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For the Valko requests, I would love to see some cute family fluff between MC, Valko, his cousins, grandma, and his sister (I think he had a sister in his lore, correct me if I am wrong), because I want to see how MC would get along with Valko's family. 🐺
𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄
synopsis: when valko brings you home for the first time, he warns you about everything: his grandmother’s food, his sister’s stare, his cousin’s stories, the family jokes that always cut too close. he forgets to warn you that love in his house is not gentle or quiet, but loud, practical, mercilessly observant, and served warm at the kitchen table.
cw/tw: valko x reader. very soft domestic fluff. light family teasing.
read here: ao3 ⋅ tumblr
Valko lost his nerve three steps from the door.
It was a small death, but you saw it happen; the brave lift of his chin, the twitch in his jaw, the small, tragic collapse of his entire face when a crash came from inside the house.
His hand tightened around yours.
“Dobro,” he said.
Another crash.
From inside, and older woman called, “If that's my good plate, I will put someone in the ground before supper.”
Valko closed his eyes. You turned toward him.
He opened one eyes. “She loves plates.”
“More than people?”
“Depends on the people.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and relief moved through him all at once, softening his shoulders, loosening the frightened line of his mouth. He'd been nervous all morning. Badly nervous. Valko, who could grin with blood on his teeth and make danger look like a door he'd simply forgotten to knock on, had spent the whole walk here giving you warnings no sane person could have prepared for.
Do not let Mika read your palm. He makes things up and then believes them.
Do not compliment Baba's curtains unless you want curtains.
Do not say you're full.
And, most importantly, if anyone mentions the soup incident, Valko had said, grave as a condemned man, they're lying.
You had asked what the soup incident was.
He had started to walk faster.
Now he stood before the old wooden door with your fingers caught in his, trying to look calm and producing, somehow, the exact expression of a wolf about to be bathed.
“Valko,” you said softly.
“Yes?”
“You're shaking.”
“I'm not shaking.”
“You are.”
“I’m containing myself.”
“From what?”
“Hereditary embarrassment.”
The door flew open.
A girl about his age stood on the other side, dark-eyed and grinning, with flour on her cheek and murder in her posture. She took one look at Valko’s hand around yours, then lifted her gaze to his face with the slow delight of someone finding a knife exactly where she had hoped one would be.
A slow smile cut across her face.
“Oh,” she smirked. “So this is why you changed your shirt twice.”
Valko made a sound. Small, wounded, entirely unlike a wolf.
“I changed once.”
“You changed twice. The first shirt was the blue one. The second was the one that made you look like you were going to court. This...This is the third.”
His ears went red.
The woman held out her hand to you. “Milena. His sister.”
“Unfortunately,” Valko added.
“Fortunately. Without me, you'd still think soap is optional in winter.”
“It isn't optional.”
“Because of me.”
You took Milena's hand. Her grip was warm, firm, and full of judgement she hadn't yet decided to use.
Behind her, the house breathed out heat. Bread, onions, some in old wood, something sweet cooling on a counter. There were voices everywhere, layered and crossing. One person laughing while another complained, a child humming under a table, chairs scraping, a kettle whistling like a bird losing patience.
Milena stepped aside. “Come in before Baba starts saying we were raised by wolves.”
Valko muttered, “We were.”
She looked at him. “And still, some of us learned manners.”
You crossed the threshold. The house was smaller than the noise made it seem, or maybe the noise had simply learned to fill every corner. Framed photographs climbed the walls in crooked rows. Herbs hung drying above the kitchen window. Nothing matched, and yet everything looked touched, mended, argued over... kept.
Valko leaned close as he helped you out of your coat.
“Last chance,” he whispered. “We can run.”
You looked past him to where an old woman stood near the stove, hands folded over her apron, watching you with bright, wolfish eyes.
“Too late,” you whispered back. “I think she heard you.”
“I hear everything,” the old woman said.
Valko went still.
Milena smiled into her shoulder.
The old woman crossed the kitchen with the slow authority of someone who had ruled this house before any of them had teeth. She was small, broad in the shoulders, silver-haired, with flour on her wrist and no softness wasted in her face. The softness, you realised, was elsewhere. In the bread covered by a towel, in the chair pulled out before you reached it, in the way Valko lowered his head without being asked when she came close.
“Baba,” he said, and for the first time that day, his voice lost its jokes.
She, of course, ignored him.
Instead, she took your face between both hands.
Her palms smelled of rosemary, yeast, and soap. Her thumbs rested beneath your cheekbones, and for one strange second the whole house seemed to lean closer. The cousins, the kettle, the old boards, even Valko, holding his breath beside you.
“So,” Baba Vesna said. “You are the reason he forgets to eat.”
“I eat,” Valko protested.
Teta Marika appeared by the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “You came here last week, opened the pantry, stared at a sack of potatoes for six minutes, then said, ‘I wonder what she’s doing.’”
“That was taken out of context.”
“What was the context?” you asked, because love had made you brave and terrible.
Valko looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
A boy leaning backwards on his chair nearly lost balance from laughing, another cousin caught the chair by its back without looking up from peeling an apple.
Baba Vesna patted your cheek once and released you. “Sit, dušo. Eat something before my family embarrass me properly.”
Valko gave a strangled laugh. “Before?”
No one listened to him.
You were placed at the long wooden table as if the decision had been made before you arrived. A bowl appeared, then bread, then butter, then a small plate of pickled vegetables. Teta Marika, Valko's aunt, kissed the air beside your cheeks and took the small gift you had brought. Mika announced that he already knew your favourite colour from Valko’s face. Luka told him that was the stupidest sentence ever spoken in the kitchen, which Mika accepted as praise. The little one beneath the table emerged, solemn and bread-dusted, and introduced himself as Niko.
“Are you going to marry him?” Niko asked.
Valko walked directly into the side of a chair.
The whole kitchen paused. You pressed your lips together.
Milena leaned against the doorway, radiant with cruelty. “Careful, Niko. Val only has two knees.”
“Niko,” Teta Marika turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand. “We ask guests if they want juice first.”
Niko nodded, absorbing this etiquette with grave importance. “Do you want juice before you marry him?”
Valko covered his face with both hands. You bit down on your smile so hard it almost hurt. This wasn't what you had expected.
Some foolish, frightened part of you had imagined a den in the old sense. Teeth, watchful eyes, a family arranged around blood and law, waiting to decide whether your bones could be allowed near theirs. Valko had never spoken of them casually. Whenever he said home, something tender and embarrassed moved through him, as though the word itself had fingers and knew exactly where to touch.
Now you sat beneath a crooked lamp while his grandmother tore bread with her hands and put the first piece on your plate.
“Eat,” Baba Vesna said.
You obeyed.
The bread was warm enough to steam between your fingers. The crust cracked softly, butter melted into it in golden lines. Across the table, Valko watched you take the first bite as if your mouth held judgment from heaven.
You chewed. Swallowed.
“It’s delicious.”
Baba Vesna clicked her tongue. “Of course it is wonderful. I made it.”
Mika leaned towards you. “He talked about you after the market yesterday.”
Valko’s hand hit the table. “No.”
“Yes, you did” Luka said sticking his tongue out.
“No.”
“You said, and I quote, 'she chooses fruit with such care'.”
The table went quiet for half a breath, your hand stilled around the bread. Valko looked at Luka as if betrayal had entered the room wearing his cousin’s face.
“That was private.”
“You said it in the kitchen.”
“That makes it private.”
Milena sat across from you and rested her chin in her hand. “He also said you have kind hands.”
Valko’s mouth opened, nothing came out. Your heart did something foolish inside your chest.
The teasing had worked him bright and flustered, but beneath it, something softer trembled. He was embarrassed, yes. Horribly, so. Beautifully, so. Yet the thing underneath was more dangerous than shame. This was exposure. A curtain pulled open in a room he had spent so long keeping dim.
He had spoken of you here.
At this table. In this warm, loud house. To these people who teased him because they knew what he looked like with no armour on. He had brought you home long before he ever brought your body through the door.
Baba Vesna filled your bowl with soup.
“He was always like this,” she said.
“Baba, please.”
“He was a strange child,” she said.
Valko groaned. “Please.”
“A sweet child,” Teta Marika corrected.
“A dramatic child,” Luka said.
“A biting child,” Milena added.
Valko pointed at her. “You bit first.”
“You looked biteable.”
“You see what I mean?” Valko turned to you with helpless outrage. “This is what I survived.”
There was love in it, the kind that had been cooked too long and reduced into something strong enough to stain. They spoke to him as if they had known every version of him and chosen, again and again, to keep putting food in front of whichever one came home.
You looked at him while he argued with Mika about whether a stolen spoon counted as a childhood trauma.
He caught you looking. For a moment, the noise thinned.
There he was.
Valko with his hair refusing every law of decency. Valko trying so hard to survive his own family and failing beautifully. His eyes met yours with a nervous brightness that made you want to reach across the table and be cruel to every fear that had ever found him.
Then Niko pointed his spoon at you.
“Are you keeping him?”
The kitchen stopped.
Valko made a tiny sound into his bowl.
Milena closed her eyes as if praying for patience and finding none. “Niko.”
“What? Mika said maybe she is keeping him.”
His gaze dropped to the table, to the bread by his hand, to the small old cuts in the wood. The blush still clung to him, but it had changed into something quieter now. Hope, perhaps. Or terror wearing hope’s coat.
You could have laughed. Everyone would have let you. It would have been easy to throw the question back into the room like a toy and watch them tear it apart.
Instead, beneath the table, you found Valko’s hand.
His fingers closed around yours at once.
“I’d like to,” you said.
The house held itself still for half a breath.
Then Baba Vesna nodded, once, as if some old contract had been signed in soup and honey.
“Good,” she said. “He is difficult, but warm.”
Valko bowed his head.
His shoulders shook.
At first you thought he was upset. Then you realised he was laughing, quietly, helplessly, with one hand over his mouth and the other holding yours under the table like he meant to keep it there until winter.
Mika groaned. “Ah, look at him. Finished. Completely finished.”
Milena reached for the pickles. “Good. He needed finishing.”
Teta Marika smiled into her tea. “Eat more, zlato. You will need strength.”
“For Valko?” you asked.
“For all of us.”
Dinner became less a meal than a storm with chairs.
Bowls moved, hands reached, stories climbed over one another and died unfinished because someone remembered a better accusation. Luka asked you practical questions in a calm voice: where you liked to walk, whether Valko had shown you the old river path, whether he still pretended not to like sweet things. Mika tried to read your palm and declared that you were fated to own a troublesome dog.
“That's just Valko,” Milena said.
“I am not a dog.”
“True,” Luka said. “Dogs listen.”
Valko began quietly placing the best pieces of food on your plate.
A soft carrot, the inside of the bread, a dumpling he pretended to move away from himself and somehow abandoned beside your spoon. He was not subtle. He had never been subtle. He was a wolf trying to hide a whole deer behind a napkin.
You noticed on the fourth offering.
His family noticed on the first.
Baba Vesna said nothing until Valko tried to give you the last honey cake. Then she leaned back in her chair and looked at him over her tea.
“Ah,” she said.
Valko froze.
It was one syllable. It landed like a bell.
“What?” he said.
“No, no.” She waved him off. “Continue. Starve for romance. Very noble.”
Mika threw his head back.
You picked up the honey cake before Valko could die at the table and broke it in two, placing half on his plate. “There,” you said. “No starving.”
He looked at the cake.
Then he looked at you.
His expression opened in a way that made the room, somehow, feel too small for your heart. It opened with that unguarded, bewildered softness he sometimes gave you when kindness arrived before he had prepared himself to receive it.
Milena saw it.
Her teasing quieted.
For a moment, she only watched him with something old and protective in her face.
Then she stood. “Come help me with plates.”
Valko blinked. “Me?”
“Her.” Milena pointed at you.
Valko frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It has worked on you for years.”
You rose before he could protest again. Milena took two plates from the table and handed you none of them, which told you at once that this had nothing to do with helping.
She led you down a narrow hallway lined with photographs.
Behind you, Valko’s voice rose. “Do not interrogate her.”
The hallway smelled faintly of beeswax and dried herbs. The noise of the kitchen softened behind you, still there, still golden, but now wrapped in walls. Milena stopped by a window overlooking the yard and leaned her hip against the sill.
For the first time all evening, she let the smile leave her face.
“He likes you,” she said.
You smiled gently. “I got that impression.”
“No.” Her eyes flicked towards the kitchen. “He likes people easily. He likes old men who tell bad stories, stray cats that scratch him, children who throw rocks at windows because they want attention. Valko is built stupid that way.”
A laugh escaped you.
Milena folded her arms.
“He brings things home,” she continued. “Broken things, angry things. Things he thinks no one else will be gentle with.” Her gaze moved towards the kitchen, where Valko’s voice lifted in protest. “He does not bring people home.”
Your throat tightened.
From the kitchen, Valko shouted, “It wasn't soup. It was stew.”
Mika shouted back, “Stew cannot make a grown man cry.”
“I was overwhelmed by flavour.”
Milena closed her eyes for one second. “Bože, give me strength.”
You laughed softly.
She looked at you again, sharper now.
“He was nervous all week,” she said. “Changed his shirt three times. Asked me if the house smelled too much like onions. Asked Luka if his laugh was strange. Asked Baba if she could please not tell the story about the goat.”
“The goat?”
“Later.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “Maybe never.”
You glanced back towards the kitchen.
He had asked if his laugh was strange.
Something in you ached with such tenderness that it almost felt like anger.
You looked down.
“He didn’t need to worry,”
“He is clumsy with precious things,” she said. “Because he thinks his hands are only good for breaking them, even when he is careful. Especially then.”
“So be kind,” she said. “Or be cruel quickly. He will survive either, but I prefer to know which one I’m dealing with.”
There it was.
The knife under the table. The love with its teeth intact. You didn't resent her for it, you thought, strangely, that you liked her more for it.
“I’m not here to hurt him,”
“Most people aren’t, at first.”
“Milena.”
Milena’s gaze narrowed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” you admitted.
“With any of this,” you continued. “He makes everything feel…” You searched for the word and hated every pretty one that came. Fated. Wild. Tender. All too polished for the mess he made of your heart. “He makes everything feel like I’ve been walking past a door my whole life, and he is the idiot who opened it with his shoulder.”
Milena stared at you.
Then she laughed once, sharp and startled.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re gone too.”
You looked down, caught.
She seemed satisfied. “Good.”
“Is that approval?”
“That is me deciding not to be difficult.”
“You were being difficult?”
“Dušo,” she said, and now her smile had teeth in it, “I was being polite.”
When you returned to the kitchen, Valko was waiting near the doorway as if he had tried to remain seated and failed.
His eyes moved from you to Milena. “What did you say to her?”
Milena walked past him. “That you were adopted.”
“I’m not.”
“Emotionally, you're a wet dog we found in the rain.”
He watched her go, wounded on principle, then turned to you with genuine concern. “What did she actually say?”
You reached up and brushed flour from his sleeve. “That you’re warm.”
“That was Baba.”
“Family consensus.”
His mouth twitched. “You are enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“You were supposed to be intimidated.”
“By Mika?”
“By the bloodline. The history. The general atmosphere of teeth.”
“Mika told me my palm says I’ll own a dog.”
Valko sighed.
You reached up and plucked the dish towel from his shoulder. “You have flour on your sleeve.”
He looked down, surprised, as if his own body had been making decisions without him. Then he looked back at you, and the kitchen noise faded once more, though this time it was only the two of you making the world small.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
The question was casual enough for anyone else to miss the tremor underneath. You heard it. The naked, waiting part. You thought of his hand shaking outside the door. Baba Vesna taking your face between her palms, of bread steaming in your fingers, of honey cake divided in two, of Milena saying he doesn't bring people home.
“I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”
Valko smiled too quickly. “I’m alive.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
His smile softened.
For once, he did not joke immediately. It cost him something. You could see it in the way his fingers flexed at his side, reaching for mischief and finding courage instead.
“I wanted them to like you,” he said. “I wanted you to like them.”
“I do”
“I wanted…” He stopped, then laughed under his breath. “I don’t know. Something stupid.”
He looked towards the kitchen, where his family had resumed their noise without mercy. Mika was accusing Luka of stealing the larger piece of cake. Baba Vesna had taken down a tin from the highest shelf, probably containing either biscuits or secrets.
“Valko, stop hiding her. I have photographs.”
Horror returned to his face with magnificent speed.
“No.”
“Yes,”
“No photographs.”
“Naked baby photos,” Mika added.
Valko went pale. “You do not have those.”
Teta Marika’s voice drifted after him, serene and deadly. “We have everything.”
He grabbed your hand. “We’re leaving.”
You let him pull you three steps before Baba Vesna appeared in the doorway holding a small album to her chest.
“Sit,” she said.
Valko sat.
It was remarkable how quickly a wolf could become a grandson.
For the next hour, they showed you the evidence of his life.
Valko missing two front teeth and glaring at the camera as though betrayed by dentistry. Valko asleep under the table with one hand buried in a dog’s fur. Valko at thirteen, all elbows and outrage, holding a fish half his size while crying because he had to put it back.
There was Valko covered in mud, Valko wearing a paper crown, Valko with Milena’s arm hooked around his neck while he pretended to hate her and leaned into her anyway. Valko standing beside Baba Vesna in the garden, holding a basket of tomatoes like he had been entrusted with the fate of nations.
Each photograph was another small door.
You had known him in pieces: the grin, the hunger, the awkward tenderness, the jokes he threw like branches over deep water. Here was the rest of him. Here was the child who had survived becoming himself because these hands had fed him, scolded him, dragged him upright, and remembered his softness when he tried to outgrow it.
At some point, while everyone argued over whether the goat incident happened before or after the soup incident, Valko bent close to you.
“You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured.
You turned a page.
A tiny Valko stared up from the album, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.
“Yes,” you said. “I do.”
He stared at you.
Then, very briefly, he rested his forehead against your shoulder.
It lasted only a second. A shy, exhausted surrender. No one commented on it, though you knew every person in the room saw. That seemed to be another house rule. They would mock the wound, yes, but they protected the pulse.
Later, when the cups were cleared and the album returned to its shelf of holy embarrassments, you stepped outside for air.
The yard was cold, dark and soft around the edges. Herbs grew beneath the window, yhe old trees leaned towards the house as if listening. Behind you, the kitchen glowed gold, laughter pressing against the glass.
Valko followed after a moment, closing the door carefully behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You looked at him. “For what?”'
“The interrogation. The photographs. Mika. The marriage question. The soup litigation.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Milena.”
“I like Milena.”
“That means she behaved.”
“She said she was being polite.”
He winced. “Then she liked you.”
You leaned back against the porch railing, and he stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets, rocking once on his heels like he wanted to come closer and had forgotten the law of his own body.
Through the window, you could see Baba Vesna pretending to wipe the table while watching you both with shameless interest. You lifted a hand and waved.
She waved back.
Valko turned, saw her, and groaned. “For the love of...Baba.”
“She loves you.”
“That's her usual excuse for crimes.”
“It’s a good one.”
He looked back at you, and the teasing left him slowly, piece by piece. Out here, with the house at his back, he seemed caught between the wild thing and the loved thing. The wolf and the boy in the paper crown. The man who had brought you to the threshold with shaking hands and still tried to joke like fear could be made harmless if he gave it a funny name.
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
“Which part?”
“When Niko asked if you were keeping me.”
The question came lightly, too lightly. A feather laid over a blade.
You reached for him.
This time, Valko did not hesitate. He came into your space at once, as if pulled by a string tied somewhere behind his ribs. His hands settled at your waist, careful at first, then warmer when you didn't move away.
“I meant it,”
His eyes searched yours.
“For tonight?”
“For longer than that.”
He didn't kiss you immediately. Somehow, that made it worse. He stood there and let the answer enter him, slowly, like someone opening the door to a room he had been told was empty and finding it lit.
Inside, Mika yelled, “Are they kissing?”
Valko dropped his forehead to your shoulder.
“Leave them. He is finally being normal.”
You laughed.
He looked at you then, and the last of his embarrassment broke open into something bright, something almost boyish
“Welcome home,” he said, very softly.
You touched his cheek.
Behind him, the old house breathed and creaked and held its golden noise. Inside, his family waited with tea, teeth, stories, and a place at the table already made yours.
You're in bed with a book, deliberately not looking at Valko when he slinked into your room ten minutes ago because you know what he did this afternoon and you are still mad about it.
"What do you think you're doing?" You've been ignoring him all day but it was hard forcing yourself to focus on the words on the page when a 6'2" wolf man is rolling around in your laundry, trying to get your attention.
Valko stops half roll, tangled in your pile of clothes, "Reading like you."
"You're lying on my clothes."
"I am not lying on your clothes," he says while very obviously lying on your clothes.
"Please go away, i don't want to start a fight." You don't have the energy to do this right now.
"I'm not trying to start one." His fluffy ears pricks up which successfully indicated you he isn't giving up. "This is just how scent marking works in our pack."
You want to drop him off at the abandoned pet shelter. "You're so immature."
His ears drop. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have scared away the dog.”
"You scared off Tara's dog in her own backyard.”
“I didn't do anything. I just stood there when I should've bitten him instead.” He says the last part under his breath.
"He was shaking, Val.”
"I got jealous, okay?" His tail droops and ears turn flat. "You were petting him."
"That's not a reason to scare a golden retriever half to death."
"It felt like a very good reason at the time.”
You give him your deadliest glare, the one that would normally scare off any normal person but he's Valko and he's not normal, so he takes it as an invitation instead and crawls on the bed, dropping his head into your lap. “Ugh. Fine, i will apologise to her and her dog.”
“Good boy.”
“Okay then pet this good boy.”
You pinch his nose, and his teeth follow your finger to bite in protest but he melts immediately the second your fingers move to scratch behind his ear, his tail wrapping around your ankle possessively as he hums in satisfaction.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You write Valko so well please don't stop your writing is delicious 😔🙏🏻🌸
hi anon!!
thank you for your sweet words!! i wasn’t planning on stopping to write for valko at all!! i’m going to write him as much as i want hehe (so pretty much all the time)
in lia world, he is a cute puppy wolf who enjoys chocolate and walkies so he’s here to stay!!
Please don’t delete any of your lads content. I lost so many artwork and fics already I know other people works i am not entitled to but at least archived them if you ever leave :(
hi anon, my lovely!!
i personally do not have any plans of leaving lads anytime soon so no need to worry!!
as for the archiving thing, i will try my best to remember to archive if i ever leave (hopefully not) as i used to have a wattpad account in the past and i just deleted it.
i have no thoughts of leaving lads right now, i’m still very much interested in what the future holds for them (main story and valko included)!
fluff! doing the favourite words trend on valko, valko my baby :( still in denial
“hello?” you bring the phone up to your face. “hi tara!” no response.
you grin, thinking of valko’s response during this silly prank of yours.
“the weather is so nice isn’t it? should we go on a walk together?” you pretend to not notice valko shuffling ever so slightly towards you on the sofa.
“we should definitely get ice cream too! a chocolate ice cream sounds so good right now.” you relax into the sofa.
“baby?” you hear a quiet voice beside you, valko lightly poking your arm.
“hi baby, i’m on the phone with tara. can you give me a minute please?” he nods, putting his head on your shoulder.
“the new exercise machines at the park seem so fun, i really want to try them out.” valko sits up, lightly turning your head so you can face him.
“can i join? please, peach?” he gives you his best puppy eyes.
“shhh, just another minute baby.” you silence him, putting a finger on his lips.
“you should come over to mine so we can have a nap together, perfect date.”
“date? peach, please can i go?” he paws at your hair, kissing your cheek.
your heart flutters. “i’m sorry, baby.” you show him the black screen.
“so does this mean we can go on a date together?” he asks, nuzzling his face into your neck.
“of course puppy, we can go anywhere you want together.”
﹙♡﹚hi! more valkie-val content for you, my sweet angels. ♡ i think i write best when i'm emotional, and i truly needed something heartwarming. hope you all like it, and thanks for the support! (๛ ˘ ³˘ )♡
“valkie, where are you going?” you whispered, your hands clutching his bicep in an attempt to make him stay.
he turned to you, his head cocking to the left.
his warm palm came up to cup your cheek, and you immediately nuzzled it, leaning against his touch.
“it's late, bunny. i have to go,” he explained, his smile easy, but his golden eyes betraying hesitation.
you frowned slightly, looking down at the floor, only to lift your eyes seconds later and meet his again.
“yeah, but… you just came,” you insisted, your voice turning frail, almost desperate. “stay? a little while, please.”
his thumb caressed the soft curve of your cheekbone.
he couldn't stay; he knew it.
but he couldn't leave you alone, either, not when you were looking at him with those pleading eyes, clinging to him as if you needed his existence to keep breathing.
“honeybun, i wish i could, but…” he trailed off, his resolve growing weaker.
“please…” you mumbled, your arms now coiling around his torso. you nuzzled his strong chest, trying to commit his scent and warmth to memory.
if he was going to leave so soon, you wanted to take as much of him with you as you could.
he leaned down, his chin now resting atop your head.
his hands hesitated before resting on your lower back, pulling you closer to him, making your bodies almost melt together.
you whined softly and shut your eyes so tightly that you couldn't perceive the light or shadows anymore.
you didn't want to think of anything else that wasn't this moment.
you wanted to recognize him by his scent; his manly, musky perfume, so that when you were lost, you could find your way back to him with all of your senses.
you didn't notice you were trembling until he lifted your head, his expression soft but concerned.
he leaned closer, his warm lips catching a tear as it rolled down your cheek. valko lingered, the tip of his nose warm against your skin, his mouth pressed gently to your tear-streaked face.
how could anyone try to keep him away from you?
“valkie,” you sniffled, your hands travelling up his chest until they rested on his shoulders. “will you come back…?”
he sighed.
his lips left your skin as he pulled back, but he remained close, pressing your foreheads together.
“i won't need to come back,” he mumbled, his arms wrapping around your waist in a way that left little to no room for you to move. “because i won't leave, little bunny.”
your breath hitched.
you searched his gaze for any hint of deceit, or perhaps pity; a pity that would make him tell sweet lies as long as you stopped crying.
but those golden pools held nothing but resolve and tenderness; a mate promising his beloved he wouldn't dare leave as long as he lived.
he couldn't do it, he wouldn't survive if he left. his heart wouldn't make it if he didn't have yours beating close to it.
“you— really? you promise?” you whispered, your fingers gently caressing the smooth undershave at his nape, perhaps to ground yourself, perhaps to comfort him as well.
he kneeled right there in front of you, his chin tilting up so he could meet your gaze.
he took your hands in his and kissed each and every one of your knuckles. he then turned your hands over and nuzzled your warm palms, closing his eyes in pure bliss.
“i promise,” he assured, looking up through his thick eyelashes.
you cupped his cheeks and caressed his warm skin with the tips of your fingers, your eyes still glistening with unshed tears.
you traced the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows, his jawline, trying to memorize their shape, their texture, their softness and sharpness all at once.
it was almost as if you were scared of him disappearing.
scared of him going, scared of him leaving, and scared your mind wouldn't be able to recall anything you could hold on to.
he followed your hands with his eyes until he captured your fingers, pressing soft, wet kisses to them.
then, he stood up, towering over you in a way that never once felt threatening.
he picked you up in his arms with painful gentleness, treating you like the most delicate and fragile treasure, and held you against his chest, his body curling inward just to keep you surrounded by him.
his limbs, his scent, his breathing, and his clothes all brushed against your skin.
your fingers clung to him for dear life.
his long legs carried both of you to your bedroom, where he finally placed you down.
but you refused to let him go.
you stubbornly kept your limbs wrapped around his body, so he had no choice but to lie on top of you as carefully as he could, then gently roll the two of you over so that you'd be resting on his chest.
he lowered his hands until they reached the small of your back, and he pressed a lingering, soft kiss to your forehead the moment your pretty eyes looked up at him.
“i'm here, my bunny,” he whispered, his low voice rumbling in his chest. “i'm not going anywhere.”
no, he wasn't.
you wouldn't let him.
you shook your head softly and nuzzled his neck, sniffing his scent the way he taught you to; soft little sniffs to recognize where his scent was the strongest, then three long, slow inhales to take it in and commit it to memory.
the mix of pine, sandalwood, and the natural scent of his skin made you feel drowsy; the fear of him leaving replaced by his grounding promise.
you kissed the warm spot that brought you comfort, and let your consciousness drift away.
valko remained quiet, but he watched attentively as your eyelashes stopped fluttering, and your chest rose and fell calmly against his.
he nuzzled the top of your head and pulled a blanket over the two of you, almost as if to keep you both beneath a protective barrier the rest of the world couldn't break.
he knew not to make promises he could break, but… you were fighting so hard to cling to him, to remember him.
and if your heart, body, and soul were already memorizing every inch of his skin, he wouldn't truly be gone from your world.
ever.
he closed his eyes and buried his face deeper in your hair.
maybe fate would ask impossible things of him one day, maybe the world would try to pull him away.
but, if it ever did, he would spend every lifetime finding his way back to the little bunny who knew his scent by heart.~
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valko is always there for you, especially on the bad days
a/n: idgaf actually . (lying) here is valko fluff and comfort , go forth my locusts, you know what to do 🦗🦗🦗🦗🦗
tags/warnings: valko comfort, mentions of being upset but not about what, valko helps you undress, mentions of valko taking ur bra off ,,, i think that’s it !
“long day?” the deep timbre makes your chest clench, dried tears staining your cheeks from the broken sobs you’d let loose while in your car.
“i didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you mumble, not bothering to hide your emotions, there was no point. valko probably sniffed out your sour mood the second you pulled in.
“missed you too much, doll,” he smiles softly, pushing himself off your couch and walking over to you. there’s tears brimming in your eyes when he approaches you, eyes focused more on toeing your shoes off than looking at your lover. “you wanna talk about it?” his voice is gentle, warm.
you bite your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. you throw your keys in the small wolf shaped catch-all valko had bought you. valko hears your breath hitch, a frown on his face as he immediately steps closer you.
“c’mon dollface,” he doesn’t waste time in spinning you around softly, calloused thumb wiping away your tears as he smiles down at you. “it’ll be okay, i promise you.” his lips land on your forehead, brushing away any stray hairs.
“you hungry? I can order us some dinner,” you stay quiet at his words, your face buried in his chest as you let out quiet sobs.
“everything fucking sucks val,” you manage out, stepping back and angrily wiping your tears, “i finally had something i was so excited for and they just-” your voice cracks on the last word, valko wants to kill whoever made you this upset.
you bury your face in your hands, body shaking as you try and calm yourself down. valko doesn’t hesitate to sweep you up into his arms, biceps flexing as he cradles you. instinctively, your arms wraps around his neck, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you sniffle.
valko doesn’t say anything as he carries you to the bathroom, shifting you to carry you in one arm as he turns the water on for you.
“w-what are you doing?” you ask quietly, wiggling slightly as a sign for him to put you down. he complies immediately, gingerly lowering you until your feet are firm on the ground.
“didn’t you tell me there wasn’t anything a warm shower couldn’t fix after i couldn’t get my research right?” there’s the slightest teasing lilt to his voice, you want to roll your eyes at him.
“well yeah but-” you try and protest, valko raises his eyebrows, your rebuttal dies on your lips.
“and you’re using the expensive body wash i got you, no buts” he smiles, stifling his laughter when you grumble at his words. he waits for a moment before turning to step out of the bathroom, immediately halting when he feels your hand on his wrist. “what is dollface?”
you stare into his amber eyes for a second, stomach flipping at the concern swimming in them. “do you think… can you stay with me?” valko can’t stop his ears and tail from popping out, tail wagging incessantly at your words.
“i will always stay with you, no matter what.” the conviction and firmness in his voice make your eyes water once more, and his steadfast façade shatters immediately. his arms are around you before you can process anything, pulling you into his chest and squeezing you. “don’t cry baby, I’m right here, I’ll always be right here,” the waver in his voice makes you smile slightly.
god he’s so helpless. you love him.
valko wastes no time in helping you undress, he taps your arms gently, a signal for you to lift them up as he takes your shirt off. you blush as his breath catches in his throat when he sees you.
“you act like you don’t see me naked everyday,” you huff, goosebumps rising on your skin as his fingertips ghost over your skin before unhooking your bra.
he places a feathery kiss to your shoulder, slowly slipping the strap down your arm and sniffing at your neck. he hums as he kisses your jaw. “does a sunset get less breathtaking because you’ve seen it the day before?” you can’t stop the smile that breaks onto your face, cheeks heating up.
“stupid wolf,” you smile, holding onto his broad shoulders as he helps you out of your bottoms. he nips at your thighs, giggling as he sinks his sharp canines gently into your skin, not enough to even leave a mark.
“your stupid wolf.”
you roll your eyes, “yes, my stupid wolf.”
valko helps you into the shower, rinsing your hair and helping you shampoo, gently washing your body as you ramble to him of what’s bothering you. he listens attentively, nodding along to your words and pouting when your voice wavers again. whether out of anger or sadness, maybe a mix of both, fresh tears spill out of your eyes.
“maybe it’s stupid for me to be so upset about it, but i was really excited,” you murmur, letting the hot water hit your skin and sighing sadly.
“nothing you feel is ever stupid, it’s okay to feel how you do, it’s normal.” his voice is even as ever, squeezing the last bit of conditioner out of your hair before reaching over you and shampooing his own hair quickly. you stare at him with a small smile and gleaming eyes.
you giggle as he rinses his hair quickly, shaking his head rapidly to get as much water off him as possible.
you’re both quiet as he helps you out of the shower, drying you with a fluffy towel before wrapping you in it, carrying you to your shared bed and setting you down. he hums softly as he opens your closet and drawers, grabbing your favorite pajamas and handing them to you.
“gonna place the order for food and I’ll be back, okay?” you nod in response, smiling when he blows a kiss your way with an over exaggerated ‘MWAH!’ before leaving you to your own devices.
the silence of your bedroom is consuming, but the hollowness that once filled your heart is filled.
you don’t feel sad as valko walks in minutes later with a horrible wolf pun. you smile as he drowns you in cuddles and kisses, his tail wagging wildly at the sound of your giggles. your heart is warm and your mind at ease as he pulls you closer to him, sweet nothings leaving his lips as he comforts you.
“when you have a bad day, i hope you can find comfort in the fact ill still be here for you, waiting for you to come home to me.”
are you quitting lads because a lot of people are 😞
hi anon!! no, i personally cannot bring myself to quit lads they got me through my a levels period and it was such a rough time, so i think the least i can do is be there for them in a sense??
goa rerun may be the only thing keeping me going but after the rerun, my love for lads will probably just gradually fizzle out and i will mourn and hopefully find a new game to love
﹙♡﹚yeah, no. valko won't become lost media under my watch. infold gave me enough information to make myself a general idea regarding his personality, so you best believe he's going to be considered the sixth and official li in this blog. love him so much 𐙚˙⋆.˚
it had been raining horribly for days, and going outside was a questionable choice.
you were focused on your screen, watching a silly drama series while clutching a cushion, your eyebrows furrowed.
you truly needed the entertainment, or else you'd bore yourself after thirty-six hours of confinement.
“how dumb, why doesn't he just confess…?” you whispered to yourself, taking a sip of your sweet, warm tea without looking away from the unnecessarily heartbreaking scenes.
just then, you heard a knock on your door.
it was five past eleven, no one in their right mind would go out so late, let alone when it was raining like crazy.
you paused the series and went to your door with soft, hesitant steps, your eyes narrowing.
“...who is it?” you asked, not daring to open the door just yet.
a soft whining noise caught your attention, most likely a puppy's.
did someone abandon a pup on your doorstep?
oh gosh, who'd do such a thing?
you opened it immediately, and when you looked down, expecting to see a wet box with a poor little creature inside, you found a pair of polished yet soaked shoes instead.
“gotcha,” a voice echoed, making you jump and look up.
ah, of course.
valko, with a stupid grin on his face.
“you… what are you—?” the words died in your mouth as he stepped inside, drenched, water droplets falling onto your clean floor.
he discarded his coat and shook his entire body like a dog, not only making a mess, but getting you just as wet.
“valko!” you squeaked, covering your face in a pathetic attempt to protect yourself from the flying water.
he looked around briefly before sniffing the air, his nostrils flaring softly. he left muddy footprints all the way to the kitchen, his large frame looking out of place inside your cozy apartment.
you grunted under your breath, picking up his wet coat with the tips of your fingers, trying to avoid the small puddles he left carelessly behind.
he checked your pantry, then your fridge, his eyes slowly travelling around.
he only turned around when he sensed your presence behind him.
“you can't just come in and make a mess, valko!” you whined, crossing your arms over your chest. “what is this? why are you here so late? and… step away from the fridge, you're wet and you'll catch a cold!”
he straightened up and looked down at you.
“you don't have much protein,” he said, pointing back at the fridge before closing the door. “you need meat.”
you parted your lips to speak, then frowned.
what was this?
an inspection?
he kept walking around, and you followed despite yourself.
now, valko and you had… a thing.
you'd say it was casual, occasional.
you liked him, and he liked you, but you felt it'd be too rushed to invite him over to your sacred place, even though it'd been going on for months.
so, having him here, invading every inch as if he owned the place, was not in your plans.
he entered every room, analysing the furniture and your unmistakable scent.
he sat down on your bed, his large hands dragging one of your plushies over and holding it hostage against his chest.
that's when he finally addressed you.
“it's nice,” he nodded, leaning against the headboard. “it's big enough to have four or five pups running around.”
you immediately felt your skin turn hot, your eyes wide.
your heart almost gave out with how fast it was beating.
“v-valko?”
“okay, what about three?” he arched an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “and then three more when we move to my place. it's bigger.”
you finally had enough.
you stomped closer and yanked the plushie away, holding it close.
this man—
“you can't— you… first of all, you're getting my bed all wet! second of all, you…” you took a sharp inhale, closing your eyes briefly. “you can't just casually mention… c-children, valko.”
he looked down at the damp mattress before meeting your gaze again.
his fluffy ears emerged, and you hated when they did.
it was a vile tactic, a dirty move, especially when… when he made them go all droopy, and his golden eyes looked so sad…
oh, that sweet face…
no!
“stop, valko!” you turned around and closed your eyes. “bad boy, bad!”
seconds later, a pair of strong arms coiled around your waist, easily lifting you off the ground.
he nuzzled the back of your head and inhaled your scent, his tail swishing softly behind him.
“why didn't you tell me to come over sooner?” he asked, his breath brushing the shell of your ear.
you planned to squirm away and get out of his grasp, yet instead, you found yourself freezing in place.
you didn't expect him to ask that.
“why did i have to invite myself in?” he continued, his tone dropping even lower. “you didn't want me here, in your space?”
“valkie… isn't it too soon?” you whispered. “it's only been a couple of months…”
“soon?” he echoed, his fingers digging ever so slightly into your soft tummy. “it's been one hundred and fifty-seven days. that's five full moons, little bunny.”
your eyes fluttered, finally opening after a while. all you could see were your legs suspended in the air.
“we should be married by now. you, marked. me, claimed,” he nuzzled your jawline from behind, lingering there a little longer. “how much longer am i supposed to wait?”
“valko…”
“you keep saying my name. if you like it that much, use it to beg for me to make you mine.”
you gasped, his words making you feel a strange warmth in your chest, and a dizziness you couldn't explain.
he sat down all of a sudden, pulling you onto his lap. your back was against his chest, and he hid his face in your neck, as if it were his refuge.
you thought he'd grow uncontrollable, that you'd have to throw a cushion his way and make him calm down, that he'd mark you right then and there, taking what he saw as rightfully his.
but the seconds went by, slowly, and instead of the situation escalating, you heard a small whine, muffled and low.
his arms tightened around your body, refusing to let go.
“...please,” he whispered. “how much longer, bunny?”
your heart melted.
you didn't know if you were ready.
hell, you didn't even know if he was being serious about the six kids, and if he was, then you had lots of things to think about beforehand.
but the idea of being his, of being marked and claiming him as yours in return, wasn't strange.
you'd had a taste of what valko would be like as a partner for… a lot of days, as he so explicitly recalled, and you didn't regret a single moment spent with him.
“i… i'm not sure yet, valko,” you whispered, not daring to move an inch. “i can't give you a date.”
he sighed, and while you weren't looking at him, you knew his tail had dropped when you could no longer hear it thump against your bed anymore.
“but…” you continued.
one of his ears perked up with interest, his golden eyes now bright.
“but you… could stay the night. get to know where i live, and… explore my space.”
that's all it took for valko to stand up again, turn you around with ease, and pull you against his chest in a tight hug.
his tail wagged like a propeller, and he buried his nose in your hair, shamelessly taking deep breaths to carry your scent with him for longer.
“two more full moons at most,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “no more.”
“valko, i just said—”
“i'll go clean up,” he kissed your lips, tilting your chin up with his index finger just to keep you in place. your eyes shut, and you instinctively returned the kiss, though it took you a few seconds to react.
when he pulled back, he brushed your lower lip with his thumb, noticing how it glistened with his saliva under the soft light of your lamp.
marked.
his.
“don't go anywhere,” he whispered, and that crooked, stupid grin came back to his face.
you were left speechless as he left your bedroom, his chest puffed out, and his fangs showing as he smirked.
you knew he'd take this as an opportunity to snoop around and mark his territory however he could, but instead of irritating you even more, you found it… somewhat adorable.
the rain kept falling outside, and your laptop had long since run out of battery, but you didn't mind.
the wet puppy now invading your space, checking whether you had enough food, whether your windows were secure enough, or whether your plushies were fluffier than him, was far more interesting than anything else.~
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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