#bear writes

[satorustyles]

you can't fall asleep (sukuna x reader one shot)

pairing: sukuna x reader

warnings: none, just so much fluff! and soft sukuna, maybe? he's just not the typical angry and super duper evil dude in this one.

word count: 1,512

GOJO VERSION OF THIS ONE SHOT HERE!

NANAMI VERSION OF THIS ONE SHOT HERE!

It was game night.

It's the one night of the week when you, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara gather in the living room for an endless evening of video games. The PS5 was a present given to the four of you from your ever-loving, mostly annoying sensei Gojo Satoru last Christmas. Since then, it was tradition for the four of you to spend an evening together, with pizza and burgers and a shameless amount of slander against each other.

But tonight was different.

You won't be able to join them because you're sick. Headaches. Nausea. Dry coughs and the flu. It was all because of the most recent mission you've been on alone, and it already took its toll on you. Your three friends insisted on moving game night to a different date, but you didn't want them to postpone further. You've been sick for three days already, and for three nights, they adjusted for you. Tomorrow was the start of a new week, meaning you could likely end your streak of having weekly game nights. And you didn't want that.

"Guys, it's just one night. I won't die if I miss one." You told them with a shaky laugh, the cough in your lungs threatening to bark its way out your throat with every huff of your breath.

"y/n," Yuuji started as he walked over to your weak body on your bed, patting your shoulder gently. He had the most serious, determined look on his face. "I'll win this for you."

You smiled at how adorable he was and decided to play along. "Thank you, Yuuji. You're my hero."

The evening stretched on, and as you stayed on your bed, your friends yelled over each other in triumph and defeat, followed by loud laughs that would jerk you awake. Your head pounded at the loud sounds coming from the living room. Despite the closed door, you could still clearly make out their voices and their stomping across the wooden floor.

It only made your head hurt more.

But you didn't have the heart to get out of bed and ask them to be a little quieter. It's been a long week for everyone, not only for you. Megumi and Yuuji completed a mission before you, and Nobara was sent to accompany Toge after your expedition. It was a busy week for all of you, and game night was a way of easing everyone from their exhaustion.

"Megumi you prick!" Nobara shrieked, and your head pounded at the high-pitched tone. "I'm going to fucking kill you on the next round!"

You sighed to yourself, massaging your temples while your other hand struggled to pull your blanket closer to your chest. It was freezing. Your socks and the thick covers didn't help your case at all.

"That's how a game works, you loser!" Megumi shot back just as loudly. Then thuds. You could picture the two of them on the floor strangling each other.

Oh how you love them so much.

"Shut up, you brats!"

Your heart stopped. Silence followed after the sudden and unexpected outburst.

Despite your current state, it didn't take long for you to recognize Sukuna's voice coming from Yuuji's body. He seemed to have taken over while the other two were arguing.

Considering the abrupt silence, Megumi and Nobara must have also been shocked. The only sound that could be heard was the background music that still played on the screen.

"Not even an ounce of consideration for your poor comrade. Even an old man and a newborn baby would startle awake by your gaudiness!"

Your heart hammered against your chest when you realized that Sukuna was talking about you. Then, footsteps padded across the floor before your door was opened, and you froze in your place, closing your eyes and hoping that your breathing didn't sound too erratic.

"Just cut the act. I know you're awake." Sukuna mumbled next to you and you slightly flinched, surprised that he was immediately by your side. He turned your night lamp on, illuminating the darkness of the room.

You realized there was no point in even pretending. You sighed, opening your eyes and coming face to face with the King of Curses himself, his red eyes staring down at you and his lips curled in a slight smirk. 

"What do you want." You croaked out. Your throat was already dry.

"Here to help you," He replied nonchalantly as if it was the most normal thing to do. "It was about time that brat brought me out. Couldn't even think about helping or at least leaving you a glass of water."

As if on cue, he places a tall glass of water on your bedside table before gesturing for you to sit up. "Have a drink. I brought some painkillers."

You slowly sat up, leaned your back against the headboard and took a pill before popping it in your mouth. Sukuna then handed you the glass, and you were quick to gulp everything down in seconds. The liquid felt satisfying running down your dry throat.

"Thanks." You sighed. You then nodded at the door. "You can let Yuuji out now. I'm sure he wants to play more. You've done enough."

You didn't mean to sound like a jerk. Technically, you were still confused about where you stood with your—friendship? Relationship?—with Sukuna, after Yuuji has been teasing you that Sukuna wouldn't stop talking about you in his head when you first encountered him. He would find ways to take over Yuuji's body, even resorting to bribery and negotiation just to get himself out. He wouldn't admit it himself, but he's been so taken by you that he always craved your presence.

"The brat and I made a deal. He won't let me out for a week starting tomorrow if I could have an evening with you."

Your stomach fluttered. You tried to shrug it off as the occasional nausea that you felt, but deep down, you knew that you had a soft spot for the King of Curses as well.

"I—" You tried to say something after a moment's silence, but Sukuna was already up and going over to the other side of the bed. You could only stare up at him, dumbfounded.

"Move over a little, yeah?" He muttered quietly, and you found yourself obliging. You could only watch as he made himself comfortable next to you, the black markings on his face and shoulders more prominent underneath the light of your lamp. The tight black shirt that Yuuji wore emphasized the muscles on his arms and chest and you could feel the heat slowly creeping up to your neck. You were subconsciously imagining what it would be like if Sukuna had a body of his own.

It would be chaos for everyone.

For you.

"Come on now, don't be shy." Sukuna teased with an amused smile as he stretched one arm over your head, urging you to get closer to him. But you could only stare at him, still processing everything, asking yourself whether or not you had fallen asleep and were already dreaming.

He sighed in defeat before letting his arm wrap around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his body. He then took your arm and let it rest across his stomach, guiding your head to rest on his chest.

"Better?" He whispered. In fact, it was better. The warmth radiating off his body helped alleviate the coldness you felt, and he also took the liberty of pulling the covers above the two of you.

You felt rigid against him and you knew that he thought it as well.

"Come on, you little brat," He sighed, but he sounded fond and soft, unlike his usual, annoyed tone. "Relax yourself. I'm not going to bite you. Unless you want me to, of course..."

He received a weak slap across his stomach and laughed lightly, taking advantage of hugging you closer to him. He let his longer legs intertwine with yours, exuding warmth down your feet and ankles. His hand then reached up to run his fingers through your hair, softly massaging your scalp while his other hand held onto your arm and kept you from pulling away from him.

You've never felt so relaxed tonight. Everything felt so much better, warmer, cozier...

You were finally dozing off, happy that your body found the comfort and peace it sought hours ago. You couldn't even bring yourself to feel so reserved around Sukuna anymore, and you found yourself nuzzling closer to him, rubbing your cheek against his chest.

"Thank you," You mumbled sleepily, your hand sliding underneath his shirt and feeling the warmth of his stomach on your trembling palm. He just exudes so. Much. Warmth.

You felt his lips on your forehead, keeping it there for a long time. His hand rested above yours, just outside the cloth of his shirt.

"Sleep, my darling." He whispered against your skin. "Recover. I'll keep a look out for you tonight."

It was safe to say that you didn't want the evening to end. 

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna one shot #sukuna fluff #sukuna au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #bear writes

[bearsinpotatosacks]

A snippet of Goose explaining polyamory to Bradley.

---------

Carole shifted as she woke from a dream. The glimmers of it hung around her in the blue glaze of twilight but if she tried to think about it, it escaped her like trying to catch smoke.

Slowly, she unlocked each part of her body. Her arms unstuck from her sides, legs stretched tightly as she tried not to disturb Goose or Slider.

But to no avail.

Slider's hand rubbed her stomach underneath her t-shirt. Or rather, his t-shirt. Her's was somewhere on the floor along with the rest of her clothes, apart from her underwear, Goose's t-shirt and Slider's boxers. Apparently he didn't mind going commando underneath his pajama bottoms, something she could feel evidently behind her. He made an excellent big spoon.

Goose groaned in the darkness. He was flat out on his back, one arm around Carole, another underneath Slider. He made an excellent pillow, didn't move too much, although that was for a more morose reason.

After three months of physio, he could walk, but only with a walker. Every day in the rehab hospital had been intense, it had taken its toll on his mental health even if he tried to be positive for them all. Now he was out, he still had hours with the physio, and stretches and exercises too. The pain was immense even if he still had minimal feeling in his legs.

But that didn't stop them making the most of Slider being on leave. Even if he could only lie back, they had no issues. She could feel the slight ache in her thighs now, could feel their hands on her, the images floating around her head, she smiled to herself at the memories.

"Go back to sleep, Carole," Slider murmured into her hair.

"I will, I-"

A small knock at the door got them all darting up. Goose was the most unconscious of all of them. His eyes barely open, hair ruffled and double chin prominent as he lifted his head to look at the door.

"Momma?" Bradley's voice came through the closed door.

"Coming, baby," she replied.

Rolling off of Goose, she padded along the floor to the door. She'd started to convert the garage into their bedroom as soon as she could after learning Goose would have to relearn how to walk. Climbing up the stairs was too much of a feat for now.

She opened the door and her heart melted. Bradley stood silhouetted by darkness. The outline of his goose in his tight grip, his baggy plane pyjamas and him rubbing his eyes made for an impossibly cute image.

"Can't sleep?" She asked.

He shook his head.

"Come on, sleep in our bed tonight,"

He nodded and toddled after her as she crawled back into bed. Her and Slider shuffled back slightly to make room for Bradley to lie on Goose.

She watched him climb up up the bed, wiggling as he pushed himself up until she sighed and picked him up. He carried on wiggling as he got settled on Goose's chest.

For a second they all calmed down. Her breathing regulated as she watched Bradley with one eye open. Slider's hands locked around her middle. The regular thrumming of Goose's heartbeat ran through her head.

Just as she could feel herself slipping back asleep again, she saw Bradley dart up.

"Why's Uncle Slider in your bed?"

They all looked at each other, then back at him. She gulped. Slider's hands tensed around her middle. Sneaking a glance at him, she saw his eyes wide and him biting his lip.

She didn't know what to say. It was too late to explain the nature of their relationship to Bradley. There would be too many questions and she was far too tired

Luckily, Goose came to their rescue.

"He's in our bed because we love him a lot," he said. "We love him like we love each other, okay? We'll explain it in the morning."

Bradley didn't say anything at first. She knew he was staring straight at Slider, not meaning to be malicious but having that innate toddler nature to be creepy.

But after a few seconds, he simply said, "Okay," and lay back down on Goose's chest to sleep.

#slooserole #ron kerner #slider top gun #nick bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #ron slider kerner #carole bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #bear writes #unfinished snippets #goose lives au #top gun #top gun 1986

[bearwriting]

Pride and Prejudice

Fitzwilliam Darcy

My Time is Yours: Fitzwilliam Darcy was never really one for balls (or social gatherings in general), but after some prodding from Mr. Bingley, he realizes they may be good for some things. 

#pride and prejudice masterlist #pride and prejudice fics #pride and prejudice imagine #pride and prejudice x reader #p&p masterlist #p&p fics #p&p imagine #p&p x reader #fitzwilliam darcy fics #fitzwilliam darcy imagine #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #mr darcy fics #mr darcy imagine #mr darcy x reader #bear writes

[bearlytolerant]

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @thevikingwoman thank you!

These are from a wip and it’s Gwyn from dragons dogma 2. Putting below the cut for length.

1. “A senseless request when you are all that consumes my thoughts now.”

2. Ah, another pretty boy in distress. Shall I throw you over my shoulder then?”

3. “You can leave, if you wish. Know I would miss you dearly, if you choose that path, but my joy is brightest when you are defying what destiny has ordained for you.” She reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. “And you shine brightest when your actions are of your own volition.”

4. “Raise your hand against her again and I’ll wear your fingers as charms on a chain around my neck.”

5. “Now if I told you that, it would no longer be a well kept secret now, would it?”

6. “Do you three gossip about me as well while I am away?”

7. “Have you lost your senses?” She reels on him in the dark recesses of the dim lit halls, a draft sending a chill down her spine and raising the hairs on her neck. “Times such as these require playing the part of the feckless dullard. Either play the part with me or wait here.”

8. “No, it does not bother me that he takes Disa to his bed. In another world perhaps—“ She laughs. “I have always enjoyed a bit of sugar with my cream.”

9. “If this is my destiny,” she spits, fists balled in seething anger. “If this is only what I was made for in this world, then perhaps I should unmake this world.”

10. She hovers in the doorway, eyes fixated on the bandit leader. “You can milk him all day but I believe this billy goat is better repurposed for slaughter.”

11. “Fear grips my heart nearly every waking hour, but when we are yoked together, I know only courage.”

12. “Senseless from the moment I met you.” She tsks. “You are a fool to think my heart does not ache for you. Not just your touch but those words whispered and carried off by the winds during our midnight trysts.” She takes another brave step toward him. “I miss you and long for you. I did the night we met and even more so now.”

13. “Have you seen the view from here? How unfortunate to have been made arisen. I should have liked to have been made with wings.”

14. “I hear the brine calling and it sounds like it’s begging for supper,” she says and delivers an arrow to its eye.

15. “His objective is dubious at best but I admire him. Though I believe his thorough research methods could be used for better means, his spirit is unwavering in resolve.” She offers a wry grin. “And I’m not just saying that because he carries the same resolve in the bedroom.”

Tagging @ellstersmash @fangbangerghoul @lisa-and-shadow @myreia @staticpallour @a-cosmic-elf @roguelioness and anyone else who sees this and would like to do this for their oc (and no obligations of course)!

#15 lines of dialogue #bear writes #oc: Gwyn #dd2 #she is my life and my muse right now #thanks for the tag viking! #this one was really fun!

[blushblushbear]

OMG YOU'RE BACK!!! (It's been so long you last posted that i thought you left the fandom).

Well, since we can make requests again, can I ask for protective headcanons for Scale and Cole pls? (if you don't want to do it's fine, feel free to ignore, and welcome back <3).

Eyyy, it's me bby!!

Cole:

Honestly probably the most protective of the boys

Not that he'd let you know that

Gets crazy jealous and crazy protective

If anyone says anything rude to you, you bet he's either standing behind you or just around a corner glaring them down

While you're around he's fine to just use his natural creepiness to intimidate people into backing down

But rest assured, he is adding them to his list...

And depending how egregious their transgression was, they might be moved straight to the top of said list

But that's just him being protective of you towards other people

But there are many dangers in this world a marshmallow could face that aren't people

Like I stated before he acts very calm and cool the majority of the time-- brushing off any body guard accusations and denying he did anything

But all that cool goes completely out the window if you are ever in mortal danger in front of him

He is loud, he is aggressive, he's a little bit violent

He also can't help but freak out

You getting hurt or worse is his literally his nightmare and losing you in an capacity is his only real free

Get ready to be held a little too tight as he mumbles away, completely lost in panicked thought

Once he's composed again he will very shyly deny that he ever lost his cool that much in the first place

But he will also hold you close again at random later and tell you that you're not allowed to get hurt, got it?

Frightened kitty. Violent kitty. Tense kitty.

Scale:

Don't ever tell Cole you said or thought this, but him and Scale are a lot alike lmao

Scale is probably the second most protective boy in the cast

But he's definitely not as possessive or unhinged lmao

He's more nervously concerned

He sees you trip and catches you and is all "dorky and worried"

Yes. He considers concern dorky. He is an assassin. They don't DO concern...

At least he usually doesn't

But with you he turns into a fretting mother hen at a pin drop

And then gets really embarrassed that he did

He has been training specifically to keep you safe

Reflexes to catch you when you fall

Awareness of your surroundings to notice any danger before it has a chance to come near you

First aid and CPR, just in case

He is also a stand behind you menacingly type

But unlike Cole, he is not as quiet about it

Not that he's screaming or anything, but he will tell someone to piss off

He also will pull out one of his blades to really send the message home

Def one of the types to bridal carry you if you hurt yourself or are feeling weak

He also always makes sure you're wearing a seat belt (which half the time he doesn't even do himself)

There are a lot of dangers out there, but he's always watching out for you, having your back from the shadows whether you know it or not

#blush blush #blush blush game #cole #scale #bb game #bb cole #blush blush cole #cole bb #cole blush blush #bb scale #blush blush scale #scale bb #scale blush blush #bear talk #bear answers #bear rambles #bear writes #headcanons #headcanon

[bear-durs-gate]

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Pairing: pre relationship fem!tav x astarion

Rating: M (to be safe since vampirism I guess)

Word count: 1,615

AO3

She dreamt. Dreamt of being in a boat out at sea, floating on silver waves in moonlight with nothing but wind at her back and stars in her hair. The crashing of waves tossed her to and fro but there was a sense of freedom. Of peace. But somewhere from above and below and behind her, she felt it. Eyes watching her. Breath, hot on her neck. Fear prickled and nipped at her nape, nudging her awake.

She jolted upright and nearly smacked heads with Astarion.

“…shit,” he muttered.

“Fucking hell!” She yelped and caught sight of him, teeth bared and recoiling while looking—what—like a school boy in trouble? Beautiful idiot vampire. Surely the guilty act was just a performance though. Hell, she’d play a part if she was caught doing such a silly thing. She hopped to her feet and he backed further away.

“No, no. It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

She almost laughed. Was he frightened? Of her? When he’s the one with sanguine sucking chompers? “Oh, so you weren’t hovering over me with fangs bared to take a bite? Just having a sniff were you?”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you!” he continued, a bit breathy, “I just needed—well, blood.”

“Ah, yes, the old I wasn’t going to hurt you, just puncture your flesh and take a little sip line. I’ve never heard that one before.” She blinked with lifted brows. “My apologies for such an absurd assumption.” She smirked. “Besides, it’s glaringly obvious now that you need blood. It’s all making perfect sense now. Explains why you’ve been so incredibly slow.”

“Hey, now. I’m not that slow.” His features shifted from fake fear to frowning. “But you’re right. I am in need. I feed on animals but it’s not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak.” He threw her a look that was probably meant for her to have pity. But all she felt was certain other things. Things she had no business feeling. “If I had just a little blood I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

It was cute the way he pleaded. She liked him like that, begging. She wanted to make him do a little more. How far would he be willing to go for her blood. Probably not far seeing as there was a camp full of sleeping possible participants. And he was just about to bite into her if she hadn’t woken up, but living in a bubble of a delectable fantasy seemed rather harmless for a moment.

She cut it off before it really began however. She needed to focus. He didn’t need to catch wind of her base desires. So, she’d put on her own show.

“Bravo. I would clap for you if I could, you always perform so elegantly but you know, I’d rather not wake the others with the encore. My dear boy, I would gladly say yes but I need you to know something first.”

“Yes, go on.”

“I must tell you—if you ever fucking stand over me like that again and wake me from my pleasant dreams with such a frightening stance—breathing on my neck like some spectral from the depths of my deepest nightmares—oh! There will be words—words to be had. A great deal of words. So many words, you will regret you have ears and be begging for someone, anyone—except for me because I refuse to dirty my hands with such grotesque tasks you see—to be chopping them clean off! And I promise you, such an exchange will be utter torment for you and not the pleasurable kind either.”

Astarion shifted from slightly concerned to amused to almost baffled. “So, you aren’t angry?”

“I’m angry that you didn’t just commit to the bit. A scary vampire needs blood to be strong and you’re always judging my choices but then you hesitated? If you wanted to make an ordeal of it, you could’ve sent me an invitation or something, allow me to improv if you needed a flair of dramatics. Give me time to memorize my proper lines. My heavens good boy, I was having the most pleasant of dreams and you had to go and ruin it—making it nightmarish because you could not simply take the bite. Hovering—ugh.” She shuttered. “I do not frighten easy, mind you. And angry is really the wrong word actually—disappointed is more suitable. Yes—very disappointed.”

“Are you saying I can have a taste? I got a bit lost halfway through your speech.”

“Yes.”

He smirked. “And here I thought I would need to be a little more convincing.” His face fell. “I even had a whole speech of my own prepared.”

“Of course you did.” Tav shook her head. “My apologies for disrupting the scenario you had rehearsed in your head but if you just asked me sooner then this could’ve played out exactly as you wanted. But no, you had to do it the hard way.”

“At best I thought you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He grew more serious as Tav folded her arms across her chest. “I needed you to trust me—and you can trust me.”

“Bullshit.” She unfolded her arms and wagged a finger at him. “I’ll stop you right there. Someone who wants trust doesn’t slink around in the dead of night trying to bite the ones they want to trust them. Come now, my dear boy, we both know this is a matter of you being caught and your words, oh they are very pretty, but unnecessary. Besides, I trust you. About as far as I can throw you.”

He looked her up and down, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I’d say you could throw me quite far.”

“Probably. We could test it out tomorrow.”

“I’d really rather not but thank you. For the trust that is. And I only need a little taste. I swear.”

“A taste—a sample? A taste and how long will that last? No, no, that will not suffice. Feast my boy and recover your strength—though I do ask that you spare me, as you are well aware that I am the most elite performer and we can’t be burdening the others with walking my carcass about, puppeteering and propping me up until we happen across a goodly necromancer now can we?” She raised her brow. “No, we can’t. Or can we? Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Let’s roll on it shall we?”

She pulled a die from her pocket and tossed it on the ground. A solid one out of twenty. Her fate was sealed for the night. Astarion seemed very amused.

“Well—I suppose you could ask Withers to revive me or use one of Gale’s fancy little scrolls. Though, I do wonder how that will affect my skills—surely there’s some unnamed consequence for an impromptu revival and I do wonder what that might be, hmm. No matter! So long as I can talk, I can do what I must, so if you need my blood to optimize your performance, then my dear boy, you shall have it!” Tavelia tugged on his sleeve. “Now, get to it so I can get back to my dreams and we can carry on same as always—but different because you’ll be stronger and not so painstakingly slow, yes?”

Astarion hesitated. “Really? If you’re sure…”

“We are all consenting adults here. Unless you’ve changed your mind? Does one of our other campmates look tastier? Please say, ‘no, you’re blood is the most compelling. Smells like a finely preserved cheese only to be brought out and paired with the most expensive wine. In fact, you are so special, that I simply had to hover over you particularly just to have a taste. You were simply irresistible.’”

“Well, I wouldn’t have stated it quite like that. So, desperate.” Astarion smiled coyly then raised a brow. “And cheese? I don’t think I’ve ever compared blood to cheese. What a peculiar choice.”

“It’s improv, my good chap. Now let’s get to it, shall we? Don’t be shy.” She gestured to him, coaxing him to come closer. She even turned her neck, tilting slightly while brushing all of her pastel rainbow strands out of the way.

“You are making it weird.”

“Nothing is worth anything if it’s not at least a little weird.”

He shook his head. “Let's make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” He gestured to the bedroll.

Tav situated herself, lying on her back while reaching for her die and pocketing it. “I am as comfortable as I’ll ever be with a shred of fabric between me and the rock hard ground. So I’m ready when you are.”

She’d expected the pain and honestly she’d expected the stupid butterflies that fluttered throughout her stomach but she hadn’t expected to let out the most embarrassing moan. Desperate indeed.

“Oh, sorry,” she muttered but Astarion didn’t seem to notice or care as the blood flowed from her body. Astarion seemed wholly invested in draining her completely but at least he was being gentle about it. Cradling her head as he just kept drinking. And drinking some more.

He drank so much that she started to drift; dizzy and light drifting further into the numbing cold, darkness of night. She closed her eyes, holding back another idiotic moan. Concentrated on the way her extremities went from chilly to nonexistent at all. Maybe he was sending her back to the lovely little boat dream.

Yes, she was floating. Rocking. She was free.

At peace.

She was.

And then she was not.

#bear writes #tav #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #but pre relationship #please don’t take this seriously #my tav is a monologuing weirdo and I love her #but this is silly #the back muscles banner is so you all can thirst after her like me and a suggestion from a dear friend lmao

[devotedbear]

i have the urge to write a story so take this bitches

(Based off The post I did with Rockwell's Somebody's Watching Me) (I have no knowledge of how therapy works, so please correct any of my mistakes in this post, please!! )

----------

He walks into the office, per usual. Nobody's there, which strikes him as odd. Usually, 'Grandma' is in the kitchen, but today she's not. He assumes that she's taken a sick day or something. He gets to work, cleaning up all the trash and random splatters on the chairs and walls. It takes him a few hours, he lost track a while ago. He doesn't remember much these days, but he knows this is his job, so he does it. He grabs a bottle of water on his way out of work, and takes a drink, walking to his car.

-----

He arrives at his therapist's office, and takes a seat, drawing on his hand. He doesn't know why he does it, but he still does it anyways, it feels familiar. He eventually walks into the room, and takes a seat. Before the therapist can start to speak, he blurts out; " I'm just an average man, with an average life, right? "

The therapist is confused. She knows he has some issues, but she eggs him on, motioning with her hand as she writes some stuff down. He then continues.

" I work from",He pauses for a second, recalling how long he worked that day. "9-5, and I pay the price. All I want is to be left alone, in my average home. But why do I always feel, like I'm in the twilight zone?"

He takes a breath, and looks around, then speaks softly, " I always feel like someone is watching me. I don't think I have privacy."

The session ends a few hours later, the therapist finishing up some questions here and there. He gets up and leaves, and heads out of the building, straight to his car.

-------

He walks inside his house, and he hears his T.V on. He could've sworn he turned it off last night. He shrugs it off, and takes off his jacket and shoes, locking the door behind him twice.

-----

The phone rings an hour later. He walks over to it, and has this feeling of he shouldn't answer it. He doesn't. He walks away from the phone, heading into his bathroom.

He takes a shower, and refuses to wash his hair. He's running low on shampoo and conditioner, is what he tells himself. Not that he has a feeling of dread.

----

He wakes up the next morning, two hours of sleep did nothing to help him. Maybe he shouldn't of made that recipe for dinner. It took to long. He gets dressed, and heads to work, repeating the same cycle he did the day before.

-----

'Grandma' is in the kitchen today, along with everyone else. He works on the weekends, and gets payed on Mondays. Nobody minds the arrangement. They all seem glad to have him around. He walks twords one of the guys behind the counter, and they hand him his payment. He walks out, and heads to his car.

----

A few hours go by, and he's done all of his chores for the week. He's bought groceries, cleaned his house, did the laundry, and cleaned his bedroom. He has money left over this week, so he decides to go out for a bit. He calls some of his friends, inviting them to come over and hang out with him. None of them pick up the phone. On the last call, he forgets to hang up, and he walks away from the phone, leaving the friends phone to pick up everything when they call him back.

He says he feels someone's watching him, and he thinks there's a camera in his house somewhere. He eventually notices the phone, and hangs up.

-----

He wanders around his house, looking everywhere. He fails to notice a few strategically placed cameras, hidden in plain sight.

The cameras are placed in his house when he's away at work. They don't want him snitching about the business to anyone.

They realize they have nothing to worry about, because he never talks about his job, that they know of. They think he is a private person. Which is good. They can use him until he becomes too paranoid. That water they're giving him won't last longer, is what 'Grandma' claimed on Sunday.

--------

He starts taking walks around his neighborhood. He convinces himself it's because he wants the exercise, but he truly knows it's because of whats been happening in his home. The cabinets open on their own when he's out, he comes home to the T.V on, he's even seen his phone off the wall, dangling from the cord.

He knows it's someone or something, but he rationalizes with himself that he does those things.

People in his neighborhood stop to chat with him every few days. Occasionally they get told the story of how he thinks someones watching him. They laugh it off, but all of them are equally disturbed. They've witnessed this transformation in this man, from a outgoing, happy man, to this paranoid, timid, man. They think, No, they know somethings up. They've never heard of the place he works.

-----

It's been a week since anyone's last seen him. They all knock on his door, and wait for him to answer. He never does. His friends try to call him, but he never answers.

-----

It's been a month since anyone's seen him last. They're starting to get worried. There's a horrid stench when you approach his house, like rotting food. They still try to contact him, yet he never answers.

----

It's been two months, and they've now contacted the police. They came back outside looking disgusted, one of them even threw up. They block off his house, and make the unfortunate announcement that he's dead.

----

Someone in the paper wrote him an obituary. It's the least they could do. They all loved the guy, it was a shock he had died- who would do that to him? They wanted to know.

-------

The police get a letter someday, four weeks after they've discovered his body.

The letter says something about his final moments, and one sentence sticks out to them the moment the read it.

" It's calm, like an old friend. It's warm and sweet, like cookies your Grandma baked. That's how death feels, friends. It's like a nice breeze on a sunny day. Friendly."

----

Nobody knows why the last work sticks out to them. Nor do they know why Grandma has ' ' around it. It's faded, you can barely see it around the word.

----

One of his neighbors remember. He told them the name of the place he worked.

It was named Friendly.

The police knew what had to be done.

---------

That's all for now, folks!!

( @someone-you-do-not-know , I think I'll do that story!)

#Bear writes #writeblr #writers on tumblr

[bear-cubs-art-things]

OKI OKI YOUNG ZECHARIAH AU FANFIC GOO-

part 1 yeeeee!!!

★~🐸~★

It was a beautiful morning in Wartwood. The sun glowed warmly in the pale blue sky, clouds of shimmery white glided along wind currents seemingly so calm. The soil smelled of dew and previous rainfall, plants along every water-body edge they could find. Or really any patch of dirt. Along with the earthy warm smell of dirt, wildflowers and bakery goods filled the air. It truly smelled like home.

His home. Zechariah Nettles.

Zechariah Phineas Nettles. 11 years old. 5 feet 4 inches. Lives with his grandmother Gretchen Basil Nettles and mother Juniper Autumn Yggdrasil. Has no siblings. Loves to read, listen to music, on occasion draw on scraplets of paper. Does chores more frequently than he thinks necessary. Works on his household farm (who didn't have a farm in Wartwood?). Green-grey with dark brown eyes, with a pale blue tongue. Kind and often shy, doesn't talk much.

You get the idea.

Often Zechariah would sit on the garden wall, looking off into the vague and unknown distance. Staring at the summer clouds, lost in daydream thought. He was a nice kid, they said. Soft spoken and well mannered.

And, some might say, a perfect target.

Wartwood, though a kind small town a ways from the capital, had its fair share of pricks and assholes. Unfortunately, older teens had it good with picking on poor 'Riah. Everyday it was the same.

"Staring off at the stars, huh, dreamerboy?"

"He doesn't have any friends, so he talks to the plants!"

"More working less dreaming farmerboy!!"

"I bet his mom hates him so he has to do all the farmwork."

"What's so interesting about the damn sky, huh?!"

"I bet his thoughts are his only company, and that isn't much company is it now?"

And everyday, Zechariah continues on. So deep in thought their sneers fly right between his ears (whatever passes as his ears). But even now and then, it gets bad.

Really bad.

Zechariah was just walking home from the market one day; a bag of assorted groceries for his grandma in one arm, a loaf of bread in the other. He was just a kid running another errand, minding his own business. Three big kids walked up to him.

"Whatcha got there?" asked the biggest one. A newt of dark fuchsia and slit eyes. At least that's what they looked like.

"Hm?" Zechariah responded softly, quietly, being brought back to reality from his daydream.

"I said," the fuchsia newt raised his voice, "whatcha got there."

"Groceries," once again Zechariah responded softly. Light words in the wind. Faint.

"What kind of groceries?" another sneered. A blue frog, high-pitched voice, short and stocky. Wore a newsboys cap. Kinda silly looking.

"Dunno" 'Riah shrugged. "Gramma gave me a list."

"Y'know young tadpoles like you shouldn't really wander alone without an adult," the newt chimed back in. "It can be dangerous."

"How so?"

"You never know," the newt swaggered closer to Zechariah, malice glittering in his eyes, "who might want to hurt you."

Almost as if it were rehearsed, the third one - a big burly red toad with no neck and a wide build - slugged a punch at Zechariah. Sent him straight to the mud.

And his groceries, which he was more upset about than his own physical wellbeing.

The frog joined in, kicking at Zechariah's face. The toad was still throwing punches, but at his sides. The newt stood there, arms folded, smiling and watching.

Zechariah merely trying to cover his head with his sticks-for-arms. Which, must be mentioned, was another part of him that Amphibians made fun of him of.

And when they were done with him, after Zechariah was beaten to a froggy pulp, the newt finally bent down to talk to him.

"Listen closely, little runt," he hissed.

Zechariah uncovered his eyes, looked up to meet the newt's.

Glittering with malice. Hatred. The need to hurt.

"You aren't welcomed here. This is OUR territory."

"Hnnnggh-"

The newt snapped (in a sense) and threw Zechariah up by the collar, so that he was dangling a good 6 inches off the ground. Battered and bruised, lips swollen and bleeding. He looked terrible, awfully terrible. He shouldn't even be in this situation right now... how have things escalated so quickly?

"If I see your dingy ass walking these streets again I WILL kill you." the newt hissed, foaming at the mouth. Insane. Bloodthirsty.

"Hnnngggghh" was the only thing to escape Zechariah's numb face.

The newt then delivered the final blow.

A merciless throwdown into the mud. Face first, if you will. And he laughed. So did the other two.

And they walked away, still laughing.

Zechariah, unable to feel much through the pain coursing through his veins and muscles, laid there in the mud. Groceries spoiled, his Gramma's copper wasted, his body battered in a lifeless heap.

He sighed. Didn't cry. Sighed.

He wasn't much of a crier. And for his age, he should've been crying at that first punch.

He just laid there. Still and breathing. Coping with the immense pain those teens had inflicted on him.

"They're jerks, huh?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Mm hm..." was his muffled reply, quiet.

"I'm sorry they did that to you," the voice said again. "Really."

Zechariah felt his body being turned on his side and brought up to a sitting-up position. It wasn't hard because he was so light and thin.

What he was faced with was a royal purple newt with chin-length black hair curly at the ends, with a apologetic grin on his face. His eyes will filled with innocent brightness, hiding the apparent knowledge that he knew something about those teens that beat up Zechariah.

"My brother can be a pain sometimes, and I always have to clean his mess," he sighed. Sat in front of 'Riah. "I'm truly sorry he did this to you. Wrong place wrong time I guess."

"Mm hm..."

Purple Newt stuck out his hand. "I'm Brocky by the way. Brocky Fronds. That pink newt was my older bro Rasphy. He's always been a no-good."

"Hmm..."

Brocky glanced a long glance in the direction where Rasphy last went. He snapped his head back to Zechariah.

"So anyways, moving on from that, what's your name?"

"Hmh?"

"I introduced myself, and you have yet to do the same," Brocky pointed out. "In case you didn't hear me the first time, I said my name was Brocky."

"I heard that-" Zechariah replied.

"Woah he does speak!" Brocky snarked almost immediately, sarcastically. Zechariah chuckled a bit.

Zechariah stuck his hand out to meet Brocky's, and shook it. "I'm Zechariah Nettles."

" 'The Skinny-Legged Frog' they call you," Brocky jerked his head in Rasphy's direction. "My bro and his friends, I mean."

"They call me lots of things," Zechariah shrugged. "I never paid any attention to that much."

"Well, I know what I'm gonna call you, if you're alright with it," Brocky declared, standing up.

"What?" Zechariah looked up at him, bracing for whatever horrible nickname Brocky was going to give him. Not like he cared much.

Instead, Brocky gave him a goofy grin, ear-to-ear (whatever passed as ears) all-tooth smile, and offered his hand to help Zechariah up.

"My friend."

#young!zechariah au #fanfiction #HOLY SHIT PART ONE DONE?? #fuck im tired #and im going to sleep gn yall #bear cub art things #(i think i need a writing tag) #bear writes

[bearcina]

"I Don't Do Botany, Anymore."

Ruth Bellamy/Ophelia Amana

E rated because of the nature of the game and DLC, however no smut.

Set after Murder on Eridanos, this is your fair warning for SPOILERS!!

Ophelia felt a warm hand on her cold, cold shoulder. It felt like a vice was slowly wrapping around her throat.

"I don't do botany, anymore."

Ophelia shares an evening with Helen

"Miss Bellamy?" Ophelia quietly called, stepping into the penthouse bedchamber. The aetherwave star was sitting at the computer and typing away, but stopped and looked to the Investigator.

"Investigator, it's nice to see you." She said, and cracked a small smile. "I can't thank you enough."

Ophelia smiled back after a minute.

"What will you do now, if you don't mind me asking?" Ophelia asked. She shut the door behind her and meandered over to sit on the bed.

"With Belinda gone, I think I'll be leaving the colony." Ruth sighed, and tapped a few keys to quit her session on the computer.

"Yeah? I hope you find somewhere nice. Somewhere far from this mess." Ophelia smiled, she had done the same thing when she left Earth. Originally planned on working a remote botany outpost, and maybe running away with a few sweethearts.

"You care so much for such a stranger, inspector." The actress smiled and leaned in. "I don't know anything about you, but you've already found out more about me than anyone else has in many years," she confessed.

Ophelia blushed and rubbed her neck. She had a talent for rooting out secrets.

"Well, I'm certainly an open book for you, Miss Bellamy." Ophelia said, and leaned in a little more.

The actress was silent, and studied the form of the inspector relaxing on the unmade bed.

"Who are you really, inspector? Not the person you show to people, but the real you." Ruth asked. She thought it was fair, the inspector hadn't even offered her real name, preferring investigator, or captain.

Ophelia stopped smiling after a second. Then she started to turn pale, and a flighty look appeared in her eyes.

"O-oh, it doesn't really matter." She stammered.

Ruth hummed noncommittally, and squinted at the squirming captain. She had been so calm and composed in their previous chats.

Ophelia let silence fill the room.

The actress didn't offer anything else.

"You just wouldn't believe me if I told you, it sounds almost like the plot to a horror movie back home." Ophelia sighed, and shifted to get comfortable.

"A horror movie?" The actress repeated, now interested even more. No one called them movies anymore... Serials dominated the aetherwave.

"Yeah." Ophelia sighed. "Straight out of my worst nightmares." She patted the bed beside her, it was going to be a long story.

Ruth joined her after a moment.

"My name is Ophelia Amana, former botanist, and Hope colonist. I was selected by Spacers Choice to board the Hope for my ability to make things grow." Ophelia said. Her heart sped up, pounding like a jackrabbit in her chest. "I was going to be placed on Terra One, or what's now called Monarch, and I was to build a greenhouse and make the Earth crops grow in the alien soil."

Ruth frowned, the Hope was still lost.

Ophelia kept going after a moments pause.

"But... As you know, the Hope got lost. Very lost." Her heart was pounding faster and harder. Her head swam. "Seventy years late kinda lost." She was going to spill her story, all of it. Ruth couldn't do anything against her with it, if she even believed it.

"I got rescued recently, got thawed out. Scientist said he needed someone with the right amount of grit and brains, and I fit the bill almost perfectly. The botanist part ended up as just a footnote compared to what I do now..."

Ophelia felt a warm hand on her cold, cold shoulder. It felt like a vice was slowly wrapping around her throat.

"I don't do botany, anymore."

She had so much more she could say, so much she wanted to say, but it was like her heart was shattering.

"I'm sorry, but I've got- I've got to go check on something." Ophelia wiped her cheeks and dashed out the bedroom door.

"Investigator, it seems you're ready to leave Eridanos. I can't say I blame you, I'll also be leaving soon." Ruth said, delicately touching Ophelia's arm to get her attention. She had been waiting for the elusive girl to pass by.

Ophelia jumped, and squeaked.

"Ah! Hello, Miss Bellamy!" She stammered, flustering quickly. She had a duffel bag in the crook of her other arm and was on her way back to her home on the Unreliable. "I'm more than ready to take a hot shower on my ship and park out somewhere alone."

Ruth smiled sweetly back at her, and started walking with her.

"You still have yet to tell me about yourself, Ophelia." Ruth chuckled, leaning against her, "I hope you didn't plan on leaving without telling me..."

Ophelia stopped at the ramp to her ship with a defeated sigh.

"I..." She muttered, "I'm no one special, really... Just Ophelia."

"That can't be true, you certainly seemed to have a lot to say last time I asked." Ruth teased. She turned Ophelia's head to face her, and she smiled at the pink dusting her pale cheeks and neck.

Ophelia shook her head.

"I'm just a freelancer now, Miss Bellamy. I run supplies and end problems."

"But how are you fareing, if you are from the Hope, you must be experiencing some culture shock, maybe even..."

Ophelia yelped and shook her head.

She nervously chuckled, "I came to Halcyon with a blanket and a dream, but I woke up so late... My first memories here are less than fond, and my dream has long since been shattered to dust. I woke up without my blanket, and was hurtling towards Terra Two before I could think."

Ruth gave her the same look Max, ADA, and even Zora had given her.

Pity.

"This colony chewed me up and spit me out like a piece of old gum, and it's done the same to you and your sister." Ophelia muttered, leaning closer to the aetherwave star on her arm. "You've got the same chance I had seventy years ago, Ruth, take it before you can't."

Ruth didn't have much to say after that, so she just nodded a few times.

"Goodbye, Ruth. Be careful out there." Ophelia gave her a strained smile. It hurt. It hurt to let go of the star she just met.

She felt a cold gun get pressed into her hands, Ruth giving her a sweet smile.

"You'll need this more than I will, Ophelia. And who knows, maybe you'll be a botanist again." Ruth said. It was the Needler, her personal sidearm. And she was giving it to Ophelia.

The aetherwave star leaned in and gave Ophelia a chaste goodbye kiss, then walked back into the mess of the shipyard.

#ophelia amana #the outer worlds #the captain/ruth bellamy #bear writes

[androgynealienfemme]

"I know what butch is. Butches are not beginner FTMs, except that sometimes they are, but it's not a continuum except when it is. Butch is not a trans identity unless the butch in question says it is, in which case it is, unless the tranny in question says it isn't, in which case it's not. There is no such thing as butch flight, no matter what the femmes or elders say, unless saying that invalidates the opinions of femmes in a sexist fashion or the opinions of elders in an ageist fashion. Or if they're right. But they are not, because butch and transgender are the same thing with different names, except that butch is not a trans identity, unless it is; see above."

-"I KNOW WHAT BUTCH IS", Butch is a Noun, Essays by S. Bear Bergman (2006)

#butch is a noun #s. bear bergman #lesbian #lesbianism #transgender #trans man #butch #butch lesbian #trans butch #transmasculine #gender stuff #trans lit #lesbian lit #this essay fucking rocks #lgbtq+ writing #lgbt writing

[satorustyles]

you can't fall asleep (a kento nanami one shot)

a/n: a nanami version of this one shot! thank you to everyone who liked my first post, there's more to come! <3 -bear

pairing: nanami x fem!reader

warnings: implied smut at the end, but mostly just pure fluff

word count: 1,750

gojo version here!

sukuna version here!

Despite Kento’s busy schedule, he was always the last to fall asleep. He would stay up longer finishing paperwork or answering emails, and there would always be a bottle of beer next to him to help him ease his stress. Not only was he a full-time worker, but he was just recently promoted to a higher position. Which meant higher pay. Longer nights.

Ever since he got the promotion he’s been staying up longer than his usual bedtime, signing papers all while checking his laptop for emails. After dinner, you were almost invisible to him, with his attention solely on his remaining work and you had to wait for your time until he was finished–which was around eleven late in the evening.

“You should go ahead, baby.” He had told you, giving you an apologetic kiss on the lips. He still wore the same suit that he had on, minus the coat and the tie. He couldn’t fall asleep knowing he had unread emails and unchecked paperwork.

And you tried to sleep without him, you really did. But the bed was colder and quieter without him, without his strong arms wrapped around your smaller body and having his warm breath tickling your neck, plus the occasional, sleepy kisses you would get when you were close to falling asleep.

You missed cuddling with Kento before bedtime. You missed waking up to his kisses and groggily telling you how much he loves you and would promise to spend the rest of the evening with you, however you wanted.

But the promotion took him away from you.

You sighed frustratedly as you left your bed, padding towards the kitchen where he was still situated on the island counter, faced with piles of paperwork and a bottle of beer. The light from his laptop screen illuminated his tired features, dark circles underneath his eyes, and his blonde hair in a messy state.

“Nami,” You whined, calling him by the nickname you gave him that he immediately loved to hear. His head was quick to snap in your direction. “S’too much work. Come to bed with me.”

He smiled tiredly at you, and your heart ached at the sight of him. You hated how hard he worked every day, barely getting enough rest that he deserved. Whenever you asked him to take a break, he would shake his head and tell you that he was doing this for the both of you. So he could provide for your own needs as well.

And you hated that you couldn’t help him yet. You were still in school, and the least you could do was wake up before him and prepare his breakfast and make him dinner when the evening comes. But you knew that wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He apologized as he stretched his arm out for you, asking you to come to him. “I just have to finish this, okay? I’m almost done.”

You walked towards him and he looked up at your sleepy face, smiling at how adorable you looked. “Gimme a kiss,” He whispered.

You shook your head. “Not until you get in bed with me, Nami. You can just finish that tomorrow.”

He sighed as he stared back at the papers in front of him, the light coming from his laptop screen already straining his eyes. You were right. This was already too much.

“C’mere.” He told you as he pulled you towards his lap and you obliged. You straddled his legs, facing him, while he did his best to clean up his mess and shut off his pc while ensuring you didn’t fall from his lap. “Thank you for reminding me, angel. If you didn’t come out for me I would have stayed for another hour.”

“You’re overworking yourself. This is too much work, even for someone who was just given a promotion. You’re like a working intern who was given all the heavy load.” You were angry. Not at your boyfriend, but at the fact that his company promoted him to a better position but the work given was somehow a downgrade. It was paperwork and meetings all over again. “I mean, I’m not one to judge, and I certainly have no clue what your responsibilities are, but I know better that you shouldn’t be working way past your eight-hour shift. That’s so unfair.”

Kento sighed and you looked up, worried that your words had upset him. But, you were surprised to see him smiling fondly at you.

“I agree. I really was planning on talking to the supervisors about this. Maybe ask if I could get an assistant so that I could have someone divide the workload.” He replied just as his hands held your waist and pulled you closer to him, keeping you from slipping down his khaki pants.

“I miss falling asleep next to you.” You sighed as you stared up at his tired eyes.

“I know, baby.” He cooed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I know you couldn’t fall asleep without someone next to you. I’m sorry. But you’re right, this is unfair.”

His hand rested against your back and pushed you down to his chest, keeping you there as his other hand grabbed his phone from the counter and began dialing someone.

“Who are you calling?” You questioned, struggling to move your head so you could look up at him since his hand was still on your back, his grip strong as he kept you from moving so much.

“Shh, this will be quick love.” He muttered before kissing your forehead quickly. And so you remained silent. You loved how small you felt in Kento’s hold, his strong arms wrapped around you, feeling the way his chest would rise and fall with every breath he took, inhaling the faint smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and how his hand would slowly start rubbing circles behind your back…

You were slowly dozing off.

“Mr. Yamato, good evening,” Kento spoke, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and you could feel the way it vibrated against your head. “Yes, I am aware of the time. I just wanted to call and let you know that I’ll be taking the day off tomorrow.”

Your ears perked up. He’s asking for a day-off? So unlike him.

“With that, I would also like to discuss further a possible assistant you could give me. I know you trust me enough with the position you have bestowed upon me, but it has been taking too much of my free time and my wife doesn’t like how I still work even when I’m at home.”

Your heart jumped. My wife?? His wife? He called you his wife??

You squirmed underneath his hold but his grip was tighter around you, as if silently asking you to stay put.

“Ah yes, of course. We’ll discuss this further the day after tomorrow. Thank you so much, Mr. Yamato. Have a good night.” He then hung up and threw his phone on the counter.

“Now, where were we?” He sighed in relief, his eyes down at you with a cheeky smile and all you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

“You asked for a day off?”

“Why, yes of course.” He replied nonchalantly, his hands on your sides keeping you steady as you moved to sit up and face him properly. “I told you, you were right. My work was getting too much. And the day off would be a quick recovery for me to get more sleep and spend the rest of the day with you.”

You couldn’t even bother to hide the smile on your face as you excitedly leaned in to kiss your boyfriend square on the lips, catching him off-guard but eventually relaxing with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah? Sounds good, right? A day off with my baby girl.” Kento mumbled against your lips, sighing contentedly. “We’ll sleep in, just order takeout for lunch, and you’ll give me cuddles in the afternoon, and maybe have some more fun…”

His kisses began going downwards as his words trailed off, peppering your throat and collarbone with wet kisses and you sighed at the feel of his tongue tickling your skin. Beneath you, you could feel something hard subtly poking your core. 

You knew Kento was getting needy. It’s been a week since you had sex, and there was his promotion to thank for it. You tried your best to avert his attention, even just for an hour, because you knew you could at least help him with his stress just a little. But he was always adamant about finishing his work.

“I’m so sorry I never got to spend more time with you, y/n.” He sighed, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. “I let this promotion get the best of me. I never even bothered considering that you would need me, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and rubbed his back soothingly. “Nothing to be sorry for, Nami. You were just doing your best. I’m just glad you could at least have a day off to yourself and finally talk with your boss about getting an assistant. I’ve been telling you that since Monday,” You told him and he sighed on your shoulder once again, his arms tightening their hold around your waist and pulling you closer to him, as if you would suddenly disappear from him if he loosened his grip.

He suddenly lifted his head, looking you straight in the eyes. Your heart hammered against his chest at the sudden action and the way his brown eyes stared back at you intensely.

“This time, I’ll be making it up to you.” He growled and you gasped at the sudden change of his demeanor. Before you could reply, his lips were on yours once again, his kisses suddenly becoming needier and hungrier as he gripped your thighs and pulled you up with him, taking you to your shared bedroom.

“Kento…” You sighed against his lips, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep yourself from falling from his hold.

“Shhh, let me take care of you this time, angel.” He muttered when you both finally reached your bedroom. He dropped you on the bed with a soft thud and he was immediately on top of you, capturing your wrists and trapping them above your head. 

“Let Nami make it up to you for those days when he's been busy.” He then gripped your lounge shorts and pulled them downwards, and you knew that you weren’t getting any sleep tonight at all.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #jjk #jjk 2 #nanami fluff #nanami one shot #kento x reader #kento x you #kento x y/n #nanami kento one shot #bear writes

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Thule Kit thoughts

He was 10 when Sebastian won and he knew things were off by the way the Shadow Market was emptier, fae being carted off back to Faerie, Warlocks becoming more and more sick. His dad was more openly scared while also trying to get on Sebastian's good side. Sebastian knew he was a conman and didn't listen, he had more important things to worry about.

Then the warlocks turn to demons, all warlock magic stops and demons, now more prevalent than ever, eat Johnny alive.

Kit's so terrified that his powers explode earlier than usual. He ends up in faerie, scared and alone, when they shut it off. As the Unseelie King goes to kill the Seelie Queen, the Rider's of Mannan see Kit and go after him. He's only saved when the Wild Hunt, with Kieran and Mark, protect him.

They take him in, train him as war kicks off in Faerie. Kit gets closer to Kieran and Mark, he gets hardened by war. The Unseelie King kills the Seelie Queen, Kit learns of his heritage and thinks he should have a say.

Gwyn tells Kit that they don't pick sides in the courts. He tells him that there won't be any sides if he's successful. He gets kicked out but Kieran and Mark follow him.

He works his way through the Unseelie Court. Kieran uses his status where he can and they kill where they can't. Mark tells Kit of his family, Kit's jealous because his only reference is them and the wild hunt. He promises him that when he takes over, he'll open the gates to faerie and reunite him with his family.

After years of fighting, of gathering rogue fae who were never in courts, those who believe in the first heir, Seelie who want Arawn out, and those just interested in what will happen. When they get to the Unseelie King, they have an Army. The war is long and brutal bit eventually Kit wins

He's a just ruler at first, learning more and more about his powers as he harnesses those that he has naturally and ones from combining both crowns. But this is thule, and years of pain, blood and anguish, make Faerie fall under shadow just like in the myth.

They work on breaking through the gates. Kit's ready to face Sebastian, ready to take the shadow realm too, he is the lost herondale after all. When a portal opens up, he wonders what it is when he sees the Seelie Queen. Huh, he thought she was dead?

#kit herondale #thule kit #thule kit herondale #twp #the wicked powers #tda #the dark artifices #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #tmi #the mortal instruments #bear writes #thule #kieran kingson #thule keiran #mark blackthorn #thule mark blackthorn #thule mark #gwyn ap nudd #thule gwyn ap nudd #arawn #the unseelie king #the seelie queen #seelie queen #johnny rook #sebastian morgenstern #thule sebastian morgenstern #thule sebastian #thule johnny rook #thule johnny

[bearwriting]

Gather

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Summary: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and he wants answers.

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: alcohol use, drinking

“Who was he?” you asked as he pulled back onto the freeway.

“Someone very powerful. And, like I said, someone you don’t want to fuck with. He gave up your keys too easily, I don’t like it.”

You shrugged. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I’m gonna try to get some sleep, but wake me up when we get to a motel.”

You balled up your sweatshirt between your head and the car window and fell asleep almost immediately.

Sweeney took that opportunity to scan your sleeping face, the fear from earlier a stone in his stomach. Why was Fear Doirich looking for you? He had said he wanted whatever it was that you had been sent to retrieve for Wednesday, but that was a lie. At least, it was a partial one. The Dark Man was plotting something, Sweeney just knew it, and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Sweeney knew he couldn’t do anything about it now, but he could at the very least do his damnedest to make sure that you were protected.

A few hours later, Sweeney shook you awake. You peered up at him groggily and groaned. “Five more minutes,” you mumbled, turning away from him and pulling your sweatshirt-pillow closer.

He rolled his eyes. “We’re here so you can keep sleepin’. Besides, I already paid for the room so you are not sleeping in this car.”

You made a muffled sound that Sweeney was fairly confident was an impressive string of profanity.

He huffed. “We don’t have time for this. Up you get, let’s go.” He leaned down and pulled you from the car, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Now you were wide awake.

“Put me down!” you snarled, pounding on his back with your fists. “I’m not a child!”

He snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You growled and aimed a kick at his stomach, feeling your foot sink into the soft flesh there. He doubled over, loosening his grip and nearly dropping you, but you managed to land neatly on your feet.

“You are a fuckin’ piece’a work, you know that?” he snapped.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back. “Don’t manhandle me.”

“Then get your fuckin’ ass in gear next time!” He stood to his full height, massaging his stomach and sucking in a breath. “Every day you get on my nerves a little more.”

You glared at him. “No one’s forcing you to be here.”

He shot you a look as he unlocked the door of the motel room. You stepped in, wrinkling your nose at the faint odor.

“Would it kill us to get a halfway decent room every once in a while?” you muttered.

He pretended not to hear you and made his way into the bathroom, gesturing for you to follow.

“Up there,” he said, pointing to the counter. “Shirt off.”

You smirked at him. “If you wanted to get me naked you could’ve just said.”

He snorted. “Needta change your bandages.”

You moved to strip down but paused.

“You all right?” he asked. “I can get the scissors again, but at the rate you’ve been goin’ through clothes ‘m not sure—“

You cut him off. “It’s not that it hurts,” you murmured, twisting gently to your left and then to your right. “It’s that it…doesn’t?”

His red eyebrows shot up. “What?” You hurried to correct yourself. “No, I mean it still hurts, obviously it still hurts, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it feels like it should.”

His brow furrowed. “Lemme take a look.”

You pulled your shirt over your shoulders and presented your back to him. Sweeney carefully peeled back the layers of bandages. He sucked in a startled breath and you could see his surprise in the mirror on the wall.

“What is it?” you demanded.

“This is…it shouldn’t look like this,” he said slowly. “I mean, it still doesn’t look good, but considering your flesh was ribbons two days ago?” His eyes met yours in the mirror. “It shouldn’t look like this.”

You twisted to see your back in the mirror and an uneasy feeling settled over you. Sweeney was right, it still didn’t look great, but the deep lacerations across your back looked as though they were at least a few weeks healed, not just a few days.

You turned to Sweeney with wide eyes and were met with an equally surprised stare. He reached out, bracing a hand against your cheek, and gently pulled away the bandage on your face. It was the same. Far more along in healing than it had any right to be.

“What the hell is this?” you demanded.

He held up his hands. “How in the fuck am I s’posed to know?”

“I don’t know! You’re the leprechaun that’s supposedly thousands of years old, I figured if one of us was gonna know what the fuck is going on, it would be you!” You were fairly shouting now, but Sweeney could see the fear that was beginning to creep into your expression.

He shook his head. “I’ve seen a lot of things, love, but nothing like this. You’re healing miles faster than you should be.”

You chewed on your lower lip. “There’s gotta be someone we can ask.”

Sweeney shrugged. “First person I can think of is Circe.”

You shook your head. “I dunno, I don’t know that she would be able to help us with this. I don’t know how much she can help with things that aren’t a direct result of magic.”

He looked at you incredulously. “Look at yer back an’ tell me magic isn’t involved somehow.”

Now it was your turn to shrug. “I don’t know, but honestly? As long as I’m not dying from blood loss or infection, this is not at the top of my list of priorities.”

“So what is?” Sweeney demanded.

You blinked. “Are you serious? The weird bitch that had my car? The one that had you about to shit your britches?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Who was he?”

Sweeney squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose like he could will your questions away.

“Sweeney,” you demanded.

“He’s someone you don’t want to fuck with,” was his only response.

You stared at him in disbelief. “That cannot be your actual answer. Everyone we interact with is someone we don’t want to fuck with but none of them have ever had you acting like this.”

The ginger giant refused to meet your eyes. You sandwiched his face between your hands and made him look at you. “Sweeney. Who was he?”

His grass-green eyes looked at you pleadingly.

“Don’t make me smack you,” you threatened.

He sighed and pulled his face from your grasp. “You know how you won’t refer to Gr — to the old man by name? This is the same. Names have power, and that…that thing doesn’t need any more than he already has, just like the old man. We’ll call him the Dark Man. S’what his name translates to anyway.”

You looked at him expectantly and he took a deep breath.

Sweeney spoke haltingly. “F—the Dark Man, he…he’s fear itself, as it were. Or one of its iterations at least. He used to…take people. He was a servant of the Faerie Queen and he has…an ability, we’ll call it, to strip people of their will.”

“To make them do what he wants,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

Sweeney nodded. “Many have followed him, but few, if any, have ever come back. The Dark Man, the Black Druid, he’s gone by many different names. He feeds on fear and doubt.”

You scratched your chin thoughtfully. “So what could he want from us? Like…I’ve never actually heard of this guy, not in the way we’ve heard of the old man or Czernobog or anyone else. He can’t actually be that powerful, can he? There’s not that many stories about him, there’s no way—“

“Drop it,” Sweeney said sharply.

You blinked, startled at his tone. Usually, you would immediately be inclined to argue with him or to keep poking the bear, but something in his eyes, something that looked an awful lot like real fear, held you back.

“Fine. Whatever.” You turned your back to him. “I’m going to get food. Come with me or don’t.”

He put a warm hand on your shoulder. “You need rest. I’ll go get us some burgers.”

You looked up at him. “Can we get chicken?”

He chuckled. “Can those eyes get any bigger?”

You stuck out your lower lip for added effect and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “All right, we passed a KFC not too far from here. I’ll go, you rest. Don’t leave this room and don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

You saluted sarcastically. “Yessir.”

He rolled his eyes and left the room, grabbing your keys. The door shut behind him, the lock sliding into place, and you were alone in the dank room. You flipped through the channels on the grainy television until you landed on something that seemed even vaguely interesting.

Shucking off your grimy jeans, you dug through the duffel until you came up with a pair of relatively clean sweatpants and what looked like one of Sweeney’s shirts. You pulled on the sweats and tugged the shirt over your head, rolling up the sleeves until your hands were visible.

You flopped onto the bed, wincing when the wounds on your back twinged in protest, and sighed heavily. The bed wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was the best you’d had in a bit. At the very least, it was significantly better than being stuck in whatever shithole the Jotnar had you in. Sitting up, you pulled the pillows and blankets from their positions, building a nest around yourself, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. Then, you spied the phone on the nightstand.

You dialed the front desk. “Hi!” you said brightly. “Yes, everything is fine. I was just wondering if it would be possible to have some extra pillows brought to room fifteen? Two or three, if you wouldn’t mind, and an extra blanket if you can. Great, thank you!”

A few minutes later, you had the extra pillows and blanket. You arranged everything into a nest on your bed, propping yourself up with a pillow so you could see the episode of Kitchen Nightmares that was playing on the old, staticky television. You were determined to stay awake until the Irishman returned with your chicken tenders in tow, but as the minutes ticked by you found it more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. You didn’t even notice yourself fall asleep.

Sweeney shouldered the door open, balancing the boxes in one hand. “Here’s yer damn chicken, you—“

He stopped short when he saw you curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows, fast asleep and breathing softly. Your hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions, and the circles under your eyes were dark as bruises, but you were asleep. Properly asleep, not passed out from pain or crammed into a car. He knew he should wake you and make you eat something, but you looked so small and fragile that he couldn’t bring himself to disturb you.

Sweeney turned off the TV and slid into the empty bed. Staring up at the blank ceiling, his mind ran a mile a minute. He still couldn’t wrap his head around why Fear Doirich would have taken an interest in you, and it made his skin crawl. The Dark Man had said that he’d wanted whatever it was that you had been sent to retrieve for Grimnir, but that wasn’t the truth. Or at least, it wasn’t the whole truth. He didn’t know how he knew, but he could feel in his gut that there was more to what the Dark Man wanted.

And then there was the matter of your wounds. How were you healing the way you were? There was no way this was occurring naturally, but Sweeney could think of no time between when you’d shown up at his door on the verge of death and now where you would have been able to see a healer. He’d been by your side the entire time and there was nothing and no one that could have done this, but there had to be some sort of external force. He wracked his brain, trying to recall anything that you might have said or done that would indicate that something about you was more than human, but he came up empty.

The leprechaun slept, although fitfully. He found himself waking almost every hour, sitting upright and sweating, eyes darting frantically around the room until they landed on you and he was sure that there was no immediate danger and you were still asleep. That you were still safe.

The next morning, you busied yourself with the coffeepot in the motel room’s dinky kitchenette. The events from the previous day swirled through your mind and you were so preoccupied that you hadn’t noticed Sweeney had woken and was watching you from the counter.

You started when you turned and saw him, almost dropping the coffeepot, and scowled. “You look like shit,” you told him, taking in his bloodshot eyes.

He snorted. “You should look in a mirror, fuck.”

“Did you sleep at all?” you asked.

He made a noncommittal sound. “Here and there.”

You hummed and pointed to a roadmap that you had laid out on the table. “Okay, so the old man’s trinket is in Kansas City, about two and a half hours away from where we are now in Joplin. If we hit the road in the next hour, we can get it and then we’ll be in Kentucky by late tomorrow morning or early afternoon at the latest.”

You set a mug of watery instant coffee down in front of him and he lifted it to his lips, taking a sip and wincing before sliding a flask from his pocket and emptying the contents into the mug. You rolled your eyes.

“I think we should give it a bit before we go get whatever it is that he sent you for,” Sweeney said, eyeing you like he knew you weren’t going to take to that idea at all.

Sure enough, you looked at him incredulously. “Absolutely not. I want to get this shit out of my hands and I want to get paid.”

He glared at you. “You have the Dark Man after you because supposedly he wants whatever it is that you have and the Jotnar are after you for the same reason and because you stole from them. It might be a good idea to lay low for a little.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason to get rid of it?” you asked. “If it gets returned to the old man, it’s not my problem anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes and grunted. “And if you get killed along the way?”

You set your jaw. “I won’t.”

“You’re so sure?”

“I’ve been pretty lucky the last couple of days,” you pointed out. “I’m willing to bet it’ll hold.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in something that really just amounts to chance,” he muttered.

You grinned. “That’s what I’ve got you for, isn’t it? Don’t you do that every day?”

He chuckled darkly. “That’s not how it works.”

You shrugged. “Either way, I think between the two of us we’ve got enough luck to get us to the other side in one piece.”

He sighed heavily. “Fine, but if you get me killed, I’m haunting you.”

You smiled. “Seems like a fair trade.”

Within the next half hour, you were fed and on the road.

The drive, surprisingly, was relatively peaceful. You bickered about radio stations and music choices, argued about directions, and tried to play road games, which then devolved into a shouting match in which you almost swung on him over his interpretation of the rules for the alphabet game. But nothing came after you. You sighed and patted the dashboard of the car.

“Thanks, darlin’,” you murmured.

Sweeney looked at you. “Talking to the car? And they say I’m the one that’s lost it.”

“You’re just jealous,” you shot back.

“Of who? You or the car?”

“Open to interpretation.”

He swatted at you with a meaty paw and you leaned your seat back as far as it would go, laughing.

He mimicked your laugh in a high tone. “You’re not gonna be laughing when I run us off the road,” he sang.

You sat back up and pouted at him. “You wouldn’t do that to me, you’d be lost without me.”

His eyes flicked to you for a moment before his attention was back on the road. “Yeah,” he said softly, “I would.”

Taken aback by the change in his energy, your eyes darted around for something to change the subject. In the signs whipping past, you saw that you were about half an hour outside of Kansas City, where you had utilized a bus station locker as your storage. You’d lost the key when the Jotnar had caught up to you, throwing it as hard as you could into the Arkansas River, but you were confident that even though your knowledge of spells was limited, you had one to unlock things. And even if you didn’t, you knew how to pick a lock.

You turned to Sweeney. “If we don’t get something to eat soon, I’m going to do something to end up on national news,” you threatened.

“You’re the one that’s having us make this detour, you can wait a couple hours,” he replied.

You grumbled something under your breath about stupid rat bastards and he pretended not to hear.

When you arrived at the station in Kansas City, you shifted your body so you were facing Sweeney. “Can you please, for the love of all things sacred and holy, wait here?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance. I’m not letting you go in there by yourself.”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I can get in and out without anyone seeing me. Please, Sweeney. In and out, I promise.”

He shook his head again. “No. What if it’s a trap? What if they’re waiting for you?”

“Then I’ll scream.”

“I won’t be able to hear you from out here,��� he countered.

You huffed. “If I’m not back in this seat in fifteen minutes, you can barge in and rescue me, okay?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Ten minutes.”

“Oh my god, fine. Ten minutes.”

He seemed slightly more satisfied with this, but still unhappy. “At least take this with you,” he said, taking a pendant from his neck and placing it over your head. His fingers brushed your collarbones and seemed to linger for a fraction of a second longer than they needed to, making your cheeks flush. You inspected it and found that it was a small clay pendant with knotwork molded into its face.

You looked at him questioningly but he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s the Dara knot,” he said quietly. “The shield knot. We…we used to use it for protection.”

You wanted to say something, but your tongue was leaden in your mouth. You were overwhelmed with a surge of affection or the giant idiot in the passenger seat of your car and, unable to speak, you settled for patting him on the knee. “I’ll be back soon,” you promised.

He looked at you with a look in his eyes that made your chest tighten. “Be safe,” he murmured.

You climbed out of the car and pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt as you made your way inside the station. Your eyes scanned the rows of steel storage lockers until the landed on the one you were looking for. You made a lap around the station before approaching, eyes bouncing from face to face and scanning every nook and cranny, every corner where someone might hide. Satisfied that it was safe, you approached the locker as casually as you could.

The initial aura that hung around it seemed undamaged and you breathed a sigh of relief. Running your fingers around the edges of the door, you felt for the wards you had set. These, too, remained unbroken.

You whispered a few words and the door popped open. The contents within remained undisturbed and your legs jellied with relief. The canvas backpack was crammed into the back, same as you had left it, and you snatched it from the locker, rummaging around and doing a mental inventory. All of your charms and amulets seemed to be present and accounted for, but you kept digging until your fingers closed around what you were looking for. The rough wooden rod was there at the bottom, its warmth seeping into your hand and the carved runes pressing against your skin. You released a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Gungnir was safe. You wrapped it in a silk cloth that had been tucked into one of the outer compartments of the bag and placed it back inside alongside a small number of vials and herbs before quickly making your way back out to the parking lot, conscious of the fact that your ten minutes was almost up.

Sweeney saw you coming and unlocked the doors. Tossing the bag into the footwell, you slid into the passenger seat and he immediately reached for the bag to begin rummaging through until he produced the cloth bundle. He unwrapped it and his jaw fell open.

“Are you serious? The trinket you were talking about was Gungnir?”

You nodded and he scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Christ, no wonder they were after you! You had Gungnir.”

You looked at him reproachfully. “Don’t take that tone with me.”

“Tone? You had one of the most powerful weapons on the planet in a bus locker and you’re worried about my tone? There’s no way we make it to Jack’s without dying, this might as well be a beacon for everything within a hundred miles!”

You flashed him a grin. “Ah, but therein lies the beauty of this old girl!” you crowed, smacking the dashboard. “She’s warded! Nigh impossible to find.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure about this? Even with something this powerful?”

You chewed your lip. “Like 87% sure.”

His eyes bulged and he made a disbelieving sound. You glared at him. “I’ll say it again, no one’s forcing you to stick around,” you snapped. “If you don’t like it, no one’s making you put your ass on the line. I can get there just fine by myself.”

Sweeney didn’t say a word, but tightened his grip on the wheel and stared straight ahead.

“That’s what I thought,” you muttered.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he shot back.

“No, but it does mean you have to stop bitching. If I was forcing you to come with me I’d let you complain all you wanted, but let me remind you that you were the one that attached himself to me. So let me do what I need to do and shut the hell and fuck up about it.” You were beginning to get angry.

He didn’t answer but sulked in the driver’s seat. You rolled your eyes and flipped through the radio stations, settling on one that was blaring Alanis Morissette.

Sweeney groaned. “For chrissakes, can’t we listen to something else?”

“No. I’m not listening to your bullshit for the next ten hours.”

He made a face. “So I have to listen to yours?”

“It’s my car!”

“What happened to your rule about the driver picking the music?” he whined.

“When I’m driving,” you said, jabbing a finger at your chest for emphasis. “Otherwise it’s passenger DJ rules.”

“That feels rigged,” he grumbled. He opened his mouth to make what you could only assume was another smartass comment, but his eyes locked on something in the rearview mirror and his face paled. His hand shot out and gripped your thigh.

The sudden shift in his energy made you nervous. “What? What is it?”

He didn’t answer, but pressed his foot against the gas and the car leapt forward. You twisted in your seat to get a glimpse of what might’ve been after you. Three massive goat-headed figures were charging up the road after you, and they were closing the gap.

“Sweeney, what the fuck are those?” you demanded, unable to keep the tremor from your voice.

He swore. “Bocánaigh. He must’ve sent them, but I don’t know how—“

His words were drowned out by an earsplitting wail that turned your blood to ice. Something landed on the roof of the car with a thud and Sweeney jerked the steering wheel in an effort to throw it off, spewing profanities.

“Bran, the last time I saw one of these was…fuck it was millennia ago. Where did he find them?” Sweeney was talking more to himself than to you, but you still shook your head.

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen—“

Before you could finish your thought, there was a tremendous bang as one of the front tires exploded. The car swerved dangerously, but Sweeney managed to wrestle it to the shoulder of the road, narrowly avoiding colliding with a telephone pole.

Your eyes were squeezed shut and you white-knuckled your seat as you chanted every protection spell you could remember, sifting through the recesses of your mind for even the smallest thing that Circe had taught you that might help. You didn’t know what else to do.

“Is there any iron in here?” Sweeney demanded.

Your chanting stuttered. “Do I have any what?”

“Iron!” he bellowed. “Iron, do you have iron anywhere in this car?”

You blinked. “Horseshoe in the glovebox. Everything that was in the trunk is gone.”

He clenched his jaw. “It’ll have to do. Stay here, stay in this car, and pray to whoever the fuck might be listening that the enchantments Circe put on this thing hold.” He yanked the horseshoe from the glovebox, gripping it like makeshift brass knuckles in his fist, and launched himself from the car with a howl.

You returned to your incantations, doing your best to block the awful sounds. Every time one of Sweeney’s blows landed and the iron made contact with the flesh of the goat-headed men, you could hear their flesh sizzle and their screams of rage. You heard a nasty thwack followed by Sweeney grunting in pain as they head-butted him and did their damnedest to gore him with the curved and cruelly pointed horns that arced out of their heads.

You wracked your brain for something, anything, that you could do aside from sitting on your ass and muttering spells that may or may not have been working.

Sweeney’s head hit the ground with a sickening thud and you swallowed. Fuck it, you thought. If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging. You kicked open the car door, armed only with Sweeney’s pocketknife and a snarl.

You howled at the top of your lungs, slinging every word of Greek protection that Circe had taught you. The beasts turned to you, yellow eyes narrowing. Your heart picked up in your chest but you held fast, reciting the verses over and over, but they had no effect.

You opened your mouth to try again, but what came out was not Greek. It wasn’t any language that you knew and it certainly was not part of the meager arsenal Circe had armed you with, but the words flowed from your lips as though you had known them for years.

"Ceathrar a leag an tsúil, fear agus bean, buachaill agus cailín, triúr gortach, an tAthair, an Mac, agus an Spiorad Naomh!”*

The Bocánaigh hissed and cringed at your words and you moved towards them, more of that familiar-yet-unfamiliar language rolling off your tongue like you had never known another.

You picked up the horseshoe and began smashing your way through the three of them, your words never faltering, never slowing, until eventually the beasts fled.

After a moment, when you were sure the danger had gone, you hauled yourself to Sweeney’s slumped form against the side of the car.

“Hey dummy,” you said, crouching in front of him. “You okay?”

He groaned and rose to his feet, swaying slightly before sitting back down heavily. “I might be concussed.”

You nodded. “Yeah, you took a few slams to the noggin there. You hit the ground pretty hard, too. Other’n that though it doesn’t look like they did too much damage. Looks like your luck is holding.” You flashed him a grin, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Instead, his eyes skated over your face, suspicion knitting his brow.

“Yeah, those things might as well just be specters that pack a punch, can’t do much damage to someone like me.” His voice was distant, he was distracted. “You, though…there’s barely a scratch on ya. And what the hell was that? Where’d you learn Gaeilge like that?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t even know that that’s what that was. I was trying to recite a Greek incantation, but that came out instead. I guess I got lucky.” You paused as you realized what you said. “Hey now, see? I told you you had enough luck for the both of us.”

Sweeney shook his head. “No, that wasn’t luck, love. That was…that was something else. I think we need to have words with Wednesday.”

You hummed. “Fine, but we need to get him his thing first. Get in the passenger seat, princess, I’m driving the rest of the way.”

He made a face but did as you said.

“C’mon, up you get,” you grunted, pulling one of his arms over your shoulders. He groaned as you pulled him to his feet and led him around the car, gingerly lowering him into the passenger seat. “Big baby,” you teased.

He glowered at you, but there was no heat behind it. “I did just get the living daylights beat out of me.”

You laughed. “My knight in shining armor. We’ll stop and get you some Advil on the way, yeah?”

“An’ a bottle of whiskey.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Yessir, a bottle of Jamo should get you right as rain.”

You managed to make it the rest of the way to Knott County without incident, the ride passing much smoother once Sweeney got his Jameson and his painkillers. You sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever it was that seemed to be looking out for you. Helping the ginger giant out of the car, the two of you made your way into the bar.

Instantly, the hair on the back of your neck stood on end as you were assaulted with the sounds and smells of Jack’s Crocodile Bar. You hated this place. As often as it had been the site of many rowdy nights and raucous fun, it was also the place where you had functionally sold your soul to the Devil. A devil with one eye and no care for anyone but himself.

You had hoped that you would have some time before the old man saw you, desperately needing a pint before whatever was about to happen, but it seemed that your luck did not extend that far. A familiar voice called your name, and it made your skin crawl.

The old man beckoned you to where he sat with a wide grin. Sweeney took the seat on his left and you took the one on his right. Wednesday had already ordered for you, a pint of lager sitting beside his glass of what you could only assume was Jack Daniels. The man had few vices, but apparently Tennessee whiskey was one of them. You eyed the pint glass suspiciously, not trusting anything he put in front of you.

“I see we have one more joining us,” he said jovially, clapping Sweeney on the shoulder. “Mad Sweeney! I wasn’t expecting you for another two days. Oh, this is delightful.” The Irishman grunted and flagged down the bartender and a few moments later a rum and coke was on the bar in front of him. You could see a muscle in his jaw feather as he grit his teeth.

“I’m not particularly in the mood for pleasantries,” you said coldly, reaching into your pack and producing the cloth bundle that held Gungnir. Wednesday’s cold eyes brightened and he reached for it, but you snatched it from his reach. “Payment first.”

He sighed. “Always business, never pleasure. When was the last time you sat and enjoyed a drink with an old friend?”

“We are not friends,” you sneered. “You are my employer and I am your employee. This is a business relationship.”

He pouted and then gave you a knowing look that made you want to poke out his other eye. “We know you’re more than that now, don’t we?”

“They were held by the Jotnar for almost a week,” Sweeney cut in. “Where were you?”

The old man looked at him coldly before producing a fat envelope from inside his jacket. “Payment, as agreed.” He turned to Sweeney. “And you! Let me buy you another round. Consider it thanks for bringing my favorite employee back to me in one piece.” His words oozed sarcasm. It made you itch.

“Weren’t for lack of trying on their part,” Sweeney muttered.

You cocked your head. “Yeah, about that. Some guy’s after your stick.”

Wednesday chuckled. “You’ll have to be more specific than that. There’s plenty of people that would love to get their hands on this.”

“Tall, dark, radiates fear? Ring any bells?” You were losing what little patience you had.

He shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“The Dark Man,” Sweeney snapped, clearly no more in the mood for games than you were.

Wednesday’s face remained impassive, but his eyes widened. Just a fraction, but it was enough. It wasn’t fear, but at the very least he was unsettled hearing the name.

“The Black Druid?” His voice was careful, measured. He knew something that he wasn’t telling you.

Something new and different, you thought bitterly, but you nodded. “He stole my car and seemed pretty keen on finding this.”

Wednesday’s face pinched and he sighed. “The Dark Man isn’t after this, I’m afraid. He’s after you.”

Your face paled and Sweeney gripped the glass he was holding so tightly that it shattered.

“What? What in the hell could he want with me?” you asked.

He sipped at his whiskey. “I believe you have something that he wants.”

You stared at him, mouth agape. “What could I possibly, possibly fucking have that he would want? I didn’t even know who he was two days ago!”

The old man didn’t answer, merely gazed at you with an indecipherable expression. “I’d be very careful if I were you,” he said simply, before downing the rest of his drink and taking his leave before you could so much as blink.

The two of you stared after him, dumbfounded. “Great, we’ve got more questions than we had when he got here and he left us with the tab,” you said, scowling at your untouched pint.

Sweeney knocked back a shot. “Wish I could say I was surprised.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder and pulled you from your seat. “C’mon, let’s do what we do best.”

You looked up at him. “Get shithoused?”

He knocked back another shot and slammed the glass against the wooden surface of the bar. “Get shithoused,” he grinned.

That was how, several hours later, you ended up standing on top of the bar, belting “Mr. Brightside” at the top of your lungs. Sweeney watched you with a smile on his face as you led the entire bar through the chorus.

The song finished and you swept your arms wide, a huge grin plastered on your face. You moved to take a bow and pitched too far forward almost immediately. The world fell out from under you as you toppled from the bar, but you never hit the concrete floor. Warm arms encircled you and you found yourself gazing into a familiar pair of green eyes.

“I think it might be time for us to go, love,” Sweeney said.

You looked up at him and giggled. “Awh, we can’t stop now! The party’s just getting started!”

He chuckled and set you on your feet, steadying you as you swayed. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we need to bow out. Before you split your skull.”

He pulled you out the door and you pouted. “Can’t believe my king is telling me the party’s over. Y’know, if you’d acted like this before Mag Rath we might not’ve lost.”

At your words, Sweeney’s blood turned to ice. “Wh-what did you just say?”

Something in your eyes had shifted. There was a wild and determined look in them now as you held up your hands. “Look, don’t get pissy with me. All’s I’m saying is if we’d been more careful, Donall wouldn’t’ve—“

“No. What do you mean ‘before Mag Rath’? How would you know anything about that battle?”

You flicked his nose. “I was there, dummy. I led your battalion like you aaaaasked and you still booked it. Not that I blame you, honestly. That shit was horrific.”

Sweeney stared at you like he had never seen you before. A memory flickered at the back of his mind.

“Go!” you bellowed. “Go, I’ll hold them off!” You raised your arms wide and a gust of wind ripped across the field, forcing Donall’s men back.

He blinked, his mind reeling. His lieutenant…

No. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been. That was almost two thousand years ago. That wasn’t you.

And yet…and yet. He couldn’t deny the magic that ran through you. The way the Irish incantations had pulled themselves from you like you had always known them. The way you were healing faster than you had any right to.

He grabbed you by the shoulders.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you?”

That wild look in your eyes cleared and you stared at him in confusion. “I’m me? Sweeney, what? You’ve known me for years, you know—“

“Who are you?” he bellowed. “How do you know about Mag Rath?”

You flinched and backed away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice shaking. “I don’t know what Mag Rath is. Sweeney, please, you’re scaring me.”

He stared at you, his expression frantic. “What about what you just said? About us losing and Donall…” he trailed off. You were looking at him with so much fear written on your face it made his chest ache. “Do you remember what you just said to me?” he asked slowly.

“I…I don’t…I fell off the bar and you caught me and then we were outside and then you were yelling at me.” You sounded like you were on the verge of tears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He gripped his hair in his fists. You didn’t remember. You didn’t remember what you had just said to him, you didn’t remember fighting at his side. And he didn’t remember you. Why didn’t he remember you?

“What did you do before you worked for Wednesday?” he barked.

“I-I dunno. I don’t remember what I did, I don’t remember what my life was.” You were crying now. “Before Wednesday, everything is blank.”

He knew this. You had told him this before, that Wednesday had found you wandering through northern Minnesota, half-frozen and with no memory to speak of. But now…he had to wonder. Did Wednesday happen upon you by chance? Or had he lied? Knowing the old man, the latter was far from impossible or even unlikely.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I think we need to get some answers,” he murmured against your hair. “But first, let’s get you to bed.”

*"Four who set the eye, man and woman, boy and girl, three sick, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!"

tagged: @imaginethatneathuhpartdos @kind-wolf

#mad sweeney imagine #mad sweeney x reader #mad sweeney reader insert #american gods imagine #american gods x reader #american gods reader insert #bear writes

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: DAI | Pairing: Solavellan | Rating: Explicit (cunnilingus)

Her fingers thrum against the wooden windowsill as she gapes through glass, rain smattering against the pane. A million raindrops reflect her glazed over eyes, slipping slowly in streaks as lightning ripples across the sky and the thunder rumbles down to her toes. Sarya sighs. It’s the third day in a row for a storm and she wants to be out in it. But not really in it. There’s much to do. Not enough done.

Long fingers reach out to still her own and his other hand wraps around her waist. He kisses her neck. It’s near her chin, that sweet spot that makes her tingle and chime. And she hums a sigh of delight as those kisses, like rivulets, streak down her neck. His lips, they are the lightning under her skin. Thunder in her belly.

“You seem restless,” he says.

“I’m itching to get outside. It’s been raining this whole time and now there’s a storm. We have shit to do. And now there’s—” He’s kissing her shoulder, pushing the fabric of the tunic away with his chin as he goes. Her eyes close and she centers herself. “Oh, this—this is a welcome distraction.”

Solas’ breath leaves an invisible mark on her skin as he chuckles. It burns bright somewhere—everywhere all at once.

“I am glad I can help in some way.”

“Help? You are a gift from the gods, I'm convinced.”

A soft chuckle.

His lips trail back up her neck and she shudders as another thunderclap shakes the shack; shivers down her spine. He lingers again near her jaw. He nibbles and kisses while his hands wander her body.

“You aren’t restless?” she asks.

“Never when you are around.”

But she doesn’t believe him. He fidgets with his hems too much and his eyes glaze over in pockets of stillness, same as hers. He gets lost to her in thoughts or dreams or stories not meant for sharing except to the spirits residing in his mind. She knows when she’s left behind on one of his internal adventures but she will never subject herself to the self-titled unwelcome tagalong.

“Hmm,” she hums an acknowledgment.

His fingers glide down her arms as she watches lightning strike a nearby tree. He pauses. It cracks, real loud and is pulled to the earth, enveloped in a pool of rainwater. Whispers of awe spill from their lips.

He sweeps back her hair and returns to kissing. Then places his lips against each and every freckle he can on her shoulder. Kisses as infinite as the rain smattering against the glass. He dusts his fingers back up her arm, caresses her chest and pulls the laces free at the top of her tunic. The fabric gives way, uncovering secrets as it goes. Scars, more freckles, soft skin, and stretch marks. He kisses it all.

“What do you wish for?” he whispers as the tunic falls off her shoulder completely. It gathers at her waist, held in place by her hips.

“Right now? Well that’s you of course,” she tells him.

“In what way?”

He kisses her chest, all the way across and then down the curve of her side and up again. Feather light and soft, tempo to match the patter pat pat of the rain against the window. She swallows, the words of what she wanted to say lost somewhere in a breath caught at the back of her throat.

“Every way,” she sputters.

She means it too, not just in body but in spirit—in soul. Know him from the ins and the outs and the layers between here and there. Because she can never quite fully understand him but gods be damned if she doesn’t try. His answers come with every question she asks. Giving everything and almost nothing, a mysterious something always veils her desire of knowing and she’s unsure if the veil belongs to her or him. But even in that, she still wants all of him, secrets and unsecrets alike.

He chuckles into her skin. “Like this?” His hands slip past the laces of her trousers, tip of his finger placing just a hint of pressure on her clit.

“Mmm, and I can think of some others.”

Her hand stills his and she pulls his fingers up to her lips, kissing the tiny scars on his knuckles. He’s so willing to please in this manner. It is easy for him.

“Name them.” His voice is a challenge.

She drops his hand, skims her fingers up his arm and places her palm on his shoulder. She squeezes, firm. “I would have you kneel before me and worship me with that wonderful tongue of yours.” Because it’s not enough to have his fingers and lips caressing every inch of her skin already.

His brow flicks up. “Worship?”

She nods. “I am the Herald of Andraste after all.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

And he lowers himself with the slightest pressure from her hand. Wears a smirk as his fingers curl around the top of the fabric of her trousers. He tugs. Shuffles them down. Stares up at her with eyes of admiration. As if she were a natural marvel, rivaling the awe of lighting striking a tree that’s pulled to earth.

He shoves her clothes away.

Leaning forward, a breath at her entrance and she groans under the warmth of his tongue. Just one lick then he says, “is this what you want?”

“Yes,” she says. “And more.”

“More?”

Another swipe of his tongue. Earnest yet languid and lingering. There’s doubt that she will outlast his dutiful tongue. Doubt is confirmed when he reaches under her thigh and hooks it over his shoulder. One, two, then a tantalizing third lick. A hesitant fourth swipe and his tongue stills, eliciting a whined protest. Another crack of thunder and electricity lights up her body. A shock straight to her core.

“Too much?” he asks, the magic buzzing through her limbs.

“Not enough,” she rasps, both enchanted and dizzy from his use of a spell. “It makes sense but I didn’t think. Didn’t realize—”

She stops short when his tongue dances along her clit.

That he could bring the storm inside.

Commands replace ruminations as his tongue oscillates the highs and lows of her pleasure.

More. There. Yes, good. Right there. Keep going. Don’t stop.

A zap of his magic makes her squirm. But his nails dig into her outer thighs, face obscured from her view and she grasps for his head and down to his ears then finally settles at the base of his neck. He inserts one finger. Pumps in and slides out. Repeats it again, curling just slightly while driving deeper.

“Godsfuck!” Another rumble of thunder and she whispers her next demand. “Solas. Keep it right there. Just like that.”

But his little disobedience of adding another finger and upping the tempo, just barely—maybe half a beat, has her questioning if she wants to be in charge of this at all. Closing her eyes and chin sinking to her chest, all efforts of demands become hushed, almost wordless whispers lost in the scattered silences proffered by the storm. She lets out a low moan. He murmurs something in elvhen and she understands the fragments of praise.

With proper propitiation, tongue in tandem with lightning touch, she disintegrates in undulations against his lips, his nose, his hand.

“Solas—“

The slip of his name in a chant off her tongue intermingles with the continuous downpour and she repeats it like she’s the penitent one after all and he—he is the god.

Closing her eyes, she forgets she is body and only knows her soul when he fucks her with his fingers and she loses self-control. Numb and spent and suspended between what’s real and what’s fade, Solas breathes and offers a kiss on her inner thigh.

“You are marvelous,” he murmurs, kissing down her leg. A peck on her calf and he utters more praises, fingers dancing along her skin.

“What else,” she says in a shaky breath.

“And I love you.”

“Mmm, I’ve noticed.” She slides her leg off his shoulder and rests her heel against his chest.

He snatches her ankle and kisses her toes and a giggle spills from her lips, breaking the illusion of any power she thought she held here. He plants her toes on the ground and rises so they're on equal footing. Hand against the small of her back, he tugs her in close and she stares into the depths of his clouded sky eyes before he covers her mouth with his lips.

Lighting exposes their silhouettes as he pushes her up against the wall, legs naturally clinging to his waist as his kisses fall to her neck and he seats himself inside of her. Breath on her chin and he rocks his hips and she thinks this is the closest she’ll get to understanding and knowing and adventuring with him in his internal world.

And she thinks—thinks—

A groan of thunder and rumble in his throat, she clings to his neck as he drives any thought of thinking from her mind. There’s only body—only feeling and two souls colliding in a rundown shack in the middle of a storm.

—

AO3

#bear writes #trying to see what’s salvageable in my wips #anyway here’s this #solarya #solavellan #spicy #solavellan fanfic #writing solavellan smut in 2024 wasn’t on my bingo card but here we are

[blushblushbear]

Hi, good to have you back!

Okay so hear me out- Double proposals. Their going to propose to their wonderful S/O when they find out we had the same thing in mind. Like we both get on one knee and both end up whipping out rings? What's their reaction?

A headcanon with anyone you think would have most reaction to it

THIS ENDED UP BEING A LOT SO I'M PUTTING IT IN A READ MORE AHHHH

Nimh: He is so so flustered. He was actually low key mentally preparing for you to say no so the fact that YOU were already planning on asking HIM??? He's gonna need to sit down, the room is spinning and his heart is fluttery

Also I picture him asking on a picnic date.

Volks: He's stunned. Like actually just staring at you in disbelief. He'd SAY he knew you were gonna say yes (you had to at this point, ya know?) but part of him was really worried that you didn't actually want to. Or if you DID want to, you didn't want it as much as him, and he hates being the one who cares more (make him feel too vulnerable) (also I feel like he'd ask you at a waterfall???)

He plays it cool (if a bit stammery and flustered) while around you but rest assured when he's in bed later that night he is so excited and giddy and relieved-- he couldn't stop smiling AND NO ONE CAN KNOW

Kelby: He's shocked but like one of those drunk people who got showed some dope street magic. He's so pumped but also can't believe cause NO WAY! OH NO WAY! YOU WERE GONNA PROPOSE?? /HE/ WAS GONNA PROPOSE!!! HAHAHA OH MAN NO WAY!!! later he says that he wished in that moment that he'd told you 'jinx, you owe me a soda' (he asks you at your guys' favorite park, but he waits till sundown to make it extra romantic)

Eli: So this old school romantic fucker made it super obvious he was gonna propose. He showed up that evening on a horse dressed like a prince. And didn't even bat an eye that you were also dressed like royalty. He whisks you away for an evening of cheesy romance but just before he pops the question he actually looks deep into your eyes and gets all poetically sincere. When you smirk and pull out your ring and say "you were gonna ask the same thing" he smirks back with "had a feeling you were going to-- I love you, but I couldn't be beaten to the punch, darling! You understand! NOW PUT A RING ON IT BEYONCE AND GIVE YOUR FIANCEE A SMOOCH!" He jokes and smarms and cheeses but honestly he's really super grateful to have you.

Anon: He actually plays it super casual but the whole time leading up to it he's crazy nervous. He asks in a really low key way-- I think you're just playing video games at his place and he asks if you'd wanna maybe move in and also maybe make it forever and also maybe marry him. He legit plays it like it's a spur of the moment thing that he just blurts out but when you laugh he says he's serious and pulls a ring out of his pocket. He stares at you waiting for his answer and when you stammer he thinks for a moment that he's going to be rejected. But before that sinking feeling can make it all the way to his stomach you pulled out a ring and said you had been trying to think of the right way to ask. He lived and breathed off that high he felt in that moment for about 3 weeks.

Garret: Fully taken by surprise. He cries and scoops you up into his arms. He super can not believe you were planning on proposing too. says he wishes he had waited to ask now so you could ask first and he could give you the same happy feeling you're giving him right now! But he tells you "Don't worry, Garret will find many ways to give you that feeling for the rest of our lives!"

I'm thinking-- maybe apple picking date?? Or a fair date??

Dmitri: Candle lit dinner over looking the sea at a private table at one of the finest restaurants he could find. Rose petals EVERYWHERE, heart shaped EVERYTHING, he is in a tux with his shirt slightly open, HE RENTED A BAND. A string quartet to be precise. He makes the evening as classically romantic as he possibly could. He read you a poem that he wrote with the band playing in the bg. Then at the end of his poem, he gets down on one knee and asks you to be his forever. As you excitedly pull out your own ring he stares at it awestruck. He's silent and unmoving for a moment before his other knee drops down and he's now crying at your feet. He tells you how happy you make him, how lucky he feels, and holds out his hand for you to put the ring on it. He slips your ring on you and then dips you dramatically, telling you "Now kiss me under the stars, my darling"

Ichiban: He streams his proposal. He makes it seem like one of those things were it's like "oh ho ho my S/O doesn't know I'm about to propose to them-- what this~~! >:3" but then you throw him a curve ball and actually pull out your ring and ask him first. He was so sucker punched by the whole thing he ends up crying on stream. The clip of him getting a proposal jump scare goes viral.

William: He actually tries to keep it low key and sweet. Well-- tries to. He's definitely a fumbly nervous mess the whole night. Dinner, dancing and then a boat ride. He brings a boom box out onto the lake. He hits play and then does the whole down on one knee thing and starts his proposal speech, but part way through he realizes that this is the wrong track and asks for just a moment to switch it. He wrestles with the boombox for a bit before fumbling it into the lake. As he watches it sink down in the water, he sighs and feels so defeated, but when you call his name and he turns to you with a kicked puppy look only to see a ring in your hand he legit cannot believe his eyes. He is in stunned shock as you take his hand and give him YOUR proposal speech. The first thing out of his mouth is "REALLY?!" when you laugh and say yes as you slip the ring on his finger, he's still processing it and after a moment of staring at the ring on his finger, mouth agape, he repeats "REALLY?!"

He asks you if your sure or if this is real about a 100 times on the way home that night.

Myx: He got his band to give you a private show to "preview their new set", at the end of which he shouts a declaration of love into the mic and says "and I have just one question for you babe--" and the lights behind him light up with the words 'WILL YOU MARRY ME?'

and as you walk up on stage, drop to your knee and pull out a ring, he can't stop smiling. He kisses you and then WHOOs /SO LOUD/. To say he's over the moon would be an understatement.

Stirling: He takes you out onto a private lake that he owns and has specially flattened so he can skate on it without ruining his skates. He walks you through a graceful yet simple couples routine and then once you've got it down he hits some lights (were those always there?) and you two perform it in full. At the end he surprises you with one final move that was not in the choreography he had shown you-- he slides toward you on one knee, pulling a ring from his shirt and holding it out to you. You look surprised and tell him to wait one second, and then start awkwardly skating out to the end towards your bag. He sits there silently in that proposal pose feeling himself sweat for a second before you come sliding back towards him with your own ring in hand. He stares at it in shock for a moment before smiling sweetly and simply saying "even now, you're still full of surprises.

Scale: He left you a map. Well-- it was more like a puzzle or a riddle. You're own national treasure style hunt towards a 'big surprise' that he refused to tell you. You ran through busy streets, jumps across rooftops, went through a jungle, through a secret entrance behind a waterfall and climbed a secret stairway all the way to the top of a mountain-- all the while feeling like there was someone following you. When you finally got to the top of the mountain it seemed like no one was there-- until a dagger was flung in your direction and embedded itself in the tree behind you. A note was attached to the dagger that read 'turn around'. When you turned, you found a hooded figure looming behind you. "you probably are wondering why I brought you here..." It ripped off it's cloak to reveal Scale in a tux, "I have an important question to ask you." He walked towards you, dropped down on one knee and before he could take out his ring or even begin to ask you pulled out a ring of your own. He looked at it in shock with a blush on his face before leaping to his feet and saying "Wh--WAIT NO FAIR I WAS GONNA ASK FIRST!"

Sven: He had invited you over for a traditional home cooked meal but when you got there you found him in the kitchen, apron still on, oven mitts still on his hands as he was on the floor crying over what looked like it was a souffle but it was so burnt you couldn't be sure. When he noticed you there he started to bawl even harder "NO! NO NO! THIS IS NOT HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO!!" he curled onto the ground whimpering as he held back more tears and muttered "there was something I wanted to ask you... but I can't do it like this..." you knelt down beside him, petting his hair trying to console him. "I... actually had something I wanted to ask you too." you said. And then you pulled out a ring and his eyes went wide. "Sven-- would you" before you can even finish you are off the ground being spun around in Sven's arms as he beams "YES! YES! A MILLION TIMES YES!"

Cole: Cole planned to play it low key. He couldn't let his hand show too early. Tonight he was going to make you his, and you weren't gonna see it coming. He had booked a dinner at a nice restaurant. Not so nice that it would draw suspicion but definitely a step above your usual place. He was gonna wait till the end of dinner and spring it on you out of nowhere. It was the perfect plan. After the plates were cleared and it was just you, him, and two glasses of wine, he reached his hand over, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips to kiss with a sly smile. "Have I ever told you you look breathtaking in the moonlit? I'm sure I have, but it never hurts to be repeated." He reaches into his pocket to pull out the ring "In fact, I think it would be better if you go those sorts of compliments more often. Perhaps, everyday... an easy feat for me to do once your m--" he froze dead in his tracks as he opened his eyes to a ring box in front of you on the table. He let out a nervous laugh, "heh... w-what's this dearest?" Why was his palms suddenly so sweaty??? why was all of him suddenly so sweaty??? No matter, it's fine, it's nothing, he can remain calm. You open the box, holding it up for him, and asking you to marry him.

....YOU.... were asking HIM.... YOU..... were asking.... HIM???????? YOU--- YOU WERE OFFERING YOUR HAND TO HIM???? YOU WERE ASKING HIM???? YOU WANTED TO MARRY HIM???? YOU WERE PROPOSING????? he could feel his pulse racing YOU-- AND HIM--- YOU HAD A RING??????? YOU--- WERE ASKING---- HIM?????????

"Cole?" your voice cut through his sudden panic like knife. ...A soft and gentle knife.... he looked up at your eyes and you were looking at him with concern-- had he lost his cool???? oh, he guesses he HAS been just staring at the ring wide eyed and unblinking for a full minute now HA HA ha... he clears his throat, trying desperate to cover up any traces of swooning or being flustered "ahem-- YES, sorry, I uh--" he pulls out his ring and opens the box towards you, "I guess you beat me to the punch"

Poe: He takes you out into a field, with a picnic and many candles to help you both see. He reads you a book of poems that remind him of you, and then ends it with a poem of his own. He didn't flinch at any of the other sappy love poems he read that evening but as he drew to the end of his own, he was starting to sweat, knowing what comes next. He finishes off his poem and closes his notebook with a sigh. He reaches into his pocket but before he can pull out the ring you stop him and say that you have a poem you wrote that you wish to read him now. He could never pass up a poem from you. He listened to you with wrapped attention, your voice was like a lullaby. He let his eyes flutter close as he smiled and let your words wash over him. When you finished, he opened his eyes to a brilliant night sky, feeling the ring in his pocket. As he pulled it out and looked towards you, he was meet with a ring meant to be a mate to his. He was shocked, though aside from a blush it barely showed. He simply smiled softly and as he slipped the ring on your finger, said, "to the next chapter of our story..."

Cashew: The two of you had spent library dates quietly passing notes back and forth to each other, so that's how he decided he was going to propose. As he sat next to you sweating bullets in a library, he pretended like nothing was different, and this was a totally normal library date with totally normal notes and he totally didn't have a ring in his pocket or a rose in his backpack. Then the time came. You had slid your shared notebook over to him and he held up finger to indicate he was going to write something long and to give him a moment. When you nodded and turned your attention back to your book he covered the notebook a little a wrote 'will you marry me?' on it, he quietly pulled the ring out of his pocket and the rose out of his backpack and placed them both on the notebook, covering it up just enough so that you don't see yet. then he felt a tap on his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced over at you and saw a folded up prewritten note that had been sealed with a heart sticker (you were so cute), and as he took it, you glanced at him, pointing to note, indicating that you wanted him to read it. His aniexty flared up and he began to sweat even harder as he thought 'HA w-what if this is a break up note and I'm getting dumped right now? HAHA' with shakey hands he opened the note and a ring fell out pinged onto the table. reading the words on the paper 'will you marry me? Y/N' froze him in a moment. He was sitting there, staring at the ring on the table, clutching the note and vibrating with excitement.

Someone in the next isle shooshed him.

"HOLY SHIT-- I mean---" he lowered his voice, "holy shit!!!!! Y-yes! I---"

he slid the notebook your way, "YES!"

Seth: His was somewhat spur of the moment. He had gotten a ring but still hadn't figured out the right way to ask you. After about 3 weeks of racking his brain for the perfect proposal he finally just said fuck it. One night while you two were lying in bed he looked you square in the eyes and said "marry me?" at first you laughed it off but as he reached out and pulled the ring out of the draw, turned back to you, took your hand and looking at you once more replied, "I'm serious. Marry me." You looked at the ring in shock and surprise for a moment, "L-look, I know this isn't the romantic way to ask you, but I've been thinking about it for forever now and I figured it was time I just--" you rolled over to your side of the bed, digging through your clothes. For a second he thought you were about to get up and storm out on him but when you rolled back over with a ring of your own in your hand, he grew a crazy smile

"Hell yeah!"

#blush blush #blush blush game #bear answers #bear talks #bear text #bear writes #I'm sorry I don't have it in me to tag the individual boys tonight I just can't #THIS TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE I WANTED IT TO BE QUICK BUT I JUST KEPT GETTING LONGER AND LONGER #I need to fix some of my tags later anyways so #I'll save that as a problem for future bear

[genderqueerdykes]

the point of my masculinity and male positivity posts are to underline that masculinity and manhood are seen as a threat or in direct opposition to queerness, and that often times in order to be seen as queer you have to be partially or wholly feminine or gender neutral, or express your manhood in a feminine or gender neutral way in order to no longer be threatening, invasive, or a problem.

it is very difficult to exist in queer spaces as a hyper masculine person & a man. you're made to feel like you need to walk a tight rope feeling like you're inherently out of place, as if you existing and being masculine or a man in queer spaces makes others uncomfortable inherently.. just know that when i make positivity posts it is to remind us all that masculinity/manhood and queerness are not opposites and that you do not have to be a feminine man or masc person to be viewed/seen/heard as queer.

chasing men, masculine people, and masculinity out of queer spaces isn't helping anyone currently and won't help anyone down the line. please accept masc enbies, butches, bears, and masculine trans men with the same kindness, love, and passion that you do neutral and feminine people. that's the point when i make these kinds of posts. thank u

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