summary- Kim Namjoon likes to spend time in a discord server… dedicated to him. With new friends and a budding crush, will he ever be able to truly be himself without revealing who he is?
word count- 1.2k
pairing- idol!Namjoon x fanfic writer!Reader
rating- PG15
genre- internet relationships, s2f2(maybe)lovers, angst, fluff
warnings- none
a.n.- well once again my dumbass turned a story into a series. enjoy this part! more to come <3
Thanks to the beautiful @raplinesmoon for helping me brainstorm, and @oftenderweapons and @jeonspub for beta reading!
As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌
-
Namjoon is live: Birthday!!
You stared at the notification on your phone, your heart racing. Your legs felt numb just like your fingers – a chill going through your body. This was probably not a normal reaction to finding out that one of the people you considered your close friends was a world famous celebrity. But you couldn’t help the way your entire body wanted to cringe, throwing you back into the moment where an innocent voice chat turned into a life changing reveal.
You were a bit hesitant accepting the video chat initially, afraid that the nice guy you had a bizarre number of things in common with and flirted with occasionally would turn out to be a creep masturbating. Who knew what you saw on the screen was far more traumatizing?
summary- Kim Namjoon likes to spend time in a discord server… dedicated to him. With new friends and a budding crush, will he ever be able to truly be himself without revealing who he is?
word count- 2.8k
pairing- idol!Namjoon x fanfic writer!Reader
rating- PG15
genre- internet relationships, s2(maybe)lovers, angst, fluff, slightly smutty
warnings- pretty angsty, a little sexting but not actual sexting, superficial conversations portrayed as deep (lol im sorry I didn’t want to make this too long), infatuation, open ending, talks of a daddy kink
a.n.- this was not supposed to Joon’s bday drabble but it somehow ended up so lol. this is for all my fic writers out there. please don’t hate me for what the reader did… there may or may not be another part in the works oops lol
Thanks to the beautiful @raplinesmoon for helping me brainstorm, beta and fix the ending!!
As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌
-
Kim Namjoon had a bad habit.
It wasn’t like watching too much porn, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t googling himself to read comments on his videos, although it was somewhat like that. It wasn’t talking to his fans incognito, although it was exactly like that.
Sitting in his room, in his boxers, he had all the lights off. His eyes were fixated on his screen, two fingers hovering over the touchpad of his laptop as he scrolled periodically. He pushed his glasses back, his face luminated by the blue light of his screen and swallowed, ignoring the way his stomach knotted and his face heated.
Kim Namjoon had a bad habit. And it all started when he joined a random discord server named after his studio. Of course he never revealed himself. To the unsuspecting largely female members, he was John, an autocorrect happenstance that granted him his anonymity. Not that anyone would believe he was him anyway. Not in these circles.
PAIRING ! miya atsumu x fem!reader
NOTES ! hiiiiii this has been in the works since the summer time. i'm still working out the plot (forgive me) but i know how i want this to go :D there will be about 15 parts give or take
CONTENT ! smau, language, one sided enemies to fwb to lovers, college au, mentions of sex/suggestive content, maybe smut idk yet, lots and lots of crack bc i said so, fluff to angst to fluff again, atsumu doesn't know what he wants, slow burn i think????, inconsistent updates (calling it now LMAO), + (more to come)
SUMMARY ! It sounds cheesy, but if someone were to ask Atsumu how he felt when he first met you; he’d say ‘love at first sight.’ That’s pretty odd… considering he doesn’t want more than to hook up with you.
SERIES PLAYLIST !
divider by: @rookthornesartistry
( ☁︎ ) = written !
INTRO ! seijoh 4 + a goddess ꩜ roomies (love you guys) ꩜ we love it here -sakusa ꩜ dumpster fire 🔥
PROLOGUE - nights like this ( ☁︎ ) + 💬
PART 1 - motive
PART 2 - blueberry eyes
PART 3 - she
PART 4 - like that! ( ☁︎ ) + 💬
PART 5 - why
PART 6 - ring ( ☁︎ ) + 💬
PART 7 - I.F.L.Y. ( ☁︎ ) + 💬
taglist (fill out the google form here to be added ! )
synopsis. in a muted world where when you make contact with your soulmate they bring color back to life. it’s a classic romance, until it becomes a sensory overload
genre. oneshot, soulmate au, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, fluff
the walk to the convenient store is quiet. the kind of quiet you’ve learned to love because it stops your mind from spiraling into endless ‘what if’ scenarios and heart from pounding out of your chest like when you first moved, when everything seemed unpredictable.
now you can safely walk through the doors and know that the young woman with a tripod at one of the seating areas isn’t recording you, but instead the meal she made from gathering items in the store. or that the man quietly typing away by the window isn’t secretly judging your outfit or hair, but simply finishing up work before heading home.
this convenience store has become one of the few places where you don’t have to think too hard. you haven’t memorized each aisle, but you know which ones have your go-to options. you can’t predict who’ll be at the register, but you know the older man who always keeps the volume of the radio low is more likely to be up front around dinner time. when the sky is setting into soft shades of gray and faded oranges, the way it always does in your eyes.
the bell rings when you push the door open, and your eyes naturally go to the counter the second you take a couple more steps and it’s able to be in view. you can’t contain the small smile at the sight of thin grey hair at the sides of a familiar bald head. the music confirms it further. it isn’t the newest pop song that has female idols saying a repetitive chorus over a fast, bouncing rhythm beat. it’s an older sounding song, probably decades before you were born. it has a gentle guitar and a slow melody with lyrics you can barely make out because the voice is so soft.
you smile because in your world, it’s a constant battle between you and nature. where each time you step out of the comfort of your apartment and the world doesn’t immediately break you down and swallow you whole, you get a point. small wins like familiar faces are steps towards that point total and eventually, victory.
“good evening, little martian.” he gives you a soft smile that makes the wrinkles around his eyes move. “good evening, harabeoji.” you reply, making your way to the first aisle in your routine. you grab a pink buldak bowl and set it into the basket you’d picked up by the door.
“got any good things to sell me?” he calls after you. “my wife loved the necklace you made. won’t stop wearing it.” his words caused you to smile a little wider, warmer than the polite one you’d greeted him with.
you knew he’d make small talk, which was exactly why shopping while talking worked so well. it gave you something to do besides hold eye contact. not that you were trying to be mysterious or that you didn’t enjoy talking with him, it was just easier when your hands had a job and your eyes could stay on the shelves instead of someone’s face for longer than a minute.
“i don’t bring my work with me when i’m getting dinner, you know this.”
“aishh, come on! you don’t want to carry around a big heavy bag full of rattling beads and tangled threads?” he asks, and despite the teasing grin on his face, you can’t help but scrunch your nose in disgust. the thought alone sounds like an utter nightmare. but you can tell he isn’t serious and knows you well enough by now to know that a ridiculous request is the quickest way to get a reaction out of you.
“no thank you, i’d look homeless. or like a crazy librarian.” you shake your head as you walk further and effortlessly move deeper into the store. cheese string (point), sausage on a stick (point), tuna kimbap (point).
he lets out a small comfortable sigh, pausing before speaking again. “i don’t know how you’re able to make such good jewelry without seeing the full colors.” you hear something soften in his voice. “i wish you could see the beauty you make.”
you smile to yourself as you place another item into your basket. “i’ve never needed bright colors to know something’s pretty…”
“smart girl.” he replies, satisfied and watching with caring eyes as you make your way to the counter and set your items down one by one. “your soulmate will come soon enough, i know it.” he reassures you gently as he scans them.
you just smile and let out a hum in response. you can’t admit you’re one of those people labeled as weirdos. the ones who don’t spend their lives wishing to meet their soulmate and actively seek them out. you don’t watch those reaction videos of a person when they are seeing the world for the first time, and burst into tears in awe and joy. or don’t write a rant on a subreddit about how lonely it is not having ‘your person’ and how you can feel something missing in your heart.
it isn’t that you don’t want to fall in love…
you just don’t want your world to change.
you’ve spent years learning how to exist in it. making friends with the colorless flowers and mastering which places look safe and feel like home.
the thought of waking up one day to colors brighter than you’ve ever known, to a world suddenly louder simply because you brushed against a stranger terrifies you.
so when people wished for their soulmate, you wished for one more ordinary day.
“come back with the goods next time, little martian.” he hands you the bagged groceries and you roll your eyes. “i will, i will.” you reply, taking a quick look to see if everything inside is seated nicely. you tilt your head slightly to the side when you see an unknown strawberry dessert you didn’t pick up inside the bag.
“don’t worry, you didn’t buy it.” he holds up a hand when he sees your smile lessen a little. “it’s on the house.”
“harabeoji…” you give him a look, words of protests and gratitude twisting together and stuck in your throat. but before you can even get anything out he stops you. “ah ah, don’t argue with an old man.”
you huff out a quiet laugh, closing the bag once more and awkwardly settling for the free sweet treat. “thank you..”
he only waves you off, already turning to busy himself with something behind the register. “have a good evening, little martian.”
“you too, harabeoji.”
the familiar chime of the bell rings above your head as you make your way toward the exit. just as you reach for the handle, someone on the other side pulls it open first. a man in a black hoodie steps aside, one hand holding the door while the other steadies the light grey phone in his hand.
“go ahead,” he says with an easy smile. “thank you.” you dip your head politely as you walk past him, careful to leave enough space that neither of you brushes against the other.
he offers a small nod in return before stepping inside, the bell chiming once more behind him.
you let out a breath as you start walking down the sidewalk, relieved that the trip had gone smoothly. your mind immediately begins replaying the conversation with harabeoji. picking apart every response and analyzing your own behavior. just when your about to give yourself an A+
you stop.
the kewpie mayonnaise. shit.
you turn around quickly and start going back down the block and back to the convenience store, your pace a little quicker than before. usually you’d already have some at home but you ran out yesterday. it wasn’t part of the routine, which was exactly why you’d forgotten it.
even as your feet were already in front of the convenience store you debated not going back for it. each minute away from the apartment meant more opportunity for something to happen, but you remembered there hadn’t been many people inside. they were finishing up work and making content just like before.
harabeoji was definitely going to tease you for coming back so soon, though. but you could combat that with a quick explanation and maybe even a joke to save yourself. yes, you definitely had to explain yourself.
the bell chimes as you step inside.
“sorry i forgot my—“
you collide with someone turning the corner of the aisle closest to the door. the impact isn’t hard enough to hurt, but it catches you off guard. your bag swings slightly from your hand, and a hand instinctively reaches out to steady you before anything falls.
“whoa—sorry.” the voice is close, startled, and immediately apologetic.
you look up, ready to give the automatic reassurance that you’re fine, that it was your fault for rushing back inside, and that there was no need to apologize. if you played your cards right this didn’t have become a big thing.
but then you see him, and everything changed. you don’t even notice him at first, not even when he is right in front of you and staring dead at you with wide eyes and eyebrows that are pulled together in concern.
color. you notice color.
the light from the ceiling is brilliant, projecting onto the pink of the dessert display behind him that’s no longer the gentle shade you’ve always perceived it as. it’s brighter. sharper. almost glowing. the rows of drinks behind the counter blur together into colors you don’t have names for fast enough. the packaging on the shelves, the signs hanging above the aisles, the little decorations around the store…all of it is suddenly demanding your attention at once.
what? this isn’t right.
your eyes dart around, searching for something familiar, something muted, something that doesn’t feel like it’s screaming or trying to make you permanently blind.
but there isn’t anything.
the convenience store that had always been predictable, the place you knew how to navigate without thinking, is suddenly different. too different in a way that’s unrecognizable.
then, for the first time since you collided, you really look at the man in front of you.
he’s looking around the store too. but not like you are. his eyes are wide with wonder, darting from the drink refrigerators to the snack aisle, lingering on the bright advertisements hanging from the ceiling. a slow, disbelieving smile begins to spread across his face, as if he’s seeing the world for the very first time too.
your stomach drops as an entirely new realization hits you.
no.. no, no, no.
the panic on your face must have been crystal clear, because when he looks back at you, the smile on his face falters. his excitement lasting only a second before it melting into confusion.
“hi.. uh.. i think- we are..” the man stutters over his words, blush clearly visible as a rose tint crept up his neck.
soulmates.
the word that’s left him a flushed mess. because unlike you, he is probably overjoyed to have finally found his person. to embrace the beautiful vivid color in the world. but you can’t match his expression. because this isn’t your world.
so while his face is pink, yours is completely pale. instead of smiling, you’re staring at him like the ground has disappeared beneath your feet. the world has finally swallowed you whole.
your eyes have already moved past him again, overwhelmed by the impossible brightness of the world around you. the bright ramen cups in every type of color imaginable. the vivid red logo on the freezer door. even harabeoji’s faded apron seems too saturated, too alive.
“are you okay..?”
the voice, however soft makes your skin crawl as embarrassment and panic tangle together in your chest. the store is unfamiliar. the stranger in front of you is unfamiliar. nothing feels the way it did thirty seconds ago. everything is wrong.
you’re thinking about everything and nothing all at once. the painful lights overhead. the way people are probably looking at you. the kewpie mayonnaise. the fact that this is your soulmate. the fact that you don’t want this to be happening. everything is wrong.
your chest tightens until it aches, and suddenly you can’t seem to get in a decent amount of air in your lungs no matter how hard you try. you don’t even realize you’re crying until a sob forces it’s way out of your throat. your eyes shut tightly.
a gasp follows after, presumably from the man in front of you. then silence follows as you pressed your hands against your ears. it’s not completely silent, you still hear muffled sounds of humming refrigerators and soft music.
but the stranger is silent. almost too silent to the point where your certain the guy who is supposed to be your soulmate, now thinks your a freak. when you dare to crack your eyes open, you see him standing completely still. he’d started to step closer, to lend a hand again but now he was stopped.
when he notices your eyes are slightly opened again, he’s own widen and his body visibly stiffens. “…are you okay?” he asks again, worry written plainly across his face.
you can’t answer. your eyes shut again and another shaky breath catches in your throat. he stays silent for a moment and as if realizing you aren’t ignoring him, speaks again. “m-maybe going outside would be better? if you can walk. or maybe i should…” his sentence trails off as his eyes dart around the store before settling on the older man behind the register.
“excuse me, seonsaengnim..”
before you can make out the rest, hurried footsteps echo across the floor. a second later, the music fades until the store falls quiet which gives you some confidence to open your eyes again just a sliver. the fluorescent lights aren’t off completely, but several are now dimmed enough that the harsh brightness eases.
when the footsteps return, he stops several feet away from you, giving you more space than he did before. “…is that any better?” he asks softly.
you still don’t answer, but your shoulders loosen just enough that his expression softens with relief. and for a moment it’s just the two of you, standing tensely and words on the tip of your tongues.
instead of looking around the store again, you keep your eyes on him. or rather, his clothes. the black hoodie. dark sweatpants. simple. they don’t demand your attention the way the shelves do. they give your eyes somewhere to rest.
you try not to look any higher but fail. the color of his skin catches you off guard. warm and alive. real in a way you’ve never experienced before. even the faint pink across his lips and the darker shade of his eyes make your head swim. they’re such small details, yet they feel impossibly loud.
you blink, forcing your gaze back to the safety of his hoodie. when you risk another glance, he’s still looking at you. but this time you focus on his expression. it isn’t impatient, or confusion. not even the uncomfortable curiosity you’re used to when people notice something is different about you.
he just looks… concerned. like he’s trying to figure out how to help without making things worse.
“i’m… really sorry,” he says quietly. “i didn’t know… i mean…” his words stumble over each other before he lets out a small, frustrated breath.
“i didn’t mean to do this to you.”
his apology catches you off guard almost as much as the colors had. he says it like this is somehow his fault, or as if he could’ve prevented it.
“it’s..” you swallow hard, forcing yourself to draw in another shaky breath before trying again. “it’s not your fault.”
the man visibly exhales, but he doesn’t smile “okay,” he says quietly. “okay...” he nods once, more to reassure himself than anything else. then his gaze drops to the floor where your groceries had scattered. without another word, he crouches and quickly begins gathering them.
everything in you screams to help him. to apologize. to crouch beside him and hurriedly pick everything up like the stable adult you’re supposed to be. but you can’t move.
your eyes follow him as he collects each item before standing again, carefully extending the bag toward you. “thank you…” you murmur, the words leaving your mouth just as shakily as your breathing. you reach out and take the bag from him, your fingers brushing the paper instead of his hand.
against your better judgment, your gaze drifts back to his face. you can’t help it, he’s the first person you’ve ever seen in full color.
his skin is warmer than you’d imagined anyone’s could be, a soft flush still dusted across his cheeks. his big boba eyes are impossibly clear, framed by lashes that stand out against them, and strands of black hair fall messily across his forehead. his features fit together in a way that’s almost satisfying to look at.
you look away before your head can start spinning again. the colors are one thing. the realization is another. this stranger is the person you’re supposedly meant to spend the rest of your life with. someday, he’s supposed to learn that you can’t fall asleep without the same playlist looping through the night. that you’ll avoid certain foods because you’re terrified of choking on the weird texture, no matter how irrational it sounds to everyone else. that you count the small victories just to make it through an ordinary day.
he’s supposed to know all of that. and that thought of someone seeing every carefully hidden part of you is somehow even more overwhelming than the colors. it’s utterly terrifying.
you tighten your grip on the grocery bag until the paper crinkles beneath your fingers. home.
you needed to go home. the thought repeats itself over and over, louder than everything else. “i have to go.”
his face falls slightly, his mouth opening automatically as if to protest. but he doesn’t try to stop you. he simply nods, stepping out of your way so there’s a clear path to the door.
“okay,” he says softly. “you can go.”
you take one step, then another. your legs feel like they’re moving through water, but they’re moving. just before you reach the door, his voice calls after you again.
“wait.”
you freeze.
“i’m not trying to stop you,” he says quickly. “i just…” he rubs the back of his neck, searching for the right words. “it’s just.. you’re my soulmate.. shouldn’t we exchange numbers or something?”
the request is surprisingly… normal. awkward but practical. not ‘will you stay?’ not ‘let’s talk about our future.’ just… numbers.
you hesitate before giving a small nod. a minute later, your hand feels heavier as you slowly type in your number and name into his contacts.
“…i guess,” he says, slipping his phone back into his pocket once you hand it back, “i’ll talk to you later?” he asks, almost in anticipation or hope.
“okay,” you reply softly. and with nothing else to say, you turn and push through the door.
the evening air greets you, but it doesn’t bring the relief you’d been hoping for. outside is somehow worse.
the muted neighborhood you’d walked through only minutes ago is gone. the sky blazes with oranges, pinks, and purples so vivid they almost hurt to look at. brake lights flash brilliant red, storefront signs glow in impossible shades, and even the green leaves lining the sidewalk seem too alive.
your carefully calculated movements from every trip before this suddenly mean nothing. the landmarks you’d memorized look different. every route you’d spent years making predictable has become unfamiliar.
home.
you just had to get home.
you force one foot in front of the other, but your breathing starts to grow uneven again. your grip tightens around the paper grocery bag. there are too many colors. too many people. too many things pulling at your attention all at once, making you dizzy whenever you move.
behind you, you hear a familiar bell and then a voice.
“hey…”
you turn your head to see your soulmate in black stepping outside the store. through the front window he’d watched you leave, hoping you’d be okay. instead, he’d watched your pace falter after only a few steps.
he stops several feet away, careful not to come any closer.
“i know you’ll probably think i’m creepy,” he says silently berating himself, “but… would you please let me walk you home?”
you hesitate. the thought of someone knowing where you live makes your stomach twist.
he notices the uncertainty on your face and quickly adds, “i don’t have to walk beside you. i can stay behind you if that’s easier. i just…” he glances toward the busy street before looking back at you. “…i want to make sure you get home safely after everything.”
your eyes drift over him. the black hoodie. the dark sweatpants. calm colors and a familiar face that had already become something steady in a world that no longer was. everything else felt impossibly loud. but somehow, he didn’t. he kept his distance without you having to ask. he spoke softly, never raising his voice above what was necessary. even now, he wasn’t trying to rush you or fill the silence with empty reassurance.
you glanced toward the street, where the colors still blurred together into something your mind couldn’t keep up with. the cars driving by are in colors you’ve never seen before, with engines that amplified your ever sense.
maybe he was right. right now, being alone was a recipe for disaster.
“okay..” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “you can walk me home.”
his eyes brighten almost instantly, surprise flickering across his face. for a second, he looks almost giddy, as though he hadn’t expected you to say yes. “cool.. cool.” he says, trying to sound calm and collected even as he has to catch the smile beginning to spread across his face.
“sorry,” he says, a small laugh escaping him. “i’m just…” he looks at you for a moment, and for once, his expression isn’t filled with worry or confusion. it’s something softer. something almost impossible to describe because no one has ever looked at you like that before.
“i’m just really glad i found you.”
the words shouldn’t make your heart flutter. they should make your chest tighten in a uncomfortable way. but somehow, standing there beneath a sky full of colors you never asked for, with the one person who somehow made the chaos feel a little less frightening.
you believe him..
“i’ve never seen the sky like this..” he mutters, and you look at him to see his head is up towards the sky. big eyes staring at the clouds and new colors. “me either..” you say absentmindedly, realizing this was his first time seeing clearly too.
you see him turn his head towards you from the corner of your eye. smiling like he is savoring each word you speak. like finding you was the easiest, happiest thing in the world.
This is already so good- the way Valko is just so smitten but he has to keep to himself (for now) FJFJDJJD
I just see the more and more they work together over time, eventually there’s some sort of tension between them. Lingering gazes and silences, Valko’s learning more about his mate and her mannerisms- maybe how he knows her focused face, or how she clicks her pen whenever she’s anxious or knowing her coffee order’s a caramel iced latte with oat milk (just saying as an example) or even how she doodles little stars and moons in the margins of her notepad- little things like that he notices as time goes on.
I HOPE MY HUSBAND RETURNS FROM WAR- SOBBING CHOKING CRYING THROWING UP-
but also- this is a great prompt and thank you so much!!! he's adorable and i'm so sad :(( thank you so much for reading and sending me this ask <3333
Valko didn't need you here. His team was handling it- But still, he kept asking for you to come by. He'd even gone as far as to hire your company on a retainer, which he didn't need. He had his own cybersecurity department- That didn't matter. If he was a client, then you'd come around more often. If he was a client that was paying an absurd amount, you'd give him priority over others.
This proximity, this nearness, gave him front row seats to watching you simply exist around him. And he was learning so much. All your little quirks, all your little habits, all your preferences. He was becoming privy to it all and he couldn't be more happy.
Even that day in the lobby- He'd gone right up and called his mother. He couldn't contain himself. He had gushed about how it everything and more to finally see you, smell you- And how everything his mother had told him couldn't even begin to compare to what it felt like in real time.
In the last week and a half, he felt like he'd come to know your soul. You were headstrong, kind, and always made it known when someone else interrupted you. You filled the room with your warmth and energy. And every time you came, you had your own travel mug with a hot drink.
Sometimes, it would be coffee, sometimes tea, and sometimes, hot chocolate with cinnamon. He could never pin down what you preferred so, he started to keep it all in the break room. In case you wanted something. Anything.
God, he was ready to give you everything.
Even now- He was staring himself in his laptop's camera, making sure his hair was right, his glasses were clean, and his tie was proper. You were about to come for another meeting which could very easily have been an email.
Simon knocked and Valko slammed his laptop shut. He winced, hearing a crack- He'd deal with that later.
"Sir, your 2 o'clocks are all here." Simon announced, and Valko waved at him to send everyone in.
She's here- Oh god- She's- He frowned a little, your scent was different than usual. New perfume? He waited for everyone to settle in the room then took another whiff. No. Not a new perfume. A lingering scent of someone's cologne. Earthy, oaky, manly.
Manly?!? His wolf panicked and he circled the room, trying to be nonchalant as his employees rattled off on how the project was almost complete and the suspended app would go back online soon. He wasn't listening. He was sniffing the air like the pathetic dog that he was.
"And that concludes it." Someone said and the laptops started to close. "We should up and running by Sunday midnight."
You nodded and thanked everyone for letting you be part of the team and how excited you were to see what the company did next.
Valko was in a frenzy. He had missed out everything because he was too busy sniffing you and trying to figure out what man were you smelling like and why.
"Good- Good- Send me all reports before 6 tonight." Valko smiled, trying to seem as if he'd been part of the meeting.
You waited for everyone to leave then turned to him. "I suppose this ends out contract?"
No!!!! He felt claws in his throat.
"What? No, no. You're on retainer." He offered politely, making you laugh. Yes! I did that!
"It seems like daylight robbery." You shook your head, "I can't take your money whilst doing nothing at all for it."
Valko smiled. You were just so considerate. How did he possibly get so lucky? He had no clue.
"I should-" You slipped your laptop in your bag and pointed to the door.
"How- How about dinner? As a thank you." He hoped you'd agree. "A neat bow to end our contract." And begin a new one. A private one. "Unless, your partner wouldn't like that?" Yes. That's a nonsuspicious way of asking. He felt every proud of himself.
"My partner?" You laughed a little, "No. I'm- I'm single. And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't go around asking for permission from my boyfriend."
HURRAY!!!! His heart thumped against his ribs.
"Oh-" He said smoothly, "My apologies. I thought I smelled men's cologne on you."
"My- You have a nose on you." You smiled, "No, I was just in a rush and used my roommate's perfume instead of mine."
Valko nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little, but still somewhat tense. Did that mean you had a male roommate? And you shared things with him? Were you two close? Had he seen you in your underwear? Did you two have sleepovers? Did you have a will they won't they situationship with him?
He was flooded with questions and had no answers. Just say yes to dinner and I'll figure this out.
"So... Dinner?" He smiled.
"I- I don't know-" You hesitated a little. "I'm not sure it would be appropriate-"
"It wouldn't." He answered, "But since you'd like the contract to end, it should be fine, yes?"
"I- Yes." You smiled and he felt like jumping with joy.
"Great." He nodded, his smile bright and wide. "I'll have Simon send you all the details." He offered his hand, "Again, you have no idea how much you changed everything when you walked into my lobby that day."
"It's really nothing." You said softly, shaking his hand.
"No. I really mean it." He said again, "You changed everything."
Valko had grown up being told that when he'd meet his mate, he'd know. He would stay up so many nights, asking his mom to tell the story of how she met his dad, how she knew that his dad was the one. No matter how many times he'd hear the story, he'd never get tired.
Maybe that was why he believed in love stories. Because how could he not? His parents' was the love story for the ages.
However, seeing how old he was now, he was starting to lose hope.
He had travelled the world, met countless people, and never once had he ever met someone that made him pause. That stole his breath, that made his wolf go wild, that pulled him as if they were meant for him.
Sure, there had been relationships, good fucks- some were genuinely nice women. One relationship had even lasted two years because it was so comfortable. But that was all it was. Comfortable. No one ever captured his heart. No one ever made his soul burn. No one ever made his wolf yearn for them.
Not the way his mother had always told that she did for his father.
So he told himself that love could wait. It would have to wait. He just focused more and more on the company. On his career. On everything other than what he wanted to seek out.
Even now, he was sitting at his desk, overseeing some papers when his assistant knocked.
"Sir?" He popped his head in the office. "We have a bit of a situation downstairs."
"What now, Simon?" Valko sighed and looked up.
"Uh.. there's a woman downstairs. In the lobby. Won't leave until she sees you." Simon explained.
"So? Call security or whatever-" Valko waved him away.
"That's the problem part." Simon swallowed. "She's not doing anything. She's just sitting there. Says that she needs 5 minutes only. Says that she'll wait."
"Wait?" Valko's brows furrowed and Simon nodded. He inhaled deeply and paused. "I'll handle it." Valko said slowly and then took another deep breath.
There were the usual smells. Office cedar, air fresheners, stale coffee, and something new. Different. Sweeter.
Valko closed his laptop and took out his nasal blockers. He usually wore them so his sense of smell wouldn't constantly be assaulting and distracting him. He took another deep breath and suddenly felt his wolf pawing at the back of his throat.
That was new. His wolf never did that. Had never done that.
He walked out of his office and the smell grew stronger. He followed it all the way down to the lobby and there you were. His heart stuttered, his wolf practically tried to claw out of his chest. He had to put his nasal blocker back in so to not lose control and show the whole building his tail.
"I heard you were looking for me." He said smoothly with a smile, offering his hand.
"Mr Ao! Hello!" You smiled brightly and his knees almost buckled. "I'm so sorry for showing up like this but I called and no appointments were available until next month and-"
He wasn't listening. He couldn't. You were shaking his hand and that's all that mattered. All this time he'd spent looking- Somehow you'd come to him. Just shown up out of thin air.
"But anyway- I found a backdoor vulnerability in your new healthcare app-" You pulled away from his hand and he almost reached out to grab you again. You didn't notice that. You were too busy opening your laptop to show him what you'd found. "I have a small cyber security start up." You explained. "And I thought that if I'd emailed you about this, it might look like a scam or something -"
You were still talking but all Valko was doing was looking at you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, the way your mouth moved as you spoke, your hands as they glided over the keys on your laptop. Whereas his wolf was purring because he was just near you. A soft chant churning in his head. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.
"See?" You smiled, showing him your laptop screen. "That could lead to potential data leaks." Valko nodded. He had heard absolutely nothing you'd said. "Whoever built the authentication layer probably forgot to tie up the loose ends- It's nothing catastrophic. Yet." You turned to him and he was just... There. Without a single working braincell.
"Right... Can you show me the code again please?" He tried to piece together what you'd said.
You nodded and put your laptop on the receptionist's desk. Valko moved closer to look at your laptop over your shoulder and definitely not to smell you.
The nasal blocker was there but this close, he could still smell you. Like pine after rain. Like a warm beach day. Like midnight after a thick snow. Everything was so crisp and you were showing him a code that looked like hieroglyphics at the moment.
"Mr Ao?" You asked, unsure if he was even listening.
"I'm sorry." He gave an easy smile to cover up the torment inside him. "I'm a little distracted. Work and all-" He lied. Oh god I just lied to my mate what would mother say? He cleared his throat. "If you could give me your number, perhaps we can arrange a proper sit down and discuss this?" And then afterwards I'll throw you over my shoulder and we'll disappear for at least a month.
You smiled again and his wolf preened. You were smiling at him. For him.
"Of course." You handed him your business card.
"I'll take very good care of this." And you. Oh god I'll take such good care of you. He slipped the business card into his pocket.
You nodded, "Well.. um- I should go- I'm sorry for causing a scene and-"
Cause as many scenes as you want. Anything you want. His brain was burning up. This was everything and more than what his mother had told him would feel like.
"Thank you." He breathed out as you put your laptop on your bag. "For finding this." And me. Thank you for finding me. "We would have landed in a lot of trouble and lawsuits if you hadn't."
"It's really no problem. You're doing good work. I didn't want it to stop just because someone made a mistake." You assured him. "Thank you again for your time, Mr Ao."
"Valko. Please, call me Valko." He said softly. You'll be saying it for the rest of life, soon enough.
"Valko." You repeated and his wolf purred in his chest.
He shook your hand again, his other hand coming to cover yours completely. "I hope to see you again soon." And then never let you go.
Valko, who was the toughest and most muscular wolf anybody would probably meet in their lifetime, was currently cowering behind the sofa because of you.
"Darling," you purred sweetly, though the slipper you held in your hand was anything but. "Don't be scared. I won't get mad at you."
"Really?" His ears perked up slightly, though he still gripped the edge of the sofa like a shield. "You mean it?"
"Of course I do!" Your voice was entirely too bright, considering the fact that your brand-new pillows were now on the floor of your bedroom, cotton everywhere and cases ripped apart. Valko, being the dumb guy he was, did not register the fakeness in your voice and the very hard shoe ready to be thrown. "Why would I lie to you?"
He let out a sigh of relief, raising his head over the top of the sofa so that you could finally see his full face, giving you a guilty look. "Promise?"
"Did you or did you not do that to my pillows?"
He glanced back at the doorway of your bedroom, looking at the mess he had created. Could anybody even blame him?! You'd been gone for a whole week, telling him you'd only be on your work trip with that slimy fish bastard Rafayel for three days, and you'd left him to his own devices! He missed you, he was irritated, and he was also extremely horny, so yes, maybe he humped your pillows and then maybe he tore them apart in frustration.
And also rolled around on your bedsheet.
And also rutted into your mattress.
"…Yesn't," he mumbled, ears pressing flatter against his head if it was even possible, picking at the loose thread of the sofa.
"I FUCKING KNEW IT!"
He yelped as you flung your slipper at him, chasing him around the sofa. "You piece of shit, come back here!"
"I'm sorry, okay?" He wailed, tail hanging low between his legs as he scurried away, howling as he saw you pull off your other slipper from your left foot. "I didn't mean to, it just happened like that!"
"You didn't mean to ruin these very expensive silk sheets, huh?" Your second throw hit your target head-on, smacking against his cheek. He growled, rubbing the redness starting to bloom before remembering you were the one chasing him, sprinting to the corner of the sofa. "You didn't mean to tear up my new pillows? Do you know how expensive this shit is? Do you know what inflation does to a person?"
"Baby, I promise I'll buy you new ones!" He tried to feint going right, but you were too smart for that, glaring at him from the opposite side of the sofa, ready for whatever bullshit move he tried to pull. "I just missed you, okay? You were gone for so long, there's only so many times a man can jack it before the skin goes raw! Also, who does that painter think he is?" He muttered the last part under his breath, though he probably shouldn't have. At this point, you looked like steam was blowing out of your ears.
"Oh, so that's what this is about!"
"No, god, I didn't mean that," He tried to pull the faithful puppy dog face, one that always worked on you, one that got him out of trouble from spilling wine on your favourite white dress. But no, you still weren't budging. Jesus, how expensive were those pillows?
"It's not my fault you're like a bitch in heat!" Looking around for something else to throw, you grumbled, realising the only things near your hand were more expensive pieces of furniture. He gulped as you started to tie up your hair, before screaming when you climbed over the sofa to get to his side. "HEY HEY THAT'S NOT FAIR THAT'S AGAINST THE RULES-"
"WHAT HAPPENED TO THE RULES WHEN YOU FUCKED MY PILLOWCASE?"
valko my beloved, what we could have had :( you live on in my heart
been seeing those "climbing my boyfriend to see if he'll notice" videos and valko would 1000% let you climb him like a jungle gym while not batting an eye. he doesn't even notice you setting up your phone and pressing record because he's so locked into his work. you would start climbing up onto the back on his chair and fully swinging your legs over his shoulders to the front of his chest. and the only thing he thinks to do is to hold your legs and stabilize you and as you continue your ascent to fully sit on his shoulders.
his eyebrows are still furrowed but softer now that you're in his presence. you tug on his hair like ratatouille and he's so surprised by the force that he yelps and actually goes with you. of course, he catches you and steers you back to center. the giggles are off the charts as valko has been accustomed with your silly ways. you comb his hair back and scratch his scalp as he taps away on his keyboard.
you try and ask questions to see if you can rile him up but he is genuinely so happy with answering them.
"whatcha doin?"
i'm just finishing these reports honey bunches of oats, i'll be done in 10 minutes max.
"what does that mean?"
it's just an identifier we use for the different types of metals we have.
"what should we have for dinner?"
mmm, maybe that yummy chicken you made last week. i thought about it this morning.
"who's my pretty boy?" you reach under his chin and give him the lightest scratch. his eyes sparkle as he looks up at you, giving you that love sick puppy smile that shows his canines.
SYPNOSIS : 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, an office worker is somehow transported in MHA by the means of a broken elevator and is forced to leave the life they held so dear. Faced with the challenges as a severely unprepared, quirkless, nobody. You try your best to avoid canon characters and most events for as long as you live in this wretched world— try as you might, the gods seem to love partaking in your utter dread. You find yourself tossed in the heat of the storyline armed with nothing but wits and your last working brain cells.
TAGS : unedited, mentions of death and blood, typical isekai (8.1k)
AS THE DAY trickled by in a never-ending lick of monotonous clicks and clacks of keyboards and exasperated sighs, you skim over the written document your boss handed you over to review. Constantly pressing on the tab button to write emails to other involved parties for inquiries towards clients and stakeholders within the proposal.
Just another one of those boring word vomits that sent your mind in a frenzy. Whether or not the word ‘resources’ and ‘implement’ is spelled correct, it looks indefinitely wrong and it’s driving you insane.
Sometimes... you feel like a buffoon trying to validate your idiocrasy. If it weren't for the years of constant studying and 'preparing' for the future career your school pressured you to pursue, you like to think— from the deepest, and youngest version of you that loathe the system— they failed to conceptualize the actual experience you need to have for real life work.
Common sense was more of a better lesson than authorities realize.
A puff of air bellows, and a long drawn out sigh escapes you. A childish voice, angered and conspirational, refutes the previous thought with a loud ringing buzzer. 'School was just another ploy to pacify and conform the masses!' The younger voice, although irrefutably you in a sense, continues on in finality. 'The quality of education diminished the more the people understoocd their right! Knowledge is radical, an epiphany to some but words to fools. Control is the basis, the mere core of this whole charade! Think about the discriminated lot who can't escape the injustice and forced labor. Withholding the laws and right to education means less questions and more conform—
You vanish the thought with a meager shake, exhausted with the constant use of your fraying sanity.
As much as you agree with your... conspirational self. You'd rather use that thought process elsewhere— maybe, oh. I don't know to finish the fucking paper you keep procrastinating on?!?
"Balls." you hiss, almost groaning at the blinking cursor and empty document. "Where do I even start...?"
As hard as you rack your brain for any fanfic juice you used in your teens, it's becoming increasingly difficult to focus when your mind seems to wander at some embarrassing shit you did in the past— Oh the horrors of impulsive decisions— will you ever get over the past? probably. If it weren't for how masochistic your mind seems to be in feeding you such memories at a time like this, you would've been done with the paper if it hadn't forced you to remember everything in vivid clarity.
The keyboard clacks as you write a word down, erasing it, and writing another— only to go on google and search up an example template instead.
With matters like this, it's easier said than done with the advantage of technology.
Words splatter and rim each line, using buzzword after buzzword to sell the 'formal' and idealistic corporate way to write a proposal. Your fingers work on its own, each press of the key driving you farther from the once blank page.
Your mind's still wandering, tinkering around miniscule noises and sifting through fleeting memories. It keeps circling back to your teenage years, recalling lines from fanfics you've read— the emotions are ever so prevalent, even when the imagery seems to fade at the seams— the sudden picture of a familiar, holographic screen comes to mind. It's accompanied by a white, billowing coat, and a man with black hair peruses that iconic trench with a charming sass.
Your fingers pause, and you have half a mind to notice the words Dokja and Viewpoint written in a passage of funding— not when you briefly remember a manhwa you’ve read years ago. Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint. One of the holy grails and the epiphany of what it’s like to become a reader.
When the webtoon was finishing its epilogue, you graduated college by then. From the bits of time you had for social media, the fandom was bawling their eyes out at the phenomenal work the studio has done for its ending chapters. It’s been nine years since you first started the manhwa. And now you’re 24 with a bachelor’s degree, working nine-to-five in an office job you never had the qualms of getting.
“Haven’t heard that in a long, long time…” You half-snort, amused with your twisted sense of humor. You pay no mind to the swivel of your co-worker’s stare. You’ve embarrassed yourself too many times to berate yourself for speaking aloud.
You weren't the only crazed person in the world. You'd know because your broth—
A knock resounds by your right, fingers hovering over the mouse before glancing up to meet your intruder. “I didn’t take my sister as a workaholic!” a chirpy voice bounds through your ears like the grating sound of screeching chalk.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
You could hear the neighboring stall heave a hefty sigh at the sound of his voice— and honestly? you don’t blame them.
“Ah, Suga.” you forced a smile at the ashen-haired man. “I can’t believe you bypassed scans and security.”
Your brother tuts, squeezing through your already cramped space like he owned it. “I bumped into Yohanna on the way here. We catched up on gossip until I got here!” Curse your brother and his easygoing nature. If he wasn’t so good at socializing then he wouldn’t have befriended your co-workers.
“And haven’t I told you to call me Onii-chan?” he smiled, snatching your coffee and tainting it with his disgusting saliva as if this was just another monday.
“Drink from my coffee again and I’ll kill you.” you hissed, lifting your feet to step on his slippers as revenge. But the bastard was quick to dodge and evade your attacks.
Curse your brother and his volleyball agility.
“Hey! This is limited edition—” he gapes dramatically, grabbing his ankle to inspect non-existent dust. “Your broke ass got that from FamilyMart.”
“I consider such rare artifacts like these—” he lifts his stinky feet up to display seal socks and worn, gray slippers. “A valuable collection.” your eye twitches as your brother wiggles his toes to assert his claim.
You’re actually gonna kill this guy.
Reigning in your frustration, you swivel your chair to face him fully. “You’re pushing 30 and I’m in my twenties. Get yo’ fucking feet out my face before I break it so hard— ” you snarled, rubbing your temple in a mildly-aggressive circle.
Sugawara gasped as if his whole bloodline was shot. “I’m barely even 28?!” like the ragebaiter that he is, he slumps his whole body weight on top of you, a hand drawn to his head like some damsel in distress. He babbles something along the lines of ‘respecting your older brother’ but it comes out in bursts of laughter as you fail to push him off.
Curse your fatass, annoying brother. How in the world are you related to him— You guess you're not, technically speaking. But you treat him like the brother you've never had. So the better question would be: How in the world did you accept him as your brother??
“Get– oFf me!” you huff out, tugging at his hair and clothes as hard as you can. “And here I thought my cutesy, little sister—” How come you’ve never killed him after all this time? “Would appreciate a homemade bento from your dear ol’ brother!”
Ah…
So that’s why.
Sugawara finally pleaded mercy and pushed out of your lap with ease, pointing at your desk as a wrapped bento suddenly appeared. Waving his fingers like an idiot magician when his supposed magic trick was the world’s most impressive feat he’s ever done.
The faint smell of curry pacified your ire, and you begrudgingly let out a small smile, “Thanks Koshi.”
He watches you for a few moments, before realizing your smile was genuine enough to stop embarrassing himself. “Anytime, sis.” His voice softens considerably, and you pretend to not notice his dimpled grin. Your brother has always been an annoying little shit, but at the end of the day it was just his way to show you he cares.
Even though he gets on your nerves almost all the time, out of the three of you, he’s the only sibling who truly checks up on you. The actual youngest, Rinji Sugawara, is currently in his fourth year of Engineering. The smart and studious sibling that your step-parents consider a prodigy for accelerating early on during his high school years. And now, he bests his peers as the top one in all his classes.
You’re proud of him but sometimes you wished he didn’t shut you out as often as he did.
“Oh!” Sugawara exclaims as he fishes a ticket in his pockets, “before I forget… Are you going to Hinata’s match this Saturday?”
Silence adorned the once noisy floor of keyboards and frustrated sighs, various workers prattled on with their colleagues as they packed their things and prepared to head out. With work finished, you stacked them all up to submit to your manager, who was surprisingly at their desk chatting up a few young girls.
Your eye twitched. Of couse, that old fucking geezer.
Usually, your stinky manager was always out and about. He did nothing but complain about people’s ‘incompetency’ and their ‘inability’ to do their job correctly— You guessed he took the position to gain superior advantage against everyone, not like he had any in the first place.
At the end of the day, your work was done and you’d rather kill yourself than impose more overtime on a stupid desk job.
Walking over your manager’s desk, you reeled your frustration and politely called his name.
“Oh you girls are just too sweet, ain’cha?” his voice took on a sickeningly pitched tone, practically singing his praise. The young girls continued to attain his favor with flowery words, voices high and convincingly interested in what this little shit had to say, but their expressions said otherwise.
You can't believe he's dumb enough not to notice.
You cleared your throat in hopes of catching his attention but to no avail— “Well, I’ll have you know… I’m really good at pleasing the higher-up, y’know?”
Gaylord Farquaad, is that you?
“I also know a trick or two in pleasing women~” A shudder ran through you at lightning speed, and you fear the girl’s hesitant laughter told too much of their growing unease.
A slam startled both your manager and the girls, whilst you strained a partially-convincing smile.
“I’ve finished the work you gave me, boss.” You seethe the last word, sliding the papers across his desk. Before he could protest you leveled him with a death glare. “I think it’s time for us to go home… yeah?”
You turned to the girls and shooed them, and they scurried off almost immediately. Irked with anger, your manager accused you with a shaky pointed finger. “H-hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!!” His chest puffs up like a peacock, inflating the space with this sickening sense of superiority, as if above and beyond the world.
An ego too big for a dick too small.
And you were never affected by small dick behavior.
“Clocking out.” you reply, walking off with a dismissive wave to gather your things. He jolts as if shot, physically unable to comprehend such a simple phrase, growing more and more angry at your ‘display of attitude’ or whatever the hell he’s spouting.
Threats and curses were thrown left and right, but you don’t dignify that with a response. With a voice so perturbing, you’d think he’d use his tone and timbre softer to accommodate such a discordant sound. But apparently, awareness isn’t a trend in men.
Why else would he hurl curses in an empty room?
You mentally note to thank your ragebaiting brother for advising you on using psychological warfare on annoying men. Now that you think about it… wasn’t he saying something about doing that to his longtime crush? The guy named Saragura, right? Something, something about gaining his attention through silly pranks and jokes.
Oh whatever. You don't have the energy to think about allat.
You jog to the elevator in hopes of leaving sooner than later. The siren call of a perfectly iced glass of beer was a bewitching spell of tantalizing golden brown, pearlescent foam, and the rich, sweet malt with caramel, crisp like bread, and notes of pine come together to make a fuller, richer profile than a hoppy beer— the sweet, sweet joys of earning money were always set for buying earthly pleasure, as they say.
Blinking red dots flicker down from floor twelve, and you watch as it stop on floor nine before descending once more.
It’s slow, and boring. Just like the life you currently lead.
There’s nothing extraordinary about work, just the usual gossip and drama that comes with messy people. Once, you heard this girl named Misa Kanbe got a date with the CEO (whose name you also can’t remember) on various occasions. And apparently the girl Misa recommended was actually a glorified good girl who’s actually a stanking bitch who slept with all the guys on her floor.
You think it's a bit exaggerated. But honestly? it just serves as good gossip.
Besides the occasional homewrecker— and unfortunately, there was a lot on other floors— you would drink beer, go home, and sleep.
Sometimes, you feel this sense of inadequacy, of someone unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Just a background character to fill the space. An NPC you see on daily event quests as you finish commissions. A nobody in a magic academy of disney knock-offs— Basically a normal, mundane person without the fantasies that surround the fanfics you've consumed.
And oddly enough, that was fine. But another part of you— granted, a younger part of you— dreamed and wished for a life that centered around you.
Perhaps... that was why you wished your life had a little pizazz here and there.
Or maybe you were just a whining bitch who can't stand going out without the need of a chatty friend to socialize, lest your energy be drained and claim you in a sea of grievances. Mostly about how you wasted your day socializing and going out, but you beg to differ.
Curse the gods who eagerly wishes for your demise—
“—ugh.” a flurry of documents bursts in the air, and a man with dark hair lays down on the ground searching for his glasses similar to Velma. You blink, staring at him with half a mind before crouching down to help him.
As if the universe held a scrounge of pity, lo and behold, the little pizazz you were waiting for bumps into you by fate (you'd like to think it was just a coincidence, but the world has its own way of surprising you it seems.)
But jesus christ— you didn't literally mean it?! Or now, for that matter.
“I’m sorry. I was a bit… distracted.” your voice hovers between apologetic and apathy, and you swear it wasn’t intentional.
He sighs softly, but you notice— And oh. You deign the gods with an array of colorful curses.
With crooked glasses, he reassures you with a small smile. “It’s okay, really.” But a twitch of his eye betrays the seemingly sweet gesture. You jolt internally, guilt biding your gut in waves of unease. It doesn’t help that the bags under his eye seem darker than his own skin tone.
He looks like he’ll drop dead at any moment.
“It was my fault, so I’m really, really sorry.” A stray paper catches your attention as you reach for it the same time the man does himself— The moment your fingers touch with the slightest contact, you pull back with so much force it startles the man with a jerk.
Fuck. You unconsciously sweat. Was that supposed to be my romance arc?
He looks at you incredulously, his glasses illuminating from the fluorescent lights. You cringe at your harsh reaction, grappling at your thoughts to form a coherent reason to explain your brash behavior.
“Uh…” You hand him the papers with an apologetic smile, internally dying inside by your lackluster response.
He seems to study you for a few seconds, before accepting it and standing up himself.
“Thank you…?” he smiles, briefly glancing at you as he rearranges the papers in its original order. “Oh, uh. Call me (name).”
“Seiichirou Kondo. And again, thank you for helping and please don’t apologize, it was an accident, no need to beat yourself up for this.” You nod a bit quickly, half-ashamed to fully reply. Waving goodbye as he enters another wing.
So much for a love story… you cringed at the thought. The universe can suck it for all you care.
The elevator’s chime catches your attention, and out a few workers move past you, including the grumpy, old maintenance guy you swore to never interact with. You enter the elevator and press the ground button, skimming the pad of your fingers over the braille engraved within the plate.
The doors prepare to shut as you catch a glimpse of the man you’ve bumped with earlier, his figure was lax and tired, emanating this aura of exhaustion through his lanky, frail build.
Poor guy.
You hesitantly break your gaze, fingers instinctively coming closer to the ‘hold’ button— shhk!
The doors slid shut with a hiss of air, fluorescent red numbers beeping before preparing for descent. You breathe out a reluctant sigh. You could’ve pressed the button to hold the doors for him, you owe him that much for bumping into him. But as your eyes struggle against the weight of exhaustion, you find no qualms about leaving a man you clearly annoyed.
It was far better if you left him alone, you need to be alone either way. It was a win-win situation in your books.
You lean your head against the cold, metal walls, appreciating its icy but smooth texture. You shut your eyes for a moment of reprieve, unable to resist the call of slumber that threatened to overcome you.
And for a moment, the world quiets down into a bleak, and dark reality. Where the color of soot and ash invade your vision, a speckle of dots in blue and red persists and warps into blobs of shapes. For a second, your vision swims into a wobbly figure: It’s outlined in blue and red, covered in a sheen of gray that pushes and pulls against a current of lines and shapes, its body is black and a touch of gray. One of its legs lifts, and pushes toward you. Slowly but surely, the figure closes its distance, tending a swarm of unease that spills and rushes a sense of dread within you.
Another step of its quivering lines seem to heighten the simmering stock of fear that dawns a twitch to your finger.
A sudden lurch shakes your entire being.
Your mind seems to jolt, ringing alarm bells left and right as you stir and nod your head off the metal wall. Your eyes crack open, blurring and dilating between the image of blinking red dots and a smiling black figure. You raise a heavy hand to rub at your eyes—
“Goodluck.”
A baritone voice echoes through the enclosed space. Your actions halt, eyes widening as it finally adjusts to a chilling clarity— an array of braille and numbers greet you, fluorescent red numbers blink and count down from three. The same metal walls cage you in, it's sleek and smooth.
What...
Your reflection stares back at you in a wavy, distorted expression. You look away before it creeps you, remembering the black figure smiling—
What... the hell was that?
The incessant beat of your heart drums against its confines, sending you waves of dread and agitation. A roll of sweat dribbles down from your forehead, and only now do you notice how sweaty your hands are— and shit. You aren't gonna lie, that was kinda terrifying. But it wasn't as bad as the time you saw your parents going at it when you were young. Or the time Sugawara shoved his dirty feet into your face and showed you the leech that was eagerly sucking the blood out of the skin.
But that wasn't the terrifying part.
It was the close-up image of the hundred razor, sharp teeth that scared you as Suga pulled it out to wave it in front of your face in close proximity—It's suckers were puckering open and close, and you were so fucking scared it'd latch on your nose— That was the fateful day that your brother learned to never, ever, mess with a little girl who'd scream bloody murder and back it up with a kick to both his shin and dick.
"hahh... good times—"
You shriek as the elevator dings, back slamming against the rails with too much force. A hiss of air escapes, as the doors slide open. You stare outside the confined walls of the elevator, where the same hallway of brown tiles and planted greens stood right outside. A photo of the corporation’s director sits neatly atop the same mahogany tabletop you’ve learned to avoid.
For a moment, you stare at the picture frame in distress, truly convinced the man was haunting the halls.
A small, deprecating laugh spills from your bitten lips, “I was dreaming…” shaking your head, you calm your frazzled nerves with a deep breath.
Just... a dream.
Ridding yourself of measly nightmares, you focus on getting out of the elevator quickly. Not wanting a repeat of... whatever devil that spawned in your head.
How many times are you going to curse the gods this day??
Rummaging through your bag, you exit the elevator and fish your airpods and phone out, inserting both buds while pushing the glass doors open. You skim over the various songs and playlists, hoping to find the right song for today’s mood, your mind wanders back to the voice in the elevator, curiosity and unease filling you.
“P–please hold the door!” A voice calls, smooth and lilting.
You hold it wide open, giving the girl a brief glance. Nearly double taking at her eccentric appearance.
There's two horns protruding from her crown, one was chopped and the other was long and stubby, her navy hair, braided in two tails, spills and frames her face beautifully. Her yellow eyes— contacts perhaps..? but it looks so real— creasing into half-moons as she sends you a delighted smile, stopping right in front of you to bow.
What the hell is a cosplayer doing here?
“Thank you so, so much!” you yelp when she reaches for your hands in an over dramatic handshake. “Yeah… it’s no problem…” sheepish and a bit embarrassed, you offer a small, appreciative smile.
That seems to make her already shining grin brighter— is that even possible— the cosplayer reaches into her purse and places a pack of odd-looking hi-chews in your palm, dashing inside the building with a wave of her hand.
“Oh.” you stare at her retreating form, frazzled and a bit confused.
Since when were cosplayers allowed in a corporation?? Was there some sort of event? Why the hell weren’t you notified??
A mortified gasp escapes you, a man with a brick for a head— a fucking brick!!! What the hell is the CEO even planning— bids you a thankful nod as he enters the building.
Your hands nearly shake as you survey the area with a judgmental glare.
“What the fuck.” the street out your workplace seems reworked, as if the whole place was changed in minutes. The buildings were different, grander in their stature, looking more costly than the rundown, brick-layered construction you’ve grown used to seeing.
A timid voice thanks you for holding the door, and dawning realization slaps you right back to reality. How long have you been gawking and holding the door for?!
You chuckle nervously, sweeping back to look at the person with a strained smile— oh my god.
Donatello from TMNT is looking at you in surprise, he likely heard your quiet gasp, whether he was offended or not, he didn’t show it.
“Are y-you… perhaps n-new here?” his voice croaks at the end, and his anthropomorphic face twists in a gruesome wince. And oh, you didn't realize you were biting the skin of your lips in anxiety.
But you can't help it! He just looks so... terrifying.
You gulp, looking away in fear of openly judging the person. You cannot do this. Whatever the fuck is happening got something to do in that damned elevator.
Is this karma for not holding the door? Or are the gods out to get you after cursing them out?
You convince yourself it's the latter. The universe does not pay any mind to an average NPC like you. Probably.
“I’m okay…!” you emphasize reassurance with a jumpy thumbs up. “I was just… admiring! Yes. I was admiring the, uh, cityscape..?” you belatedly realize that wasn’t what he was asking, and you internally facepalm in regret.
Steadying your nerves, you continue, “To answer your question… I’ve been working here for two years now.” you dignify your response with a smile, finding confidence to look back at him.
You suppress the urge to shudder at his expression— gods, why does it wrinkle in all the bad places?!?
Donatello looking guy nods in understanding, cheeks colored an embarrassed hue. “O-oh..! I’m sorry then, senpai—” your eyes nearly bulged at the term, jaw almost dropping in sheer surprise.
Working with seniors all day meant calling each other by last names instead of the honorific. Juniors were sparse in your department, and Nanami, your co-worker, was in charge of supervising the newbies. So hearing that term made you inwardly cringe.
You finally understand Nanami’s displeasure with formalities.
“I have to get going now, my shift starts at any moment now. Thank you, again, for holding the door…! You’re very kind, senpai.” Turtle guy bows and scurries inside. You have half a mind to even question the absurdity of it all, and barely enough energy to gawk, panic, and run around the unfamiliar city.
It's at times like this, you wished you had your brother here to do all the squawking. He'd do you good entertainment to pass the time. Sugawara was a natural charmer, able to dissuade even the hard-headed.
A memory resurfaces, and suddenly you're back in highschool, deadpanning at Sugawara's irritating display of theatrics while introducing you to his team of volleyball enthusiasts.
You were a first year then, and he, your brother, was a third year. Kiyoko, your upperclass-woman— you do not tolerate the use of man to describe a 'goddess' per your second-year upperclassman— convinced you to join the club as a manager. Though you acted more like a supervisor ordering around boys older and some your age.
Not that you care. Your birth mother was keen in being seen as equals or above men who disrespected their counter-gender. She always taught you that disrespect, no matter who it's from, will never be tolerated or allowed in any circumstance. And you listened— of course you did— but that didn't excuse her blatant ignorance when it comes to your actual brothers becoming lazy bums.
Sugawara could never. (Save for being a pervert, at times.)
Besides your... upbringings. That first year in Karasuno High, let you meet similar people to the hard-headed Kageyama and foul-mouthed Iwaizumi. And Kageyama, a first year, was just as rambunctious as the rest of the team. Stubborn, arrogant, and selfish, is what you would have describe him if it weren't for the change that your brother, and he, himself incited.
It was... interesting. To say the least.
To have Sugawara fawning over Kageyama and the other first years like a mother hen, would never not amuse you.
And from those first years, it let you meet a sunny boy. Short in stature and yet, his dreams were as tall as tokyo tower— maybe even higher— and he always promised to reach the skies with you. Whatever that meant, he was endearing and oh-so cute (not that the younger you would ever admit) in his endeavors that you never truly stopped him.
Hinata was never really shy in showing his obvious crush. It only made things interesting after declaring to become a top-tier volleyball player, and absolutely promised to— rightfully, soulfully— become yours. It made your younger heart flutter in emotions you never think would stir.
And when he set his sights on something he wants?
He was for sure doing everything in his little might to fulfill it.
The shocked look of everyone's face— much to a certain blonde's exasperation— including your flabbergasted brother was a sight to behold. You wished Yachi took a picture... you would've framed it and made it your wallpaper.
The ticket to Hinata's game this Saturday roused a mix of feelings.
Mainly, you were curious. You've heard through the Kansai twin that he was reaching the top incredibly fast. With his uncanny agility, stamina, and ability to adjust in almost any game, you placed your faith in Hinata long before he promised to be the world's greatest spiker— now dubbed, The Ultimate Decoy by Atsumu's 'volleyball' standards.
But doubt lingered like a sickly disease.
You trusted Hinata— you swore by it when the two of you bid your goodbyes in the airport— and his drive to fulfill his passion. He's always been a stubborn boy, and last you heard from Kageyama, he actually grew taller and bulkier during their last match in Sendai. Though... you have yet to meet the golden boy. Work was rough and money was tight (beer money took half of your funds), and fear, that treacherous thing, drilled this sense of mistrust in Hinata the moment you two went AWOL to pursue different careers.
Promises were fickle, and as passionate as Hinata— Shoyo is, you're scared. Scared to be proven right when he comes back with another girl in his arm. Waving your loyalty off as if you didn't spent years yearning and longing for him to just, take you. Make you his, irrefutably and irrevocably his.
Much to your chagrin, the ticket is sunny orange—just like his curls and wondrous eyes— Initially, you grimaced upon seeing such color. But now? you find it comforting, easing your boy troubles with the smidge of warmth he exudes. Its texture is smooth, formed with a special kind of paper instead of the flimsy one. And yet, it wrinkles, creases under the weight of your thumb as you absentmindedly circled the braille protruding.
He told you, inherently promised that he'd be yours. He even declared it twice: the first in highschool, and the last in the airport when he traveled to Brazil to learn more about volleyball.
It was easier said than done.
The thought sears through your bones and flesh like an effervescent flame. Burning through the last remnants of yearning and hope you had the moment you stepped foot in this estranged, futuristic copy of your world.
It’s not like you’re that dumb.
As the rational and most ‘mature’ out of your step-siblings— Sugawara’s words not yours— deduction and assumption has become one of your closest friends. Taking note of your surroundings, there’s multiple mutants and hybrids walking around, the normal-looking people (with rare colored hairs and eyes) don’t even bat an eye.
An abundance of posters litter the streets and billboards. Bright and vibrant colors halo the figures, faces plastered with heroic grins, and personal taglines are written besides the hero.
If that doesn’t confirm your suspicions, maybe the gigantic poster of a certain blonde hunk, striking a pose with one hand in the air and the other in his hip can truly convince you— you don’t even need to read the bold, enlarged motto of “I am here!” to prove your circumstance— because there’s no mistaking it.
It doesn’t take a whole ‘dying then reincarnating into a baby while crying until you miraculously catch an image of All Might to realize you’re in an anime’ kind-of thinking process.
You feel a budding headache start to rise, so— for the sake of your sanity and the list of growing pains— you decide to stay in denial. To act as if, it was just another Monday afternoon.
A click of your tongue. “Mondays…” you seethe, far more exhausted than you’ve always been.
“It’s always a Monday.”
You heave an exasperated sigh, popping two pieces of cherry-colored chews in your awaiting mouth, the flavor is somehow brighter than actual hi-chews. Although, you hope it doesn’t linger… you can’t drink beer with the taste of cherry-melon in your buds.
That would ruin your scheduled drinking, and you’re nothing but stubborn. To give up such pleasures in life is an atrocity you aren’t willing to consider— even if you got transported to My Hero Academia— absolutely nothing will deter you from getting that beer.
Fuck them kids.
You ain’t mentally prepared for quirk wars, anyways.
You trudge down the path to your favorite yakitori shop, muscle memory taking over as you steer past bizarre looking people— and thankfully the universe seemed to take pity on you, because even though the exteriors changed, the route to home and beer didn’t.
Well... hopefully it didn't.
You don't know how you're going to live if the apartment just... disappeared.
Now that you think about it, did Sugawara and Rinji disappear too? Or is it all the same—
The familiar flutter of a black and red banner almost made you trip. The dainty, rusty stall stood amongst the throes of advanced architecture. A quaint and easy to miss establishment if it weren’t for the delicious smell of yakitori and gyoza.
Just outside the stall, an old, scruffy-looking woman eyes you up and down. Scrutinizing your wondrous eyes and greets you inside with a brisk ‘welcome’.
To think your favorite yakitori shop is still the same after transportation.
Hope bubbles up and you’re half-convinced your apartment is still here. You’d have to confirm that for later because right now? The only thing grounding you is the sweet promise of golden malt and glazed chicken.
“Two beers and one yakitori please!”
"— I'M STANDING right outside the Lynsekai Corporation Building, which remains partially closed tonight as investigators work to determine what went wrong. Earlier this evening, several hours after business operations had ended, a maintenance worker discovered a malfunctioning elevator car inside the building's east shaft." the television droned on in the background, as a gray haired man paced around the living room in worry.
Sugawara desperately dialed your number for the nth time, his lips are raw and bloody from being bit too many times— there's a blooming dent inside his cheeks, but he has half a mind to realize his nervous ticks are causing pain.
The youngest brother watched the news with quiet apprehension, gripping the leather cushion with crushing force. His glasses are perched on his messy hair, no doubt messed up from the amount of time Rinji brushed through them.
Fuck fuck fuCk FUCK—
Sugawara stifles a sob, clutching his hair in a vice-like wrench. "Why won't she pick up...!"
Firstly, you didn't come home at your designated time. No message to announce your abrupt departure— and nothing is going through his calls.
Secondly, Sugawara called your favorite yakitori shop, the one you often went to after work to drink and eat. The owner's voice was thick with unease, stating that he hasn't seen you outside or anywhere within the vicinity.
And now?
The news started spouting nonsense about an accident in the building you worked in. The corporation Sugawara recommended you to pursue out of convenience— He knew how much you hated hour-long commutes, and out of his brotherly goodness, Sugawara went out his way to find a suitable place for you to work in.
He wouldn't have recommended it if he knew.
"Inside the elevator, authorities say, was the body of a single individual— According to preliminary information, the person had been alone at the time of failure. The discovery was made just after 10:30 pm, when a long-time maintenance employee attempted to use the elevator during routine rounds. When the elevator failed to respond properly, the worker manually accessed the shaft and found the car stalled between floors with a broken beam pole wedged inside."
If Sugawara knew... you'd be home enjoying your favorite movie. You'd be home enjoying his home-cooked meals. You'd be home bantering and wrestling him down as Rinji all but sighs in irritation. You'd be home an—
Rinji dared to look at his panic stricken brother, tears brimming the corner of his eyes. The two lock sight, silently exchanging their doubtful thoughts and unspoken fears.
The older brother pursed his lips, almost tripping as he rushed over to hold his younger brother. Murmuring reassurances and promises he knew were deceptive. Tears stream unbidden, and Sugawara finds himself breaking at the warmth his brother rarely offered.
This was one of the few instances, where Rinji— his intelligent, closed-off prodigy— willingly embraced him.
The circumstance that brought them together made him internally chuckle. The irony of the situation is too absurd. Too unreal to truly comprehend.
"Investigators suspect the obstruction interfered with the car's descent and caused a malfunction. It pierced the wall and unfortunately the lone victim in the elevator—"
A loud, startling slam makes both brothers jump in surprise. Hope festers and blooms, and Sugawara finds himself sprinting down the halls to find you—
"(n-name!) why the hell did you not—"
"Where is she?" a flurry of ginger hair all but barrels inside, hastily slipping his shoes off with a visible shake. Sugawara falters, giving the boy a once-over at his disheveled state.
"H-Hinata.. what are you doing he—" the older brother splutters, noticing Sawamura and Atsumu trailing behind Hinata. A solemn look paints Daichi's normally placid expression, the apology is written all over his face as he brings his eyes down, and Sugawara swears—
He swears he feels his heart plummet at the motion.
"Where's my (name)?" Hinata catches his breath, heaving hard and heavy as he fixes Sugawara with a fearful glare. He nearly loses it when Sugawara hesitates to answer, locked in a trance as Hinata pushed past his former senior with a harsh shove. Sugawara stumbles, hitting against the wall with an audible thwack— but the pain doesn't register. It fails to process in Sugawara's mind, and oh, he's crumpling to his knees. And oh.
He's crying. Tears are gushing more and more and oh— a bitter laugh escapes him before he could reign it in. Daichi's worried voice rings in his ears, and Suga has half a mind to realize he's supported by both Atsumu and Daichi. He glances at the two, primarily at Atsumu's distressed and red-rimmed eyes.
And oh...
Suga belatedly realizes they're shouting something. Words are spewing and he doesn't understand them— how could he? he thought... he had hoped it was you to barrel down the door. To curse the 'gods' and universe you seem to hate out of spite. He had hoped it was you to shove him aside, irked by his incessant ragebaiting techniques as if you haven't put up with him for years.
He chokes on another bout of hysterical laughter, gripping whoever's hands is on him— he doesn't know and he doesn't know what happened to you. He doesn't know, and shit. He's just a shit brother, that's what he is— and he cries and cries and cries, until the well bursts in a fiery gasps of ugly sobbing and pleads for something. Anything.
The ginger crosses the halls in a dizzying spell. He's never felt like this since losing that match with Kamomedai High. Everything is just so... small. Disorienting in size, as objects seem to appear in and out of frame.
None of this makes any sense—
First, the elusive younger brother of the Sugawara's called him. Before he could even chirp a gasp and a dramatic 'hello!', he immediately stiffens when he heard Rinji's frenzied voice, asking him if he's heard of you— his sweetheart. His beloved, and light of his whole world— in the past four hours.
Hinata barely understood a thing, but it involved you, so he knew he had to hurry. To hurry for what was the question that lingered in his mind, but he didn't care— He couldn't, not when it involved you.
Even when his teammates demand an answer, he barely budged as he ran out of the hotel room with a sweater he haphazardly put on and mismatched shoes that was definitely not his, or his size for that matter. Bokuto shrieked as he tried chasing down the swift decoy barefoot and shirtless, whining about his stolen shoes and favorite sweater.
Sure, Hinata barely understood a thing— but when Rinji slurred, "She's gone– missing." He has never felt so faint until that very moment.
If it weren't for Atsumu catching him did Hinata sober up.
"Where the hell you think yer goin?!" the blonde asked, surprised and huffing in sweat. He no doubt ran after the ginger's abrupt escape, leaving him and his team baffled at his urgency. "What could have possibly got you all—"
"(Name's) missing." Hinata had stared at Atsumu in an uncanny, eerie stare. Eyes wide and dark in trepidation. Shock mars Atsumu's short irritation, silently asking for information through their shared eye contact.
"Well- fuck." a hand rests against disheveled blonde locks, "Call 'chi and drive us over Suga's. I'll tell the others to stay put."
Daichi ran over five stoplights after he heard about your disappearance. Thankfully, his position as an officer made for a good excuse in 'chasing' the two criminals he was investigating, allowing leeway to run over another six red lights to hightail it to Sugawara's residence.
Over the radio, he reluctantly abused— by Hinata's stern demand— his high rank and reputable image to coerce information about a woman recently gone missing in the past five hours or so.
"We don't have a... Sugawara (Name) in our records." the radio picked up on the woman's prickling suspicion. Daichi looks over the rearview mirror, sending the two a confused brow before swerving hard to avoid collision. Atsumu yelps, clutching the handle in half-muttered prayers.
"There's so many similar names, Sawamura. And first of all, why are you even asking? Y'know the precinct won't—"
"Try (Last Name) (Name)." Hinata blurts out, earning a confused 'who is that?!'. Daichi only huffs in reply, barking out an order to confirm it. The radio clicks off, silencing the woman's questions and demands.
"I told you to stay silent, didn't I?"
None of it mattered though.
You still weren't here. And Hinata feels sick in the stomach.
Just when he finally, finally got back—
He couldn't control the tremors that racked his whole body— nor the doubts that told him the worse. A voice would whisper that you were gone, kidnapped, and taken right before he could fulfill his promise to you. Countless imagery of your pale and limp body scattered among his vision like a lucid nightmare, preying on the surmounting guilt that steadily rose.
The television was a cacophony of words he didn't pay attention to. The youngest, sat by the couch was still and stricken with tears. His eyes was pinned to the live feed of the report, lips quivering at the familiar figure laid and drenched in pixelated blood.
Just when he was about to ask you to be your boyfriend. To be yours forevermore—
Hinata slowly, slowly, glances at the feed— Chest caving in at the onslaught of dread that threatened to swallow him whole. And oh— there you are. Body carried between three enforcers, as they take your limp body out the wrangled elevator door. Although pixelated and blurred, Hinata will always recognize you anywhere. Even if it was just a silhouette or wisp of your hair, his heart, his soul, will remember you always.
And oh... He shudders an exhale, sinking down on the couch. That means... you're...
"—The individual has been identified as 24‑year‑old (Last Name) (Name), an employee of the firm, after next of kin were notified.”
Just when he was about to be yours, the gods were truly and irrevocably cruel in their way of taking the light he sought most in the world.
blood drip divider by @xspritualism ; line divider by @cafekitsune ; quotev version
a/n : decided to post this here too bcs i lwk forgot to post it weeks ago... will be posting a chapter list later on
edit: here's the chapter list or main panel for Bound!
pairing: bf!valko x f!reader
cw: none, fluffy fluff fluff, established relationship
a/n: there's something so sexy about a man who's good with kids and respects/takes care of his parents. especially someone who's the eldest...
valko bf headcannons!
Valko masterlist
ᯓ★ family man valko who always thinks of his family when you two go shopping. no matter what you're buying or at what store you're at, he mentions them and buys things for them. "my cousins love these chips", "auntie said she needed a new one of these." etc. etc.
ᯓ★ family man valko who can cook pretty well. nothing extraordinary, but better than average. he learned from helping his auntie, mom, and grandma in the kitchen at family gatherings. but since he's so busy nowadays, he doesn't really have the time to cook proper meals apart from his prep meals for working out.
ᯓ★ family man valko who's really good at playfighting with his cousins. knows how to be rough enough so that they're amused, but never too rough to hurt. loves provoking them.
"really? there's four of you and you still can't take me down?" he scoffs mockingly, standing in the middle of the living room.
he holds an arm up, one child hanging from his bicep, swinging back and forth to try and make him fall. another is standing on the couch behind him with their arms around his neck in a chokehold, huffing and puffing to make him stagger. the other two are each clinging to his legs, trying to throw him off balance.
but nothing works, valko stands there unmoving like a statue. you watch in amusement with your arms crossed. he throws them another mocking comment, but you cut him off, pouncing on him and finally making him fall back against the plush couch.
his cousins shout in victory, finally getting off of him and running to their moms to go brag about finally "defeating" their eldest cousin. meanwhile, the two of you are still in the living room.
he stares up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, speechless. you make yourself comfortable atop his chest, grinning down at him. "shouldn't have spoken so soon, huh?"
"... you're crazy. what if I got hurt?" he asks, still bewildered.
"rub some dirt on it." you whisper teasingly before pushing yourself off of him and joining the kids.
but he's left lying there, staring at your retreating figure with dilated pupils like he just fell in love with you all over again.
ᯓ★ family man valko who's the eldest child of the family. so he's always been the one to buy them things and give them lifts. they all come to him for advice, and confide their biggest secrets and problems to him. they also all look up to him and wholeheartedly believe he's the coolest person to ever exist. they all love him to death, more than he'll probably ever know.
ᯓ★ family man valko who was the type to send out the youngest kids (aka the favorites) to the parents and tell them "go tell auntie you wanna eat take out. but don't say I sent you, okay?" and the poor kids, who tried their best to impress and please their favorite cousin, always nodded vigorously while he ruffled their hair, and acted like they'd been sent out on a mission with their life on the line.
ᯓ★ family man valko who gets crazy baby fever watching you play with his baby cousins. the fact that they all love you and welcomed you with open arms was already a good sign. but with you returning their love and affection so easily, as if they were your own, it only melted his heart more. he loved watching you from afar, as you giggled with them, tugging their cheeks, showering their heads and faces with kisses. he could only imagine how you'd be with your guys' future children.
valko rests his face in his hand, covering his growing smile with the heel of his palm. you're lying on the carpet of the room, surrounded by toys and children as they playfully tug at you, bite your hair, your face, your fingers. maybe other people would find it gross, but you didn't mind it. you reciprocated it instead. and valko loved you all the more for it.
one of the older cousins, who's closer in age to him, stands near him, eyeing him skeptically. "you've got it bad." they comment with a scoff.
that seems to snap him out of his trance. "what're you talkin' about?" he feigns ignorance.
"you're looking at her with those "I'm gonna put a baby in you" eyes." they chuckle.
his face flushes, and he frowns. "hey, don't talk about her like that." he throws a pillow at their face.
they dodge it skillfully, being used to it from all the years of playfighting at sleepovers with him. "just telling it how I see it." they shrug before walking off.
valko tries to ignore their remark, but he knows it's true. you'd make him the happiest man in the world by making him a father.
ᯓ★ family man valko who's phone wallpaper used to be a family photo for the longest time. now that he's an adult and has a big boy job at a tech company, he's further away from them, and thus can't see them as often. so he liked seeing them everytime he opened his phone, it reminded him of who he was doing all this for.
ᯓ★ family man valko who has since then changed his phone wallpaper. it's still a family photo he took at one of their dinners. but the main difference―one he deemed very important―was your presence in the photo. you were sat in the midst of all his cousins, and were holding the youngest in your lap, cuddling her like she was a teddy bear with your cheek pressed against the top of her head. if he could, valko already would've put this photo up in a museum. but having it printed and framed in his living room was enough for now.
ᯓ★ family man valko who encourages roughhousing against him with his cousins, but does not play when it comes to you. he knows them, he can take them, and he's used to them. but he worries about you getting overwhelmed. I can only imagine his conversation with them before they met you for the first time.
"no tugging, no pulling, no kicking, no punching―" he looks them all in the eye one by one, with his index finger pointed at them, his tone severe. "―and most important of all, no biting. do I make myself clear?"
they pout, not liking being told off. playfighting was their way of showing excitement. "... fine." they mumble.
but he shakes his head, unsatisfied. "I said, do I make myself clear?" he repeats.
they immediately straighten their postures. "yessir!" they shout in unison.
"good." he nods once, his smile returning to his face, before reaching out and ruffling their hair. "now go get ready, she'll be here any minute."
ᯓ★ family man valko who was shocked by your reaction when you learned of this. upon meeting them for the first time they seemed a little pouty or sad, like they were hiding something. and when you finally asked them what was wrong after valko left the room, and they told you everything, you were a little angry.
"valko! did you tell them not to play with me?" you frown once he comes back.
he freezes in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes. "... I did. why?"
"well look at what you did to them, they're all sad now." you stand up.
"they'll be fine―" he scoffs with a nervous laugh. "don't fall for their puppy eyes."
you roll your eyes at him before holding both your hands out to the kids. "c'mon guys, let's go play outside and leave your lame cousin here."
their pouty faces morph into bright smiles as they all jump up, grab onto you and follow you out.
valko's left standing in the midst of the living room, baffled. "... they already like her more than me?"
ᯓ★ family man valko who never cusses at family gatherings out of fear of the kids hearing him. not even when it's just the adults and elder cousins. he doesn't want any of them picking up on bad habits.
ᯓ★ family man valko who's feminism stems from the fact that his pack is a matriarchy. with having so many important figures in his life that he looks up to being women, he naturally respects and loves them. was actually kind of shocked when he realized that that wasn't the norm in the world outside of his family, because it just makes sense to him.
ᯓ★ family man valko who eventually realized he had to learn to share you with his family. he couldn't blame them for loving you so much, since he was guilty of the same thing, but it still annoyed him a little every now and then.
"big sis, big sis! do you wanna play just dance with us?" the twins barge into the room where you and valko had run off to to hide from all the noise of the function. his teenage bedroom, to be exact.
your eyes soften, and you open your mouth to reply but he cuts you off.
"maybe later guys, she's busy with me." he folds his arms over his chest.
"whaaat? no fair, you've had her for like―a million hours!" they whine, grabbing at the doorknob, swinging it open and close repeatedly.
you laugh at their gesture and the way he rushes over to make them let go of the door. "yeah, well, she's my girlfriend. and she's tired, let her rest." he huffs.
you stick your head out from behind him to stare down at the pair of children. "actually―I'm not tired." you beam at them. they shout in unison and grab at your hands while jumping up and down.
valko gives you an exasperated side-eye. "why do you hate me?"
you chuckle as they start tugging you back downstairs to the living room, making sure to grab his hand along the way. "quit being dramatic and show me your dance moves, c'mon."
he rolls his eyes, but the second you turn away to face the twins infront of you, a smile breaks out on his face.
ᯓ★ family man valko who used to get teased by his aunties and especially his grandma whenever he'd come home without a plus one during the holidays. they'd hover around him, pinching his cheeks, grabbing and brushing his hair, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes while calling him handsome and intelligent and wondering why he still hadn't brought anyone home yet. you can imagine their excitement when they finally met you, and knew from your scent alone that you were perfect for their valko.
sum: chan is having a hard time not missing you while he’s on tour, missing you even when you’re doing facetime with him.
wc: 1.3k
cw: lowercase, this is very sweet, don’t be fooled by the “dead wife” on the title, it’s all just Banter™️ and people being lovingly missed -but no one dies dw. <3
[🔸★💗★🔸]
when his back finally touches the so mercifully cold fabric of his bedsheets, chan doesn’t even dare to move beneath the covers.
he lets out a groan that could’ve contained stress and tiredness across several generations, and now is released as his eyes flutter close, not quite tired —he wishes he could be that lucky— but itchy in that sleepy way that tells him he’s well over his bedtime.
but, to be fair, could anyone blame him? love makes people a little bit crazy.
“chan-ahhhh,” your voice echoed in the hotel room through his computer, left not too far away from the bed, sitting on the dark desk table there. “muffinnnn,” you teased.
chan knew himself to be a weak man. and a weak man knows no law. or what was it?
“oh noooo,” your voice echoed with that electric sound coming from the computer call. if chan’s eyes were open, he could see you lying on your bed, arms folded beneath your face with one hand holding your face up as you made silly faces at the screen. “baby, your camera’s off.”
a weak man knows no law? no, that can’t be. a something man knows no something. god, english can be such a prick of a language sometimes.
it only came to chan’s head when you started making kissy sounds from your end of the facetime. drowning. a drowning man knows no law. and it only occurred to him because chan would’ve given by now exorbitant amounts of anything, there it be money or else, to be drowning in your kisses as you spoke.
“mmmm,” he hummed all smily, knowing you could hear it from the other end.
“darling,” you mumbled softly, sweet as so many different things that chan would probably get type one diabetes if he tried them all one after the other.
you teased him. “you’re soooo sleepy, mr. chan.” your accusation was met with nothing but silence, so you knew you were right. “you should sleep, honey,” you spoke, softer again.
chan let out tiny whines and moans as he stretched himself.
you hummed, smiling. “mmm, hot boy noises.”
“yes,” he let out before relaxing his body again, now less tense. “your hot boy,” he giggled, the smile rolling off his tone.
there was a bit. two. he turned his head over and looked at the camera.
maybe it was how you were the closest thing he could get to have you there with him, in the flesh, and still, the computer screen could never be enough, or maybe he was just very sleepy indeed, but before he could think too much about it, he let out a soft,
“i miss you so much i get flashbacks of you when i close my eyes.”
and the worst part is that the affirmation wasn’t just said to hear your lovingly cute giggle and the “awww baby” that you let out before, or to see your face all smiley on his computer screen. It was true.
“really?” you asked all giggly, like just the mere thought of your boyfriend thinking of you could turn your heart and your brain into fluffy mush.
it was something like that, to be honest.
“i swear,” he sighed softly, both loving and tired.
“what do you see? Is it like, do you picture me like in dead wife flashbacks, or like, more of a powerpoint of me’s.” you rambled, also starting to feel sleepy.
he snorted, and snuggled into himself, lying on the bed the closest he could be to the computer.
“dead wife?” he let out, “i don’t want my wife to die.”
you cackled, your chest all warm and fuzzy just because he uttered the w-word. “im not dead yet, silly. you don’t know what dead wife flashbacks are?”
maybe chan knew what it was. maybe he’d seen some in a couple of movies here and there. but, it was the perfect excuse to keep hearing your voice and watching you talk as you snuggled against your pillow at the other side of the screen.
he’d be a fool not to take it.
“what are you even talking about.”
you snorted at his tired confussion, and answered the question he was too tired to ask with the necessary questioning tone. “it’s like, in movies, when the main character’s partner dies, usually when they also have a child together, and there’s always like, old videos of usually him recording her while they’re like, on the beach late in the day and the sun is going down and it shines against her and she’s laughing, or something,” you licked your lips, yawning.
he yawned back, the damn thing ever so contagious.
he closed his eyes again, and now tried to imagine you in the way you just described. but, without noticing, he turned around and opened his eyes again, staring at the screen.
“i see my beautiful girl,” he started, his heart softening when he saw your smile on the screen. “she’s all smiley. i see her in a computer screen, lying on her bed,” he chuckled as you started cackling.
“so you just see me in your flashbacks?”
it wasn’t just you. it was you. he didn’t need anything else but you. and he loved you. he loved you, warm, and solid, and equally soft, and tender, and all so… yourself. he’s truly mad for you. and it’s all madness. the one that made him unable to think about all this properly, let alone put it into words —not when there’s so many things left to be said.
he loved you. he’d be nothing but a fool if he didn’t mention the way he was obsessed with every square milimeter of your skin. he wanted to crawl beneath it and cover himself with it like a blanket. he wanted to swim in the ever so shimmery colour of your eyes.
but this was all too much to let out for sleepy, sleepy chan. so he blinked slowly as he looked at you.
“yeah,” he sighed instead, smile still on his face. “no wives killed in the process.”
you let out a soft giggle at his sleepy humour.
“it’s so unfair that your camera’s off,” you then mumbled, your face snuggled in your pillow.
chan shrugged, even though you couldn’t see him. “I turned off the lights, so the camera can’t really see anything. maybe that’s why it turned off.”
“maybe,” you nodded softly.
there’s a beat in which none of you spoke, and then you sighed.
“my love.”
he found himself in awe at how soft the words came out. It tickled his heart, warming it. chan blinked, looking at his computer’s screen.
“i’m so in love with you,” he mumbled. “i miss you so much. two months without seeing you is torture,” he almost whined. “and there’s still a month left.”
“i miss you too. so much.” you smiled sofly, honesty oozing off of it. “i should let you sleep.”
you giggled at chan’s dramatic whine, as you started to drag out the moment you’d need to hang up the call. but you couldn’t help but smile. maybe because you were so in love with your boyfriend he had already drove you mad.
or maybe because of the plane ticket you had, scheduled in a couple days.
but, to be fair, could anyone blame you? love makes people a little bit crazy.
[🔸★💗★🔸]
~kats, who'S POSTING AFTER ALMOST A YEAR?? …yeah, um, sorry, my dudes. this doesn’t mean im back (because writer’s block is still out to fucking catch me and i don’t like making promises i could break) but this short bit came out in a whim and i miss my little tumblr blog corner <3 hope y’all don’t hate me for this one.
Mc moves to Devildom permanently, as does their cats
How the relationship between your cats and the brothers work
2395 words | gn reader
When Diavolo gave you the offer to permanently move to Devildom, you readily accepted. On one condition.
Your cats. You lovely, darling cats you had in the over world. The cats you cried over abandoning until Barbatos comforted you, explaining the little creatures were to be well taken care of during your stay.
But moving long term means you need your babies. Even if Lucifer looked less than pleased at your conditions.
Lucky for you, Barbatos quickly arranged for your cats to be brought to their new forever home.
Now the house is stocked with cat food, toys and treats for the tiny orange tabby, butter, and the large long haired Siberian ragdoll, Tofu.
But… How well do they get along with everyone?
Lucifer
Lucifer had a hard rule: no pets.
Which is notably hypocritically, considering cerberus. Also considering Mammons gaggle of crows he communed with could definitely be considered pets… and henry…
Okay, Lucifer told the younger siblings no pets while repeatedly breaking the rules for his and the older brothers' benefit.
Alas, then came Butter and Tofu.
Safe to say, the first two months were spent diligently avoiding the two fluffy kitties.
Picking cat hair off his clothes with a disgusted face, using a spray bottle to stop them from scratching the furniture and ignoring when butter screamed his head off in an attempt to have some of Lucifer's food.
However, Tofu is quite the charmer.
A large yet tiny and delicate fluffy ball of love. A little shy but needy for affection. A sly bastard who can open doors.
Specifically Lucifer's bedroom door. So she can lay on his pillows and stare unblinking, unmoving, and desperately adorable.
With a soft knock you open Lucifer's study, it's late and a Friday, yet you haven't seen tofu for hours.
“Sorry, but have you seen Tofu she didn’t come down for dinner and-” you stop dead in your tracks, looking at the opposing embodiment of pride frozen in a plush red chair.
With a glass of demonus in one hand, and the other mid stroke along the purring cats back.
“Oh-” You giggle a little, composing yourself, “Sorry, if you could show her where her food is later that’d be great. I’ll leave you too alone.” You begin to leave, closing the office door.
“Wait!” Lucifer almost gets up, but tofu gently kneads his leg, causing him to stay put, “This isn’t-” You don’t hear him as the door clicks shut.
Smiling to yourself, you take a moment before speed walking to the planetarium to tell Belphie what you just saw.
Mammon
Listen, mammon is overjoyed you are moving in permanently.
Obviously he won't ever tell you that. But the idea of you moving back to the human world where you will age and die and he will never see you again makes him genuinely sob into his pillow at least once a week.
Just… cats? Really?
They are mean and shed everywhere and butter is notorious for breaking into his room and sleeping on the hood of his car.
Genuinely, multiple times a week he’s shooing the little guy out of his room.
And, he gets it, really. From a distance they are cute. But that's not his vibe. Until one night of course.
It's dark, even for Devildom. The Mammons room is no different, room pitch black as he lays in bed.
Shirtless and sweating for all the wrong reasons as he clutches a pillow tight to his chest. Lately… his nightmares have gotten worse. He awoke screaming, thrashing and already crying numerous times this month.
This is one of those times.
Where he's sobbing into a pillow, wings tucked close to his body as he cries over a dream he doesn’t even remember but it doesn’t stop the never ending tears.
He's so distracted he doesn’t hear the little orange menace use his little paws to pull Mammon's door open. Only when a small pressure is placed on the bed does Mammon sit up, eyes blood shot.
“Come on…” he mutters weakly, swatting at butter. Alas, butter merely dodges and walks closer, placing a small toy mouse. A black one with a pretty golden bell attached on the base of its tail.
Gently nudging it towards the demon with his paw, Butter lays down, choosing Mammon’s bed to be the place to be tonight.
Picking up the disgruntled mouse toy, Mammon sighs, laying down, a soft orange cat snuggled into his chest, purring and warm.
Perhaps purrs are healing, because Mammon awakes in the morning from a dreamless sleep, no cat in sight but the little black mouse still sitting on his pillow.
Leviathan
He’ll be honest, they give him anxiety.
What if they knock over his shelves? Oh no, what if they damage his limited edition figures?! Tear his manga?! No! No cats. None.
You didn’t raise particularly obedient animals however.
After a long day of attending R.A.D, Levi quickly scurries into his room, already stripping off the complicated uniform.
Kicking his shoes that way, throwing his jacket over there, all the way down to boxers as he looks for his hoodie and ohmydiavolo the cats are on his gaming chair.
Unblinking, unmoving, as a demon stands practically naked before them, perfectly content as tofu sits on the back of the chair and butter sits on the seat.
“Get- you-” Leviathan scrambles for a hoodie, a blanket, a pair of pants, anything. Eventually finding himself far more prepared in a blue hoodie and black plaid pajama pants.
“Could you-” he stands nearly five feet away from the cats, almost scared to get closer, “just, leave? Like, out the door?” he gestures to the door, they don’t move.
Frustrated and unsure of how to handle this situation Levi just sort of… stares at them for a few minutes, until eventually, by some miracle, Butter gets up.
Stretching his little booty high in the air as his front claws gently prick the seat, making Leviathan wince, he jumps off the seat and makes his way to the tub.
Gently placing his front paws on the rim, he looks over the edge before deciding this is the exact place he needs to be and jumps in, spinning around a few times before sitting down and placing his head on his paws.
Leviathan, deciding to choose his battles, turns back to Tofu, "just don't move, okay?”
Slowly and carefully, Levi sits in the gaming chair, putting on his headphones and botting up his system.
Tofu doesn’t seem to mind, tail slowly flicking back and forth, occasionally brushing past Leviathan's cheek, causing him to tense for only a moment.
In the end, she’s quite a good gaming partner and Butter has found his favorite bed.
Satan
It was obvious how Satan was going to react when the brothers found out two cats were moving in.
He was absolutely ecstatic, practically vibrating from excitement, and he was one of the first to meet the little critters.
Due to the large environment change, you wanted Tofu and Butter to have the chance to slowly acclimate to their new homes.
Understand the new smells, noises, temperatures, daylight cycle, everything. So for the first few weeks they stayed in your room, occasionally venturing into hallways when most people were out or exploring when the house was empty.
Satan happened to be home when they explored one time.
Exiting his room and walking to the kitchen, Satan goes to prepare a study snack, yet he is stopped dead in his tracks when Butter and Tofu sit at the entrance.
Lounging around, Butter has stretched himself as long as his little body can go, Tofu remains in a rather dignified loaf, both watching Satan.
Safe to say all plans on food and studying get thrown out the door. Slowly, as to not make any sudden movements, Satan lowers himself to sit on the floor, barely two feet away.
“Hello,” he practically whispers, slowly getting down to lay on his stomach, thank diavolo none of his brothers are home, “aren’t you two darling?”
Satan tentatively reaches a hand out, placing it delicately on the floor in front of the kitties, close enough for them to sniff if they choose, far enough they can turn away.
Butter seems to watch Tofu, who gets up from her loaf, stretching as he claws scratch slightly against the tiles. She takes a step and gingerly leans her head down, sniffing Satan's hand.
He sits there with batted breath, frozen in place.
It's hard to tell how long Tofu judges his entire existence, but she decides he is worthy and licks his hand, rubbing against his arm as she walks closer.
“Hi, honey.” Satan smiles, petting Tofu as she rubs all over him. Butter follows her lead, getting up and invading any form of personal space in an attempt to get as much attention as possible.
The study session does continue, but now with two cats in his bedroom.
Asmodeus
Cats are cute, that's true.
But, much like Mammon, Amsodeus hates how much they shed.
Those sheets cost more than any mortal makes in their life and now there is cat hair all over it!
Plus the smell, the grooming, and the shitting in a box has never been very… appealing to Asmo.
Unfortunately for Asmo, Butter loves his private bathroom. Maybe Butter just likes tubs, but sitting on the porcelain, stretched out as he naps, seems to be a favorite pastime of his.
Asmodeus hums to himself as he walks into his private bathroom, wrapped in a pink silk robe with feathers on the ends, a green face mask setting into his skin and fluffy pink slippers.
Walking to one of the large and ordained shelves, he picks up a few different products for the water, flower petals, skin care products and hair care products.
Sitting down on the edge of the tub and placing them next to him he moves to turn on the faucet but is stopped by an orange mass.
“Oh!” taking a sharp intake of breath, Asmo pulls his hand away from the faucet, instead reaching out to gently tap butter's forehead.
Letting out a small prrrrt, Butter blinks open his eyes, dilated as he looks at Asmo.
“Well aren’t you a cutie?” Asmodeus giggles, watching Butter get up and walk to him, “I’m trying to take a bath here, ya know?”
Butter doesn’t seem to care, hopping up onto the large edge of the tub and making that his resting place instead.
Deciding this little kitty shouldn’t be the reason he doesn’t complete his routine, Asmo continues to fill the tub, but changes some of his products out, unsure of what could hurt mortal cats.
Butter exits the bathroom over three hours later, brushed and pampered, quite a handsome boy.
Beelzebub
Beelzebub was rather indifferent about Butter and Tofu. although it did have to be explained a few times that they are not made of Butter and Tofu and ‘please don’t eat my cats.’
Fortunately, it seems they share a love for food.
It’s late, like extremely late, but Beel’s stomach said it's food time, so now he finds himself in the kitchen, shirtless as he sits on a stool, eating his findings.
Halfway through, two sets of teeny tiny claws prick his calf.
Quickly looking down, at his feet sit the infamous kitties of The House of Lamentation.
Butter stands on his hind legs, reaching up Beel's leg and meows, begging as if two bowls of wet food and two bowls of dry food don’t sit right behind them.
Tofu chirps, rubbing her body against his legs, looking up at him with big, begging eyes. Butter is far more dramatic, practically wailing and begging like he isn’t the most spoiled tabby in all of Devildom.
But they are so cute… but they shouldn’t eat demon food…
Beel stands up, trying not to trip over the cats who swarm him like sharks as he looks for their treats.
There is definitely more of a variety than he thought, from salmon to chicken to soft to hard to teeth health to hair health, Barbatos really stocked up…
He picks out a few, remembering the warning of not over feeding the cats as he pours some out into his hand, trying one of each himself (Not bad, he’s eaten worse, he gets why cat’s like them), before crouching down and placing two piles on the ground.
As the two cats attack the piles of treats (that they will eat too fast and throw up in your room later), Beel returns to his munching.
But!! Barely three minutes later they are begging again! Butter is practically climbing Beelzebub like a ladder to steal his food!
Are all cats like this?
Belphegor
Belphie told everyone he didn’t care about the cats. Whether they liked him or not, he doesn’t give a fuck.
But he really wanted them to like him. Like so bad. It's pathetic honestly.
He’s always seen videos of those cuddly cats who sleep in humans arms, and dogs who sleep at the end of the bed, and he really wants that.
He wants Tofu to snuggle up in his arms, she looks so soft and fluffy. And he wants Butter to lay on his chest, slowly kneading.
One night, Belphegor is resting in the planetarium, laying on a nest he made on the ground as he lazily gazes at the night with half lidded eyes.
Falling in and out of sleep as the stares pass his vision, unbothered and uncaring. Until a cat comes, obviously.
Stepping her little feet carefully on the pillows and blankets surrounding the demon, Tofu tentatively walks over, rubbing her face against Belphie’s.
Gently, he scratches behind her ear, feeling her purr and chirp before laying down, head nuzzled into his neck, tail curled to flick over his collar bone.
A few minutes later, with the never ending need to annoy his older sister, Butter finds the pair, cozy and warm.
Stepping his front paws onto Belphigor’s chest, he hoists himself up, gently patting Belphie’s cheek to get his attention. Content when an eye opens to peak at the orange cat.
Happy and pleased with the minimum disturbance he caused, butter lays down, Belphie’s free hand moving to rest on Butters back, gently stroking as they fall asleep.
valko has a habit of nuzzling you whenever he can ♡
he just cannot help himself, the moment you’re within reach, he’s leaning in.
he’ll rest his forehead on your shoulder for a second before rubbing his nose against you with the tiniest sigh, like he’s exactly where he wants to be.
“valko..?”
he only hums in response, nose now buried against the side of your neck, taking a deep breath in.
“…are you listening?” you try again.
he nuzzles you again, with a little more energy, smiling when you laugh and try to push his face away.
“ughh.. stop it!” you playfully whine.
but you lying in bed is always his favorite.
he’ll curl his arms around you, hiding his face against your hair or the crook of your neck, breathing you in like it’s the most comforting thing in the world.
his wolf ears relax the instant he settles against you, giving a content flick as you absentmindedly scratch behind one.
“…mm.” it’s barely a sound— more of a pleased rumble from him.
you smile, continuing to rub slow circles behind his ear.
behind him, his tail gives a slow, lazy swish across the bed.
“aww! your tail is wagging, you’re like a real puppy!” you say in complete awe.
the fluffy thing gives another thump against the mattress.
“…traitor,” he almost growls, but he isn’t talking to you— he’s talking to his tail.
his ears pin back with embarrassment while the traitorous thing keeps swaying behind him anyway, picking up speed the more you laugh.
“i can’t control it..” he huffs. “stop looking at it.”
he lets out the smallest groan before hiding his face even deeper against your neck.
a little silence passes, and after a bit he mumbles something into your skin.
“what was that?” you ask.
“…makes me feel better.” his ears lower slightly with embarrassment once again. “when you smell like me.”
you reach up to smooth a hand over one fluffy ear, smiling when it flicks happily beneath your fingers.
“then i guess i don’t mind.”
his tail, which had finally calmed down, immediately starts wagging again— faster this time, sweeping happily back and forth against the blankets.
late nights used to be valko's best friend. it's his most productive time, after all. it's always been that way, that his best ideas and innovation came in the early hours of the morning.
but now? when he has you, no doubt curled up all cosy in bed, embellishing his sheets with that deliciously intoxicating scent of yours? it has him questioning what on earth he's doing in his home office at such a time.
he lets out a low huff, dangerously close to a characteristically wolfish growl as he half puts his things away with far more aggression than necessary. then, he's locking the door to the room behind him, fur hair bristling as he heads to the bathroom to wash up for bed.
only a little roughness lingers by the time he's gently opening the bedroom door - with his enhanced vision, he can comfortably make out where your sleeping form is under the duvet. he pads over, slipping under the covers, ready to pull you close, awaiting the moment where you wrap your arms around him in your sleep.
(it's his favourite thing, how you do it without thinking, your subconscious tugging you towards him just like how his pulls him to you.)
only, your arms are... occupied, it would seem.
a plushie. your round yellow birb plushie, nestled into your arms like it belongs there.
valko frowns, humming so low in the back of his throat that it sounds like a threat.
he reaches towards you, fingers sliding between your arm and the soft fabric, ready to prise it away.
only for you - traitor - to hum happily in your sleep and nuzzle the damned plushie closer into your chest.
he flexes and extends his fingers like he's readying his claws.
no. you'll be upset if he destroys it, and he certainly doesn't want that.
fine.
he scoops your body into his embrace, plushie and all (begrudgingly), and shoves his face into your neck, sniffing and kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. you squirm in your sleep, until you eventually wake up to the feeling of being thoroughly loved upon (and scented) by your wolfie.
"mmm... val, what're y'doin'?..." you murmur, shifting the plushie so it isn't obstructing you from hugging valko close instead, a clear upgrade. he visibly perks up; even in the darkness, it's like you can feel something in him shift to happiness from the sheer exhaustion of the preceding moments.
"my little wolf was neglecting me." his words come out teasing, muffled into your skin as he presses his nose into your neck. "not very nice of you, babe. i've been working so hard all evening, only to be replaced by a plushie."
"mm, maybe you should've come to bed sooner, then." you try to sound feisty, but it just exposes the truth - how badly you want him by your side, and how you hate sleeping with his side of the bed empty. then, you're shifting so you're sprawled top of him, and you plant a kiss on his cheek before tucking your head under his chin.
"looks like i need to do a little better next time 'round, then." he muses, his usual cockiness subdued a little by an affection that warms you to the bone. one hand comes to splay over your lower back in a loosely protective hold, while the other drapes over your waist, fingers kneading your soft skin.
"mhm." you agree. "shouldn't be workin' so late, val, should be here with me." your soft murmur is half a confession, but truthfully, it's nothing he didn't know; nothing he wasn't already acutely aware of, in the very fibres in his being, in the soul-tether that binds you to him.
"i know. i'm sorry." he says, voice low and achingly sincere. "tomorrow, baby. tomorrow, i'll be here. by your side. i promise."
a/n: first valko post!! deepest apologies for my long absence - exam season had me going insane but im free now with lots in the drafts! also spot the teeny tiny raf/valko rivalry ref hehe anyways hope you enjoyed mwah ily
pairing: bf!Valko x gn!reader
synopsis: you wake up from a nightmare where valko disappeared, leaving you alone. thankfully, he's lying by your side when you wake up...
cw: fluff, hurt/comfort ig, petnames, established relationship
wc: 1.5k
a/n: yes this is my way of coping
Valko masterlist (wip!)
Valko was gone.
He had disappeared, seemingly without a trace.
You woke up to an unusually empty and cold bed. So you got up, searching the bathroom instead, calling out to him by the nickname you knew he secretly loved despite acting against it. But he was nowhere to be seen.
You tried calling him or sending him a text, but you couldn’t find his contact in your phone anymore.
So you tried social media, but you couldn't even find his account. Even after looking his username up.
The pit in your stomach only grew deeper and heavier as you rushed out of your bathroom, making your way to your entrance, throwing on the first pair of shoes you could find, grabbing your keys, and leaving. You noted the fact that his boots weren’t at your entrance anymore.
Arriving at his place, you walked up the luxurious modern driveway and pulled out the spare set of keys to his place he’d made for you. But the door didn’t open, or budge. The key didn’t even fit into the lock.
But in your panicked state of denial, you continue forcing the key into the hole, until the door opens from the other side.
You look up, expecting to be met with your 6’2 hunk of a boyfriend. Maybe in loungewear, with his glasses resting low on his nose, a book in hand.
Instead, an older woman looked at you with fear, disgust, and confusion all at once.
“Can I help you?” she asks condescendingly.
You stutter, still shocked.
“If you’re just going to stand there, then get off my property. I won’t hesitate to call the police.” she huffs.
Her property? What the hell was she talking about?
“Go on then.” she shoos you away, closing the heavy wooden door right in your face.
You remain standing there, baffled, before slowly turning around and looking at the cars in the driveway. Three sleek Mercedes’. And Valko’s jeep was nowhere in sight.
Your hands start trembling as you slowly make your way back to your own car. Shutting the door behind you once you sit in the driver’s seat, you pull out your phone again.
You decide to call his aunt. Surely she’d know where he was.
You sigh in relief once she picks up, and immediately ask her about Valko’s whereabouts, without even bothering to greet her properly.
She’s quiet on the other side of the line before speaking. “... Who?”
Your mouth falls agape ever so slightly, and your eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Valko. Do you know where he is? I’ve been trying to reach him all morning.”
She’s quiet again, but this time breaks her silence with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, did you hit your head? Who’s Valko?”
The hand holding your phone up to your ear falls in your lap, as tears start to well in your bottom eyelids.
Although you’re not on speaker, you can still faintly hear the sound of her voice.
“Y/N? Are you still there?” she questions, before laughing again. “I swear if this is another one of your pranks―”
You hang up before she can finish her sentence.
You stare down at your phone, and click on your camera roll.
There are no photos of him. There are no videos of him. Your album of him is gone.
Valko is gone.
Lost on what to do, you break down. The tears instantly stream down your face, hot and heavy. Your heartbroken sobs echo through your car. You fold in on yourself, leaning forward until your forehead rests against the steering wheel. The cries that rip out of your throat only get louder as you close your eyes, blinking the tears away.
The next thing you know, you’re in bed again. The sheets cling to your body due to the sweat rolling down your back. It’s humid, and sticky, and you feel as though you’re suffocating.
You immediately sit up and tear the covers off of you to catch your breath.
That’s when you realize… Valko. Where is he?
Your gaze drops down to your right.
There he is. Lying down with an arm propped behind his head, the other resting on his chest.
You nearly pounce on him, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders and shaking him awake.
“Valko! Come on, wake up, please―” you mutter, your voice raspy and broken as you start tearing up again.
But he doesn’t budge. You pray it’s just him being his usual heavy sleeper self, and continue trying to wake him up.
Eventually, he starts to stir, eyelashes fluttering open.
You stop your motion and stare down at him with wide eyes, and tear streaks adorning your cheeks.
Once his vision focuses and he takes in your appearance, he immediately sits up.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asks, large hands already moving to cup your face.
But the second you feel his warm touch again, the dam breaks and you sob even more. Your hands move to rest against his own, as you lean into his palms. “I―” you start but choke on your words.
His golden eyes dart back and forth between yours. “Hey, it’s okay, take your time. Use your words.”
You sniffle repeatedly, catching your breath. He continues wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, remaining silent.
Once you feel more calm, you speak up. “You were gone… you left–you left me.”
Now it’s his turn to frown, but he still says nothing.
“You left. Like you never even existed.” your breath hitches. “I tried calling you but I couldn’t find your contact on my phone—and there was an old rude lady living at your house, and I called auntie to ask about you and she was acting like she didn’t even know you.” you ramble, your words occasionally getting cut off with your sobs and voice cracks.
He lets out the breath he was holding before pulling you in. You immediately bury your face into his chest.
“I’m here, baby.” He whispered against your ear. “You hear my heartbeat? Smell me?” he presses kisses to your head. “I’m right here. Not goin’ anywhere.”
Pressing your ear to the spot right over his heart, you listen to it beat against his ribcage, focusing on the familiar and comforting rhythm. Your crying eventually ceases, and you’re left hiccuping and letting out deep breaths.
His hands continue caressing up and down your back until he feels you’ve really calmed down.
You’re the first to pull away, and you wipe your tears while staring down at your lap.
He notices how distant you look and cups your jaw with one hand to make you look up at him.
“Feelin’ better?” he asks, eyes unusually soft.
You slowly look up to meet his eyes and shrug.
“It was just a bad dream, ‘kay? I’m not leaving you.” He leans down, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Ever.”
Your eyes flutter shut as you lean up so your foreheads touch, and you breathe him in. You immediately bask in his warm, inviting scent that you swore could wake you up from a coma. “... Promise?”
“I promise.” he whispers against your skin, letting his words sink in.
You look up at him through your wet lashes. He stares down at you in silence, his eyes half-lidded, before slowly and carefully leaning down. You try to meet him halfway and lean into him as well, closing your eyes.
But instead of pressing his lips against your own, he swipes his tongue against the corner of your left eye, licking your tears away.
Your eyes snap back open and you stare at him in shock. “Valko.” you reprimand, yet your voice is soft and still exhausted.
He pulls back, and looks as though he’s deep in thought. “Salty.” he finally comments, the corners of his lips tilting into a smirk.
You continue to stare at him with parted lips. “... You’re gross.” you scoff.
But he’s quick to lean in and lick the tears from your other eye. You yelp, moving away and trying to push him off, giggling in the process.
His hands move to grab your waist, pushing you back against the mattress as he climbs on top of you.
You shield your face from him, arms coming up to hide it.
His fingers slip under your shirt to tickle your skin, making your defenses drop. He takes the opportunity to lean in again and lick an annoyingly long stripe up the side of your face, tracing the tear tracks on it.
Your laughter echoes through the bedroom as your legs start kicking up in all directions. “Valko, enough!”
He continues for a good two minutes before finally stopping. You’re caged between his biceps, staring up at him, while you try to catch your breath. He’s slightly winded too, and some of his hair has fallen on his forehead.
“... I love you.” he mutters.
Your heart squeezes painfully, and you cup his face with both hands, caressing his jawline. “I love you too.” you respond.
He leans down, lips finally pressing against your own.
Reminding you that he was real, present, and that nothing would ever change that.
Your fingers swirl softly in the burgundy tuffs of his hair, inching towards the nape of his neck where fluff turns into scruff. “Maybe, but I’d love it if she had your hair color.”
Valko’s head rests on your shoulder, slightly atop your chest. Laying in bed together, listening to the soft putter of rain hit the window, staring down at the swell of your stomach. Your precious little pup growing inside.
“I really hope she has your eyes, Val.” Those beautiful amber orbs that you fell in love with, you can only pray that your doting little girl is blessed with the same ones. “You just want her to be a mini version of me? Where’s the fun in that? Maybe I want a mini version of you.”
A large hand splays over your stomach, feeling your little girl’s fluttering kicks as greeting. She loves the sound of her papa’s voice, loves the feeling of her papa’s touch. Just as much as her mama does. “We’ll have more babies. Let me have this though, yeah? I want my first experience with motherhood to be with a mini of the love of my life.”
The first great grandchild no less, and a little girl? Valko’s family had already spoiled her rotten and she hadn’t even left your womb. Now, you were just as bad… though he may be worse. “Still, not fair. I want her to look like the woman I can’t live without.” His thumb caresses your tummy softly, a smile curling his lips when she kicks.
“She’s already feisty like you, look at her go.” You laugh, watching your tummy jump and your little girl jostle. “She’s got her papa’s stubbornness, his determination. She’s really shaping up to be a mini you, Val.”
“Our little pup.” He affirms rather than acknowledging your comment, only proving his stubbornness. Though, the smile on your lips can’t be stopped. Gingerly, you scratch at his ears, sighing as you mutter back. “Our little pup.”
I miss him like he’s my dead wife… trust me y’all regardless of the outcome I will not stop writing for Valko. Lads will always be 6 to me.
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