Valko who loves how you smell! He robbed a tshirt of yours to use as a pillow cover, rotating it when necessary. Extra points if its from after an intense training or workout or just a warm day outside
Valko who does NOT fit in your clothes but desperately tries to, squishing his arms into one of your hoodies
Valko who, when the wolf instincts take over, has a pair of your panties stuffed into his nose, his hips rutting into the mattress, whining and moaning your name
Valko who appears .5 seconds after a shower, slotting his head into your freshly damp neck to leave a little bit of him there (and to enjoy your smell)
Valko who will never turn down an excuse to touch you, shoulders bumping into you as you both sit in the diner in the same booth, sitting too close on a couch that could fit at least 4 people
Valko who understands when you need space and will give you time, but nonchalantly scoots by your legs and sits in your general vicinity (he tests this a lot by kinda gauging your mood with how close he can get)
Valko who hates when you come home smelling like random, strange scents but swoons when you immediately undress and throw on one of his shirts to get comfy
Valko who asks for cuddles whenever hes stressed or pent up, your scent relaxes him. Whenever you're gone, he is RAIDING your drawers and hamper (which will neatly all be put back before your return)
Valko whose eyes roll back into his skull when you grind against his face where your scent is so strong, it'll literally make him cum untouched because how is he NOT supposed to love you marking him up like that???
the fact that valko adores slapping the smooth skin on your plush thighs when he fucks deep into you, more than anything on planet earth.
he can't help but to constantly spank your curvy ass or boobs and just stare, watching the fat jiggle as if it's the most interesting show to ever exist.
valko squeezes them too and he's definitely a sucker for the way you feel underneath his fingers. though, he believes smacking them lightly is extremely entertaining because he gets to hear you softly hiss and moan for him once his calloused hand hits your body.
sometimes it'll even make him halt right in the middle of the lewd dirty talk that he's mindlessly spouting, exhale, and just watch silently.
Friends to lovers Valko 💚💚 wrote this while I was bored and it is for sure not my best work
Valko has access to your apartment when you're away (since he comes in through the balcony)
He immediately throws himself onto your bed, sniffing to his hearts content.
Once he's done there, he wanders into your kitchen, raiding the cabinets or the fridge for chocolate milk cartons (that you now have written on your grocery list.. as a weekly restock) or any chocolate flavored things
He grabs his carton and frowns at how empty the fridge is otherwise? He immediately ordered groceries on his phone, deciding to stock it while he downs 3 little cartons of milk
He throws himself onto the couch while waiting for you to come home, forgetting he should probably text you that hes here, but he was so excited to see you after his shift that he just ran over.
The second hes about to send over a message, he hears the door lock click, his ears turning towards the sound.
You heave a loud sigh as you turn the door, trudging into your apartment and gasping when you see a large man on your couch. "You can't keep scaring me like that Val. I told you to text next time!" You laughed, zero threat in your words.
He walked over and scooped you off your feet, making you gasp and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. He hums and flashes you a grin, walking you both to the couch and depositing you on his lap.
It is a little weird that Valko does this as your friend, but you can't complain when your legs were screaming for a break. Valko immediately rubs his chin all over your head, leaving his scent on you.
"Yeah yeah pup," he murmurs into your hair. "How was work today?" You hummed a noncommittal answer. Sometimes, the fact that Valko was all over you was a bit jarring, but you blamed the werewolf stuff. And you've been starved of affection, so you're not exactly against it.
"What about you? How was work today?" You looked up, smiling. "Easy. Just haven't seen ya in a while."
He frowned and worry panged in your chest. "Whats wrong?"
"Why is your fridge empty?" His eyes glanced to the fridge then returned to you.
"Oh, I've just been too busy to go grocery shopping." You laugh it off, ignoring your heart hammering as he squeezes you.
The doorbell rings and he immediately stands up with you securely in his arms. "What is that?"
"Groceries, pup. We both need to eat something, and if I starve, I might eat you."
You laughed and smacked him on the chest. He transferred you into a one handed grip with ease, opening the door and grabbing groceries. "You can put me down, Val. I won't run away, I promise."
"Mmm, indulge me for a bit, yeah?" He gave you genuine puppy eyes, withering away your resolve.
A sigh escaped your lips and you planted your chin on his shoulder. "I guess I'll get babied by a huge wolf man. My hands are tied, truly." You felt a laugh rumble from his chest as he was putting all the food away.
He smelled good. Always like his woody, earthy cologne with a hint of salt. Absentmindedly, your nose pressed into his neck, a content hum escaping you unconsciously. He froze instantly, his entire body getting stiff.
Your eyes snapped open and apologies were flying out of your mouth immediately. "Oh my god I'm so sorry Val, that was so creepy of me, you just smelled really good n'" he was looking everywhere but you. His face was red, his tail wagging slowly behind him.
"'S okay pup, I might just put ya down for a sec-" his hands started slipping you down until you felt it. Something hard pressed into your hip, then your feet hit the floor quickly.
He turned his body until his back was facing you as he studied the contents of your fridge very intensely.
His tail was still wagging slowly as you stood there, frozen. A sudden wave of confidence hit you because his body was saying a LOT more than he would've admitted. "Val?"
His ears turned towards you, but his body was stock still. "Yea?"
"Turn around please."
"I don't think thats such a good idea right now Pup,"
"Please turn around."
He could never deny you, but god this was embarrassing. He slowly turned towards you, eyes on the ceiling in shame. "I'm so sorry, just know that I completely respect ya and I don't wanna ruin the relationshi-" Your palm lands on his chest, moving side to side in a petting motion. "Shhh, Val, its slright."
Standing on your toes, your lips peck his cheek and his tail starts thumping against the fridge door. His hands frame your face, a notable tremble in them. "Can I?" His eyes are staring at your lips, very clear about his intent. You nod minutely, stance firm.
Without a warning, he presses his lips to yours hard, teeth clacking with yours. A loud groan echoes between both of you. You pull back for a second and he chases you immediately until you put a hand on his mouth. He whines, huffing out a breath. "Sorry, did I hurt ya-"
"No Val. I liked it! Lets just start a teensy bit slower."
His cheeks were flaming red. "'M sorry, I've never done this before." Your eyes went wide. "Like. A kiss?" He nods. "Everything."
Your hands gently bring him towards you again, pressing your lips into his. The thumping of his tail gets louder as you two continue to kiss. However, his strong hands start to grip your hips tighter and your hands roam up to his hair, lightly tugging.
Valko walks you back into the wall, huffing into your mouth while low whines leave his throat, unable to get enough of you.
Your hands slide down his toned chest, appreciating every muscle and ridge down to where his belt is. He detaches from your lips, panting into your neck as he recovers. He was drowning and had no intention of saving himself.
You tugged on his pants hard, pulling him impossibly closer and mumbled "'s okay?"
He pressed open mouth kisses and licks on your neck, nodding excitedly. "y' don't have to pup, is okay just wanna-"
Your hand interrupts his train of thoughts as you cup him through his trousers, a rough heave coming out of him. His hands tremble, itching to move. "Wanna touch ya, please pup I'll do anythin,". You huffed a laugh and nodded. His hands slowly explored your body, noting the places that made you gasp, melt or jump.
Meanwhile you were spurred on by the panting, horny wolf above you. Your hands dipped into his briefs, gripping his cock. He let out a broken moan into your neck, squeezing you hard.
You couldnt even wrap your hand around it fully. You gasped, "Val.. youre huge.."
His hips bucked into your soft hands, drool starting to drip out of the side of his lips. "Y' hands are so warm n sof-hnngh". He started a steady rhythm of grinding into your hand, heat seeping into your lower body.
"Pup, 'm gonna -ngh so c-close," he whined into your ear.
You pressed harder into his cock, wedging your knee upwards to help him out. "Haaah- cum-ngh ing.."
A low growl rumbled out of his throat as his cum covered your hand and seeped into his clothes.
He mumbled "thank yous" into your hair, pressing kisses all over the crown of your head. "Mmm.."
With your clean hand, you bring his neck down to you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Valko melted into it, body covering you against the wall.
A wolfish grin graced his face. "Can I return the favor, pup?"
Roommate! Valko’s heightened senses leave you no privacy.
Part 2 coz of popular demand 👅, find part 1 here
NSFW, minors DNI
You couldn’t have imagined this happening in a million years.
With your roommate’s cock on full display before you, springing up to hit his belly button the second it was freed from its confines, you would have easily mistaken the mouth-watering sight for a dream.
Then Valko tapped the head against your clit, pulling you back to reality, sending a delicious shiver running up both your spines at the bare contact. He smirked down at you, eyebrows raised.
“Giving out already?”
“N-No.”
But all you could focus on was how thick his dick looked. The fat mushroom head looked like it could impale you, making your throat go bone dry. You were definitely going to have to put in work to take all of that.
“Good. Eyes on me now, pup.”
He grabbed your thighs, yanking them up into a mean mating press. He leaned in impossibly close, claiming your lips in a feverish kiss– dizzying enough that you almost missed his cock pressing up against your folds.
Almost. There was no mistaking the way his massive length began to split your tiny hole apart. But just as he caught against your tight ring and started to push through, his tip slipped, sliding forward to drag over your clit instead.
“Fuck,” Valko groaned under his breath, losing his mind at the way your bare pussy felt against him. He knew he was fucked when he thought about the real deal gripping him instead.
“C'mon babygirl, I know you can take it. F'me, pretty please?”
He sounded so sweet you could've mistaken him for a kid asking for candy, except he didn't give you a choice. Grabbing the base of his dick, he forcefully sank into your pussy while the poor thing struggled and stretched to take him in fully.
You tried to ground yourself by gripping his shoulders, nails dragging against his skin and probably drawing blood.
Right as you felt his blunt tip grazing your cervix, you were sure you couldn't take any more. A whimper caught in Valko's throat, but somehow, he managed to push even deeper, driving past your limit. With one last thrust, he bottomed out completely, leaving you both moaning into each other's mouths at the feeling.
He cradled the back of your head, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good job, baby.”
A sharp squeal tore from your throat as he suddenly rammed into you hard.
“S-sorry, I couldn't help myself. You just- fuck. You feel too good.”
He couldn't get enough of it. Barely giving you time to adjust, his hips started moving on their own, snapping into your wet heat. Your body would have been thrown back if not for his unyielding grip pinning you to him. “ Take it–.You did this on purpose, didn’t you, pup? Wanted my attention, wanted me to ruin this perfect little cunt.”
Valko's filthy words did more to you than you’d care to admit, pussy involuntarily clenching around him.
You heard his breath hitch, hips stuttering, "Shit, do that again."
And he snapped into you even harsher, "Do that again," he snarled, repeating himself, getting desperate with the way he rutted into you.
And that was your final undoing, and your body went limp. He groaned as your pussy impossibly tightened around him. He held you through it, watching you babble nonsense while your sticky release dripped down where you were connected.
And this also sent Valko over the edge, teeth gritting together as his dick pulsed inside you, shooting his hot load in ropes.
And before you could register it, you felt something bulbous at the base of his cock press up against your already struggling hole.
Your eyebrows scrunched together, confused at the foreign feeling.
fluff - shy!reader - not gender specific - use of the pet name "pancake" - one smau at the start but the rest is regular text
You stared at your phone screen for the nth time, the conversation stirring up butterflies in your stomach as you read it again and again.
It wasn't the first time Valko came over, of course, but it was his first time spending the night since you started dating, and that made things different.
Before, you used to pet his ears and play-fight with him without issue, but now, every touch and every held gaze made you nervous and jittery. You knew it made no sense, but you couldn't help it.
So, you were steeling yourself for his visit, mentally preparing for the shared night together while repeating "We're just sleeping, that's it".
There was a knock at the door. You jolted, your phone stumbling from hand to hand until it landed on the carpet. Picking it up and leaving it on the coffee table, you made your way to the door with a deep breath.
The instant you opened it, you were greeted with Valko's brighter-than-the-sun smile and his tail wagging so hard behind him that his hips swayed.
"Hello, sleepyhead. Were you napping while you waited for me?"
He had a gym bag with his things hanging on his shoulder, but he was wearing his 'pajamas' already; a matching t-shirt and shorts, hidden partially by a hoodie. He probably hadn't wanted to change clothes since he was about to sleep anyway.
You smiled at him, letting him in and closing the door.
"No, I wasn't. I was... scrolling through Tumblr. Figured it wouldn't be worth it to try to sleep for such a short while."
You watched as he kicked off his trainers and pulled his hoodie above his head, the t-shirt underneath riding up and exposing his midriff and happy trail. You looked away at the floor as if electrocuted.
"Was the ride here okay? Weren't you too sleepy to drive?" You distracted yourself with questions.
"Don't sweat it, pancake, I took a cab," he stepped closer and leaned down, "It's cute that you're worryin' about me, but can I get a proper greeting with a kiss and a hug?"
"Right, yeah, of course!"
You felt your cheeks warm up as your arms circled his neck, his own coming up around your waist to lift you up into his embrace, nuzzling your neck, face and hair. You giggled, letting him scent you to his heart's content.
When he finally rested his head on your shoulder with a satisfied sigh, you kissed his temple.
"Your ears are tickling me..."
He smirked, lifting his head, "Well, better get used to them now, because you're gonna have to put up with them aaaaaaall night." He rubbed his ears against your neck to emphasize his point.
The ticklish fur made you laugh and squirm in his grasp, banging your fists on his shoulders for mercy.
"Okay, okay, I get it! I- Hahaha! I get it!"
He let you down, still smirking, though his expression softened when he kissed the top of your head. And then your cheek. And then your lips. And then his arms wrapped around you once more to squeeze you in cuteness aggression.
"Wagh! Hey!"
"Sorry... Not sorry."
He finally let you go, grabbing his stuff and heading to your bedroom.
The small reprieve from his attention was much needed. Your heart was beating out of your chest, your face was phone-charging-in-summer hot, and your stomach was stirring like a washing machine.
How were you going to survive a whole night in his arms?
Another deep breath. You walked into your bedroom, to find him already sitting on the bed expectantly.
"A-ah, you don't need to use the bathroom or anything? We're directly going to sleep?" You felt really silly once the questions left your mouth.
"I was ready for bed back at my place, so I don't need to do anything else here. C'mon. Come here already." He giddily pat the space next to him, his tail bap-bap-bapping the covers.
Resigned, you dragged your feet to the empty side and plopped down on the mattress, turning off the lights and grabbing the blanket–
You didn't have time to settle in before his beefy arms locked around your middle and pulled you right next to him, his body molded against your back with a relaxed groan.
You clamped your mouth shut to prevent a squeak from emerging from your throat, thankful that he couldn't look at your face. Staying still and quiet got harder when he slid one of his legs between yours.
"There. Perfect cuddling position. Put your arms on top of mine."
Your arms moved. It was true, it was the perfect cuddling position, but you couldn't relax nor enjoy it. You were trying so hard to keep your breath calm that you were achieving the exact opposite, with your body stiff and beginning to get sweaty.
"What... horror movie did you watch...?" Some conversation would help you calm down, surely.
You felt him tense up behind you, his voice rumbling against your nape, "I'd rather not talk about it. I actually want to sleep," he held you a little tighter.
Great, so that made it worse.
You wondered if he could tell. He was usually so perceptive when it came to you, you were surprised he hadn't said anything. It was for the best, anyway. If he pointed out your state, you'd be mortified.
"Am I holding you too tight? You seem like a coulant about to burst and deflate," his fingers caressed yours soothingly.
That was it. You couldn't stand the situation anymore. Giving up on seeming fine, you brought your hands up to cover your face, and made a long wailing sound.
He lifted his head, fluffy ears pointed at you in alert, "What's wrong?"
You answered with another wail, turning around and burying your face in his chest.
Tentatively, he caressed your hair, "Did I do something?"
You nodded, then shook your head, then shrugged. It was because of him, but it wasn't his fault.
"Valko... This is so embarrassing..." You finally managed to mutter.
"What? What is?" He tilted his head like a confused dog.
"You!"
"Me?" His ears flattened.
"No, not you... But, the fact that you're here! And I don't know what to do with myself! I feel so nervous around you!" You finally blurted out.
"Nervous in a good way, or...?" He loosened his arms around you.
"Yes, in a good way, but it's still making me lose my mind!"
Bap-bap-bap-bap-bap-bap-bap.
You mentally face-palmed at the sound of his wagging tail. You were suffering, and he was enjoying it!
"You're nervous because you like me...?" He teased.
"Wha-," his words were so childish that you stopped in your tracks and burst out laughing.
"You like me, you like me," he sang in a smug voice.
"You're my boyfriend, what kind of statement is that to make fun of me?" You said between laughs.
Bapbapbapbapbapbapbapbapbap.
"What did I even say now?" You pulled back, wiping tears from your eyes.
"You called me your boyfriend," he smiled.
"T-that's what you are!"
"And I'm happy to hear it," he concluded, pulling you into his arms again and resting his head on top of yours. "Feeling better now? I want to sleep."
"I..." You exhaled slowly, realizing he was acting silly on purpose, "yes, I'm feeling better. Thank you, Val."
"You're welcome," his voice got quieter as he got sleepier, "you know, I get nervous around you too. But you don't have the advantage of my instincts to notice it."
"Yeah? You get butterflies too?"
"Mhm. You drive me crazy, pancake. Did you forget what I did when I entered your apartment? I want to kiss and hug you all the time."
You smiled, feeling your face warm up again, but it didn't feel uncomfortable anymore.
"Good night, Val," you looked up to kiss his jaw.
A pleased growl rumbled up his throat, "Night night."
He nuzzled your hair one last time before settling on the pillow, smiling, eager to wake up next to you.
dividers by @/uzmacchiato
-> Join/leave taglist here <-
A/n: I wanna be more active on Tumblr!! I do!! Look, here's proof!! 😭😭😭 It's been so hard to be in the lads fandom since Valko's cancellation... My sleep schedule is so messed up due to stress guys 😭😭😭😭😭 But!! I am hopeful that he will return soon, and so I shall return as well o7
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.
