank you for 200<3
im still pretty bewildered that i’ve only been on this hellsite for like three months, and I’ve already reached a milestone?? Like people actually read my work? They like my stories? that thought in itself is so gratifying.
I’m really bad at this, so I just wanted to say thank you! I appreciate every single one of you, and I promise I’ll keep like giving you guys stories.
On another note, what the fuck should i do for 200?
I’m going to leave that up to you! tell me what you would like me to do for 200 followers, any suggestions, and I’ll pick one that I think i can do
Thank You!
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