synopsis: God, I love the way you look at me
pairings (separate): Zayne x f!reader, Sylus x f!reader, Valko x f!reader
content: pure fluff <33
Zayne - pick me up, walk me home
"Funny seeing you here."
Zayne glances up from his book, a ghost of a smile on his face at your teasing words. Of course, he often sat on this bench in front of your office, waiting to walk with you.
"A welcome surprise, I hope." He stands, stretching his neck a bit. He's still dressed in his work clothes, and you know your shifts don't line up perfectly, that he'd sacrificed time he could have spent resting to pick you up.
But like always, he doesn't voice a single complaint.
"Did you have a good day?" He slips your bag from your shoulder as he asks, carrying it with him instead. You hum, looping your arm around his.
"I did. It was pretty boring but...not too bad. I missed you though. I hope you aren't too tired."
"Not at all. If you'd like, the bakery down the street is open. Do you want something?" His pace has slowed a bit, as if he knows your exhaustion is kicking in.
"Maybe next time. I just want to take a nice hot bath and go to sleep."
"What about dinner?" Always the practical thinker. You hum as you debate the contents of the fridge, and what will take the least effort.
"Nevermind that, I'll take care of while you're in the bath. Perhaps we'll eat in bed tonight...just this once, of course." He smiles at you as if the two of you are partaking in some grand act of rebellion. You press a kiss to his lips, relishing in his confused yet satisfied blinks.
"Well then, we better hurry on home!"
Valko - would you sit and keep me company?
"Will you sit with me?"
Valko pauses whatever he's typing, glancing over at you with an amused smile. You almost expect him to comment, to tease you a little, but he simply shuts his laptop.
"Of course." Despite his sharp canines, his smile is soft, settling next to you on the couch and wrapping an arm around you. His body is warm, and just the weight of his arm calms you.
"Good?" He whispers, as if not to disturb your peace. You hum, not quite in the mood for speaking.
His face buries into your shoulder, tugging you a little closer. You sink into it, instantly relaxing once his cologne envelops you. Valko had a way of doing that, of making you feel so comfortable, so yourself.
"I love you." You murmur quietly. It's not the first time you've said it, but he always smiles like it is.
"I love you too." He presses kisses all over your face, until you break out into laughter and find yourself tumbling to the floor, Valko underneath you.
"Any particular reason tonight? Do I look strikingly handsome today?" His teasing tone carries a hint of genuine curiosity. You're quiet for a while, adjusting his glasses so they don't sit crooked on his nose.
"I just...love being around you. Is that so wrong?" Your smile probably doesn't come off very carefree, hence why his face softens and his arms tighten around you.
"I love being around you too." He rests his cheek on the top of your head, squeezing you twice as if to really solidify his sincerity.
"Do you think we could just...spend the rest of the night like this?"
"I don't see why not! But...can I grab some chocolate milk first?"
Sylus - i'm not scared, I just reach and you’re right there
Your eyes fly open, heart seized in a panic. Blood is rushing through your ears, but everything slows down the moment your hand finds a warm arm.
Sylus is asleep, but he stirs almost immediately at your movements. He catches your hand, squeezing it gently.
"Everything alright?" His voice is husky from sleep, though no less caring. Your anxiety loosens as you lay back down, sinking into his hold.
"It was just a nightmare." You whisper. Sylus hums in response, his arms tight around you.
"Want to talk about it?" He pulls back to study your face, as if to make sure you aren't hiding how you truly feel. When you smile a little at his inquisitive gaze, he smirks, taking the opportunity to bite the tip of your nose.
"Ow! What was that for?" You swat at him, laughing as you rub your nose despite the fact it doesn't really hurt.
"I enjoy taking bites out of you, didn't you know?" He kisses your nose in a mock apology, really just an excuse to get closer to you.
"Are you feeling better?"
Sylus can read you like a book. Despite what seemed like an attempt to change the subject, you know it was a ploy to make you smile. Now, in the lighter air, he checks in.
"Mhm. I don't normally have nightmares. Well, not when I'm here at least."
"And why is that?" He's genuinely asking, which makes you smile. Such a smart man, and yet your feelings sometimes slip through his fingers.
"Because I'm with you. And I know that nothing can hurt me if I have you by my side."
He doesn't say anything after that. He doesn't need to. He just kisses you softly and holds you closer, until you drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Today I woke up at 2 AM. Instead of falling back asleep my brain decided to conjure up these images which haunted my mind palace until properly expelled
Valko really is just your buff, nerdy and clingy college boyfriend that everyone thinks is a mean jock but really he’s just a big softie who likes carrying his lady (yes he calls you that- word for word) everywhere🤤😩😩
That one corny-ass campus couple who literally don’t get off each other and make you feel even more single every time they are around💀💀
જ⁀➴ ✉︎ pairing: sylus x mc!reader | summary: after a mission gone wrong, you make your way to sylus' base and force yourself to train.
જ⁀➴ ✉︎ tags + warnings: angst, hurt to comfort, soft sylus, mentions of blood and injury, training until injury, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of fighting, hugging and kissing, sylus offering comfort, protective sylus, no y/n, one-shot | wc: 1.9k+ | author's note: i think i tagged everything but pls let me know if i missed anything. title from heavy by the marias
you’re deep within the confines of sylus’ base, tucked inside a training room that was all black mats and stone walls. the stale air sits silently around you—the only thing permeating it the panting of your breath and the thumps of your fists as they assault a punching bag.
an artillery of weapons lines the walls around you. you neglect them all in favor of the rubber underneath your fists, inhaling the sting like you deserved it.
and didn’t you?
scenes from today's mission flash between your eyes. you were caught off guard, ambushed by wanderers because of your carelessness.
you throw a punch, and it is like you can feel their tendrils wrapping around you again. it’s suffocating.
in the end, you took one of them down before fleeing out the abandoned building you’d been sent to scout. you didn’t even accomplish your mission, instead, running back to headquarters like a dog with its tail between its legs.
at headquarters, you did your due diligence of reporting what had gone wrong, namely admitting to all the intel you didn't secure. how could you fail at the only thing in life you’ve ever wanted to work towards?
you punch harder. red bruises begin to bloom at the tips of your knuckle. a strange satisfaction blooms from this, as if seeing proof of your efforts will make you more adept.
this is, perhaps, the worst part. the mission had been relatively simple: get in, collect information, maybe take down a few wanderers along the way, and get out.
you had done almost none of that.
that’s why you’re here, opting to get as far away from the hunter’s association as possible. what better place than the n109 zone?
when you arrived earlier in the evening, sylus was nowhere to be found. such was what you were hoping for.
you had gotten patched up at the association just in case. after the battle, you were left with a shallow but nasty gash on your forehead and several bruises to the torso.
god forbid sylus see you with an open wound, otherwise, he'd raise hell before even asking what it was from.
it was only after you arrived though, did a memory from a few months ago surface. one that certainly didn't help the shame brewing in your chest.
it was a rare instance when the both of you had run into trouble in the n109 zone. a pack of petty thieves who had chosen the wrong people to target.
when the encounter escalated from verbal threats to physical, sylus had pushed you out of the way, absorbing a nasty punch all for the sake of protecting you.
he dealt with the rest of them no problem, and with your help, but after it was over—and the thieves lay half dead in the alleyway—you had turned to him with narrow eyes and a crease between your brows.
"why would you do that?" you asked, hand coming up to push against his shoulder.
he didn't budge.
"you mean protect you?" he said, with wide eyes and a look that bordered on shock. as if he couldn't believe you'd deny his protection.
"i didn't need you to take the hit for me," you had told him, turning away. "i can handle myself."
and from then on, sylus took care of you, but he didn't protect you. at least, not in the same way. he is always there, always hovering, but never overprotective, as if your brief confession to him was all-telling about the care you were willing to receive.
this memory lingers in your mind again as you continue your assault on the punching bag. your hand shoots out, harder than the last time, and you can't help but wonder if sylus sees something about you that you don't.
that maybe you can't handle yourself as well as you thought you could.
and if you couldn't even hold your own in a fight... then what else was there for you to claim prowess for?
the next punch breaks skin.
your knuckles sting as they split.
you wonder how far you can go until your body gives in.
by this hour of night, you feel the toll. the exhaustion settles deep in your lungs and heavy in your feet. but the pain does little to deter you.
in the back of your mind, there is a nagging voice. a fear that maybe one day, you will be ten times as injured and met with the presence of a wanderer.
you have to fight.
what will you have if you don't?
"weren't even going to tell me you were coming?"
a deep, velvet voice interrupts the room. for once, it is the last person you want to see right now.
you continue hitting, eyes locked on the poor bag in front of you.
"you can't expect to come into my home and ignore me, kitten."
you feel his presence approach you. his footsteps are almost as prominent as the thud of your punches.
you hit again and again.
and like a pin dropped to the ground, you can almost feel the moment he realizes what is going on.
the blood that stains the punching bag and your hands. the bandage pressed against your forehead. the sloppy fighting stance you're sure you've adorned but couldn't be bothered enough by to care.
a large hand wraps itself around your wrist before you can make contact again.
before you can throw yourself out of sylus' grasp, he pulls on your arm. it's not hard enough to hurt, but it is enough for you to be fully turned towards him, hands catching against his chest for balance as his arm wraps around your waist.
the look on his face is stern, red eyes automatically scanning down your face and body. it is a look he tries to make deliberate but one you recognize as frantic.
the last thing you wanted to do was worry him.
"i'm fine-"
"you're hurt."
you attempt to pull away from him, but his hold on you is firm. you remain flush against his chest with the only place to look being up at him. with breaths still heavy from exertion, you remain silent.
sylus raises a brow and tilts his head to the side, seemingly deciding that your injuries were not the highest of his concerns.
"you better have a damn good reason why you didn't tell me sooner," he says. his voice is lower than normal as if restraining himself from an outburst.
"i can-"
"and why you're injured."
"sylus-"
"and why there's blood on your hands."
he spits the words out. his breath is warm against your cheek. his grip tightens around you. you are so, so close to him.
it's hard to tell if your heart is pounding because of his intensity or his proximity.
you can tell sylus is angry. not at you, but at the helplessness he must feel.
you know sylus better than anyone, so you know his questions are an attempt at finding reason before blowing the roof off his own base.
beyond what he asks, you see the downward frown at the corner of his lips. the gleam in his eyes that are shining for you, only barely shadowed by fury.
there is something about this look in his eyes that breaks through to you.
and all of a sudden, every emotion you had attempted to harness under the guise of training came through in the form of tears.
all at once, you buckle into sylus' arms. ones that let go of your wrist and instead bring you even closer into his embrace. the two of you sink to the floor, and as the tears fall from your face, his arms are the only steady things in the room.
what you don't see is the way his expression cracks, just for a second, as if his heart is breaking just from the sound of your sobs. any ounce of anger he had been harboring disappeared all at once.
he rubs your back as you cry. gives you a minute, maybe two.
"tell me what happened."
and you do. every last bit of it. from the weakness you felt fighting the wanderers to your failure of a mission.
you don't even mean to confess all of it. just enough so he understands why you're crying, but once you start, it all comes spilling out.
the words tumble from your lips. you speak what must be incoherent sentences. this is all you have ever worked towards. it's the only thing you could trust yourself to do well.
you even tell him about the time he took the hit for you in the alley. something that is as simultaneously haunting as it is irrelevant.
and beneath what you say, sylus knows exactly why it is so important to you for you to protect yourself.
he responds to your confessions with soft hums and brief nods. at some point, his hand comes up to pat your head. you think the action makes you cry more.
sylus gives you time. for this, you are most grateful.
he lets your breathing even out and your tears slow their fall. it is only then does he pull back from the embrace he wrapped you in. you almost don't want to look him in the face knowing how the crying looks on your face.
but the look in his eyes when you meet them is anything but bothered by that. instead, it is a look you almost mistake for pity.
because in all the time you have known sylus, he has never looked at you with only love. it is always a fraction of the expression, mixed in with concern or curiosity or lust.
but in this moment, sylus looks at you with pure adoration. you feel it in the depth of his gaze. in the dilation of his pupils. in the way his entire being would bend the rules of the universe just to be here before you.
his thumb comes up to brush a tear from your cheek, and he cups your face in his hands.
"you are not a failure," he says it with more belief than you think you've ever had for yourself in your life.
"do you think you got to where you are by being weak? every battle is a testament to your strength, even the bad ones."
sylus leans back and moves to hold your hand, running a feather-light touch over the newly split cuts.
"i will not let you hurt the strongest person i know."
he brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your wounds. his words come slow and sincere.
"and if you ever feel like your hard work isn't enough, i will do everything in my power to get you where you want to be. just say the word."
at this, he brings both of your hands to his heart, bringing you ever so much closer. and slowly, as if asking for permission, he inches his lips towards yours.
the kiss is sweet.
his lips capture yours, and a heated warmth spreads through you. it is filled with all the love he cannot put into words. a promise of all the truths he has just expressed.
sylus is not the cure to your doubts, but he is a form of severance.
in the dim light of the training room, he embraces you so lovingly that you can't help but believe these doubts could one day dissipate.
જ⁀➴ ✉︎ author's note: is this one-shot just me projecting? maybe LMAO. this is my first time writing sylus and lads in general, so i hope you enjoyed! i've been deep in the lads rabbit hole, and it's the only thing on my mind lately lol. i know people who are taken aback by the concept or the nsfw aspects of it, which i understand isn't for everyone! but at the end of the day, lads is so special because of the comfort, adventure, and love it offers. that's part of what inspired me to write this :3 and for these reasons, #bringvalkoback!!! (ps thanks for reading my rant)
valko has a love-hate relationship with his glasses.
he loves that they can help him see, obviously. he likes the fact that you like how he looks with them on. he's also the kind of guy to have both glasses and contacts, but actively despite wearing the latter.(and both, really)
you've caught him squinting at food labels, his computer, at the tv. he'll deny it each time, saying that his eyes are just dry and he's adjusting his vision. to which you usually clap back with the fact that he both never uses eye drops to help with said dry eyes, but also because when he does wear contacts, he always forgets to replace them. there has been a few times where you've swatted him to stop wearing his bi-weekly contacts that he's definitely been wearing for more than two weeks.
with that hassle, he'll always prefer his glasses. valko's often got them on at home. if you ever needed one, he's always got one of those micro fabric cloth on hand. sure, he's accidentally slept while wearing them, leaving indents on his temples. he's also got a bad habit of taking them off, forgetting where he put them down, and thus asking for your help to look for where he placed them.
"Angel, please, I can't find them,"
"Have you looked in the bedroom?"
"Baby that's the problem I can't see," he says with wide puppy eyes.
but what he hates the most is how they get in the way when he's got his tongue lapping you up. his head between your legs, eating and licking like a man- or werewolf- starved.
his hands are gripping your thighs, keeping you just open enough to were you're still squeezing his head. it's cause he likes how your thighs brush against the edges of his wolf ears. and oh, does he love when you tangle your hand in his hair, scratching and grazing the most sensitive part of him- besides his tail, of course.
and like everything he does, it's with an energy that he always has. every noise- squelch, slurrpp- between his groans and your whimpers would make you tempted to smack him away, if he wasn't also using his fingers at the same time to spread you open.
and stars is he so messy with it. there is no shame when it comes to making you come with his mouth alone. and that's where valko loves and hates his glasses the most. they'd be so fogged up by now, from the warmth he's creating between your thighs. he can barely see in front of him. but fuck, it turns him on so much that he can see (or.. not see?) how good he's making you feel. he takes the fogging up as a sign that he's getting you right there, so, so, close.
and don't worry- if you find it uncomfortable, maybe if the edge of the frames poke your skin, he'll take it off no problem. but once you're coming undone, rest assured that valko will ride you through your high, before pulling back and throwing his glasses back on to see the mess he's made of you.
bonus headcanons!
if you wear glasses too, he's bought custome matching frames for the both of you
he also has several pairs. round frames, thin metal frames, even those chunky black plastic frames that give a very clark kent/superman vibe
my favorite headcanon i read was that with him being a werewolf, his glasses could be colorblind glasses since dogs have a very limited color range
if you don't wear glasses, he would gift you a pair that looks like his, with no grade and just the blue light filter. "so we're matching and it would be less strain when you're on your phone and computer ^-^"
BONUS FUN FACT : this fic was inspired by me this morning, forgetting to take my glasses off in the shower, and thus fogging them up badly
all right reserved to @myntrose on tumblr. do not copy, translate, repost, or claim my work as your own. the artwork on my blog does not belong to me, unless stated otherwise. likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcomed.
