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Valko is incredibly attentive when it comes to you. Almost too attentive. So when your expression falls out of nowhere on a seemingly normal, relaxed afternoon, of course he'd notice before you even realized you let it slip.
"What's the matter, baby?" he reaches up towards your face, thumbing over your frown, his brow furrowing with worry.
"It's stupid," you mumble, sniffling.
"It's not." he insists. "Tell me, please?"
"Okay, I just…" you hesitate, taking a shaky breath and looking away. "I get these bad thoughts I can't control pretty often, and I got the impulse to take your drink and dump it all out on the table. And it would soak and ruin the books, and you'd be so upset and confused and…" You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, your voice beginning to wobble. "I-I don't know, um, imagining your expression makes me really sad,"
Valko hums, guiding you into his lap with a large hand on your waist and another resting on your spine, coaxing you to cry into his shoulder. You hiccup, your hands shaking as you fist them in his shirt.
"You're such a sweetheart, you know that?" he murmurs, slowly rubbing a hand up and down your back. "So gentle and kind, just the thought of upsetting me is enough to make you cry."
You look up at him, your eyes still watery, and he gives you a soft smile, cupping your cheek. "I am incredibly lucky to have you. Thank you for trusting me with your heart." His confession draws even more tears from your eyes, and he kisses each one away, causing you to giggle quietly.
"They're just thoughts, sweets. Even if it's tough, it's best to let them pass on by. If life is like a river, they're just the sticks floating by your boat." He kisses the tip of your nose, then pulls back to meet your eyes again. "If they're bothering you, just let me know. You know I'm good at finding new ways to occupy that little brain of yours, yeah?"
When you nod, the pride in his expression is unmistakable. "Good. Hey, how about we try that new fish game that just came out? The one you told me you wanted to play." He looks just as eager as you do when you say yes.
Zayne practically bursts down the exam room door, chest heaving from his run from the operating room to the ER after a nurse told him some friends have been asking for him.
Zayne isn't exactly a social man, so it could only be six people.
Turns out, everyone seems to be in tact. A sheepish Caleb sits in the chair in the corner, while Xavier sits on the table, holding a bloody tissue to his nose. Underneath his eyes, bruises bloom.
"What happened?" Zayne asks, wasting no time in pulling on a pair of gloves and rushing up to Xavier. He forces himself to be gentle in grabbing the back of Xavier's hand and lowering the tissue.
Xavier looks pointedly at Caleb, who coughs, squirming in his seat as his cheeks flush. "Well, uh, funny story..."
Zayne raises an eyebrow, gently poking Xavier's bruised nose, humming in apology as he winces.
"Caleb got a bit... passionate," Xavier says, an amused smirk on his face despite the pain.
"Passionate?" Zayne echoes, annoyance growing as he puts the pieces together.
"It felt really good, okay?" Caleb's voice raises in pitch, his intense blush spreading to his ears. "I went up to kiss him, and I was- was just a bit enthusiastic."
Zayne sighs, pulling back. "So you headbutted his nose?"
"I guess, yeah."
With a shake of his head, he pulls the gloves off and tosses them in the trash.
"You have a broken nose. As long as you're careful, it'll heal on it's own. Ice it to decrease the swelling and take the pain medication we have at home. I will write a letter to Captain Jenna to exempt you from field work for the next two weeks."
Xavier's face falls. "What? Why?"
"It's fragile, Xavier. One minor hit and you could worsen the break, leading to me having to realign it or operate on it. Trust me, you will appreciate the rest."
Xavier pouts, but accepts his fate, nodding.
"In addition, no sex for a week."
"What?" Caleb asks, voice cracking.
"That's not fair!" Xavier protests.
"I have another patient to see. Please take care of your nose. I'll see you both at home."
Zayne doesn't have another patient to see, not for another half an hour, so he sits in his office and opens his phone.
A wave of notifications come in. A picture of Xavier's nose, you and Valko fretting, Sylus making a joke, Rafayel laughing, and Caleb desperately defending himself.
Okay I'm kind of throwing this out here, I don't know how to do this properly...
I've been struggling for years now to get my debt down, but with me being too disabled to work, I haven't had much success.
I know finances are bad for a lot of us, so please don't feel pressured, but if anyone has something to spare - it would be very much appreciated 🙏🏻 🙇🏻
Whether you'd like a commission or send as a tip, I appreciate every bit of help 🙇🏻 🙇🏻
I realized that I never put examples for the little doodles I make. If you would like a doodle like this of your character or an animal, please head to my Kofi 🖤🙏🏻 any support is greatly appreciated! 🖤 🖤
I hate to bother people for money but with my recent groceries I'm getting closer to my permitted limit again and it's worrying me. So really any small bit is deeply appreciated.
Hello! Your writing and stories are so like reassuring and fun to read. What about lads with pregnant reader?
lots of love!🤍
Hello! I was back and forth a little on this one on if I was going to write it or not because it's just on the verge of things I am not comfortable writing, but here we go!
This will also be my first fic featuring Valko! It's been hard for me to engage with lads content recently because I have so much disappointment towards infold and how everything has been playing out so I apologize how long it is taking me to get through my requests.
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Xavier:
Being pregnant had done absolutely nothing to convince you that you should slow down.
You were still trying to carry grocery bags that were far too heavy, still insisting you could reach the top shelf without help, still volunteering for every little chore around the apartment.
Xavier was having none of it.
"You know I can do that."
"I know."
You reached for the laundry basket anyway.
"So...?"
"So let me."
You laughed.
"I'm pregnant, Xavier, not made of glass."
"No," he agreed as he lifted the basket from your hands. "But you're making a whole person."
He carried it down the hallway while you followed behind him with a sigh.
"You've become bossy."
"I've become practical."
"You've become overprotective."
He stopped walking just long enough to glance back at you, a smirk on his face.
"I've always been overprotective."
You couldn't argue with that.
It had only gotten worse after you'd told him you were pregnant.
If you mentioned craving strawberries at eleven o'clock at night, he came home with three cartons.
If your feet hurt after a long day, he was already kneeling in front of the couch, gently rubbing the ache from your arches before you even asked.
He insisted on carrying every shopping bag, opening every heavy door, reaching every high shelf.
Not because he thought you couldn't. Because he didn't want you to have to.
"You know," you teased one evening as he tucked another blanket around your legs, "people are going to think I'm incapable."
He looked up from where he'd been making sure your feet were warm.
"I don't."
"Then why won't you let me do anything?"
His expression softened.
"I will."
You blinked.
"The moment you actually need to."
You tilted your head.
"But right now..." His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers with his. "your body's working harder than it ever has."
His free hand drifted to your stomach, gently caressing.
"I can carry the groceries."
A small smile spread across your face.
"So can I."
"I know."
"I can still do laundry."
"I know."
"I can still..."
"You can do almost anything you want." His thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand. "But you don't have to."
Just then, a tiny flutter pressed against the palm resting on your stomach.
Xavier froze.
His eyes widened ever so slightly.
"Was, was that..?"
The baby kicked again.
It was as if he forgot to do anything else, and he could only stare at you in awe. Then the biggest smile you'd ever seen spread across his face. "They're saying hello." He said, moving his hand to wave at your stomach.
"I think they're telling you to stop fussing over me."
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead before resting his cheek lightly against your stomach.
"I make no promises."
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Zayne:
Dating a doctor had its advantages. It also meant there was absolutely no room for misinformation.
The moment the pregnancy test came back positive, Zayne had started a folder. Every ultrasound, every blood test, every appointment summary, every recommendation from your obstetrician, it was all meticulously organized.
"You made tabs?" you laughed one evening as he handed you the binder.
"They're color coded."
"Of course they are."
"They're chronological as well."
You couldn't help smiling. Only Zayne would turn pregnancy into a research project. Not that you minded. He read every new study he could find, always separating evidence from old wives' tales. If you had a question, he somehow already knew the answer.
When your cravings started, he never questioned them.
One night you woke him at nearly two in the morning.
"I need peaches."
He blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Fresh?"
You hesitated, imagining the taste in your mouth. "...Canned."
He nodded once. "I'll be back."
You caught his wrist before he could climb out of bed. "I was joking."
"You weren't."
"Okay, maybe not, but I don't actually need them. It's late, you need rest."
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know."
Fifteen minutes later, he returned with canned peaches, peach yogurt, peach juice, and even peach gummies.
"You bought every peach in Linkon."
"I prefer to be prepared."
You laughed, shaking your head. "You spoil me."
"I know."
It wasn't until your second trimester that he came home carrying a rather large box.
You looked up from the couch. "What's that?"
"A portable ultrasound."
You stared. "A what?"
He set the box on the coffee table before carefully unpacking it. "I've already spoken with your obstetrician. They approved it as long as we don't overuse it."
You looked between him and the machine. "You bought an ultrasound?"
"I did."
"For the house?"
"Yes."
Your mouth fell open, shocked.
"You don't like it?"
"No!" You laughed. "I just don't think anyone else gets a home ultrasound machine."
His expression remained perfectly serious. "You aren't anyone else."
Over the next several weeks, he taught you everything, how to apply the gel, how to angle the probe, what you were looking at on the screen.
"There."
He pointed gently. "That's the spine."
You squinted. "It looks like a tiny gummy bear."
"It does."
"And that's..."
He smiled. "Our baby waving."
Your heart swelled. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, and he squeezed yours, his attention never leaving the tiny image on the screen.
For once, there were no explanations. No medical terminology. No lectures. Just silence.
You glanced over and caught him smiling at the monitor. A smile you'd never seen on him, one of pure awe and love.
"You've seen thousands of ultrasounds," you whispered.
"I have."
"But this one is different?"
Finally, he looked at you. "I've spent my life watching other patients become parents."
His hand settled gently over yours. "This..." His eyes drifted back to the tiny heartbeat flickering on the screen. "this is the first time I've watched my own child grow."
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Rafayel:
Rafayel was absolutely certain the two of you were having the most beautiful baby in the world.
"Look at us," he said one afternoon as the two of you wandered through a baby boutique. "There was never any other possibility."
You laughed, bumping his shoulder.
"You are unbelievably humble."
"I am undeniably correct."
He held up the tiniest pair of shoes you'd ever seen and you couldn't help but smile at his excitement.
"Our child is going to look adorable in these."
"They won't fit for months."
"So?" He tucked them into the shopping basket anyway. "They're adorable."
Over the next few months, your apartment slowly transformed.
A crib appeared. Tiny clothes found their way into drawers. Stuffed animals somehow multiplied every time Rafayel left the house.
He claimed they simply "followed him home."
You stopped questioning it after the fifth one.
You found him one afternoon sitting in the nursery, paintbrush moving effortlessly across one wall as soft blues and golds slowly took shape beneath his hand.
"You've been in here all day."
"I have." He didn't look away from the mural. "I wanted it to be perfect."
You smiled, watching him add another careful stroke. "It already is."
For just a moment...His brush stopped. You frowned, confused at his hesitation.
"Raf?"
He was quiet.
"...What if they don't like it?"
You blinked.
"The mural?"
"No."
He finally turned toward you.
"What if I'm not..." His voice caught for the briefest moment. "...what they need?"
The question caught you completely off guard.
"If they need..?" You gently prompted him to continue.
He laughed softly, though it lacked its usual confidence.
"I've never done this before."
You crossed the room until you were standing beside him.
"You act like you're not scared."
"I know." His smile was small. "I thought if I sounded confident long enough..." He looked down at the tiny paint stains on his hands. "I'd eventually believe myself."
His admission of fear made your heart ache. You gently took his hand.
"You know what I think?"
He looked up.
"I think you're going to be the dad who paints bedtime stories instead of reading them."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"The one who lets them mix every color together because they're 'finding their artistic voice.'"
He laughed quietly.
"The one who hangs every scribbled drawing on the refrigerator like it's hanging in an art gallery."
His smile grew.
"And the one who's already spent three months making sure the nursery is perfect because you love this baby so much."
Rafayel's eyes glistened ever so slightly.
"I don't think someone like that needs to worry about whether they'll be enough."
Silence settled between you.
Then, very carefully, he rested his forehead against yours.
"I've spent my whole life creating beautiful things."
His hand slipped down to rest gently against your stomach.
"But somehow..."
A tiny kick met his palm. His eyes widened. Then he laughed.
"I think we've already made my masterpiece."
You smiled as he dropped to his knees, pressing a gentle kiss against your bump.
"Oh, cutie," he whispered with a grin. "You'd better have your mother's personality."
You raised an eyebrow.
"And why's that?"
He looked up at you, completely serious.
"Because if you inherit mine..." He sighed dramatically. "your poor mother is going to have two hopelessly dramatic people to deal with."
Your laughter filled the nursery.
And just like that, the worry disappeared again, replaced by the quiet excitement of a father who couldn't wait to meet the little life the two of you had created together.
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Sylus:
The first person to find out you were pregnant after Sylus wasn't Luke. Or Kieran.
It was Mephisto.
You had barely walked through the front doors of Onychinus when the mechanical crow landed on the arm of the couch beside you, tilting his head curiously toward your stomach.
"You've got to be kidding me," you laughed.
The bird let out a series of happy chirps before taking off down the hallway.
You frowned.
"Where's he going?" You thought out loud.
A loud crash echoed from somewhere deeper inside the base.
Then another.
A moment later, Luke came sprinting around the corner.
"Boss!"
Closely followed by Kieran.
"Is it true?"
Sylus hadn't even looked up from the paperwork on his desk.
"It would appear Mephisto has made the announcement for us."
Within seconds, the twins were talking over one another.
"I'm teaching the baby how to throw a punch."
"No, absolutely not. I'm teaching them card tricks."
"They're learning self-defense first."
"They're learning magic first."
"They're learning..."
"They're learning to let their parents make decisions." Sylus's calm interruption silenced them both.
For all of three seconds.
The next several months somehow became even more chaotic.
Everything a baby could ever need appeared in your room without explanation.
Luke insisted he'd found the "coolest baby blanket ever."
Kieran kept buying tiny shoes despite being reminded that newborns didn't walk.
And every few days, Mephisto proudly dropped another mysterious treasure into the nursery.
A shiny button.
A smooth stone.
Once, a stolen pacifier.
"...Where did he even get that?" you wondered aloud.
Sylus simply sighed.
"I've learned not to ask."
As your pregnancy progressed, simple things became harder.
Standing for long periods. Rolling over in bed. Walking after a particularly busy day. But you tried not to complain.
One evening, you were helping Luke and Kieran decorate the nursery when your lower back started to ache.
You shifted your weight.
Then again.
Sylus noticed quickly.
Without saying a word, he walked over behind you. One hand settled beneath your stomach. The other rested gently against your lower back.
He lifted, just enough to take some of the weight.
A relieved sigh escaped you before you could stop it.
"...Better?"
You nodded immediately.
"So much."
Luke stared.
"...Boss."
"What?"
"I didn't know you could do that."
Sylus raised an eyebrow.
"Neither did I."
You laughed softly as you leaned back against him, letting him continue supporting your bump.
"I didn't realize how heavy they were getting."
"You've been carrying them all day."
His voice was matter-of-fact, as though that explained everything.
"I can carry them for a while."
Your eyes stung unexpectedly.
"You do so much for me."
"I know."
"You never complain."
"Why would I?"
His hands never left their place.
"This is my child."
Then, after the briefest pause,
"And I love you."
He rested his chin lightly against your shoulder. "Taking care of you isn't a chore." His thumb traced slow circles against the side of your stomach. "It's a privilege."
As though they understood they were being talked about, the baby kicked.
Sylus chuckled quietly.
Luke gasped.
"They're kicking!"
Kieran was already kneeling beside you.
"Hi, little one! It's Uncle Kieran."
"No, it's Uncle Luke first!"
The two immediately began bickering again.
You looked up at Sylus, unable to stop smiling.
Your family had always been small.
Now, somehow, it had never felt bigger.
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Caleb:
Caleb had been talking to the baby since the day you found out. He claimed it was important for them to recognize his voice.You claimed they couldn't even hear him yet.
"Details."
"They're very important details."
He simply rested his hand against your stomach anyway.
"Hi, Pipsqueak," he said with a grin.
You looked down at him.
"...You know we can't both be called Pipsqueak."
"Sure you can."
"We'll never know which one we're talking to."
"You'll figure it out."
You laughed, shaking your head.
"You've put absolutely no thought into this."
"I've put lots of thought into it."
"Oh?"
"I've also considered Little Pip."
You groaned dramatically.
"I am not letting you name our child that"
He looked genuinely disappointed.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Fine."
He sighed as though you'd crushed his dreams.
"I guess I'll keep brainstorming."
You rolled your eyes affectionately before reaching for his hand.
"You are unbelievable."
"I've been told."
The months passed quickly.
Every little milestone seemed to unlock another childhood memory.
When you felt the first kick, Caleb immediately started talking about how you'd kicked him in the ribs once during a nap when you were little.
When you bought the baby's first blanket, he insisted it looked exactly like one you'd carried everywhere as a child.
"You dragged it through every puddle you could find."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I think you're making this up."
"I'm not."
"You have no proof."
He laughed and nearly dropped the tiny onesie he'd been folding. "I don't need proof."
Later that evening, you found him alone in the nursery.
The crib had finally been put together.
Tiny clothes hung neatly in the closet.
A rocking chair sat in the corner.
Caleb stood in the middle of the room, quietly looking around.
"You okay?" you asked.
He looked over his shoulder.
"...Yeah."
But his smile looked different. Softer.
You walked over, slipping your hand into his.
"What are you thinking about?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I keep remembering you."
You tilted your head.
"When we were little."
His thumb brushed gently across the back of your hand.
"You were always following me around."
You laughed.
"I was not."
"You absolutely were."
"I was independent."
"You cried because I went to summer camp for three days."
"That was one time."
"It was adorable."
You nudged his shoulder.
"You still haven't answered my question."
His eyes wandered back to the crib.
"I just..."
He let out a quiet breath.
"It feels like yesterday you were that little."
Your heart melted.
"And now..."
He looked down at your stomach before smiling to himself.
"...my Pipsqueak is having a Pipsqueak."
The words hung softly between you.
"I don't know where the time went."
You reached up, cupping his cheek.
"You know they're going to adore you."
"I hope so."
"They already do."
As though on cue, the baby gave a firm kick beneath your hand.
Caleb's eyes widened.
"There it is again."
He dropped to his knees without hesitation, resting both hands against your stomach.
"Hey, little Pip," he whispered.
"You be nice to your mama, okay?"
You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair.
"They're probably kicking because they already know you're talking."
"I'd like to think they're saying hi."
He looked up at you, his eyes impossibly warm.
"I've spent my whole life looking after you."
His smile softened even more.
"I think I'm going to like looking after the two of you even more."
And in that moment, surrounded by tiny clothes, half-built toys, and the future the two of you had dreamed of, home had never felt so full.
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Valko:
Pregnancy had done something very strange to Valko. It had turned an already meticulous scientist into, into whatever this was.
"You bought another blanket."
He didn't even look up from the shopping bag he was unpacking.
"It's different."
You blinked.
"It's beige."
"The other one was cream."
You stared at him.
"They're different."
"They're both fluffy."
"They're different kinds of fluffy."
You couldn't help laughing.
Over the past few months, your home had slowly filled with things neither of you had intentionally bought.
Soft blankets draped over every chair.
Tiny socks tucked neatly into drawers.
An emergency diaper bag.
A second emergency diaper bag.
A third emergency diaper bag that he insisted would stay in the car.
"Valko."
"Hm?"
"How many diapers does one newborn need?"
His expression remained perfectly serious.
"I'd rather have too many than not enough."
"You bought enough to raise triplets."
"You never know."
You walked over, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"We're only having one."
"So far."
You laughed so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes.
"I love that your reasonable brain completely disappears when it comes to this baby."
"It doesn't disappear."
"Oh?"
"It simply..." He considered his words carefully. "prioritizes different variables."
You smiled.
"Uh huh."
"It does."
You reached into one of the shopping bags, pulling out an impossibly tiny sleepsuit.
As you unfolded it, Valko quietly took it from your hands. Without thinking, he brought it closer, pausing for just a moment before carefully folding it again.
You watched him.
"...Did you just smell it?"
His ears immediately flushed pink.
"No."
"You absolutely did."
"I was checking the fabric."
"With your nose?"
"Maybe..."
A grin spread across your face.
"You've been scenting the baby's clothes."
His embarrassment only deepened.
"It's instinct."
"I know."
"I can't exactly explain it."
"You don't have to."
He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I just..."
His voice softened.
"I want everything around our pup to smell like home."
Your heart melted.
"Our pup?"
He froze.
"I said that out loud."
"You did."
A bashful smile tugged at his lips.
"I suppose I did."
You stepped closer, resting one of his hands against your stomach.
The baby shifted almost immediately.
His entire face lit up.
"They're awake."
"They always seem to be when you're talking."
He smiled to himself, absentmindedly rubbing gentle circles over your bump.
"I've been reading another paper."
You laughed.
"Of course you have."
"It said babies can recognize their parents' voices before they're born."
"So you've been talking to them on purpose?"
"Absolutely."
You smiled warmly.
"I think they already know who their dad is."
He looked down at your stomach before leaning forward, pressing a gentle kiss against it.
"I hope so."
Then his expression shifted ever so slightly. That quiet, protective edge you had come to know so well. His arm instinctively settled around your waist as he guided you toward the couch.
"You've been standing too long."
"I've been standing for five minutes."
"Exactly."
"I am perfectly capable of," you started but he cut you off immediately.
"I know."
His voice was warm, but left very little room for argument.
"But if I can make things easier for you..." He helped you sit before kneeling in front of you. "...why wouldn't I?"
You threaded your fingers through his hair.
"You know," you teased softly, "you're nesting."
He frowned.
"I am not."
"You've reorganized the nursery three times."
"It wasn't efficient."
"You alphabetized the baby's books."
"They're easier to find."
"You scented their clothes."
"..."
"You bought seven blankets."
"They're seven different blankets."
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
Valko sighed dramatically before resting his forehead against your bump.
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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sylus x cat owner reader whose senior cat is an enigma to him. he spoils you, so of course he'll also spoil your entitled old kitty, but he can't quite figure out what she wants.
he buys her the nicest treats. she begs for ham from the lunchmeat drawer of the fridge instead.
he buys her the flashiest toys. she bats around cotton swabs and tin foil balls instead.
he buys her the softest cat bed. she likes to sleep on whatever clothes are laying on the floor instead.
he buys- and assembles!- the best cat tree on the market, only for her to be fascinated by its box instead.
sylus is stumped- until he's at your place when a new pair of shoes he ordered for you arrives, and you stop to play with the bubble wrap instead of going straight for the shoes, and he finally realizes where your cat learned it from.
note: This took a long time, but I hope you enjoy.
𝒲 fluff, comfort, reader being in her letual phase
The bedroom was dimly lit from the TV, the movie scenes creating dim-colored shadows on your face. Your boyfriend, Valko, rested near you on your left—no words exchanged.
You may have been a little rude to him yesterday, but in your defense, he was bothering you all day with a limitless supply of horrible dad jokes. But now that it's the next day, you know why.
He noticed and was trying to make you feel better. And that made you feel so much worse.
You gnawed at your dry lips, feeling the familiar sting of tears. You force yourself to speak.
"Valko?" Your voice wobbled, hesitant. You watched as his eyes flicked from the screen to you.
"Hm?"
"…Do you still love me?" You said warily.
Valko visibly tensed—his ears perked up—and discarded what he was doing before turning his body to you and giving you his full attention, his tail wagging behind him.
Your heart dropped from its place. Why did you say that? You shouldn't have said that—you should've just stayed quiet. Now, you're embarrassed by how pathetic and desperate you sound.
As you went to sit up—most likely to run away from him—Valko's palm clasped around your wrist and pulled you back down, pinning you with his leg on top of yours. "No, you don't; you're staying right here."
"I can never hate you, even if I wanted to, got it?" He wiped a stray tear from your rosy cheek.
You frowned. "But I was being so rude."
Valko thought for a moment and nodded, smirking faintly. "Yeah, you were pretty rude yesterday, and you do owe me an apology. " He teased, but you took it seriously.
Shame washed over you, and you nodded. Too caught up in your determination to fix the situation, you completely missed your boyfriend's small grin.
You sat up quickly and turned to him, clutching the collarbone of his pajama shirt. "Koko, I'm so sorry. You were just trying to make me feel better, and I was stupid not to see that from the beginning." Your voice shook, replaying the moment he looked shocked when you snapped at him.
Your emotions were like two handfuls of tangled wires lately, and you were stuck in them like a moth in a spider's web.
As you apologized, Valko stayed silent, his golden yellow eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes. Of course he was listening, but he was also gazing at the flush of your cheeks, your red-rimmed eyes, the strand that just fell down your face, and your tear-painted lips.
He already knew why you were upset, as your scent had given you away, but he will let you talk for as long as you want if it means he gets to keep you like this for just a little longer.
"I didn't mean to, honest, and—"
He chuckled heartily and smirked, sneakily leaning up and stealing a kiss as you were in mid-sentence. His large hands slowly snaked up to your waist and gripped it firmly as he turned you so that he was now on top.
"I already know, Angel. Besides, I was just messing with you—I didn't want an apology, but it was still nice to hear anyway." He grinned unapologetically, his canines fully showing.
You faltered, mouth slightly agape. "What, you knew why I was frustrated this whole time?"
"Of course, did you forget I can smell everything about you?" He tilted his head questioningly, one of his ears moving up while the other stayed down.
"…Oh yeah."
Valko snorted in amusement and ruffled your hair, messing it up.
"Hey!" You instantly smooth down your hair. "So, I don't understand. If you knew the reason why I was upset, then why didn't you talk to me all day?"
"Because you needed space."
You let out a breath of relief. So, he didn't avoid you because he thought your attitude was disgusting and that you stank? The harsh whispers in your mind quietened at the reveal. "So…will you forgive me?"
"I was never mad at you to begin with, short stack." He nuzzled his nose against your cheek in content, taking in your scent in the process as his fluffy tail rested against your thigh.
You loved him so much, and you were very lucky to have a wolf as your boyfriend that could understand you with just your scent alone.
Along the blackwater coast of Romirro, people whisper about the Lemurians—the beautiful strangers said to emerge from the sea wearing human shapes. Legends say they come ashore seeking humans, whether as meal or more, no one knows for certain. What is certain, however, is that they always find the exhausted, the indebted, or the heartbroken first. According to folklore, the Lemurians never drag anyone beneath the waves by force. Instead, they court their chosen for months or years, until the sea begins to feel more inviting than the land ever was.
You think you know what is happening, then, when the most handsome man you've ever seen washes ashore after a storm.
This is your family's hardest year yet, and somehow, despite the unlikeliness of the tide, he's deposited along the shallow pools where you and your sister gather shellfish. Water pools too enticingly in the hollow of his throat, beads along his long lashes, glittering against his pale skin. You do not trust the look of him. But your sister is already halfway in love with him, and cannot bear to leave him behind.
So you take him home, hoping that you are wrong.
You nurse him back from the state the sea left him in, careful not to let your sister go too near. Her fantastical, romantic waxings in the warmth of your hut have you almost believing you were too quick to draw conclusions about him. She is a year younger than you, in ways that feel more like a thousand years sometimes, but the naiveté and idealism of her world view make you want to believe the world can like be that too. You hope she is right, and he is just a beautiful man.
But then he wakes, and you are all too certain he isn't.
His eyes fix too readily on you when he opens them, his attention too immediate and precise. He is too interested in you when he recovers enough to speak—and repeats your name in a way that makes a shiver slink down your spine.
He tells you his name is Rafayel, and he's been shipwrecked. When pressed, however, he cannot name his home port, the name of his ship, or any of his crewmates. The memory of what they were carrying is conveniently lost to the tides. He is too empty of anything except the sea, you think, and you watch him as closely as he watches you.
Your sister is entranced and enthralled with him. You should feel relief that his attention does not linger on her the same way hers lingers on him. But you cannot, with Rafayel inside your home, asking after you instead, your habits, your likes and dislikes. He's come ashore for something, you know, and you do not intend for him to find it in your home.
You watch him carefully, and when he is well enough, you cajole him outside with a request for help gathering shellfish. You lead him back down to the tidepools, a large bucket clutched in hand. You are apprehensive that he will catch on to your plan so you move slowly, try to turn back to him often, tipping your face up to his. You find yourself doing it almost too willingly, reluctant to tear your eyes away from him.
You turn your face up to his again as you make it to the tidepools, and Rafayel steps closer this time. His mouth lingers over yours, his body so close, the promise of something slipping between you. His eyes glint blue like the sea, and you almost forget yourself for a minute as his mouth lowers to yours.
It's half and accident when you overturn your bucket of collected rainwater between you.
But Rafayel's face changes immediately as he takes a shocked step back, and it's then that you know for sure.
Harbor folklore says Lemurians cannot pursue someone across running fresh water. And Rafayel stumbles back, long eyelashes fluttering as he stares at you in stunned disbelief. The tide laps angrily at his heels, suddenly growing discontent, roiling like a pot over the fire.
He says your name, sweet and entreating.
But you turn and leave before your small, freshwater stream can run its course into the sea. You will hang braided eelgrass across your door tonight, and burn peat in the hearth, so that he cannot get in again. You tell him as much as you clamber back up the shoreline to safety, tell him he is wasting his time on you.
But what you do not know is that once a Lemurian falls truly fond of someone, they become dangerously patient. He will wait, like the tide that keeps arriving, until the shore gives way grain by grain, and little by little slides into the waiting sea.
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You stop in your tracks. Your bewildered gaze meets with Sylus' scrutinizing one, his eye already glowing subtly at the mere notion of someone hurting you.
"What are you talking about?" you ask, brows knitting together, mouth opening slightly in your astonishment.
"Your neck," he says slowly, like he's holding back anger simmering beneath his skin. "it's full of bruises."
You only frown deeper at his words. Hands now shoot up to press and prod at the skin of your neck, and sure enough, you winced when you felt some pain. Throat bobbing and breath stuttering in your throat.
"Must've grabbed it too hard," your nonchalant reply has Sylus raising a brow, as he watches you go back to whatever you were doing.
"Grabbed too hard?" he parrots, sounding unconvinced, but doesn't pry further. Instead, he takes a seat next to you, quiet. He just watches for a moment, his eyes trained on the discolored, down right purple patches on your neck. Was this a regular habit of yours?
"Do you always hurt yourself like this?"
The question is slow whenever it leaves him, the tone of it enough to make you stop. It's not even that. Well not just that. It's the note of concern that rings far too clear, the slight squint of his eyes.
"It isn't on purpose," you begin, jumping to assuage his worries, "Just a. . . nervous tick, I suppose. I didn't want to keep picking at my nails when I got mad, nervous or frustrated. So I started grabbing my neck."
"Grabbing and choking are completely different, kitten." He says, firm but gentle. This bad habit of yours ringing alarm bells in his mind.
Before you could muster out a retort, you feel the warmth of his hand engulfing yours. It's comforting and puts you at ease instantly, bringing your gaze up to his.
"The next time you feel the need to grab something in times of duress," he lifts your hand, taking the slightest nip at your skin, then proceeding to soothe it with a kiss, "I'm always available."
🌷 NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR
Sylus my darling dragon. Also as I'm writing this, I'm imagining dragon Sylus wrapping his tail around your hand to prevent you from grabbing at your neck hehehehwjwh. Yes this is self-indulgent and I am projecting, what's it to you 😠 /j
LaDS men with a reader that feels super guilty for wanting/needing anything at all? Like, even wanting to be loved on by her boyfriend gives her crushing guilt (hurt/comfort if u don't mind it 🫶🏾)
Author’s Note: Since I can't tag your dear follower/reader, I hope you see this post. 🤞 I'm not sure if I've managed to capture your request to its fullest, but I did my best. 🫣
Pairing: all LI separately (including Valko) x reader/non-MC
You sit in the living room, hunched over your desk, fingers flying across your laptop's keyboard. The deadline is closing in, and you've been working for hours without a break. As a copy editor, you're grateful you can work from home.
In the bedroom, your boyfriend, Xavier, is asleep. He only returned earlier today from a weeklong mission, utterly exhausted. The last thing you want is to wake him. You keep the lamp dim, your earphones in, and every movement as quiet as possible.
Then, without warning, your laptop screen goes black.
“Oh, no.”
“No... no, no, no.”
Panic flares in your chest.
“Please…”
Your hands dart across the keyboard, pressing random keys. Nothing.
All those hours of work. Unsaved.
Your stomach drops.
You stare at the bedroom door.
Standing, you move and crack the bedroom door open just enough to peek inside.
Xavier is still asleep.
You slip into the room and carefully climb onto the bed. The mattress sinks ever so slightly beneath your weight.
“Xavier…” you whisper, “...Xavier. Please wake up.”
You gently shake his shoulder.
He stirs, blinking a few times before rubbing the sleep from one eye.
“Starlight…” His voice is rough and deeper from sleep. “What's wrong?”
“My laptop…” Your voice trembles. “It... it crashed. I don't know what happened.”
You swallow hard. “My work…”
The concern in your voice wipes away the last traces of sleep. Without a single complaint, Xavier sits up, gets out of bed, and makes his way into the living room.
“Let's have a look,” he says, settling into your chair.
You linger several feet behind him, fidgeting on the spot.
A few moments later—
“There.”
The screen flickers back to life.
You let out the breath you'd been holding and step closer.
“The battery died.” He glances up at you with a small smile. “You forgot to plug it in.”
Your face pales.
“I'm... I'm so sorry.” The words tumble out. “I woke you up for something this stupid.”
Your voice cracks. “I'm such an idiot.”
Xavier stands and gently pulls you into his arms before you can say anything else.
“Hey, starlight.”
“It's okay.”
You bury your face against his chest, unable to meet his eyes.
His fingers trace slow circles along your back.
“You can come to me for the big things, the little things, and even the things that turn out to be nothing at all. That's what I'm here for.”
You shake your head against him.
“I don't deserve you.”
“You don't have to earn the right to need me, Starlight.”
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I cant even go and see some street food trucks without their damn menus having AI images on it. you have a camera. take photos of your goddamn food. I would rather see a photo of the most weirdly lit burger than the fake monstrosity you're showing me.
Cotton-Tails & Comfort: Wolf!Valko x Rabbit!Reader
Synopsis: Valko shows you exactly why you chose the big dumb dog to be your mate.
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, Hybrid AU, Fluff.
The sleek, black town car rolls to a stop in the driveway of the penthouse, its tinted windows reflecting the city lights. Valko steps out, loosening the tie around his neck with one hand while the other tugs at the stiff collar of his dress shirt. His burgundy wolf ears twitch under the dim glow of the outside light, picking up the faintest rustle of fabric inside.
He pushes the door open quietly. The furniture is basked in the low light from the nearby kitchen. Yet it’s too quiet. The scent of chamomile and honey, your scent, lingers in the air. But you smell…scared. His tail stiffens, muscles tensing as his golden eyes scan the empty living room. The plush nesting blankets you’ve been obsessively rearranging for weeks are rumpled but vacant. The half-finished cup of raspberry leaf tea sits cold on the coffee table.
His claws unsheathe just slightly, retracting again as he forces himself to exhale. "Bunny?" he calls out. There’s no answer.
The bedroom is silent when he walks in. The bed is completely made from where it was when he left his morning. You’d handed him his coffee, kissed his nose and shooed him off to work. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, but then he hears a noise. His eyes dart towards the sound.
The walk-in closet.
He pads forward, nostrils flaring. Your heartbeat is a rapid flutter, and beneath it, the steady drum of the pups (even though you insist he call them kits) kicking impatiently against your ribs.
He nudges the door open with his knee. There you are, curled into a defensive ball between his winter coats, fingers knotted in the fabric. Your bunny ears press flat against your skull, eyes wide. His chest tightens. "There you are," he murmurs, crouching, tail sweeping the floor to balance himself. "Did the city noises scare you again?"
Your round, glistening eyes flicker like a startled deer’s, first to the open window where the city hums too loudly, then to the shadows stretching too long across the walls, before finally landing on him. The weight of the pups presses low and heavy in your belly, your body curled protectively around them, fingers digging into the folds of your oversized sweater as if you could shield them from the world. They move restlessly under your touch, a ripple against your skin that makes your breath hitch.
Valko’s nostrils flair. The way you’re folded in on yourself makes the swell of your pregnancy even more pronounced, your frame nearly swallowed by the life you’re carrying. You’ve always been fairly skittish. You dart from loud noises. Or go wide eyed if he sets down a plate too loud. In your pregnancy, it’s gotten even worse.
Oh, the mighty Chairman of EonCore Tech, the brilliant mind behind revolutionary biotechnology, reduced to...this.
His voice melts into syrupy and warmth, syllables rounded like he's talking to something precious and breakable. "There's my sweet bun," he coos, ears perking forward as his tail starts an embarrassingly enthusiastic sweep across the floor. "Did the city get too loud? Too scratchy for bunny ears?" He inches closer, still giving you space, but his posture has completely collapsed from its usual predatory grace. Now he's all awkward, wagging limbs and dopey smiles behind those sharp teeth. His glasses have slid down the slope of his nose, yellow eyes almost glowing in the dark.
One big hand rubs at the back of his neck, it’s a nervous tic you’ve seen in board meetings. "Wanna make a blanket pile right here? Steal all my fancy shirts for the nest? I'll—" He leans forward. Your nose twitches in curiosity and you even lean towards him. His voice drops to a whisper. "I'll even let you nibble the expensive ones." His golden eyes crinkle at the corners. The mighty wolf, brought low by the sight of his pregnant mate looking even slightly less tense.
His ears suddenly flick upright as one of the pups kicks hard enough to make you jolt. His entire face lights up. "Was that—? Oh! Oh, they're playing footsie in there, aren't they? Little troublemakers," he giggles, the sound absurdly boyish coming from a man with a voice that usually makes lab interns faint.
He scoots just close enough to press his palms gently against your belly, his nose scrunching with delight. "You're growing champion kickers, sweetheart. Future strikers. Or—or tiny boxers! Bet they get that from me."
You should laugh at the way he’s hunched beside you now. All 6’2 of his folded like a lawn chair just to make himself look smaller for you.
Your bunny ears twitch slightly as you peek up at him through your lashes, comforted by his silly grin and wagging tail. Your voice comes out small, muffled into your knees at first.
“The... the garbage trucks were too loud today," you admit, fingers nervously plucking at the fabric of your sweater. “And the construction down the street. It kept rattling the windows."
Valko hums along, making mental notes. He nods seriously, like this is critical intel, and you can practically see him mentally plotting revenge against the noisy city outside.
Then, hesitantly, you uncurl just a little, one hand smoothing over the curve where a pup presses stubbornly against your ribs. "I, um... I folded all the baby clothes. Twice." You chew on your swollen lower lip. “And then unfolded them to refold them neater. And—" Your nose scrunches, ears drooping slightly. "I... might have chewed on the corner of that fluffy blanket you bought. Just a little."
His entire face lights up with pure delight. He gasps, actually gasps, like you've just revealed the most impressive feat in the world.
“You nest-engineered AND did quality testing on the blankets?! “ He gasps, pressing a proud kiss to your forehead. “Bunny, you're working harder than my entire R&D department. You are an absolute genius." His tail thumps against the floor again, his hands hovering like he’s physically restraining himself from smothering you in affection too fast. “Next time, I’m bringing you blueprints to nibble too. Get your expert opinion."
And just like that, the world feels a little quieter, a little safer, because your big, ridiculous wolf makes it so.
vaporwave
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
