Tumgik
#and it was so weird like they've got every right to be wary and question the ic
astrababyy · 2 years
Text
The humans in ACOTAR are literally just props. The story doesn’t actually care about them or what happens to them. The characters contradict themselves in the way they behave towards them. Hell, the author herself barely gives them a second thought.
During the endeavor to save the Mortal Realm through book 2-3, the Mortal Queens were consulted and their help was requested. The High Lords were consulted and their help was requested. But when it came to the actual helping part, I swear, the humans in the south of Prythian didn’t even know any of this was happening. While the Inner Circle plotted and planned out their fates like they’re pieces on a chess board, none of them even knew any of this was happening. That doesn’t seem a little screwed up to anybody?
108 notes · View notes
danpuff-ao3 · 1 year
Text
The Making of: Spaghetti
No, this is not a spaghetti recipe. Truth be told I'm an atrocious cook. On a good day I can scramble some eggs. Baking is where I shine.
So, no...this isn't about food. This is about Spaghetti: the story.
It's not very long. Only 1,663 words. But for me they're an important 1,663 words.
First: the concept. "Harry's friends don't approve of Snarry." It's an idea I'd long wanted to portray.
Snarry can be a bit of a controversial ship in the real world. I imagine it'd be even more so in the Wizarding World. Even to Harry's friends. The controversial nature of it is one of the many things that draw me in! And I see so few stories exploring that very specific issue.
Harry's friends love him. They trust him, mostly. They want to support him. But they won't necessarily agree with everything he does. And if they think he's in trouble...if they think he's being manipulated, or used; if they think he's being reckless, and foolish...they're going to tell him. They're not going to smile placidly and pretend everything is okay.
They know Harry. And they know Snape. Of course they're going to have a reaction.
Relatedly: friendship dynamics. Taking a step back, not just focusing on the Snarry of it all, friendship is as ripe for drama and misunderstandings as romances. People are not bad friends for having their own minds, and not reacting the way we want them to. And even if your friends are in the wrong, that doesn't mean they acted out of malice.
Human relationships are complicated and difficult and weird.
I needed to explore that. Both the friendship hiccups and the Snarry reaction.
Harry knows people are going to have Opinions about his relationship with Snape. He is aware that between his fame, Severus' infamy, and their antagonist history, there are going to be a lot of questions raised. That's why (here) they've kept the relationship secret for so long. To protect it. To put off the inevitable and enjoy their time together.
Telling his friends is the first step. And he knows it isn't going to go well. But that doesn't stop him hoping. That doesn't mean he wants to deal with the questions, the doubts, the judgment.
Importantly, Harry's friends love him. They truly do. And they don't know any better. They have their own views of Snape, their own memories of him. Of course they're shocked.
I like to believe they'll come around one day. It might not be right away. It won't be an easy transition for anyone involved. But out of love for Harry...I like to think they'll keep a wary eye on matters until they see for themselves how real it is.
I like to think that. But I didn't really resolve matters here, did I?
The first draft for this story began during NaNoWriMo 2020. I still have the original in my 2020 NaNoWriMo Scrivener file. I jumped around to various projects that year. Some saw the light of day soon after. Right Now (One Day) I wrote and posted same day. Romantic Notions I spruced up in time for December. The whole Christmas in Hogsmeade series was written and posted that year.
But for Spaghetti...I poked and prodded. I'd leave it to work in another fic, then return to poke and prod some more. I couldn't quite make it work. (fun fact: Neville and Luna featured in the original, and it took place in a pub, rather than Hermione and Ginny's flat.)
It wasn't until June 2021 that I took the essence of what I had and breathed new life into it.
Because...
Second: real life friend issues.
You may or may not know that I escaped a pretty toxic and painful fandom space in 2021. In June of that year I was neck deep in it. I had no idea, at the time, that it could possibly get worse. (Spoiler alert: it got much worse.)
At that time, I felt...lonely. Achingly lonely. The sort of awful loneliness you only feel surrounded by other people. I was overburdened; swallowing down my own pain, and accepting the judgment of others. I cried nearly every day. I was having frequent panic attacks. I was legitimately terrified of interacting with my so-called friends.
It was...a very bad time, to put it mildly.
Just keep trying, I told myself. Keep working on it. Stay strong.
They’re your friends, they love you.
I told myself over and over. That we were friends. That they cared. But so much despair was pent up inside, with nowhere to put it. My friends were too caught up in their own correctness to listen to my hurt, or my perspective.
Maybe they’d understand, if they listened. But they aren’t listening. They’re telling him things he already knows.
Talking, and trying, didn't do me any good. However hard I tried, they were determined to misunderstand me, to twist my words; resolute in their beliefs, unwilling to be swayed.
I was so, so desperate to be heard.
There was no one for me to talk to. There was nowhere safe to turn. When one is buddies with a BNF there is no where to turn. When there is an imbalance of power, you're sort of screwed. I couldn't talk to just anyone about the issues at play. No one could understand without all of the details. And when it came to our mutual friends, well...
Let's just say...no one was listening.
I typed out several messages I would never send. I have a long history of trauma associated with talking. It's hard to talk to people when your words have always been weaponized against you. And though I tried to push past that trauma for said friends, well...The same tactics my abuser used against me were employed by them. I was legitimately terrified. And in my dealings with them, old wounds were ripped open.
The mantra of "They’re your friends, they love you..." replayed in my mind over and over. And eventually I scrapped my messages and began a story.
It wasn't my story, exactly. It wasn't a play by play of the issues I'd been having. But it was my story, in some ways. The fear of opening up to people you should trust, because you know -- you know -- it isn't going to go well. And hoping against hope that you're wrong. It's the bitterness of opening up and being shut down. The irritation of trying to get a word in edgewise when people have already made up their minds. It's the temporary disgust and hatred of people you love. It's feeling so betrayed, and feeling ridiculous.
The story was always meant to be open ended, but the original version was meant to end on a more hopeful note. The original was an outsider's POV, not Harry's. And by the end, at least one of the outsiders would feel guilty for how it all plays out.
In the state I was in, I didn't have the heart to give it that much resolution.
That same mantra opens and closes the story.
In my case...I'm not so sure it was true. For months after, my own situation worsened. And never, not once, did they really hear me out. The pain I felt in June was nowhere near the agony I felt by November, when I finally cut my losses and fled.
In Harry's case...I have more hope for Ron and Ginny and Hermione. I know they mean well and want what's best for Harry. And I really, truly believe they can get there one day.
This Making Of is, perhaps, a bit too personal. But this story itself is a deeply personal one. For all of the stories I've written that have reflected my own thoughts and feelings, that have acted as therapy for pain I've been dealt, I had never, until then, written a story so intimately associated with current issues. And I haven't since. Writing is a way of revisiting old wounds. It is a way of looking back, and working through, matters that have left a scar. Rarely do I dare delve into an open wound.
Spaghetti might not look like much, but it's a very special case. Part nostalgia; for an old idea, an ongoing desire finally put into words. And part diary; a very real reflection of what I was dealing with at the time it was written.
7 notes · View notes
sofreddie · 3 years
Text
Stashed Away
Tumblr media
Summary: With their biological clocks ticking, the brothers set out to find their True Mates, before it's too late.
Characters: Alpha!Dean x OC!Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Unnamed!Omega
Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mating, Marking, True Mates, Institutionalized Reader, Heavily Medicated Reader, Implied/Mentioned Sterilization
Word Count: 2,876
A/N: For @spnabobingo 2021 - Free Space. This is my first square on my first ever bingo card. Let me know what you think!
Tumblr media
Sam and Dean - Winchesters, Alpha hunters - for years they dedicated themselves to the life. But now that they're getting older, and still without mates, they're starting to go feral. Ruts happen more often, are stronger, and last longer. If they don't find mates soon, they will go feral, hurt a bunch of people, and die. So they do a spell, with Cas's suggestion, to find their true mates. They've always acted like they didn't want it, weren't interested, but there's no pretending anymore.
Following the tracking that the spell gave them - they track down Sam's True Mate first. Dean's more worried about getting Sam right than himself at the moment. The tracking leads them to a small town - a case is here, they quickly learn, vamps - by the time they figure out what's going on, they head to the nest, only to find a woman there, taking the head off a vamp, two other bodies at her feet. She’s a hunter - and a badass one at that, taken three vamps down on her own.
Dean's a little agitated, he needed some blood to help balance out the feral rut that's been burning him alive from the inside. Sam however, is speechless. His blood roars in his veins, pounding in his temples as his eyes lock onto her form. He knows - he can feel it with every fiber of his being - she’s his…his True Mate.
"Mega," he wines, taking a step forward only to fall to his knees in weakness, "Need you," he groans, before falling to his side and promptly passing out - the fever too high and rampant.
After quick introductions and explanations, Dean convinces her to come back to their motel. It just happens that she's in the same one, a few doors down. Dean drags Sam into the room, dropping him on one of the beds with a growl. He's getting too old to be dragging his giant of a brother like a sack of potatoes.
“I’ll get another room,” Dean offered, trying to move around her so as not to set Sam off, “I’ll check in with you in the morning,” he offered with a tight smile, nodding at her before leaving and closing the door behind him.
Tumblr media
The next morning, seeing Sam’s much improved condition, Dean smiled before entering the motel room and seeing the Omega sat on the bed, a fresh claiming mark at her neck.
“Well, welcome to the team,” Dean joked, still keeping his distance from her as he knew Sam would still be testy over anyone coming near his Omega, “So listen,” he added a bit abruptly, “I figured you and her could snag a car, make your way back to the Bunker,” he explained to his brother, “I know you two need some time. Fresh bond and all. And I still gotta…you know,” he added sheepishly. Now that Sam’s rut had cleared, he could see how bad Dean was in it.
It was time for him to find his Omega.
Dean sighed as he put the Impala in park, looking through the windshield up at the large facility in front of him. When he and Sam did the spell to locate their mates, they looked up the locations to plan out their routes. That’s when they discovered that Dean’s True Mate’s location - was a psychiatric hospital. He couldn’t imagine why, but he hoped that maybe it was something he could help with.
He tried his best to compose himself, feeling weak and barely holding back from losing himself to his biology. Using his FBI credentials, he was led to a common room, the nurse pointing across the room to a woman sat along, staring out the window. Dean nodded to her and the nurse returned to her duties.
Dean gulped down the hard lump in his throat that threatened to burst into a growl. From the other side of the room he could smell her scent, climbing in and flooding his brain. He tried to shake it off, sweat forming on his brow from the fever, and he urged his body to move towards her calmly.
His scent hit her as she gazed aimlessly out the window. A warmth flowed through her and she closed her eyes, humming in content. She opened them once more, her gaze still outside, as she started gently rocking.
“‘Mega…” Dean breathed quietly, his eyes fluttering closed in small intervals as he approached and her scent got stronger. It was driving him crazy, but he had to be wary of his surroundings, wary of her. He had to stay calm. With long controlled breaths he finally reached his goal, pulling a seat opposite the Omega and huffing out a shaky breath.
She turned her head to look at him, her eyes gently rolling over his face and body before meeting his eyes once more. Her face was blank, but she looked pale and tired and afraid.
“W-who are you?” she asked, eyeing him warily.
Now he was here he didn’t know what to do. His brain was too full of other ideas. His cheeks had grown slightly pink from the quickly growing fever. “M-my name’s Dean Winchester,” he said quietly, “I…you…” he had to stop and clench his eyes for a moment, swallowing another hard lump in his throat, “You’re my True Mate.”
She looked him over once more, taking a deeper breath, before her eyes turned sad, “You’re dying too?” she asked, emotionless in features and tone.
Dean tilted his head at the question, frowning slightly, “Do you mean turning feral?” he had to gulp again, shifting in his seat as his body ached.
“I guess so,” she shrugged, “Too many meds to really know the difference.” She suddenly lurched forward, her elbows on the table as she looked at him intently and wide-eyed, “They say I’m crazy, you know? That what I saw wasn’t what I saw, but I saw what I saw!” she nodded manically along to her words, “You don’t need a crazy Omega.” she shook her head emphatically, looking down at her lap.
Dean jolted back in surprise at her small outburst, but his rational mind kicked in. He’d seen these places before and the meds they give patients, “I’ve seen a lot of things,” he offered, “So why don’t you tell me what you saw?”
“I didn’t do it,” she whisper-hissed, leaning forward on the table and glancing around the room before looking at him again, “He did, he came in and killed her, not me!”
Dean frowned again, his head jumping to ‘potential case mode’, “So, there was a guy?” he pressed her for more information, “What did he look like?”
“He was just a guy,” she shook her head, “B-but his eyes were weird,” she exclaimed wide eyed as if it was happening before her once more, “He killed her and he said I had to come with him because my Alpha was a very bad man. A-and then his eyes…” she trailed off, shaking her head and fighting back tears, “I got away, went to the police…b-but no one believes me.” she whispered sadly.
Dean’s body almost trembled with quickly growing anger. Someone or something knew what he and Sam had been doing. They hurt his Omega.
My Omega.
Mine.
“You’re not crazy,” he growled, quickly rising from his seat and looking down at her, “Omega, we’re leaving.”
She looked up at him in confusion, shaking her head, “I can’t leave,” she stated simply, “I’m scheduled for sterilization to stop my heat hurting me,” she explained as if it were a simple, everyday activity, “Doctor’s orders,” she nodded, turning back to look out the window.
The next thing Dean knew, he had his Omega in his arms and was standing beside the Impala. He was panting for breath and felt exhausted. He had some vague memory of a lot of snarling, roaring and punching Doctors directly in the face.
And now they were here.
“I’m gonna take you somewhere where you’ll be safe,” he breathed, looking down at…uh… “W-what’s your name, Omega?”
“Y/N,” she answered reflexively, still in an emotionless haze through it all, but relinquishing to her Alpha. “You shouldn’t have taken me,” she added, “The man with the eyes, I’ve seen him outside the window sometimes. And my heat is killing me. I’m a disposable Omega.”
“No,” Dean said suddenly and harshly, his arms held her tighter - his splayed out palms squeezing her. He bit back another growl, the scent of her heat crashing into him like a brick wall now his adrenaline fueled outburst was simmering down, “Never say that. You’re my Omega,” he pressed his forehead onto hers, gasping for breath as his body threatened to buckle as he grew weak, “Please…l-let me take care of you.”
She looked at the man, the stranger, the Alpha who had suddenly come in and tore her from her prison, like a knight rescuing a maid from a tower. She wanted to laugh at that, but she’d long ago lost her ability to emote.
They had kept her constantly medicated, to control her heat, her scent, her mind, her actions, anything they possibly could. But for some reason, something about him broke through her constant haze and made her want to just let him take charge.
“Okay, Alpha,” she agreed, just looking at him as she waited for whatever came next.
“‘Mega…” he breathed, voice breaking slightly from restraint. He held her so close, but not close enough at the same time. He could feel her warmth as he held her, her breath fanning across his lips. Some of that restraint slipped. He pressed his lips firmly into hers, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he hummed hungrily.
She pulled from the kiss, her hand gently cupping his cheek and turning his head to see several personnel searching the lot and searching for him, before one of them pointed at him and shouted for his companion.
“Right,” Dean stared wide-eyed before shaking himself back to reality. After ushering Y/N into the car, he quickly climbed in, the loud tire screeching of the Impala tires shortly following as Dean tore the car out of the lot and sped down the road.
When he said ‘somewhere safe’ before, he had meant the Bunker. The way his body was reacting right now however - aching, yearning, pleading to just touch her - he was ninety-nine percent sure he couldn’t last.
There was that motel just a few miles out though…
Y/N said nothing during the drive, her eyes out the window as before at the facility. She seemed still and calm, but also fragile and numb. But inwardly she felt trapped in her own head and unable to break free. She had dreamed about her Alpha, her True Mate, many times as had most people. And now that he was here, she was unable to even really experience it.
The next thing she realized, she was waking up in an unfamiliar room. She was somewhat dazed but her mind and body felt clear for the first time in a long time. She opened her eyes, sitting up slightly to two men at the foot of the bed she was lying in. One was the Alpha from before, the other a new stranger.
“I’ve healed and cleansed her,” Castiel explained, “But Dean-”
Dean had stumbled back, leaning against the wall as he eyes remained on fixed on Y/N. Castiel’s words were like white noise to him, he knew she was healed. If he thought her scent was powerful before, now with all the suppressants - and fuck knows what else - out of her system, it was like it had been turned up to eleven.
His head dropped back with a thud against the wall, his eyes clenching with a restrained growl. “‘Mega…” he breathed, his chest heaving and sweat forming on his brow.
She whimpered as her eyes set on him. She hadn’t felt a full heat in a long time and this one was especially bad. She knew it was him. She could remember their words, his touch, his lips.
“Alpha,” she called meekly, tentatively reaching up a hand in invite from her position on the bed.
“-Sh-she’s still in full heat,” Cas finished his sentence, taking a wary step back as he eyed the duo cautiously.
“Out,” Dean ordered, not even turning to address the Angel.
And Cas vanished.
Before Y/N could blink, Dean was there. His hands bunched in the back of her hair as he hungrily devoured her lips.
She moaned as they connected, his heat and weight soothing her ache and need. Her heart swelled, but a part of him also felt familiar, as if she’d known him all along. She pulled from the kiss, gazing into his eyes, frantic with need but also wanting to savor every moment. When she noticed how far gone he really was, she decided to let him take what he needed.
“My Alpha,” she whispered, kissing him once more.
There was a small rumble in Dean’s throat as his bloodshot eyes gazed directly back into her. He breathed, “Mine,” before his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth attached to her neck. He kissed and sucked a trail down to her collarbone, pressing his body into her as he fully mounted the bed and towered over her. He wanted to smother himself in her scent, every touch sending waves of need through him.
His hips rolled into her, his brain fogging as he quickly pulled at her shirt, ripping it clean off in one swoop before he hungrily mouthed at the swell of her breast.
She could feel the tremble in his muscles as he fought to keep the beast at bay, trying not to scare or hurt her. But she knew he needed more and she wanted to prove she could handle whatever her Alpha gave her.
“I won’t break,” she pleaded, pulling his lips from her body, “Take what you need Alpha, please,” she whispered desperately.
Dean’s eyes darkened, staring at her half-lidded before his hands moved fast. As he hungrily devoured her mouth once more, he quickly stripped them both of their clothes. His hands roamed her with need, quickly moving down to her center before two digits swiftly dove into her core.
He growled as he felt her slick, curling his fingers and pressing firmly into her g-spot, his eyes rolling back as she moaned in surprise. He quickly withdrew his fingers, moving to grab her hips and flip her onto her stomach. He hoisted her hips up to meet him, letting out a low moan as he rutted his painful hard erection through her folds.
She moaned wantonly, arching her back and presenting for him obediently. She purred, rutting back into him, desperate for her Alpha.
He moaned out, mouth hanging open longingly. “My Omega…” he growled lowly, positing the head of his cock between her folds and gripping her hips tightly, “Wanna knot you…” he growled again - hungrier - before slamming his hips forward with a loud grunt. She was perfect, tightening like a vice around him that he hissed blissfully, quickly pistoning his hips with choked huffs and growls.
She moaned loudly, panting hard as Dean set a brutal pace. His grip was tight, his cock filling her completely, slamming hard into her cervix on every thrust. She reached her arms above her, grasping onto the end of the bed for something to hold onto. Using the leverage, she pushed her hips harder back into him, lifting her head to groan out.
Dean leaned forward, his breathing quick and erratic as he pounded her. His lips grazed and sucked on her neck as he moaned, feeling the muscle at the head of his cock begin to swell. His grunts became strained as fought to keep his pace. “Cum on my knot, ‘Mega,” he demanded, releasing one of her hips to rub hard circles on her clit.
Feeling his knot swell she knew she was close to losing her mind. When his fingers found her clit, she stuttered and screamed as her orgasm washed over her, her walls clenching his throbbing length within her. Dean seemed to draw it out as her pleasure seemed to never end.
As her wall clenched him impossibly tighter, Dean roared through one final harsh thrust, holding himself as deep as possible as he finally came, his hot cum shooting deep and filling her. The hand still holding Y/N’s hip gripped bruisingly tight as Dean suddenly bit into her skin.
As her mind finally broke free of the haze of bliss, she realized he had positioned them on their sides spooning. Dean was nuzzling into the mark on her neck and humming, his hands grazing over her skin.
“Who was that man from before?” she suddenly asked, remembering feeling free of the medications and seeing a man there before he just wasn’t there.
“‘N Angel,” Dean mumbled, breathing in her hair and holding her tightly to him, “Cas. Healed you.”
Y/N smirked to herself, rubbing a hand over his forearm that was wrapped around her, “I see you’re still in caveman mode,” she teased.
He smirked with a small hum, not letting her go, ever.
Tumblr media
Forevers:
@sis-tafics
@lyarr24
@calaofnoldor
@hobby27
@spnbaby-67
Dean Winchester:
@akshi8278
@jerkbitchidjitassbutt
272 notes · View notes