The blue light from your laptop screen was practically burning into your eyes. You had been staring at the same spreadsheet for the past three hours, and your fingers were cramping from typing so much. Working from home sounded like a dream until you actually had to do it—especially when you had a literal werewolf for a boyfriend who didn’t understand the concept of "office hours."
A heavy, warm weight suddenly dropped onto your thighs. You blinked, looking down to see a mop of messy, dark hair buried right against your lap. Valko had wiggled his way between your desk and your chair, resting his chin flat on your knees while looking up at you with huge, golden eyes.
"Baby, are you done now?" he mumbled, his voice deep and raspy, vibrating right through your jeans.
You sighed, running a hand through his incredibly soft hair out of pure habit. "Not yet, 'Ko. I have to finish this report by five or my boss is going to kill me."
"But you've been staring at that laptop all day," he whined, burying his face deeper into your stomach. His broad shoulders slouched, making him look way smaller than he actually was. If anyone from EonCore Tech saw their powerful Chairman acting like this, they would probably faint from shock. Right now, he didn't look like a fierce alpha wolf at all. He looked like an oversized puppy who had been left out in the rain.
"I know, I know. Just give me twenty more minutes, okay?" You tapped his nose playfully, then forced your hands back onto the keyboard.
"..."
"..."
Valko stayed totally still for about thirty seconds. Then, you felt a rhythmic thumping against the leg of your desk. You peeked over the edge. His tail was wagging, thumping heavily against the wood, completely betraying how restless he was.
He shifted, resting his cheek on your knee so he could watch your face. "..Are you done now?"
"Valko, it’s been one minute," you laughed, trying so hard to stay focused on the numbers on your screen.
"It felt like an hour," he huffed. He reached up, his large, calloused hand gripping your wrist gently but firmly. He didn't pull you away, but he held it there, rubbing his thumb over your skin just to feel your pulse. When you didn't immediately stop typing with your other hand, he let out a tiny, pathetic whine from the back of his throat. It was the exact sound a puppy makes when it wants a treat, and it was your absolute kryptonite.
"You're terrible," you muttered, looking away from the screen to face him fully. "You know I can't resist that."
Valko’s eyes lit up instantly. Seeing that he finally had your full attention, he scrambled up from the floor. For a guy who was built like a brick wall and could probably flip a car, he moved with a crazy amount of eager energy. Before you could even protest, he squeezed himself onto the office chair with you. The poor chair groaned under the sudden weight, and you were forced to sit right on his lap, your back pressed against his solid chest.
"Much better," Valko purred, his strong arms wrapping around your waist like a human seatbelt. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. He let out a long, contented sigh, his whole body relaxing against yours. "You smell like coffee. You need to smell like me again."
"Is that why you've been stalking me all afternoon? To scent me?" you teased, leaning your head back against his shoulder. His skin was always naturally warm, acting like a giant, cozy heating pad.
"Maybe," he murmured, his sharp teeth lightly grazing your collarbone in a gentle, non-threatening nip. "You're mine. The desk doesn't own you. The laptop doesn't own you. I do."
"I belong to my landlord if I don't pay rent, 'Ko," you pointed out, though you couldn't help but smile. You reached back, cup-ping his jaw and turning your head to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Valko immediately leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as a low, rumbling purr vibrated through his chest. It was a sound he only ever made around you, a total secret kept safe from the rest of the world.
For a few minutes, it was actually quiet. You managed to type out two whole sentences, thinking he had finally settled down. His breathing slowed, and his grip around your waist loosened just a little bit. You thought he was falling asleep.
But then, you moved your hand to grab your mouse. The sudden movement caught his attention. One of his ears twitched, and his golden eyes snapped open. He stared at your hand on the mouse, his instincts taking over. Before you could click on the next spreadsheet tab, Valko slapped his huge hand right over yours, pinning it to the desk.
"No more," he grumbled, his voice dropping an octave. "My turn now."
"Valko, please, just five more minutes—"
"No." He didn't even hesitate. With total ease, he lifted you right out of the office chair, scooping you up into a bridal carry. You gasped, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck so you wouldn't fall, even though you knew he would never drop you.
"Valko! Put me down!" you yelled, though you were laughing too hard for it to sound serious.
He completely ignored you, turning on his heel and marching straight out of the home office and down the hallway. "We are going to the couch. We are going to watch a movie. And you are going to pet my hair until I fall asleep."
"You are so incredibly spoiled," you sighed, letting your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady, rapid thud of his heartbeat.
"Only by you," he said, a smug, boyish grin spreading across his face. He looked down at you, his eyes brimming with so much affection and raw devotion that it made your chest ache.
As he dumped you gently onto the soft cushions of the living room couch and immediately pinned you down by laying his entire upper body across you, you realized the spreadsheet was definitely going to have to wait until tomorrow.
A/N: I feel like a mourning wife right now bro. He never even get released and get to experience life with MC ಥ_ಥ
@akira-dragon-archive do not plagiarize, edit or feed any of my works into any ai platforms.
Cw: Oral. Brat tamer Zayne. P in V. Dirty talk. 🔞MDNI🔞
A Protocore takes you and Zayne two years into the future, where future Zayne's behavior leaves present day Zayne silently reevaluating his entire existence from inside a very small closet.
Caleb here Xavier here Sylus here
"Yvonne. I'm begging you. Move it to Thursday."
"Your appointment was twenty minutes ago"
You were leaning over the reception desk, whispering while your eyes kept cutting to the main hallway.
"I know! I had a mission." You took a small step sideways, positioning yourself between her and the hall. Just in case. "A successful one. Very successful. But something came up and I need to drop something off at the Association right now."
Your hand pressed against your pocket. The Protocore was still there, solid and cold through the fabric. A white one. Pulled from a Wanderer less than an hour ago, which meant you were standing in the middle of Akso Hospital smelling like smoke and looking like a mess.
"Look. I'm ok, I don't need this appointment, when I get home, I ice whatever needs icing and I'll come back Thursday looking normal and healthy and I'll let him do his little checkup and everyone goes home happy." You pressed both palms flat on the desk. "Nobody has to know I came in today."
Yvonne folded her hands on top of her keyboard. "And if he asks why you cancelled?"
"Tell him I'm—" You paused. "Tell him I have food poisoning."
Yvonne's expression changed.
"I can't let him see me today"
"And why is that?"
"Because." You shifted your weight and immediately regretted it, a dull throb moving through your left side but you kept your face neutral. "He's going to look at me and know."
"Know what?"
"That I'm slightly—" you tilted your hand back and forth "bruised."
Yvonne's eyes moved to the tear in your sleeve.
"It's fine," you said. "I'm fine. I can still move around and I'm not bleeding from anything important. If Zayne finds out he's going to do the thing." You straightened slightly and squared your shoulders, dropping your voice into a flat imitation of his. "'This is not a minor concern. Your body is not a tactical asset you can simply override with willpower. Sit down and don't argue with me.'" You let your face go back to normal. "And then the staring. Yvonne, you know about the staring."
Yvonne pressed her lips together and very slowly raised one manicured finger to point it over her left shoulder.
You frowned. "Don't try to redirect me—"
She gave you a look. Wide eyes, like something was happening behind her that she could see and you could not.
"Why are you making that face," you asked "Are you okay? Is something wrong with your neck?"
Yvonne covered her mouth with a manila folder.
A chair in the corner moved.
It rotated slowly on its base. Dr. Zayne had a tablet on his knee. Coat perfect. Hair perfect. Expression completely neutral.
He looked at you.
You looked at him.
"That was a fairly good impression," his voice was exactly as low and measured as yours had been when you were doing it. The similarity was hideous. "But I don't rush my sentences."
Yvonne made a noise behind the folder that she converted, poorly, into a cough.
"Dr. Zayne." Your voice came out very small. "How long have you—"
"You are twenty three minutes," he said.
You looked at your watch, trying to avoid his stare "My watch says twenty one."
"Your watch is wrong." he stood and looked at you the way you'd been specifically trying to avoid being looked at, unhurried, starting at your torn sleeve and then back up to your face without any change in expression.
"You mentioned a mission"
"Yeah"
The folder was covering Yvonne's entire face now. Her shoulders were shaking.
He turned and started down the hallway toward his office at a pace that expected to be followed. "Since you're already here," he said, not looking back, "leaving would be wasteful."
"I have somewhere to b—."
"Yes and you are already 24 minutes late."
He didn't check over his shoulder. He simply walked, because the possibility that you wouldn't follow had apparently not entered his mind as something worth considering.
You stood there for a moment. The exit doors were fifteen feet to your left. Glass. Automatic. You'd be through them in four seconds.
You thought about what happened last time you ran. He'd shown up at your apartment forty minutes later with a medical bag.
Yvonne lowered the folder from her face. Her eyes were wet from the effort of not laughing. She mouthed something at you that looked like I tried.
You pointed at her and she gave you a small, apologetic wave before you followed Zayne down the hall. "You could at least slow down," you called after him.
"You could have been on time," Zayne said, without breaking stride.
Yvonne's laughter followed you all the way to his office door.
------
Today the silence in Zayne's office was not peaceful. In the Association's building it was always loud, always some radio crackling, some door slamming, someone having a crisis in the corridor and normally Zayne's office functioned as a kind of sensory decompression chamber. White walls. Clean air.
Today it felt like a holding cell.
You sat on the edge of the exam table and the paper underneath you crinkled every time you moved, which was constantly because you were not capable of sitting still when your face was this hot. You had tried, approximately forty seconds of total stillness before your left knee started bouncing. Your cheeks felt warm and that meant they were the color of something embarrassing.
Getting caught did that to you.
Getting caught specifically in the middle of mocking the way Zayne talked and telling Yvonne about his terrifying doctor stare.
He had his back to you. You had known him long enough to know that the silence didn't necessarily mean anger.
He turned around. Stethoscope already hanging around his neck "Deep breath"
You inhaled so fast it was almost a gasp and the metal of the stethoscope hit your skin. Cold. It was always cold. Years of checkups and you had never once successfully braced for the temperature.
Upper left. Upper right. You tracked the movement of the chest piece. Clinical. Impersonal. You were a patient, he was a doctor and this was a routine checkup and not in any way the specific recurring experience that had convinced you it might be safer for your general wellbeing to simply never be examined by Zayne again.
"Your heart rate is elevated."
Obviously.
The top button of his shirt was getting very familiar. Dark navy. Very professional. "It's just... adrenaline from the mission."
He made a sound. You did not look up.
Penlight next—he checked your pupils, which meant he was close again, you dealt with it by focusing very hard on the anatomical chart of the circulatory system on the wall behind him. You had extensive, unwanted knowledge of that chart at this point.
"Reflexes are fine." He moved to his tablet. "Lungs are clear. Aside from the laceration on your sleeve and your ongoing commitment to arriving late, you appear intact."
"Wonderful." You were already moving "Great news. Really good appointment, always a pleasure, I'll just—"
His hand appeared and he placed his palm against your upper arm—barely any pressure—and pushed you back onto the table. Your spine went straight and you looked up at him.
His brows were drawn in slightly when he set his tablet on the rolling tray.
"Do I make you uncomfortable?"
The question landed so far outside your expected conversational territory that your brain rejected it for a moment. "What?"
In the years you had known him, if you counted childhood, you had never heard him phrase something as though he was uncertain of the answer. Uncertain was the wrong word too. Zayne was never uncertain. But something under that question had an edge you couldn't name.
"I reviewed your appointment history," he continued, and your stomach did a slow drop because you knew where this was going and there was no good exit. "Over the last six months you've attempted to reschedule or cancel your routine checkups more than any other patient under my care."
"I've been really busy—"
"If my manner as a physician is— if the history between us makes it difficult to have a professional doctor-patient relationship I can make some arrangements. Dr. Hale handles several Hunter Association cases. She's thorough. Given your condition, I would need to remain as your cardiologist, which means you'd still see me on a reduced basis, but your primary care wouldn't—" something behind his eyes changed. "You wouldn't have to find reasons to avoid it."
"Zayne, stop."
You had never heard him ramble before.
"You're not making me uncomfortable." The words came out faster than you meant them to. "I don't want Dr. Hale. I don't want to be transferred to anyone." You looked for somewhere to rest your eyes and found nothing that worked. "Can we just— can we not do this right now?"
"You were negotiating with Yvonne to have your name removed from my schedule."
"I know what I was doing."
"Then explain it." he held your gaze, looking for a lie.
The honest answer was "because you make me feel like my ribcage is a bad fit for everything inside it, and I think your stethoscope is going to eventually give you evidence of something I have been working very hard to hide"
What you said was "Because of this."
You reached into your pocket and pulled out the Protocore. Held it up between you. It sat in your palm, throwing off a strange light.
"Look."
Zayne's gaze dropped toward your hand and you became acutely aware of how close he was standing. His shoulders blocked the rest of the room. If you inhaled you would be breathing air that had just come from him.
You could see the shadows under his eyes. He'd probably worked late again. The small shift in his expression wasn't something you could have described to anyone else. Just a slight draw of his brows and a tilt of his head that changed the light across his eyes.
"I've never seen one in this color." He extended one hand, long fingers open. "May I?"
"Yeah"
His fingertips touched the protocore.
But they touched your palm too—the side of your hand, just the briefest contact before the sound arrived. Not through your ears. Directly inside your skull, high and sharp and then the air was simply gone. Your lungs understood immediately that there was nothing to breathe and reacted accordingly in a moment of absolute panic before the wind hit.
A vacuum, pulling from every direction at once, until the ground disappeared and you hit something in a dull impact that rattled every thought out of your head.
You lay there for a moment and let your sense of direction reconstruct itself piece by piece.
Zayne was already on his knees beside you "Are you alright? Did you hit your head?"
"Fine," you tried to sound fine. "I'm fine. What happened—did it explode?"
"No." He stood and pulled you up in one clean motion "The room is intact, but—"
You looked up from the elbow you'd scraped on the way down, and looked around.
It was his office but the light was different. The clean white fluorescents were off, replaced by the warm amber glow of a single desk lamp. The air felt different too. Warmer.
There was a plant on the windowsill. A real one. Green and clearly watered with intention and care. In a space where Zayne usually kept a strict anti allergen policy.
His office felt wrong.
On his desk there was a picture frame. You leaned down to look.
It was a garden in winter, stone paths, bare trees, frost on the ground. Zayne was in a dark wool coat you'd never seen, a gray scarf loose around his neck, looking at the camera with a smile on his face. A real smile. One you had seen once or twice over the past few months.
You were in the picture too. Standing on your toes. Your arm looped around his neck, mouth pressed to his cheek.
You straightened up. You had no coherent thoughts. The inside of your head was filled with white noise, like a radio station that had lost its signal.
"Look at this."
Zayne was by the coffee table, staring down at something.
You went to him on autopilot. He was pointing at a newspaper, his finger rested on the top right corner.
"That's two years from now."
"Yes."
"Zayne," you panicked. "What do we do? How did this—"
Footsteps in the hallway. Two people, maybe three. Coming closer, not going away.
"My future self," he explained, "could walk through that door any minute."
He moved. Across the room in a few long strides, your wrist in his hand before you'd felt him reaching for you. He pulled you toward a tall wooden closet in the corner, pushed the door open with his shoulder and guided you inside, then he stepped in after you and drew the door shut.
The closet had not been designed for two people.
It had been designed for lab coats and medical encyclopedias. You pressed back into the hanging fabrics to give him room.
"Stop moving" he whispered.
"I'm sorry" you whispered back.
"The protocore," he said, dragging you back to the problem "We need it to go back"
"I don't know where it is"
He tilted his head toward the gap in the door and the motion brought his face closer to yours "I see it. Near the left leg of the desk."
"I'll go," you breathed. "Quick. In and out. He—you—whoever is in the hallway won't even—"
Your hand was already reaching for the door when his fingers closed around your wrist and brought your arm back.
"No"
"Zayne—"
"Listen."
The office door opened and footsteps moved through the office.
Future Zayne came in first.
He was the same but he looked like he hadn't slept in days, dark circles pressed deep beneath his eyes. He was holding himself together. Just barely, and visibly.
Behind him, softer footsteps followed. You.
She crossed to the window without rushing and stood there with her hands loosely clasped, watching him. Waiting.
"I was worried about you and you didn't care."
She said nothing.
"You were supposed to be gone a few days." He moved to his desk "I understand the mission was classified. I understand you couldn't give me details but you don't get to lie to me about your health."
He reached up and pulled his coat open, then pushed both hands through his hair "I've lost count of how many times I've been close to losing you. I'm trying my best to protect you and I can't... not when you're the one I'm fighting against." He exhaled, slow. "You have no idea what that does to me."
She crossed the room slowly and sat beside him on the edge of the desk, close enough that their arms touched. She reached over and covered his hand with hers before he turned his head and looked at her for a long moment.
Your throat tightened and he took her face in his hands to kiss her.
Inside the closet, Zayne's grip around your wrist went tight enough to hurt.
Outside, Zayne pulled back just enough to breathe and then went back in, slower this time, one hand sliding to the back of her neck. His coat came off. Hers followed, dropped onto the floor of his pristine office.
He moved behind her, his mouth finding the side of her neck, both arms wrapped around her.
"I missed you." Rough at the edges. Almost unrecognizable. "I've been going out of my mind for weeks."
His hands moved, her shirt came down off one shoulder, her bra with it and his fingers found her hard nipple and pinched , her head dropped back against his shoulder with a sharp hiss.
Beside you Zayne was losing his fucking mind. He turned his head away from them and his eyes found you instead.
The sounds outside filled the silence between you, her breath catching, his low exhales against her skin. Zayne was trapped between watching his future self handle you like a starving man or staring directly into your eyes while listening to the filthy moans leaving her lips outside.
You were completely speechless. Your mouth parted to say something—anything—but no sound came out. Your face felt like it was on fire.
"You have to stay quiet," Zayne murmured against her ear, his thumb moving in slow circles around her nipple. "Can you do that?"
Her answer came out soft and shameless"Yeah"
"Can you take your punishment like a good girl?" Another low murmur. His hand moved to her hip. "I'll reward you if you behave."
Present Zayne closed his eyes.
"Here?" she asked.
Future Zayne made a sound low in his chest. "I can't wait."
The Zayne squeezed beside you stopped moving. His face was flushed so red it looked ready to explode, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck were standing out like steel cables.
She turned around and sank to her knees in front of him. She reached up, slowly pulling down his zipper to let his thick, fully erect cock spring free.
The sound that left present Zayne was barely audible —a short, compressed exhale, like all the air had been taken from him at once. His free hand went to the wall beside him.
"Zayne," you whispered. "you have to breathe."
You grabbed his hand on your wrist —before he could do something catastrophic —and pressed your fingers through his. He held on.
"Do I need to fuck the brat out of you again?" future Zayne's voice sent a wave of dizziness straight to your head.
"Mmm..." she hummed against his bare flesh. She didn't argue. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss right to the weeping tip of his cock, before sliding her lips down and taking him deep into her throat.
He reached down and fisted her hair with a grip so firm and aggressive it looked painful, forcing her to take him all the way to the base. She made a choked, muffled sound around his cock and your eyes fluttered shut.
"Are you sure about that?" he growled down at her.
He began to fuck her throat, hips rolling forward as he took complete control of her mouth. The wet, filthy sounds of her choking, swallowing, and taking every inch of him filled the office.
"This is a serious violation," present Zayne started, barely a whisper "Of medical protocol. Multiple protocols. I am — this is gross misconduct. If the board—"
"Zayne—"
"I don't speak to patients like that." his eyes were fixed on the ceiling of the closet. "I am an attending physician. I do not use that kind of language. I do not call patients—"
"Zayne. Stop talking."
He couldn't stop. But despite his horrified, clinical rambling and the deep blush radiating through his skin, you couldn't help but notice the prominent tent straining against the front of his trousers.
"Good fucking girl" future Zayne praised her as he petted her hair while ruining her mouth. "Taking it so well for me... such a sweet, obedient little mouth..."
Every word of filthy praise made present Zayne flinch. The heat coming off him had nowhere to go. Neither did yours. You were both standing in it, hands locked together, not looking at each other, listening to every sound from the other side of the door.
Zayne kept the same deep rhythm, she had tears running down her face but not from distress because her hands were still gripping his thighs like she was holding on by choice.
He reached down with his thumb and wiped one away. Carefully. Gently. Like he was checking on a patient.
While doing what he was doing.
The contrast was so specifically him that you almost laughed. You didn't. Mostly because of what he said next.
"Look at you. Are you going to behave from now on or do you want me to collect every one of these—" his thumb dragged beneath her eye again, "and use them—fuck—to stroke myself in front of you next time you decide to be difficult."
You became aware of several things simultaneously. The heat moving to your pussy. The fact that your teeth were in your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The motionless presence of Zayne against your shoulder.
You did not look at him this time. You were not going to look at him.
"I —" His voice came out hot against the side of your neck. "That is — the use of lacrimal fluid — I would never —"
"Jesus " you whispered.
"He's threatening to use ocular secretions as —" his brain was clearly trying to cope with what he'd just heard.
Outside, she was nodding. Enthusiastically.
Something against your hip moved. You were both pretending it wasn't there but that pretense was getting less convincing by the minute.
Future Zayne pulled out of her mouth slowly. "Up"
He got his hands under her arms and pulled her to her feet "Let's see," his hands moved to the hem of her skirt "if you're as desperate here."
Patterns of frost trail from Zayne's hand and then dissolve against the heat of his skin.
"He's going to—"
"Yes."
"On the desk."
"Yes."
"My desk."
He pushed the skirt up to her waist, his thumb dragged up her inner thigh and stopped half an inch from where she needed it and then said, very quietly, "There she is, my pretty needy pussy"
He worked her open with his fingers, watching her face the whole time. "Tell me what this is"
"Zaynie—"
"Use your words."
"It's yours, It's—please—it's yours—"
"It's mine," he agreed. "And it doesn't go four weeks without me because you decided to be a brat. Understood?"
"Yes—god—yes—"
"Good." He pulled his fingers back and she made an absolutely destroyed noise. "Then ask me properly."
"Please, Zayne. I need you to fuck me. Please."
He looked at her for one more second and then pushed inside.
One deep thrust that drove all the air out of her lungs and moved his desk two inches.
"Four weeks," he said again, each word landing with a thrust.
She was past words, only making sounds.
"This is what you get when you think your care is optional."
Her eyes rolled back.
"Eyes on me" he ordered "You're going to look at me the entire time and the next time you think about lying to me—" a deep, grinding roll of his hips made her sob, "you're going to remember what I'm giving you."
"Yes—Zaynie—please—"
"Please what." Still moving. Still that same rhythm.
"Harder—"
"You want it harder?"
"Please—"
"You don't deserve harder. What you deserve," he pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained inside "is to feel exactly how much your body missed me and think about why that happened."
"I know why—I know—"
"Tell me."
"Because I was—because I didn't—"
"Because you were being a brat," he said simply, and drove back in, hard.
Crack. A slap to her pussy.
The sound was loud enough that you actually jumped.
Zayne's hand left yours. His palms hit the closet doors. They swung open and he walked out.
You stepped out behind him and the four of you looked at each other.
Future Zayne looked at present Zayne. The two of them stared at each other with an expression you could only describe as mutually horrified recognition.
Present Zayne spoke first.
"You need a haircut," he said.
Future Zayne blinked. "I — what?"
"The back. It's uneven."
Future you, still on the desk, raised her hand slightly"What the fuck?"
Everyone looked at her.
"Are you—" she pointed her finger toward you and Zayne.
You tried to explain. "It was a protocore, a white one. We touched it and ended up here. We were in the closet."
She stared at you. "For how long?"
"A while."
"How long is a while?"
You looked at the floor.
"The whole—"
"The whole thing," you confirmed.
"Including—"
"Yes."
"And when he said the thing about the—"
"Yes."
"Great, that's great."
Present Zayne looked at future you. "Are you ok?"
"I'm great" she said, very flatly. "Do you mind?"
"Right." Present Zayne looked at his hands briefly like he was checking they were still there. "Can I ask one thing, just one?"
Future you looked at him.
"Is this— do you—"
The White Protocore pulsed from under the desk. You grabbed it and then grabbed his leg. Looked at your future self still sitting on the desk looking at him with an expression you recognized as pity?.
"She's going to be just fine" she told him and you held the Protocore tighter.
White. Wind. Gone.
You landed and stayed on your knees for a moment. The protocore dissolved the moment it hit the ground.
Zayne was on one knee beside you, one hand still on the floor where he'd caught himself.
Eventually you sat back on your heels.
Zayne straightened up. Slowly.
"We're back"
Brilliant. Very useful contribution.
"We are"
"Are you okay," you said.
"I'm fine," he said. Instantly.
"Okay."
"It would be helpful to have some time to—"
"I'm gonna go"
He looked up.
"I have to head back to HQ" you said, getting your jacket, moving toward the door because if you didn't he was going to combust and you were going to watch it happen.
"Right, yes. Can we—"
You turned around.
He was looking at his desk. Ears still bright red. "It's nothing, drive safe."
The door clicked shut behind you and you stood in the hallway for a few seconds.
Then you walked to the elevator, pressed the button, stared at the doors and tried not to think about a future version of you getting railed on his desk.
Tag list for this series: @valkori3s @crimsonrubie @young-adult-summer @aetherrx @zayniacforreal @skzlover143 @moonlight-jasmine7 @sakuraneko-sakupanda-chan @applesanchor @syqxen @hwangintakswifey @opalesquegirl
stuck in an rv: lads LIs when they’re trapped on a hot summer day
scenario: mc sends the boys on a group trip as a team-building exercise. intending to enjoy a fun day at the beach, they become trapped in an rv during a heatwave with only half a bottle of water between them. lord of the flies ensues.
*in this universe, they do not have evol because that would make escape extremely easy.
**inspired by the victorious episode!
it's valko's rv in the first place—he uses it to take the kids in his pack on camping trips, teaching them to thrive in the wild. usually, he keeps a healthy supply of rations, but the pups completely raided him last time and he forgot to restock. all he has is a half-full (half-empty, sylus argues) bottle of water in the cup holder. when he realizes they’re stuck, he tries to use his spare metalwork tools lying around to cut or break through the walls; he maybe even howls a few times to try to get bystanders’ attention.
when neither strategy works, he’s not shy about stripping down to his underwear—“it’s hot in here, man” (caleb has never seen boxers with a built-in tail window before)
it’s scorching inside, and rafayel is crashing quick. the longer he sits there baking in the heat, the more he starts to look kind of like spongebob and patrick when they were all dried up on that table. his intermittent sips of water bring him back to lucidity, enough for him to offer solutions, but only momentarily. in between, he’s absolutely delirious from dehydration and, thus, out of commission.
he wills his fish brethren to come and rescue him but they cannot walk.
sylus, with his greedy self, hogs the water bottle and drinks more than his share. he’s used to people being mad at him, so he doesn’t react much to everyone’s outrage. valko, however, is the only one agitated to the point of altercation; he nearly starts a fistfight over their limited resources, and it’s the most entertained sylus has been all day.
when the water runs out, he sprawls out in the corner and tsks. “well, i guess we’ll just have to eat him for sustenance, then,” he says, except he doesn’t specify which “him” he’s referring to. everyone backs away from him and keeps an eye on him at all times.
he secretly has an extra bottle of water in his bag the whole time. when questioned on why he never said anything, he answers, “you never asked.”
zayne is the only thing holding the group together. ever the mediator, he selflessly demands that rafayel get the largest share of water since, biologically, he needs it the most. because he tends to run cold, he alternates placing his palms on valko’s forehead since his hair/fur is so thick and insulating. sometimes when he shifts positions, it feels like he's petting him, and valko’s wolf ears pop up. they both ignore it. sylus stares amusedly from the corner.
when sylus and valko are at each other’s throats, zayne bravely puts himself between them, with a loopy rafayel chanting lemurian mantras to himself in the background. caleb just stares in disappointment.
in the chaos, caleb is dead set on finding a solution. he fiddles with the door and windows trying to finesse his way out, and he refuses his ration of water, to his own detriment. rafayel is grateful for the extra share, but sylus thinks he’s dumb—altruism doesn’t ensure survival.
since they have no cell service, he tries to fiddle with the rv’s radio to make contact—anything he can think of, really. when that doesn’t work, he tries to preserve his energy. it’s an endless war at this point; he has no idea how long he’ll be stuck in here.
eventually, after redoubling his efforts and tinkering endlessly with the door, he finally manages to work it open and set everyone free
xavier was supposed to join the others in the rv, but he slept in and they left without him. instead, he took the bus to the beach and got there an hour later. through the window, the others spot him walking around in confusion and bang on the glass to get his attention; they yell for him to find help, and he accepts the mission. three minutes later, he gets roped into handing out recruitment flyers for a youth volleyball team.
once they’re free, the others track him down. he’s licking a blue ice cream cone, surrounded by squealing, sandy children. “oh,” he says. “i’m glad you guys didn’t need my help.”
their first venture into the ocean that afternoon is the five of them chasing him into the water.
mc, having been lounging on a beach chair for hours watching this all unfold from afar (totally would've intervened had the circumstances become dire), supposes this does count as a team-building exercise at the end of the day—operation “hang xavier from his ankles” is a go.
Actionable Ideas for Challenging Infold Over Valko's Release
A lot of LADS fans are really upset over Infold's decision to shelve Valko. This is my attempt at creating action items for fans wanting to do something but are unsure where to start.
Here are some methods for giving Infold feedback:
Sign this petition and this petition
Reply to their posts on X (Twitter)
Comment on their Instagram posts
Comment on their Facebook posts
Comment on their YouTube videos
Join their official Discord Server and voice your dissatisfaction
Leave a 1-star review on the Apple App Store or the Google Play Store
Complete the survey in the Love and Deepspace app by selecting the box/pencil icon in the top right corner of the home screen
"Suggest" Valko's release in the Love and Deepspace app by going to Settings > More > Support, then select "Suggestion"
(If you want to be slightly passive-aggressive) On 9 July, go to Settings > More > Support, then select "Bug Report" and fill out the report stating that the promised Valko content is missing
Remember: if we want Infold to listen to us, we MUST remain civil and demonstrate our affection for the game. I highly doubt they will be intimidated by non-CN players, which means we are held to a different standard. What is effective for them will not be effective for us.
With that said, remember these do's and dont's:
Do repeatedly submit/post/send your feedback over the next few weeks. Email them today, in a few days, on 9 July, and in the weeks after. Post on their social media every day. Overwhelm them and show them this isn't going to go away over a few free Wishes.
Do prepare to CONTINUE submitting/posting/sending your feedback over the next few months. Infold needs to see that we won't let this issue go. Schedule emails to be sent to them over the next 3 months. Draft X posts today and copy and paste them to post in a few months time. Draft your long-form in-app feedback in preperation for the update and the upcoming banners. Create reminders to check and comment on their posts weekly. Don't let them get comfortable. Be a dog with a bone (lol).
Do maintain a polite tone in your feedback (even when you are issuing a threat like leaving the game).
Do specify your current disappointments, long-term criticisms, and expectations for the future of the game should you continue to play.
Do clearly isolate your long-term issues with the game from the current issue of Valko's release. Make it clear that those issues are not resolved by delaying or permanently canceling Valko's debut.
Do talk positively about whatever you can (ie. enjoying other LIs, enjoying the content of the Main Story itself, appreciating the worldbuilding, etc). This may feel difficult, but it demonstrates that you are a passionate player. Infold can assume that a player so invested in the game would need something drastic to push them to leave.
Don't use profanity.
Don't reference CN players.
Don't bring up Infold's past mistakes. We need to stay focused on the current issues.
Don't criticize anything about Valko's teased content. This one may be unpopular, I know. If Infold is pulling back Valko's release, I don't think it's likely that they will be willing to invest any more time and money into his development. If they continue to get more and more criticisms about him and don't care to change anything about him, they will never release him. I'm not minimizing any fan's concerns; I'm suggesting we choose a priority.
If you are unsure where to start, here are some talking points:
Express your excitement over Valko (bonus points if you give reasons why). Did you come back from a long hiatus for him?
Express your disappointment over not having Valko in the game. How will it impact your enjoyment of the game?
Describe how you prepared for his anticipated arrival.
• In-game (farm for dias, bought packs, etc)
• On your devices (created storage space, bought a new device, etc)
• Financially (budgeted for buying packs upon his release, etc)
Describe how you engaged in fandom around Valko. Did you create fanart, fanfiction, or other fanworks? How much were you consuming fanworks showcasing him? Demonstrating how beloved he was before any real content of his being released indicates a warm reception if/when he is released.
What are the current issues you experience with the game? Be specific. Describe exactly how they impact your gameplay. Suggest a concrete way those issues could be resolved. Assert that Valko's release being postponed or canceled will not resolve these issues.
Express concern for the changes to their planned story arc his absence would create. Question if those changes would be as enjoyable as their original plan.
(If you're feeling up to it) Acknowledge the amount of time, effort, and money that must have gone into creating Valko. Let them know it would disappoint you to see it go to waste.
Infold made a terrible decision. We need to take action and let Infold know that a large portion of the LADS fanbase wants Valko to be released at some point. Let's try to remain positive where we can, engage in positive fandom, and do our best to make our voices heard by Infold.
