Stalker Valko who starts leaving flowers at your windowsill every morning from then on, champagne roses and lily of the valley. Your eyes fluttering open, seeing the flowers bathed in amber one morning or dew dripping down it's petals during another, every single day they are there, a quiet reminder, joy rushing through your veins and making its home in your heart because yeah, there is someone out there, waiting for you to wake up.
Stalker Valko whose wolf rumbles in delight at the light in your eyes, the little happy wiggle that you do every time you smell the flowers and you, brimming with life atleast for those precious few seconds before your brain starts to register the pain again. If he could fight your chronic pain for you, he would. He watches as the brain fog starts to take over and aches. You then get werewolfieawoo's message for the morning and yeah, you are not alone anymore. You get started with your day.
Stalker Valko, as he seamlessly slips into the skin of Chairman Valko always, always has earphones in, whether he's presiding over a shareholder meeting, crisp suit and bossy stare or nerding out in his lab, the clicking of keys a constant symphony slipping underneath the sound of pen scratching against paper, an occasional cuss word; dishes clinking and other such mundane sounds of your existence, keeping his mate close. Every time your message comes through, he pauses everything and actually answers, be it just quiet encouragement or deep dive into were lore for the new fic you were working on, heat rising through his cheeks as he answers yes doll, a were can safely knot a human with enough prep, no doll, dragons don't have phermones and yes princess no need to waste hours to Google stuff like this, just ask me.
On one of your occasional good days, Stalker Valko watches you dance through the window, a rumble in his throat as you weave through the starlight spilling across the floor, hips swaying as music twines around you and oh, what wouldn't he give to just slip into your arms and hold you as both of you sway together, lazy hands around his shoulders and you, tucked into the crook of his neck, a smile creeping across his lips. Patience he purrs. Patience Valko. But he doesn't think he could wait for long to feel the way your lips shape around his name.
Stalker Valko, for all his bravado was terrified. He'd seen what happened to wolves whose mating bond was rejected, seen some humans terrified and repulsed at the thought of loving a were, he's seen proud wolves wither away, their bodies like dying dessicated things going through the motions of being alive and the thought that you might look at him that way causes agony to tear through his limbs, chest caving in, brain in overdrive, making hundreds of plans, all leading to only one outcome, his existence so intertwined with yours, the mere thought of ripping him out of your life fading into impossibility, vowing he'd be a good boy for you, even thought of ripping out his fangs seeming not so bad if it'd give you a semblance of security, nails digging into his skin and lips shaping around your name, something between agony and ardor in his tone.
You see, you've never in your wildest dreams or boldest fantasies expected to have a Stalker. A stalker who made existence easier. A stalker you breathe out, the curl of your tongue against the syllables hiding the yearning words couldn't quite articulate, hope tucked into the corners of your house. The conversations, the flowers, the fresh fruit in your fridge for days you couldn't manage to cook, the notes, the little fucking notes that you find make your chest feel funny, like your prickly heart is kicking up a fuss in there, like you want to bounce about in place, stupid little feelings building in your broken little body with nowhere to go, the sensations growing and growing and oh, oh.