we’re all yearning for werewolf co-worker, I’m afraid he’s too hot 😔 (love your works, the writing always delivers ❤️)

he’s stuck in the elevator with you and you’re ovulating and he can smell it in the air, this sweet, sticky scent that makes his throat tighten, and normally it wouldn’t bother him as much, but the full moon is just a few days away…

breathing through parted lips instead of his nose, he decides he’s going to call in sick to work tomorrow even though he’s never had to do that before. he’s always handled his… problem exceptionally well every month, has always changed back by dawn and cleaned up well before his morning shift.

that is until you showed up.

now it’s all messy. fucked up. it’s getting harder and harder to present himself as fully human.

so it’s either staying at home or that other side of him is going to win and make him shove his head right underneath your skirt. force him to lick you where you smell the most inviting whether you want it or not - which is the worst part.

you’re not going to make him lose just his job.

he’s also going to lose himself.

Ok...but what is werewolf co-worker planning to do next 🐺 is there a long term vision or...? 👀

normally you are first to arrive to the office each morning, so when you spot that one of the desk lights has already been turned on, you can’t help but investigate.

to your surprise, it’s him again. the co-worker who you’re pretty sure now tolerates/only semi-hates you. he’s sitting at his desk, propping himself up with one arm, the heel of his palm digging into his cheek as he scrolls through his phone with lazy swipes.

you don’t have to knock on the doorframe to announce your presence - before your hand can even start the motion, he’s already lifted his gaze from the screen.

a shiver runs through you when his eyes settle on you. you blame the AC.

“good morning,” you greet, feeling slightly awkward now. he’s messed up your routine, but you won’t say it aloud.

“morning,” he replies.

his voice sounds terribly hoarse. you spot the huge water bottle that he’s settled next to his computer. personally, you find it a rather risky spot, but who are you to judge if someone wants to spill electrolytes all over their company-asssigned keyboard?

despite his clean look and his nice tie, he still appears disheveled somehow. like he’s not fully himself yet, but hey, is anyone feeling quite like themselves at 5:30 in the morning? you can’t place your finger on the exact reason as to why so you don’t even give it a solid attempt. it’s too early to be solving puzzles anyway.

“rough night?” you muse.

well, perhaps it’s not that early.

he nods at your question, stifling a yawn. you can tell by the brief rise and fall of his shoulders.

if only you knew.

“i thought you said you weren’t a big drinker,” you say, beginning to search your bag for any spare painkillers. your last period was pretty bad, so there must be at least one lying around somewhere.

“i’m not- it’s not that,” he says. “i just couldn’t sleep that well tonight.”

“oh, because of the moon?”

his skin immediately pulls taut at the question. you don’t notice the sudden change in his demeanor, the way his hand drops from the side of his face, now fully alert. you’re too busy rummaging through your bag, looking for a painkiller he doesn’t need but that you’ve made your life’s mission of finding now just because.

he clears his throat. it still feels so fucking dry, like needles. it always does after a transformation.

“what?”

“you know, the full moon?” you repeat. “i heard that since humans are basically 70% water, the moon apparently messes with a lot of people’s sleep schedule. you could be one of them?”

he’s quiet for a long moment. long enough for you to abandon your bag and look up at him again.

in the dim light, his eyes appear yellowish in colour.

it’s weird, but what’s even more weird is that the AC must truly be busted, because if there was a shiver running through you earlier, now there’s an outright tremble tumbling down your body.

unwillingly, you shake the sensation off. when you look at him for a third time, the yellow hue in his eyes is gone.

“yeah,” he says, returning to his phone again. it feels like a dismissal. it probably is a dismissal.

“i’m one of ‘em all right.”