#I’m burnt out and the only thing that will fix it is time to relax and process my trauma but that’s physically unobtainable for me right now

[linuxthegeek]

-

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊you and your daughter make breakfast for gojo’s birthday. unlucky for you, gojo’s a little impatient.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.3k words. established relationship. the reader is referred as “mommy” by the kid & “wife” from gojo, but other than that there’s no use of fem terms.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊ for the sake of this scenario everyone pretend it’s december 7th & it’s gojo’s birthday

you hold the bowl of pancake batter, its creamy consistency clinging to the sides. with a gentle tilt, you pour the batter onto the pan, creating round pools of golden goodness. the batter spreads, forming wonky circles that sizzle and bubble as they cook. the aroma of the pancakes fills the air, a tantalizing scent that promises a delicious breakfast. you can’t help but turn up the heat so that they cook faster.

“mommy, i think i’m turning into a minion,” your daughter calls out from behind.

you turn around, only to find her sitting at her mini table. her eyes are fixed on her tiny fingers, that are spread out in front of her.

“what do you mean?" your words hang in the air momentarily before you turn your gaze back to the stove. with a flick of your wrist, you flip the pancakes, their golden surfaces glistening in the warm light.

“’m turning purple! look!”

you take another glance back. her hands in the air being the first thing you see. but, then you notice the bag of blueberries sitting on the table.

your lips quiver as you fight to stifle your smile. “baby, it’s the the blueberries you’re munching on that are making you purple.”

her eyes widen, she lowers her hands, and this time she looks at them with a slight pout.

you return to making pancakes, plating the few that seemed to be done. one was on the verge of being burned, and you intended to give it to gojo. he's been calling you nonstop ever since you came downstairs this morning, asking for updates on his birthday breakfast. you're sure if it hadn't been for your baby girl (who insisted on giving her father breakfast in bed), you'd have forced him get up and do it himself by now.

"mommy, can we put blueberries in the pancakes? pretty please?”

“of course.”

you don’t need to turn around to know what your child is up to. you hear the unmistakable sound of her stuffing blueberries into her mouth. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you imagine the adorable scene unfolding behind you.

"yay!! speci...purpl...pancakes!" the excitement in her voice is evident, even with her mouth full.

"hey! if you're gonna be putting blueberries in the pancakes, you can't be eatin-" just then, your phone rings.

you catch a glimpse of the screen, noticing the familiar contact photo under 'my love'. oh, he's definitely getting a burnt pancake. you might even make another on purpose.

knowing he'll just ask about breakfast, you decide to watch it ring. he calls at least twice before his voice echoes through the house, urgently calling for his daughter to answer the phone. with blueberry-stained hands, she skips to the counter, reaching for your phone and answering it.

“hi daddy!” she waves in the camera.

“hi my sweet girl, what’s your momma doing?”

she turns the phone around, and through the camera, gojo can see you plating the remaining pancakes from the pan.

“those are the boring pancakes, mama’s making purple ones next!”

“can i have some of the boring ones first? i’m starving,” your husband whines.

“no, no, no! mama said you have to wait.”

“can i see that?” you fumble, trying to find a clean spot on your apron to wipe your hands off.

your daughters huffs at gojo, eager to hand over the phone and retreats to her table.

on the screen, you’re greeted by the sight of gojo’s smile and his relaxed, sprawled-out posture.

despite his sweet face, you hover your finger over the end call button anyway. “bye satoru.”

his smile drops. “that’s not even fair. it’s been—what—an hour?”

“with lots of breaks thanks to you.”

“you can talk to me and cook…bonus points for me being able to watch you.”

at that, you roll your eyes.

he frowns. "what?”

“a few more minutes of waiting won’t hurt.” you press the "end call" button, cutting off gojo’s pleads mid-sentence.

he’ll be fine.

you gently place your phone on the counter, shifting your focus to your little one. with a warm smile, you ask, "you wanna add the blueberries now, baby?"

"huh?" she mumbles, raising her head from where she was plucking at her fingers. "what did y’say?”

you playfully shake the bowl of leftover pancake batter in front of your face, capturing your daughter's attention. it's your way of letting your daughter in on the secret, a non-verbal cue to convey what exciting plan you have in store next. “you ready?”

"yes!" she runs towards you, giggling uncontrollably. in her hands, she's got the bag of half-eaten blueberries. the ones you specifically told her not to keep munching on, but she couldn't really resist. as she draws near, she extends her hands high into the air, a silent request for you to lift her onto the counter. without hesitation, your arms embrace your little one, effortlessly hoisting her up. in a matter of seconds, she’s perched on the counter.

you both scoop a handful of blueberries, and sprinkle the berries into the bowl of leftover pancake batter, watching as the vibrant blue jewels disappear into the mixture.

just as you two start to get lost in your pancake-making, a faint sound of footsteps echoes from upstairs. your girl’s eyes widen as gojo sluggishly descends the stairs, rubbing his eyes and tousling his hair.

for a split second, you manage to catch his attention. you raise your brow, wondering if he ever learned the basics of patience (or if he learned patience at all). but, true to his slow demeanor, he remains unfazed, maintaining his relaxed pace.

with a sleepy smile, he joins you at the kitchen counter, wrapping his hands around your middle. the feeling is pure warmth, like a human blanket. it's amazing how, even after so much physical contact, his touch manages to make you feel cozier with each touch.

you lean in closer to him, trying to catch what he whispered in your ear. "hm? what was that?"

“food?”

you sigh, “I wanted us to all eat it together. when it’s done?”

he groans and retreats, making a beeline for the ready-made pancakes. you catch his eye and shout, "uhn uh!"

as your daughter continues to drop blueberries in the bowl, you quickly place your hand over her lap to keep her steady. with your other hand, you tug on gojo's sleeve. you give him a gesture to come back, and he follows your lead.

“I’ll do it,” you say.

you head over to the counter where the finished pancakes are, and plate a single piece. as you bring it to him, you glance at the black crispy top and think, "I definitely should've made more of these."

you slide the plate in front of him, and your daughter cringes at the sight. “ta-da! happy birthday baby! since it’s a special day I tried a new recipe and…” you shrug.

gojo licks his lips, bites them, and lets out a breathy laugh. he keeps glancing at you and then the pancakes, repeating the sequence.

you nod your head and motion towards the food with an open hand. “I thought you wanted to eat?”

glancing cautiously at his daughter, he replies, “wow, babe. you really outdid yourself this time. burnt pancakes?” he turns to you. “and you said you were a ‘better cook’ than me.”

you ignore his comment. “maybe I should make these more often? I kn— “

“oh, absolutely. I mean, who needs fluffy, huge pancakes when you can have charcoal—“ he picks up the pancake, “discs?”

with your daughter's laughter in the background, it creates a unique blend. it adds charm to your conversation, despite the contrasting moods.

you cross your arms, “you should be proud I made them without shape cutters. pretty creative,” you pause. “now eat up.”

“there’s no way in hell y—“

“daddy has to put money in the swear jar!”

[ct2n]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Tips for burnout

Shifterss *ੈ✩‧₊˚

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚ Shifting motivation *ੈ✩‧₊˚—

u are in charge of ur journey, not anyone else. So if u don’t wanna shift again or “can’t” shift then take a break. Shifting isn’t a job or a career, it’s a skill u choose to use. Shifting doesn’t have to be difficult or complicated or frustrating.

Shifting also isn’t something u have to do right now. If u haven’t shifted yet then that’s fine but also take a moment to reflect on what’s causing u not to shift. Maybe it’s a method ur using, or ur head isn’t in the best place right now. Whatever it is, u need to deal with it to help u shift. I’m not saying u can’t shift without having worries or doubts or fears, but some things may be pushing u back or holding u back from shifting.shifting is 100% real so shift when u know ur ready. It may take a good minute but trying is better then not trying at all.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚ Shifting mindset*ੈ✩‧₊˚—

reprogram ur mind to shift, if ur stuck on one aspect of shifting or ur not fully understanding how shifting works dont let that hold u back from shifting. U don’t have to understand something fully for mind to do it, u can just do it. Finding the mental block that keep holding u back and reprogramming ur mind to let go of that belief or behavior surrounding shifting. Will help u over come ur burn out and find out why it may not be happening for u right now.

Take some time to reflect on ur past shifting journey and try to figure out some reasons why u keep getting burnt out. Maybe ur focused on the wrong things like having ur script finished. Or ur not consistent enough with ur journey, or maybe ur to analytical about ur shifting journey. Whatever it maybe find it and accept it and move on. Change that part of ur journey and continue moving on. I’m not saying obess over that for weeks im saying use that to better urself and not do it in the future.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚Taking Breaks *ੈ✩‧₊˚—

Take a break from ur shifting journey, and use that time to focus on something else, weather that be school, an hobby or just life in general. Take time to self reflect and care for urself. Shifting should be easy but if it isn’t that’s completely fine too but all im saying is if it’s getting more difficult for u, relax for a little bit then come back to shifting. And yk u must think “well what if im about to shift” or something like that. Baby shifting will always be there but ur mental health and time won’t. Burning urself out before u get to ur dr will make not only ur cr self burnt out but also ur dr self to. If you were to shift when u weren’t ready there might be things in ur dr that ur not prepared for mentally. Which will cause further damage to ur mental health then if u just took a break.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚Stop putting shifting on a pedestal *ੈ✩‧₊˚—

Shifting isn’t a new idea or new concept that can magically fix ur problems. Shifting is real and when u shift all ur doing is shift to another version of life, it may be a slightly better version but it’s still life. When u realize that you’ll stop putting shifting on this high standard in ur life. Shifting is a skill and how u wanna use it is dependent on u. So don’t expect to shift to ur dr and have a magically time just cause u thought ur dr was some fanfic or fantasy for urself. Shifting is fun but only if u realize it’s a real thing. U will experience those things in ur dr and u will experience sadness and happiness.

Don’t use shifting as a way to escape ur cr. Like I said about it being real dont use it as a way to escape ur cr problems. Shifting is just shifting it isn’t a magical tool that will fix everything in ur life.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚—

Ik some of the stuff in here isn’t all sunshine in rainbows but some of yall needed to hear this stuff. But take care of urself and u will shift!!

[bked0n-lorazepam]

"Inseparable" Part Eleven

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Short Little Summary: They try to make pancakes, she gets fed up with him, a little something something occurs during shower time, and Patrick is a very possessive guy. (He gets a little freaky at the end)

Warnings: Vulgar language, groping, suggestive, no actual smut.

Words: 1,997

A/N: Chat, I'm so embarrassed right now, how could I forget this part. Anyway, I think cock-blocking Patrick is my favorite thing to do, it's so much fun. And sorry if you're favorite flower is carnations, I just thought of some random one, and sorry if you like cheese. Have fun reading, feedback is always welcome!!

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“What the fuck am I doing wrong?” Patrick yelled while holding onto the baking mix box, reading over the directions. Y/N sat on the counter, chewing on the leftover chocolate chips they didn’t use.

Patrick somehow ended up burning the pancakes, twice, so she gave up on breakfast. 

“Maybe stop staring at my tits and actually watch them cook.” She said and swung her legs back and forth, shoving a handful of chocolate chips in her mouth.

He glared at her and threw out the burnt pancakes, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the pan on the stove.

“I’m done with that shit.” Patrick murmured and opened the fridge, a slice of cheese appearing in his hand.

Y/N looked at him distastefully, her hatred of cheese showing all over her face. She hated the texture, the way it smelled, the way it tasted. She hated cheese more than she hated anything in the world, and she would forever stand by the fact that it was a food made by the devil himself.

Patrick slapped the cheese onto the counter next to Y/N, to which she flinched from the sudden loud noise.

“I want pancakes.” She whined, setting down the jar of chocolate chips and leaning back on her hands. Patrick took his eyes away from the cheddar on the counter to look at her, and he sneered.

“So make them your fucking self, lazy bitch.” He counteracted her complaint and picked the cheese slice back up, opening it and pulling off a small piece. His mischievous eyes didn’t stray from her tired ones as he chewed on the cheese like a damn cow.

“Fine, you fucking asshole.” Y/N hopped off the counter and wiped off any chocolate chips that may have been on her clothes before getting the stove and pan ready for pancakes, once again.

She had fixed up all the ingredients, after berating Patrick for somehow forgetting to add eggs into the pancake mix, and stood by the stove, watching her food cook.

Patrick was sitting down in one of the chairs that he stole from the dining room and was chewing on a plastic straw when Y/N had placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

“Bon appétit.” She smiled exhaustingly, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. She needed something to wake herself up for, but she didn’t know what.

Well, she didn’t know until she bit into one of her pancakes. “I think I’m gonna take a shower and do my makeup when we’re done eating.” 

“I don’t give a flying fuck.” Patrick was scuffing down the sweet breakfast before pausing and looking at her. “Wait, no. I wanna join.”

“Absolutely not.”

–

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes and lathering the shampoo on her head. Showers were relaxing to her, especially feeling clean. They were her favorite thing in the world.

“Damn, did you know that John Lennon’s dead?”

They were her favorite when Patrick wasn’t with her.

“Yes, Patrick. He’s been dead since, like, forever.” Y/N rolled her eyes and put her head under the water, rinsing her hair out. “What the hell are you reading, anyway?”

“I don’t fucking know, some weird ass magazine.” Patrick threw the paper book away from him on the floor and leaned back on the sink he was sitting on, crossing his arms.”You almost done?”

“No.” Y/N gritted her teeth and started putting conditioner in her hair, using a comb to make sure it was even all around her head. He was so impatient that it drove her insane.

She knew he only sat in the bathroom while she showered because he got to see her breasts when she reached out to grab a towel, and it was one of the things about their friendship that pissed her off.

He always wanted to shower with her, whether he’s the one who needed to shower first or her, he always wanted to be there with her.

Y/N grabbed a washcloth and put her body wash on it while she waited for her conditioner to work in her hair, and she started lathering herself with it.

Patrick smelled the berry scented soap and knew she was getting close to done because that was the second to last step in her routine. 

Vanessa rinsed herself off after, along with her hair, and turned off the water. She stared at the shower curtain that blocked Patrick from viewing her naked body, and thought for a second. 

He’d seen her naked before, even though they were all accidental. Or at least that’s what she told herself they were. She had bought a new body butter from the convenience store and wanted to try it out, and usually she’d ask Patrick for a towel and kick him out, but it always took forever to get him to leave.

She also needed her skin to still be wet when she put the lotion on, so she needed to put it on before drying off.

“‘You good in there?”

“Yup.” Y/N responded and opened the curtain, stepping out of the shower.

To say she felt like a piece of meat being dangled in front of a starving lion was an understatement. She knew he was going to stare at her breasts, like always, but his eyes went straight down her body, and he didn’t look up.

“Are you good?” She watched him lick his lips and smile before he finally looked into her eyes.

“Never better, babe.” He leaned his head against the mirror and sighed, his eyes going straight back to her breasts.

Y/N hummed and rang the leftover water out of her hair, grabbing the tub of body butter. She opened it and he watched her like a hawk watching its prey.

She put some on her fingers and ran it up and down her leg, massaging it before moving onto the other. She then moisturized her arms and looked back at Patrick, their eyes meeting each other's.

“‘Should let me do the rest of you.” He suggested with a serious face. Y/N smiled and tilted her head.

“Be my guest.”

Patrick leapt off the counter and put the same amount of lotion that she did on his own fingers, and she flicked her wet hair off her shoulders. She hated the way her hair felt when it was wet, but she’d put up with it for a bit.

He looked her dead in the eyes and rubbed the lotion all over the palms of his cold hands right before attaching them to her breasts.

She gasped at the cold, a soft ‘fuck’ leaving her lips when his cold fingers pinched at her nipples. “I really hope you know I meant my back and all that shit. Not this.”

“I know.” He grinned, continuing to grope her. His hands roamed the rest of her body as well, resting on her ass. 

She deadpanned and he smirked.

“Seriously?”

“You know me well enough to know that this was going to happen no matter what.” 

Y/N was about to say something when he started to move closer to her, using his grip on her ass as leverage to move her towards him as well, until the doorbell rang. His smile fell from his face and fear quickly flashed over hers, and she pushed him against the counter.

“Ow.” He rubbed at the part of his hips where it connected with the edge of the sink and watched her quickly rush to put clothes on. The doorbell rang again, and again, over and over.

“I’m fucking coming!” She yelled back, pulling her pants on and running to the door, Patrick following behind her.

“You definitely will later.” Patrick snickered and she whipped her head back to him to give him a pointed look. He raised his hands up in mock surrender and Y/N opened the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Patrick interrogated the guy at the door before Y/N could even open her mouth. 

“I’m just, uh. I’m here for Y/N.” The guy gestured to Y/N, and that was when the two friends noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Patrick looked unimpressed and Y/N didn’t know what to do, especially because she didn’t remember him at all. Luckily, she didn’t have to ask him who he was because Patrick was already on that case.

“And you fucking are?” He leaned his body against the side of the door frame and put an arm around Y/N's shoulder. 

The guy grimaced at Patrick and told him his name, “Duke Adams, and you are?”

“Patrick Hockstetter.” The two men held a stare down for a while before Y/N remembered who the guy was.

“Oh, you’re the guy I danced with during freshman year,” She pursed her lips, “You ditched me for Sandra Kellies.”

Duke cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes in embarrassment, and mostly to avoid Patrick’s burning gaze.

Patrick didn’t have a good feeling about the boy, although he never had a good feeling about anyone who would potentially date Y/N. 

“That uh, isn’t exactly a proud moment of my life.” Duke nervously chuckled and looked at Y/N with the sweetest eyes she’d ever seen. She remembered him as the worst guy of her life when she started dating, but for some reason, his eyes made it seem like he’d changed. They held a softer, kinder gaze than when they first met. “These are for you.”

He handed her the bouquet and stepped back a bit, glancing at Patrick. He never let his hardened gaze fall from Duke, and he reminded Duke of a guard dog.

Or more like one with early stages of rabies because he was sure if he didn’t leave soon, Patrick would start growling at him.

“Anyway, my house phone is in the tag, if you ever wanna talk again. I’ve missed you.” Duke smiled and stepped off Y/N's porch, getting into his car and driving away. 

She watched him go and waved him goodbye, her own smile clear on her face. She looked up at Patrick and noticed a look of hatred in his eyes, one she’d seen whenever she’d introduce a guy to him.

He was a possessive and jealous man, she knew that. Even though they weren’t dating or anything, she sure as hell was going to have her fun with him.

“Maybe I should call him.” She taunted and moved his arm off of her and walked back into the house, Patrick following her trail like a dog.

“The fuck are you talking about? He broke your heart, he sure as hell is gonna do it again.” He tried to reason, running up the stairs with her. She placed the bouquet of flowers on one of the small tables in the hallway, to which he noticed what flowers they were.

“They aren’t even your favorite, he got you fucking carnations.” He scoffed and stopped following her when she reached the bathroom and turned around, blocking his way of entering with her.

“Maybe I secretly like them.” She winked, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Don’t try that shit with me.” He put his arm up to hold onto the top of the door frame.

“Hm, oh well. It’s my call anyway, not yours.” She shrugged and smiled, closing the door on his face.

“What the fuck?” He yelled, wanting to continue what they were doing before they were interrupted. 

“Go jerk off or something, I don’t want you to distract me!” She yelled back and he heard the blow dryer turn on.

He groaned and pushed off the wall, making his way to Y/N's bedroom. He sat down on the soft sheets of the bed and looked around, trying to find something to do. His eyes laid on the familiar purple piece of fabric in her laundry bin, and he grinned.

Maybe he’d take up on her suggestion.

[thesymphonytrue]

Hiiiiii I just have to ask if you have any Neal/Peter fic recs? On or off ao3, I'm just really craving some good sweet stories w them 😩

Hiiii!!!!

oooooo yesssss!!! Here are a few that I love:

a particular type of hat by natlet

I am obsessed with this fic. The writing style and language is sooo beautiful. GAH 😭 It's written with quite a few time jumps...so for me I had to take it slow and really enjoy and savor the fic. I mean just read this:

It's the first chance he's had to look at Neal, slow down and really look at him, and he's so - Peter can't find the words for it. Neal looks like a fascinating new case, like Mozzie's car, like the sun setting behind home plate. He looks like something Peter wants to get his hands on. His hair is longer, bleached light by the sun and curling in the sea air, and Peter wants to reach out, brush it back off his forehead, run his thumb along the line of stubble hugging Neal's jaw.

UGH gorgeous!!! I love this paragraph so much and the entire fic is written like this, so soft and beautiful.

this body is yours (your mess is mine) by multifandomjess

This is another fic I have read over and over. It's so well done and "fixes" that season five argument we all cry over 😭

an excerpt:

Peter is still against him, and for a moment Neal is worried that he’s misread everything and made a terrible mistake. But then, Peter makes a tiny, wanting sound and his eyelids are fluttering closed as his lips part beneath Neal’s. Neal smiles into the kiss, his heart racing as he threads his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Peter’s neck. His tongue sweeps along the seam of Peter’s lips to tangle with Peter’s, and they’re kissing, and kissing, and kissing.

T^T it's so soft. and I love it.

Cleaning Out the Wound by melenafrey

More Cape Verde goodness because god those episodes were romantic!! This one features protective Mozzie. 😂

 “Don’t you get what I’m trying to say here?" He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward the short distance to rest against Neal’s. He heard Neal’s surprised intake of breath, and then nothing. Neal stayed, and Peter could feel the weight of his heavy head as he relaxed into the touch.

MY HEART 😭

Company Picnic by laulan

This one is just short and literally sweet and SO them.

Then Neal catches Peter's wrist in his hand and brushes his lips over the pad of Peter's thumb, his eyes warm and devilish. Peter jumps, giving Neal a stern look and pushing down the lingering thought that he should go for it anyway, damn whoever's looking.

lol Neal literally is just tempting Peter this entire fic and it's adorable.

Awakening by Sulwen

haha can you tell I like Cape Verde fics? This one is really good. Very true to their characters.

“This wasn't supposed to be a chase!”

There's a long pause before Peter speaks again. “Tell me, then, Neal. What was it?”

Neal bows his head and stares at the floor, long enough for Peter to step forward again and reach out a tentative hand. He takes a deep breath. This isn't going to help. If anything, it's going to pull Peter in deeper, make him that much more determined. But he's talked himself into a corner, and he can't find a way to slip it. The only way out is through.

THAT DIALOGUE THO!!!

Undeniable by cookiegirl

This one is just cozy and soft and sweet and set in Copenhagen so what is not to like? It's like being wrapped in a warm hug!

Everything would be easier, Peter thinks, if Copenhagen wasn’t so damn romantic. He’s not usually one to notice things like that, but even he can’t miss the way that the October late-afternoon sun turns the water in Nyhavn harbor golden, and deepens the burnt orange and burnished yellow shades of the townhouses. Tourist couples stroll past, hand in hand, or sit close together at the outdoor tables of the tiny canalside cafes, and the air swirls with happy chatter and the strains of restaurant music. It is undeniably idyllic, and it’s making Peter’s skin itch.

Things would also be easier, of course, if Neal wasn’t so damn… Neal.

heeeheee!!!! so cute!!!

Five Kisses That Never Happened by china_shop

Just check out all of china_shop's stuff. I love their Peter/Neal fics and this one is pure fluff and warm feelings.

"Shut up," says Neal and leans into him, kisses him softly, over and over like he'll never get enough.

~~~~~~~

Okay those are my top favorites, but I think I have some more on my bookmarks on AO3 I think, so feel free to check them out. I don't usually recommend my own fics, but if you haven't read them I have a few fluffy Peter/Neal fics as well that I can share here if needed! <3 <3 <3 I hope this helps!! Thanks for the ask! I love talking fanfic!! :D

[breannasfluff]

Eldritch Echoes - 1

The first time the Chain meets Wild, they run. Pure, animalistic horror has them scrambling into the forest and further back up the road with the only thought of run hide get away get away—!

The stranger barely turns around before the road behind him is empty.

20 minutes later, they stand in the middle of the road and argue about why they ran like ninnies.

They decide to try the road in the other direction because either is equally good when they don’t know where they are. A large tent marks out a trading stop; a giant horse head is affixed to the top.

Time pays for beds for all of them in the height of traveling luxury.

They’re sitting around the cooking pot, stirring the dregs of a burnt dinner, when the stranger walks into view.

Half the chain is up and across the clearing before they seem to realize what they did. The others freeze like rabbits.

The only movement is their heads tracking the young man as he strolls up to the counter. A few quick words, a questioning glance their way, and he disappears into the stable.

No one braves going inside for the evening, even with the promise of soft beds.

“Link!” It’s a merchant with a giant backpack the next morning that alerts them to the stranger’s identity.

The stranger, Link, grins and stops to talk to the merchant. How can he stand to remain so close to him? Can’t the man feel the bubbling dread oozing across the grass to curl around their feet?

Business concluded; Link pulls a strange device off his hip while juggling some new items. They disappear in a flash of blue.

Hyrule has an odd look in his eye and makes the first move to walk over. “Well met and well kept. Fair wishes for this fine day.”

The chain’s never heard anything so flowery leave his mouth before. They stare.

Link stares too. “Hi?”

They shouldn’t leave Hyrule to face this creature alone, but their feet are glued to the ground. Time stares with a dim sense of horror at the sensation fluttering on the edge of awareness.

Twilight, a little closer to nature than the others, joins Hyrule’s side in solidarity. He goes stiff under Link’s attention, bristling without moving.

“I’m Link,” the stranger offers, giving an easy smile that doesn’t match the chill running down their backs. He cocks his head and the movement is too sharp. “Do you need help?”

Help is the last thing they want, but it’s soon clear this is a hero joining their quest. They dub him Wild because it’s the nicest adjective they can come up with.

Whatever wears the skin of the hero, it’s not hylian.

When Link first wakes up, he knows nothing, yet he knows everything. Memories of the past and his name are gone, but he still knows how to walk, climb, and fight. Muscle memory remains.

The old man is the first person he talks to and he doesn’t know he can talk until he says hello.

The man shimmers like smoke before he’s solid again, pale and wild-eyed as he stares at Link. Still, he’s kind, and when he sees him eat an apple he relaxes.

The people of Kakariko melt away when he rides into town. Impa’s face twists when he meets her, eyes wide and—frightened. Then she settles and gives him further information. She tells him memories will help, so he starts searching them out.

Each memory brings back a little more of himself, and each interaction with people on the road highlights their fear. He doesn’t understand it, but slowly he learns how to smile softly and try to put off a friendly atmosphere.

It gets easier with time until it’s second nature. The people of Hateno are wary at first, but once he starts paying to fix the old house, they leave him alone.

Stablemasters grow used to his comings and goings, even if he periodically tries to register a strange animal to see what they’ll do. Beedle is one of the few who doesn’t bat an eye upon meeting Link for the first time. Sidon is another.

“Why are people scared of me?” Wild once asks Sidon. His head rests on the prince’s chest, listening to the too-fast beat of his heart. It’s soothing.

The zora cocks his head as he considers. “The energy you radiate can be, hmm, off-putting?” And, because he is kind, he gathers Link into a hug with no hesitation.

Wild learns how to rein his nature in, but he also learns when to let it go. On the road, he makes no effort to be friendly and he finds the Yiga won’t attack if he doesn’t talk to them first.

Travelers running from monsters are already too frightened to care about him. The few traders on the road he recognizes on sight and tucks himself away behind mental walls. The citizens of Hyrule grow used to Link, and he grows used to them.

When the group of heroes first come across him, it’s little surprise they run. He is surprised when they don’t enter the stable that night, even after he’s tucked himself neatly into the mild package he presents to the world. Well, some individuals are more sensitive to his presence than others.

When the Chain invites him to join them, he mentally promises not to scare them again. It might require a little more active work on his part, but if hylians can learn to live with him, so can these heroes.

Read the rest here!

[coolcataetheryte]

I've never posted a fanfic on this platform before, so sorry if anything looks weird. The characterization may be a bit iffy *shrug* I wrote this at like 3am. Also, I don't write smut often, so I expect this to feel about the level of a cheesy romance novel, and maybe that's fine. Can you imagine Estinien on the cover of one of those?

Summary: The WoL is feeling burnt out and lonely, Estinien shows up and helps her relax.

Pairing: Delphinium(WoL)xEstinien

Rating: NC-17

Tags: first time, uuuh size kink i guess? Barely, basically pwp, minor plot, I'm not sure what else. I don’t do this often, sorry lol so i’m not sure what should be tagged

Word count: 3,250

Delphinium sighed as she closed the door to her inn room behind her. The sound of the other scions’ drunken merrymaking muffled to a whisper and she was thankful for it. Of course, she loved celebrating a job well done as much as the next adventurer but once things got too loud and rowdy, it was time to make her exit. The boisterous cheering and laughter and music was just too overwhelming.

She took a few deep breaths then simply stood there, staring at nothing really. The room was a bit stuffy and her clothing felt stifling. Her rapier felt heavy at her hip. She was exhausted.

She finally peeled herself from the door and laid down her weapon on the bench. Her fingers brushed her harp as she withdrew her hand. She stopped and gave it a long look. She hadn’t played it since becoming a red mage some time ago. It was gathering dust and probably had fallen out of tune. Tired as she was, maybe a little bit of mindless work would do her well. She picked it up gently and sat down right where she was on the floor. The old wooden boards creaked slightly under her. She began cleaning and tuning the neglected instrument, all other noises fading into the background and her mind fell more at ease as she focused. Her fingers worked meticulously. Her ears missed nothing, quickly fixing any sour notes. Her scaly tail swished gently behind her the more she got into it.

Quite some time had passed when she gave the harp a satisfied nod. The noise from the lobby had disappeared. They’d finally decided to call it a night. That meant it was likely around midnight now. She hadn’t meant to stay up so late but admittedly, doting on the harp had somehow given her a bit of a second wind. She looked around the room absently, fingers just barely touching the strings and creating a mere whisper of song. What should she do now? Her eyes fell back on the instrument in her hands. It’d been a while since she sang. While less so than playing the harp, as she did sing to herself on occasion, she hadn’t truly sang and she began to feel like perhaps she should.

She loved singing. She always had. It was why she initially sought the way of the bard to begin with. To use song in battle had started to strip the joy from it, however. A side effect she never would have expected. That was the reason she turned to the blade. The others of course had questioned her decision. She played her role as bard well, and no doubt they enjoyed to hear it even if their focus was battle and not her performance. She’d told them it was simply to strengthen herself and feel more helpful with damage. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole, intimate, personal truth that she had never told anyone.

In a swift motion she stood with the harp and made her way across the room to open the door to the balcony. The night was crisp and quiet, with naught but a few insects disrupting the silence. Her chest swelled as she breathed deep of the cool air. It was only when a small shiver ran through her that she realized she’d been sweating. She paid no mind and began to string together notes that drifted into the night. Then her sweet voice joined in. It was an old song. One she didn’t even remember learning. It was simply part of her core despite having few memories from before her arrival in Gridania on that carriage. A lullaby from her people she presumed, with its soft melody and lilting sung notes.

Her song faded into an echo as she finished. A small smile graced her lips.

“That was lovely.”

She nearly jumped out of her scales at the sudden voice. Normally it was difficult to startle the Warrior of Light but Estinien had a way of catching her off guard randomly. Had he been there the whole time? Why did he jump onto her balcony of all places? He was probably lost. She gave him an exasperated look before turning on her heel to return to her room. His footsteps followed behind her.

“My intent wasn’t to frighten you,” he said.

He seemed sincere but she could hear the mirth in his voice. Yet somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to leave. Without a word she placed the harp in its previous resting spot. She found herself simply standing and staring at nothing again.

The material of Estininen’s trousers caught gently on one of her tail spikes and she became aware of his presence directly behind her. He was close, a hair’s breadth from her back.

“What is it,” he asked. “You only stand about like this when something is on your mind.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and that was all it took for her demeanor to completely break away. She relaxed back against his body with a sharp sigh, her head resting just barely at his navel.

“Delphinium?”

He sounded concerned. She gently placed her hand over his. His hand felt so large. She imagined what they might be like holding her more intimately. She quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. Sure, they had their banter, and yes, many knew it was flirtatious but that was all it had ever been and this.. was entirely too comfortable. She couldn’t afford herself this. She suddenly wanted desperately to move away from him but she was stuck between him and the bench. She decided on a side step but, in her exhaustion, quite embarrassingly caught the edge of Estinien’s boot. He caught her with ease before she could fall to the ground. Their eyes met, and for a moment there was nothing in the world but the concern in his eyes as they searched her own.

Her breath hitched when she was pressed against him. Her feet left the floor, and it took her a moment to realize he had lifted her to crush her against his chest in a tight embrace.

“Whatever it is,” he said quietly. “I hope that you would trust me enough to tell me.”

The dam broke. She gripped his tunic as her tears streamed down cheeks. Estinien held tighter and gently lowered to sit on the floor as she sobbed into his chest. She easily fit into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “It’s just all been so much. I’ve done so much in so little time. I barely have any time to rest. I always have to be strong for everyone. I’m just so..tired.”

He said nothing but continued to hold her close. A hand stroked her hair gently. After a while, she calmed, taking deep breaths.

“You must think so little of me now,” she chuckled dryly. “The great hero, crying like a child.”

“No,” he said. “I know how much you hide your emotion. You bear quite a burden and you seldom let anyone see what you truly feel. I know how I seem, but I do understand you.”

She looked up at him at his words. Being half his size, she’d never seen his face so close before. She’d also never been so vulnerable with anyone, yet here she was looking so deeply at him with tear stained cheeks. He used a thumb to wipe a tear from her eye, then his hand drifted to caress her cheek. His thumb dared to ever so gently brush across her lip, the pink of her lipstick leaving a faint streak on his skin.

It was Delphinium that closed the distance between their lips. She gave in to the desire she held since she first battled alongside him on the bridge. He didn’t resist her, secretly having had the same thoughts since that moment. He’d cast them aside as he continued to focus on his revenge, but now there was nothing to hold him back. He helped her adjust into a more comfortable position as he deepened the kiss.

Her hands found their way into his long tresses, while Estinien’s hands rested comfortably at her waist and back. The tiny moan as Delphinium allowed his tongue access sent a shiver through him. They stayed there a while. There was no battle for dominance. Delphinium gladly gave into him, letting someone else take the lead of something for once.

Somewhere they’d ended up with Delphinium on the floor beneath him. His lips found their way to her neck, and she finally registered her horns scraping uncomfortably against the unforgiving wood as she arched a bit into him. She stopped his hand as it began tugging at the laces of her blouse. He paused, looking at her.

“Let's have a bath,” she said breathlessly.

“After. We’d need another once we’re through.”

She gave a bit of a snort at that. “Please. I want you to bathe with me. We should be clean before we do anything.”

He relented easily. One more kiss, then he helped her to her feet. She held his hand and led him to the washroom with a smile.

As the tub filled, Delphinium felt a wave of self-consciousness. She had her back to her companion, but could hear him beginning to undress. She weighed the possible consequences of following through with her actions. Was this a good idea? Could she afford to be involved with someone so intimately? Could she allow herself?

A hand on her arm turned her toward Estinien. She looked up at him immediately, trying to ignore his naked groin just below her eye level. He slowly began to unlace her blouse. He looked at her, silently asking permission to remove it. She nodded. As he worked to undress her, her eyes scanned over the scars decorating Estinien’s upper body. They were many, some old and faint, some clearly more recent. When he knelt down to remove her boots, she caught sight of his gnarled shoulder. Without thinking, she reached toward it, her fingers carressing over the marred flesh as gently as they had the harp strings earlier that night. He looked up at her and she muttered an apology, removing her hand.

“It’s all right,” he said and continued the task at hand.

Now both fully nude, a blush crept over Delphinium’s face. She noticed Estinien’s cheeks began to dust with pink as well and smiled. She took his hand and guided him into the warm water with her. Seeing his scars reminded her just how strong and resilient the Elezen was. To hell with her doubts, Estinien could handle himself. The fear of losing him would always be there, but she knew he would not fall easily. She was tired of handling everything alone. It was clear he felt the same.

The tub was more than large enough for them and she was thankful not to have ended up cramped together. She’d never been so close to anyone, let alone been naked with them. But she was the one that wanted this and wouldn't back out now. Estinien watched her while she began to lather soap onto a cloth. She tried not to appear so nervous under his gaze.

She looked at him, this time being the one to silently ask permission. He nodded just as she had. She washed him gently. Upon reaching the scar on his shoulder, he placed a hand over hers. She understood, relinquishing the cloth to him. She found another and scrubbed her face, removing her lipstick. Wiping under her eyes, she realized how smeared her makeup must’ve been, and how silly she likely looked. She laighed to herself, drawing Estinien’s attention.

“What is it,” he asked.

“Nothing. Just imagining how I must've appeared this whole time. I’m sorry for suddenly crying at you. And sorry if your tunic is stained.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “Pay no mind. I have other tunics. I’m honored you shared your tears with me.”

She smiled and kissed his hand gently. “Let me wash your back?”

He nodded, then turned to give her access, moving his hair off to the side. She rubbed the cloth over him, again noting all of his scars. She kissed a thin scar near the base of his neck. He turned to her and she was about to apologize when he captured her lips with his own once more.

“Your turn,” he whispered.

She looked at him confused.

“Your back? I should return the favor.”

“Right,” she laughed awkwardly and quickly turned away from him.

He didn’t hide his chortle. He was a bit rougher with his washing than Delphinium would normally be. However, she could tell he was cleaning her scales with the same precision he cleaned his weapons. She relaxed into it with a sigh, drawing her knees up and leaning her chin on them to keep her head above the water. He was nearly massaging her at this point and she felt like she could fall asleep like this.

Estinien pulled her into his lap, her back flush against his chest. He seemed to ignore the small spikes of her tail biting into his stomach. She shivered against him as her breasts were exposed above the water. She became more alert again when she felt a hand glide up around one of them. Of course, she couldn’t sleep just yet. This is what they both had been looking forward to.

She was aware of her short stature, but now with his hand covering her ample breast she felt downright tiny. It was as thrilling as she imagined. She let out a breathy sigh as his fingers teased the bud of her nipple. She felt his other hand move downward, brushing over the deep scar on her lower abdomen. She knew he must’ve seen it earlier. She expected he’d ask about it, and was a little surprised he hadn’t. It didn’t necessarily bother her to speak of it, but it did bring back memories of awful pain. His hand didn’t linger over the scar for long, and drifted lower still.

Another sigh left her lips when his long fingers met their destination between her thighs.

She squirmed slightly at the sensation his rubbing fingers sent through her. A moan escaped her throat and that seemed to encourage him quite a lot. She felt his erection growing beneath her, the length of it coming to rest against the cleft of her heated folds. He continued his motions. Her breathing became more erratic, and her moans more frequent. She never thought he’d bring her to the edge so quickly but she couldn’t hold back.

She couldn’t help but rock her hips into his massaging fingers, the motion also grinding against the erection between her legs.

Estinien pressed his lips to her shoulder, stifling a heated groan that went straight to Delphinium’s core. She climaxed with a shout that echoed embarrassingly through the large washroom. His fingers lingered a few moments longer as her spasms calmed. Then, he moved to grasp his length. He held her impossibly closer as he stroked himself to his own completion. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with him breathing heavily in her ear, she would worry about her tail possibly drawing blood from his crushing embrace.

He finished with a grunt then finally loosened his hold. They both needed more.

“Bed, now,” Delphinium said.

They wasted no time. Drying just enough so as not to slip, he carried her easily to the bedroom. He all but tossed her onto the soft bed and immediately he was crawling over her, planting a trail of kisses along her thigh all the way up to her breasts. She moaned quietly as he mouthed at the perked nipple, her hands gripped his hair gently, urging him on. His tongue flicked over the bud, earning him a louder sound and a twitch. Satisfied, he continued his trail upward, finally capturing her lips for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

Again, she allowed his tongue access, gasping against his lips while his thumbs firmly caressed her nipples. Her legs spread wider of their own accord and she was beginning to ache for him.

“Estinien,” she breathed. “I need you now.”

Without hesitation, Estinien sat back to hold her hips. He gently probed the tip of his erection at her entrance. She watched him eagerly, the difference in size wildly apparent. Neither had any idea if it would truly fit, but by the twelve, they weren’t about to stop now.

Their eyes met and she gave a quick nod. The tip plunged inside her not a moment later. She gasped out a moan and tangled her hands into the bedsheet as he slowly slid the rest of his length into her heat. He grunted out his own pleasured moan as it engulfed him. He paused, the only sound was their panting breaths. He gave her a minute to adjust to him. Then, at her nod, began a quick pace of thrusting. While it would’ve been lovely to take it slow, they both desperately needed this connection and release. There was no way he could hold himself back now.

Delphinium’s fervor matched his, a string of moans falling from her parted lips. She watched him with half lidded eyes, memorizing the way his muscles clenched with each movement.

Estinien carefully pulled her up into his lap. She let out another moan of pleasure as the new position pushed him deeper still. Her hands glided over him, feeling his chiseled body. She kissed his chest and held tight as he began to move once more. His thrusts were quickly growing desperate, she was nearing her limit as well. His passionate, breathy, moans were right in her ear again. Her own sounds had gone up an octave. With a few more thrusts, she was pushed again over the edge into that wonderful, white hot pleasure. Moments later she felt him pulsating within her, filling her to the brim with his seed.

Panting, he stroked her freckled cheek and realization settled in. She saw the streak of panic in his eyes and gently shook her head.

“I can’t,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

His mind flashed back to the scar he’d felt on her stomach and he relaxed, understanding.

They held each other close as they caught their breath, and the high passed. Gently, he laid her on the bed and disappeared for a moment.

Delphinium was already beginning to let sleep take her when he returned. She startled slightly when the warm, wet cloth touched her, but once she understood she allowed herself to fall into her slumber.

Estinien cleaned them carefully. While typically he wouldn’t bother, he remembered how much Delphinium hated to feel sticky. He would do anything for her. He would die for her. Of course, he’d try very hard to never let it come to that.

He settled them under the blankets and watched the sun slowly light up the room.

[agentbuckshot]

My favorite merc is Engineer and I honestly have my own interpretation of his character because honestly not a lot about him can be figured out, he’s described in three canonical words, freakishly smart, soft spoken, and amiable. So this is that! This is what I think of his character v. other interpretations, I’m not sure if this would count as headcannons or not since it’s all about his personality rather than stuff I’ve made from my head

- Engineer is not actually a workaholic, he’s not constantly bundled up in his workshop, he values himself a lot, and he acknowledges when it’s time to take a break. He enjoys what he does but he’s not overworking himself to the bone because he burnt out frequently in college. He likes to relax and truly values times when there’s ultimately nothing waiting for him, and nothing to think about.

- in addition he’s not constantly stressed over his team, he believes the best in them and does his best, when he can to give them a friendly nudge in a direction they could be missing. He has a lot of faith in their ability to figure it out themselves. They are immature, but I think the fact that all of them are most likely grown adults. He’s a fatherly guy but a firm believer in, explain it to them first, if they decide to do it anyways let the naturally consequences fix them, he can’t make them do it. He will attempt to be a middle man in conflicts among his team if it is necessary

- One thing he enjoys more than anything, is teaching, or atleast rambling about what he does. Not many listen to him, he doesn’t mind, but there’s two people who love his lessons, Demoman, when not completely wasted, and Scout, who’s never had the father figure to teach him these sorts things. He enjoys having someone to listen to him, he also enjoys that this makes them more capable of handling situations themselves

- he can be very smug, growing up the gifted kid, he’s received a lot of compliments at a young age that became his expectation, while he is a very soft spoken man, a compliment goes a long way for him and can get in his head as little as it shows. Ultimately, he can find himself showing off more, to get more of these compliments. He doesn’t try, and it’s not often noticeable, but there’s one person who knows about this is Spy due to his observation skills. It’s something I notice in a lot of kids who grew up gifted they could still be sweet people these acts can be interpreted often as show offish to people who do not experience their need to contest for approval. I never grew up personally gifted but I notice it a lot! So this is more of a headcannon

- he can also, find himself lacking professionalism, even less than medic when it comes to their experiments. While medic can be over enthusiastic, Engineer overlooks direness of certain situations unless it involves him or the well being of his friends. He drinks often times when working, which I wouldn’t say is very professional, sure Demoman drinks way more than him, nobody should compete especially in a job like that, but engineer? He sure does. His casual, go with the flow nature can become rather intimidating when they are dealing with the lives of others

- He is a father figure but wouldn’t baby his team and treat them like children, he strongly and I mean Strongly encourages they function on their own, he is defensive support, and this is applicable as how he acts in a general non battle setting. He offers advice, and comfort but would encourage you to move on, he can only support so much but he has your back no matter what.

[banannabethchase]

Hungry Like the Wolf - also on AO3

~

Yuta accidentally walks in on his boss as a werewolf. A literal werewolf. Why does he find that hot?

~

Bingo square I3 complete! Also how did I write a 16k AU in 4 days? Please don't ask me because I don't fucking know.

~

It’s late. Like, stupid late. Like, so late he’s got eight texts from Chuck asking him why the fuck he isn’t back since it’s his night to take the dog for his late night walk, stupid.

I’ll be back soon I’m still at work, he fires back as he fixes something in his spreadsheet with his other hand. Tell Walter to wait like half an hour.

Can’t wait that long he has a shityt bladder Chuck replies back, and Yuta knows the fight is lost. Chuck is going to yell at him that he’s a bad roommate, Yuta will feel like trash because he’s right, and he still won’t have everything done at work that needs to get done.

Yuta sighs and saves the document, flipping it shut. At this point, he may as well start living here.

He looks up to see the rest of the room empty, his light the only one on. The saving grace is that he’s hourly and his boss is cool with giving out overtime like Halloween candy. Maybe he can offer to pay the whole electric bill this month as penance.

Snapping off the light in his cubicle, Yuta gathers his things and makes his way toward the exit, only to see a light still on in the boss’ office. He pauses. He really shouldn’t interrupt Mr. Castagnoli, since it’s late and there has to be a reason he’s still here. But he’s stupid and he’s tempted to show off that he’s here, too.

“Mr. Castagnoli,” he says, knocking as he pushes the door open. “I just wanted to say –” He cuts himself off as he tries to process the sight in front of him. “What the flying fuck?!”

A wolf the size of a sedan turns to him, dark eyes eerily familiar.

“Oh dear,” says a voice equally familiar yet unquestionably canine. “Mr. Yuta. You were supposed to be gone.” The wolf sighs. “What an inconvenient way for you to find out. As you can see,” he gestures to the mess of blood and filth around the room, covered in a thick plastic tarp, “I am rather busy. If we could continue this conversation tomorrow, I would be much obliged.”

Yuta blinks for a few seconds, trying to get his eyes to register what the actual fuck he’s seeing, then processes it. Everything. All at once.

He sprints out of there, hightailing it to his car, and slams the door behind him. His breathing is heavy, his heartbeat is too fast to be safe, and his brain is spinning. He gets home five minutes faster than usual, terror wreaking havoc on his system, and runs in the door.

“What – how the hell did you get back so soon?” Chuck asks. He’s on the couch with his boyfriend in his lap, Yuta’s former boss. “I thought I had at least ten minutes of macking time post walk.”

Cassidy slides off of Chuck’s lap languidly, looking disappointed. Well, as much as he ever has an expression.

“I – had to get home,” Yuta pants. The memory still reigns, stark and bloodred, in his mind. “You’ll never believe what I just saw.” He runs it over with them, talking so quickly he can barely keep up with himself. Chuck looks at him with a distinct lack of belief. Cassidy looks so unaffected Yuta’s pretty sure he’s fallen asleep under his sunglasses.

“I think you had a nightmare,” Chuck says, and it’s so reasonable Yuta feels himself automatically relax. “Like, think about it, okay? You were at work until,” he checks his clock, “like, ten at night. You got there at nine in the morning. You’re burnt out, dude.”

“Probably envisioning your boss as a blood covered carnivore is a representation of your distrust of him as the individual siphoning your labor for his own gains,” Cassidy says.

Yuta turns to him. “The fuck did you just say?” He looks at Chuck. “I worked for him for three years and I’m pretty sure that’s more words in a row than I’d heard him say within, like, a month.”

Cassidy shrugs. “Your fault for leaving my shop, dumbass.” He stretches out on the couch and passes out. Yuta thinks.

“Orange is right,” Chuck says, resting his hand on Cassidy’s forehead and playing with long blond strands. “Your subconscious is making him a literal fairy tale villain because you were stuck at work.” He nods toward Yuta’s room. “Go to sleep and get into work late tomorrow morning. You’ve earned it.”

Like he only does when he knows Yuta’s had a really rough day, Walter pads in after him into his bedroom and curls up against him in bed. Yuta falls asleep in minutes, and doesn’t dream.

~

He gets into work the next morning just before noon, holding a tray of apology coffees for being late and a whole lot of fear.

“Hey,” he says Mox, the security guard. “Uh. Here. I got coffee.”

Moxley stares at it. “What kind?”

“Um. Latte?” He pulls it out of the cardboard tray and checks the label. “Yeah, regular latte.”

“Gross,” Mox says, and he chugs it in a few seconds, shoving it back into the tray empty. “Thanks, though.”

Yuta throws a wary glance behind him, unsure of how to process that moment, and pushes into the full building. The office area is – well, it’s not modern, exactly. There really are cubicles, and there really are bigger offices for the higher ups, but the place still feels more comfortable than the place from Office Space, so Yuta considers it a win.

Or, at least, it had. Before the nightmare.

“Maybe I need to go back into retail,” Yuta mutters, but, even as he says that, the trauma of getting a guitar thrown at his head and the idea of living in a tiny apartment with Chuck and Cassidy for the rest of his life say otherwise. He sets the tray of coffees down at the receptionist desk.

“You okay there, Wheels?” Renee asks. She types in something on her computer, then turns back to him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Yuta hands her the hot white chocolate mocha latte and nods. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“I do,” she says sternly. “You didn’t clock out until 10:02, you fucking idiot.”

He smiles at her. “Love you too!”

He sips his own coffee as he gets to his workstation.  “Marina!” he calls to the woman who works the next cubicle over. “Hi. I got coffee.”

She looks up, eyes fierce but silent, and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, it’s a hot blonde roast, no cream, sugar free vanilla,” Yuta says, handing it over the top. “Four pumps.”

Marina takes a hesitant, suspicious sip, then nods. He thinks, if he looks closely enough, he could see something like a smile there.

He settles back down into his seat, and throws open his laptop to see his work from last night there.

All of it.

He frowns. If he’d fallen asleep, like he’d assumed, there wouldn’t be anything there past the collaborative data review he’d done around 7:30 with Bryan. But there it was – the two and a half hours’ worth of analytical review.

He slumps back in the chair.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep.

If he hadn’t dreamt.

He shakes his head. “Nope,” he insists. “Nope, we’re not going there.” He picks up where he left off, yawning only a bit, and cranks out a couple hundred more words of analysis before he feels a presence over his shoulder. A shiver runs down his spine.

“Mr. Yuta,” comes an eerily familiar voice from over his shoulder, and it’s that exact second he’s sure it wasn’t a dream, “a word, in my office, if you will.”

A cold sweat breaks out over his body as he stands and plasters his best facsimile of a smile on his face. “Certainly, sir,” he says, swallowing.

Yuta follows Mr. Castagnoli to the office, and Renee’s eyes catch his. She raises an eyebrow, but he shrugs, doing his best to look sheepish as he smiles back at her, like he doesn’t know what this is about.

Mr. Castagnoli gestures for him to push the door shut behind him. Reluctantly, Yuta does.

“Please sit, Mr. Yuta.” His boss gestures to one of the comfortable chairs in front of the giant desk. Yuta assumes Castagnoli would sit in the fancy one like a throne behind the desk, but instead he plants himself in the seat one away from Yuta.

Yuta lowers himself gingerly. No plastic tarp, no blood, no stray fur or teeth or indication of violence. Castagnoli’s smile, while definitely sharp white and toothy, doesn’t betray any carnivorous tendencies.

“I would like to discuss the incident from the previous night.”

Yuta fights the urge to curl in on himself. “Uh, yeah,” he hedges, wishing he could sound like an normal person about all this. “Right. The uh.”

“The wolf,” Castagnoli clarifies. “Yes, of course. That was me.”

“Sorry, can we – wolf?” Yuta asks. “You’re weirdly chill about all this.”

Castagnoli shrugs, looking not an ounce ashamed or hesitant about this conversation. “It has been my life since birth. A legacy of the Castagnoli line, one could say.” He chuckles a bit. “My mother says it’s why we are so talented in the board room.” He leans toward Yuta a little bit. “We have a taste for blood.”

A shiver runs down Yuta’s spine, but he can’t be exactly sure why. “Are you gonna kill me?” he blurts out, white knuckle grip on the chair. “I get why. But, like, make it quick.”

To his shock, Castagnoli lets out a laugh, open and beautiful and wildly inappropriate for the level of conversation they’re having. “Oh, my goodness,” he says, coming down from it. “No, Mr. Yuta, absolutely not.” He gestures around the door. “Do you see a tarp? I never chance blood without a good old fashion layer of protection.”

Yuta swears he sees Castagnoli wink.

“No, I assure you, murder is not in the cards for you.” Yuta absolutely did not miss the qualifier – for you. “I actually was here to propose something akin to a promotion.”

Yuta raises an eyebrow. “A promotion?”

“Now that you managed to see my…hidden side,” Castagnoli says, “I suppose we’ve become closer. And I would do to have someone else be in charge of some of the more complex components of my moonlight changes.” He tilts his head, studying Yuta. The only word that comes to Yuta’s mind is predator. He shouldn’t like it so much. “You’re in a unique position where you are privy to the complexity of my condition without being also hindered by it. If you know, then it’s only right that I invite you to understand some of the more complicated components of the company, along with increasing your salary.”

Yuta’s ears perk up. “Increasing my salary?”

“Of course,” Castagnoli says. “I would find it rather abhorrent to expect an atypical job requirement beyond the original contract to not be compensated with a pay raise.”

Yuta nods slowly. “What, exactly, would being your assistant entail?”

“Well,” Castagnoli says, “there are obviously some components about my condition that require additional planning. I do it myself, as of now, but I could use some help. Generally, my transformations happen at night, when I’m alone in the office, but…” He trails off and meets Yuta’s eyes. “You often stay late, correct?” Yuta nods. “On nights when the moonlight cannot be blocked out, particularly full moons, that is when I transform. I can generally prepare and control it using the weather predictions, but more often than I’d like my transformation occurs…unexpectedly.” He sighs. “On those nights, I would request your support to gather the necessary materials.”

“So, like,” Yuta says, carefully, “food and tarps?”

“You say that so casually,” Castagnoli says. His knee brushes Yuta’s. “Were you not afraid last night?”

“I mean, yeah, I was,” Yuta says, and he resists the urge to laugh. “Of course I was. You were a big ass wolf man in place of my boss, covered in blood.” He gestures to the room. “Then I come in here today and you’re back to – my boss.” He slumps in the chair. “I thought it was a nightmare, man. My roommates were sure of it.”

Castagnoli’s eyes go carefully blank. “You spoke of my condition to them.”

“Sure, but they didn’t believe me,” Yuta says. “They were sure I’d fallen asleep. One of them, Cassidy, said he thought I was imagining you as a bloodthirsty carnivore because I was stuck at work so late and you were draining my labor from me or something.” He frowns. “I didn’t say it right, but you get the gist.”

Castagnoli’s eyes remain blank, but the subtle tilt of his head tells Yuta he hit a nerve. “And do you feel that way?”

“What way?”

Castagnoli leans in, forearms braced on his thighs. “As if I am forcing you to work solely for my own gain?”

Yuta lets the words sink in, allows himself the time to be honest. “No,” Yuta decides. “No, I – I’m never scheduled to work that late, and you pay me a frankly insane rate for overtime.” He relaxes in his chair.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Castagnoli says. He mirrors Yuta’s posture: a leg crossed, arms on the chair, back relaxed into the chair. “And, if you could, please refrain from mentioning the truth of my condition to others.” He offers a slight smile. “It is my story to tell, as the saying goes.”

“Oh, right,” Yuta says. “I’d never out anybody.” He frowns. “Well. It’s not the same, but I get it.”

“Not the same as what?”

Yuta tenses up. “Uh. Well, I had a guy tell my whole college campus I’m gay when I was in school, and that fucking sucked.” He shrugs. “I’d never make anybody feel that way.”

Claudio eyes him. “That’s kind of you, Mr. Yuta. And thank you for the window into your past.” Yuta would swear he saw a glint in Castagnoli’s eye. “I can give you further information as the day goes on, however this evening appears to be cloudy with little hint of moonlight coming through. If it does, though.” He eyes Yuta.

“Just send me a to-do list,” Yuta says. “And I can, uh. Do it.”

Castagnoli nods once. “Well then. I suppose we are done here.” He stands and checks the clock. “And if I keep you here much longer, I’ll be late for a client meeting. Until later, Mr. Yuta.”

Yuta knows when he’s dismissed, and he stands and reaches for the door.

“Oh, and Mr. Yuta,” Castagnoli says, as Yuta is about to leave the room.

Yuta turns around, surprised he’s surprised that the other shoe is dropping. “Yes?”

“Please call me Claudio.” His smile is intriguing. “After all, you know my deepest secret. The least I can do is offer you my name.”

Yuta nods. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Claudio.”

He leaves the room and sits in his cubicle, and does literally nothing for two straight hours.

~

There are to-do lists. Lots of them. He’s in charge of coordinating with a local butcher to acquire whole animals for the wolf to tear apart if the moment strikes, ensuring delivery of the tarps for Claudio’s office, and locking every door prior to Claudio’s transformation. He’s not sure why that part is necessary; his encounter with the wolf was weirdly cordial. Nothing like he’d expect from interacting with a supernatural killing machine.

The first clear night of the full moon, Yuta is ready. He says goodbye to the rest of the office as they leave, smiling sheepishly as they all tell him to go home. Renee literally throws a pillow at his head, which was somehow both sweet and aggressive.

“Overtime isn’t worth it,” Renee yells over her shoulder.

“It is,” Yuta yells back, but he’s lying. It’s not the overtime. It’s the chance to spend time with Cas-Claudio. It’s the ability to know something so private about Claudio, to be trusted that deeply.

And, you know. The time and a half.

He peeks over the top of the cubicles to confirm that everyone else is gone, then steps into Claudio’s office. “Hey,” he says gently. “You okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Claudio says. He slides the papers on his desk into his folders, then moves the décor to another bookshelf. “Would you be able to get the tarp and the other necessities, Wheeler?”

Yuta’s not sure when Claudio started calling him by his first name, but he sure as hell won’t ask him to stop. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Claudio offers him one of those rare, small smiles, and it powers Yuta through practically running down the hallway. He first gets the tarp from the basement, after a brief debate with himself about whether or not he can make it all the way up the stairs with the tarp and the deer at the same time, and brings it upstairs.

“Um,” Yuta says. “What, exactly, do you need from me?” He pulls the tarp out of the bag slowly. Claudio’s already moved the desk out of the way, propped against the door, and has draped a smaller sized tarp over it. “When you transform, I mean.”

Claudio sighs, looking like a model as he leans against the bookshelf in his pristine office wear. “We’ll have to see what the wolf prefers,” he says. It’s too vague, like he’s hiding something. Yuta waits. “If I can be honest, I’ve never had someone out of wolf form see me. No human, at least. I suppose I don’t know what I need from you.”

Yuta nods. “We’ll play it by ear, then.” He offers Claudio a smile, hoping it’s some sort of comforting. “I’ll go grab the deer, then. Throw it over my shoulder like some sort of lumberjack.”

“Don’t lumberjacks haul wood?”

Yuta opens his mouth, ready to make a crack about how he’s always hauling wood, then freezes. Claudio is still his boss. “They’ve got to get food someway, right?” he says, pivoting.

Claudio’s still looking at him though. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll be in my office, preparing.” He peeks in. “Ah. The first strands of moonlight have appeared.”

Yuta doesn’t wait, and instead hauls a big ass, plastic-covered deer from the basement, to the elevator, and then up to the office.

“Do I have any blood on me?” Yuta asks. “Did the deer leak?” He turns to Claudio and sees the wolf instead. “Oh. Oh, hello.”

“Hello, Wheeler.” It’s strange, how it’s Claudio’s voice at the same time as being the wolf’s. He wishes it were more distinct, like he could easily know who was in charge. But, then again, if it did count as someone else, perhaps he wouldn’t feel so safe in the room. Claudio is curled up in wolf form in the corner, giant clawed paw rolling around a metal ball. “You have no blood on you at all, though I’d have to admit that would –” He pauses, eyes averting from Yuta’s. “Well, I assure you, you are perfectly clean.” He pushes the ball toward Yuta.

Yuta rests the deer in the middle of the floor and stops the ball with his foot. “Are you asking to play?” he asks, fighting the urge to smile.

As much as a wolf can, Claudio shrugs. “I feel unable to resist the urge.”

The metal ball is heavy, but Yuta can push it with a little effort. He sits on the floor and rolls it back toward Claudio, who stops it with his snout and pushes it back. “Have you ever, like,” Yuta has to lean over to catch the ball before it flies off into the wrong direction, “played with anyone during your transformations?” He rolls the ball back, and Claudio scoops it up with a paw. It’s almost cute with the way he fiddles with it between his paws.

“Never a human,” Claudio answers. He pushes the ball back to Yuta. “Those in my pack my same age and I would play, but it was never this docile.” When Yuta rolls the ball back, Claudio catches it between massive, white teeth. “Far more blood involved.”

Yuta snorts. “I mean, if you want blood, we have blood.” He nods over to the deer. “But, uh. I’m in work clothes, so I’d rather not be covered.”

Claudio bares his teeth, the ball falling from his mouth, and Yuta freezes. He’d forgotten he was in the room with a bloodthirsty predatory, one with human intellect and animalistic desires. “Right,” Claudio says, and the exhale reminds Yuta of a sleepy puppy. He stretches out, reminding Yuta just how big the wolf is. “Would never want you to sully your professional wear.” He growls, low in his chest. “With that in mind, I do recommend you return to your office space now.” He licks his teeth, long tongue red as blood. “I feel the need to tear.”

Yuta nods and stands, swallowing hard. “Do you, uh. Do you need me to open the deer for you?”

Claudio’s laugh is low and menacing. Yuta should not be getting – this is the wrong feeling in this setting. “I assure you,” he brandishes his claws, “I am more than capable of doing so myself.”

Yuta nods. “You, uh. You need me overnight?”

Claudio nods. “If you will.”

Yuta closes the door behind himself as he goes over to his cubicle and pulls out the little cot Claudio had purchased for him the week before. He’d brought a blanket and now, thanks to Renee, he has a pillow. He curls up, plugs in his phone, puts on a Bigfoot related video essay on YouTube, and falls asleep.

~

“Wheeler.”

Yuta stretches, yawning. “Chuck?”

“No.”

Yuta’s eyes fly open and it takes a moment before he remembers where he is. “Oh. Right.” He rolls his shoulders. He’s less sore than he should be after a night on a cot and decides to call it a win. “How are you feeling?”

“More relaxed than usual after my transformations.” Claudio looks tired but happy, offering Yuta another one of those smiles. Yuta’s entire chest flutters, and he resists the urge to crack a stupid joke, just to stop the impossible feeling. “I cannot thank you enough, Wheeler. I have never felt this secure as the wolf.”

That feeling blooms brighter. “Of course.” He smiles. “Do, um. Do you need me to clock in or something?”

“Certainly not,” Claudio says. “I will approve it with HR myself if needed.” He exhales. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be down in the showers. Please, feel free to do so yourself as well.”

Yuta decides to banish that mental image from his mind, because the idea of showering with Claudio is too fascinating for him to stay normal about, and instead nods. “Yeah, maybe in a few. I’m going to catch up with my roommate really quick.”

He watched Claudio walk away and Yuta whips out his phone. There aren’t any texts from Chuck panicking, so he thinks his cover story that he was on a business trip overnight worked out better than he’d planned.

It’s early, only six in the morning, but getting a little too close to clock in time for comfort, so Yuta grabs clothes from his bag under his desk and makes his way down to the showers.

He almost runs into Claudio, shirtless and clad only in a towel, and his heart about leaps from his throat.

“Sorry,” he says, forcing himself to avert his eyes.

“No need to apologize.” Claudio claps a hand on Yuta’s shoulder. “Feel free to use my shampoo.”

Yuta snorts. “Funny. That’s cute.” He holds up a little bag of toiletries. Well. It’s a bar of soap, shampoo, and toothpaste. It counts. “I’ll stick with my own.”

He doesn’t intend to acknowledge his dick. He doesn’t. He’s at work, doing work things, being an employee or whatever the fuck he does here. He doesn’t need to jerk off about it.

But then he gets a memory of Claudio’s body, still glistening with water, abs for days and a line of hair leading under the towel, and all of Yuta’s resolve collapses.

“Stupid fucking hot wolf man,” he grumbles, and he reaches down to stroke his dick. He drops his head back against the tile wall of the shower, canting his hips up to meet his strokes. He thinks about the glint in Claudio’s eye as the wolf, about Claudio’s smiles, about the way Claudio looks at him sometimes.

What gets him whimpering, though, is the trust. That Claudio shared the wolf with Yuta, that he trusts Yuta to take care of him, that he’s willing to ask for help for once and it’s because of Yuta.

He comes with a cry, wordless but too loud all the same, and takes an extra five minutes to make sure the shower is all the way hosed down.

He leaves around 7:30 to pick up coffees from Orange’s Beans, Cassidy’s shop he used to work at. It’s a decision made by himself and Claudio to keep it looking like he didn’t sleep here overnight, and comes back into work with a little too much energy for a Wednesday morning.

“You’re chipper,” Mox says, holding his hand out for his coffee. “You do it right this time?”

“Don’t be a dick or I won’t give you the coffee,” Yuta says, putting the one labeled Mox in his hand. “Jesus.”

Staring at him, Mox takes a sip. “Okay, yeah. You got it right.” He punches Yuta in the shoulder so hard he staggers. “Good job, kid.”

“Ow!” Yuta says. He aims a kick at Mox’s shins, but Mox jumps out of the way, grinning.

The day is almost too normal, and at the end of the day Yuta’s hesitant to leave.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. “I mean, I know last night was the full moon, but there’s still moonlight.”

“Any day other than the full moon, I’m able to control the transformation,” Claudio explains. “Truly, I can shift between the forms of the wolf at any time, but I’m unable to shift back to human during the full moon.” His expression turns almost sad. “The wolf takes all control those nights, I’m afraid.”

Yuta wants to tell him there’s nothing wrong with that, explain that he doesn’t see much of a difference between Claudio and the wolf, but he stays silent on the topic. “If you’re sure.”

Claudio nods. “I appreciate it more than you know, Wheeler.” He holds out a hand, and Yuta shakes it. “Go have a good evening with your friends.”

Yuta does. Kris and Trent come over, and all five of them play board games. Yuta’s on an embarrassing losing streak when Chuck suggests werewolf, and Yuta snorts.

“What’s with you?” Kris asks. “You don’t like the game?”

“No, he does,” Chuck says. “Probably too much, actually. He just had this fucked up dream about his boss a few weeks ago where his boss tried to kill him, werewolf style.”

“I think he was into it,” Kris says.

“I was not!” Yuta says.

“Look, he’s blushing!” Trent says. “You want to get railed by a werewolf, don’t you.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Yuta mumbles. He shoves Kris in the shoulder, she falls over a little and lands against Trent’s shoulder, and Trent shoves her so she bonks back into Yuta. “Let’s go back to making fun of Trent for refusing to ask Rocky out.”

“No, no, I like this conversation,” Trent says. “Go back to mocking Yuta.”

The game gets lost to good natured teasing, leading to Yuta in a headlock by Kris that he doesn’t hate as much as he probably should, and he’s having fun. It’s a great evening, and he’s tired as he goes to sleep in his own bed.

But he does wonder what Claudio is doing. And he does feel a little strange falling asleep without the soft snores of the wolf in the background.

~

After the first full moon, he takes it upon himself to create a code to automatically populate certain moonlight intensities into Claudio’s lower tool bar of his computer to warn him, just to be helpful, and Claudio straight up beams when he tells him.

“You were able to do that?” Claudio says. “How?”

Yuta shrugs. “It was easy. All I had to do is write a code and apply it to your computer.”

Claudio laughs a little, shaking his head. “I assure you, writing code is not easy to everyone. I appreciate it.”

The next few weeks before the next full moon are shockingly normal. He and Claudio talk as they always do, but then again, if he had been speaking to anyone else, he would have called their banter flirting. There are time to time touches to his arms, a greater frequency of those smiles. Yuta can already tell he’s falling for Claudio, and he should know how to turn this off.

He can’t.

“Hey,” Yuta says, working late one night. He leans against the open door of Claudio’s office. “I have a question.”

Claudio’s eyebrow raises. “Is this a question you should be asking with others in the building?”

“We’re alone,” Yuta says. He pretends that idea doesn’t thrill him. “Is there an in between wolf thing?”

Claudio tilts his head. Every time he does that, Yuta’s reminded of the wolf. “Could you elaborate?”

“Like,” Yuta throws himself into his typical chair. “There’s got to be something in between the wolf and,” he gestures to Claudio, “the businessman, right? You can’t just swap between them.”

“Ah,” Claudio says. “Well, I can stop somewhere in the middle. Care to see?”

Yuta nods.

Claudio stands and loosens his tie, hands going to his jacket. “I must warn you, I’ll have to remove parts of my clothes. I wouldn’t want to damage them.” He looks a bit haughty, with the way he speaks about his clothing. Always does. “Armani, you understand.”

Yuta nods, beginning to regret this idea because a naked Claudio is not something he’s prepared for. It’s also not something he can refuse. “Of course.”

Claudio takes off his jacket and unbuttons the shirt underneath, then unbuckles his belt slowly, eyes still on Yuta. Yuta’s brain threatens to bluescreen, but he champions on. “So, we have the general human condition,” Claudio says. “And then…” He closes his eyes, in concentration, and…changes. It’s not the wolf Yuta is used to from their moonlit evening. Instead, it’s a harsher, more jagged edge human version of his boss. Darker eyes, a thin layer of fur across Claudio’s body, sharp nails and teeth. “There is this version, in the middle.”

“Huh,” Yuta says, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, I get this. Sort of the, uh, hybrid version. What’s this work for?”

Claudio frowns. “Work for?”

“Yeah,” Yuta says. “Like, there’s got to be some sort of evolutionary reason to have this form, right?”

“I hadn’t considered that before,” Claudio says. In front of Yuta’s eyes, he transforms back into his normal form, and the abs stare at Yuta again. It doesn’t feel fair. “I suppose, perhaps, it’s a way for my people to – to connect with other wolves without the violence attached.”

“I thought you all played as little wolf puppies,” Yuta says.

Claudio grins, not smiles. It’s dark, maybe even a little dirty. “That’s not the connection I was referring to, Wheeler.”

Yuta feels his entire body grow hot with desire, with the sudden need to experience what that would be like. To be on the receiving end of that connection. “Oh,” Yuta manages to say. “Yeah, uh. That makes a lot of sense.”

The tension in the room feels like a weight on him. He shouldn’t feel these things for his boss, for the person trusting him to take care of him in the most vulnerable moments of his life.

But, maybe, if all that were true, Claudio wouldn’t have shown him every part of himself, and wouldn’t have brought it up.

Claudio clears his throat. “Well, we should be getting back to work now, yes? Or you should be getting home.” He puts his belt back together, and Yuta resists the urge to tell him to take it all the way off, because that would be weird. “I’ll see you tomorrow for work?”

Yuta nods. He fights the urge to lick his lips. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing hard. “Certainly.”

~

It’s too easy.

Chuck and Cassidy are too busy at Orange’s to recognize the pattern of when Yuta has his overnight business trips, even six months into it. Yuta’s able to buy them each everything on their gift lists for their Christmas, before Thanksgiving even hits. For the first time in his life, he feels like he’s got his shit together. Even his parents, visiting for Thanksgiving, remark on his change in demeanor.

After weeks of deliberation, he gets a pocket watch, with a cup of coffee and a tiny wolf at the ends of the minute and second hands, for Claudio’s Christmas gift, and almost swoons with the way Claudio cups it in his giant hands.

“Wheeler,” he murmurs. “This is too much.”

“It’s really not,” Yuta says. “This is the first time I’ve been able to give every Christmas present I’ve wanted thanks to this job.” He looks up at Claudio and meets his eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Claudio opens his mouth, and Yuta’s eager to hear the response, but there’s a knock on the door and they spring apart.

“This looks…festive,” Bryan says, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Yoots, kid, I need your help with one of the spreadsheets. I think I fucked up the coding.”

Yuta groans, throwing a knowing look at Claudio. “Who are you, Mox? Usually you’re not the one screwing up the technology.”

“It wasn’t me!” Bryan argues as they walk out of the office. Yuta throws a smile over his shoulder to Claudio, who smiles back, hand in his pocket. “Well, not entirely me. Regal came over from the UK division and requested I show him the code’s formatting.”

“You should have waited for me,” Yuta says. He nods over at Mr. Regal, Claudio’s British counterpart. “Good afternoon, Mr. Regal.”

“Afternoon, Sunshine.” Yuta doesn’t know when the nickname showed up, but, at this point, it feels weird to correct him. “I do apologize for the error. I had not intended to damage your code.”

“I can probably fix it,” he shoots a glare at Bryan, “but I’m locking the document for editing for everyone but me, you dick.” He pauses. “Not you, of course, Mr. Regal. Genius over here.”

“Hey!” Bryan says, but Yuta absolutely hears the laugh in his tone. “Little shit over here thinks he’s a big man because he’s flirting with the boss.”

Yuta’s fingers freeze on the keyboard. “Am not,” he mutters.

“Yes you fucking are,” Bryan says, flicking the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“You didn’t deny it, and Mox says you remember all of our coffee orders but change up Claudio’s every day based on how you think his mood is going to be,” Bryan says. “You have a crush.”

“I’m going to crush you,” Yuta mumbles, curling up in his chair.

“I’d like to see you try,” Bryan scoffs. He claps Yuta on the back. “Seriously, though, kid’s a genius. We’d be working at half pace without his tech skills, and I wouldn’t be headed out to Joshua Tree with the family for two weeks’ vacation without him.” He claps Yuta on the back again. “Don’t poach him.”

Yuta lifts his head. “What?”

“I assure you, I plan on doing nothing of the sort,” Regal says, but his little frown suggests otherwise. “We should all be getting back to work, now. Wouldn’t like Mr. Castagnoli to see us slacking.” He winks at Yuta, like he knows something Yuta doesn’t, and makes his way over to the guest office.

“You are such a dick,” Yuta says, punching Bryan in the shoulder. “I’m not flirting with Castagnoli.”

“Oh okay,” Bryan says, “you’re flirting with each other hard.”

“I – shut up!”

“He doesn’t buy anybody Christmas gifts,” Bryan says. “And he got you something.”

“No, he didn’t,” Yuta says. If he could get some privacy, he could repair this code.

“He did,” Bryan insists. “He told me.”

Yuta lifts his head. “He did?!”

“Oh, you really like him,” Bryan says, grinning. Yuta, for the first time, notices his teeth are also…almost wolflike. “Fix that code then go visit him again.” He winks. “Then have a good holiday with your family.”

Yuta rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you never let up, do you.”

“Nope!” Bryan walks away whistling, hands in his pockets, and Yuta can barely focus on fixing the code.

It’s the day before the company shuts down for the full Christmas week, Yuta’s done with the code early, and he knows it’s going to be a while before he can see Claudio again.

He just can’t come up with an excuse.

“Go home!” Renee yells from her desk. “Christ, Yoots, I know you’re hourly. But it’s Christmas.”

“Not until the day after tomorrow,” Yuta yells back. “And I’ll leave. Soon.”

“Go home.”

“You go home,” Yuta fires back. “You’re hourly, too.”

“Yeah, but I still have work to do,” Renee says, grinning. “I’ve been slacking off today, like normal people do the day before a holiday.”

He waits until everybody else is done with their work, when everyone is beginning to mill about to say their goodbyes before the break. Then, he walks up to Claudio’s office. He should knock, but, instead, he pushes open the door.

“Hi,” he says, not sure what he’ll say next.

Claudio lifts his head and smiles. Yuta’s begun to think it’s one only he gets to see. “Wheeler,” he says softly. “What do you need? Is everything alright?”

“I’m having a party,” Yuta blurts out, standing in the doorway like a dork. “At my house. With my roommates.” He doesn’t know why he’s talking. “The 28th. Our friend Kris declared she hates New Year’s Eve years ago, so we do a little thing in the boring week between Christmas and New Year’s to hang out. Do you want to come?”

Claudio’s jaw drops. “You are inviting me to a party?”

Yuta nods. “Only – only if you’d like.” He presses his lips together, willing himself not to ask anything else.

Claudio smiles. “I would love you, Yuta,” and he’s about to let him down gently, Yuta knows it, “but I’m afraid I’ll be in Switzerland until the evening of the 30th.”

“Oh, right,” Yuta says, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face.  

“But we have the office party on New Year’s,” Claudio says. “So I hope to see you that evening.”

Yuta blinks. He’d forgotten about that. He hadn’t realized Claudio would be there, for some reason. Or maybe he’d been scared of what he’d do if he was. “Yeah,” he says automatically. “Yeah, of course I’ll be at New Year’s Eve.”

Claudio’s face brightens with the nicest smile Yuta’s ever seen. “Wonderful.” He glances at the open door, then stands. “Come sit with me in my office. I have a gift for you.”

Yuta’s heart begins to race. Bryan was right. “Sure,” Yuta says, and he ignores the way Marina is staring at him over the top of her cubicle.

Claudio closes the door behind him and gestures to the chairs, and Yuta falls easily into his. “You yourself have been more of a gift the past few months than I could have ever asked for,” he says, voice almost a murmur. “I wanted to give you a token of my gratitude.”

Yuta can feel his eyes on him as he opens the gift, a box larger than he’d expect from an office gift from a boss. It feels special, as he tears the paper. Like it means something. His heart begins to race. He takes all the paper off of the box, then flips it. And gasps.

“How – Claudio.” He holds the laptop in his hands. Sleek and deep blue, is favorite color. He looks up. “How did you know?”

“I have my ways,” Claudio says, and he nods toward the door. “Marina has seen you open that page and sigh for the past few months. We could tell you were coveting it.”

Yuta doesn’t even know what to say, how to respond. “This is too much,” he says quietly. He knows the cost of this computer. It’s why it’s the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to purchase, even with his paychecks. “Claudio…”

“It’s not,” Claudio says firmly. “It’s not enough, truly. You deserve…” He trails off, and Yuta looks at him. “You deserve the world, Wheeler.”

Yuta doesn’t know what’s about to happen next.

“Go home!” Renee says, slamming open the door. She freezes. “Oh, shit. I interrupted something.” She smiles apologetically, almost a grimace. “Anyway, have a good holiday. Bye! Sorry again!” She continues that grin as she closes the door.

“I really need her to finally hit on Mox,” Yuta says, laughing as he drops his head into his hands. “Their chaotic energy might cancel each other out.”

Claudio laughs, and Yuta thinks that might be his new favorite song. “I’m glad someone else has seen it, as well.” His smile softens. “You should be going home, Wheeler. Enjoy your gift.” He pulls the pocket watch from his pocket and cradles it delicately in his hands. “I will certainly cherish mine.”

~

Christmas with his parents is the best of his life.

“Wheeler!” his mother says, opening the earrings. “Sweetheart, how did you…?”

“I told you,” he says, beaming. “I’ve got a great job. I can do things like this now.”

She throws her arms around his neck. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” she murmurs into his neck. “You’re so grown up.” She pulls back. “Now we’ve got to find you a nice man to settle down with so I can get some grand babies.”

“Okay, let’s cool your jets on that, honey,” Wheeler’s dad says. “He’s gotten you new earrings and me a lawn mower. Let’s be happy with where he’s at right now.”

Wheeler grins. “Yeah, we’ll talk about the son in law later. When I meet him.”

He doesn’t want to admit that, in his dreams, he’s already met him.

~

He resists the urge to text Claudio when he’s trashed off of Kris’ Space Juice during their holiday party. Kris is making out with Willow, finally, who is sitting on their clothes washer. Chuck and Cassidy are singing terrible Disney karaoke curled around each other. Trent and Rocky are snuggled up with each other on the couch, heads so close they might as well be kissing.

And Yuta’s got his phone in his hand, tempted to text his boss and dump all of his feelings.

“It’s, like, 6am in Switzerland,” he tells himself. “Calling is a bad idea.”

“Who’re you talking to?”

Yuta lifts his head. “Oh, hey, Willow.” He looks around. “Weren’t you just making out with Kris?”

Willow beams, leaning against the door frame. The word ethereal comes to Yuta’s mind. “Yeah,” she sighs. “But she had to go refill the Space Juice, so I figured I’d come find you and say hi.” She studies him. “Whoever it is, you’ve got it bad. Like, Danny bad.”

“I done! I mean, I don’t!”

Willow raises an eyebrow. “You done?”

“Shut up. I’m drunk.” He throws back the rest of his cup, like he’s trying to prove it. “I’m totally normal about my boss. And don’t talk about Danny.”

“I think,” Willow says, adjusting her sleeves. She’s got a new tattoo. Maybe Yuta should get a tattoo. “If you were normal about your boss, you wouldn’t be insisting so hard about being normal about your boss.” She adjusts his collar. “I think you should go for it. The worst he could do is say no, right?”

The worst he could do is turn into a wolf and rip my throat out, and I think I would kind of be into that, Yuta very intentionally does not say. “The worst is he could fire me.”

“Doubt it,” Willow singsongs. “Oh! They’re playing Third Eye Blind!” She grabs his arm. “Come on, you dumb lovesick idiot, we’re dancing.”

And they do. Well, sort of. He ends up squished in between Willow and Kris in a way that makes him wish he was bisexual as they dance to a bunch of 90s hits. At one point, karaoke becomes the event of the evening, and Yuta warbles his way through early 00s hits he’s not sure how he knows. Just like they always did back in college, the three of them fall asleep in his bed, drunk and happy.

He can’t help but wish though, as sleep overtakes him, that he were sharing the bed with Claudio instead. Especially when Willow and Kris curl around each other.

~

Yuta sleeps through the 29th, deciding to keep the hangover at bay by deciding it doesn’t exist. Sometime around 5:30, he wakes up to see the house a mess with Chuck and Cassidy on the couch.

“This place is trashed,” he mutters.

Chuck nods. “We just got up, like, an hour ago. He was hungry.”

“Ordered pizza,” Cassidy deadpans. “Got your favorite.”

“Aw,” Yuta says, even if the thought of food makes him a little queasy. “That’s – that’s really nice.”

“Least we could do for a guy who cried singing Everytime We Touch.”

Yuta winces. “Goddamn it. I thought that was a nightmare.”

“Nope,” Cassidy says. He’s smiling, even under the sunglasses. “That happened.”

“You were great, man,” Chuck says, shit eating grin saying otherwise. “Love the way the tears started when you sang, ‘Without you it’s hard to survive.’ Very melodramatic.”

“I’m taking a shower and eating pizza and going back to bed,” Yuta mumbles, digging out a bottle of Gatorade.

~

He wakes up the next morning feeling better, and decides to get the house under control since Chuck and Cassidy were stuck at work. The 30th of December, he decides, is a useless day, and he’s elbow deep in the sink when he gets the phone call he had been fighting not to make for days.

“Wheeler,” comes Claudio’s voice, and it almost sounds fraught. “Hello.”

“Hey, Claudio,” Yuta says. He balances the phone between his arm and the dishes, frowning at how much is still left to clean after their holiday party. “You okay?”

Claudio sighs deeply. “Well,” he says. “I’ve been – working, of course, you know how it is, but I’d lost track of the calendar.”

Yuta checks. “Oh,” he says, softly. “The full moon.”

“I shouldn’t ask it of you,” Claudio says. “You’re on vacation…”

“No, I’ll be there,” Yuta says. “When do you need me?”

“Prior to six, would be best,” Claudio says. “I – I should not have called you. This is wrong.”

“No, it’s not,” Yuta says. He wipes off his hands. “Why would it be wrong?”

“Because I shouldn’t be asking for your help during your vacation,” he says.

Yuta doesn’t know how to tell Claudio that’s the only place he wants to be. “Claudio,” he says, as gently as he can. “I want to be there.”

“Okay.” Yuta can hear the stress in his voice, wonders what happened in Switzerland that made him miss the full moon. “I’ll see you at the office soon.”

Yuta hangs up. He shoots off a quick text to Chuck, explaining he’s going to stay with his parents for the night, and he hopes he doesn’t get caught in the lie. He texts his mom as well.

“Why do you need me to lie for you?” she asks on the phone.

“Just – I have to – it’s not a date, but it sort of is.” He winces.

His mom, to his surprise, is quiet. “Not a date,” she says. There’s a laugh behind her words. “Sure it isn’t. I’ve got your back, baby. Just stay safe. And use a –”

“Love you, Mom, bye!”

He’s twenty-six goddamned years old. He does not need a sex talk from his mother. But, in a weird way, it’s kind of sweet that she cares enough to offer it.

And he does want kids. Eventually.

He shakes himself out of it, and puts on an old playlist he made in middle school. Everytime We Touch plays first, and he can’t decide what the omen is.

He puts together a bag, including the suit he’d bought specifically for the company New Year’s party the next night, and finishes the dishes as quickly as he can. A quick glance, and he’s pretty sure the apartment looks acceptable. Except for his bedroom, which is a mess. But that’s nothing new.

“Okay,” he says. “This isn’t a date.”

The butcher’s shop is open, a sweet older lady running the counter, and Yuta’s able to make the purchase and a little small talk as he waits for his order. He leaves a massive tip.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that,” she says, frowning. “That’s far too generous.”

“It’s the holidays, right?” he says, grinning. “Generous is the whole thing.”

He gets to work and swipes in to the door, the automatic clock in registering. He frowns. He’ll have to check in with Claudio about taking that off.

He drops his things by his desk and pulls out the cot, setting it up with the blanket, then makes his way downstairs to grab the tarp. He’ll have to wait until it’s dark out to pull out the deer, as always.

He’s playing a game on his phone when he hears footsteps.

“Claudio!” he says, grinning. “Hi!”

Claudio looks almost haggard, tired. “Hello, Wheeler,” he says softly.

“You look – what’s wrong?”

Claudio sighs, mournful. “Switzerland was less than pleasant.” He glances to the office. “Did you already…?”

Yuta nods. “I got the place ready for you. I hope that’s okay.”

Claudio finally smiles. “Thank you. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you…” He trails off and sighs. “I appreciate you, Wheeler.”

Yuta wants to ask why he looks so miserable, who made him look that sad. He wants to ask what happened in Switzerland. He wants to ask why Claudio came back from holidays looking like he’d rather be at work.

But instead he stays silent.

“Do you want me to come hang out with you?” he asks. “We can roll the ball around.”

Claudio shakes his head. “I think the wolf and I would like to be alone tonight, but thank you.” He turns. “But knowing you’re here makes it much easier.”

Yuta wants to push, to insist. But he doesn’t.

It’s earlier than it usually is for Claudio to need privacy. Usually, Yuta hangs out with him for a while. More than once, Claudio had nudged him with his snout as he began to doze, insisting he go to bed. But never has Claudio asked him not to come in at all.

Yuta curls up with Jurassic Park, an easy comfort, and snuggles in as the automatic lights dim. At first, he hears muted tearing. Then, silence.

In the middle of a dinosaur chase scene, he hears a whimper from the room. He sits up.

“Claudio?” he asks.

Another roar from his phone, and then he hears the kind of whimper only heard from injured dogs, an aching howl. He pauses the video, grabs his phone, and darts into the office.

Claudio, in wolf form, is shaking, eyes shut firmly, and whimpering loudly.

“Hey,” Yuta says, kneeling beside him. He pets the thick fur, trying his best to be a comfort. “Claudio, wake up. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

The whimpers grow louder, a leg kicks out.

“Claudio,” Yuta says more firmly. “Come on, baby, wake up.”

A loud, miserable growl, and the wolf’s eyes snap open, locking on Yuta’s. There are tears.

“You’re okay,” Yuta promises. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay.”

“Where am I?” Claudio demands, hackles raising. He bares his teeth at Yuta.

“It’s just me, and we’re in your office,” Yuta answers, trying to stay as calm as he can. “It’s just us.”

The wolf relaxes. His eyes soften. And then he wails.

“Oh, no, you’re okay, baby.” Yuta wraps his arms around the wolf’s neck. “Hey. Breathe.”

“I hurt them,” he gasps. “Yuta, I hurt them.”

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Yuta says, and he shuffles closer, trying to get more of Claudio to comfort him. “I promise. Everything’s okay.”

“The growling,” Claudio says, almost a question.

“Claudio,” Yuta says, pulling him into his arms, despite the blood. “Hey. Breathe. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nobody’s hurt.” Claudio is shaking, but buries his face into Yuta’s lap and exhales. “What – this isn’t usually how you react.”

Claudio lifts his head. “I – there were noises,” he says quietly. Yuta’s never seen him panicked, never seen the veneer of concentration and focus and CEO gone. “I heard people. I remembered.” His eyes go wild, just for a moment. But not like a rabid wolf. Like a scared child.

“I was watching Jurassic Park,” Yuta assures. “There’s nobody else here.”

Claudio relaxes immediately. “No one could get hurt,” he says. “Except for you.”

“Have you ever hurt someone as the wolf?” Yuta asks, as gently as he can. He pets the soft head of the wolf, the fur sliding smoothly through his fingers.

Claudio’s eyes are closed as he speaks. “Never,” he murmurs. His voice is a soft growl against Yuta’s thighs. It’s almost too warm, but Yuta never wants it to stop. “But I could. I could.”

Yuta keeps petting the wolf’s head until his breathing steadies. “What happened when you were in Switzerland, Claudio?” he asks.

And he waits.

“My sisters,” Claudio finally says. “They say I – I play with my food.” He exhales, relaxing into Yuta’s lap.

“Meaning?” Yuta asks. He finds a spot behind the wolf’s ear that makes him relax even further, and smiles.

“In the past,” Claudio murmurs, “I’ve been…unkind with my compatriots. Demanded my authority instead of earning it.” He hums as Yuta continues petting behind his ear. “I told you we played as puppies, yes?”

“You did.”

Claudio sighs. “Sometimes the play was my attempt to prove I was better than them. Than everyone.” He curls into Yuta’s space more. “My sisters run the Swiss branch of the company,” he says quietly. “I am not in the United States voluntarily. You could call it an exile. A punishment.”

Yuta’s hand stills. “Because you hurt someone?”

“Me,” Claudio says. “Not the wolf.”

They’re quiet briefly. Yuta doesn’t want to break the spell of solace, of truth that seems to whirl around them.

“I no longer feel this place is a punishment,” Claudio murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Not for a long time.”

He falls asleep, head still in Yuta’s lap. And Yuta curls up. And sleeps with his head rested on the wolf’s giant shoulder.

~

He wakes up with Claudio, naked, curled around him, a hand splayed across Yuta’s stomach.

“Oh boy,” Yuta mutters. He’d forgotten about the naked part last night when they’d fallen asleep together. As he shifts, he very intentionally looks away from the hard length that had been pressed up against him when he woke up, and shuffles out from Claudio’s grip. Claudio’s fingers grip his shirt.

“Claudio,” he murmurs. “Hey, I’m right here, but I’m going to get up now, okay?”

There’s an almost cute little sound, then Claudio opens bleary eyes. “You stayed?” he asks. “All night?”

“Just about,” Yuta says. “You feel okay?”

Claudio pushes himself to sitting, then seems to notice he’s stark naked. He opens his mouth, but Yuta tosses his pants and a shirt over to him.

“Thank you,” Claudio says, and the little blush across his cheeks is so charming Yuta wants to paint it. “For – for everything.” He looks up as he pulls his pants on. “Truly, I do not deserve it.”

“Bullshit,” Yuta says. “You do.”

Things aren’t exactly awkward as they set up the place for the party, but Yuta doesn’t change out of his pajamas until around 4, and can tell Claudio’s got his eyes on him more than a little bit.

“I forgot to mention,” Yuta says, adjusting the Christmas tree, “the door clocked me in automatically last night. Make sure to take that off before the next paycheck.”

“Take it off?” Claudio asks. He comes over and takes the ornament from Yuta’s hand, settling the ornament with ease. Yuta can’t decide if it was annoying or hot. “Why?”

“Because I wasn’t here last night to help my boss,” Yuta says. “I was here to help my – my friend.”

Friend’s the wrong word. He knows it. But he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to call Claudio what he wants to: his.

Claudio looks almost confused. “Are you certain?”

“Claudio,” Yuta says, resting a hand on Claudio’s arm. “This isn’t part of the job. Not anymore.”

There’s an exhale, controlled and careful, from Claudio. “Yuta, I –”

“Alright, fuckers, how badly did you decorate this place?” Mox walks in, chugging a coffee so quickly Yuta wonders how he didn’t burn his mouth. “Why the fuck is the kid in pajamas?”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to put up decorations in my suit,” Yuta says. He looks Mox up and down. “You’re in jeans and an undershirt, man, you can’t talk.”

Mox shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “I got a nice shirt and my good jeans in here. Claudio always asks me to come help set up, so I figured I’d dress normal then get all fancy later.”

“Trying to impress Renee?” Yuta grins at him, and Claudio chuckles.

“Fuck off,” Mox mutters. He glances toward Claudio. “Make him shut up before I throw something at him.”

“I find it hilarious you think I could ‘make’ Wheeler do anything,” Claudio says.

Yuta laughs. “Alright, well, if people are starting to get here, I might as well get showered.” He wants to continue the conversation with Claudio, but can tell the moment is long gone. “Later.”

His bag over his shoulder, Yuta makes his way down to the showers and has time alone for the first time all night. It doesn’t take long for him to imagine where his conversation with Claudio may have gone, and it only takes a few moments longer than that for him to sigh and give in to the urge to get off. He closes his eyes, hand around his cock, and imagines it’s Claudio’s hand, Claudio’s mouth. On impulse, he slides a hand behind himself and pretends it’s one of Claudio’s fingers slipping inside him. He whimpers, desperate, and comes faster than he expects, all over the place.

“Shit,” he murmurs. He tries to angle the showerhead to get the mess taken care of, but it takes some talent to get it off the glass door. “That’s what I get…”

“Are you alright, Wheeler?”

Yuta freezes. “Claudio? Yeah, I’m good.” He won’t make it weird. He won’t make it weird. “You showering?”

Goddamn it. That was a weird thing to say.

“Um. Yes, of course.” He can hear Claudio step into the shower next to him, the water turning on.

He’s too close, close enough for Yuta to smell the body wash he uses, and he wishes he hadn’t just gotten off. He thinks he could come from the proximity alone, if he was really worked up.

“Uh, so, I won’t waste the hot water,” Yuta says, rinsing himself off again. He turns the water cold. “You want to borrow my shampoo?”

Claudio laughs, and Yuta thinks he’d do anything to earn it every day. “Very funny, Wheeler. Go get dressed and leave me to shower in peace.”

Yuta wants to do anything but that, but he’ll respect Claudio’s wishes.

He steps into the changing area, a spacious mini room in front of the showers separated by the glass curtain, but he can still hear Claudio. He’s sure Claudio knows he’s there, dressing.

So why can he hear something slick and a low grunt?

Yuta’s heart races as he dries off, trying to make a little bit of noise to make it clear he’s still there. But they noises don’t stop.

He wants to walk in.

He wants to step in the shower with Claudio, give him a better way to make the shower messy.

But he can’t move. Yuta’s frozen in place.

“Later,” he whispers to himself, and he continues to dress. When he’s done, he hears a moan from Claudio’s shower stall, and tries not to see the mental image.

~

“Chuck,” Yuta says, turning the mic toward his mouth so no one overhears. “Chuck. Claudio is in a suit and I am only a man. A very, very gay man.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chuck grumbles. “Fuck. You can’t go anywhere without getting an inappropriate boner, can you.”

“What do I do?” Yuta hisses. “Do I act normal? This party goes late – do I ask him if he –” Yuta catches himself before he can divulge Claudio’s secret.

“I’m sure you can keep it in your pants for a couple of hours,” Chuck says. “Breathe, dumbass. You and your hot boss can flirt all you want tonight.”

Yuta whines a little. “You could be a little nice to me about this. I never made fun of you about liking Cassidy.”

“You definitely fucking did,” Chuck laughs. “This is payback.”

He hangs up, and Yuta is too gay for this, and maybe, just maybe, this is the night he finally loses it. Looking at Claudio, he can hear the sounds he made when he came. And he knows that’s what he was doing.

Yuta exhales and grabs a glass of champagne from a passing tray, and throws it back.

“Slow down, sucker,” A tall woman laughs, arm around Marina’s waist. “That shit is, like, thirty dollars a glass.”

“Then where do they keep the cheap shit I can chug?” Yuta asks, grinning. “Also, hi. I’m Yuta.”

“I’m Nyla,” says Marina’s wife. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Yuta shakes her hand and glances over his shoulder to see Claudio talking it up with some hot, younger woman.

“Oh, wow,” Nyla says, chuckling. “You weren’t kidding, Marina. The kid’s down bad.”

“I am not!”

Marina straight up laughs in his face and claps him on the shoulder. “You keep telling yourself that, kiddo.” And she walks away.

Yuta glues himself to Mox’s side for the rest of the night, since Mox doesn’t seem able to talk to Renee, and it helps. A little.

“Would you leave me alone?” Mox asks. “Jesus, you’re like a baby koala or something.”

“You like me and you know it,” Yuta says. “Just admit we’re friends.”

“No,” Mox says, sipping his diet Coke. “We are not.”

“We are, and you love it,” Yuta says.

The chimes go off to announce a minute away from the ball dropping, and it’s sooner than Yuta had expected.

“Midnight,” Mox says. “Are you gonna kiss Claudio?”

“Are you going to kiss Renee?”

Mox’s eyes widen. “What?”

“You are so obvious and so is she,” Yuta says, rolling his eyes. “If you’re going to shit talk me, I’ll shit talk you, back.” He grins. “So. Go see if Renee will kiss you at midnight.”

“I can’t!”

“You should,” Yuta says. “If I kiss Claudio, will you kiss Renee?”

Mox’s eyes flit around Yuta, to where he can only assume Renee is standing. “Yeah,” he says, scoffing. “Yeah, if Claudio kisses you at midnight, I’ll kiss Renee.”

“Alright then.” Yuta strides over to Claudio. “Hey.”

“Wheeler,” he says, smiling. He seems more relaxed than the morning. Yuta thinks he knows why. “How lovely –”

“I’m going to kiss you at midnight,” Yuta says firmly. He forces himself to keep his eyes locked on Claudio’s. “And if you have a problem with that, I suggest you walk away.”

The woman grins, stepping away. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” She winks.

Claudio visibly swallows. “Is – are you sure you want that?”

“Are you – seriously?” Yuta leans in, his lips by Claudio’s ear. “We fell asleep together last night. You jerked off earlier when you knew I was changing one stall over.” He grabs Claudio’s tie and yanks him closer. “I’m tired of pretending, Claudio. I’m tired of waiting and wanting and not knowing.” They’re so fucking close. “Are you going to kiss me at midnight?”

“No, Wheeler,” and there’s that growl. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Claudio hauls him in by the waist and presses his mouth to Yuta’s without another moment’s hesitation, and Yuta swears he sees fireworks behind his eyes. He whimpers against Claudio’s lips, throwing his arms around Claudio’s neck, and his skin burns as Claudio’s hands splay against his back, reminiscent of the morning. It makes Yuta’s head spin with it, and he deepens the kiss, clinging to Claudio.

Somebody wolf whistles. Somebody else swears.

Everyone else counts down to one, but it doesn’t matter.

Everything new started for Yuta the second his lips touched Claudio’s.

~

The party goes on far too long. Yuta stays close to Claudio, hand in his, for the party. Mox and Renee seem to have kissed, sure, but Mox also ran off somewhere else around 12:15, so he doesn’t know what actually happened there.

Around 2am, the party starts to wind down and people leave. The anticipation is too much for Yuta – he wants Claudio. He wants him now.

“Claudio,” he says, standing on his toes to speak into his ear, “you should probably kick everyone out now.”

Claudio laughs. “Patience, Wheeler.”

Yuta rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like working here for almost a year hasn’t been patient enough. Jesus.”

But finally, finally, everyone else is gone.

“Get your ass over here,” Yuta growls, and he practically throws himself into Claudio’s arms. The growl from Claudio is almost more on his wolf side, and isn’t that intriguing how it makes Yuta harder. “If you don’t fuck me right now,” Yuta says, lips still pressed to Claudio’s, “I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“Hold on,” Claudio says, and for a sickening minute Yuta worries he misinterpreted something. “I want to.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “God, do I want to. But I want to make sure you know what you’re asking for.”

In the middle of the room, Claudio strips his clothes and turns into the wolf. “This is also who I am, Yuta,” he says. “If you – if you choose this, you choose all of me.”

Yuta strides up to him and pets his fur. “Yeah. And?”

Claudio grabs him with one hand and picks him up, depositing him into his office. He runs his tongue along his sharp teeth. “Are you afraid, Wheeler?” he asks, eyes on Yuta’s mouth. “Does this make you want to run?”

“It should,” Yuta says, heart racing again.

Claudio – the wolf – Claudio leans in, nose at Yuta’s neck. “I don’t smell fear,” he says, and the low growl is clearly a chuckle. “Intriguing.”

“I – okay, that’s not fair.” It’s not embarrassment that’s running his mouth at this point. “You’re not allowed to be all hot and huge and whatever and not expect me to get a boner about it.” He slams his mouth shut. “Also, fuck off. You knew all of that already.”

Claudio grins. “I did, but it was delicious to hear you say it.” He leans in again and inhales. “You would tell me to stop, yes?”

“I sure as fuck wouldn’t,” Yuta says.

Claudio freezes, pulling away. “I am so sorry,” he says. The regret on a wolf face looks bizarre, like a kicked puppy standing in the room full of spilled kibble but with gigantic fucking fangs. “Of course, this is a breach of trust. I’m your boss.” He steps away, transforming back into the wolf-human hybrid, and steps back out the door to gather his clothes. Yuta’s too stunned by Claudio’s naked body to react, and instead just watches him begin to dress, which is the opposite of what he wants. “This is an abuse of power.”

Yuta stares. “For somebody so goddamned powerful, who can smell my fucking dick being hard, you’re pretty bad at reading subtext.” He leans in and does the stupidest thing he can think of: he throws himself at the wolf hybrid, his boss, at Claudio, and kisses the fanged human mouth before he thinks about how easily it could shift into a true wolf. Claudio kisses back. Yuta tastes blood and feels claws on his back.

“Silly me,” Claudio murmurs, fangs dragging down Yuta’s neck. “I had missed the subtext, indeed.” He grabs Yuta’s hips and throws him on the desk. “You’ll be pleased if I ravish you on my desk then?”

“Ravish away, you big – wait.” Yuta pushes himself up on his elbows. “You don’t have, like, some wolfy dick, right?” He’s read some porn about this. Hell, he’s watched some. Read some. “I don’t – I feel like wolf dicks are different.”

Claudio laughs. “Not like this, I don’t.” And he winks.

Yuta decides to examine his distinct and insistent interest in what that means later, and hooks his legs around Claudio’s waist. He reaches up and rips Claudio’s shirt back open, buttons flying everywhere.

“That was Armani!” Claudio says, looking shocked.

Yuta shrugs. “You had champagne on it anyway from when I jumped you earlier. Figured it was a goner.”

“I have dry cleaning to fix champagne,” Claudio mutters, but he dives back in, kissing Yuta thoroughly.

It’s not like kissing a person, is the thing. The fangs dig into his lip, piercing tiny holes that Claudio’s long and intent tongue lick blood from before diving back in. Claudio’s skin is covered in hair, but it’s not the wolf’s, not quite.

He feels something nudge between his legs, and pulls away to look down.

“Fucking Christ,” he mutters. “Where the fuck do you expect me to put that thing?!”

Claudio smirks. “Oh, darling, I’m sure you can take me.” He throws Yuta’s legs over his shoulders. “But, for this time, I assure you I can make adjustments.” He closes his eyes and Yuta watches as his size shifts, and he returns to the normal Claudio from day to day. Well, as normal as an Adonis with a genius IQ can be. “Better?”

Yuta sighs and grins, leaning back on the desk with his hands behind his head. “In a way, I guess.”

Claudio presses a kiss to the inside of Yuta’s thigh. “Delightful. I’ll resume, then.” He dives in before Yuta can react, sucking Yuta’s cock into his mouth, releasing it, then dragging his tongue along Yuta’s balls down to his hole.

“Oh, you brilliant fucker,” Yuta whines. “God – don’t stop.”

Claudio pinches his thigh, as if to say I never intended to, and goes to work. Yuta resists the urge to make a joke about Claudio’s tongue, since it seems in poor taste, but he feels himself worked open with incredible precision.

“I bet you do this to all the office assistants who walk in on you covered in blood,” Yuta jokes, and he’s punished with the distinct lack of Claudio’s tongue in his ass. “What?”

“I assure you,” Claudio says, gaze hungry and intense, “I have never done this before with a human, and I have never had an office assistant as irresistible as you.”

Yuta gets hit with a wave of intensity. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Jesus fucking – get something of yours in me before I lose my fucking mind.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Claudio says, frowning. “I don’t know if we have –

“Go get my bag,” Yuta demands. “You could call it wishful thinking.”

Claudio’s grin goes – well, wolfish. “Gladly.”

Yuta takes the time to catch his breath while Claudio’s gone, and also gets rid of the rest of his clothes. He may be well off now, but he’s definitely not in a place where he can afford to fuck up a suit.

Claudio comes back and tosses the bag to Yuta. “Wishful thinking indeed,” he says as Yuta pulls out the bottle of lube. He sucks two of his own fingers in his mouth, eyes locked on Yuta’s. “First, however.” He presses Yuta back onto the desk, the cool wood a stroking sensation against Yuta’s bare skin, then slides both fingers into Yuta like it’s nothing. Yuta’s eyes roll back in his head as he drops it onto the desk.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, head spinning. “Just – like that, goddamn. Keep doing just that.”

Claudio’s fingers work magic. “I bet I could get you to come like this,” he says, almost clinically, like Yuta is a client who needs a certain kind of sweet talking. He adds lube and another finger. “Not even giving you my dick.” He smiles, and Yuta knows that style too well. He strokes his fingers with the right angle, and fuck. “Have you ever come untouched, Wheeler?” Claudio murmurs, stroking again and again. “Have you ever come dry, so you’re minutes away from coming again?”

Yuta’s entire body is a live wire, twisted into sparking knots by Claudio’s expert fingertips. “No,” he chokes out. “I – haven’t.” His chest is heaving, and something’s building inside of him, something new and just different enough to make him ache for it.

“Hmm,” Claudio says. “I’ll have to change that, then.”

Claudio fucks him with fingers only until Yuta is squirming, aching, and then he gets hit with a wave of unyielding pleasure. Unyielding, also, are Claudio’s fingers, stroking against him, hitting him with wave after wave of overstimulation.

“Claudio,” he half sobs. “Wait, I have to – give me a second.”

Claudio pulls his fingers out slowly, leaving Yuta a strange combination of relieved and devastated. He thinks he can feels tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Interesting,” Claudio says, leaning forward to lick up Yuta’s cock. His entire body jolts, and Claudio grins.

“If you don’t get your cock in me,” Yuta whimpers, aching with need, “I’m going to lose my goddamned mind and quit.”

“I’m sure you would,” Claudio says, and he yanks Yuta down the desk. He throws Yuta’s legs over his shoulders again, blunt head of his cock teasing at Yuta’s entrance. “But I would never make you do so.”

Yuta feels like he’s transcending time and space as Claudio slicks himself up and enters him. Maybe it’s the whole supernatural bullshit, but Yuta feels irreversibly changed and transformed being split in half by Claudio’s cock. “Okay, even your human dick is huge,” he says, shifting his hips as he adjusts. “This is fucking stupid.”

Claudio exhales deeply, settling all the way deeply into Yuta. “You will get used to it, I’m sure.” His grin goes a little soft. “But you tell me when you are ready for me to move.”

“Now, obviously,” Yuta scoffs. Claudio raises an eyebrow. “What, you think I don’t want to be wrecked into oblivion? You already know I’m stupid. I agreed to be a personal assistant for a werewolf who uses tarps to keep the blood from staining the carpet.”

“You are far from stupid,” Claudio says, tilting his hips back. Yuta’s eyes flutter shut as the head of Claudio’s cock grazes his prostate. “I would never have hired someone stupid.”

Yuta exhales as Claudio pushes back in, like he doesn’t have room in his soul for oxygen and Claudio all at once. “You hired Mox.”

“I would appreciate if you didn’t discuss our colleagues while I’m inside of you,” Claudio says casually. He pulls out almost all the way, the head of his cock catching on the rim of Yuta’s hole, and suddenly, irreversibly, Yuta gets the thought that maybe Claudio’s wolf form…

But then all thoughts are fucked out of him when Claudio shoves back into him.

“God damn,” Yuta gasps. “Yeah, that. That’s what I’m looking for.”

“Good,” Claudio says. “Because that is what you will get.”

Yuta always thought that, in this scenario, he’d be out of his mind. Unable to focus, unable to do anything but feel. Instead, he is hyperaware of everything. Of the furrow in Claudio’s brow, of the way the wooden desk feels under his grip, of the way his heels feel digging into Claudio’s shoulders. He feels like the moment has consumed him, like he’ll remember this night forever.

“Claudio,” he manages to say, “I –” But he doesn’t know what he’d planned to come after those words. He doesn’t know what word comes next.

“Are you alright?” Claudio asks, slowing to a stop. It’s the absolute last thing Yuta wants in this moment. “Do you need anything?”

“I – I need you to fuck me!” Yuta half yells. “Oh my god. Maybe I do want the wolf after all. I think he’d be less careful with me.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” and that growl comes out again. Yuta wants to hear his name from that voice, wants it to claim him and make it known. Claudio does his best to say it with his movements, a grip on his waist like iron and focus in his eyes. Yuta lifts his hips to match Claudio. As good as this is he’s unwilling to let Claudio have all the control.

He lets go of where he’s gripping the table to reach forward and wrap a hand around his cock, bucking up into his grip. “Not gonna make me come untouched this time?” he teases, stroking more emphatically than he ever has.

“Not this time, Wheeler,” Claudio says. He winks, eyes still more wolf than human. “Perhaps in the future.”

With a cry, Yuta paints his hand, Claudio’s chest, his own stomach, with come, devolving to a whine as he clenches down on Claudio’s cock. For the first time, he hears Claudio swear and then he feels it: Claudio comes deep inside him, hot and thick.

“Oh my god,” Yuta whimpers, as Claudio fucks his oversensitive, twitching hole before stilling. “Jesus. Is that wolf come or something?”

“How vulgar,” Claudio says, tracing the rim of Yuta’s hole where his softening dick slips out of it. Yuta whimpers again. Claudio slides his fingers inside of Yuta, pumping experimentally, and he pulls them out to trace patterns on Yuta’s thigh. “I expect decorum from my employees, you know.”

“You’re talking a lot of shit about vulgarity and decorum for a man drawing on me with his own come,” Yuta mutters. “Is this a marking thing?” Claudio does it again, and Yuta doesn’t know how to tell him both that he’s too sensitive but also to not stop. “Will it tell all the other wolves that I’m off limits or something?”

He can feel Claudio’s gaze boring into him, so he looks up to meet possessive, insistent eyes. “Yes,” he says. “The whole world will know you belong to me now. Wolf and man.”

He lowers Yuta’s legs gently. “Due to the wolf component, you may find yourself,” he pauses, “leaking more profusely than you’re used to.” He winks.

“Oh, god.” Yuta starts blushing. “Thank god nobody else is in the office, right?”

Claudio laughs and pulls Yuta toward him. “You have to know,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to Yuta’s, “that I’ve been hoping for a moment like this between us for a very long time.” He inhales again. “Now you smell like me. They know you belong to me,”

Yuta exhales slowly, consumed with the idea. “They know,” he says, and he tilts his head up to catch Claudio’s lips. “And so do I.”

~

Mox’s head snaps up as Yuta comes to the door two mornings later, trying to hide his still a little sore walk, with his usual tray of coffees. “Holy shit.”

“What?!” Yuta asks, frowning down at the coffees. “This one is yours! Not the frappucino!”

Mox shakes his head and leans in. He inhales like Claudio does. “Holy shit, you fucked him.”

“I – you all saw we kissed.” Yuta feels himself blush.

“Yeah, but you fucked him,” Mox says. His grin goes – it looks –

It dawns on Yuta. “You motherfucker. You’re a werewolf, too!”

Mox’s grin goes, indeed, wolflike. “I’m the guard for a reason, baby. I can smell traitors.” He winks. “How was it? You go for full wolf form?”

“I am not talking about this to you,” Yuta says, feeling his cheeks burn. “Take your stupid coffee and shut up.”

“I won’t!” Mox yells after him.

Yuta tries to get himself under control in the elevator up to their floor, his entire body zinging a bit with the knowledge that somebody knows.

He wonders who else in this building is a wolf.

He wonders who else Claudio’s mark will be obvious to.

The elevator pings and he steps out, and Renee smiles up at him. “Oh, hey, Wheeler!” she says. Pleasant smile, kind eyes. But it doesn’t look like she knows. He relaxes.

And then her expression changes as he walks over.

“You seem like you had fun the other night,” she says, smile turning sly as she takes her coffee.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but her smile is contagious and he grins back at her. “Yes.”

“I’ll put in a request for a custodian to bring you a standing desk today,” she says with a wink.

“I’ll take that coffee back, I swear!” Yuta says, but he laughs as he gets back to his desk.

Marina’s head snaps up as he walks closer to her. “I knew it,” she says, face blank.

“Knew…what?” He hands her the coffee.

“I knew Claudio had a thing for you.” She takes a swig of the coffee, burning hot, and doesn’t flinch. “I can smell him all over you.” He sees a hint of smile on her lips. “Did you choose the wolf?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me – you’re one too!” he hisses. “And quiet. I don’t want everybody to know.”

Marina scoffs. “Then walk less like you just got freshly fucked.”

Yuta doesn’t have a response to that. “Is anybody else here a werewolf?” he asks in a whisper.

She counts off on her fingers. “Me, Claudio, Mox, and Bryan. All from the same pack.”

“Not Nyla?” Yuta asks. “All her socials call herself the Native Beast.”

Marina scoffs. “My wife thinks it’s funny she’s married to a werewolf and she’s not allowed to tell people, so she makes fun of me about it with TikTok or whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Other than that, nobody you know.” She looks him up and down. “Well, unless you have other werewolf friends I don’t know about, but I think we would have smelled them on you.” She turns back to her computer without another word, taking a sip, and gets back to work.

Yuta settles into his seat, setting his coffee down. The ache is too good. He’s in the zone quickly, headphones on and fingers typing and developing a report, when he feels the familiar figure standing over him.

He turns in his chair, grinning up at Claudio. “Hey, big man.” He winks, trying to throw Claudio off. It doesn’t work. “Need me for something?”

Claudio’s eyes sparkle, but his face remains otherwise steady. “I was hoping to review last night’s data exchange.”

Yuta snorts. “Sure. If that’s what we call it now.” He stands up and follows Claudio into his office, trying to resist the urge to look behind him like, yeah, I’m fucking Castagnoli, what of it?

“I can smell your eagerness,” Claudio says, and he sounds amused. He leans against his desk. “So.”

“So,” Yuta says, leaning against the door. “Here to fuck the charming young ingenue on your desk while the rest of the office blindly works on the other side of the door?”

“Certainly not,” Claudio says. “As you found out from Mox, many of them would be able to figure it out in moments.”

Yuta sighs. “About that – I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that a decent number of your staff are also wolves. That would have made my job so much easier.”

Claudio raises an eyebrow. “Would it have? I doubt it.” His grin goes a little dirty. “How would I know you wouldn’t go to one of them for your interests?”

“None of them are you,” Yuta says honestly, and he tries not to feel too vulnerable with the confession. He looks up into Claudio’s eyes, who is eying Yuta carefully. “Wait, do you think I fucked you just because you’re a werewolf?”

Claudio’s gaze remains blank, carefully blank. Too blank. “There is intrigue in the supernatural,” he says, tone neutral. “I would never hold you to the expectation for more, should you consider New Year’s Eve to be a bucket list encounter.”

Yuta waits. He learned a long time ago that staying silent sometimes gets you more answers than asking the insistent question itching in the back of his mind.

Claudio slides into the chair behind his desk, folding his hands together. “I understand that you may be reflecting back on the evening as a one-time experience,” Claudio continues. “I have no problem with that, and have been extremely pleased with your performance both as an employee and as an assistant.” He looks up at Yuta. “I assure you, regardless of your response to the prior evening, which I assure you I enjoyed, you have a job here.”

Yuta pauses before he answers. “Do you think we had sex just because the opportunity presented itself and I was like, ‘hey, why the fuck not’?”

Claudio sighs and leans back in his chair, looking more casual than Yuta’s ever seen him. “I would not be surprised, nor would I hold it against you.”

Yuta settles himself into the chair across from Claudio, kicking his legs up on the desk. “So you brought me in here to preemptively break up with me.”

Claudio frowns. “Absolutely not. I brought you in here to clarify that I expect nothing more than your request from the other night.”

Yuta fights his smile. “So, you’d be okay with whatever my interest would be.”

“Certainly,” Claudio says. “I would never request from you what you could not give.”

Yuta hops the chair closer to the desk so he could be the one leaning on the desk all dramatic. “So, if I were to ask you out, you’d be cool with that.”

Claudio blinks, surprise crossing his face. “Ask me out?”

“Yeah,” Yuta says. “If I wanted to take you to a nice dinner, maybe feel you up during a movie.” He grins. “Since I already know you’ll put out.”

Claudio lets out a little bark of a laugh. “What a way to describe our night together.”

“Fine,” Yuta says, “since I already know you want to make furious love to me on top of your desk.”

Claudio blushes, actually blushes, and Yuta feels a weird rush of power he can’t quite figure out. “You’re teasing me,” Claudio says.

“Sure,” Yuta says, “but I mean it.” He reaches out to catch Claudio’s fingers across the desk, where they’re anxiously tapping. He gets a quick flash of what else they’ve done on this desk and smiles a little. “Have you had a lot of people fuck you for the wolf thing and then dip?”

“Dip?”

“Leave,” Yuta explains, “after the two of you had sex the first time. You know. Hit it and quit it. Dick down and leave town. Fuck it and chuck it. Rail and bail. Blow and –”

“Understood,” Claudio says, and the little laugh he lets out makes Yuta want to punch everyone who ever made him so sure he wasn’t worth more than a night. “I suppose so, yes.” He sighs. “In the past, I have been less than successful with…partners. And never a human before.”

“They suck,” Yuta says. “You were waiting for me, obviously.” He smiles at Claudio. “What are you doing Friday night after work?” He sits on the desk. “Wanna get a steak or something? See a movie?” He leans in. “Feel each other up on my couch?”

“You have roommates,” Claudio says, tilting his head up to catch Yuta’s lips. “We’ll do so on mine.”

The two of them kiss on the clock, which is rather intriguing, but Yuta pulls away after what is probably too long. “If I stay in here, even the normie humans will know we’re fucking.”

“Fair enough.” He runs a hand through Yuta’s hair. “There. Much better.”

“One more thing,” Yuta says, playing with his fingers. “Um. Can I tell my roommates about you?”

“About how we’re dating?” Claudio asks.

“And the wolf thing,” Yuta says. “Just – so I can talk to somebody about it. So they know.”

Claudio considers it for a moment. “Can you be sure of their discretion?” he asks. “I ask because, in the past, our pack has had problems with that.”

Yuta nods. “Chuck won’t say anything, and I don’t think anything fazes Cassidy anymore.”

“Then, I suppose, yes,” Claudio says. He reaches out and rests a hand on Yuta’s thigh. “At this time, I think I need to be a little more trusting, wouldn’t you say?”

He leans in and kisses Claudio quickly. “I would.” Yuta smiles at Claudio as he pulls away. “Alright. I’m going to go pretend I can be productive for the rest of the work day.” He leans in, one more kiss irresistible, and reaches the door. “Oh. And fix your tie. Somebody messed it all up.”

“Somebody,” Claudio harrumphs. “Like you don’t know you were the culprit.”

Yuta shrugs and throws open the door, striding out to his desk and sitting.

“Aw,” he says, frowning. “My coffee’s all melted.”

“Yeah, I pointed my office lamp at it,” Marina says from the other side of the cubicle. “Your weird boner for Castagnoli was so loud it was getting in the way of my productivity.”

~

“I can’t believe you’re dating your boss,” Chuck says, shaking his head. “Dude.”

“I – you’re dating your boss!” Yuta shrieks. He gestures to Cassidy, who is curled up on the couch against Chuck’s side.

“That’s different,” Chuck says, seeing none of the irony. Yuta throws himself into his chair. “We haven’t even met this guy, and he’s, like, super paying you, right?” He kisses the top of Cassidy’s head. “Orange here is on my same level.”

Cassidy gives a half assed thumbs up. “Our power dynamic is minimally impactful to our relationship due to the inherent dehumanization of retail work.”

“You’re barely awake,” Yuta grumbles. “Go back to sleep.” He turns back to Chuck. “And it’s fine. He actually was trying to tell me we didn’t have to.” Yuta frowns. “I think he’s been burned in the past by people who, like, wanted his big ol’ wolf dick and then dumped him.”

“I still can’t believe werewolves are an actual thing,” Chuck says, shaking his head. “You think you could send him to the shop to yell at shitty customers?”

“Probably,” Yuta says. “But he’s kind of self-conscious about being in wolf form, so it would probably just be as himself.”

Chuck shrugs. “If he’s as hot as you say he is, that might work.”

The three of them and Walter are in the middle of an old episode of Ghost Files when Yuta gets a text. He fumbles the phone, earning a point-and-laugh from Chuck, and opens the text.

Is it weird to text you?

No, Yuta texts back. Texting is normal when you’re dating somebody.

So we’re dating now.

Yuta rolls his eyes, and he can sense how dopey his smile is. Aren’t we?

The call comes through seconds after he clicks send.

“No phone sex!” Chuck yells as Yuta practically skips to his bedroom. “Our walls are thin!”

“You’re not my dad,” Yuta yells back, but he falls into bed, answering. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Claudio says. “I, um, wanted to talk to you.”

Yuta stretches out. “Yeah?”

“I know I just saw you, at work, a few hours ago,” Claudio says. His chuckle is soft, maybe a little embarrassed. “But I wanted to hear you – outside of work.”

“You really don’t have experience dating, do you?” Yuta says. “You can text me whenever you want, and we can talk outside of work just to talk.” He pulls his pillow to hug it. “Just to hear your voice.”

Claudio’s exhale is audible. “Great. Mox said I was being stupid.”

“Mox is stupid,” Yuta corrects. “He won’t even ask out Renee and the two of them have been making eyes at each other at work for, like, months now. And I’m pretty sure they kissed at midnight, so he really has no excuse now.”

Yuta has to shove his face in a pillow at the sound of Claudio’s laugh. “You’ve got a point there,” Claudio says. “We may move in packs, but we also struggle to branch out.”

“No kidding,” he plays with a loose thread on his comforter, something he can now afford to replace but can’t bring himself to do.

The two of them talk for longer than Yuta had planned on staying up on a work night. Claudio discusses the struggles of growing up different, and Yuta relates on a more surface level due to growing up bilingual and gay and struggling with juggling two cultures and two languages. They discuss college and the transition to being an adult.

“My father was always the leader of the pack,” Claudio explains. “He owned the company before I took over. He…died, a few years back.”

Yuta lets that sink in before he says, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been years,” Claudio says, but Yuta thinks he can see the look of careful blankness over Claudio’s eyes, like he’s trying not to feel anything. “But, I think, perhaps I inherited his general sense of disdain for anyone not in the pack. A mistake of mine, I suppose. One you helped me determine.”

“Glad to be of service,” Yuta says. “Sorry. That was weird.”

Claudio’s laugh is lovely. “It was, but that’s what I like about you.”

Yuta intends to respond, to say pretty much anything, but instead he yawns so widely and so loudly that Claudio can’t have missed it. “I like you, too,” Yuta says, deliberately misquoting.

“It’s late,” Claudio says, “and I’ve already kept you up far too long. Go to sleep, Wheeler, dear.” He pauses on the pet name, like he’s waiting for Yuta to fight it.

“Night, baby,” Yuta tries, and the little intake of breath on the other end of the line warms him top of his head to toes.

They disconnect the line, and Yuta shoves his face in his pillow again, kicking his feet like a teenager. He leaves to brush his teeth and runs into Chuck, stretching in his pajamas.

“You look happy,” he says, scanning Yuta. “Jesus. You look really happy. Like, how you looked before everything went to shit with Danny.”

Even the name of his ex doesn’t take away any of his excitement, a first. “Yeah,” Yuta says. “I’m – excited.” He grins. “I think he’s as damaged as me, you know? I’m taking him on a date Friday night.”

“You’re taking him?” Chuck asks. “Isn’t he, like, fifteen years older than you and stupid rich?”

“Yeah,” Yuta says, “but he’s never been wooed before. Nobody’s ever, like, taken care of him.” Yuta leans against the wall. “Chuck, I’m gonna marry that dude. I’m gonna propose and he’s gonna be so stupid and cute about it.”

Chuck raises an eyebrow. “You’re talking big game for somebody you only started officially dating today.”

Yuta turns to him, grinning. “It’s the call of the moon, baby. Written in the stars or whatever.”

Chuck groans. “Fuck, you’re annoying.”

“Yeah,” Yuta says, sighing. He lets his possible future fly across his vision. Their date Friday night, when Yuta asks to call Claudio his boyfriend, what they might do about living situations. He wouldn’t hate to move out of Chuck’s apartment. “I know.”

~

Mini playlist:

Hungry Like the Wolf - Duran Duran

Everytime We Touch - Cascada

I Want It - Two Feet

Nonsense - Sabrina Carpenter

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

A/N: I got another prompt done on time today! Yippeeee! Anyways, I’m (semi) proud to present my first COMPLETED Lockwood & Co. prompt for Whumptober. Enjoy your dose of oblivious Locklyle for the day ;)

“I told you it was going to be sunny today.”

“Yes, well—”

“And hot.”

“We work after sund—"

“And to leave that ridiculous coat behind.”

“I always wear it, and it’s never been a problem. Until today.”

I stared at Lockwood, his nose and cheeks burnt an impressive shade of scarlet. His skin was still clammy from when he had passed out earlier that day from heat exhaustion, and he had a cool, wet towel hastily thrown over his bare shoulders.

“It’s never a problem, until it is,” George hollered peevishly from the kitchen. “Like when that ‘weak shade’ wasn’t a problem until it was a spectre that really hated three underinformed agents digging up its calcified remains.”

Lockwood sighed, then flinched as I put another dab of the burn cream on his face.

“Don’t know why you insisted on doing this yourself,” Lockwood muttered. He was still very grumpy about the whole affair, but I couldn’t get the image of how very pale he had appeared when he had passed out. How hot his face had felt when I had placed my palm on his forehead to check his temperature. Thank goodness DEPRAC already had a van there. Lockwood did have a point about how unlikely it was for an agent to get heatstroke.

Actually, his cheeks still felt rather hot, but I quickly attributed that to his minor sunburns.

“Would you rather George did it?” I asked, and Lockwood pursed his lips. George’s voice was farther away now, echoing up from the basement as he filed away our case from the previous night.

“—did he let you finish your research? No! Always blundering about and hoping that things shake out alright…”

“No,” he replied decisively.

I smiled triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

With that, our conversation lapsed into silence. The door to the basement must had swung shut on its own – its old, heavy hinges tended to do so – because we caught only occasional snippets of George’s ranting from downstairs.

“You’re not actually mad, are you, Luce?”

Lockwood’s sudden question caught me off guard, and I froze with my hand halfway out of the jar of burn ointment. Confused, I prompted, “about what?”

“Ah— about the whole coat thing,” he replied, obviously trying for a more casual tone in an attempt to resurrect the conversation. His gaze drifted behind me as he busily examined one of the many masks and other trinkets hung up on the wall.

“No.” It was a simple answer for a simple dilemma. When it came down to it, that wasn’t what was bothering me about this in the first place. “I just wish you hadn’t waited to tell everyone you felt like you were about to pass out because of said coat. There is such thing as dressing for the weather, you know.”

“So I have been told,” he said dryly.

Shaking my head slowly, I put another daub of the ointment on Lockwood’s nose. “You surprised us, that’s all,” I said quietly. It’s never a good thing to see your coworkers passing out spontaneously on the job, even more so in my profession. Because sometimes they never came back from that.

“Ah…” Lockwood trailed off. I stared at the ointment jar on the side table. The table was scattered with biscuit crumbs and who knew what else. We really needed to clean up around there.

“Thank you.”

I looked back at Lockwood, his reddened, splotchy face now coated in a slimy layer of the ointment, his usually flawless dark hair sticking out in odd directions, white shirt smeared with dirt and felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Somehow, even with all of that, he managed to look perfectly relaxed, dignified even.

Fixing the lid back on the ointment jar, I smiled and suggested, “tea?”

It had been far too long since any of us had a proper shower and a lie down, but that sounded like the best way to start winding down now. Besides, maybe we could win back George’s good graces if we fixed a good plate of tea and biscuits by the time he finished in the basement.

“That sounds wonderful, Lucy.”

[marengogo]

Rambling in INFJese - Part 8: Me, Myself & Jikook

Soweto - by Victony, Tempoe  [Outlaw]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

🐺 — 🐺 — 🐺—

Ladies, Gentlemen and Distinguished Enbies; I’m finally back well sort of, as I’m writing to you on my train back home.

Although I’m indeed back physically from all the little trips I took during the festive period, between Europe and Africa, I am very thrilled to say that I am also ready to begin a healthy coming back mentally and emotionally, and now those have been pretty absent since November 2019.

Needless to say, the journey toward me being ready to regain my Mind & Emotions has been a fucking struggle. I had to start with admitting that I was not okay first and foremost, which finally happened towards the end of 2020, I must specify that non of my mental or emotional woes had anything to do with COVID the virus only heavily affected my business, which in turn affected my finance etc etc, but we made a miracle recovery in 2022, so thank the spirits for that!. 

In addition, I also had to realise that I was burnt-out through and through, hence, I didn’t have the energy to actually do anything, be it physical or not, and that that was okay. Basically I needed a way to begin my physical, mental and emotional rebirth so the festive trips were mostly planned with that mind state, because even though most of the trips turned out to be incredibly relaxing, mindless and super fun fun; one, the last and main one, wasn’t. 

The last trip I took the one where some of my friends had problems at the airport, that one was specifically related to my family and it was the one I dreaded the most, because it meant I had to face “music” I wasn’t ready to dance to, let alone listen to. This particular trip was meant to happen in 2020, but COVID etc-etc. Then, something happened in 2022 that made it impossible for me to postpone it any further and by November 2022, even though I was still scared shitless, I got to a point in which I wanted and I was ready to finally do this. 

Luckily for me other family members and friends decided to join me on this trip; we love travelling people in my circle, so ANY excuse really! We started with fun stuff first, and travelled like there was no tomorrow and then left the serious part for last (could have, I would have preferred to do the tough part first and the fun last, but that part was during a family gathering and its date was fixed).

So, attend the gathering I did, and low-and-behold, it turned out to be not as bad as I had envisioned it to be. Needless to say, all my fears and insecurities lied within me and were all also amplified by me. Mind you, they were not baseless, because there are some major issues within my family, but what I realised this time around is that for some things there is really nothing I can do about it and that at times, understanding and admitting this is a start. Furthermore, finding a way that would allow me to coexist without compromising myself in an unhealthy way, is the only/best thing I can do. 

Facing things head-on is the best way I know how to do things and for the past 2 years and some I had been scared shitless to do so. The last time I did, November 2019, left me traumatised and the chain reaction of tragic and unfortunate event that followed that didn’t help either.  But 2021 rolled around and though I was still burnt-out and not okay at least a part of me knew I wanted to be okay. Thus, I began with therapy; the best decision I made in my situation, which btw, I had been advised to go to since that fateful November 2019, but I wasn’t ready. Another thing that was important for me to own up to was that; You know yourself best, and if you are not ready, you are not ready. 

People around you that care for you will keep trying to push/guide you into getting to a better place, because in their eyes they see you suffering and are trying to help. If you do have said people in your life, make sure to listen to them, just listening won’t hurt, it is already a blessing in itself to actually have people who care about you. HOWEVER, don’t force yourself to do anything you are not ready for. Always do things on your own time and at your own pace. For example, there is another situation I wanted to resolve in 2022 and ended up not really would have been too much on my plate in addition with my family gathering thingy, but I am now ready so I’ll do it now in 2023. My Own Time, My Own Pace.

And there it is! 2023 is going to be me beginning my journey of proper self-healing 🧡💙. I can feel it in my bones that I’m ready to face all that comes at me and take charge of my life again. Oh and I know you all know I am big on Mythology, but Astrology is also another of my passions, so just in case you were curious about the colour palette and keywords for your sign this year, please find them following I’m Gemini BTW:

Now, Let’s talk Jikook shall we? 

In reality I’d like to talk BTS, but then again, I mean, when don't I want to talk BTS 😜. For example, I’d like to point out that Jin’s first month away is officially today and now there are 17 more months to go. I know it sounds like no time has passed, but if you think about it, 30/31 days have come and gone and even though I miss him like hell I check that bloody count-down everyday, I am so freaking happy just being able to say; 1 month down, 17 to go (We started at 548 days y’all!).

The passing of time is indeed made less noticeable when other things are happening doesn’t it? The rest of the members are still very active J-Hope has sort of become the BTS Awards Spokesperson as well as going around the world to perform. Joon is still working on music, Taekook are being Taekook and should be allowed to (in the sense that Tae as always keeps in contact with ARMY as often as he does and on the other hand JK doesn’t 😎; all very regular), Yoongi is Yoonging to the highest degree possible (I have a separate post planned for Min-Fabulous-Gi) and Park Jimin, well Park Jimin; TOMORROW CAN’T COME ANY SOONER:

Time is passing, Time is constant and Time is something that some Jikookers are not understanding, or taking properly into consideration. Time will bring about an unprecedented number of Montagues and will decimate a substantial number of Jikookers. Sure, we are going to get content that was filmed in 2022, documentaries, RUN episodes, we might also see them when all the other members leave for the military but supposing that BTS gets back together December 2025, let’s say 13 December 2025 for counting-sake, which would mean that if we start counting from today, Jikookers are looking at not having any Jikook interaction, possibly, for the next 1067days.

1067 DAYS.

We will all be 2 years older by then, we could have 1 year old children by then, we could be owners of great business by then, life could have changed drastically by then. A lot WILL HAVE happened by then so ...

Please let that sink in and understand what this means.

So what could/does this mean exactly? Publicly, nothing much really, because everything has been the same since July 2019. I’ve already tip-toed on the subject a couple of times but, to be more precise, everything had been the same, publicly, for Jikook, since July 14, 2019, when this selca was published. 

This last non-work related Jikook selca was posted a couple of months after Rose Bowl and way before HickeyGate, one being an out of the blue, hella spontaneous moment, the other being a moment we didn’t witness, but was “explained/reported” to us by Yours-Truly-Jikook. 

After July 14, 2019, any SM/public interaction from Jikook has either come under the form of HBD wishes, brand sponsorship, paid content, RUN BTS or during concert. Thanks so some of which we know that, for example, Jikook still actually do take selcas and JK still does takes videos of JM; we just are most likely never gonna get to see them as of present.

Furthermore, after July 14, 2019, when/if they do hangout together privately, it is either relayed to use through other members or through people who breach privacy for a living, which fuck them indeed. All this just to say that if we properly stopped and think we REALLY HAVEN’T BEEN GIVEN ANYTHING FROM JIKOOK THEMSELVES, ABOUT SOMETHING PRIVATE RELATING TO THEM, FOR AT LEAST 3 YEARS NOW. 

Wanna think even further? After July 2019, Jikook are the only two members who seem to always gravitate towards each other whenever we’ve seen them at Awards shows, they are always in perfect harmony on RUN BTS, they are always happy with each other on Banftan Bombs, and still do shenanigans during their yearly Memories. 

JM, alongside Hobi, brought his pretty self to visit JK on his birthday and on the other hand JK’s mother decided that you know what “we will have a seaweed soup today because it is JM’s birthday, even though he is not my son”. Jikook are seemingly very close and comfortable with each other, like they’ve always been, if not even more than before. Yet they are the only ones who have never commented/liked each other’s posts or INTERACTED on IG. Capulets and Montagues will tell you that because of this lack of interaction, all the aforementioned is clearly fanservice, but you and I, let’s be for real for a second.

We all know the great non-importance of the members interaction with each other on SM, which Yours-Truly-Jin has reminded us of before leaving to serve his country, but also we know very well that, although each couple in the world is different, many famous ones, do stay clear from interacting on SM, particularly if they are not official yet. Take my dearest Zendaya and Tom for example, before they announced their relationship, Zendaya only liked Tom’s IG if it was something directly related to spiderman or if she was directly tagged, which Tom aside for spiderman promotion, Tom has ever only did for her birthday. 

Zendaya had explained that she had always been paranoid for media to find out and she wanted this part of her life to be private, so she was VERY CAREFUL and weary of public interactions as much as she could, but they are both young, human and famous, so people who breach privacy for a job, caught them in a very private moment, which they impulsively had public …

Now that they are out and about together, Zenday is virtually liking all of Tom’s pics, same for Tom with Zendaya’s. Since being official, they’ve posted incredibly sweet birthday posts for each other and Tom is doing the most to promote her projects LOL; but this has been after they became official. 

Now, not only JK and JM live in a rather complicatedly-homophobic country, but they are about to enlist, which ones again, let’s be real, does this seem like the right time to be “parading gay pride and flags”? If I were you, I’d take time to concentrate on members' projects, rewatch all BTS shows from the beginning, take up a hobby if you don’t have one, save money for the biggest concert that will have ever taken place on planet Earth for when they get back in 2025/2026. 1067 days are 1067.

I’m personally rather booked for this year and coming, it seems, mostly private life, but don’t worry, I intend to still write quite a lot, about all members, and things regarding Jikook of course, there is so much that has happened and that is worth discussing, at least it is of interest to me. And if within this 1067 days, Jikook do something, which they intentionally wanted for us to partake in something current and private related to their life, something not pre-recorded, branded etc etc, then please don’t forget that because they DO NOT OWE us any private interactions, THAT would be considered one of the HIGHEST privileges bestowed upon us, by Yours-Kindly-And-Truly-Jikook.  

Very happy to be back and, as always, very respectfully yours,

Happy New Year 2023 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.

[lynnythepynny]

neighborhood heart-throb

tw/cw : smut || fem!reader || oral sex (fem!receiving) || praise kink || mentions of alcohol || pining || pornwplot || awkward-ish plot || joel is giving single divorced dad vibes

he’s gorgeous. 

god how does he not know it?

when you first moved in he was the first to offer his help. him and his brother came over first thing the next morning. both of them were exceptionally sweet, but you were captivated by him. those big strong arms carrying your vanity all the way to your bedroom without complaint. the veins that ran from his knuckles up to elbows. and that greying, short, fluffy hair that jus covered his forehead and kinda curled around his neck and ears.

after a long day of squeezing furniture through your front door, joel and tommy, though exhausted, had kindly refused any kind of payment except for a bit of spaghetti that you’d neatly packaged up for them both to take home. though you may have put a little more care into joel’s.

after that joel would wave to you as he packed his truck for work or when he would take a break from mowing the lawn. he bore a kind smile on his usually stern face every time, asking how you were settling in if your window was open. sometimes you would slip in a small issue just to pique his interest.

“my sink just ain’t draining right mr. miller. could ya fix it for me?”

“that storm last night just happened to take out a bit of my siding mr. miller.”

“mr. miller could you install this new shower head for me?”

of course, you could most likely figure all of those issues out yourself with your own toolbox. hell that shower head came with package instructions. he didn’t have to know that though. 

for now you’d use all the excuses possible to get him to come over. plumbing issues, renovations, even leftover dinner (which he oddly always declined). and this was no different today as you gazed out into your neighbor’s backyard. the window was open and you could just barely hear the birds singing, their beautiful trill sadly overwhelmed by the hum of that old mower. summer was certainly here in texas. the brutal sun had burnt you plenty of times over already and the grass between joel’s house and yours was growing faster than ever. 

your hands are busy in the sink, scrubbing away at a wine glass from days prior, but your eyes are busy watching his back as he pushes the lawnmower. the steaming hot water on the back of your hand brings you back to your own reality. you rinse the glass out, place it on the drying rack, and pick up a small whiskey glass in it’s place. 

tonight you’d planned on making something to cool you down. popsicles were freezing for dessert and you’d already made a batch of lemonade, but you really have absolutely no idea what to make for dinner. 

the hum of the mower grows louder as joel comes up on your window. he kicks the old machine off and grins up into your window. 

“how’re you doin tonight miss?” his sultry accent slides right off his tongue and suddenly your stomach flutters slightly. you smile and wave. 

“i’m doing just fine mr. miller, how about yourself?”

he runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair and chuckles. “tommy’s got me workin horrible hours. had’ta beg him for a day off.” with one hand on his hip he gestures out to his finished yard, clearly exhausted, “an even then, the work never truly stops.”

you nod along sympathetically, truly upset to see the poor man so tired. you could only imagine how hard it must be, being a single dad and working for so long.

an idea sparks in your brain. 

“mr. miller,” you hum, leaning up against the window sill, “how ‘bout you come over for dinner tonight?”

his face drops and both his hands come up in front of his chest, “oh no miss, i’d hate to impose-”

“you’re not imposin’, for the millionth time.” you roll your eyes dramatically, earning a small chuckle from joel, “just come on over after you put sarah to bed. i’ll make dinner and you can relax.”

joel seems to contemplate the idea for a moment, scratching his scruffy cheeks in thought. you watch, your hands white knuckling the whiskey glass, fearful that you'll receive another polite rejection.

a puff of air blows from between his lips as he finally relents. 

“alright, i s’pose i’ll be over tonight.”

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

giddy didn't even begin to explain your current feelings. you were ecstatic, over the moon, befuddled, but also, simply anxious as many people are when they host a dinner at their home, especially for somebody they admire.

you stand in front of your fridge a few hours later, robe wrapped tight around your waist with a towel still on your head. joel still hasn't text back telling you what he wants to eat. 

he didn’t look like much of a soup or stew man. you think maybe he would be a griller. all dads are right? and he had told you he was a hunter before. but you don't have a grill and the only meat you currently have is a package of chicken breasts anyways, which you can't see yourself doing much with if you did even own a grill. 

*ping*

your eyes catch the message on your screen before it fades 

i’ll eat whatever you make. i liked your pasta.

perfect. 

you grab the chicken, a package of frozen noodles, and the ingredients you’d need for a sauce and get to work. 

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

dinner is still in the works when your doorbell rings. you jump a slight bit, wooden spoon falling to the ground with a harsh clatter. 

“just a moment!” you call out even though you know very well who it is. 

you quickly pick up the spoon and cover the cooking pasta with a lid. once you get to the door you take a deep, slow breath and reassure yourself. 

this isn’t a date. you’re just trying to get him out of his house. into your house. to get to know him better. it’s a win - win situation for you both really. nothing bad will happen.

you swing the door open with a small smile. low and behold joel is standing on your front porch, a large bowl held gently in his hands. your eyes rake over him before you can tell yourself to be subtle. 

his peppery hair is freshly washed and pushed back in a neat style. a few stubborn strands fall astray here and there but it all seems to add to his cool and stubborn charm. you can tell by the strong smell of his aftershave that his beard has been trimmed and seemingly brushed over. the hairs definitely weren’t that neat when you last saw him. your eyes stray a little lower and you can’t help but gaze at his chest in that tight black shirt he’s wearing. the red flannel layered over it doesn’t do much to cover the muscle he’s built over the years. 

“what have you got there?” you ask, blinking rapidly to try and clear your mind. 

“it’s just ah,” he avoids eye contact, his fingers thrumming against the sides of the bowl, “just a salad. i figured i’d bring over somethin’ so you didn’t have to do all the cookin’.”

you smile appreciatively and step to the side. “thank you joel. you can just set it on the dinin’ table.” he nods as he walks past you into your kitchen. looking at your ingredient cluttered counter, you suddenly wished you’d picked up a little. 

as you try and stuff down your insecurity, and make sure that dinner is still coming along, joel has a peek around your home. with absolutely no cares about how unkempt your kitchen appears, he wanders through the threshold and into the lounge, his hands now stuffed comfortably into his jean pockets. you watch him from a ways back for a moment, simply taking in the way he strides around so comfortably. 

he saunters up to your fireplace, gazing at your family photos, and picks up a picture of you and your older brother. 

“boyfriend?” he asks, not-so-subtly trying to make the question seem casual. when you almost burst out laughing, catching yourself with a hand slapped over your mouth, his face morphs into some befuddled expression.

“no,” your words come out breathy as you recover, taking the photo from joel and settling it back into it’s place, “that’s my older brother. nice guess though.”

a moment of silence passes between you two as joel processes this information. you hold a shit-eating grin on your face as you continue to hold back sudden bouts of laughter.

“so no boyfriend?” his brow cocks slightly in your direction. you give the same curious look and cross your arms over your chest. 

“why’re you so curious mr. miller?”

joel bites the inside of his cheek, his exhausted eyes meeting your lively ones. he takes in your features, admiring the soft look of your skin and the gentle curl of your lips as you break into a smile. “no reason.” he spits the words out confidently, his own arms coming up to cross below his chest. “i was just curious. i don’t wanna make the same mistake with a picture of you n’ your cousin.”

you roll your eyes and let your arms drop. “okayy.” 

as you walk past him to take dinner off the stove, you wonder if you’d read that conversation right. he was definitely asking to make sure you were single. right? or maybe he really was just asking out of curtesy. like how older relatives always pry at the younger ones' love lives around the holidays. 

you were terrified to flirt too confidently, fearful you would say something wrong or make joel uncomfortable. he was quite a bit older than you after all and was most likely much more adept in conversation, something you had always struggled to get a real grasp on. his 46th birthday had just come around a few months ago. 

fuck he was literally old enough to be your dad. 

you push those thoughts to the back of your head and try to focus on plating your chicken fettuccine. you set the table, one plate on either side, and uncover joel’s salad that sits in the middle of the table. 

you pop the fridge open and call out to your guest. “do you want lemonade or wine, joel?”

“depends what kinda wine you’ve got in there miss.” he walks back into the kitchen and watches as you pull a rounded bottle from the fridge door. 

“ah, it’s a red semi-sweet,” you hum, “shiraz i think?”

"sounds good to me.” he’d always been a bit more of a beer guy, they were easier on his body, but he’d never turn away a good red wine if anyone offered. so while you were busy popping the bottle open, he was busy preparing two of your recently washed wine glasses, still setting on the drying rack. 

he takes a rag he presumes is clean enough and wipes the outsides of the glasses down carefully, then sets them next to you. with slightly shaky hands you fill each glass just about 3/4 of the way full. 

“easy tiger, i gotta know where my front door is when i leave here.” joel teases, picking up both glasses and carefully setting them next to each of your plates. you follow closely behind with the wine bottle and scoff. 

“if you can’t find it i’d be more than happy to help you.”

“that’s real kind of you. and so is all this.” he makes a grand gesture to the table, smiling at you over the salad bowl, “thank you for dinner tonight.” joel fishes the salad tongs out of the dish itself and settles a healthy helping of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers on the side of your plate. once satisfied with your portion he moves on to his own plate. 

“oh it’s no trouble at all really. you look as if you could use a night away.” you reassure him eagerly before digging into your plate. 

“you’re right about that.” he chuckles, taking a slow sip of his wine, “i got tommy lookin’ after sarah tonight. figured i better not eat n run.”

“you are just such a kind soul.” you tease, reaching for your wine to wash down the thick fettuccine sauce. 

this was nice, you think. it was nice to have someone to share a sense of humor with, someone who could not only tease you, but enjoyed when you shot back with the same attitude. joel just made conversation seem so smooth and easy.

joel tucks in to his own plate of pasta, wrapping the noodle around his fork so he didn’t have to slurp like a true gentleman. as he goes to push the food into his mouth though, the noodle slips and he slurps it up so fast that the end whacks him on the tip of his nose. 

sauce dots joel’s nose bridge and stains his mustache. normally he’d be a bit irritated by the failure of his first bite but the way you laugh at his fuck up and those first few sips of wine have his heart feeling a lot lighter tonight. 

joel glides his tongue over his mustache, collecting the leftover sauce that he can reach all while making eye contact with you over the table. you watch him do so and shift a little in your seat. 

suddenly your face feels hot. 

“so,” you avert your gaze and pick up another noodle, “what do you actually do for work?”

“mmm,” joel nods, currently wiping at his face with a napkin, “me n’ tommy are carpenters. flooring, framing, building walls, you name it.” he takes another small bite and put a hand over his mouth to speak. “tommy’s been talkin’ bout starting his own contracting business though. wants me to join him.”

you nod along eagerly, brows raising at what you can only assume is good news. “you should. you guys would be good at it. especially with all the practice i’ve given you over here.”

joel’s eyes crinkle as he laughs and raises his glass to his lips. the red wine goes down smooth and he finds himself subconsciously taking bigger and bigger swigs each time.  “what about you miss? what are you doin’ for work?”

“i’m workin’ from home right now. i specialize in graphic design for companies.” you judge his expression as approval, maybe even surprise, and continue with your explanation. “i’ve got a trip comin’ up soon. they’re flying me out to new york city for it.”

“we’ll have to celebrate before you go then.” joel offers, “dinner can be my treat this time.”

“that sounds wonderful.” you agree, cleaning your plate of the remnants of chicken and salad. 

joel pushes his chair back and stands, taking his empty plate and silverware in his hand. "finished?' he asks, leaning down to be able to look you in the eyes. you gaze up at him, almost feeling stupid as you nod wordlessly. you manage to slip in a quick "thank you joel" as he turns away.

a gentle hum is all you get in response. joel is busy spraying down the plates in the sink.

you stand up as well, pushing in both of your chairs and gathering your wine glass in your hands. "so," you take a small sip of wine, "if you don't wanna eat n run, what do you s'pose we do?" joel chuckles to himself as he joins you, his own wineglass in hand.

"i s'pose we see if that fireplace of yours works." he nudges you with his elbow as he walks past, a grin lining his wine-reddened lips. you follow quickly behind and settle yourself on the cushy sofa.

"have you burned it before?"

"ah, not yet. There should be some wood inside but i was 'fraid i'd burn the house down." you respond, finishing off your glass of wine in one big swing.

the fireplace wasn't really anything fancy. it held your tv atop it, serving more as a decorative piece rather than something you'd use often. rusted wrought iron doors kept stray pieces of cloth, paper, or string from catching light. dark oak that matched the rest of your home made up the rest of structure, encasing your tv in a box with a mantle above it.

joel crouches down in front of it with a stiff groan, you can even hear his knees crack, and eases the iron doors open. "i'm sure we'll be just fine." he tugs a lighter from his jean pocket and clicks it on. using the small flame joel lets a smaller twig catch fire before tossing it on the logs. "we'll see how we get along with that."

It's not long before the fire is practically roaring in your lounge. All the times you'd curled up in a blanket because it was too cold in the house and you seriously could have just lit a fire with a spare lighter and been sweating in minutes.

you really don't know if the wine or the fire has contributed to the warmth on your face more. all you know is that the way joel is sitting on your sofa, his legs spread slightly, one large hand resting on his thigh and the other currently pouring you another glass of wine, is making you want to slide closer. you can still smell his after shave. the musky smell wafts off him and you wonder if he seriously got this ready just to see you.

"watcha lookin' at, hm?"

"huh?" your head snaps up and your mouth hangs agape a bit, completely caught off guard.

joel chuckles, his smile wide enough that you can see his teeth this time. "you just zoned out a lil' there." he lays a hand on your shoulder, slowly dragging it down towards your elbow.

a shiver races up your spine at the feeling of his callused hands on your skin and you blurt, "oh, i was just thinking."

joel must be really feeling the wine too because suddenly he's very invested in your thoughts. "what about?" he prods, letting his fingers continue to linger on your arm. you find yourself leaning into his touch and even scooting a little closer to the older man on the couch.

"nothin' important." you hum, simply staring back at him.

joel does the same, his green eyes flitting over your features as if he's drinking you in. finally, they land on your lips. plush, soft, and stained red from your consistent sipping of the wine. his fingers twitch restlessly against your arm and you think you see something change in his eyes.

before you can pinpoint his expression joel is setting his wine to the side and leaning in closer, his now free hand hovering close to your cheek. a moment of silence passes between the two of you as joel searches for words. blood seems to roar in your ears as you anticipate the question you know he'll ask.

"can i kiss you?"

you've never been more sure about anything as you briskly nod your head and the both of you lean in.

his lips are warm and a little rough but you melt into the kiss nonetheless. joel holds a hand on the back of your head, the other pulling you closer and closer until you end up on his lap. not knowing what to do, your hands find a home against his chest. your heart is racing and your stomach is fluttering. all of your past experience seems to fly out the window and you're not even sure if you're doing things right.

the seam of his jeans catches against your covered clit as joel adjusts his hips a bit, though you know it's on purpose. your sharp nails dig into the smooth cloth of his t-shirt, earning a little groan from joel's lips in return. the sound is a gruff vibrato that rumbles from his chest. you can only imagine how his moans sound. your mind begins to run wild and the feeling in your belly rises, thighs tightening around his hips in an effort to feel something.

joel's large hands roam over your body. from your shoulders to your hips, your ass to your thighs. he gropes and squeezes every supple expanse of flesh he can find but makes a valiant attempt to make his touches at least a bit more gentle. as his lips pull away from yours, significantly puffier and shiner, you notice how they puff out with the effort of huffing for air.

he smiles and grabs one of your hands. "how're you feelin' sweet pea?"

a giddy feeling runs through your body at the new nickname. no more of the uncomfortable "miss". it almost felt like a promotion. "i feel good." you tell him, running your thumb gently over his knuckles.

"yeah?" he stares at you adoringly, pushing your hair out of your face, "do you wanna keep goin'? maybe move on to your room?"

"god, yes." you sigh heavily, your hand tightening slightly around his.

"alright." joel laughs heartily at your reaction, his cheeks going bright red. he grips your thighs and pulls you closer to his stomach. "put your arms around me, pretty." of course you do as he tells you to, arms interlocking at the nape of his neck. once you're secure, joel pushes himself up from the couch cushions and sets off towards your bedroom. the skin on his neck is warm and inviting, smelling heavily of that same damn enticing aftershave. you kiss along his collarbone, over his shoulder, and up his neck.

joel kicks your door open gently with the toe of his boot and crosses the threshold into your bedroom. his heel taps the door shut. you start to get a little more nervous, the hazy buzz of the wine starting to wear off, and as joel lays you down on the edge of your bed he seems to catch on.

his thumb caresses your cheek as he hums, "we can stop anytime you want sweet heart. we can stop right now if you want to okay? just say the word." you nod briskly, lips shut tight in embarrassment. "use your words, tell me if you wanna stop."

"no, i wanna keep going." you tell him, tugging on his flannel collar, "i'm just a little nervous."

joel smiles warmly and nods. "i understand. we'll just take it slow, okay?"

"okay." you breathe.

his hands run down your hips and over your belly. he slides them up under your back and urges you to move up to the headboard where you'd undoubtedly be more comfortable. there's a soft *puff* as your head sinks into the cloud like pillows that he had unknowingly picked out for you when you first moved in. joel kicks off his boots and then crawls after you, fully on his hands and knees, his pupils blown up with lust.

you lean upwards, capturing his lips with yours, and drag him back down with you with a hand on his cheek. joel hums against your mouth, almost giggling into the kiss like a teenage boy. the action is contagious and soon the both of you are separated and laughing softly.

once the both of you were calmed down, joel begins toying with the hem of your t-shirt. "can i take this off sweet pea?"

"of course." you murmur, freely allowing his warm hands to slide up under your shirt, exploring your the soft skin on your belly. once he reaches your ribcage, he pushes the fabric up and over your head revealing your breasts to the cool air in your room.

"shit." he huffs, eyes raking over your body. "you are so pretty sweet heart." joel continues where he left off with you, first placing a kiss on your lips, then your cheek, your jaw, and gradually beginning to travel lower. his lips roam across your neck slowly, stopping every now and then when he finds a particularly sensitive spot that causes you to squirm underneath him. hickeys begin to line your collar bones and, as he continues to go even farther south, the tops of your breasts.

he brings a hand up to test the waters, gently massaging your flesh. your head falls back a bit and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. "does that feel good, hm?" he rumbles.

"yes." the response is airy, your head feeling cloudy as he continues to practically make you melt into the mattress. the only thoughts in your head right now are about him. you are completely, utterly, totally, focused on him.

joel kisses down your sternum, his beard scratching against your skin. "good," he hums quietly, almost grumbling against your belly, "that's what i like to hear." he continues to lay wet kisses along the top of your abdomen. his fingers tease at your waist band, tugging on the stretchy fabric just far enough to allow his mouth to place a gentle kiss beneath.

"joel," you whine, shifting your hips, "please."

his fingers dip below the waistband of your pants yet again, this time toying with the top of your underwear in the process. joel's eyes meet yours, sweet and soft under his thick brows. "can i take these off?" a brisk nod is all he needs to continue, popping the button on your slacks and tugging them down along with your underwear.

you gaze up at him and, when his eyes meet yours, he smiles warmly. "doin' okay?"

"i'm doin' great." you respond, fingers tingling in anticipation as he sinks down between your legs, the muscles in his broad shoulders almost rippling. joel hums in approval, taking his time to kiss his way up your thighs. his teeth nip here and there, leaving purple and red bruises all along your flesh. when he finally reaches your cunt, he blows cool air over pushes sopping folds, chuckling at your surprised hiss. joel swipes his tongue over his lips before finally leaning in.

you gasp at the surprisingly warm feeling of his tongue on your slit, your hips pressing into the mattress.

"ah, ah, don't run." joel murmurs, holding your hips with his arms as he fully digs in. the arch of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit as joel pushes his tongue past your entrance. his tongue curls and pulls, pressing right against that spongey spot that makes your toes curl. hot pleasure runs down your legs and you squeeze your thighs tight around his head. joel chuckles in response, only pulling you closer with his muscular arms.

a rather loud moan of his name falls past your lips and you grab hold of the man's hair, tugging as your arms tense up with the pleasure. the soft tip of his tongue traces a figure eight over your clit repeatedly, the sensation making your knees quake.

"that's right sweetheart," joel encourages you with a muffled groan, his scraggly beard scraping wondrously over the soft plush of your thighs, "cum on my tongue. it's okay." you're entire body trembles, a feeling like no other running up your spine and out through your arms and legs. your chest feels full as you huff and puff, trying to keep yourself quiet.

one of your legs rests over his shoulder, encased in his grip and trembling harshly against his clothes, while the other is left to lay free on the mattress. joel runs his palm along your skin, soothing you, keeping you grounded as you practically lose your mind.

you're right on the precipice, moans slipping out unabashedly at this point. with one more rough scrape of his beard, his tongue lauving up your folds and over your clit, you finally cum.

your chin tilts up and your eyes squeeze shut. joel grunts as your grip on his short hair tightens dramatically, but he doesn't pull away. instead he works you through your orgasm, keeping your hips pressed down, his tongue still lapping gently at your sore clit. you whimper pathetically at the feeling of his wet beard still grazing over your folds. the sharp bristles stick to his lips and cheeks, completely saturated with your cum.

joel raises his head when you've finished and the sight of him makes your head spin.

his eyes are dazed, lips puffy, wet, and red, and his beard is soaked to a deep brown. "you did such a good job sweet pea." joel's hands rub over your thighs and up to your stomach.

"thank you." you huff, smiling up at him as you recover. one of your hands grabs his collar and tugs the man down to your level. you place a sloppy, wet kiss on his lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

when you release his collar, joel pulls away with heavy breaths. his eyes are completely blown up now, almost black, with desire. his hips slot between your own, replacing his face with rough denim, strained against his hard cock. desperate to get him in the same situation as yourself, you begin to push his flannel down his arms.

"steady now," joel laughs, helping you to get his t shirt off, "there's no need to rush sweet heart." as he tosses the fabric to the floor, his lips meet yours for a brief kiss. as much as you want to pull him back in for more, but the aching need for his cock outweighs the need for his lips.

joel pops the button on his jeans and shimmies out of them, kicking the denim off the bed into the pile of both your already discarded clothes. you gaze, completely enamored, at his body. his torso is lightly covered in scars from work. though he's well built, you can't find his abs. there's just a bit of fat layered over what you know is strong muscle. you reach out and joel let's your palms wander over his body, feeling all the way up to his chest.

gently, joel takes both your hands and settles them on your own belly. "keep em there. " he commands, thumbs hooking into his boxers. you swallow harshly, throat going dry as he pulls the tight fabric down his legs.

his cock bobs, head flushed and dripping with pre-cum. he was average in length, but god was he thick.

you stare up at joel, wringing your hands on your stomach while seriously contemplating if he would fit. "that won't-" you begin to gush your thoughts, but he shushes you.

"we'll go slow." he promises, kissing your forehead, "you can take it, i know you can." joel sits back on his knees and spits into his hand. you watch as he works his cock slightly, wetting it down to make it as painless as possible.

once he's satisfied, he leans over your body and presses his lips to your cheek. you can feel the wetness from his beard transferring onto your skin. "ready?" he hums.

you nod in response, grabbing at his bicep to prepare yourself.

joel lines himself up with your soaked entrance, running his head through your folds, teasing you just a bit. the feeling makes you want to cry, pathetic desperation running through your veins. you needed him so bad, and he was messing with you?

"joel, please." you spread your legs for him and dig your nails into his arm.

"oh, what a good girl fer me." he mutters, southern accent thickening immensely, "keep 'em just like that pretty."

slowly, joel sinks his hips forward. the head of his cock presses past your hole easily, and you swear you feel every ridge running along your walls. he watches as your nose scrunches and your eyes fall shut. your lips press into a thin line as he thrusts forward gently, pushing in just an inch more.

every pulsing vein catches on your gummy walls. you almost feel too full when he continues, pushing himself forward inch by inch, keeping his promise to go slow and be gentle. your legs are trembling, nails just about to draw blood from his strained bicep, as he finally bottoms out.

the both of you gasp, hot, heavy breaths hitting each other's faces as joel rests his forehead on yours. it's intimate, the way the arch of his nose settles against yours, the way you can feel his breath gently brushing against your lips. you tilt your head just slightly, catching his lips in a kiss that joel readily replies too. his mouth is hot, lips plush and soft as he kisses you back passionately. you gasp against his lips as joel pulls his hips back slowly, till just his tip rests inside of you.

your hands grapple at his shoulders, clawing and scraping as joel thrusts back into you in one fluid motion. he keeps his movements gentle for the moment, still pressing kisses to your lips, but as the pace picks up, the tip of his cock nudging at your gspot, you lose the energy to kiss him back.

joel watches your face through hooded eyes, your chin tilted and cheeks a bright rouge. your eyes were practically closed, just your pupil's peeking out between your lashes as you gaze back up at him. your hair was ruffled across your damp forehead, some strands sticking to your skin while others stuck straight up.

to him, you were possibly the prettiest mess he had ever seen. what he would give to be able to see this perfect portrait of you every night. your beautiful body spread out, though this time on his sheets, while he fucked you stupid.

staring back down at your fucked out expression, joel chuckles. "you feelin' good pretty baby?" he asks.

"mhm." the sound barely comes out past your quiet whimpers and moans. your brain felt numb, like it was melting into mush, and thoughts no longer swam around your mind. the only thing you even wanted to think of was the heavy drag of his cock along your quivering walls, punishing your cunt with the rough yet steady pace he had set.

"use your words sweet pea," he uses his hand to brush the hair from your forehead.

"yes, fuck, yes joel." you cry to him, your sharp nails digging through the skin on his shoulders all the way down to his waist.

"atta girl," joel growls, his teeth gritting at the burning pleasure that now runs all the way down his back. your cunt squeezes him at the gravelly sound of his voice. he whimpers, voice cracking, as he asks, "gonna cum on my cock, huh?"

"yeah," you puff, "yeahyeahyeah-" you lose track of how many times you tell him yes. you only know the burning hot pleasure that's building in your belly. joel keeps his forehead pressed to yours, his free hand cupping your jaw gently.

"look at me baby," he demands, very carefully nudging your jaw upwards, "just let it go," he's kissing the tense parts of your face, shushing you as you whimper and cry out that it's all too much, "it's okay sweet girl, i've got you."

that's when the pressure in your belly finally overflows. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close so that you can bury your face in his neck. you chant his name like a prayer, right next to his ear just to make sure he can hear.

joel's thrusts become sloppy, his hips canting wildly forward, and his breathing starts to grow shallow. you feel his cock twitch inside of you, but just before joel finishes he pulls out completely. he groans, his nose scrunching, fists squeezing the pillow behind you, as his release lands across your belly.

for a moment all that's heard is the quick breaths between the two of you. a warm feeling grows in your chest as joel presses his face into your neck, sighing heavily.

and then you laugh a little.

"what?" joel picks himself up and looks at you, puzzled.

"nothing," you hum, still dazed, and cup his face, "we should clean up."

"right." he agrees, staring back into your eyes for a second before kissing your forehead. "c'mon then, i'll run you a bath."

[multifandomrandomgirl]

The Ropes That Bind Us - Peter Tork x female!reader PART 14

Masterlist:

Taglist: @strawberry-sunset-skies

“Hey, Y/N! We’re going out for our gig now. Are you sure you’re going to be alright here?” Peter asked, tying his shoelace. The Monkees were going to play at a local restaurant, they were leaving Y/N at home so that she could have some time to herself and relax. 

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry Peter. I honestly think I’m just going to have an early night, I’m shattered!” Y/N smiled, she’d been at the beach all day with Peter and Micky. They’d spent most of the time playing silly, childish games and building sandcastles. They’d only come inside when Mike called them in because they had spent all day outside without any skin protection and Mike, ever the parental figure, was scared they were going to get burnt.

“Okay! Well, we’ll be back at around half-eleven! Have a good evening.” Peter ran and hugged Y/N before picking up his bass and his banjo and heading out of the front door, following Davy and Micky towards the Monkeemobile.

“Have fun!” She called after him.

“See you later, Y/N.” Mike smiled at her before he closed the front door behind himself. Y/N glanced around the empty Pad. She had no idea that it could be this quiet. Y/N had a quick shower before she changed into one of the old shirts that Davy gave her and curled up in bed.

Soon rough, Y/N was flat out, not a single sound could disturb her, not even the sound of someone trying to break down the front door.

“Damn it.” A male voice snapped as he failed again to pick the lock of the Pad. He was determined to get into the house and take Y/N back. In his eyes, the Monkees didn’t need Y/N. He believed that she was useless to them and they only took her out of feeling guilty that she wasn’t like Peter. He wanted her back though, he needed her back in that basement room that he had held her in for the past three years, where she belonged. He knew she didn’t deserve the Monkees, and even if they did care about her, would they go back for her again? He could hurt them again, like he hurt them when he took Peter. Maybe he could get Peter back, the kind boy would surely chase after the girl which would then land him into the trap and then he’d be back in the dark room. He decided that this time, he would gag the girl and the bassist so that they were unable to communicate, he wanted them to suffer and to feel alone. He really would make the pair suffer this time.

“What is all that racket boys? It’s late, I will fine you!” Another male voice appeared, breaking the first one out of his thoughts. “You’re not the boys. Who the hell are you and why are you trying to get in my property?” Mr Babbit shouted angrily.

“Nothing, I’m just. I have something, someone in here that I need to take and the boys aren’t at home to let me reclaim them.” Lord Reynolds responded in annoyance. He was so close to taking Y/N back but the boys’ stupid landlord had caught him.

“You’re not going in there. I don’t care what's there that you want, you’re not having it. I refuse to let you damage my property, and as big of a pain those four boys are, I don’t want anything bad to happen to them, so you get a choice, you can continue, and I’ll call the police on you, or, you can walk away and pay damages. You’ve dented the door and I can see that the lock is dangling slightly. I’ll have to fix it. The choice is yours. However, I’d recommend you pay and then leave, otherwise things won’t be pretty.” Babbit threatened Lord Reynolds.

“You don’t understand, I need it badly. They took a girl from me and I need her back.” 

“I don’t think you do. I know these boys and I know they don’t act without reason. Now, I suggest you decide whether you want me to call the police or you want to pay damages and leave.” Mr Babbit crossed his arms, he made a mental note to ask the Monkees what was going on with that later on.

“I’ll pay, how much do I owe? I’m not having the police interfere.” Lord Reynolds snapped, Mr Babbit smirked. He knew that he’d choose that option and he decided that because the man looked so well off, that he was going to take a significant amount from him to cover rent for the boys.

“Good choice Sir. I’ll be needing ten thousand dollars Sir, you know, damage repair.” Babbit lied, nothing was actually damaged despite the fact he had told Reynolds it was before. He asked for two years worth of rent money for the Monkees. Lord Reynolds sighed and pulled a chequebook out of his pocket and filled in a check for Mr Babbit and handed it to him.

“Thank you Sir. Now kindly remove yourself off my property, if I ever see you around here again, I will phone the police.” Mr Babbit glared at Lord Reynolds. Lord Reynolds scowled and began to walk away.

He swore to himself that he would find a way to take Y/N back, even if it was the last thing he did. He wanted her back where she deserved to be. The money coming in from her parents for him to keep her locked up was good, very good. Although he was already rich, the extra money was nice to have anyway. Y/N’s parents paid him $2000 per day to keep hold of her, keep her out of their way for good. They had sent him a very angry letter when they found out that she had escaped and provided him with the address for the Pad so that Lord Reynolds could take her back.

They had originally paid him $10,000 to kidnap her, then continued to send money over as a sort of wage for keeping the daughter locked away. They had needed her gone, and fast. They had never really liked her much, any of the family, she’d never done anything wrong but they just despised her, and the opportunity arose for her to mysteriously disappear and so they took it with the promise of her never walking free and them never having to see her again.

After having kidnapped Y/N, Lord Reynolds’ adrenaline had made him want to take someone else, he had enjoyed kidnapping Y/N even though that had been planned. She hadn’t been too easy to take though. He was never able to find an easy target to take as a second victim, but when he saw Peter at the shop, he knew that he was a perfect victim, he didn’t appear to have a lot of common sense and so he looked easy to take. So he did take the bassist. He had half known who Peter was as he had seen some of their performances around a few pubs and a local park and so he knew he could hurt people by taking him. He had to admit, he admired Y/N for protecting Peter, a complete stranger, but that was beside the point. The point was, that he was in a lot of trouble for letting Y/N get away, and he was losing income for holding and torturing her. 

---

Three hours later, the four Monkees arrived back at the Pad, they brought in all their instruments and chatted amongst themselves about how well their gig had gone and the fact they had been booked back for the following week. They had just placed their instruments down on the bandstand when a knock sounded at the door.

They all looked at each other in confusion before Mike headed over to the door and looked through the peephole. “It’s Babbit?” Mike opened the door to their landlord.

“Boys, I know it’s really late and I do apologise, I just wanted to come and check on you all. Make sure you’re all safe.” Mr Babbit says.

“Safe? Why wouldn’t we be safe?” Davy asked from the sofa.

“There was a man here earlier who tried to break in, he said that you had a girl or something that he needed to take back from you four. I told him that I didn’t think he needed her back and that you don’t act without reason. Anyway, I threatened to call the police on him, but he paid me ten thousand dollars and I told him that if he came back, I would ring the police and hand him in. Let me know if he causes you any issues. The ten thousand will be used to cover your rent for the next two years. The least I can do. Just, be safe, okay?” Mr Babbit rambled, all four of the Monkees’ faces paled as their landlord explained to them the events of earlier that evening. “Anyway, I’ll be off now. Stay safe.”

“Thank you, Sir. For both the rent situation as well as informing us about the person trying to get in. Goodnight.” Micky called as Mike shut the door behind Mr Babbit.

“Was Mr Babbit just nice to us?” Davy looked up in utter disbelief, no one got a chance to answer as Peter stood up from his seat on the sofa and ran halfway across the room to check on Y/N.

“Come on guys, we have to check on Y/N. Who else would have tried to break into our house other than Lord Reynolds?” Peter yelled as he knocked on Y/N’s door, he opened it straight away without waiting for an answer, he was too anxious to wait for her to respond to him. He needed to know if she was okay.

Peter found that Y/N was still lying in her bed, fast asleep. He let out a relieved sigh as he focused on the girl.

“Hey Peter, you good babe?” Micky asked, resting a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder as a means of comfort, Peter nodded before sitting down at the edge of Y/N’s bed and moved his leant over her, he moved some hair out of the way before stroking her face gently. She stirred at his actions and slowly opened her eyes.

“Pete?” Y/N yawned.

“You’re okay.” Peter smiled at her happily and pulled her into a tight hug, Y/N looked up at the other three boys behind Peter and they all offered her small smiles.

“Of course I’m okay, are you okay? How was your gig?” Y/N asked, moving over so Peter could sit next to her, Mike, Micky and Davy all sat on the end of the bed where Peter had previously been sat.

“Our gig was great, it was fine. Y/N, we came back and our landlord told us that Lord Reynolds came and tried to break in so that he could take you away.” Peter said softly, Y/N’s face fell. “I’m glad you’re here and alright though. Have you slept the entire time?”

“I did sleep the whole time you were gone, yes. Thank God he didn’t manage to get in, I can’t imagine being back there, I don’t want to imagine it.” Y/N shivered. 

“We’d have come for you again.” Micky assured Y/N who smiled at him gratefully.

“Mr Babbit said that if he comes back, he’ll ring the police on him for us. He charged him a lot of money which means we don’t have to pay the rent for two years. But as long as you’re safe and not back there, then I don’t care what happens.” Peter ran a hand through her hair, comforting the girl who was pulling bits of her skin off of her fingertips from the anxiety and thoughts of the fact she was nearly kidnapped again.

“Your landlord sounds nice.” Y/N said innocently, the four boys held back a laugh and nodded in agreement with her.

“Hey Y/N would you like to come and sleep in my bed tonight, so you’re safe?” Peter suggested, his question of course was innocent, but his bandmates knew he was trying to find an excuse to spend more time with her as well as getting to be close to her.

“If that’s okay? I’d definitely feel safer.” Mike, Micky, and Davy held back a smirk, they also knew that she was happy to find an excuse to be close to Peter.

Peter helped Y/N up and they made their way up to Peter and Davy’s bedroom, Peter quickly got changed and then the pair of them climbed into his bed. Peter lay on one side and Y/N was laying up against him, her head was resting on his chest as was one of her arms, both of Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. They were both soon asleep.

Meanwhile downstairs, Mike and Micky were saying their goodnights to Davy and ensuring that their door was properly locked.

“Them two are ridiculous, they were both clearly looking for an excuse to spend time together and have physical contact but they’re both oblivious to the fact the other likes them back and they’re both too shy to admit it to each other!” Micky sighed, completely exasperated. 

“I know! It’s frustrating!” Davy agreed with Micky. Mike just rolled his eyes.

“Good night guys.” Mike said, he was desperate for his bed after the gig, his feet were killing him and he just wanted to sleep. Micky and Davy soon followed.

Davy reached his room and smiled at the sight of Peter and Y/N asleep, Peter was holding Y/N protectively, he was keeping her safe from the whole world.

“Please sort your shit out and get together.” Davy mumbled, flicking the light out and settling down in his own bed.

[evilasiangenius]

“Angel, the edge of your clothes are scorched and tattered. You’re looking rather shabby,” Asmodeus said as the tall angel with the good cheekbones strolled past him.

“Oh?” The angel stopped, a faint smile upon amused lips, and there was a certain playfulness to that expression that Asmodeus found charming. Looking down, the angel brought up the plain hem of the white robes up to scrutinize the damage, briefly baring long slender legs before dropping the cloth nonchalantly. “Yeeeaaah, that happens. Eh, it’s fine, fine. I work on nebulae. Nebulas. Whatever. It gets hot out there (except when it’s not and it’s super cold) and these are forever fraying and getting these tiny pinpoint holes burnt in them. Ha, do I smell like burning stars? I probably do, can’t be helped when you’re helping along the process of birthing stars.”

“Not particularly, no. You don’t smell much like anything. But if you like, I can mend the edge of your robes. They’re quite tattered. Though the more closely I look, the more I notice that your clothes are dusted all over with stardust. Shouldn’t you be decontaminating when you come off a shift?”

The tall angel looked down, at the faint sheen of iridescence that clung to the surface of the long white robes.

“Oh, I did just get off a shift but I never noticed the dust. Is that supposed to happen?”

“There should be a training about decontamination,” Asmodeus sighed, adding that and a training on professional attire to a long mental list of things he would bring up in the next management meeting.

“It’s fine, can’t help getting dusty when you’re working with big clouds of the stuff. At least I’m not covered in hydrogen. But you’re right, ha! Thanks for the offer on fixing the robes but it’s no big deal, you don’t need to bother with me. I fix them all the time before any serious meetings, and it just gets burnt up again once I get too close to a star and I’m forever getting too close to stars.”

“There should also be a training on proper safety working near stars…wait,” Asmodeus paused, remembering what he had meant to ask about and focusing on that. “I see you know Lucifer?”

“Yeah, he’s my manager. Well, not my direct manager but you know…” the tall angel pointed up. “Top manager of our division. Er, the executive of our division. Lots and lots – and I mean lots of tiers between me and him, but he’s friendly enough to say hi to all of his people. Not all Archangels are like that. Most of them are…”

“...distant?” Asmodeus suggested, providing the angel a safe, diplomatic answer.

“Yeah, that’s the polite word for it,” the tall angel said, with an intriguing quirk of amused lips. “Distant. But you know, I’m glad to work for Lucifer. He’s easy to work for and pretty relaxed for someone who’s got such a high position, even for an Archangel. Seraphim. Chayot Ha Kodesh. Whatever they’re being called these days. Wait, have I seen you around before?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think I have seen you around either. Though that’s not surprising, there are quite a few of us. Far too many to know everyone.”

“Hey, so who do you work for?”

“Asmodeus,” Asmodeus said, neither lying nor telling the truth exactly.

“Oh, hmm. Must be nice, I hear he’s gentle. Doesn’t write up anyone, no matter how bad they mess up or how much they deserve it. I hear he always takes responsibility himself.”

“I suppose?” Asmodeus shrugged, feeling a peculiar pang of some unspoken feeling at being described as gentle. “What’s going on with your manager?”

“Huh? You mean my direct manager or-”

“I’ve heard rumors that some people associated with Lucifer want to make a complaint to Upstairs,” Asmodeus said, “and I thought I’d see if it was a true rumor.”

“Of course it’s a true rumor. I mean, we’re all angels, right?” The tall angel chuckled. “Anyway, you’d have to ask Lucifer or Beelzebub or...actually I don’t remember everyone who was talking about this. Some others, I guess? Those are the two highest up ones I know involved. They might be the only ones? There could be others? I don’t know them all, it doesn’t have much to do with me. I just know them through work. And I guess, socially, a little, though that’s still technically through work.”

“Not everyone is very happy these days,” Asmodeus said. “After all, even you’re getting dusty and scorched.”

“Yeah, well. Health and Safety hasn’t been that all that great. Not sure why. More than just Health and Safety though. Lots of other things where corners are being cut and resources are being diverted. That’s just part of the problem. And you know what?” the tall angel leaned in, voice lowered into a whisper. “To be honest, I’m not super fond of some of these new changes. Individuality. It’s weird. Feels weird to be in this, erm...what do they call it again?”

“Body,” Asmodeus said, as if he were not intimately familiar, as if he had no expertise with bodies, their construction, their functions...

“Yeah, this. This thing,” the tall angel gestured, pointing to various features: an elbow, a hip, the point of a shoulder. “Why do I look like this? Is this what I want to look like? I suppose someone would call it a preferred shape, but did I really prefer this shape? How would I have known to be this shape if I wasn’t...erm, poured into it? I’m me-shaped, and you’re you-shaped, and everyone else is everyone-else-shaped but how do I know that this is the shape that I want to be? Is everyone else in the shape they want to be? Or are they just in their own shapes because they are? Maybe I want to be another shape? Could I change that? And I don’t mean the way we can change sizes and such, I mean when we revert back to a default, could my default be different? A default I chose, instead of the default I was given? This hair and these arms? The color and the size? And legs – ah, don’t get me started on legs, they’re so strange and wobbly. Moving around with a body is like controlled falling and I feel like I’m constantly falling. Oh, and all these moving parts just get in the way when you’re trying to set stardust in the right place or big clouds of ionized hydrogen. Way easier to do these things without bodies, I didn’t always need to worry about burning my fingers or scorching the hem of my clothes on a newborn star.”

x

[simthorium]

Shooting for the film was halfway over, and Shea found herself enjoying every moment of it. Sarah was a great scene partner, and the two had a lot of fun together. She was starting to get sad the film was almost finished, but was looking forward to seeing the final product. The next day of shooting, the two showed up ready to get in the water.

Astrid squirted sunscreen in her hands and smoothed it all over her body. Jessie raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s a little late for that,” said Jessie. “We’ve been stranded out in the sun for days, it’s a miracle we haven’t burnt up yet.” “It’s not sunscreen, it’s tanning oil,” said Astrid. “Might as well make the most of the worst vacation ever.”

Astrid laid out on the sand, seriously about to tan. Jessie couldn’t help but laugh as she stood up. “I’m gonna go swimming, if you’d like to join,” said Jessie. “No thanks,” said Astrid.

Jessie was enjoying herself in the ocean, finally able to relax. Just as she started to feel serene, she felt a splash from behind her. “Marco!” Astrid shouted, splashing around with her eyes closed. “No fair, you saw exactly where I was!” Jessie laughed, joining the game.

Every afternoon, Jessie focused on fixing the communication device inside the cockpit. It seemed like a fruitless effort, but it was her only plan for rescue at this point. She hopped in the cockpit as usual, reaching through the wires and technology to resume her work from yesterday. Only, this time something was different. She felt around for a battery pack she’d seen yesterday but--it was gone.

Jessie spent upwards of an hour looking for the battery, starting to feel panicked. It was their one shot at getting saved; what had she done with it. The sun was setting and Astrid walked up to her, no doubt wanting to engage her in a stupid conversation about something. Jessie looked up to see Astrid plunking away on her phone...her working phone. Hadn’t their phones died days ago. Jessie stared at her as she put two and two together. “What the hell are you doing?” Jessie asked. “Playing Candy Crush,” said Astrid. “Everything on this island is so boring, gotta keep my spirits up somehow.”

“Did you take my battery pack?” Jessie asked, rushing up to her. “The charger? Yeah, I figured you weren’t using it,” said Astrid. Jessie felt like she was going to explode. “What the hell is wrong with you!?” she exclaimed. She snatched the phone and pack from Astrid’s hands, inspecting it. “It’s on red, Astrid!” “Am I supposed to know what that means?” she asked.

“This isn’t a phone charger, you idiot!” Jessie shouted. “It’s a battery pack for the plane comms! You know, the one thing on this stupid island that was gonna save us?” “How was I supposed to know that?!” Astrid said. “You should know not to touch stuff that’s not yours!” Jessie shouted. “You’re the one that said this isn’t my fault, you can���t just blame me!”

“It is your fault!” Jessie bellowed. “It’s ALL your fault! I didn’t want to fly you to the stupid fashion show to begin with, but your mother is the one who begged me to do it, like she’s always begging me to do things for you! I didn’t have a choice, but you did! But you’re too weak to do stand up for yourself, so we had to fly through a damn hurricane to your fashion show. And you’re too stupid to know that not everything is meant for you, so now we have no way of communicating with air control, so we’re stuck here forever!” Astrid stood, stunned as Jessie’s chest heaved from shouting so much. She blinked back tears, not sure what to say next. Jessie looked like she regretted the words as soon as she’d finished screaming them.

“FINE!” Astrid shouted, tears finally spilling out of her eyes. “If you hate me so much, why didn’t you just say that!” Astrid started packing up her stuff. “What are you doing?” Jessie asked. “Leaving! That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Astrid said. “I’ll take my stuff and head to the other side of the island. We’ll never have to see each other again.” “Astrid, no, please,” Jessie said. But Astrid had already packed everything up and was storming off into the jungle.

Astrid cried and wiped tears from her eyes as she walked through the jungle. It was much harder this time, now that is was dark. She didn’t care, though. She hurt too much from Jessie’s words, knowing she was completely right. She felt like a fool, and couldn’t bare to look at Jessie any longer.

[mirimage]

Aha I am not doing great rn long post ahead

I feel like ‘not great’ is an understatement lmao. Idk where even to begin.

I’m so exhausted all the time and unbelievably burnt out, but I can’t do anything about it because I have to keep going to work. And even if I could take a break or quit, would it even fix the problem? At this point I don’t know what it would take to feel okay again. I keep not being able to force myself to go to work and idk how much longer I’m gonna be able to keep a job before they fire me or I have to quit myself.

I’ve been trying to find a medication that actually does something for like two years now. I’m on the 6th combination and none of them have done a thing. At some point I’m gonna run out of stuff to try, and then what am I supposed to do? I’ve been basically banking my entire future on finding something that’ll make me be able to function.

My food issues are acting up because of the new house, my friends’ food choices do not blend well with me as well as them wanting to stick to a strict budget (which also annoys me because I’m the one earning the least in the house, why are they worrying about it.) I just end up not eating/eating very little instead of something they’ve made half the time, and eating way too many snacks.

I’m not sleeping enough because if I go to sleep it’ll be the next day and I’ll probably have to go to work, and night is the only time I can just relax and do my own stuff without worrying about anything else. I keep not showering for days in end because it’s just too much effort and makes me anxious, keep forgetting to do household stuff for the same reason and I feel like it’s only so long until my friends get sick of me.

I’ve been realising that I don’t really have many friends in the first place. I’ve barely talked to the person who I would have called my best friend for like months. She cancelled on an event we had planned for over a year the month before, as well as the past 2-3 times we’ve tried to meet up. I’d still consider her a friend, but to be honest we haven’t been best friends for at least a year. My partner is now my ex partner, we’ve talked once since we broke up and it ended extremely badly. He left our friends group chat today, he said he wanted to stay friends but I don’t know if that’s gonna happen. I have my housemates I guess, but even though I love them we really aren’t the same kind of people and I feel like they don’t understand anything about my life and who I am. We don’t really share any interests so I can’t talk to them about stuff I like.

Because of all that i feel so goddamn attention starved and just like desperate any kind of interaction. I’m a very clingy person but I don’t really know how to express it, which was fine when I had a partner to focus it all on but now there’s no one and all I want is to curl up with someone and take a nap. I just want a hug. I feel like this is being enhanced by my current fandom having fics that are literally exactly what I want. I like reading them because they’re so good but it fucking hurts because I know I’ll likely never get it.

I feel like I’m more myself online these days than in person. I don’t know if anyone in my offline life that actually knows who I am anymore. I just want someone to understand.

If you actually read this far then thanks I guess, I’ll be okay I promise.