#whatever trash you think it's about probably

[gingernut1314]

Are You Mad?

Summary: Zoro hates it when you are mad at him...so why is it so hard for him to apologize?

Content: Gender-natural reader, Zoro being stubborn, Poor Chopper getting stuck in the middle of your fight, slight spoilers (thousand sunny)

Word Count: 850+

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“Why are you still pissed off?” Was the first thing out of Zoro’s mouth after thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of him standing before you in complete and utter silence. Not a single peep out of his mouth for thirty minutes as he watched you comb through Chopper’s fur, the poor reindeer molting so bad he had asked for your assistance in easing the itch a bit.

You quirked a brow up at him, keeping as silent as he had.

Zoro gruffed at his. 

“Really?” You turned your eyes right back down onto the reindeer in your lap, whose anxiety seemed to be growing the longer he was between you and Zoro's angered tension.

Zoro scoffed. 

Scoffed.

“It’s not even a big deal.” 

“You think so?” You were quick to shoot back. Zoro’s brows furrowed together at your tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” You plucked a clump of molting fur from the comb, tossing it into the trash bin next to you.

You gave him a simple nod. Just one. 

“Okay.” Silence fell over the deck of the Thousand Sunny once more. Well…as quiet as the Sunny could be. You could hear Sanji shouting something at Luffy from within the kitchen as well as the clinking and clanking of Franky and Usopp tinkering. 

Zoro watched you for a long moment, muscular arms crossing over his chest. Watched you as if he was trying to figure something out.

“...okay?” You gave a small shrug. 

“Okay.” You repeated. Zoro’s brown, near-black eyes continued to watch you. 

“...why do I feel like you’re still pissed?”

“Take a wild guess.” Zoro grit his teeth.

“Hey. I didn’t know.” Chopper was wiggling in your grip, his nerves bubbling fully to the surface then. 

“Heh, heh…I think Robin--” The doctor started but you cut him off, running the comb back through his fur to keep him there.

“You didn’t know? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” 

“I did!” He huffed back, uncrossing his arms again.

“You were there when I bought it!” The swordsman gave the back of his green-covered head a scratch as if he was trying to wrestle up the memory. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it.” It was your turn to scoff. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe apologize. Maybe actually take responsibility for it?” Chopper was once more wiggling in your grip, more nervous laughter falling from his lips.

“Guys…guys I’m sure--”

“You want me to apologize?” Zoro asked like it was the stupidest thing in this world. 

“No. Not now. You don’t think you did anything wrong.” 

“I know it wasn’t great.” 

“Then fess up and apologize.” You bit.

The deck fell quiet once more. Even Chopper held deathly still in your arms.

Zoro watched you, his gaze still narrowed like he should be the angry one.

“Fine.” He grit out like it was painful. 

He was probably the most stubborn man you had ever met. No. No scratch that he was the most stubborn man. There was no way he was really going to do what you asked of him. 

“Yeah?” You cocked a brow up at him. 

“Yeah.” He confirmed making you all but roll your eyes. You gestured for him to go on then with your hand. “I’m sorry.” You gave a small nod. 

“Okay…for what?” He went to open his mouth but you were quick to speak again. “And say sorry again before you tell me what you did,” Zoro grumbled.

“This is stupid.” 

“Then don’t do it.” This only made him grumble all over again.

“I’m sorry,” He began again, “for…” Another grumble in frustration. “For drinking your wine.” 

“You should be. That wasn’t that cheap shit you buy.” Zoro rolled his eyes right back at you.

“It was only 20 berries.” 

“The good stuff.” You were quick to correct him. Zoro sighed. 

“Whatever.” The deck went quiet again. Zoro continued to stand there, looking like he was still trying to figure you out as you went back to combing through Chopper's fur. The doctor had given a great sigh of relief at the tension being lifted. “Are…” Zoro started up again. 

“Are…?” You spoke, glancing back up at the tanned swordsman. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He mumbled like he was embarrassed to ask. Mumbled because he truly hated when you were mad at him. It was a fact that, once you figured it out, loved to use to your advantage. 

“Give me a little kiss and I won’t be.” Zoro’s shoulders seemed to slump in his own relief at your words. He was quick to kneel before you, lending over Chopper to fit his warm lips against your own. 

“EW! No! Stop!” Chopper complained, starting his wiggling back up all over again. You let the doctor go, who was quick to rush off, fake gagging as he did.

“I’ll get you another bottle,” Zoro murmured against your lips. You nodded, cupping his cheeks in the palms of your hands. 

“Thank you.” You claimed his lips once more, your skin warm and buzzing as he kissed you right back. 

[cavejebus]

my adam playlist is about 20 songs now, so im gonna post it even though it is still a WORK IN PROGRESS!!!! ill add onto it when i wanna ofc, but i just wanna share a lil bit of my visionnn <3 expect a lot of linkin park lmao

some songs might not show up on the tumblr preview so i highly recommend going to the actual playlist if you have spotify!!

and batuta din moldova is there too cuz why not

below is a few categories and explanations for most songs!!!

ANGSTY SHIT

songs I thought either the lyrics or vibe had something to do with his angst... usually has to do with his background, during the trap, after the trap (whether he survived or not), or just headcanons :P

1. paper cuts - nirvana

"my whole existence is for your amusement", "why do they not try to escape?"

i THINK this song is about this dude who is like, in a really shitty kidnapping situation.... or something idk don't quote me on that :P it gives off the vibe of how it must've felt being in the bathroom all alone :( waiting for his boyfriend to save him :(

2. pictures of me - elliot smith

"you'll be the victim of your own dirty tricks", "i'm not surprised at all and really, why should i be?", "so sick and tired of all these pictures of me")

i like the whole pictures tie in.. the song isn't rlly about this, but some lyrics seem like how he would feel about being in a trap. like "I'm not surprised jigsaw chose me for this, my life is shit!!" ofc that would be if he knew who jigsaw was beforehand....... self deprecating shit yknow

3. given up - linkin park

"stuck in my head again//feels like i'll never leave this place//there's no escape", "thought i was focused, but I'm scared//i'm not prepared", "i hyperventilate//looking for help somehow, somewhere//and no one cares"

OK so first quote from this that I chose is like, how he sees his life as some useless "live to die" type thing, then the next quotes are how he realizes that he REALLY doesn't wanna die at the end of the trap. despite his whole "my life is shit I hate my job yadda yadda" talk, he still begs for his life once it's really in danger!!!

4. black heart - stone temple pilots w/ chester benningtion

"rescue me//(If you don't mind)"

lawrence......rescue this bitch....... ok but this song is mostly vibes, it can have angsty vibes :P

5. go with the flow - queens of the stone age

"she said, "i'll throw myself away//they're just photos after all", "i can't make you hang around//i can't wash you off my skin"

MORE PHOTO STUFF!!!!!! love it when it all ties in......... for the second quote its kind of a chainshipping thing... i cant make you hang around, adam goin "don't leave me!!!!" and i cant wash you off my skin, lawrence left his frickin bloody handprint on adams face.... oughh

6. and one - linkin park

"left all alone//far from my home//no one to hear me, to heal my ill heart", "it's too late to love me now//you don't even know me"

this song just generally gives angsty adam vibes, but the second quote is TOTALLY CHAINSHIPPING..... like they literally just met but already have such a connection since they went thru all that SHIT. but uh its too late for them to live a happy normal life together cuz lawrence never came back womp womp!! i can see adam sitting there waiting like "he don't even know me why tf would he come backk"

VIBES/STUFF HE'D LIKE

whether its based off of whatever tf he was listening to in his headphones that one time, or just based off of the time... i think his music taste would generally be pretty vast, while still staying around nu metal and alternative rock

1. one step closer, papercut, don't stay - linkin park

its 2001, hybrid theory has been release and is already fairly popular, i'd assume :P plus I think he'd favor linkin park since they've got a lot of complexity, as opposed to some mindless nu metal around that time

2. guns (are for pussies), down - 311

AGAIN with the rap x rock wtf!!!! he also like, cares about politics and probably trash talks all those gun loving dummies

3. brain stew - green day

who tf doesnt like this song... but it is about rotting in your room and he probably does that often <3

4. break stuff - limp bizkit

DO I HAVE TO SAY WHY I PUT THIS ONE???? ITS BREAK STUFF LIMP BIZKIT COME ON!!!!

5. the fear (flipped) - the shins

honestly have no idea why, but its giving adam!!! dunno what the song is about, but i glanced at the lyrics mentioned a bong and i was like "haha adam smokes weed"

6. tired of sex - weezer

he would like pinkerton, but i kinda only like this song off of it :P i don't listen to much weezer

7. blister in the sun, kiss off - violent femmes

i kinda just wanted to add in the acoustic sounding shit, but i do think adam would listen to violent femmes!! and you should too!!!

8. break it to me - muse

have y'all noticed that he kinda lied a lot during the trap? sure he isn't a good liar, but he seems like he's cool with lying for whatever reason... i just kinda picked this one cuz i needed to add some muse and the song kinda says shit about lying and stuff idk!!

CHAINSHIPPING SHIT

other than the angsty chainshipping in the "angsty shit" category, these just have cutesy lil lawrence x adam stuff <3 sorry to SHOVE chainshipping down your throat but whatever love is love

1. add it up - violent femmes

not specifying which lyric even though there IS one, i'm just embarrassed to say <3 but uh the only thing stopping them from making out sloppy style on top of john kramer was their chains :P

again, i WILL be adding more to this :3 but here's just my thoughts for now. im TOTES not just projecting my music taste onto adam hahahahhhhahahhahahhhaaa he's just so ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry if none of this makes sense!!!

[c-is-for-circinate]

look the stupid terrible thing about the perpetual just-angsty-enough anime boy deuteragonist rivals is that they are so often written to be (writeable to be) so painfully aware of their own sharp edges and sins. the ways they've weaponized themselves, be it razor tongue or bloody sword. the ways the world weaponized them first. the pride they can't quite escape, about the skill it's won them. the price it's cost them to become, this hard-shelled sharp-edged thing that they are.

and some of them get sad self-involved redemption arcs but the very best of them just never actually get to stop being that sharp-edged thing, and never get to stop knowing it. they find a few soft places to show their soft protagonists, maybe, but mostly they just have to be a knife and also save the world or win the sport anyway. (or both. sometimes it's both.)

AND LIKE. I passed Hot Topic age almost twenty years ago. just, maybe there's something. y'know. compelling. about the way they keep being the knife.

[damiel-of-real]

that fucking flower i hate

[isthe-protag-cluelesstho]

Okay, probably not a hot take, but imma scribble about it anyway,

I honestly think Cale Hetinuse/Kim Rok Soo has chronic pain/fatigue.

Like, everybody loves the whole coughing up blood/wet meow meow thing he's always doing, but personally? People who are that nonchalant about Shit Happening To Their Body, are typically people who are waaaaay too used to Fucked Up Shit Happening To Their Body,

It's just a head canon, but as someone who is chronically in pain, I absolutely do some of the stupid shit CH/KRS does, like carrying stuff I should NOT be carrying, or continuing to Do Things even when I should be sitting and resting. I also know several people who (like me) can be experiencing level 4-5 pain and not show a hint on their face/through their actions besides maaaaybe moving a bit slower/stretching more

And we know KRS has been on his own since he was itty bitty... And then he grew up in a world hell bent on killing everyone. I can't help but think that a tiny child with no one to help him with the general cuts/bruises/little hurts of childhood would 1) have zero frame of reference for what "okay" actually looks like 2) probably has never really received medical care beyond emergency assistance (which does jack for chronic conditions) and 3) has NEVER really had someone in his life long enough for them to catch his way of coping with pain (my very close friends can hear when I'm hurting/tired, everyone else only notices if I am visibly incapacitated)

So, Kim Rok Soo ends up in a world/body that "technically" hasn't experienced his life, HOWEVER fibromyalgia and PTSD are like goddamn pb&j. It's a condition that is deeply tied to a body's stress response. And what does Cale say once he has the Heart? "I feel BETTER"

And that just speaks to me of a person who is so used to pain, that it no longer really registers... I had daily headaches for 7 years, it wasn't until I moved and got a new primary that I found out that more than 4 headaches in a month was considered a concern... I got on some migraine meds and actually stopped having that daily headache, something id just accepted as "how my body works" gone,

I personally don't consider pain at a 1-2 as particularly bothersome, it's more like a general annoyance. Onces it's up to 6-7 it's hard for me to move, and yet I often will still do so, despite the pain. It's only at 9-10 so I stop moving entirely and focus on just weathering it. Usually when that happens, I sleep so much after as my body tries to recover.

And when I read Cale, so casually continuing forward, despite the work he takes on himself, after the constant planning and prepping and ass kicking, all I see is a person who has lived so long with his body's suffering that it's just background noise. Yeah, he coughed up some blood, but the pain is back to "normal" so how can he raise a fuss? He killed 3 monsters with a dislocated shoulder that one time, this? This is easy. And despite claiming his body is weak, he refuses to truly accept the help and rest he needs because (like I used to) Cale thinks "this is just how my body works"

Sometimes, I cannot remember how I lived prior to my pain. Sometimes, I cannot imagine a world where I do not spend half the night attempting to force my muscles to relax, so I can actually sleep. I cannot imagine a world where I am able to do everything I want in a day and not collapse at the end. And I see so much of myself in how Cale continues to move despite the weight of the ancient powers, the expectations of the gods and his own personal hopes. He seems like a character doomed to continue walking, his bones broken but refusing the care because whats the point if everything still hurts the same way in the end?

Anyway, Raon should invent a cure for chronic illness and force Cale into a year long sabbatical

[featureenvyproductions]

Going to forever keep advertising my shit with tropes because do I have to? No. Am I too "stupid" to do it another way? No, not really. And as you've all seen, I also am perfectly capable of writing real blurbs and do write real blurbs. But I think it's fun to make the pic with the tropes anyway and have that around too. And also it keeps the pretentious people away. The sort who don't understand reading is not always for taking a "discomfort" vitamin because they A) are privileged enough to not have discomfort every day of their life to need to escape from or B) are fresh out of college and haven't discovered the joys of/have been shamed OUT of reading as a fun low pressure thing they can do to escape when they're fucking tired (and they think this sort of thing is new with fanfic and not more or less how "trash" lit like romance novels are marketed), as opposed to reading as some sort of Moral Duty To Be Deep that was instilled in them by a middle aged straight white English professor who thinks one can fulfill this by writing 10 pages about books where people scream at each other, have affairs with young women, or Make Up A Guy to warn people about things that Could Happen (that *cough* already happen to marginalized people *cough*) Anyway it's my version of a scarecrow. Firing shots to keep the rent low. Come take a seat next to me in the dumpster my fellow raccoons.

[bagheerita]

DS9's "Second Skin" once again shaming the Stargate Atlantis writing team by doing an episode they wrote but over 10 years earlier and 50 times better. I went on a rant about "Sunday" vs "Lessons" a couple years ago, but watching "Second Skin" is like seeing what "Michael" could have been if written by people who understood drama instead of only being acted by people who did. There are definitely differences, like we start out having a relationship with Kira which we don't with Lt Kenmore, but with the whole fake identity plot having the person's actual parent there makes it sooooooo much more emotional. (This is what I wanted from "Michael"!! Not just handing him a stock photo that literally looks like it came with the frame and telling him "These are your parents." But an actual emotional connection, any tie for him to cling to to believe your bullshit and not just Teyla being quietly agreeable like whoring her out is the only way you can sell your lies. Because, here in DS9 as well, the lies are so obviously bullshit.) But making it a double blind also, where you lied to the parent as well to make sure you manipulated that honest emotional connection into existing, fantastic, exquisite, Stargate wishes. And in the end the point of the episode is different, as Lt Kenmore is the focus of his episode and Kira is really just the excuse to expose the Legate by having him try to protect his "daughter," but (and as much as I love "Michael") the emotional content here is so much deeper and sweeter. Maybe SGA writers are allergic to honest emotions, or maybe the writers were trying to hedge their bets with not portraying their main cast as being as evil as the Obsidian Order... though if you're going to go with the war crimes go whole hog with the war crimes come on.

[stabwoundangel]

need to get tortured by a girl who'll explain things to me at length

[orcelito]

My nose has been so fucked up lately, like snotty and sneezy, but I'm not otherwise feeling sick. And I think I know what's going on.

The Dust.

I've recently moved my fan to the floor so that when I have it running as I sleep, it's not blowing on me (bc it's gotten colder). I think it's kicking up a ton of dust tho and making my nose HATE. ME.

I've come up with a list of cleaning goals to accomplish over break though which includes dusting and cleaning the floors. So hopefully I can make it better for myself 🙏

[corvid-ghost]

I think it's best fir everyone I'm not famous/a celebrity

[tame-the-lion-writes]

reader x dog shifter 141 [pt.2]

(If you haven't seen it yet, here's part one.)

It’s been a couple weeks, and you’re starting to catch on to just how smart your dogs are.

Not that you know what they actually are—but they’ve got this weirdly human intelligence behind their eyes, and weirdly human personalities. The Great Dane likes to sit on the recliner in your living room, regal and commanding, often watching your front yard whenever the gardener would come over. The gardener’s son replaced him once for a job, leaving grass cuttings in the driveway, and he was all huffy about it. It amused you at first, but then you realized his judgement wasn’t reserved for strangers. He was even more huffy the time you accidentally burned a steak. (Jeez, since when was he a dad?) Not to mention the empty whiskey glasses he likes to keep around, but that's not right—dogs can't have alcohol, can they?

The German Shepherd, on the other hand, is surprisingly clingy—but not in a bump-into-your-leg or overtly cuddly kind of way. Instead, he follows you while never begging for attention, attentive and patient as though a soldier awaiting orders. You’ve been jump-scared one too many times by his presence, when you think you’re alone and he appears out of thing air. A massive giant of a dog, with paws as silent as a shadow. And he’s stubborn—doesn’t initiate contact, but you swear you’ve caught a subtle bashful glance. Especially when you scratch behind his ears and along the scar of his cheek and chin.

But what the Shepherd lacks in open affection, the Labrador makes up tenfold. He doesn't pester about it, though, simply hopping up to your side on the couch to curl up or placing his muzzle on top of your knees. Still, while probably the most obedient out of the four, you’ve seen him get roped into food heists with the Foxhound, or stalking as closely and silently as the Shepherd. Very much the little brother who tags along with whatever. But you can't stay mad at him for long, either—not when he knows how to apologize—bringing you a freshly chomped-off flower from the backyard whenever you get mad. Then he'll sit at your heels with a faint tail wag, whining 'til you're settled and appeased.

The Foxhound is perhaps the most talkative, in both a noisy and conversational way. His joy is unrelenting around you, and he greats you like you’d expect any other dog. Still, he’s awfully communicative. It’s how you’ve learned their names—with you wandering aloud what to call them, and him making faces at every suggestion. He eventually settled for playing retriever: playing charades by bringing you back bottles and bars of soap. For the Great Dane, he grabbed an old receipt from the trash. For the Shepherd, he threw on a sheet. He seemed awfully confused on what to do for the Labrador, though, and just kept whining as if in apology.

“So Soap, Price, Ghost, and…,” you trail off, glancing at the Labrador with a slight pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, boy. I really don’t know what to call you. And Soap here seems like he’s run out of braincells.”

Ghost snorts in amusement, which is returned by Soap’s unfettered glare.

The next morning, though, there really is no explanation as to how Soap learned the alphabet, how to write, or to arrange your bedsheets in the following name: GAZ.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

"Aha... what the fuck."

Price has face-palmed (face-pawed?) and Ghost just walks over and calmly almost slapstick-esque baps Soap on the head. Meanwhile, Gaz looks dejected, pressing his forehead to the front door, like he's expecting you to kick them out in the next five seconds.

Not that you would, of course—but we can queue the mild horror and existential questioning of what the hell these dogs actually are. You call your friend to rant about your theory—that they could be escapees from a top secret government laboratory, or spies from another country. She just says to enter them into a dog show, or make ‘em celebrities on social media.

[fettery-fetterie]

Trying so hard to not go overly insane over bottle edition's ost but holy shit. Hooooly fuck hoOOOOOOly shit HooooooOOOOly hell

[3dbillcipher]

HELP ME GIVE MY PUPPETS TO ALEX HIRSCH

(EDIT: I have an address, these guys are going to Alex soon!!!)

Hey guys, 3dbillcipher's creator here.

I have to move to another country in the next 4 months and I can't take my Gravity Falls puppets that I built in 2016 with me.

For those that haven't seen them, these are my puppets:

Right now my choices are:

Throw Bill, Stan and Ford into the trash.

Give them away to any other fan that is willing to take them (hopefully someone who will use them for something fun that can be shared with the rest of the fandom, and not just hoard them in a box.)

Try to somehow reach Alex and send them to him, assuming he wants them. We know that he seems to like puppets, so I hope that he'd want these. I even know that he's seen the Bill puppet at least once, because he retweeted a photo of it one time.

For Alex, I'd be willing to pay for whatever the shipping costs (I know it'll probably be a lot). For anyone else, I'd have to think about it and try to negotiate the best way to get the puppets to them.

Anyway... please boost the hell out of this! If enough people reblog on Tumblr, if it spreads to other social media like Twitter or Reddit (here's the tweet about it, if you want to boost that), maybe I can reach Alex and I can repay a fraction of the joy that Gravity Falls has brought to my life by giving him a little something. And if not Alex, maybe I can find a good home for my puppets with someone else.

[hoshifighting]

staff!jeonghan

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, fame problems, paris trip, idol!reader is a sweetheart with her staff team, teasing, hair pulling, makeup smudging hair destroying sex, face slap, paris sex.

staff!jeonghan who started way back when your career was just taking off. you were still fresh, the kind of new that had people curious but not quite sold on the idea of you making it long term. jeonghan wasn’t even supposed to be sticking around. dude was just a freelancer, floating between gigs like it was nothing. hairdresser one week, stylist the next, maybe even photographer’s assistant if he felt like it. didn’t care much either—just did his job, got his check, and dipped.

he was there the first time you came in for a shoot, thinking, oh, here we go again, another idol who doesn’t know shit about shit, and probably treats their staff like trash. honestly, he didn’t expect anything from you. he had his walls up like crazy. you’d been doing this for, what, a hot minute? and you were already getting attention, which just made him think, “yep, this one’s probably the snobby kind. won’t even acknowledge us when she’s walking by.”

but then you went and did the most surprising thing—like blew his expectations out of the water kinda surprise. you saw him—no, not just like saw him, but like saw him. took a minute to actually chat. asked how his day was, if he needed anything while he was running around fixing the stage lights or whatever. you even remembered his name by the end of the first day, which? yeah, idols usually don’t bother with that.

fast forward a couple months, and jeonghan’s still hanging around. he didn’t plan to stay, but something about you changed that. it wasn’t even the work, really. it was more like you made things different for the whole staff—hairdressers, makeup artists, stylists, all of them. you had this habit of, like, breaking all the usual rules. you’d bring coffee for everyone in the morning, none of that half-assed, "just for my personal team" bullshit, you made sure everyone was taken care of, because they take care of you as welll.

then there was that time when you randomly called up your manager one day like, "hey, i’m taking everyone out to eat after the shoot." and jeonghan was standing there, trying not to look too surprised, but inside he was like, who the hell does that? especially in this industry where staff usually gets a handshake and a “thanks for your work” at most. while you’re out here throwing cash around to make sure your team is happy. it’s wild.

he remembers the first time you handed out those holiday bonuses. it wasn’t even from the company’s budget either; it was straight up from your own wallet. like, your money. you didn’t even make a big deal about it, just casually handed out envelopes and said, “merry christmas, you guys.” you should’ve seen their faces—everyone was shook, even him, and he doesn’t get surprised that easily. it was one of those moments where the room just, like, collectively inhaled. there was silence, and then someone—probably one of the stylists—goes, “y/n, this is... you didn’t have to...”

and you? you just shrugged, all casual, like it was no big deal. “nah, i wanted to. thank you for taking care of me, you make part of all of this too.” you pointed to the stage.

jeonghan couldn’t even look at you right for a second because it was, like, damn, okay, she’s for real. that was the moment he decided he wasn’t just gonna treat this gig like all the others. working with you? yeah, it felt different. and not in some sappy, fairytale shit kind of way, but in a “maybe there are still people in this industry who aren’t complete assholes” kind of way.

“so you’re sticking around, hannie?” you asked him one day, catching him off guard while he was fixing up your jacket right before a stage performance.

he smirked, his usual cocky, nonchalant self, but there was something softer underneath it. “guess i don’t have a choice. you make it too easy.”

he was your go-to guy now, the one you trusted with everything, from making sure your hair wasn’t fucked up during press tours to giving you a reality check when you were stressing over the dumbest things. and he liked that. he liked being the one you leaned on when you didn’t wanna bother anyone else.

but it was more than that too. you were just different. the way you treated people, the way you made sure everyone around you felt seen, felt valued? it wasn’t fake. it wasn’t for show. it was you. and jeonghan? well, he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around just for anyone. but for you? yeah, maybe he’d go the long haul.

jeonghan was always there, like a constant shadow that somehow made everything feel lighter instead of heavier. as your career blew up, he didn’t just keep pace—he matched your energy, your needs, every twist and turn that came with your fame. whether it was press tours, backstage chaos, or those ridiculous interviews where some clueless host would try to push your boundaries, he was always ready.

you’d be in the middle of a tv show, mind racing, and then there’d be a subtle shift. jeonghan standing just offstage, watching with a sharp, gaze of his. and it wasn’t like he had to do much—sometimes just a look was enough to let you know he had your back. like that time they tried to switch up your routine last minute, making changes that didn’t sit right with you. you didn’t even need to speak up, though. before you could say a word, he was already stepping in, throwing that effortless, yet somehow intimidating smile toward the team. “nah, we’re sticking with the original plan. my artist doesn’t do changes without notice.”

“your artist,” you’d hear him say that a lot, like a protective label stamped right over you, like you belonged to him—not in a possessive way, but in a way that made you feel safe. secure.

it wasn’t just about the work either, not even close. jeonghan made the loneliness that came with fame feel less suffocating. that part of fame nobody talks about—the part where you can’t make real friends anymore, where every new person in your life feels temporary, transactional. except him. he was loyal.

when you had those long, grueling days full of photoshoots and interviews and events, and all you wanted was to escape, jeonghan was the one who made sure you still had a piece of normal.

like that one time in paris. you were there for a fashion show, sitting front row with all these industry giants who couldn’t care less about anything but themselves, and jeonghan was right beside you, but afterward, when it was just the two of you, he was the one who dragged you to some random hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the street, far from all the cameras and flashing lights, ordering too much food and laughing at how terrible your french was.

“you know, you’re lucky you’ve got me,” he teased, watching you struggle with the menu. “otherwise, you’d be stuck ordering water and bread for the rest of the trip.”

you elbowed him playfully. “i’m just trying to be cultured, okay?”

“sure, sure,” he snickered, but the grin on his face was soft, like he was glad to be there with you. “leave the culture to me.”

he was there on the quieter days too. you’d be at home, no schedule to follow for once, just free. but that freedom? it felt empty when you didn’t have anyone to share it with. jeonghan got that. he’d show up at your place without even needing an invitation, like he just knew when you needed him there. sometimes he wouldn’t even knock. you’d just hear the door click open and his familiar voice, “you better not be working in there.”

you’d laugh, shouting back from wherever you were in the apartment, “i’m not, calm down.”

next thing you knew, he’d be on the floor of your pristine living room, surrounded by lego pieces because, for some reason, that’s what the two of you did on your days off. it was ridiculous, really, two adults crouched over colorful plastic blocks, but it made you feel like a kid again, like before everything got so complicated.

you’d crouch down next to him, watching his hands move, and without thinking, you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. it wasn’t even romaaaantic, more like instinct. jeonghan had this way of making you feel safe, like you didn’t have to be the perfect version of yourself all the time. you could just be you. and hugging him like that, clinging onto him like a koala, it was the only way you knew how to show him just how much he meant to you.

“you’re clingy today,” he murmured, but there was no complaint in his voice, just that familiar teasing.

“you’re soft,” you shot back, squeezing him tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his cologne was subtle but always the same, something that reminded you of quiet, peaceful moments, like this.

he tilted his head a little, catching your eyes “oh, yeah? not what you said last time.”

you puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms dramatically, the sulk settling in. “i’m done being clingy with you, jeonghan.”

he grinned like he was waiting for that exact reaction. it’s almost like he lived for these moments—when you’d pout and try to act all tough, but really? he knew exactly where this was headed. you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not him.

“oh yeah?” he tilted his head, gaze dripping with amusement as he leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “you sure about that?”

you tried to hold firm, but the way his voice dropped a little lower, teasing. you shifted your weight, crossing your legs under you on the living room floor, avoiding eye contact. “mmhmm. you’ll see.”

jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, leaning back and watching you with a glint in his eyes, like he was just waiting for you to crack. “you’re too cute when you sulk, y’know that?”

your heart fluttered, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek, determined to keep up the act. “whatever.”

he moved closer, a hand sliding around your waist, tugging you just enough so that your body leaned into his. “nah, don’t pout, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing lightly against your jaw. “we both know how this ends.”

and he was right. because, every time you tried to act like you were done with him, like you were going to keep your distance, it only ended one way—with you wet underneath him, a needy mess, begging for more.

like that first time in paris. paris had done something to the both of you. it was supposed to be a normal night, just you and him hanging out after the fashion show. nothing special, just another city on the endless list of places you’d been together. but somehow, that night went different. the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you’d scarcely made it through the door before his hands were on you, grabbing, pulling, claiming.

“thought you were gonna keep your distance,” jeonghan had teased as he pressed you up against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, making your knees weak.

you were already panting, feeling the warmness of him beaming off his body. “shut up, hannie.”

he chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you, making you gasp. “aww, so cute when you’re needy.”

and fuck, were you needy. by the time he’d pushed you onto the bed, tugging at your clothes, you were already whimpering for him, already soaked.

he’d dragged you to the edge, rough hands all over your body, pulling, squeezing, leaving marks everywhere. your hair had been perfect for the show, all sleek and done up, but that shit didn’t last long. the second he had his fist tangled in it, pulling your head back, it was ruined. thrusting into you from behind, his cock splitting you in half with each brutal thrust. “such a fucking mess.”

you’d tried to keep quiet, biting down on the pillow as your body rocked with every movement, but every time you let out a whiny moan, jeonghan was right there to mock you for it.

“aww, hannie’s being too harsh?” he cooed, as he tries to sound sweet. “hm? poor baby can’t take it?”

you’d only moaned louder, your body trembling as he slapped your ass, the sting making you cry out. he’d leaned down then, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “use your words, sweetheart. tell hannie how bad you want it.”

you couldn’t even speak, just a mess of broken moans and gasps as he kept slamming into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room. and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were right on the edge, that’s when he did it. his hand came up to your face, smudging the glitter from the show as he slapped you—not enough to really hurt. he is a careful guy.

“fuck, y/n, look at you. such a pretty little mess,” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you from behind, relentless. “you gonna come for me? c’mon, baby, let me hear it.”

you whimpered, nodding, your mind spinning as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over, making you roll your eyes, drool, everything u had right of. but just as you were about to cum, he pulled out, leaving you empty and desperate.

“aww, no no no, not yet,” jeonghan cooed, a wicked grin on his face as he turned you onto your back, pushing your legs open wide. “hannie’s not done with you.”

your heart pounded, your entire body aching for release, but you didn’t dare move. he was in control, and you knew better than to push him.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours as he teased you. “too much?”

you shook your head, barely able to get the words out. “n-no… please…”

his smirk widened, that wicked glint in his eyes making you shiver. “please what? gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as you looked up at him, desperate. “please… fuck me…”

“good girl.”

[satoruxx]

pairing: wolf!toji fushiguro x reader summary: wolfhybrid!toji, grumpy x sunshine again, animalistic behavior, bickering rheya’s note: man i couldn’t stop thinking about guard dog toji so it turned into a hybrid au! i can’t see him as anything but a wolf/dog tbh. anyways i will def be writing more for this au hehe <33

you’ve been hearing noises.

it sounds strange, but you’re sure that there is something lurking in the normally deserted alleyway next to your apartment. at first you brushed it off as people traveling through, but now you've noticed the sounds are constant—every night.

you’re eating dinner when you hear the sounds of scuffling, followed by the yowl of a cat and realize you’re probably dealing with a stray looking for food.

so after you finish your meal, you put a bit of leftover fish in an old plate you seldom use, and take it outside. when you peer into the dark alley you don’t see any cat—it’s empty and quiet. you do notice a few scrapes on the walls and a couple of trash bins overturned, which means there definitely was some animal here.

maybe it’ll come back, you think as you bend down and place the plate on the pavement. with one last backward glance at the deserted alleyway, you head inside and go to bed.

a fond smile stretches across your face when you notice the empty plate as you’re leaving for work the next morning.

it becomes a daily routine after that. every night before you go to bed you go out and leave a little plate of fish for the poor cat. and every morning you’re met with a licked clean plate.

even though you never do see the cat, you do feel a strange combination of accomplishment and affection for the poor thing. and your little routine runs smoothly for a couple weeks—you have no complaints.

and then one night, when you’re going to drop off your little ration of the day, you see him. despite being hunched in a corner, he looms infinitely large—heavy shoulders and muscles straining as they fill with tension at your presence. his eyes are strangely bright, crystalline jade narrowed into slits as they appraise you, teeth bared in feral anger. they snap and snarl at you in warning, and you freeze almost immediately.

he’s terrifying—in a strangely gorgeous way.

dark furry ears are pointed up straight, twitching with the sound of your movements, and a warning growl bounces over the walls.

you raise your hands, ignoring the tremble, the instinct to run. “i just…” you keep your voice low, choosing to lightly shake the little plate you have in your hand. green eyes dart over—another snarl, a flick of a tail.

you slowly crouch and place the plate onto the ground, before backing away—you’re not trying to get attacked by a clearly feral hybrid.

he snarls and growls until you are well out of sight.

when you’re back in the safety of your apartment you almost laugh, heart pounding with disbelief. you thought you’d been feeding a stray cat—but no, it’s a hybrid. a big one, predatory in all aspects. you couldn’t see much in the dark lighting of the alley but the ears looked distinctly canine—with the addition of the teeth, claws, and tail, you’re almost sure he is some kind of dog or wolf or whatever.

dangerous for sure.

sensibly, you should probably stop feeding him so he doesn’t stick around. but stupidly, you can’t help it.

the next night you leave another plate. he’s not there this time, but you leave it just in case he’s lurking.

the following night his green eyes remain narrowed on your figure as you return—still snarling as he watches you.

you’re not fazed.

(tell that to your racing heart.)

over the course of the next few weeks, you repeat this process, not really sure what you’re expecting. you suppose you should be grateful that he doesn’t growl as much anymore, seemingly becoming accustomed to your routine presence. it becomes clockwork, so much so that you can always expect him to be sitting in the alley, ears flicking at the sounds of your footsteps.

the plate has now been saved for his little nightly meals, something you don’t necessarily mind. you notice that he is always clad in the same tattered clothing, a dark shirt that is far too loose even on his large body—it is littered with dirt and holes and you wish it was easier to offer some more comfortable items to him.

but you’ve only just gotten him to stop viewing you as a threat; you’ll take it slow.

you don’t notice that he gradually waits closer and closer to where he knows you leave the plate, the distance diminishing in a display of semi trust.

you think that this is all you’ll really get from him. which is fine—you’d rather he remain silent and alive than dead from starvation in your alleyway.

he surprises you one night.

“no more fish.”

you pause in your tracks, a few measly centimeters away from putting the plate on the ground. your eyes dart upward to see him already staring at you, jade slits narrowed. his tail flicks lazily in the shadows. your voice is breathless when you ask, “w-what?”

“fish,” he repeats. “no more of it.”

his voice is a low rumble, deep in richness and timbre despite its evidence of not being used in a while. you glance down at the plate in confusion—he had eaten it all for these few weeks?

he reaches for the plate, digging into the fish with practiced ease. you watch his canines dig into the flesh and tear away like it’s mere paper.

(should you be scared that the fish could also be your throat?)

“you uh—” you clear you throat, staring at him. “you don’t like fish?”

“i can survive off it,” he spits out in between bites—his pupils find yours. “but it’s not great.”

you don’t know why you’re so eager to make him happy. “then what would you like to eat?”

he quirks a brow at the enthusiasm, but answers gruffly. “meat. real meat.” he pauses to run his tongue over his lips, satiated—you can see a scar cutting over them. “like lamb. or beef. i don’t care really.”

“i can do that!” you’re seriously embarrassed at how keen you are, but the progress you’re making excites you. “i should’ve considered what you’d naturally like to eat. you’re a…?”

“wolf,” he grunts, still focused on his meal.

“right.” you nod, grateful to have confirmed the species. “makes sense you’d prefer real meat.”

he doesn’t answer. you don’t mind.

“then i’ll get you something different tomorrow.” you turn to leave. once again he doesn’t answer, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your back.

you don’t tell the wolf hybrid that you stayed up researching his species just to figure out what he’d like. you just place the plate down the next night, hoping that it is enough to make him feel a little more comfortable with you.

(you’re sure he could kill you with just one bite, but you try not to think about that.)

the wolf watches you present the plate of lamb meat, some pieces cooked and some raw—his tail slowly thumps against the ground.

“i um…know that wolves like deer and stuff, but getting deer meat nearby is a little difficult. i can probably go find some places over the weekend,” you say hesitantly, watching his expression. he reaches a large palm out, claws tugging the plate closer, and digs in. you’re not sure about the taste, but you can see the rise in enthusiasm as he gobbles the meat down—a smile twitches at your lips.

“it’s fine,” he mumbles in return. “deer’s expensive. i like lamb and chicken. beef too.”

you nod, surprised at the consideration for the money you’re spending.

“do…do you prefer it raw or cooked?” you wait for him to click his tongue or indicate he’s getting annoyed by your presence, but he’s feeling forthcoming tonight.

“either’s fine.” he licks up the pinkish liquid that has dripped down his chin while biting into the raw pieces. “i’m used to raw meat.”

you nod, slowly taking a seat on the pavement. his eyes flicker up to watch what you’re doing, but he doesn’t protest. he just picks up another piece of lamb and takes a bite.

“you cook this?” he grunts, waving one of the cooked pieces. you grimace, nodding sheepishly.

“yeah. i wasn't sure if you'd like raw meat or cooked so i brought both. i can just bring raw pieces from now on.”

he peers at the cooked meat in between his claws, before shaking his head gruffly. “it’s pretty good.”

“the cooked meat?” you ask in surprise. he nods.

“yeah. tastes good.”

you can’t help the grin that stretches across your face.

“the fuck are you smilin’ about?” he narrows his eyes at you, ears pointing upright. you drop the smile hastily, shaking your head with a start.

“nothing!”

he snorts, continuing to eat. you watch him do so, strangely content. he doesn’t comment on how you’re seemingly inspecting him, eyes unblinking. he keeps his mouth shut because the taste of meat is heavy on his tongue, and at this point you’re a godsend to an animal like him.

so if you want to observe him like he’s in a fucking zoo, he’s fine with that.

you do have horrible survival instincts though. he wonders why on earth you seem so comfortable around a predator like him, especially a species that is so known to be violent. you’re just sitting there, a mere five feet away, watching him tear into raw meat with stars in your eyes.

(he could tear you apart in a second if he wanted to.)

he doesn’t leave a morsel on the plate, and you give him that same silly smile again.

“i have a little bit more cooked lamb leftover if you want?” you question him, and his eyes lazily roam over you. he thinks about telling you that he could devour meat for much longer if the supply was endless, but instead he huffs.

“did you eat?”

you blink. “me?”

“yeah you,” he replies harshly, rolling his eyes. “did you eat?”

you awkwardly scratch at your arm. “not yet. i was gonna eat some instant noodles later.”

“why the fuck are you worried about a stray like me then?” he snarls, crossing his arms—you’re so fucking naive. “go eat the cooked lamb and worry about yourself, for fuck’s sake.”

while his harsh tone would’ve definitely scared you on day one, this time, you feel more ticked off than afraid.

“i’m a grown ass adult. don’t tell me what to do. if i wanna worry about the noisy stray in my alleyway, i’ll do that,” you shoot back indignantly, mirroring his crossed arms.

the wolf’s demeanor changes, hackles rising. his ears go erect, straight and tense with frustration. he bares his teeth at you, a warning growl coming through them. “lot of talk for someone so damn tiny,” he barks. “don’t you have any self preservation instincts? i could just fucking eat you instead.”

you go a little slack jawed at that, a flicker of hesitation, but then you retort. “maybe, but i bet humans don’t taste as good as lamb or deer!”

“i’ll make do,” he growls back, canines pulling into an evil smirk.

your bravado dies down, and then he has to deal with the disturbingly wounded pout on your face. you don’t say anything more and he sighs heavily.

“i’ll eat more if you eat,” he grunts, glaring at the pavement. even then, he can feel the way you perk up.

“i’ll be right back!” you grab his plate and hurry into your apartment, eager, and all he can do is sigh, wondering what on earth he’s doing interacting with a fragile little human like you.

you come back with more cooked lamb in his designated plate, placing it in front of him before taking a seat on the floor again. he watches you stab at the pieces with a fork and chew on them, so dainty compared to the way his canines dig into his own share.

he can feel the curiosity thrumming through your veins, no doubt burning with questions—the need to talk to him. but you stay quiet as you eat, the sounds of chewing echoing through the alley. he concedes.

“you make it a habit to feed strays?” he mutters. you look up, once again sporting that silly look of surprise at his attention, but you recover quickly.

“no not really. you were just…really loud.” you sheepishly grin when he pins you with a glare, raising your hands innocently. “i just heard a lot of rattling around out here. i thought you were a stray cat.”

he takes offense to that.

“i ain’t no damn cat,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he bites into the flesh of another piece. your grin widens.

“clearly.”

the rest of the short meal passes in silence. he finishes up before you do, and for the first time you see him stand to his full height—he’s tall and hulking.

“well,” he grunts, shoving his clawed hands into his dirty pockets. “y’should go inside and finish that.”

he nods at your bowl before turning away. you briefly wonder where he sleeps; perhaps the park nearby so that he can rest on soft grass rather than cold stone. the thought makes you pity him more than you did.

his retreating form suddenly pauses, and he turns to stare over his shoulder—his jade eyes glow in the darkness. “see y’tomorrow.”

a wide smile stretches across your face, and you wave back, giddy. “sure! see you tomorrow…” your voice trails off at the end. the wolf rolls his eyes heavily, before turning around and continuing his walk.

“toji.” he finishes for you, voice low and yet still clear.

you bite back a laugh of disbelief. “toji,” you repeat, and it rolls off your tongue like butter. his ears twitch at the sound, surprisingly pleasant, and he grumbles in return, vanishing into the night.

he ends up keeping his promise.

[i-am-the-balancing-point]

Prep List

Standard ISO shipping container Air -Filtration System/Exchanger Food -1100 MREs (3 Years worth + 5 emergency) -500 Canned Non Perishables Water -4 X 16 Gallon Rain Barrels -2 X 2 Gallon Gravity Fed Water Filter Warmth -8 Lamps. 20 Gallons of Kerosene. 2000 matchsticks. -Heavy Duty Clothing First Aid/Hygiene -3 Year Supply of Kits Energy -2 Years Worth of All Battery Types -LED Flashlights Weapons/Tools -Machete, Firearm + Cleaning Solvents and Oils

A note, found at Fall’s End Garage. ❇︎ Notes of Hope County