#Woolfy

[inthedarktrees]

Wild and Woolfy (1945) dir. Tex Avery

[sleepy-crypt1d]

everyone look at my cat cuddling my life-size P03

[fairyniceyeah]

🌹🤍 Don't forget when you were a child

Title from Childhood (The Rose)

Summary: Woosung returns home to his eomma to relax during his time off. His stomach has other ideas.

CW: emeto

Sickie: Woosung/Sammy Caretaker: Woolfy + his eomma

Woosung loved being home with his eomma in Los Angeles. He would never admit it out loud but he missed her a lot when he was on tour or in Korea with his members. He might be a self-sufficient guy who liked his privacy but he loved his eomma more.

So - in his book - the reunions at the airport were the best thing ever. 

“Sammy-ah”, his eomma called and the next second he was pulled into a tight embrace. 

“Eomma”, he whispered, blinking back tears and burying his face in her hair, inhaling the comforting scent of home. He held on tightly for a moment until she pushed away to muster him.

Woosung knew how he looked and her disapproving tongue-click supported that. The singer was tired, after having not slept on the eleven hour transpacific flight. Shortly after they had taken off, bad turbulence had started and any hopes of sleep had vanished while his airsickness had quickly reared its ugly head. Woosung knew his eyebags were designer and he hadn’t really gained the color in his face back, as far as he had been able to tell in the airport bathroom that was so disgusting he had fled rather quickly.

“Flight was not calm?”, she asked, rubbing his arm and leading him towards the exit. He fell in step with her, pulling his suitcase behind himself and looking down. He hoped no fans would be able to recognize him and he was glad that his eomma had switched to Korean for a touch of privacy.

“No”, he mumbled and sighed, “the fucking opposite really.”

She hummed empathetically and then stopped him. “Let me take your suitcase. You look dead on your feet.”

“You don’t have to, eomma”, Woosung protested but she snatched the handle from his grip easily. 

“Let me baby you for today, Sammy-ah. I’ve missed you”, she said and continued walking. For a second he was stunned but quickly hurried after her.

“Thank you”, he whispered, running his palm over his face. Truth be told, he was not feeling good. His stomach hadn’t really stopped churning even after he was on solid ground and there was an exhaustion in his limbs that made it hard to put one foot in front of the other. Maybe a good sleep would cure it all.

Once in the car he closed his eyes and rested his head against the window. He still didn’t feel up to much, especially since the car had heated up significantly in the short time she had parked it. The aircon was on full blast and he shivered, still it was too hot.

“AJ and your step-dad are looking at universities for him. They will be back tomorrow”, his eomma explained, “but Woolfy is pathetically yearning for you.”

Woosung laughed at the thought. “He’s the best boy.”

“He is. I’ll miss not being his favorite for the next few weeks”, she joked, “whenever we mention your name he looks around expecting you to pop up somewhere. We will have the happiest dog alive soon.”

“I can’t wait to take him to the park”, Woosung replied, fiddling with the aircon so it blasted directly in his face. That felt much better.

“You'll have the opportunity soon.” His eomma shot him a worried look from the side. “You’ve been sick on the flight?”

He nodded, embarrassed. While the stewardess had been very kind to the poor young man in her section who was so terribly airsick, it had not been a great experience. Normally at least he had his members by his side but this time alone had been physically and emotionally taxing. 

“Have at least some plain rice before you go, and drink something sweet. You need some strength and a higher blood sugar”, she advised, though from experience he knew that it was more of a command. Nevertheless, the thought of putting anything in his stomach made him feel a bit queasy again. Maybe he really was just running low on fuel.

“I will.” Then belatedly realizing, he added: “I should probably let the guys know I arrived.”

He pulled out his phone that was bombarded with messages. With the light stabbing his retinas, he decided that whatever the contents of the chat were, they couldn’t be too important. So he just wrote a quick text telling them he had landed and put his phone away.

🌹

Woosung woke up to … his face being licked? 

“Woolfy, no, stop”, a voice scolded but interrupted itself with giggles, “I told you to wake him not give him a doggy make-over.”

Woosung lifted his hands to his face and peeked out from behind his fingers, trying to protect his eyes from another dog tongue attack. He came face to face with Woolfy who looked more than delighted. 

“Hey, baby”, Woosung yawned and wrapped his arms around the dog. Woolfy seemed to take it as a cue to jump into Woosung’s lap and excitedly squirming about, sniffing him everywhere. 

Still a bit groggy from sleep, Woosung looked around. He was in the passenger seat of his eomma’s car, where he apparently must have fallen asleep during the drive. His eomma stood to the side of the car, apparently having opened the passenger door for Woolfy, laughing and taking pictures. 

“Sorry about him”, she said, giggling, “you were so deeply asleep I decided to bring your stuff inside and fetch you after but Woolfy escaped and I was scared he would start scratching at the car door if he didn’t get to greet you soon.”

“It’s alright, it’s a nice wake up. Don’t tell him”, Woosung mumbled, running his fingers through the gray fur. 

🌹

After forcing down a small bowl of rice and a sports drink, Woosung got ready to go on a walk with Woolfy. While he was still not feeling great and all he wanted to do was sleep, he knew he would be sore from flying and he wanted to get accustomed to the LA timezone quickly. So a walk was a perfect opportunity to shake off some energy and get his muscles straightened out, all the while not at risk of falling asleep.

His eomma had promised to cook him his favorite childhood dish while he was out with Woolfy and practically shooed him out the door. With his bed already made by her earlier and his travel experience good enough to place all the stuff he would need for sleep tonight being packed on top, he would be able to come back, eat and sleep. It was perfect really.

Soon he held his lovely dog on his leash, walking down the familiar street towards the big park close by. Despite the evening hour it was still hot, the asphalt having saved the heat. They made their way slowly, Woosung setting a pace that he felt comfortable with. Woolfy seemed a bit impatient but today Woosung couldn’t do faster. As he walked he started to feel how sore he really was. 

The park was fairly empty - to his surprise and relief - so he let Woolfy off his leash. Still the dog didn’t seem to want to stray far from his owner, in his excitement constantly walking into Woosung’s path causing him to nearly trip.

“Woolfy”, Woosung scolded, nearly not able to catch his balance. He was so hot, sweat pouring down his back. There was a strange feeling in his body that he couldn’t place. There was a light fuzziness left over from his nap earlier, so it was probably that. The sun was burning on his head, causing his eyes to fall shut against his will. Woolfy nudged him along and Woosung really did want to spend time with him. Maybe in the shade.

He walked towards a shadowy part of the meadow and took out the water bottle his eomma had given him. He was glad for it now, taking a few quick gulps in hopes to cool himself down. He had not missed the LA sun. 

As the cool water hit his stomach, the muscles suddenly contracted and he curled over as the upset organ continued to cramp. Gosh, it hurt. The water didn’t seem to want to settle at all, churning and moving upwards. That’s when Woosung realized that the strange feeling he had been feeling for awhile now was … nausea.

As soon as he realized he was confused why he hadn’t realized earlier. He really felt terrible, especially with the heat. The shade barely helped with the hotness he felt. Woolfy nudged his knees and they nearly buckled under his weight.

“Yeah, let’s go on”, Woosung mumbled, swallowing harshly. The sooner Woolfy got his energy out, the better. Woosung didn’t want to go again later or have his eomma do it for him. Every step jostled his stomach and his throat felt tight. He subconsciously placed a hand against his upset stomach and tried to just breathe.

It didn’t help.

At all.

🌹

It was only a few more meters when he couldn’t bear it anymore. He stumbled off the path and collapsed to the ground behind the line of trees that would hopefully hide him from any stray glances.

God, he felt awful. He curled his arms around his abdomen and hid his face in his knees, swallowing against the tightness in his throat.

Woolfy followed him and gently nudged his snout against Woosung’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Woolfy, I’m suddenly not feeling so good. We can go on in a bit”, Woosung whispered, carding a hand through his fur. It helped a bit to calm his racing heart down. He did not want to be sick. Not in public. Not on his first day home. Not away from home. Not alone.

But he couldn’t deny the feeling in his stomach. He let his head thunk back against the tree bark and tried to simultaneously think of a reason for his misery and ignore it completely. By now he doubted that it was unfortunate leftover nausea from the airplane, rather he wondered if he hadn’t been sick then too and just had not realized. It could also have been a mix of both back then.

But now? He had no idea what made him so queasy.

Maybe it was just exhaustion coupled with the jetlag. Maybe it was the food from the plane. Maybe he wasn’t used to the LA heat anymore. Maybe something had not been lactose free after all. Maybe he had caught something in that disgusting bathroom at the airport. 

Thinking back to the flooded floor and the oppressive heat in there made him gag. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, swallowing convulsively. Woolfy, who had laid down next to his owner, watching him, now jumped up in worry, nosing Woosung again. Woosung felt terribly guilty about it but pushed him away gently. He couldn’t stand the heat of the dog’s fur for now.

“I’m sorry, Woolfy, I’m …”, he started to apologize but he was cut off by an unexpected belch. He barely managed to turn his head to the side before he was being sick. For a moment he was so startled, he could only stare at the undigested bits of rice and blue gatorade on the grass beside him. It was a gross sight and his stomach somersaulted before another mouthful of his stomach contents sprayed on the ground.

Leaning twisted to the side like this hurt and exhausting but he couldn’t stop. The last remnants of the small amount of food he had managed to choke down earlier splattered onto the grass beside him and the smell, worsened by the heat, made Woosung gag even more.

“Oh God”, he groaned, wrapping his arm around his stomach, trying not to cry. He hadn’t felt this bad, hot and nauseous, in a long time. The plane ride was nothing against this. His throat felt dry and raw but he didn’t dare try to drink anything. No matter, his water bottle had fallen someplace away when he had dropped it earlier.

He couldn’t tell how long it had been until he was able to scoot a few meters away from his puddle of stomach contents but he nearly started to cry at the prospect of having to drag himself home like this. It was overwhelming him, waves of desperation and fear crashing over him. He just wanted to be home, cooled down and most of all, not nauseous anymore. His stomach ached from emptiness and strain of having been sick so often. Tears rolled down his cheeks, more fluids he couldn’t afford to lose.

Woolfy, who had stood by protectively, walked closer to Woosung and without further ado laid down on Woosung’s legs. He was a comfortable weight and Woosung leaned down, wrapping his arm around him, burying his face in his softness. He was well-aware that he was crying, drenching his dog in tears but he couldn’t care. Woolfy accepted it all with patience and kindness. It took a few minutes for Woosung to calm down enough that he could lift his face up. He wiped his eyes and muttered: “Thank you.”

In answer Woolfy just licked his face then recoiled when he got a whiff of the smell of Woosung’s mouth. Yeah, Woosung couldn’t even fault him for that. His mouth tasted disgusting and he didn’t doubt he had a terrible breath.

For a moment he contemplated calling his eomma to come and get him with the car but he would have to walk back across the park, which was nearly half the way, anyways. He didn’t want to worry her and he was an adult. He could get back home on his own. So, Woosung, still shaky and dizzy, pushed to his feet, holding onto the tree for a second to stay upright. Woolfy just waited then nudged his owner, guiding him back to the path. 

Not protected by the trees anymore and therefore in the path of the breeze, Woosung started to shiver, his shirt sweated through. He was disgusting but he also couldn’t care less. At least he wasn’t so hot anymore, which was really good. He’d rather be cold than warm.

Even slower than the walk to the park, they made their way back. Woolfy loyally stayed at his side, not running into his path anymore and not being any trouble. He could probably sense just how exhausted Woosung was. Everything was spinning a bit and his head felt even worse, barely even awake.

By the time they reached the entrance to the park Woosung had to double over again, bringing up a few mouthfuls of bile. Woolfy stayed by his side, the feeling of his loyal companion by his side the only reason Woosung didn’t collapse next to the disgusting puddle. At least, luckily, nobody was there to see. That would have been the cherry on top of the cake of that awful day.

🌹

They made it back home without further incident and Woosung pushed open the door. He’d never been so relieved to be anywhere before. Already the coolness of the house helped him feel a bit better, though the nausea was still testing him. 

“Eomma, we’re home”, he called, wincing at the sound of his voice. His throat was dry and scratchy, raw from vomiting.

As he spoke, he noticed that his stomach was feeling really unsettled again. He just wanted to lay down and sleep until this was over. His eomma hurried into the hall, her face scrunching up as she saw him. “You’re back early, Sammy-ah, is everything …”, she started, coming closer.

It happened so fast he at first didn’t even quite understand what was happening. Bile rushed up his throat without warning and Woosung couldn’t hold it in. He doubled over, vomiting at her feet. Retch after retch tore up his throat, causing bile and the last of the meals he had eaten the previous twenty-four hours to splatter onto the floor. 

Fuck, that he had not anticipated. His eomma even less so evident by the horrified expression on her face that Woosung only got a tiny glimpse of before she stepped into action. She really deserved a big bouquet of flowers or something once he was well, he decided. Without any hesitation she came to stand beside him, ushering Woolfy away at the same time, and rested one of her hands on his back, the other holding back his fringe. Even as his back rippled from extortion she didn't let go, but rather shushed the pained whimpers he couldn’t hold back anymore. His stomach really hurt.

Just as he thought he would collapse into a pitiful puddle on the floor did his stomach grant him mercy. With tears in his eyes that he just wanted to let roll down his face did he blink up at her, one hand on his knee, the other wiping his mouth. 

“Oh dear”, his eomma mumbled, shock still evident in her voice, “oh dear, well, that explains it. Come on, let's get you laying down. Or should we get you to the bathroom?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry”, Woosung whispered, not able to hold back. He hadn’t wanted to make a mess. He was an adult. He could deal with being sick. It didn’t matter - all he wanted was his eomma’s hug.

“Language, baby. While you may be making a career out of using that word in every possible situation, you know you’re not using it in your mother’s house”, she scolded lightly. The reminder was so familiar it even brought a tiny smile on his face. “Sorry”, he rasped.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re sick. Sofa okay?”, his eomma then asked. Woosung just nodded and let her guide him inside by his elbow, ignoring the mess he left behind.

“I just wished you’d said you felt this sick earlier”, she commented as he stumbled, most of his weight on her already, “I would never have let you out with Woolfy if I had known.” The dog perked up at the mention of his name, cuddling close to Woosung’s legs again.

She helped him lay down on his side on the couch and he could have cried at the relief of not having to hold himself up anymore. Actually, there were tears running down his face, tickling him. She gently wiped them away and placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

“You’re feeling a bit hot. So this definitely isn't airsickness anymore. Hey, baby, don’t go to sleep yet”, she admonished gently, brushing back his hair. “I know you don’t want to but try to drink a bit. You might be dehydrated. I’ll get you something.”

He blinked and she returned nearly immediately. Had he fallen asleep after all? He didn’t know. He watched, detached, as she placed a bucket by his side. The sight of it reminded him of a childhood filled with illness until they figured his lactose intolerance out, but also of the body of a young child that was more fragile than his adult one. The only thing that had been a constant was his eomma’s kindness and gentle care.

She helped him sit upright, leaning him against the backrest and handed him a glass of water. He took a few small sips until he felt his stomach turn. He put the glass on the table and leaned back. His head was still spinning and the way his stomach felt he knew he had a long night ahead of him. How he would get through that without bursting into tears was a problem for later. He already didn’t know how to deal.

“I’m so sorry”, he apologized again, gesturing into the direction of the hall. He didn’t want her to have to clean it up but he also didn’t have the strength to do it himself. And somehow he doubted even if he could, she would let him.

“The floor can easily be cleaned, don’t worry about it. I mean, it would have been lovely if you had made it to the bathroom but some things can’t be helped. At least you made it home”, she tried to assure. But at that tears sprung into his eyes again.

“I didn’t. Threw up at the park. Twice. Nobody saw but …”, he broke off, trying not to sound whiney - despite having a good reason for it. “At least I had the furball with me.”

“Yeah, your baby is great”, his eomma agreed, “I’ll quickly clean the hall, okay? And then I will stay with you all you want, okay?”

Biting his lip, Woosung nodded.

She disappeared and he stared down at Woolfy who had followed them into the living room. The dog seemed satisfied they were home but still worried. Maybe Woosung was imagining things. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t reading too much into his dog’s behavior. But then Woolfy traipsed over and laid down by Woosung’s side on the floor, careful to not push the bucket away, and in the perfect position for Woosung to stroke him. He let his hand dangle and the repeated motion of running his fingers through silky fur nearly lulled him to sleep.

🌹

The silence was broken by his phone ringing and Woosung blinked open his eyes tiredly, accepting the call without looking at the caller ID. 

“Yes?”, he mumbled.

“Saaaammyyyy”, Dojoon called loudly, “don’t leave us hanging in the group chat.” If that wouldn’t have made his dizziness worse, Woosung would have rolled his eyes. Trust Dojoon to call to complain about a group chat.

“Leo?”, Woosung greeted tiredly, “hi.”

“We assume the last message you sent meant you were home but it was so full of spelling mistakes … did you fall asleep while writing it? You could have at least sent a picture of Woolfy before”, his dongsaeng continued complaining, probably pouting on the other side of the world.

“Sorry, I was preoccupied”, Woosung mumbled, eyes falling shut against his will again. “Yeah, I’m home. I’ll send you a pic later.”

“What can be more important than pictures of your fur baby?”, Dojoon asked, sounding fake heart-broken. Woosung imagined him clutching his heart for dramatic effect.

“Dude, I had the worst flight ever, and puked in a public park - twice - and in the hallway of my eomma’s home. I feel awful. Cut me some slack”, Woosung grumbled, a bit of annoyance flaring at his dongsaeng.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Now there was gentle concern in the younger’s voice, mixed with guilt. Woosung had not wanted to cause these feelings but he also was not up to joking.

“Did you just listen to a word I said?”

“Grumpy”, Dojoon commented but then more gently, “are you just airsick still or do you think you’re sick? With all the traveling and stress I wouldn't even be surprised.”

“I don’t know. Eomma said I got a fever. Maybe I picked up something somewhere”, Woosung said, defeatedly. Frustration prickled at his whole being and he felt really close to snapping again.

“I’m sorry you're feeling unwell”, Dojoon offered, “anything I can do?”

“You’re in Korea, how would you imagine that?”, Woosung spat, then immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, Leo, I just feel awful. It’s not you.”

“Yeah, I gathered. Feel better soon, okay? Call if you want to.”

“Thanks, Leo. Greet the kids from me.”

Somehow he had the feeling he would be bothered by a lot of messages and calls soon. He found he didn’t mind at all. 

🌹

As he hung up, his eomma came back into the living room.

“Dojoon?”, she guessed, lifting her hand to hear ear to mimic a phone.

Woosung nodded. “Yeah, just checking in. He wants pictures of Woolfy.”

“I’ll send him some later”, she said with a wink. “Do you feel like trying some light soup?”

Alone the thought of that turned his stomach and he shook his head. He didn’t want to eat. He wanted sleep and, more importantly, comfort.

“Eomma?”, he asked quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I know, I’m an adult but …” He broke off, frustrated he couldn’t bring himself to speak more.

“Yeah?”, she asked tenderly. Her tone of voice calmed him down and she came to sit on the armrest by his head, stroking his hair.

“Can I just have a hug?”

“Of course, Sammy-ah. You’re always going to be my baby, you don’t have to even ask.”

Already half asleep he cuddled into her, letting her brush his hair back like she did when he was sick as a child and with a content sigh, he fell asleep.

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - The Rose  

[algolagniaa]

this astrological chart is driving me crazy bc if you read the notes they’re all about what house everything is in but there are only ten houses in this chart. and why is there a south node but no north node. what the fuck is Pisces is Capricorn supposed to mean. if you count the houses the Libra stellium is in the 5th house not the 6th. which puts Neptune in the 7th but even if it was in the 8th how the fuck is that a significant evil demonic placement. why does the part of fortune have to signify a person. Capricorn is the sign of antagonism and fatality??? I’m a Capricorn rising is that why everyone’s scared of me??? Baphomet does NOT rule in Cancer but tbh I’ll accept that as fact bc I know how Cancers be

[hellowoolf]

hello :)<3

on this day, my 21st birthday, i’d like to cut my tongue out on here in some lovely way. i’ve taken an extended hiatus, not for lack of creativity but because writing has felt acutely intimate lately in a way that has felt really individual. i’ve written a lot about me, and a lot for me, and though it has cost me time to write fic i am thankful for the work i’ve made. anyway !! as i get philosophical about aging, something entirely inappropriate for a now 21 year old, i wanted to make sure i came on to say to each of you who has interacted with my small library of work on here, i am genuinely so fabulously grateful. my little band of mutuals and followers: i sincerely have so much love for you all !!!

what i’ve said before and will say again: i hope to come back to writing fic soon. i really do mean it. in the meantime, know i’m sending all possible tenderness and love :D🤍🤍🍓🍓

love, woolfie

[dailycowperson]

The Cowperson of the Day is: Red Hot Riding hood from Wild and Woolfy (1945)!

[crusheswhimsandfancies]

[jakethefurry]

what will this video be animated with:

[miqoting]

woolfie

[wolfythewitch]

Wolfy, do you pronounce wolf as Wool-f or just Woof

I just think that woofy sounds like a hilarious online pseudonym

I pronounce the wolf. Though there was a time Phil used to pronounce my name as wulfy/woolfy, which was pretty funny

[coffeedepressionsoup]

Somebody Does Love | MYG - She Thinks She Falls First

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where she explores her very mild crush on him. Part 5 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 4k+

Warnings - lil swearing, drinking, Yoongi’s fluffy hair, Yoongi’s hands

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona @7ndipity

A/N - I start working a 10-hour shift in less than two hours and I have not slept a wink. This has been sitting in drafts for way too long and I have no idea why I was resolute to finish it today. It might seem a bit all over the place, but hey, welcome to my head, I live like this.

The word count is definitely not my way of overcompensating for the prolonged absence. Partially proofread. The chapter naming has been lame. I know. But it is what it is. Also here is the closest thing I found on the internet to the Woolfie + Ash dynamic I am imagining. And the Yoongi in my mind as I was writing this, in case you are wondering.

I am using my last two brain cells to upload this. Please like, comment, and reblog to share your thoughts and feedback. DM me if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list. This delirious fever dream is now yours to deal with. Enjoy!

“I mean it’s the cutest smirk ever and I know “smirks a lot” does not paint an endearing picture, but like- what he has mostly is not a smile, but you know he is having a good time. Like he’s too lazy to have a full grin and the best he can do is pull up his lips slightly and-”

----------------------------------------------------------

“I still don’t understand what you mean by a memorable smirk. Why are you bothered at all by someone’s smirk?”

“This is borderline creepy now. Why-”

“Are you not listening? He’s just cute and I cannot forget about his smile.”

“Well, isn’t he too lazy to-”

“UGH!! You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, you have it bad.”

“I don’t have anything. And it’s not bad…”

“But?”

“He’s cute. Funny. Attentive. And nice hands.”

“Really?” In their almost half an hour conversation, it’s the first genuine curiosity Samairah has shown about your supposed crush.

You now had a triumphant smirk yourself and nodded, “Yes, very nice hands.”

“You do realise that you can yourself ask him out?” Samairah quirked her brows, her tone reminding you of a disappointed tutor.

“I know! But bro! He’s really good friends with Sammy and they work closely and it can get so messy.”

It has been 10 days since you walked in on Sammy and Yoongi in the middle of a songwriting session at almost midnight. 10 days since you knew for sure that Yoongi’s hair felt softer than it already looked. 10 days since your first -

“Sure it can. But it can go well too especially since he seems interested as well,” Samairah said after gulping down the rest of her banana oat smoothie.

You could not help but bark out a disbelieving laughter, “Yeah right..”

“What?”

“He seems interested, you said.”

“Yeah and?”

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

“Why?”

Because he is an international icon and probably the hottest rapper-producer on planet Earth and you were whoever you are. But you did not want to tell her that. In fact, all Samairah knew about your “crush” was that you met him at a house party and he is close with one of your best friends. Not that you wanted to lie or actively hide anything from her. She had not asked for a name when you had not given one. And she did not mind that. She knew you would have your reasons and will tell her if and when you want to. Your friendship was comfortable like that.

All you said out loud was, “Because he does not seem interested. You are just saying shit because you want me to ask him out.”

“And that would be a bad motivator why exactly?” Before you could fully roll your eyes at the rhetorical question, she started listing out in a matter-of-fact tone, overstating her points by holding up a finger with each of them, “You are clearly infatuated with him. Also, to be quite honest everything you told me up until now screams like the first few chapters of an idiot-to-lovers trope story.”

“Fucking hell! Hold your horses Mari. What lovers? We haven’t even gone on a single date yet.”

“He made japchae the exact way you like it, the very next day that you talked about it, which was apparently also the day you first met!” Samairah’s exasperated tone shut you up. It did strike you as odd when that happened. But you remember feeling more endeared and way too many butterflies in your gut at his presence to register and/or question the legitimacy of his “made too much” excuse at the time.

“And he’s dropping by willy-nilly wherever you are at.”

No, I mean, he had very valid reasons all of those times. Right?

Right.

Even at the vet’s appointment for Ash earlier that week.

He could not possibly have waited a couple more days till you were all supposed to meet at Aera’s place to return the portable charger he borrowed. You might need it on your daily commute and if anything, nobody should be trapped in Seoul traffic with a dead phone. What would you stare at? The people in the car window next to you? The ones hanging off the same supporting rail as you on the train? No, Yoongi had been considerate.

Sammy had turned up at Genius Lab aka Yoongi’s studio and they played around with the chorus of the song they were working on one afternoon. Once they were satisfied with a structure, Sammy politely turned down Namjoon’s offer for a drink (which caught Yoongi’s attention because when has any of his friends ever declined a drink) on his way out, saying he had to drive Y/N and Ash to the vet since you don’t feel comfortable driving on Seoul roads yet, despite carrying a valid International Driver's Permit.

The mention of your name drove Yoongi quieter and turned his ears and cheeks red at an alarming speed. Did the boys notice? Yes. Did Yoongi catch them exchanging a knowing smirk following that? No. Did he ask for details of the vet clinic and the time of appointment? Yes. Did he say out loud that he is free to drive Y/N, in fact, he would gladly volunteer? No. Did Sammy update an innocuous group chat with Yoongi’s ‘being in the neighbourhood and deciding impulsively to give the power bank back’ appearance later that evening? Yes. Did anyone buy that excuse? No.

Not even you. Not when he sputtered it out initially. Not when he took off his mask momentarily in an almost empty reception to shower Ash with a bunch of kisses. Not even when a pang of unspecified recognition hit you. You did not believe him.

Just Sunday night, that is tonight, Aera had invited all her close friends for a housewarming party. You first met her a couple of years ago through Dojoon. She was a doctor. And Dojoon’s friend. With some benefits. There are times when their friends swear they are dating. Then there are times when they know not to speak of each other in front of them. The fact that Aera’s new apartment is directly across from the hall from Dojoon’s is officially supposed to be coincidental. She apparently realised after she finalised with the agent that she was standing in a familiar hallway. And yeah, every one of you decided to believe it, of course.

So yeah, the charger return could have waited but you decided to believe it was because Yoongi did promise to return it ASAP and that particular Wednesday evening was it. He was a man of his word. He had flown away for a short work trip to Osaka for two days. His phone was almost out of charge. He had to drive directly to the airport. In fact, Soojin was waiting for him, with all his essentials on standby. You, however, figured he would not have time to get his charger. So you voluntarily offered your portable one to him.

He could just use the direct charger in his car. But you did not think of it at the moment. And Yoongi did not remind you of it. He took the one you offered. Used it on his way to the airport, through his stay in Osaka and charged it back up once he returned, carrying it around in his jacket with his wallet and keys.

Now, as to why would you be with him when his phone was almost dying and he was about to fly out of the country? It’s because Yoongi was at Sammy’s place, trying to write a song. Pleasantly buzzed on beer and completely engrossed in the task. And you were, as of the last discussion on the matter, Sammy’s housemate. Yes, plans changed since you first arrived in the city, and you would say for the better. Living with Sammy was not as chaotic as you anticipated and once you saw Ash and Woolfie bonding, you did not have the heart to separate them or yourself away from the duo. And the “people always coming over to Sammy’s and not having the bandwidth to deal with it” was not a particular problem at the moment.

You had grown quite fond of the most frequent visitor.

The first night you walked in to unexpectedly find Yoongi at Sammy’s place, you remember the knots building up in your stomach. You had not yet acknowledged your evident crush on him. You would think the older people got, the easier it was to deal with all this. Bullshit.

It did not help that soon after Sammy left to walk Woolfie. You tried to keep your tone and conversation as neutral as possible. And you would like to believe you succeeded. Once you managed to convince him to stay for dinner (to be honest, all you had to do was ask once), you excused yourself to go wash up. You squealed into your damp towel as you found yourself carefully styling your hair to appear as carelessly proper as possible.

Your squeal had not reached Yoongi several rooms away but it had managed to wake your fur baby up from her nap. She yawned, stretched, itched the back of her ears with her paws and marched out of your room alongside you to greet the man. The greeting she extended was calculated for the first couple of minutes, as she went around sniffing and staring at him from different angles around his feet. Soon she decided to lick her stamp of approval on his nose once she allowed him to pick her up. Since then she remained on his lap, by his feet or on his shoulder, till the time he left.

The conversation, guided by Ash’s heartwarming existence, revolved comfortably around pets. He asked about your childhood pets and told you about his. He also proudly spoke about the different personalities of Tony and Scar, his two rescue cats. Once you asked to see pictures, you were allowed to surf through two whole albums with hundreds of photos of the cats as well as Holly, the famed cockapoodle.

You caught yourself staring at him a few times that night, making you the second person to do so. You stared at his bright, warm eyes that had a certain glimmer that you could not define. Sometimes you stared at the way he threw back his head in laughter and the bobble of his Adam’s apple. Oh, his laughter! The sound of it! The look of it! You noticed it more than you did the previous night. The lines it created around his mouth and his eyes, you wanted to trace them lightly with your fingers and later intertwine them with his slender ones. Not just his fingers though, you noticed the way his forearm would subtly flex every time he pushed his hair back in the middle of conversation. And his fucking hair.

It is the softest head of hair you have ever seen, you could swear. You thought it was difficult not to actually reach out and feel it on the first night he came over. That was until the second time. You were sitting much closer together at that time. You were much more drunk than the two beers you had with dinner the last time. You also had much more daydreaming under your belt about the man sitting beside you. If you had not chickened out at the last minute, you wondered if you could thread your fingers in his hair to hold him closer in a kiss. You wondered the same at different times on different days till 10 days back.

You were pretty drunk from the departmental dinner with your colleagues. Samairah had been on driving duty that evening and pretty sober. She offered to walk you to the elevators of the building when she came to drop you off but you promised you could manage by yourself. And you did. But the walls along the way were integral to your vertical stability.

In half a mind to ring the bell instead of punching the code in, you leaned against the doorframe for a few moments. Composing yourself a bit, you let yourself in, steady enough to walk straight, away from walls.

As you walked towards the hall area, you heard guitar strumming and distinct humming voices. Voice-s. Multiple. Two, to be precise. And you need not be alarmed. The second voice could be anybody. Except it wasn’t. You recognised Yoongi’s deep, now slightly raspy voice over Sammy’s. Before you turned from the narrow entryway to the room, you could feel your heartbeat rise and your hands started feeling clammy.

The boys did not notice you come in.

As Sammy lightly hummed a melody and typed into the laptop in front of him, Yoongi kept playing a distinct hook on what you recognised as one of Sammy’s guitars.

“Do you see what I mean-” Yoongi asked and paused before changing to a different set of chords, this one more mellow than before. With the change, you noticed his tongue slightly poke out the side of his mouth, set in deep concentration.

Sammy took a sip out of an opened can of beer lying on the floor between them. Who knows which is whose anymore? He nodded looking down at his phone, and started singing some words out with the tune he was humming before.

Yoongi let out a non-verbal sound you could best define as a soft groan of approval as you saw him changing the chords to match the tune Sammy was singing.

You probably would have stood there till either of the two turned to see you. But your phone pinged with a notification alert and although it wasn’t too loud, it stood out enough for both Yoongi and Sammy to pivot from their places on the ground near the sofa.

Feeling conscious of the newly gained attention of the whole room, you tried to laugh off the cocktail of nervous surprise and drunken flush. “Hi,” you waved a little.

Sammy patted the spot next to him, sipping on one of the open beers again, “Come listen to this,” and started humming again.

You walked over as steadily and casually as possible and when you sat down, you could hear a soft “hi” escape Yoongi’s slightly parted lips. You smiled at him and could see a smile threatening to break out on his face as well, which appeared when you said, “You’re red,” and immediately bit your lips because ‘Wow were you drunk.’

Yoongi tried his best to explain that it was just the alcohol and that it was uncharacteristically hot tonight. You nodded and decided to honour his failing defence once your eyes met. But you also felt like you could see through him at the time. You could seemingly read a similar pining and nervousness within him that you felt. But you tried convincing yourself that half of it was spirit-induced delusions.

“Is this a new song?” you leant over to see the laptop screen which Sammy turned slightly for your ease and nodded.

“Genius here wrote this under 10 minutes,” he gestured towards the accused.

Yoongi felt “redder” but it physically was not possible. His sense of embarrassment, however, was graver than before. “Fuck no, I just came up with some beats. Sammy filled these in,” he protested and leaned over to trace over the mixer timeline on the laptop.

To do that though, he had to lean over you. Partly. And when he did, there was a pregnant pause in the room.

Yoongi stilled the moment he could feel your breath fanning his ear. You froze when you caught a whiff of his… shampoo? Cologne? Aftershave? All of it? You were not a perfumer by any means, but if your olfactory senses served you right, you are pretty sure that is the best smell any human being has ever exuded. Contrarians could argue with the wall.

Sammy was not unmoving but he chose to remain quiet with a wide grin on his face.

Yoongi withdrew after a millenium-long two-second pause and cleared his throat.

You followed suit and said, “It sounds good regardless. Fresh,” to neither of the boys in particular. All your drunken slur had vanished in a whiff of what you decided your favourite smell was going to be henceforth.

Later in the night, once you freshened up and made coffee for everyone, and the guitar and laptop were put away, you all ended up talking about life, love and well, love life.

Sammy believed in the possibility of love at first sight, as did Yoongi. “Yeah, I think it is quite romantic. I don’t think it happens to many people or as often as people claim. But I believe it is a reality for some people.”

After taking in the silent nods across the room, he tipped his slightly towards you, and asked, “What about you?”

“Oh I don’t believe it exists,” you said after a small sip of your flat white.

“Love at first sight?”

“Yeah”

“Doesn’t exist?”

“I cannot imagine it does, no,” you chuckled out this time at Yoongi’s apparent disbelief.

Yoongi nodded slowly, with a smile of his own accompanied by a slight scowl.

Sammy, having chugged his hazelnut cold coffee, was now lying on the couch, half asleep. He nudged Yoongi’s back lightly with his knee, and said, “Ask her why.”

“Go the fuck off to slee-”

“Why?”

You cursed out and Yoongi asked sincerely at the same moment. Your eyes met.

You swore you could get lost in them, stare at them forever. Memorise every line and freckle.

“I don’t think it’s practical.”

“Love is wild, subjective. It does not need to be practical or rational.”

“There’s a semblance of cause for the effect that we experience as love. They are adorable,” you pointed to Wooflie and Ash locked in a defensive face-off mid-zoomies on the other side of the room. You then moved to point at the guitar and the laptop, “This brings you joy.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. You had concluded by now that was indicative of his increased attention level. You continued, “We know they are likely to leave us behind one day and you know making music and putting it out there is tough, challenging but you love these anyway. I think we choose to love something or someone despite a lot of shortcomings or adversities. Not because they behave in a manner or look a certain way. And I believe you need more than a sight for that to happen.”

You drew in a deep breath and looked away. You had held his gaze for too long than is comfortable for him, you thought. And then you rambled on about love. It sounded so annoying and pretentious when you thought back. You were certain that you had sabotaged any budding chance for romance you had by dissing on something as romantic as love at first sight.

All that was conjecture, of course, but you would not find out about that until much later.

Yoongi’s scowl remained as it was when he said, “That is so romantic.”

Before you could reply, Sammy quipped in. “That she is.”

It made Yoongi smile and you huff lightly in mock disbelief. The conversation was then interrupted by you being tackled down by Woolfie. Unbeknownst to you, the zoomies area of dispatch had shifted to where you were sitting.

You laughed as you pet the husky back when he licked your face and play-growled at Ash to join in. The cat, however, refused to get on the floor as if it was lava. She marched promptly from one of the armrests on the sofa, to a cushion near Sammy’s head. She then gently kneaded into the cushion, occasionally sniffing and biting into it.

One moment of bliss but soon chaos erupted.

The cushion burst open in the room, spilling the contents within the room and onto Sammy and Yoongi, who were closer to the scene of the crime.

Either spooked by the loud noise or to escape admonishment, the kitten responsible for the mishap had darted back to the other end of the room. Woolfy followed suit.

You looked at Sammy, who had miraculously fallen asleep in the few seconds since his cocky quip, evident from the soft snores, and then locked eyes with Yoongi once more.

By his episodic blinking and alert posture, you could tell he was startled. Once he met your eyes though, both of you fell into a giggle as you took in the situation and saw the cotton all over, especially on him.

He managed to dust off most of it, collecting it all and intentionally dropping and arranging it over Sammy’s unfazed body. You laughed louder seeing the juvenile prank unfold, but quickly covered your face to muffle it lest you wake your friend up.

Once you managed to gather your composure, you saw a cotton ‘snowman’ over Sammy’s torso and the likeness of a Santa beard over his face. As all true friends should, the two of you were quick to pull out your phone and click a respectable couple of images before turning to look at each other again.

With every time your eyes met, you felt like you could understand more of what they said. This time around, it was something like, “I am glad I have this moment with you.” You fiercely agreed with the thought, internally, of course. It was not all conjecture. But you did not know yet.

You looked around and realised the mess once again. Sooner or later you had to clean it up. The easiest place to begin was the cups. You picked up two and on cue, Yoongi grabbed the third as you filed towards the kitchen.

He caught up to you in two strides and at the sink, grabbed for the washpad first. At your silent protests of a frown and attempt to grab the item back, “Please, I got this.”

It was soft. Short. Sure. Sweet?!

You were about to sigh and step back when your eyes went to his hair. Well, you didn’t mean to ogle at him up close but a couple of balls of lint caught in his dark locks disrupted your plans.

Almost instinctively, you reached out and murmured, “Oh, you have-”

Words got stuck in your throat. You could almost feel the air being kicked out of your system when you felt his soft hair under your fingers. You did not move your hands for a beat. And two.

And on the third, as you pulled the lint out, you could not help, but lightly comb through the side of his head.

Once, for good measure. Twice, for good luck. Cannot have lints clumped wildly on THE Min Yoongi’s hair now of course.

At the second glide of your nails against his head, Yoongi choked in a bubbling moan but shut his eyes to feel it better, to relieve the tingle and just take it all in.

However, the tingle also caused his arms to jerk in a manner that knocked off the cup he was meant to be washing off his hands.

As both of you scrambled to prevent another household item from being destroyed that night, you were caught in another unblinking stare-off with Yoongi. You managed to grab the cup from hitting the floor and Yoongi ended up ‘cupping’ your hands.

The touch. Electrifying. Not just figuratively. You could sense this all over. And it was just his palms over the back of your hands.

Despite them being wet, his hands were quite warm. Immediately then you decided what your favourite hand warmer was.

Your heart rate picked up at an alarming rate though once you felt one of his thumbs rub a small spot over your hands.

Your gaze, still unmoving. Your breaths, unsteady.

You possibly would have stayed in that staredown, had Yoongi’s phone not vibrated in his pocket, with a call from Soojin, asking him to leave on time for the airport, since earlier today the global rap sensation requested his manager to allow him to drive to the airport himself. Change of pace, more time alone with his thoughts, he thought.

Scurrying out for the airport while touching (almost holding) your hands was not on his bingo card. But there he was.

[glitterwolfvi]

Woolfy & Wally. I wonder what they're talking about

note: Woolfred Wolfgang is NOT a Welcome Home OC. he is part of my work in progress comic!

[sleepy-crypt1d]

look at how happy and cozy my cat is rn youd never suspect that yesterday he jumped on my shelf shelf and ripped a screw out of the wall- sending the urn of my previous cat to tumble under my bed

[macfrog]

hi hi lovely !!

first of all just saw you tag me in tag game i swooned will post mine at some point tomorrow i’m elated

and because i can’t help myself i’m putting on my big girl pants and sending you an ask for it…scom…has….taken over my life….so…with absolutely no pressure…how is she :D<33

hi my angel woolfie !!! so excited always and forever for all of your wips!! 🩷

scom is good! the doc is currently looking a bit like that drawer nobody ever opens: a tangle of cables, a scattered sewing kit and three dead batteries rolling around but i swear i will string it into something pretty for you soon.

at risk of giving too much away, the chapter is going to see us through duckie's birth, reader and joel adjusting to this new, weird, kind of terrifying life as first-time parents, and dealing with that little........issue, beginning with v and ending in is so annoying i wish she would fuck o-

it's a hoot! i hope y'all don't hate me too much for it. the veeery last 3 lines in it are my fav of the whole series. :-)

[algolagniaa]

having minions is so fun I need to get more minions

[hellowoolf]

woolfie's masterlist

overall notes: none of my fics will ever use y/n and ALL of them are 18+. minors dni !!

series:

on strawberries and masonry [completed except for epilogue]:

pairing: jackson!joel x fem!reader

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company.

word count: 28.3k

one shots:

electra heart:

pairing: din jarin x prostitute fem!reader

summary: with the softness of your body you have bought your piece of luxury, clawed your way to opulence, and wait now on the lustful whims of the rich and powerful. what havoc is wreaked when the only client you've ever loved, your mandalorian, finds you in the golden smoke of a gala on canto bight?

word count: 4.7k