When the Wolves Stop Howling
Love and Deepspace – Valko x Reader
This is before he was supposed to be released and after he got cancelled so here to go my Valko lovers
I tried my Best
_____
Rain had become a constant companion.
It fell in quiet sheets across Linkon City, turning every neon light into blurred streaks of blue and gold that reflected across the soaked pavement. Sirens echoed in the distance, Hunters rushed from mission to mission, and somewhere beyond the skyline another Wanderer was already threatening innocent lives.
The city kept moving-
The first thing you noticed was the rain.
It had started sometime during the mission, quietly at first, little droplets tapping against your visor until the entire skyline of Linkon City blurred into a haze of silver and neon. The streets below reflected countless advertisements, emergency lights, and towering skyscrapers, making it look as though the city itself had melted into the puddles beneath your boots.
You adjusted the strap of your weapon over your shoulder, breathing steadily despite the exhaustion settling into your muscles. The mission had gone longer than anyone expected.
"Status Report?"
Your ear piece rang out with a female voice, you looked up at the sky and sighed before reporting back to your co-worker. As you finished you said goodbyes and made your way back.
You hated goodbyes.
Not because you believed they were permanent, but because Valko never knew how to make them easy.
Every time he left for a mission, he would simply sling the enormous blade across his back, adjust the straps of his combat gear, glance over his shoulder for just a second, and say the exact same thing.
"Lock the door behind me."
Never I'll be careful.
Never I'll miss you.
Never I love you.
Just those four words.
And somehow...
They had become your favorite goodbye.
---
The apartment still smelled like the coffee the two of you had made together that morning.
His favorite mug sat abandoned beside the sink, still stained around the rim because he'd insisted he'd wash it later. His jacket was draped over the back of the dining chair exactly where he'd thrown it the night before after collapsing onto the couch, complaining that another twelve-hour patrol was "unnecessarily exhausting."
You'd laughed.
"You say that after every patrol."
"They're all unnecessarily exhausting."
"You chose this career."
"I regret it daily."
"You don't mean that."
"...No."
He never did.
Because no matter how tired he became...
No matter how bruised, bloodied, or worn down...
He would still answer every distress call from his pack.
Every emergency.
Every cry for help.
Because that was who Valko was.
He carried the weight of his pack's lives like they mattered more than his own.
Sometimes...
You wondered if he even realized how much his life mattered to you.
---
That morning had been ordinary.
Wonderfully...
Painfully...
Ordinary.
You had stolen half the toast from his plate because yours had burned.
He'd stared at you with the most unimpressed expression imaginable before silently sliding the rest of his breakfast onto your plate.
"You weren't eating it."
"I was."
"You were glaring at it."
"I was thinking."
"You were losing an argument to toast."
"...You talk too much."
You grinned.
"And yet you keep me around."
His golden eyes met yours over the rim of his coffee mug.
"...I do."
It was quiet.
Simple.
Barely above a whisper.
But it made your heart flutter anyway.
---
Before leaving, he'd stopped beside the front door.
You had been scrolling through your communicator, pretending not to watch him.
"You forgot something," you said.
He frowned.
"I did?"
"Mhm."
"What?"
You looked at him expectantly.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
"...My communicator?"
"No."
"My gloves?"
"No."
"My weapon?"
You laughed.
"No."
He sighed dramatically.
"...Then what?"
You walked over until you were standing directly in front of him.
"So hopeless."
"What am I forgetting?"
You reached up on your toes...
Pressed the gentlest kiss against his cheek...
Then smiled when the tips of his ears immediately turned pink.
"That."
For a long second...
He simply looked at you.
Speechless.
Completely frozen.
Then he quietly cleared his throat.
"...Right."
"Right?"
"..."
"..."
"...Can I have another one?"
You laughed so hard your sides hurt.
"There he is."
"What?"
"The man everyone swears doesn't exist."
"What man?"
"The secretly affectionate Valko."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You absolutely do."
"...Maybe."
So you kissed him again.
This time slower.
Longer.
When you finally stepped back...
He rested his forehead against yours and nuzzled against you, wrapping a arm around your waist protectively like you were going to be taken away from him.
"I'll be home before dinner."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"...Don't make promises you can't keep."
His expression softened.
"I always come back."
---
He didn't.
---
The call came at 6:42 that evening.
You almost ignored it.
You had been busy setting the table for two.
Dinner had gone cold nearly an hour earlier, but that wasn't unusual.
Hunters were late all the time.
You smiled when your communicator buzzed.
"Finally."
You answered without looking.
"You're buying dessert since you made me wait."
Silence.
"...Hello?"
"..."
"...This is Hunter Association Command."
Something inside your chest tightened immediately.
"...Yes?"
"There has been... an incident."
You stopped breathing.
---
They told you the mission details.
A high-risk Rift.
Civilian evacuations.
Unexpected spatial distortion.
Communications lost.
An explosion.
The entire sector collapsing into unstable Deepspace energy.
Search teams.
No body.
No signal.
No trace.
Only...
His broken weapon.
You stared blankly at the wall while they spoke.
You heard every word.
Yet somehow...
None of them made sense.
Missing.
How could someone like Valko simply become... missing?
He always came home.
He promised.
---
You waited anyway.
You left the porch light on.
You reheated dinner three times before finally throwing it away at midnight.
You folded his blanket before unfolding it again because maybe he'd be cold when he came home.
You charged his communicator every evening.
You answered every unknown number.
You slept on the couch facing the front door because maybe...
Just maybe...
He'd quietly let himself in while you were asleep.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
The search was called off.
People stopped talking about him.
The Association held a memorial service.
Everyone called him a hero.
Everyone spoke about accepting loss.
Accepting.
You hated that word.
Because accepting meant believing he wasn't coming back.
And your heart refused.
---
The months that followed didn't feel like living- they felt like surviving one unbearable day over and over again, trapped in a life that no longer seemed to belong to you.
Morning after morning, your eyes opened before the sun, not because you were well-rested, but because your body still expected to hear Valko moving quietly through the apartment, expected to hear the familiar sound of the kettle whistling, the soft clink of his mug against the counter, or his low voice reminding you that you'd sleep through your alarm if he didn't wake you.
Every single time you reached across the bed, your hand found only cold sheets, and every single morning there was a tiny, cruel heartbeat where your mind forgot the truth and believed he was simply showering, or out on an early patrol, or grabbing breakfast downstairs.
Then reality settled in like a weight around your ribs, squeezing until breathing itself felt like work. You stopped cooking real meals because making enough for two only reminded you that one plate would remain untouched, so dinner became instant noodles, dry toast, or nothing at all.
His favorite coffee beans stayed sealed in the cabinet because you couldn't bear to finish them without him, even after they went stale. His boots remained beside the front door, untouched, exactly where he'd left them that morning, gathering a thin layer of dust that you refused to wipe away. His jacket still hung over the dining chair because moving it felt like admitting he wasn't coming back for it. His side of the closet stayed full, his books remained on the shelf with little scraps of paper marking pages he'd wanted to show you someday, and every now and then you'd catch yourself talking aloud- to tell him dinner was ready, to complain about work, to laugh at something ridiculous you'd seen on your communicator- only to be met with a silence so complete it hurt your ears.
You couldn't bring yourself to delete his messages, so instead you reread them until you had every word memorized, listening to his old voice recordings late into the night just to remember the sound of his laugh, the quiet hum he made when he was concentrating, the way he'd say your name with that gentle roughness that always made you feel safe. Sometimes you would call his number anyway, knowing no one would answer, letting the endless ringing play until voicemail picked up, whispering, "I had a bad day," or "I miss you," before hanging up in tears.
People tried to help. Friends invited you out, coworkers insisted you weren't alone, the Association offered counseling, but none of them understood that loneliness wasn't simply being by yourself- it was waking every day with half your heart missing and still expecting it to beat normally. Some nights you sat by the window for hours watching the rain, remembering how Valko would silently drape a blanket around your shoulders because he knew you'd lose track of time.
Other nights you found yourself curled on the floor with his jacket clutched tightly against your chest, breathing in the fading scent of him until even that began to disappear, and that terrified you more than anything else. You became afraid of forgetting. Afraid his voice would become fuzzy around the edges. Afraid you wouldn't remember exactly how warm his hands were, or how his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, or how he'd always pretend not to smile before failing miserably. So you repeated those memories to yourself every single day like prayers, desperate to keep them alive.
The calendar continued to change, birthdays passed, holidays came and went, seasons shifted from summer warmth to autumn winds and then to winter snow, but time meant nothing anymore. Your world had stopped the day Valko vanished, and while everyone else kept moving forward, you remained frozen in the doorway of that ordinary morning, still hearing him promise, "I'll be home before dinner." Every evening, no matter how impossible it seemed, you still switched on the porch light before the sun went down. Every night, before finally forcing yourself into bed, you glanced toward the front door one last time, wondering if tonight would be the night the lock turned, if you'd hear those familiar footsteps, if he'd walk in apologizing for being late as though months had only been hours.
Deep down, you knew hope could be painful. It could keep wounds open far longer than grief ever could. But hope was all you had left of him... and until someone could place his hand in yours and tell you otherwise, you refused to believe that the man who had promised to come home had broken that promise willingly. Somewhere, beyond the stars and beyond your reach, you held onto the impossible belief that Valko was still fighting to find his way back to you- and every beat of your aching heart silently begged him to keep going, because no matter how long it took, you would still be waiting where he'd left you.
---
It had been months.
Three hundred and thirty-four days.
Eight thousand and sixteen hours.
You hadn't meant to keep counting.
At first, it had simply been easier to tell yourself, He's only been gone for three days.
Then it became a week.
Then a month.
Then... so many months that people stopped mentioning his name around you, as if saying it aloud would reopen wounds that had never truly closed.
The Hunter Association had officially declared Valko MIA.
Some whispered the word dead when they thought you weren't listening.
Others looked at you with pity- the kind that made your stomach twist.
You hated that look.
Because pity meant they had already given up on him.
You hadn't.
You couldn't.
Not when every fiber of your being still insisted that somewhere, somehow...
He was trying to come home.
---
The apartment hadn't changed.
You wouldn't let it.
His boots still sat by the front door.
His favorite mug still occupied the left side of the cabinet.
His side of the bed remained untouched except for the nights you woke from another nightmare and instinctively reached for him before remembering.
Even his jacket still hung on the coat rack.
The scent of him had almost disappeared.
Almost.
Some nights you wrapped yourself in it anyway.
Pretending.
Just for a little while.
Pretending he was still there.
---
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Again.
It seemed fitting.
The city had cried almost as long as you had.
You sat curled on the couch beneath a blanket, absently scrolling through old messages on your communicator.
There weren't many.
Valko had never been a texter.
Most conversations consisted of things like:
"Eat."
"Home late."
"Lock the door."
"Don't wait up."
Short.
Simple.
So painfully...
Him.
Your thumb hovered over the very last message he'd ever sent.
> Running behind.
>
> Don't skip dinner waiting for me.
You laughed.
Or maybe you cried.
At this point...
The sounds had become difficult to tell apart.
---
A knock echoed through the apartment.
Three slow knocks.
You frowned.
No one visited this late.
Especially not after midnight.
Another knock.
"...Coming."
Your voice sounded small.
Weak.
Unused.
You shuffled toward the door, barely glancing through the peephole.
You expected a neighbor.
Maybe Association staff.
Instead...
You saw someone standing beneath the dim hallway light.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Head lowered.
Soaked from head to toe.
Your heart stopped.
No.
It couldn't-
Your hands shook so violently you nearly dropped the lock.
The door swung open.
Silence.
For a moment...
Neither of you moved.
The man standing before you looked nothing like the Valko you remembered.
His uniform was torn beyond recognition.
One sleeve had been ripped away completely, exposing countless scars- some old, many fresh.
Bandages wrapped around his ribs beneath shredded armor.
His face was thinner.
Hollow.
Dark circles rested beneath exhausted golden eyes that had once held so much quiet confidence.
There were cuts across his cheek.
Bruises along his jaw.
One eye was swollen nearly shut.
His hair had grown longer, hanging damp against his forehead.
He looked...
Older.
Like he'd lived ten years in less than one.
Like every day he'd been gone had carved another piece out of him.
Yet despite everything...
Those eyes...
Those beautiful golden eyes...
Were still his.
They found yours.
And softened immediately.
"...Hey."
His voice was hoarse.
Barely recognizable.
"I..."
He swallowed painfully.
"...I'm home."
The world disappeared.
You didn't remember moving.
One second he was standing in the doorway.
The next-
You slammed into him with every ounce of strength you had left.
Your arms wrapped desperately around his waist as a broken sob ripped from somewhere deep inside your chest.
He staggered backward from the force, nearly losing his balance before instinctively wrapping both arms around you.
And the moment they did...
You broke.
"No..."
The word came out strangled.
Shaking.
"No... no, no, no..."
Your fists struck weakly against his chest.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each hit carried months of fear.
Months of loneliness.
Months of crying yourself to sleep.
"You idiot!"
Another weak punch.
"You absolute... idiot..."
Your voice cracked so hard the words almost disappeared.
"Do you... do you have any idea...?"
Another trembling hit against his chest.
"I hated you..."
Your forehead fell against him.
"I hated you..."
Punch.
"I hated you..."
Punch.
"...for leaving me..."
Punch.
"...I hated waking up without you..."
Punch.
"...I hated eating alone..."
Punch.
"...I hated everyone telling me to move on..."
Your fists finally lost what little strength they had.
They simply rested against his chest now.
Clutching desperately at the torn fabric of his uniform.
"I hated that your side of the bed stayed cold..."
You were sobbing so hard you could barely breathe.
"I hated that I couldn't remember your laugh some days..."
"I hated... I hated..."
Your voice dissolved into incoherent crying.
All those months.
Every sleepless night.
Every unanswered prayer.
Every birthday.
Every holiday.
Every empty dinner table.
Every lonely morning.
It all came crashing down at once.
Through blurry tears, you grabbed fistfuls of his ruined shirt as though letting go would cause him to disappear again.
"You promised..."
Your shoulders shook violently.
"You promised you'd come home..."
"I waited..."
A gasp.
"I waited every day..."
"I left the light on..."
"I charged your communicator..."
"I kept your jacket where you left it..."
"I couldn't..."
Another sob escaped you.
"I couldn't throw anything away because... because what if you came back and looked for it?"
Your knees finally gave out beneath you.
Before you could fall...
Strong arms caught you.
Valko held you effortlessly despite the obvious pain it caused him.
He buried his face against your hair.
You felt him trembling.
Not from exhaustion.
From emotion.
"I'm sorry."
His voice broke.
"I'm so... so sorry."
You had never heard Valko cry before.
Not once.
Not after broken bones.
Not after impossible missions.
Not after watching friends die.
Never.
Until now.
Tears slipped silently down his face into your hair.
"I tried..."
His breathing hitched.
"I tried to come home."
His arms tightened around you.
"They trapped me."
"I couldn't reach anyone."
"I thought..."
He closed his eyes.
"I thought I'd never see you again."
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
Your shaking hands cupped his bruised face so gently it was almost painful.
"You idiot..."
Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.
"You should've come home sooner."
A tiny laugh escaped him.
Wet.
Broken.
"...I know."
Your thumbs carefully brushed away tears you never imagined seeing on his face.
"You scared me."
"I know."
"I thought you were dead."
"I know."
"I was so angry."
"I know."
"I still love you."
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
For just a second...
Valko froze.
Then his forehead rested against yours exactly the way it had that morning nearly a year ago.
"I love you too."
The confession was quiet.
Simple.
No dramatic speech.
No perfect timing.
Just the truth he'd carried home through nearly a year of impossible suffering.
"I should've said it before I left."
Your lip trembled.
"You don't ever get to disappear like that again."
His tired smile- small, uneven, but real- finally returned.
"I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it."
You nodded, tears still streaming down your face as you leaned into him once more, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
It was slower than you remembered.
Weaker.
But it was there.
He was there.
Scarred.
Broken.
Exhausted.
Home.
And as you held each other in the doorway, neither of you caring about the rain blowing in through the open door or the bags lying forgotten on the floor, you realized something that months of grief had nearly made you forget.
Home had never been this apartment.
It had never been the city.
It had never been a place.
Home...
...had always been wherever the two of you could finally hold each other again.
___
I haven't written a fanfic in awhile so I do hope you all enjoy this and yes
#BRINGVALKOBACK
