You can call me Lovely because thats my main account, but most people on this blog refer to me as Wallflower or my nickname, Ash~
I sometimes use this blog for COD, however, lately I've been fighting the good fight to get our homie Valko back. So a lot of my content will be Love and Deepspace 🤭
I am a multi-main peep but number one became Caleb the moment he was introduced in the story. (I jumped for joy the day he was announced as an official LI).
2nd at the moment is probably Ayel, but I love all the characters and will write for them if asked :)
Lowkey (high key) sick due to the air quality being so bad so take a plot bunny/headcanon I have had for a while but haven't written yet. If there is enough interest I might start writing it after getting Ayel, Xavier, and Sylus's versions of "they hear you call yourself stupid" done ^^
**
Imagine:
A reverse Isekai where you get hurt and nearly die, only to wake up with your wounds professionally handled. You don't have time to be confused because of the sound of someone in your apartment, leaving your bedroom against all horror movie logic.
It is just you and your baseball bat against the world.
And, well, apparently your favorite LI.
They ask how you are like they weren’t breaking your brain, removing or rendering the bat useless via their evol.
(That shouldn't exist in your timeline. Right. Right???)
Well, it does. As does their status from the game to a certain extent. A gift to them from the universe after dropping them here, you guess. Even in your world, they're perfect.
Smart, rich, and successful.
Making it all the more confusing why they were in your rather modest apartment!
Long story short, they're as confused on how they got to your world as you are but are relieved to see a familiar face. They don't seem at all perturbed that the version of themself you both remember doesn't technically exist, even teasing that you loved them so much you manifested a new life for them and that's true love.
The teasing escalates after they find your merch collection from the game. They are amused by it, finding it flattering...
Until they see you have merch of the other male leads, too.
**
-When you aren't looking, Ayel places all his stuff on top of or in front of the other LI. He pouts when you ask if he touched your stuff, asking if his loyal follower had wandering eyes. You can't help but laugh at him, poking his shoulder and admitting that while you did like the other LI as well, he was the one beside you. That seems to cheer him up some as he sighs in exasperation and claims he might be able to forgive you.
It is only later when he finds your bullet journal and sees all the stuff about him you made with your own hands that he fully gets over the feeling of nervousness. Something you put effort into meant more to him than material items. You were certainly devout, and he can't help but skim through your hours of notes, thoughts, and feelings about his past, present, and future. Weird, yes, as he was quite literally an open book without revealing anything.
What he felt was relief, despite the strange situation. Because even in this world, you truly were all he could count on.
**
-Caleb uses his evol to hide the others on a tall shelf in your room leaving only his items in the box by your bed/ on your shelves/desk, etc. You are confused but before you can ask about it, he is expertly diverting your attention by asking about your world, what you know about him, and why he is your favorite. And if a sunny apple plushie happens to end up in his hands or the blanket with his chibi myths ends up around your shoulders, who would question it?
And when he offers to cook for you the next day, knowing all your favorites despite the game never allowing for that much personalization, he brushes you off and insists you mentioned it to him before dozing off the night before.
He totally didn't study your socials and dig through your files all night after using your thumbprint to unlock your phone.
**
-Zayne calculates how much of his stuff you have vs. The others and grows slightly annoyed that one of the other LI has ONE card more than him. He insists on giving you two gifts by using his evol, and you are mesmorized watching it happen in real time. You excitedly place the snow people that look very much like you and him on your bedside table, chewing your lower lip to keep your emotions at bay.
You notice through his microexpressions that he is bothered and believe it is your reaction at first due to his complicated relationship with his evol, but he insists he is fine. You don't press. Instead you take his hand, cradling it with both as it rests against your thigh. You thank him, so sincere that his mood shifts instantly.
He stares at you, scanning your face quickly before looking away. He insists he can make you more for as long as he lives. You joke that it sounds like a marriage proposal and he tilts his head, hazel eyes returning to your own.
"That's because it is."
**
-Xavier doesn't mind that you have other LI cards cause he was the one with you, but the moment he sees that you have Lumiere or KOD merch? Got mans looking like this.
He glares at the items everytime you look away from him, opting to ask to go out for necessities to get out of your room for a bit. He is all sunshines and rainbows until you grab your ita bag from the closet, covered in pins of every version of him. He glares at that too, only stopping when you reach out to tug on his sleeve shyly at the store, asking if he would like go eat out afterwards.
The moment you bring him to a hot pot place you like, his grudge is forgotten and his heart is somehow fuller than his stomach.
**
Sylus has already ordered you more of his likeness before you return from getting refreshments. How can he be your favorite if a fish, leopard, wolf, snowman, or bunny have him beat? You are blissfully unaware of that, and he hides his slight annoyance well. It fades entirely when you admit that the other LI were easier to come by in your area and many of their items were actually freebies from getting his merch. You mention camping out at once store for a figure of his and he finds himself enamored at your dedication. Flustered at his silence, you admit it sounds a bit obsessive, but all he does is smirk and lean in close to ask if he's better in the flesh.
The mountain of packages next morning goes unseen by you, but when you enter your bedroom after running out to get some items for him, you nearly drop your bag at the sight of the numerous pins, posters, and figures expertly organized on shelves and your desk.
When you ask, he shrugs, but you can't help but note how he fishes for some type of reaction the longer you remain in shock. Your mind tries to calculate how much he must have spent, stuck on how even in your world he seemed to be rich.
**
Valko can't help but feel rather out of place. Your explanation of how you loved the game but hadn't played because of what happened to him had him slightly bummed. Not because of the cancelation itself...he had no recollection and so didn't care much for it at all.
No, it was because of how obviously devastated you still were over the entire situation. He could see through the attempts at downplaying your feelings and the half smiles. You no doubt felt embarrassed about feeling so strongly, but that only made him admire you more.
While the other LIs has more items that represented them, he couldn't help but notice that there were traces of him around, too.
A partially sewn wolf plushie tucked in a drawer and your bandaged finger tips.
A file on your computer with drafts of stories written about him based off of the few promos that had been released with details that showed you had watched more than once.
The color of your non-bandages fingernails, one hand matching the color of his eyes almost to a t and the other hand repping his official game color.
So when you thank him for taking care of you after your injury and essentially saving your life, he can't help but pull you into a hug, nosing at your pulse point while his tail swung behind him.
Because you had saved his life in a way as well.
By thinking of him.
By not allowing the universe a single chance to pretend that his existence had never happened.
Zayne gives the most intense orgasms simply because he’s not afraid to get messy- he will literally dig into your hole till he finds the spot he knows houses the bundle of nerves he wants to stimulate for an orgasm that almost knocks you out. And then he’ll brutalise that spot;
The moment he has you spread open- thighs pushed wide, knees nearly to your chest- he sinks two fingers deep in one smooth thrust, searching with the calm focus of a man who has memorized every map of your body. The wet, obscene sound of him working into you is immediate and absolutely lewd. He curls, presses, drags the pads of his fingers along your walls until he finds it: that swollen, spongy spot that makes your spine snap tight and a broken moan rip from your throat.
“There,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, almost clinical. “That’s the one.”
Then he latches on to it.
No amount of begging or scratching will make him relent as he stimulates you incessantly- not the sloppy, cruel fingering popularised by cheap pornography, but in firm, methodical and purposeful movements that bring about the pleasure that drowns the pain of overstimulation, never once loosing their surgical precision even as desire mounts.
He anchors his other hand on your lower belly, pressing down to hold your squirming hips in place while he strokes that bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate drags. Each press-and-rub is firm enough that pleasure borders on pain, slow enough that you feel every ridge of his rough fingertips, the rough texture of his surgeon's callouses. The pressure builds like a storm gathering behind your eyes. Your walls flutter and clamp around him, but he doesn’t slow. He simply adjusts the angle and keeps going, relentless.
You buck. You claw at his wrist, nails digging crescents into his skin. “Zayne-fuck!!... too much, I can’t-”
“You can.” His voice is calm, almost gentle, even as his fingers piston against that spot with an almost sadistic flair. “Breathe through it. Let it take you.”
The overstimulation burns, white-hot and overwhelming, but beneath it the pleasure is molten. It drowns everything. Your thighs shake violently. Slick gushes around his knuckles, dripping down to soak the sheets, coating his palm, running down his forearm in shiny trails.
He doesn’t care.
He never flinches from the mess. If anything, the wetter and filthier you get, the darker his eyes become, mouth open as he wonders just how can you drip so much just from his fingers.
A third finger joins the first two. The stretch is sudden and perfect. He curls all three against that spot in tight, rhythmic presses- almost like he’s milking it- and your vision whites out.
The orgasm crashes into you so hard your back arches clean off the bed, a silent scream caught in your throat. Your walls spasm violently around his fingers, but Zayne doesn’t stop. He keeps stroking, firm and steady, dragging every last pulse out of you until you’re sobbing, shaking, gushing helplessly on his hand.
Only when your voice cracks into a wrecked whimper does he finally ease off- just enough to let you breathe, never fully pulling out. His fingers stay buried deep, gently petting your fluttering walls while you twitch and leak on him.
He leans down, lips brushing your ear to plant a fluttering kiss that seems more mocking than soothing, voice rough with restrained lust.
“So good for me...see? I told you you'd like it." he says before straightening up. "But that was only the first one. I’m nowhere near done finding out how many times I can make you break tonight.”
He smiles, and you shudder, your legs falling open helplessly even though you have no energy left.
TW: self deprecating language, implications of past trauma, blood warning (zayne) due to accidental injury.
Not beta'd~
--
*Valko*
“I’m so stupid!”
Valko’s ears perked at the words, unsure if he was more thrown because of the words themself or the harsh manner in which they were said.
His gaze shifted to where you were borderline pacing, lifting items to try and find something. You were definitely seconds away from tearing your own hair out from frustration. Instead, you just stopped, hands clenched into fists and eyes squeezed shut as you shut down entirely.
"Should have known better to put them down knowing I needed them," you scolded yourself voice shaking.
If not for his sense of smell, he might have missed the smell of salt in the air.
And so he stood and moved towards you, his tail nearly dragging behind him. His ears pressed to his hair, nearly camouflaged.
“Sweets?”
You held up a trembling hand.
“Not now, Val–”
The hug he wrapped you in from behind was sudden but necessary, your heated cheeks and racing heart easing up as you were forced to just breathe. Valko’s breaths were deep and tempoed and you had half a thought to call him out on his actions if not for the fact that they were working.
In and out.
In and out.
In, hold it, and out.
Until you were dragged into his rhythm, racing thoughts slowing with every exhale. His arms crossed over your chest, weighted yet gentle.
Your hand dropped to your side, mind attempting to catch up to the fact that he was holding you and you were allowed to fall back into him if needed.
“Don’t talk about my mate like that,” he murmured into your hair, tightening his grip for a second before loosening it. “She’s strong. Smart. Certainly not stupid or any other vitriolic word your mind conjures up from Astra knows where.”
The words force you back to reality harder than expected.
The energy drained as your adrenaline from fight or flight practically faded and sent you into a free fall.
“I didn’t…” you started, unsure why you had said the words yourself. “I…” you tried again, the lump in your throat effectively sealing any other attempt at explanation inside of you. The words played on loop instead, a stuttered exhale all you can manage before turning to face Valko and burying your face into his neck.
“I gotcha,” Valko assured confidently, rubbing a hand along your back while the other rested on your neck.
Firm but not possessive.
Just grounding.
Enough to send you into premature sleep, to which he moved you both to the bedroom and made sure not an inch of light or sound would disturb your much needed rest.
And when you woke up to him with his head on your chest in the early hours of the morning? You managed a smile, yesterday’s emotions nothing but a gentle ache soothed by the rush of affection the sleeping man managed to pull out of you.
--
*Caleb*
The crashing of the plate against the ground had been the last straw for you.
“I’m so stupid,” you hissed as you cradled your burnt hand, tears welling in your eyes before you could process why they were there in the first place. You leaned down to grab the pieces and hide the evidence of your idiocy, but Caleb had heard the commotion and been up and on his way toward you the moment he heard the crash. He made his presence known by lifting you up via his evol with practiced ease, his voice teasing.
“I know I didn’t just hear my girlfriend call herself stupid,” he said with a cross of his arms. “Might have to have a talk with her to stop bullying my precious pipsqueak.”
When you met his gaze, there was no humor in his eyes. The disconnect of his tone when gazing narrowed eyes is enough to have you falling into pure silence.
Then came the trembling of your shoulders.
And under his knowing look, each part of your resolve shattered. Every ounce of effort put toward maintaining some level of composure lifted into the air like smoke.
Your hand was hurting.
You were embarrassed.
You felt guilty that the dinner you’d been so excited to share with him was now ruined.
Should have used two plates.
Why did you put all of it onto one?
Stupid, stupid, stupi—
“Pips?”
His voice was softer than usual. You hung your head, attempting to shield yourself from him only to feel your body tugged in his direction. You came face to face with him again, but his expression had shifted entirely.
“I–” you tried, but it came out weak and choked.
A humorless chuckle that sounded more like a sigh left him as you dropped suddenly. You didn’t close your eyes or react, knowing very well the floor was not an option.
Not when strong arms were out and ready for you as always. Sometimes you wondered where you would be without him…how your life would have gone if he’d never returned.
Before you could spiral down another path, Caleb’s voice coaxed you back to him.
“I know very well that you were never scolded for makin’ a mess by me or gran,” he said quietly. He had always managed to find the perfect balance between comfort and curiosity with you. “So…where’d that come from? Who made my pips think she was anything other than amazing?”
Your mind wondered the same, too scrambled to come up with an answer. The voice certainly hadn’t been entirely your own, but the knowledge was beyond your reach as you came down piece by piece.
A hum of understanding left him despite your lack of response as he carried you out of the kitchen and used his evol to rid of the mess.
Evidence gone...like it never existed.
Because whether a broken plate or a threat to your carefully curated stability, it was all the same to him.
Disposable.
Undeserving of the place in your thoughts it attempted to take.
“I’m here,” he promised, your heavy eyes threatening to close in his embrace.
“‘M sorry,” you murmured, but the man simply pressed a kiss to your temple, promising to be at your side when you woke.
--
*Zayne*
You let out a sharp breath as you squeezed your hand shut.
It did nothing to help the sting of your palm, bloody knife on the ground and half cut cake on the counter. You felt the tears form before you could stop them, slipping down your cheeks.
“I’m so stupid,” you whispered softly. You backed up until you hit the counter beside the sink, sliding down it and ignoring the dull ache of the handle hitting your back. You knew you should treat the wound. It was an easier fix than any wound you’d gotten out on the field, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to actually do it. You felt frozen, somehow, feeling the blood slip down your wrist toward your elbow, even more so when you opened your hand to give it a break from the strain.
“I’m sorry?”
You flinched at the voice, snapping your head up to see Zayne frowning from the kitchen doorway. You parted your lips to speak, but before you could he was walking toward you with his eyes locked on your poorly hidden hands.
“You…” he started, eyes flickering in surprise when he looked over to see the knife on the floor and the red dots leading to where you sat. “You are hurt?”
“no,” you said automatically, shaking your head as you attempted to think of anything to get out of the situation. It was awful enough you ruined his surprise treat, he didn’t need to know you were one of the klutziest Hunters alive.
“You are,” he said with a finality that had you wanting the floor to swallow you whole. Rather than wait, Zayne leaned down slowly, reaching out to you even slower. Like you were some wounded animal ready to bolt.
“Love–”
“I don’t like to see you hurt,” he offered, barely above a whisper. His eyes lifted to your own for a brief moment before shifting back down to your wound. “Physically or otherwise.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, slowly easing the pressure on your hand and holding it out with a wince. It looked much worse than before, new and dried blood staining it almost entirely red.
Zayne didn’t panic. If anything, the sight made his gaze soften further.
“You’ll need some stitches,” he said, maintaining the same quiet tone as he observed. “May I?”
“It’ll hurt.”
He smiled slightly and you can’t help but weaken even more. “More than this does?”
He made a valid point.
It was why you were in the bathroom with him minutes later, avoiding your hand like the plague while he worked. He had offered to take you to the hospital to numb the area first, but the idea felt more mortifying. You didn’t need to broadcast your incompetence to his place of employment.
“...’m sorry.”
A huff from the doctor you managed to become engaged to.
“You have no reason to apologize.”
“But I ruined the—”
“You matter the most,” he said without hesitation. “No dessert in the world matters more than my wife.”
Your heart fluttered as the knot in your chest loosened.
“You called me your wife,” you said, tone airy.
He raised a brow, wrapping your hand securely before lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to the padding.
“Fiance is not a strong enough word, anymore. Don't you agree?”
Short and sweet. Hurt/comfort for Valko. Reader is described as hot and cold in temperament. 🤭
Could be read as platonic or romantic.
Not beta'd~
*
He lingered at the balcony.
Your balcony, to be specific.
You were talking on the phone and he didn't want to just pop in like the first time. You had nearly fed him a bullet which had, admittedly, made him proud.
You were ruthless…but only with a weapon. Only when you absolutely needed to be.
That was why he was here with the wound that looked like a cut on the surface but might be more serious than he’d like. A frown formed on his lips as the universe decided to confirm his suspicion, vision tunneling until he forced it away with rapid blinking.
Okay, the knife had definitely been laced with something.
“No, Tara, I am not, in fact, worried about intruders. Who the hell would break into the apartment of an association employee?”
There was a teasing lilt to your voice, obviously not taking the concern seriously. It was only when you pulled back your curtains and nearly yelped as you stared into unfocused amber eyes that he allowed a small smile to form on his lips.
“Tara, I will call you back. A stray is here.”
Your voice was dry, but he saw what you tried so hard to hide.
Concern.
Your eyes immediately scanned over him. He supposed it was your version of triage, no doubt learned from the doctor friend of yours.
“What the hell, Valko?” you whispered.
“Just a friendly visit. Didn’t want to scare ya~”
“Friendly visit my…”
A pause.
He followed your gaze, not at all surprised you had discovered his wounds without much issue.
“That…”
A chuckle, weaker than he would have liked, left him.
“Sweets…mind letting a poor wolf in? He’s feelin’ a bit…”
Valko swayed forward, nearly ramming his ribs into the balcony railing as you lurched to balance him. He used his remaining strength to get over the railing and onto your property safely, murmuring his thanks.
Then came the spinning and your voice barking out words he couldn’t quite make out.
All he could think before resting his eyes was how pretty you looked yelling at him.
**
He felt warm.
Not the stuffy warmth he expected when returning to consciousness. No, this was much more pleasant.
Safe.
He was tempted to seep back into it for a few more minutes, only to force his eyes open when he remembered he had passed out at your place.
So where were you?
His eyes darted around the empty bedroom, spotting you sat by the window with a blanket around your shoulders. At first he thought you might be awake, but when he managed to hobble over to you, your eyes were closed. Your breathing was soft and slow, brow furrowing on occasion but your rest uninterrupted.
He sat on the floor by your feet quietly, resting his arm against the cushion and his cheek against said arm. He studied you as best he could with the lingering symptoms of whatever he’d accidentally ingested.
“Thanks for not abandoning me,” he whispered softly, unsure of where the vulnerability had come from. Maybe another side effect. Maybe the reality hitting him that he hadn’t had someone take care of him since his mother passed while he was a pup.
Whatever it was, it had him closing his eyes to avoid letting a single drop fall.
It would disturb your sleep.
“Valko…”
He perked up, his attention drawn to you and your still sleeping form. He chuckled to himself when he realized you were sleep talking…yet another cute habit of yours he happened to learn about.
“Don’t…go.”
His shoulders lifted in surprise.
You were dreaming about him. Not to call him an idiot or scold him.
But to ask him to stay.
This time he had to lift an arm to his eyes, rubbing roughly as he cleared his throat to avoid the whimper wanting to escape.
“Damnit,” he huffed, torn between amused and touched. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, doll.”
You were stuck with him.
If anyone had asked him months ago if you’d be okay with that, he would have laughed and given a firm ‘hell no’ despite the ache in his chest.
But if anyone asked him that morning when he’d woken up, this time to you rubbing a thumb against his cheek while thinking he was still asleep, he’d have a much different answer.
One that filled him with more hope than he’d ever be willing to admit.
need to scream abt this otherwise i'll go insane. his expressions are so honest. the way his eyes immediately go all empty and unfocused as soon as he smells her. the soft, dazed, far-off look in the last frame. he looks like he's struck dumb and also about to cry 🥺💖🐺
the sheer harrassment, bullying, and dismissal of dark-skinned players while they were reaching out to infold to fix the horrible lighting (that not only broke immersion, but felt like mockery, it was that bad) should never be forgotten.
these players, particularly africans, were also dragged for no fucking reason by valko antis on the CN side when his trailer was released.
and when valko's cancellation was announced, wallahi i was going through every social media platform. they were the first to rally against infold, demanded he be brought back which paved the way for many of us who felt hopeless, to join them.
so now that a bunch of valko antis & global meatriders of #them are trying to accuse these people for being "performative" & "not putting this effort into the lighting issue" despite never ONCE speaking about it, you best believe getting flamed to hell is the only valid reply.
genuinely it is one of the worst moves valko antis & randos who try to act indifferent can pull because where the hell were you when dark-skinned players were, and still have been, getting cyberbullied & harassed? now you're trying to act holier-than-thou in a vain attempt to use the lighting issue against them? the hypocrisy is actually insane to me wtf
anyways my heart goes out to all the dark-skinned players. even if valko is back i won't touch the game if the lighting still sucks because after everything you guys go through in a fandom filled with bigots, you were the first to advocate for his return. the least infold can do is fix the lighting. it's indescribably unfair how dark-skinned players are always getting the short end of the stick
