#both of them are NOT night people and are suffering | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dismalflo · 28 days ago

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loving is easy

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ✩ 4.3k words

summary: Being friends with idiots is hard. how long will it take them to realise you and Remus are dating? or a series of events where you become progressively more obvious.

cw: fluff, steamy makeout towards the end but no smut, established relationship

Somewhere between late night study sessions and early morning conversations, you fell in love. To your amazement Remus fell in love with you too, his honeyed words and soft touches taking on a new meaning. What started as quiet, timid affection bloomed into an all consuming devotion. Happy and safe.

At the start, you both decided to keep it quiet, nurture it by yourselves with no interruption. But time has a way of slipping past unnoticed, and now the two of you are in deep, and no one else has caught on. It’s not as if you’re hiding, exactly; you and Remus just prefer the intimacy of privacy. And honestly, there’s a quiet thrill in watching how long it takes your friends to figure it out.

The great hall.

The smell of toast and tea lingers in the air as you trudge through the double doors of the Great Hall, hair still mussed from sleep and jumper slightly askew. It’s far too early for the kind of noise James Potter is making, voice echoing off the high stone walls as he waves his hands dramatically about something you don’t have the energy to decipher.

“…and I told her, I don’t care if you hexed my quill, I’m still not going to that—”

He cuts off mid-sentence, eyes flicking past Sirius to you. His mouth snaps shut like a trap. Sirius glances behind him, curious about what could possibly silence James of all people.

You offer a sleepy wave as you shuffle closer, barely catching the way Remus’ head lifts from his folded copy of the daily prophet. His gaze finds you instantly. A slow smile tugs at his mouth, and his shoulders visibly relax, as if just seeing you settled something in him.

“Morning,” you murmur, sliding onto the bench beside him, bumping your knee lightly into his under the table. He shifts just slightly, his hand coming to rest on your thigh in a gentle squeeze, grounding and familiar. You hide a small, content smile behind your cup of tea.

Across the table, Sirius raises an eyebrow over his plate of eggs. “You look like you got hit by a bus.”

You open your mouth to retort, but Remus beats you to it, not even looking up from his paper. “Leave her alone, Pads. Some of us don’t spend an hour in front of the mirror every morning.”

Sirius scoffs, flicking a crumb at him. “Jealousy is a disease, Lupin.”

James is still watching you—narrowed eyes, brow slightly furrowed, as if he’s trying to do complex equations in his head. You glance his way, and he startles like he’s been caught.

“You alright?” he asks, eyes flicking briefly to Remus, then back to you. “You look—well, not great.”

You blink at him over your tea. “Cheers, James.” you deadpan, “I’m just tired.”

He opens his mouth to say more, maybe apologize, but Lily slides onto the bench beside you with a rustle of parchment and the kind of purpose only she can manage this early in the morning.

“Did you start the Transfiguration essay yet?” she asks, nudging your elbow meaningfully. “Because McGonagall will have your head if it’s late again.”

You groan, resting your temple against your palm. “Started it, yeah. Finished it? Not even close.”

Lily sighs, long-suffering but fond. “Library after lunch.”

You nod, and the two of you slip into an easy rhythm—first the essay, then weekend plans for Hogsmeade. Remus stays quiet beside you, content to listen, a soft, knowing smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

At some point, without saying anything, he sets his paper aside and starts assembling a plate. Two slices of toast, a spoonful of marmalade, a soft-boiled egg, a handful of your favourite fruit. He doesn’t announce it or fuss, just places it gently in front of you, brushing a few stray crumbs off your sleeve with ease.

By then, James and Sirius have resumed their conversation, judging by the rising volume. Lily spots Slughorn across the way and excuses herself with a quick goodbye, already halfway across the room before you can respond.

You turn back to your tea, only to pause. The plate of food wasn’t there before but it’s exactly what you would’ve gotten for yourself. Toast arranged neatly, marmalade on the side. You glance sideways. Remus is already reading again, pretending not to notice your looking.

Under the table, your hand finds his. You link your fingers, gentle and grateful, and when you squeeze, he squeezes back. It’s warm, steady.

You lean in slightly, just enough so he can hear you over the breakfast chatter.

“Thank you,” you murmur, thumb brushing along the back of his hand.

Remus doesn’t answer right away, eyes still on the paper; but the smile tugging at his lips is unmistakable. Quiet. Fond. Yours.

“It’s nothing,” he says softly, in a way that means everything.

You open your mouth to say something more, because it's not nothing and Remus is the sweetest boy you know, but Sirius cuts in from across the table, dramatically dropping his fork and fixing Remus with a mock-offended glare.

“Why don’t I ever get breakfast made for me, Moony?” he demands, gesturing wildly at your plate. “You’ve known me longer. I’m charming. Handsome. A delight, really.”

Remus doesn’t even look up. He just turns a page.

“Because you’re a right wanker,” he replies, so evenly it takes a beat to register.

Sirius gasps, clutching his chest like he’s been wounded. “The audacity! James, did you hear that?”

James snorts into his tea. “Hard to miss. He’s not wrong, though.”

“I’m hurt,” Sirius insists, turning to you with wide, dramatic eyes. “He used to be so sweet. So gentle.”

You glance at Remus, one brow raised. “Did he?”

The infirmary.

If Remus had to pinpoint the worst part of the full moon, he doesn't think he could. The way his body is violated and his mind succumbs to bestial madness is high up there. Or maybe it's the way his mind is tormented month-round, collapsing from exhaustion afterwards and being plagued with worry for the next. A vicious, never-ending cycle. This time, he thinks, it's waking up the morning after the full moon.

Though he can tell it was a particularly bad one, it’s not the aches and pains. It’s waking to you, curled in an armchair at his bedside, asleep. Remus hates that you worry so much, that it affects you. Your neck is at an awful angle, and there's a faint crease between your brows, even in sleep.

He exhales, the breath barely more than a rasp, and your lashes flutter in response. You shift, not fully awake at first, and then, like something clicking into place, you sit up straighter, eyes flying open.

"Remus," you say softly, already pushing yourself to your feet and crossing the space between the chair and the bed. Your hands find his arm gently, carefully, as though you're afraid even your touch might hurt. "You're awake."

He tries to offer a weak smile, but it falters before it can fully form. "Unfortunately."

"Don't say that," you murmur, frowning as your hands glide down to check for injuries, the kind that bandages don't always catch.

“I’m fine, dove,” he lies, out of habit more than belief.

You ignore him. “Let me get you some water,” you say, already moving toward the small table where a pitcher and glass had been left. You pour it, return, and sit beside him on the edge of the bed, holding it to him with steady hands.

He accepts it, grateful but quiet, sipping slowly. When he’s finished, you set the glass back on the nightstand with a soft clink.

His brow furrows. “Why are you here?” he asks, voice hoarse but laced with genuine confusion. “You usually come after I’ve woken up.”

You hesitate, brushing a bit of hair away from his damp forehead. “You… woke up early. Just for a little while.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I know.” Your hand stills against his temple. “It wasn’t for long. James came to get me. Said you were–” You glance away for a moment, mouth tightening. “You were in pain. And saying my name. Over and over. Apparently Sirius and Madam Pomfrey had to hold you down to get a calming draught in you.”

Remus goes still. Shame rolls through him like a fresh wave of fever. He looks away, down at the rough wool blanket, his hands balled in the fabric.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, the words bitter on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have– I didn’t mean to wake you. You didn’t have to come.”

“Stop being silly,” you say, almost fondly, but there’s a steel thread beneath it. You reach for his face again, gentle but firm, guiding his gaze back to yours. “Of course I came. You think I’m going to stay in bed while you’re in pain, calling for me?”

He starts to respond, some garbled protest forming in his throat, but you cut it off by leaning forward and pressing a quick, sure kiss to his lips.

It’s warm. Soft. Gone before he can even react.

He blinks at you, stunned.

“I’ll always come,” you say simply, your fingers still resting at the edge of his jaw. “You don’t have to be sorry for needing someone, Remus.”

Silence settles between the two of you.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he. It’s not awkward. shifting just slightly on the mattress, curling one leg up under you, you begin brushing the hair from Remus’ forehead again—gentle, patient sweeps of your fingers, like you have all the time in the world. His hair is still damp with sweat, a little tangled, but you don’t seem to mind. You just keep smoothing it back, over and over, letting him rest in the rhythm of it.

Remus closes his eyes. Not to sleep but just to relax. The silence swells around you, filled only by the quiet sounds of the castle waking up; distant footsteps, the occasional creak of old wood, and your even, steady breaths.

Eventually, his voice slips through the hush, barely more than a whisper. “Where are the others?”

You smile faintly. “James is with Regulus. Doing God knows what. Hopefully sleeping.” You roll your eyes, affection bleeding through the exasperation.

That gets a faint huff of a laugh from Remus, which quickly dissolves into a wince. He presses a hand to his ribs.

“And Sirius?” he asks.

You glance toward the door. “Went to get breakfast. Said you’d need something solid, not just Pomfrey’s apparently sad excuse for toast.”

Just as you say it, the door creaks open and Sirius steps inside, a paper bag tucked under one arm and two cups in his hands. The scent of butter and cinnamon trails in with him.

“Speak of the devil,” you murmur.

Sirius pauses when he sees the two of you. You're still perched on the edge of the bed, one hand resting lightly against Remus’ temple, the other curled in your lap. Remus’ eyes are open now, glassy with exhaustion but softer than they’ve been in days. The two of you are close and something about the look on your faces makes Sirius stop mid-step.

Then he just clears his throat and steps forward, saying nothing about it. “Brought food.”

He places the bag and drinks on the nightstand with uncharacteristic care, glancing once more between the two of you. His gaze lingers on Remus, searching for signs of deeper pain or unease, but seems satisfied by what he finds.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says softly, stepping back. “See you later, Moons.”

There’s a quiet fondness to it.

“Thanks, Pads,” Remus says, voice rough but genuine.

Sirius nods and slips out the door with barely a sound.

Sirius finds James exactly where he expects: sprawled on one of the beaten-up sofas in the Gryffindor common room. Less expected is Regulus, curled under James’s arm, head tucked into his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. James looks half-asleep, fingers lazily combing through Regulus’s hair, while Regulus is clearly pretending he hadn’t just dozed off.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “For Merlin’s sake,” he mutters, stepping over the hearthrug. “Is there something in the Gryffindor water this year? Everyone’s getting domestic.”

Regulus lifts his head just enough to shoot him a glare. “You sound like you’re sixty.”

“And you look like you’re two seconds from sucking your thumb,” Sirius shoots back, dropping down onto the coffee table with a dramatic sigh. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, then looks squarely at James.

“You’ll never guess what I just walked in on.”

James, ever patient when Sirius is in a mood, lifts a brow. “Tell me.”

Sirius jerks his chin toward the entrance of the common room. “Remus is awake. Looks like hell, obviously, but that’s not the point. The point is…” He pauses for dramatic effect, glancing meaningfully between the two of them. “Y/N was there. Sitting right beside him. Touching his face. Whispering. Very softly, I might add.”

James frowns. “So?”

“I’m just saying,” Sirius drawls, “it was very couple-y.”

James lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head. “No way. They’ve been like that for ages, they’re just friends, mate. Remus would’ve told us if they were dating.”

Sirius nods, like that settles it.

Regulus snorts into James’s shoulder.

“What?” Sirius narrows his eyes.

“You two are incredibly dense,” Regulus says without looking up. “They are dating. It’s obvious.”

James and Sirius look at each other, then back at Regulus in perfect unison.

“No offence, Reggie,” Sirius says, raising a brow, “but they’re our friends. I think we’d know.”

“You think you’d know,” Regulus says flatly. “But you don’t. Because Remus is private and stupidly noble, and your friend is just as bad. Do you really think he’s going to announce it over breakfast? What would he even say—‘pass the marmalade, I’m in love’?”

James blinks.

Sirius blinks.

Then they both burst out laughing, as if Regulus is mental.

The black lake.

With the summer months fast approaching, and a week passing since the full moon, the warm weather has called for a relaxing day on the shore of the black lake. You're laid out on a blanket with Remus sat beside you, your head resting on his thigh.

With closed eyes, you can picture the peaceful look on Remus’ face as he reads with his fingers twirling in the ends of your hair.

The sun is warm where it filters through the branches above, casting soft, dappled patterns across your skin. Somewhere behind you, someone splashes into the lake with a shout, followed by a chorus of laughter. But it all feels far away.

You sigh, content, eyes still closed. “If I die right now,” you murmur, “tell Madam Pomfrey I went happy.”

Remus huffs a soft laugh, the vibration of it echoing down through his thigh. “Bit dramatic,” he says, though there’s affection in it.

“Mmm,” you hum, noncommittal. “We’ll see what you say when it happens.”

Another beat of silence. You think he’s gone back to reading–until his fingers pause, then still.

“Everyone’s out of the dorms tonight,” he says casually, “some ravenclaw party, or something.”

You open one eye, peering up at him. “You planning to go?”

Remus shakes his head. “No. I thought maybe… you’d want to come up for a bit. To mine.” His voice dips a little lower. “Just us.”

“I’d love to,” you say simply. “You and me. No interruptions. I’ll finally have you all to myself.”

Remus’s eyes soften. He sets the book aside, turning his full attention to you. “You already have me,” he murmurs.

Your only response is to wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, the grin on your face unmistakably wicked. Remus gives a soft, breathy laugh and shakes his head. “Minx,” he says, voice full of fondness.

You're just about to respond–something equally teasing on the tip of your tongue–when there’s the familiar thunder of approaching footsteps.

Before either of you can move, Sirius throws himself down onto the blanket with a loud oof, landing half across your legs and knocking Remus slightly off balance.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter, even as you’re giggling.

Sirius groans dramatically as you swat at him, your hand smacking against his shoulder with no real force.

“You love it,” Sirius replies, grinning like the absolute menace he is.

Before you can retaliate with some biting remark, a familiar voice calls out from behind.

“Y/N!” Lily’s voice rings clearly through the warm air, her red hair catching the sunlight as she approaches. “You coming to the greenhouses? Marlene’s already started without us and Dorcas is claiming all the best pots.”

You sit up with a groan, shoving Sirius more forcefully this time. He rolls onto the grass with a theatrical oomph that earns an eye-roll from Remus.

“On my way!” you call back to Lily, brushing grass off your legs. You turn to Remus, eyes softening, your hand brushing his wrist. “Later?”

He nods, that quiet little smile playing on his lips. “Later.”

Sirius waves lazily from the blanket, still lounging, and you hear him shout a cheerful “See you later, Y/N!”

The two of you start walking toward the greenhouses, and once you’re out of sight, Sirius suddenly sits up. Remus catches the shift in his mood, the way he straightens, a more serious look crossing his features.

Then, as if deciding to finally ask whatever's been on his mind, he looks at Remus, his voice quieter than usual. "You two are friends, right?" he asks, a slight edge of curiosity in his tone.

Remus, who’s watching you walk away, doesn’t hesitate. "Yeah. Of course." He’s telling the truth, you might be his girlfriend but you were his friend first and you're his best friend now.

There’s a brief pause, and Sirius nods slowly. He makes a soft sound, tapping his fingers absently on the grass, clearly stewing in his thoughts. Remus knows he’s trying to find the right words, the ones that aren’t too blunt but also get at whatever Sirius is really thinking. After another long stretch of silence, Remus sighs, deciding to make it easier.

“Spit it out, Pads. You're not very tactful.”

Sirius huffs a small laugh, a little awkwardly, before shifting on the blanket. He rubs the back of his neck, clearly conflicted. “I was just thinking,” he starts, “You… fancy her, don’t you?”

The question hits Remus like a sharp poke to the ribs. He looks over at Sirius, surprised at the bluntness, then immediately thinks Oh. He can’t help but chuckle lightly, thinking Sirius has finally put it all together–that he and you are already together.

“Well, yeah,” he says nonchalantly, his gaze drifting back to you. “I do.”

Sirius, however, just stares at him for a moment, blinking in confusion. “You… do?” He asks slowly, his brows furrowing in disbelief. “So, why are you not doing anything about it? Do you need help telling her?”

Remus freezes for a second, eyes narrowing. The warmth in his chest from the thought of you is still there, but now it comes with a pinch of amusement. He opens his mouth to respond, but then quickly closes it. Sirius really has no clue, does he? Remus can’t help but laugh softly, shaking his head.

“I don’t need help, Pads,” Remus says, his voice an easy mix of affection and slight exasperation.

Sirius scoffs, “If this is some mopey werewolf bullshit, I don't want to hear it. You deserve to be happy, Moony.”

“I am happy,” Remus stresses, “I’ve done all I need to.” he nods at Sirius, hoping that the boy can read between the lines.

“Okay.” Sirius sighs.

The dormitory.

The evening sun casts its last golden rays over the horizon as the two of you find yourselves alone in the quiet of Remus's dorm room. The noises of the day have faded to a dull hum, and it’s just the two of you now–no distractions, no interruptions.

Remus’ heated touch is wandering, hands gripping whatever part of you he can get to. His mouth is warm on your neck, doting but rough, anything else you were thinking of doing tonight quickly erased from your mind. One of your hands is buried in his hair while the other drifts upwards to his neck and jaw.

“Rem,” you sigh, breathless and lightly pulling his hair to move his mouth upwards.

A breathy laugh comes out of him, before he captures your mouth with his own. You sigh into his mouth, and he takes it gladly, his hands moving down to your hips shifting you closer in his lap. His eager kissing is warm, acting like a man starved.

You shift your hips, wanting to be closer, feeling him against you. It elicits a groan from one of you, that gets swallowed between you. Remus’ grip on your hips becomes firmer, working to guide you in your efforts grinding against him, and your moans become more frequent for it.

“Fuck,” he pants, pulling back to look up at you, his grip on you not faltering. He shifts a hand to toy with the hem of your top. “Can I take this off?”

“Please.” you reply breathless and he smiles at you planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth before moving your shirt up and over your head.

Remus moves in again, his mouth mean as it skims across the top of your breasts. It's bliss.

Neither of you notice the door opening until a scandalised gasp echoes through the room. “Bloody hell!” James squeals, immediately throwing a hand over his eyes and turning around so fast he nearly maims himself on the doorframe. “I’m blind! I didn’t need to see that!”

Remus scrambles to wrap a blanket around your shoulder as you shift to move off his lap. Once the blanket is secured, Remus’ hands grip your waist tightly and he looks at you, eyes pleading, begging you not to move.

Sirius lingers in the doorway, eyebrows shooting straight into his hairline as a wicked grin stretches across his face. “Well, well, well,” he whistles, arms crossing as he leans casually against the frame. “When you said you’d done all you need to, I didn’t think you meant you were shagging her. I thought you were a gentleman, Moony.”

Remus, who’s gone a shade redder than any of the Gryffindor banners, pulls the blanket tighter around your shoulders and groans. “Can you both just– piss off?!” His voice cracks halfway through the sentence, and he sounds more desperate than angry.

You stifle a laugh against his shoulder, only mildly mortified but mostly amused.

Remus shoots Sirius a glare, ears flushed pink. “That–that was me telling you she’s my girlfriend, you sod.”

There’s a long pause.

Then, in perfect unison, James–still hiding behind his hand–and Sirius both shout;

“What?!”

“Alright, alright,” you interrupt, amusement clear in your voice despite the heat in your cheeks. You’re still tucked against Remus, the blanket barely doing its job, and your shirt’s rumpled on the bed behind you. “This is really fun, guys, but could you maybe turn around so I can put my shirt back on?”

James lets out a garbled sound still shielding his eyes. Sirius sighs but obliges.

“What the fuck,” Sirius mutters, and James echoes it softly, bewildered and still shell-shocked.

You grin as you press a quick kiss to Remus’ lips, gentle, grateful, and a little teasing. He’s still beet red, poor thing, but the moment your lips touch his, some of that panic in his eyes melts into warmth.

Then, with a deep breath and no small amount of dignity, you swing your legs off his lap and slip your shirt back on. Remus helps you straighten it without thinking, hands ghosting over your sides like he can’t not touch you, even in the middle of the world’s most embarrassing interruption.

Once decent, you move to sit beside him rather than on top of him, though you don’t go far. Your knees still touch. Always.

“Alright, you can turn around now,” you call lightly, brushing your fingers through your hair.

James turns slowly, eyes still suspiciously squinted like he’s worried he’ll see something scarring again. He takes in the scene, both of you sitting side by side on the bed, fully clothed now but clearly together, Remus still flushed and you not bothering to hide your smug little smile.

“So…” James begins, narrowing his eyes, “when did this start?”

You glance at Remus, who looks as though he’d prefer the full moon over this interrogation.

“Be honest,” Sirius adds, crossing the room to drop dramatically into the armchair by the window. “If you say, like, last week, I will riot.”

Remus sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “October.”

James blinks. “October last year?”

You nod innocently. “Started with studying. Got a bit… distracting.”

Sirius makes a sound like he’s just been betrayed. “You mean to tell me you two have been together for months and didn’t say anything?”

“It’s not like we were hiding it,” Remus mutters.

James gestures wildly. “You were definitely hiding it!”

You exchange a look with Remus, who just shrugs helplessly.

Sirius groans, dragging a hand down his face as if it's all too much to bear. And then, with the weariness of a man forced to admit defeat, he mutters:

“For fuck’s sake… Reg was right.”

Remus smirks, finally relaxed again. “You gonna be okay, Pads?”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius says, already slumping further into the chair. “You’re disgusting.”

But he’s grinning.

James just shakes his head, still in awe. “Next time, just tell us.”

You reach for Remus’s hand, lacing your fingers together, and smile.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

masterlist <3

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saintobio · 2 months ago

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THE COLONEL'S KEEPER.

in a war-torn world where survival is a privilege, you never expected to become the object of a feared colonel’s obsession. but as whispers of his lost love haunt your every moment and bullets become the least of your worries, you realize that falling for him might be the most dangerous battle of all.

➤ pairings. caleb, fem!reader

➤ genre. heavy angst, smut, historical au, 18+

➤ tags. colonel!caleb, nurse!reader, non mc!reader, ooc, war times, unrequited love, profanity, violence, loveless sex, explicit smut, mentions of sexual assault (not from caleb), obsession, possessiveness, jealousy, injuries, blood, killings, morally gray dynamics, death. themes contain material that are heavy and disturbing—reader discretion is strongly advised.

➤ notes. 8.3k wc. divider by thecutestgrotto. this is heavily inspired by my other gojo fic s.o.s and the manhwa my beloved oppressor :) couldn’t stop thinking about this au for caleb that i had to just write it :’D reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

➤ next. 002 the colonel’s saint | colonel caleb playlist

The world above was long dead. Ruins of cities stood as monuments to a past civilization, swallowed by the aftermath of World War VI. Beneath the surface, buried in a labyrinth of steel and stone, was where the remaining humanity clung to survival. Here, Colonel Caleb was both a savior and a nightmare—a man whose presence alone sent shivers down the spines of even the most battle-hardened soldiers.

But he was not just any soldier—he was the fleet’s best fighter pilot, a legend in the skies before the war even forced them underground. Even now, when the remnants of humanity relied on aerial supremacy to hold off their enemies, Caleb was the one they turned to. The one who led the most dangerous missions, who never failed, who returned even when others didn’t.

You have loved him for as long as you could remember.

You were a humble nurse, stitching together broken bodies, whispering soft reassurances to the wounded. Your duty was simple yet relentless, saving as many lives as you could with the limited resources and skill at your disposal. You weren’t the best, nor did you claim to be, but you were one of the few who refused to surrender to despair, even as the war bled your world dry. While others faltered under the gravity of endless suffering, you endured. And after a year of tending to fallen soldiers and civilians, you remained steadfast. You were the only one among your female colleagues who hadn’t lost herself to the horrors of war.

That was how you met him.

Caleb was the fleet’s toughest and most formidable leader. He was unyielding and merciless to those who dared cross him. Even with his own people, he remained strict, and his resolve never wavered even in the face of devastating losses. But the night he staggered into the private ward, wounded and bleeding out, you were the first to reach him. You ensured he was cared for, your hands steady as you fought to keep him alive.

“You’ll make it through the night, sir.” You could still remember the desperation in your voice as you tightened the tourniquet around his broken arm, fighting to stop the bleeding. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He lay there, teeth clenched, body tense with pain, every breath labored. “If I die, I die.”

“No!” you shot back, your grip firm with determination. “Not tonight. You will live. We’re rooting for you, sir. The people need you.”

They said falling in love during wartime was a surefire path to heartbreak. Yet, meeting Caleb, seeing beyond his striking exterior, and loving him despite the battles—both on the field and within—was a fight you willingly embraced. You surrendered yourself to him without hesitation, and in return, the hardened soldier who was weary from war found solace in you. He called you the prettiest nurse in the ward, but to him, you were far more than that. You were the one thing he never saw coming.

You were the apple of his eyes.

But, of course, the other nurses didn’t take kindly to that. They resented how you had unknowingly ruined their chances with him, and even more so, how an undeniable favoritism began to surface. While they were left to sleep in rusty bunk beds, you were the one Caleb brought to his private quarters, where the sheets were soft, the air was warm, and food was abundant.

It was easy for them to judge. After all, rumors spread like wildfire about the nurse who shared the colonel’s bed. The gossip wasn’t confined to just the nurses; it reached the soldiers who eyed you whenever you passed, their gazes lingering with knowing smirks as if fantasizing what their colonel saw at night. Even the older civilians bore disapproving glances whenever they saw you. Their silent verdict was clear as day. You were seen as a woman who had traded her virtue for privilege. A harlot draped in a white uniform. A disgrace hiding behind the pretense of care.

You weren’t sure if Caleb knew about it, but it was impossible not to. He simply didn’t care because he had an entire nation to think about. Clearing your name was the least of his concerns. And you knew it. After two years of serving as a war nurse, when night fell, you were simply the woman Caleb claimed as his. A common-law partner, nothing more. He never made promises, never told you that you were the only one in his heart. Because you weren’t. That space belonged to another—the woman he had truly loved. The woman he had lost to war.

His wife.

You tried. You tried to live with the ghost between you, tried to endure the way his fingers sometimes trembled against your skin, as if remembering someone else. You tried to pretend that when he held you, it was because he wanted you, not because he needed something to numb the ache inside him.

But love, when unreciprocated, was a slow and agonizing death.

And all you could do was live with it for as long as you were with him.

Because one day, you knew he could love you the same. And one day, when the war ends, you would be in his arms, building your life together with your kids playing freely and no longer living in fear.

For now, you had to endure what came your way. There are no saints in war times, and patience was a virtue at times like these.

The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nose as you moved swiftly through the underground ward, checking pulses, changing dressings, and murmuring reassurances to the wounded who groaned in pain one after another. It was just another day in the relentless cycle of war, patching up soldiers only to send them back out to die.

Then you heard him.

Colonel Caleb’s commanding voice felt like an alarm to everyone in the ward as he strode down the hall, flanked by his army of men. You weren’t even looking, but you could picture the way they walked, with Caleb at the front, exuding effortless authority, and the others keeping pace just slightly behind him.

“The turbine failed mid-air,” one of his officers reported. “Preliminary analysis suggests a mechanical fault. Possibly a lubrication issue in the main rotor bearings.”

“Or sabotage,” another interjected grimly.

Caleb didn’t slow his steps. “Has the wreckage been recovered?”

“Scouts are en route, sir. We should have an assessment within the hour.”

“Too late,” Caleb muttered. “If they hit us now, we’ll have one less bird in the sky. Reassign Squadron Echo to cover the eastern perimeter. Deploy anti-air artillery in sector four, and keep the missile launchers primed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Just then, a distant explosion rumbled aboveground, rattling the dim lights overhead. You even had to hold onto one of the cabinet doors to steady yourself. A fighter jet had gone down.

“Damn it.” One of the officers pulled out a small tablet, scanning over the mission logs. “Pilot’s confirmed dead. They’re already moving in on the wreckage. We need reinforcements at the north trench.”

Caleb barely hesitated. “Send Private Halloway to the front lines.”

“Roger that.”

His words were sharp and clinical. No emotion. Just another name spoken into a void, another body to be thrown into the fray.

Your hands stilled over a soldier’s bandages. Halloway. You recognized that name.

The same Halloway who had leaned a little too close when you handed him his rations. The one who had brushed a stray lock of hair from your face and smirked, murmuring something about how the battlefield could use more beauty like yours. The kind of beauty that he fantasized at night.

And now he was being sent to die.

A strange thrill coiled in your stomach. Caleb had heard about it. Or he might even have seen. It was a foolish and delusional thought, dangerous even, but you clung to the fact that this was surely his way of claiming you.

As his group passed, your pulse quickened. You turned slightly, letting your gaze linger on him. Tall. Unshaken. Unreachable. This was your man. He was yours and you were his.

You smiled as soon as he saw you, just a little, as if sharing a secret only the two of you understood.

But Caleb didn’t stop. He simply looked away. His eyes remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, and in a matter of seconds, he was gone. Nothing more than the cold air that he often carried.

Steam curled in the dimly lit room as you stepped out of the shower, water forming in rivulets against your skin. The underground base was always cold, but in Caleb’s quarters, the warmth always stayed. Not just because he had his own luxury of a fireplace, but because the warmth also included faint traces of him in the air, in the sheets, and in the ghost of his presence.

Not that it mattered. You were just emotional because he hadn’t been here in three days.

Sighing, you wrapped a towel around yourself, already resigning to another night alone. But just as you reached for your comb, the door swung open with a slow and deliberate creak.

You froze.

Caleb stood in the doorway, his uniform dusted with dirt and gunpowder. His sleeves were rolled up, veins prominent on his forearms and tension coiling in his stance. His gaze flicked over your damp skin, bare shoulders, the towel barely clinging to your body.

You let a small smile play on your lips. “You finally remembered where your bed is?” you teased, stepping closer. “I was starting to think you found another.”

He didn’t respond. Just shut the door behind him with a quiet click.

And the thick, suffocating silence stretched as he began removing his shoes. You took this moment to clear your throat. “I heard about Halloway,” you murmured, tilting your head. “People are saying you sent him to a death sentence.” A pause, then a knowing smile. “Did you do that for me?”

The shift was instant. And it wasn’t what you pictured in your head.

Before you could react, Caleb was in front of you, his body pressing you back until your spine hit the cold wall. His hand gripped your jaw firmly, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his eyes. They were dark, smoldering, and unreadable. This was the version of Caleb that everyone was afraid of.

“You worried ‘bout him?” His voice had a dangerous edge lacing each word.

While you, your breath hitched, fingers curling into the towel. “N-No.”

“You think I didn’t hear?” His grip on your jaw tightened just enough to make you gasp. “The way he talked to you? The way you smiled at him? Handsome guy, isn’t he?”

You denied everything he was saying. You knew one of his officers had been feeding him information, but they seemed twisted to make you out as someone you weren’t. Were they trying to turn him against you? “No, darling. That’s not true. In fact, I can’t even stand him.”

His lips curled, but there was no humor in it. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, Y/N.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “And if I catch you entertaining anyone else again, I won’t just send them to die.”

A shiver ran down your spine—fear, thrill, or perhaps something darker twisting deep inside you. His warning did what it was supposed to do: to scare the hell out of you. But the most dangerous part was how much you enjoyed it all.

And then, before you could even form a response, he pushed you towards the bed.

By the time you looked back at him in surprise, he was already unbuttoning his shirt, looking at you merely as an object of his desire. “Strip off,” he growled, face rigid as ever. “The past few days were damn stressful. Been thinkin’ of you naked all day.”

And so, your nightly duties began. Caleb demanded his reward, and you were too foolishly in love that you surrendered to him without hesitation.

Because as unhinged as his obsession seemed, it ignited something deep within you. The thought of Caleb claiming you as his prize, something he craved at the end of each brutal day, sent the most passionate fire through your veins. That the same man who barely spared you a glance in daylight was the one who burned with desperation to have you all to himself at nighttime.

“I missed you,” you whispered as you slowly unraveled your bare body in front of him, dropping the damp towel on the floor. Not once did you break eye contact, and it was the sexiest thing you had ever experienced in your life.

As for him, he had already rid himself of his clothes. They were a pile on the floor, discarded lazily as he pinned you down. First, he went for your lips. Completely devouring, savoring your taste, and dominating every inch of your mouth. The moment his tongue connected with yours, he deepened the kiss—a little too rough, too desperate that you could barely breathe.

“M-My love,” you gasped, the only time he allowed you to catch your breath was when he was positioning himself between your legs. And then he crashed his lips onto yours once more, enjoying how you moaned against his lips, exchanging warm breaths as he explored your mouth. The kiss was so intense that you barely noticed the feeling of his hardened member pressing against your leg. It felt huge and hard as a rock, a clear sign that he had been wanting a good release for the past few days. And you? You were crazy about it. You had seen his member plenty of times before, but nothing excited you more than feeling it inside.

That wasn’t his agenda for now, though. He took his sweet time trailing kisses along your collarbone, leaving purple marks around your neck, before he feasted on the same breast he had been kneading for more than a minute. You could feel your back arching as your body naturally responded to his touch, with your own hand guiding him to massage your other mound. He nibbled on the nipple, sucking and licking around the nub, then moving to give the other the same amount of attention.

He was like a hungry beast that hadn’t eaten for weeks. With the way he squeezed your tits together and running his tongue along the cleavage, you could already feel yourself dripping down there.

“C-Caleb.”

“Hm?” He didn’t pull away. Instead, he crawled down, spreading your legs apart, and eyeing the swollen lips that he was about to demolish. “Wet already?”

You nodded, looking down at him and watching as he pressed his fingers along the slit, sliding and circling his digits on your entrance. “Mmh—that’s…”

“Be patient now,” he mocked, “Aren’t you so needy?”

That was true, but how could you help it? How could you not want him inside if you could see him stroking his pulsing cock while he was using his other hand to play with your clit? Just when you thought you couldn’t go crazier, he eventually sucked his digits to taste your slick, then he returned them back to your entrance, only this time, entering without warning.

“A-Aah!”

His fingers alone could make your legs shake, and whatever he was reaching for inside you was making you weaker by the second. You were a moaning mess under him, hands clenching on his sheets for dear life as he fingered your cunt like there was no tomorrow. It was only a matter of seconds until you disintegrated in front of him—your legs trembling as your fluid released itself in a series of squirts.

Embarrassed as you may be, it was what Caleb wanted to see.

And he didn’t let you rest before he was already positioning his crotch on your face, his hand holding his cock in place as he slapped his swollen tip against your lips. “My turn,” he spoke in a low voice, smirking as you wrapped your shaky hand around his shaft and let your tongue swirl around his bulging pink head. You could taste the precum on his tip, licking every corner and every ridge under, from his balls back to his tip before you swallowed him entirely.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, pulling your hair as you bobbed your head on his cock, enveloping the warm walls of your mouth around his member as if you were milking him of his cum. Your eyes welled with tears as you fought the urge to gag despite feeling the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your throat. Each and every moan he released made you more determined to please him, to be called a good girl, to be wanted.

You could feel it. With how his cock was twitching inside your mouth, he was about to explode. But he didn’t let it happen. Everything happened in a span of a second when he pulled his member from your mouth before opening your core and slamming his cock into your pussy.

His thick, hard cock stretched you open without mercy. And he didn’t slow down or savor the time. He was ramming into you, hands holding your hips in place while your tits bounced wildly. Caleb’s sweat was starting to trickle along his toned upper body, his abs now glistening as he continued to pound into you endlessly.

“I’d fuck you everyday like this if I can,” he grunted, each word came out raspy. “You like that?”

“Y-Yes! A-Aaah!” You struggled to form coherent words as he hit your sweetest spot at each hard thrust. “C-Caleb.”

The walls were thin. But surely, the colonel’s private quarters would have some sort of soundproofing, otherwise it would be embarrassing how loud the skin-slapping and squelching noises you two were making. It didn’t help that you were practically screaming as Caleb started increasing his speed as he chased his climax. Your walls were clenching around his girth, milking him of his load that he soon spurted inside of you.

You were in a battle of catching each other’s breaths as he pulled out, watching his cum seep out of your cunt before he plopped on the bed next to you.

“Take the pill as soon as you wake up,” he ordered, laying on his back as he closed his eyes. His chest rose up and down as he eventually caught his breath.

But you remained a ragdoll beside him, your lower body still twitching from the intense orgasm and muscle memory. “O-Okay.”

The night was supposed to end romantically. It was supposed to be you and him cuddling and declaring your love for each other, but the thought of him only using your body to relieve himself was torture to your mind. You convinced yourself it meant something more, something deeper.

But the hard truth was, you were only there to fill the silence.

You traced lazy circles over his bare chest, your voice soft yet full of devotion. “I’m all yours, Caleb. Only yours.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I know.”

The next morning, the bed beside you was cold.

You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against the empty sheets where Caleb should have been. But there was nothing—no warmth, no lingering presence, just the stark reality that he hadn’t even stayed.

But you told yourself you just had to get used to it and that Caleb would come wanting you again at night. Like he always did. And so, biting back the hollow ache in your chest, you forced yourself up, got dressed, and headed to the mess hall for breakfast.

The moment you stepped in, you felt it.

Eyes. Watching. Judging.

The low murmurs didn’t stop as you walked past the rows of civilians, soldiers, and nurses, pretending not to notice the whispers that followed you. You kept your chin up and sat down with your tray, forcing yourself to eat the stale bread despite the tightness in your throat.

You had no illusions about what they were saying. They all thought they knew what you were or what you did. Caleb’s woman. His plaything. And after last night, they had even more reason to talk.

But you had work to do.

By midday, you were back in the ward, slipping into your role as if nothing had changed. Patients needed tending to, and you weren’t about to let their petty gossip stop you.

At least there was something to occupy yourself with. They brought in a new soldier to the base, barely back from the front lines if you could add. His face was gaunt, sunken with pain, sweat beading on his forehead as he lay on the cot. His leg was in ruins—shattered bones, torn muscle, the kind of injury that didn’t fully heal in wartime.

You approached him carefully, offering a calm, practiced smile. “I’m here to help—”

His reaction was instant. It was as though you were the trigger to a ticking time bomb. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, snapped to you, and before you could blink, his hands already shot out, grabbing at you with a strength you didn’t expect.

“You—!” he snarled, his fingers digging into your arms, nails raking against your skin as he yanked you forward. “You whore—you whore!”

You gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was fueled by pain and rage, his voice hoarse with accusation. “Ow! P-Please!”

“You ruin men like us! You—you—get innocent soldiers sent to die!” His nails scratched at your cheek, his grip tightening as he shook you. “You’re the reason Halloway’s gone—!”

The words hit like a slap, but before he could do more, hands were on him. And on you. Other soldiers rushed in, prying him off you, restraining him as he thrashed against the cot.

“Stand down, soldier!” one barked.

You stumbled back, breath coming fast, your skin stinging where he had just scratched you.

But the worst part wasn’t the pain.

It was the way the nurses across the ward just watched. Their gazes were cold, as if saying you deserved it. Not a single one had moved to help.

You couldn’t understand the hostility. Couldn’t fathom why people looked at you with such disdain. If it had been another woman in your place, would they have treated her the same? All you had done was love a man—nothing more, nothing less. You weren’t trying to hurt anyone. You simply fell in love.

But as you locked yourself in the bathroom, staring at your reflection while washing the bloody scratches from your cheek, that was when the realization struck.

They didn’t respect you because Caleb never had.

Not once had he claimed you in public, never shown his affection where others could see. He had never treated you like someone worth honoring, never given you the respect you deserved. And if the leader of this war-torn world didn’t respect you—why would anyone else?

The thought alone made your eyes well with tears, but you quickly washed them away. No. You refused to doubt. He loves me. He’d even kill for me.

A sudden knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. You opened it hesitantly, only to find Simone standing there. The only female soldier with a rank high enough to command real respect. At first, you assumed she was just waiting for the restroom, but the way she looked at you said otherwise.

“You got a minute?” she asked, her tone cool and unreadable.

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah… sure.”

The storage room was cold and dimly lit by the single flickering bulb overhead. Dust clung to the forgotten crates, and the faint scent of metal and oil lingered in the air. Hardly anyone came here as it was a place for old supplies and broken equipment, not whispered conversations.

And yet, here you were, in the only room without surveillance.

Simone leaned against one of the crates, arms crossed as he narrowed her eyes at you. “You need to end things with Caleb.”

You stiffened instantly. “Excuse me?”

She sighed, rubbing her temples as if she had already anticipated your reaction. “This thing between you and him, you know it isn’t healthy. Not for you. Not for him.”

You scoffed. Who does she think she is? “You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know more than you think,” she shot back. “I know what kind of man Caleb is. What he’s become.”

You folded your arms, defensive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is that he cares about me.”

“Cares about you?” Simone let out a humorless chuckle. “Do you even know what he’s done? How many men he’s killed just for looking at you?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

“Five soldiers. And counting,” she continued coldly. “Some he sent straight to the gas chambers. Others? He had them tortured in ways I wouldn’t even wish on our enemies. And all because they made the mistake of mentioning how beautiful you are.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “B-But that’s because he wants to protect me. That’s just how he loves.”

Simone watched you carefully before she sighed again, her voice softening this time. “This isn’t love, Y/N. You don’t know Caleb… I don’t even know if he’s capable of loving again.”

What does she mean?

“He wasn’t always like this,” she continued, almost nostalgic as if he had seen another version of Caleb that you hadn’t. “Before the war. Before his wife died. He was kind. Gentle. A man who knew the difference between power and cruelty.” She hesitated, then admitted, “She was my colleague. And my friend. Caleb’s childhood sweetheart, his true love, and his whole life. He loved her sincerely, so much so that he was fighting to make the world better for her. Not destroy it. But seeing him right now, she would’ve hated what he’s become.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. Everything she had just mentioned shot a bullet straight to your heart, but you refused to let it kill you. You refused, denied. No!

“You can’t replace her,” Simone added, her words cutting through you like a knife. “No matter how much you try. So I suggest you leave him before it destroys you.”

The door to Caleb’s private quarters slammed open as you stormed inside, your blood boiling, your mind a haze of rage and betrayal. You couldn’t stop Simone’s words from echoing in your head even if you tried hard enough. You can’t replace her. She’s his true love. His whole life.

“No.” Adamantly did you shake your head. “Stop.”

He loved her sincerely. And still does.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you yanked at the blankets, overturned chairs, kicked over the table. The frustration inside you was begging to be released, and destruction was the only thing that made sense. How could you get extremely jealous over a dead person? You laughed in your head. She was dead. She was gone. Good for her. But despite the constant reminder to yourself that the woman you were jealous of didn’t exist anymore, you knew that you could never erase the fact that you would still never amount to her. And you hated it. You hated her!

In your rage, you didn’t even realize you had grabbed one of his jackets from the pile of discarded uniforms until something tumbled out of the pocket.

A necklace.

It landed with a soft metallic clink against the floor. It was a simple chain, worn with age, with two wedding bands strung together. Your stomach twisted as you picked it up, seeing the engraving was delicate but unmistakable. It had Caleb’s name and hers.

Your hands trembled.

She was still here. She had never left. Not in his heart, not in his mind. He carried her with him, even now, even after all the ways he had made you believe you were his.

Something inside you snapped, as though you were a madwoman who had finally lost her sanity. Like Caleb always said, that ‘there are no saints in wartimes’. So, what was stopping you from going all out? She needed to be destroyed. She needed to be forgotten. In your desperation to search for more pieces of her, you lurched toward his drawers, pulling them open and shoving things aside. Your promise to never touch his things? Forgotten.

That was when you saw a wooden box, hidden beneath neatly folded uniforms.

You yanked it out, prying it open with shaking hands—only to find it stuffed with letters. Some yellowed with time, others crisp as if he had reread them over and over. Her handwriting. Her words. Her love, immortalized in ink.

My Dearest Caleb, If I close my eyes, I can still see you standing on the shoreline, hands in your pockets, pretending you’re not waiting for me. But I always knew. You were never good at hiding how much you loved me. Are you eating well? Have you been sleeping? I know you’ll lie if I ask you in person, but in a letter, you can’t hide from me. And I worry, darling. I always do. I miss the way you hold me before you leave. I miss the way you kiss my hair, thinking I don’t notice how long you linger there. I miss the way you look at me like I’m the only thing in this world worth coming back to. Sometimes I wonder… do you know how much I love you? Do you feel it, even when we’re apart? I hope you do. I hope it’s enough to keep you warm when the nights are cold, to keep you safe when danger is near. Come back to me soon, my love. The house is too quiet without you. And when you do, I’ll be right here, waiting. Just like always. Forever yours, Your wife

A strangled sob tore from your throat.

You didn’t think. You couldn’t. You just couldn’t.

Through hot tears and reckless fury, you grabbed the box and flung it into the fireplace without regard. All her letters spilled out, each and every one of them catching flame within seconds. And you didn’t hesitate to throw the necklace soon after, letting it vanish into the fire with a dull shimmer.

You stood there, watching the flames devour every trace of her. Of them.

“You’re gone,” you let out a mirthless laugh, wiping the tears that followed after. “You’re gone! Leave him alone!”

Your entire body trembled at the thought, your chest undulating in heavy breaths. Then, as if realizing what you had done, you collapsed onto the floor, staring blankly at the fire.

The anger was gone.

Replaced by the terrifying thought of what Caleb would do when he came home.

The FY-26 cut through the sky like a phantom with its sleek titanium frame reflecting the nautical glow of the setting sun. It was the most powerful fighter jet in the fleet; faster, deadlier, a mechanical beast designed for war. And only one person from the DAA was given the honor to pilot it.

Caleb gripped the throttle, voice steady as he spoke into his comms. “Specter-01 to Specter-02, enemy reconnaissance spotted at 2 o’clock, altitude 15,000 feet. Adjust trajectory and prepare for engagement.”

“Copy that, Specter-01,” came the reply of his fellow fighter pilot. “Visual confirmed. Awaiting further orders.”

Caleb’s gaze flicked to the horizon, where a lone aircraft hovered in the distance. He could hear the chatter of enemy comms scrambling to react, but for a moment, his focus drifted.

Below him, a small, crescent-shaped island came into view. His grip on the controls instantly tightened.

He knew this place.

The memory surfaced like a ghost from another life—of a time when war wasn’t all he knew. When he had taken her here, flying low so she could see the crystalline waves shimmering under the sun. He had told her to look down, to read the words he had carved into the sand earlier in the day.

"Will you marry me?"

He could still hear her laughter, the way it had crackled through the radio before she screamed yes over the comms, her excitement drowning out all other noise. His adorable pipsqueak. Her beautiful smile, her sparkling eyes…

Caleb exhaled sharply, forcing himself back into the present. “I miss you, my love.”

That was a lifetime ago. She was a lifetime ago.

His eyes darkened as he thought of his new reality—you. You weren’t her. Not in the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself, the way you looked at him with that foolish devotion. But maybe… maybe he should stop pretending that it mattered.

Maybe he should just settle with what he had left.

You were still there waiting for him. A woman who, despite all odds, loved him with reckless abandon. The same woman who cried on the night he was on his deathbed, doing everything in her might to make sure he lived. And though he could never give you what he once gave another, he knew you’d still smile, even just from the smallest things.

A glance. A touch. A mere kiss from him, and your entire world lit up.

His hands flexed against the controls.

“Specter-02, engage the target. I’m circling back to base.”

Because tonight, maybe he’d give you something to smile about.

The moment Caleb stepped into his quarters, he could tell something was wrong.

The air alone was thick with the acrid scent of smoke, an unusual warmth persisting as dying embers crackled weakly in the fireplace. His gaze swept over the room—furniture askew, drawers flung open, papers and personal belongings scattered across the floor. His gut twisted. It was like a crime scene. Like something vital had been gutted from this space.

Then, his eyes landed on you.

Curled up on the floor, body trembling, and your arms wrapped around yourself like a feeble shield. Your shoulders shook through stifled sobs, but the moment your tear-streaked face lifted to meet his gaze, everything inside him snapped.

His heart slammed against his ribs, a foreign pressure crushing his chest as his vision tunneled straight to the fireplace.

No. No, no, no, no!

It was as if his vision blurred, as if there was a deafening ringing overtaking his ears as he stormed forward, shoving past the mess to get to the source of his rage. The flames had long since died, leaving behind nothing but fragile wisps of ash. But even in its destruction, he recognized what it used to be.

Burned letters.

A melted necklace, the twisted remains of two rings fused together.

The last pieces of her.

His wife.

His breath left him in a sharp, ragged exhale, his lungs refusing to pull in air as scorching rage flooded every nerve in his body.

“You,” he seethed. Your name didn’t even make it past his lips. The word was a knife, laced with something lethal, something beyond fury. His boots pounded against the wooden floor as he closed the distance between you, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles went white. “I’d fucking kill you! What the fuck have you done?!”

You flinched, your body recoiling as if his voice had physically struck you. “Caleb—”

“Shut up!” His hand shot out, gripping your arm down to the bone, yanking you up with enough force that your legs nearly gave out beneath you. “Do you have any fucking idea what you just did?”

“I—I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t thinking straight—” you choked out, shaking your head frantically, eyes wide with panic.

“Didn’t mean to?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, the sound so devoid of warmth it sent chills down your spine. Before you could react, he was already shoving you back against the nearest wall, his arms caging you in, his breath hot with rage as it fanned against your skin. His eyes were cold, piercing, murderous, menacing.

“You burned her letters, our rings,” he said, each syllable aiming to intimidate you. “Destroyed the only damn thing I had left of her! And for what?!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you tried to shake your head, tried to explain, but your throat was too tight, your breath too uneven. Caleb’s gaze alone was enough to make your entire body tremble. But you had to try. “I was hurt, Caleb,” you finally sobbed, the words tumbling out like a plea. “I—I just wanted you to forget her. I wanted you to see me!”

“Forget her?” His jaw clenched. His grip tightened on your wrist, the pressure just shy of bruising. “You think you could ever replace her? You think you have any fuckin’ right to want anything from me? That you could be anything more than a pathetic substitute?”

The words sliced through you like a blade, carving through every delusion you had ever let yourself believe.

Yet… you had nothing left to lose.

“I love you,” you whispered, broken, desperate. “Caleb, I love you… Please. I’ll be everything you need. I’ll offer everything I have and more. Just… just forget about her.”

For a terrifying second, you thought he might actually hit you.

But then, just as fast as it came, he wrenched himself away from you, staggering back as though you were the thing poisoning him. It hurt. It hurt like hell to see the way he rid himself of you as he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers itching to wreck you.

“...Caleb.”

“...I’m sorry, Caleb.”

“...I love you, Caleb.”

No matter how desperately you fought to win his heart, his voice remained eerily calm when he finally spoke.

“Get the hell out of my sight.”

You stood frozen, barely able to process the words. “B-But—”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!” His roar thundered through the room, rattling your entire being like an insect in a heavy storm.

You swallowed down the sob threatening to rise up your throat, willing yourself to move—to breathe—as you staggered toward the door. Your fingers curled around the handle, and for a split second, you let yourself hope for him to stop you. To say something. Anything.

But all he did was stare at you with a gaze so cold, so hollow, it made your heart cave in on itself.

And then, his final words were more merciless than you thought.

“You wanna play with fire?” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll throw you out into the front lines soon enough. See how much you really want to be a soldier’s whore.”

A strangled gasp left your lips, your vision blurring with fresh tears.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t think.

And for the first time since you met him, you realized that no matter how much love you poured into him, Caleb had none left to give.

He stayed true to his words.

The front lines were nothing short of hell. Explosions tore through the sky, painting it in hues of orange and black. The ground trembled beneath relentless bombardments, screams of the wounded and dying mixing with the fusillade of gunfire. It was chaos. It was pure, unfiltered war.

And you were in the heart of it.

Thrown into the battlefield as nothing more than a discarded afterthought, yet you worked tirelessly, tending to the broken, the dying, the ones who begged for mercy even when there was nothing left to give. Blood soaked your uniform, stained your hands, and for the first time since you had arrived at this forsaken place, you realized Caleb was never coming to rescue you. That this wasn’t as simple as temporary punishment where he could rescue you back to the base the moment he saw that you had already paid for your sins.

You had been foolish to think otherwise. Because the punishment was greater than the crime.

Day after day, you watched the planes soar overhead, wondering if one of them carried him. If maybe, just maybe, he’d glance down and remember you. That he’d order someone to retrieve you, to take you home.

But no one came.

Not even him.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse—the enemy arrived.

You barely had time to react before the camp was raided, soldiers storming in with brutal efficiency. Screams filled the air—nurses, wounded soldiers, no one was spared. You tried to run, but hands—so many hands—gripped you, dragging you with them.

“No, please!” you sobbed, thrashing, digging your heels into the dirt. “Someone, help me!”

But the only response was the harsh, guttural laughter of the men dragging you away. You didn’t understand their language, but you understood them. The way their dark, hungry eyes lusted over your trembling form. The mocking smiles curling their lips. The way they spoke to each other, like you weren’t even human.

Like you were property.

One of them cupped your chin, tilting your face up with a sickening grin. “She’ll do nicely,” he murmured in a thick accent.

Another joined in on the amusement. “A fitting pastime for the long nights ahead.”

A fresh wave of panic crashed over you, bile rising in your throat as you began to foresee your fate in their hands. Your fate as the enemy’s new plaything.

“No—NO!” you shrieked, thrashing harder, your nails clawing at their arms. “Caleb! S-Someone, please!”

But no one came.

No one ever came.

That was when your real nightmare began.

They dragged you to their camp, a place so desolate, so devoid of mercy, that it made your previous suffering look like a fleeting dream. There was no hope here. No salvation.

Just pain.

The foreign army passed you from one to the next like you were nothing more than a worn-out relic of war. Their touch was greedy, using your body at their convenience, their grip bruising as they took what they wanted. They stripped you off everything; clothes, dignity, sanity. Sanity. Where is God in all of this?

Your mind drifted, escaping to anywhere else but there. You imagined a different life, a different fate. But the pain kept pulling you back. The jeers, the mocking laughter, the cruel hands that touched every inch of your skin reminding you over and over again that there was no escaping this. You felt dirty, felt disgusted of your own flesh, felt sick that you had to wake up each day living for only one and one purpose alone.

You stopped counting the days.

Stopped screaming when they came for you.

You had nothing left.

Their cruelty settled deep within your bones, your spirit breaking piece by piece until all that remained was a hollow shell of who you used to be.

And the worst part?

He never came.

Caleb, the man who once whispered possessive threats in your ear, who swore no one else could have you, who claimed you as his prize—had abandoned you to this.

It was almost laughable. Truly spectacular.

As you lay on the cold, your body too battered to move, you allowed yourself to accept the truth.

He never loved you.

He never would.

Before you were a war nurse, you once interned as a nurse at Akso Hospital. Life was peaceful then. Even as whispers of an impending world war grew louder, there was an unshaken belief that your nation was too powerful to fall. No one dared to wage war on the strongest nation in the world.

That was the world you knew—quiet, bathed in golden light. You stood in the familiar white halls of the medical facility, the place where it all began. Where you trained. Where you dreamed of making a difference.

Dr. Zayne stood before you, his crisp uniform as pristine as ever, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the medical abstract he had on hand. He had always been composed and steady. A true professional that you looked up to. He was the best cardiac surgeon there was, and everyone in the same field dreamed of working with him. Of becoming like him.

“You're ready for this,” he said, adjusting his gloves. “The war will test you, but your hands—” he reached out, taking yours in his own, running his thumb across your palm—“were meant to heal.”

You gripped his hands a little tighter. “What if I can’t save everyone?”

He thought for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “You won’t,” he agreed. “But you will save someone. And that will always matter.”

You felt your chest tighten. “Thank you for being a good mentor, Dr. Zayne. I hope to see you again someday.”

The golden light around him began to fade, his figure growing distant, hazy, slipping through your fingers.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

It was the chilling air that woke you up from your dream. The icy breeze seeped into your bones, deeper than any wound, any bruise, any violation. Every inch of you ached, skin marred with purple and black, lips split and dry. Your body was no longer your own. It was something broken, something discarded.

You barely had the strength to keep your eyes open and every breath was a struggle as your ribs protested with each inhale. The faint scent of blood and sweat lingered around you, suffocating you. Killing you.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard voices—a noise.

A sharp crack split through the air, followed by a scream—short, cut off, wet. Then another. And another.

Gunfire.

Shouting.

The heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground.

You tried to move, but your limbs wouldn’t obey. The exhaustion of everything they had done to you pinned you down. Your pulse was sluggish, your vision swimming, but you could hear it—him. And the distinct roar of his rage. Perhaps it was your hallucination. After all, you had already lost your mind from this war.

But one of the soldiers outside, his voice barely rising before it was cut off—a sickening gurgle of a sound, as if something sharp had torn straight through his throat. Gunfire erupted in rapid succession, followed by panicked shouts, orders barked in a language you barely understood, only for them to be silenced just as quickly. A storm was tearing through the camp. A massacre.

Then, the door was kicked open. A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the moonlight.

You held your breath.

The familiar combat boots. The bloodied gloves. The cold, murderous gleam of his eyes.

Caleb.

Your lips parted—half in disbelief, half in something uglier. Because now, after everything, after you had finally accepted that he was gone, he was here. His gaze was fixed on you, and something in his features cracked as he took in your state. Bruises. Cuts. The torn remains of your uniform that barely covered your violated body. His fingers twitched over the trigger of his gun.

Slowly, he took a step forward. And when he finally reached you, he knelt, his bloodstained hands brushing against your trembling form as if to confirm that you were real.

Why? Why now, Caleb?

You let out a broken sob, your body giving out as you collapsed into him, while his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly and desperately.

It was for the first time since meeting him where he genuinely, unselfishly took you in his arms with fragile care. “I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m here now. I’ve killed every single one of ‘em for you,” he said in a tone so affectionate you almost wondered if it was a dream. “I’ll take you home. No one’s gonna touch you ever again. I promise.”

The irony, however, presented itself the moment Caleb touched you. Because rather than feeling a sense of relief in his own way of apologizing, a deep, all-consuming dread wrapped around your bones instead.

Because this wasn’t salvation. This wasn’t a rescue. This was a return to a different kind of prison.

Your battered body trembled in his grip as his presence, something you once ached for, now loomed over you like a cruel joke. You thought being here—being dragged through hell, used, and discarded—was the worst fate imaginable.

But, no.

The true horror was returning to Caleb.

Because you knew now. You finally understood. There was no future for you. Not in his arms. Not in this world. And the look in his eyes, that dangerous, unhinged gleam that he would never let you go. You were only going to submit yourself to a never ending cycle. Of pain. Of being unloved.

So before he could react, before he could drag you back into the nightmare of his possessive grasp, your trembling fingers wrapped around his gun.

His own gun. His own weapon.

For the first time, his cold, calculating gaze faltered, widening in shock as you tore it from his holster with the last of your strength. “Y/N—”

The barrel was already pressed to your temple. His hands lunged for you, fast, too fast—

BANG!

The world stilled.

Your body swayed before a slow, almost gentle descent to the ground. Caleb caught you before you could hit the dirt, but warm blood seeped between his fingers. His hands, the same hands that had killed and destroyed, now shook as they cradled you. “No! NOOO! Y/N!”

But it was too late.

You smiled with your red-stained lips. “You deserve to live a life where the women you love—” you coughed, blood bubbling at the edges of your lips as you said your last words, “leave you.”

#caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb angst #caleb smut #lads x reader #lads x you #non mc reader #love and deepspace x reader #xia yizhou x reader #xia yizhou x you

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 months ago

Note

I know you only write for dilfs usually, but could you make an exception? I'm starved for Invincible content🥺

so many perfectly fine dilfs /gilfs in this series, smh...but for you I'll make an exception. 💌

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Second Chance At Love

...in which another version of Mark invaded your world to claim something he once lost.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, yandere adjacent, blood, kidnapping, murder, not proofread A/N: I didn't specify which variant, pick your poison

This is it. That’s how you’ll die.

One of innumerable casualties in the wake of this surreal destruction, caused by no one else than the man you were still helplessly in love with. Well, at least the people responsible for this chaos all wore his stupidly handsome face, though the innocence in his eyes despite everything being long since absent in theirs.

You’re cowering in a corner of the nearest safehouse, huddled in there with countless other civilians as you start to reminisce and regret in the face of doom.

Maybe you should have told Mark about your feelings after all. Not that there ever was an appropriate moment to do so, between his relationship with Amber and Eve seamlessly afterwards. Both were amazing women in their own right, and you could never think of comparing yourself to either of them. But damn it you couldn’t even be mad at those wonderful two, even through all your jealousy.

Mark and you had been childhood friends ever since you had moved into the same neighborhood as a preteen. It was a storybook-like friendship that eventually turned into a one-sided infatuation as you grew older, but not wanting to ruin your friendship you cowardly suppressed them until it was too late.

And when your friend's powers finally awakened, you found the perfect opportunity to end this bond once and for all.

You remember it as if it was yesterday: His face, so full of shock and hurt as you broke out in tears and told him you couldn’t do this anymore. It wasn’t a complete lie.

Being this close to a literal hero made you a walking target, you claimed. Even if you as an individual are insignificant in the greater picture, even if villains wouldn’t try and hurt you to get through to him, conflict seemed to follow him everywhere, so you’ll most likely get into harm’s way at some point.

It was a cheap excuse to hide the pitiful truth that you couldn’t stand to see him build a life with someone else. And in hindsight you hated yourself for having done this. Invinc- Mark had gone through so much already, suffered great losses and was carrying guilt that weighed so heavy it astonished you that he hasn’t yet broken down under all the pressure.

And to add insult to injury, you - one of his closest and most trusted friends - abandoned him out of a selfish hurt that didn’t even make up a fraction of what he felt on the regular.

Enough self-pitying. You’re not the victim here.

If – by any miracle – you survive this, the first thing you’ll do is make things right. Contact him immediately, explain yourself, and promise to overcome this silly crush to be a friend he deserves this time.

But just when you made up your mind, a loud, grating noise cut through your pondering…

…and when you looked up, you were horrified to see the view of a bright night sky.

That meant someone had not only found this place, but also effortlessly tore off the rooftop which was made up of strengthened steel.

For the fraction of a second, when your eyes met all too familiar ones, a naive hope inside of you thought it was your Invincible that had arrived, worried for your safety. But the vastly different costume – covered with blood and viscera - reminded you painfully that again it’s just wishful thinking. A dream that would never become reality, no matter how long you refuse to acknowledge it. This world’s Mark is probably fighting alongside Eve right now, not wasting a single thought about you, and you couldn't blame him.

The Viltrumite scanned the crowd for god knows what, his face falling flat as his gaze fell on you. A flash of recognition flickered in his eyes, just to be replaced by an almost predatory glint.

“Found you!” his tone was oddly cheerful, yet sent a shiver down your spine as you could barely perceive him lunging at you with his sheer inhumane speed. You were sure that now you’ll experience pain beyond your greatest imagination, praying he'd make it quick...

...but much to your surprise the impact never came.

Instead you found yourself high in the air, fighting the nausea rising in the pit of your stomach due to the way too fast ascend. Beneath you the outline of the collapsing safehouse became blurred by darkness and distance, the dust driving tears in your eyes even long after the rubble drowned out everyone's screams.

“He’ll drop me” is the only thought present in your mind, feeling tremendously selfish for not caring about the others whose death you just witnessed. Yes, soon this sociopath will make you fall to your death and laugh at your misery like it’s some kind of wicked game.

And you deserved it either way, didn’t you?

Maybe you disappointed Mark in other realities as well. That must be it, that’s the reason he went out of his way just to find you – to get his revenge for you abandoning him in his darkest hour.

Your first instinct was to scream and lash out at him, and yet you knew trying to oppose a force of nature like him was to no avail. So with no other options you cling to your captor like a lifeline.

Clutching the fabric of his costume in tight fists, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, desperately trying to shun out the reality of your situation. Your behavior earns a low chuckle from the villain, who in return wraps his arms a little tighter around you as he carries you through the sky nearly bridal style.

“Don’t tell me your Mark never brought you flying with him?” he asked nonchalantly, as if any of this wasn’t an absolutely terrifying concept for you. Concerned at your lack of response, he slowed down in midair, gently squeezing your sides. “Hey, it’s okay. I got you. We’re almost there.”

You wanted to ask where to exactly, but your voice failed you each time you tried. So you stayed cradled against his muscular chest like this, trying your best to ignore the way you felt his gaze burning into you even though you refused to open your eyes.

“There we are” he announced, carefully letting you down. And still, as soon as your legs touched solid ground again they gave up and you fell to your knees right away. Initially this foreign Mark wanted to help you, to catch you in his arms once again and reassure you that everything was gonna be alright - but upon seeing tears dwelling in your eyes he knew he had to stop himself, hands falling loosely to the sides and balling to fists in mild frustration.

For a while you remained like this, staring at each other in awkward silence while a storm of conflicting emotions was raging beneath.

“You’re safe here” Mark ultimately spoke, and looking around this place really did seem rather peaceful compared to what you've seen in the news. “The others won’t attack rural areas. We were ordered to destroy main cities and crucial infrastructures mainly.”

“By whom?” The question was burning on your tongue but it died right there, because what does it matter? Knowing wouldn’t make any difference since you couldn’t change the outcome anyways. So instead you ask “Why…why did you bring me here?”

You were already dreading the answer as your mind conjured concerning possible scenarios, however the variant merely gave you a confused puppy gaze that almost made you forget the threat he posed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He sheepishly rubs the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “I wanted to get you before the others would."

That sounded more like a subtle threat than a honest reassurance.

“Please…don’t hurt me…” you beg and whimmer, overwhelmed by all the recent events. You’re shaking violently, tears now wettening your cheeks. The mere sight of it - and knowing he’s responsible - shatters what’s left of his rotten heart.

“Wha- of course I won’t-" He nervously paces around, wildly gesticulating as if he's struggling to put his thoughts into words - seems like they all do have similarities after all. "Oh man, sorry. You know I suck at comminicating! Shit, I fucked up the first impression already..."

Continuing to mumbles inaudible ramblings under his breath, he grips a pillar so harshly that it's combined to dust, making you shuffle even farther away from him.

“Nonononono, please don’t be afraid of me!" he yells so loud that you wince, and the fact that he keeps making things worse upsets him even more. "I could never hurt you, I swear!"

The man in front of you looks utterly devastated, and you can't put your finger on why that is or what you have to do with it.

After all, you're no one important, especially to him. Right?

At first keeping his distance, he hesistantly approaches you while simultaneously trying to appear as harmless as possible. Hands raised in a placating manner, voice calm and quiet, he whispers "I'm so, so sorry...I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's- it's okay..." you stammer feebly to appease him, your body still paralyzed by fear. A small squeal escapes your throat as you feel his palm stroke your cheek, the blood sticking to his gloves drying on your skin.

The former hero was watching you intently, face contorting through a mixture of relief and despair. But there was something else about him - the Mark you knew never acted like this. It's probably only your imagination, but he's so...

Before you could finish your line of thoughts, he closes the gap between you and his lips crashed over yours in sheer exasperation. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he pulled you close, the barely contained strenght of his grip both frightening and thrilling.

"Damn...I keep fucking up" he blurts out, an enamored smile playing on his lips nonetheless. "Sorry for...well, this...got a bit carried away."

It was such a bizarre view: Someone possessing an indescribable strenght, unmatched on nearly the whole universe, being reduced to a stuttering, blushing mess in the presence of a pathetic human.

He was still holding you, without any intent to let you go any time soon, blissfully unaware - or rather ignorant - of how insane this whole situation actually was.

"I always wanted more than friendship, you know?" He confessed this so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world - and opposed to all logic you felt your heart flutter at his words. "But in my world I never had the guts to confess...I was too afraid to lose you completely in case you don’t reciprocate."

You shouldn't feel guilty that you briefly thought back about the Mark you once knew, wondering if he ever felt the same, and yet you did. As if you owed the one in front of you right now some kind of loyality just because he was currently pouring his heart out.

No. Stop. What are you doing here? This isn't right!

The man in front of you is a homicidal maniac who did god knows what to his homeworld, and caused mayhem and suffering across the whole globe without any remorse, just to...

...yeah, why exactly?

As if your thoughts were clearly written on your forehead, he tries to explain himself, expression turning somber as he spoke.

"Back at my world I made some mistakes- no. I did so many irredeemable, atrocious things...and I only understood what truly mattered after I already lost it...after I lost you because of my actions. But I won't repeat those errors again, I swear. I promise I'll keep you safe and sound at my side to cherish you forever..."

You shouldn't feel anything but hatred and disgust at his display, yet you couldn't help but pity this forlorn, broken shell of a man that clutched you like a child would cling to their soothing blanket.

"This world's Mark, he...doesn't appreciat you." His eyes were manic, bordering on pure madness and you felt his fingers possessively digging into your flesh just shy of being painful. "But me, I would erase as many planets as it takes if only it meant being able to hold you like this for another day."

This man was truly a wolf in sheeps clothing - a vicious, instable monster that could snap any time shall your reaction not appeal to his delusions. All that's left for you to do is playing the part and hoping that the remnant of his humanity was enough to postpone a horrible fate.

So instead of answering you quietly sobbed in his vice-like embrace, tears mixing with the stains of death on his costume. You felt him rubbing soothing circles on your back, so tender and tentative you wondered just how long it's been since those hands had inflicted anything but pain.

Who would've thought that getting the one thing you had wished for an eternity could turn into a literal nightmare?

[Next Part]

#invincible #invincible s3 #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #invincible spoiler #fanfiction #writing #oneshot #drabble #nondescriptive reader #civilian reader #no use of y/n

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pythonmoth · 3 months ago

Text

cw: implied torture. body harm mentioned. reader thinks of price as a father figure. reader is unreliable and inconsistent. military inaccuracies.

» conviniences bc this is a fanfic. unimportant oc, don't ask me background. oc is a plot device, never mentioned again, probably. it's just for fun.

simon x f!reader. poly tf141. father figure price.

First part | Last | Next

Surely, if you asked him, he wouldn't even blink and would tell you it was an order. He couldn't do anything. Had his hands tied. He's sorry it happened to you.

Because it was easier.

In this line of work, he's seen half of his teammates die because they were reckless, because there was an idiot who thought knew best and ended up getting killed, or decided to sell out the others for money. Also killed, or in jail.

There's no such thing as a good or bad side when the guns and the bombs go off for both. There's only dead or alive, and you must kill whoever is against you for you to survive. That's how it's always been.

You don't matter in the battlefield if innocents are in danger back home. You do that for them.

Price fought fiercely for his nation. He had passion, he loved defending it with his blood and sweat, but he was nothing. Just another number in the end.

What he could do was try to be someone for his team. These men needed him. And he couldn't fail them.

After so many years in this world, he realized it's easier to just accept orders.

So when the higher ups sent him information and evidence, he clenched his jaw and spent the whole night going through it.

You've been part of the team for years. Nearly a whole decade he's worked with you, saved your ass, and you've saved his. He remembered every single one.

He didn't want to believe it, but the order had been given, and he couldn't refute the evidence. Not when it was slapped to his face like this and he had nothing but his instinct.

For the first two hours, he'd been pissed to his core. You've been everybody's confidant since day one, always listening. You knew secrets.

When he found out you were dating Ghost, he couldn't deny that he thought you wouldn't last, that it would be messy. Ghost's a troubled man, filled with secrets not even you could unveil, but Ghost was completely smitten by you; not that you were any better. He didn't even want to think how Johnny was added to the mix.

He'd seen so many things already, that it just made him blink and nod. It was nobody's business, anyway.

And it was an entertaining pleasure to witness.

However, now it just felt like he's been a fucking idiot. Opening up to somebody wasn't a good idea, he knew this, but if he couldn't trust his team, who the hell was he supposed to trust, then?

His cigar wasted away while he stared at the evidence in front of him. It was too easy, too... fitting, but it was impossible to ignore.

"Make sure she confesses. That's your order" they told Price. Just that. Simple as that.

According to the evidence, you've been selling information on other teams' missions, making copies of documents and entire files. They had your fingerprints somehow, but he couldn't buy it. Price had insisted they continued the investigation at first, because why were you the only person involved? Where were the people that definitely helped you? Why not sell information on your team as well?

"Shut the fuck up and do as we say" they ordered. "Your career is in our hands".

Pretty much.

He genuinely despised the higher ups, taking shitty decisions from behind their desks and fancy suits. Still, orders are orders. He couldn't ignore them or the whole team would suffer from it one way or another.

Price had to think.

If he couldn't just ask you, because, goddammit, he's not stupid, he would have to force it out of you.

How the hell was he supposed to do that?

He couldn't possibly cut your fingers off, or cover your body with permanent scars, because he really didn't believe you were a traitor.

But he could not be accused of insubordination.

And you could very well be lying. You could be making a fool out of everybody.

With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his face, exhaustion making his shoulders slump. He grabbed his cigar from the ashtray and took a long, deep drag from it. His lungs burning, he made up his mind.

Nails grow.

They would be raw for months, but it would not make you lose your normal mobility forever and, if he was right and there was something else going on, he could give you a temporary discharge so you could recover. Away from them.

Or you would be rotting in jail. One or the other.

Price put his cigar down again and stood up from his chair, tapping the desk with his fingertips; a big plan was forming in his mind and he didn't like it.

If you were truly a traitor, he was following orders. If you weren't, he was also following orders. Still, he had something he'd learned a few years ago, when Johnny first started hanging out with Ghost and you.

Johnny had a big mouth when drunk, and he had told Price you were scared of the ocean after a few drinks. He didn't mention a reason, but that didn't matter. He would have to use that.

He couldn't take risks.

He was fond of you, but if there was evidence that could be used against you, he could not afford to hesitate. Not for you. Not for anybody.

For the team's sake, he had to do as he was told.

Price prepared the basement himself.

It made his stomach wrench with guilt, but he kept reminding himself he had no right to ignore orders. He knew you, but...

Obey orders.

That's been drilled into his mind. And he had given an oath.

He knew you could understand that. Every soldier could.

The salty water, the disgusting rags and that bloody chair was ready by the time the sky turned of dark ink. Soon the sun would come out, but he had yet another decision to take.

He knew what had to be done. He knew the best option for you. Still, it was not going to be even a little bit pretty.

All or nothing. They would have to understand.

He came out from the basement, the stairs seemingly infinite for a moment, and quickly ordered Ghost and Johnny to be called in to his office.

He forced himself to imagine it wasn't you. He pictured a different face, a different person begging and screaming in the chair.

He knew Ghost would ignore his command. He was smart enough to ignore his ridiculous order of making you suffer longer than necessary. He was counting on it.

Price couldn't tell Ghost, and he couldn't tell Johnny. No matter what he did, he couldn't put them at risk.

If this went wrong for him, he would be the only one paying the consequences. Nobody else would be involved but himself.

He regretted kicking you the day before, but he got too into his own head, into the character he forced on himself, that only when he was back in his office did he realize what he'd done.

To see you passed out on the chair after enduring so much pain was really just a breaking point for him. He had stormed out and gone straight to his office.

Just as he reached out to grab the phone and call the higher ups, to yell at them to do a fucking proper investigation, to do their job and leave his team alone, someone opened his door without knocking. He was so upset that he actually flinched in surprise.

"Sergeant Garrick" Price said, his eyebrows furrowing, standing up from his chair.

Kyle's face was visibly angry, expression hard. It took Price a moment to realize the sergeant was dragging someone unconscious by their ankle like a sack of potatoes.

"What's the meaning of this? Who the hell is that?" Price questioned, walking over to Kyle, staring down at the man on the floor. "Weren't you supposed to be back tomorrow?"

"Finished earlier. Got here like five minutes ago" Kyle explained, waving his free hand as if to dismiss Price's questions. "He was sneaking out from the storage room. I asked him what he was doing, and he tried to gut me so I put him down. Interesting things in his backpack" he said, letting go of the man's leg. Kyle crossed his arms and looked at Price.

"What things?" he asked, moving to take the backpack from the passed out man, and quickly torn it open. A scoff left his chest. Copies of documents.

"I was gone for five days and all I heard on my way here is that you're going insane and that the Lieutenant wants to gut you. What the hell is happening?"

It had been a goddamn mess.

The man confessed when he woke up, no resistance at all. A soldier Price hadn't seen much before because he wasn't under his command, but as soon as he heard his last name, he knew they were absolutely fucked.

All it took was a call not even five minutes later and Price had to let him go.

Of course the higher ups wanted you to confess. Of course they ordered Price to make you confess, not bring out names of buyers nor more traitors.

That's why there wasn't a proper investigation.

Price stood there as the soldier raised an eyebrow at them, amused, and walked past Price and Kyle, soldiers from another team escolting him away.

Deployment. To South Korea.

A slap on the wrist for the son of one of the higher ups.

It wouldn't take a day for the rumors to fly, so they announced his deployment quickly. The fact that he had tried to gut Kyle apparently wasn't important, either.

Price didn't receive a single call after that. He understood the order to be silent and pretend that never happened.

Couldn't they have done that since the beginning, instead of making you go through this? Maybe it was time to retire.

This only left him with a much bigger problem, though.

He felt guilty for making Kyle work when he had just gotten back, but he asked him to go and make sure the medics were prepared to receive you, while he gave himself a little pat on the back as encouragement, and told Ghost and Johnny to come on up to his office.

He didn't stop Ghost from punching him. He knew he deserved that punch.

It had been his fault to be so careless. If he hadn't thought you could be the traitor, he would've continued with the rags and the gagging instead of hurting you. He had orders and he let them get to his head. And that was his mess to deal with.

"Garrick caught him trying to escape" Price raised his voice again, doing his best to be heard over their yelling. "He's been detained and already confessed. The problem is that—"

"I don't fucking care!" Simon snapped, gripping his desk hard enough to break it in two. "Bring him here, goddammit. I'll put a bullet through his brain".

Johnny was quiet, staring daggers into his head. Price growled deeply, rubbing his face tiredly. "I'm trying to explain why I fucking can't do—"

"The fuck am I here for, then? I'm done with this fucking shit hole" he yelled, not interested in whatever Price had to say anymore.

Johnny and him rushed downstairs, leaving him alone. He didn't leave his office, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes.

In his need to protect the team, he'd fucked up. If Ghost didn't want to listen to him, if Johnny was so angry he seemed ready to stab his guts, he could only rely on you.

It was unfair, he knew. But it was his best shot.

The rumor of the son of an important man causing trouble for Price's team quickly spread, but nobody would dare saying anything out loud. Not properly, at least.

As far as Price knew, it didn't leave the base.

For the whole two days it took you to wake up, Price let the men cool off. He knew it would be useless to try and talk to them when they wouldn't leave your side, and visiting you was out of the question with the two of them guarding you so jealously.

Besides, you weren't awake yet.

He heard the commotion from his office. He knew you had woken up, if Ghost and Johnny's hurried footsteps was anything to go by, so he got up and walked directly to the infirmary, his arms crossed as he waited outside.

He heard Ghost trying to talk to you, your laughter, then your sobs, and he didn't miss the way Johnny was staring at him. As if waiting for a moment to strike.

"Spit it, MacTavish" Price said, sighing deeply. He didn't turn to him, didn't want to meet Johnny's eyes.

"You fucked up, Capt'n. This wouldn't have happened if you—"

"It's not an excuse, but I had orders. You know damn well how this works" Price reminded him, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll explain everything later".

"Fuck this, I'm going in" Johnny mumbled, moving towards the door, but they both froze as Ghost came out.

Ghost looked defeated. His shoulders slumping, his eyes downcast, his balaclava hastily pulled over his head. The wet spots on the mask were easy to catch, but Price decided he would never mention that.

"Simon? How's she?" Johnny whispered, reaching out to grab his arm.

Price gave them a little moment and looked inside the room. He noticed you were on the floor and the sight made him close his eyes tightly for a moment. He didn't give himself a moment to think and walked in.

Ghost didn't try to stop him.

You flinched when you saw him, your eyes wide as he gently shut the door behind him. You didn't start sobbing as you did when Ghost was inside, so he took that as a good sign.

"Morning, lass" he mumbled, speaking softly. Not wanting to scare you, he slowly sat down in front of you, a respectful distance between the two of you. "Isn't the floor cold?"

"No".

"Are you hungry?"

"No".

"Do they hurt?" he asked, nodding at your hands.

"Yes" you mumbled, looking down at your bandaged fingers, then your feet. "Both".

"I know, lass. How about we get you to the bed then, hm? The floor is cold".

He didn't move until you looked up at him and nodded. He made slow, big moves. Price gripped your arms and managed to get you to sit down on the bed without much but a hiss from you. He grabbed a chair and sat in front of you so you could look down at him.

He's had his share of dealing with traumatized soldiers, so he decided to let his soft, parental side take the lead.

"Are you scared of Simon?" he asked you gently. Your shoulders tensed but you shook your head. "Of Ghost?"

"Yes".

"Are you scared of Soap?"

"... Yes".

"Are you scared of me?"

"Yes".

No "John", no "Captain Price". Him. As a whole.

"Do you want me to leave?"

You didn't answer. You looked at him, as if torn between saying yes or not, swallowing thickly. Price sighed and leaned back, giving you space.

"I'm gonna explain what happened, won't miss a single thing. Then, you'll decide. Deal?"

"Okay".

Explaining how he'd fucked up, how he'd followed orders he didn't want, blaming himself for the situation and owning it up, was not something he learned from his superiors. Before, his superiors would stand in front of him and wouldn't even blink, would tell him it was an order. They couldn't do anything. Had their hands tied. Would tell you they were sorry it happened to you, if you were lucky.

When he became a captain to the team, he refused to be like that. Even if he knew it would be easier, even if he lied to himself and promised he'd be ruthless and tough... this was his team. In a way, they were his kids.

Ghost was just ten years younger than he was, but fuck, that reckless, stupid idiot was like a son to him. And he failed him.

He'd failed them all.

By the time Price was done explaining, up to the point of that cocky bastard walking out free, now getting his little things to go on a little trip to South Korea, his throat was dry.

You were silent as he explained how he had to force Ghost and Soap's hands, how Simon and Johnny were completely against it and how Simon had punched Price for making Ghost and Soap hurt you.

They all had orders, and even if they didn't want to hurt you, they did.

His eyes didn't leave yours for a moment, barely blinking, not paying attention to the way his eyes would water from time to time, and was heavily aware of the way you just sat there, staring at him.

"What now?" you questioned after a few minutes of being silent.

"I'll see that you get a discharge for temporary disability. You need to heal first" he assured you. "That's what matters right now".

You nodded.

For a long moment, there was silence again, but he realized it wasn't so bad. You were calm, so he didn't push you. He sat there for nearly half an hour, both of you just processing it all. Until the grumbling in your stomach made him look up at you.

"Hungry now?"

"Yes. A little" you mumbled, sighing as you used the heel of your hands to rub your face.

"I'll ask Dr. Wilson to bring you something" Price offered, standing up from the chair. He didn't miss the little flinch in your shoulders, but you didn't move away so he decided not to mention it.

He turned around, his hands on his sides at all times. As he gripped the door handle, he turned back to you. "Listen, I... can't ask you to give Ghost and Soap a chance, but I can promise you they will do anything you ask. You like cats, right? Tell them to bring you one. They'll make sure to sneak one in, Wilson be damned".

You cracked a small smile, looking down at your hands. After a heartbeat, you looked up at him. "I'm angry, John".

Price turned properly, giving you his full attention again. It took all of him not to flinch at the way you said his name. No teasing, no smile.

"I feel like... I can't trust any of you. I don't know if I can keep on working with you".

He understood. He really did. Still, it would be easier to bear if you were screaming at him instead of looking at him as if there was nothing. As if you hadn't accidentally called him dad more than once, for fucks sake.

In the back of his mind, his eyes burned.

"Do you want to be transferred?" he asked anyway, not voicing his discomfort. "I can't promise you the request will go through, considering they were using you to cover their arses, but there should be something I can do, if that's what you want".

You looked down at your hands, staring at your bandaged fingers. "I don't know yet".

Price hoped you'd stay. He didn't want to lose someone who added so much to the team, and someone so dear. He'd rather go to hell than try and convince you to stay if you couldn't trust them anymore, but he wanted you to stay.

"That's okay" he reassured you. "Tell you what. I'll tell Garrick to bring you something to eat, and I'll work on getting you that discharge, for now. Deal?"

"Deal".

Price saw your lips trembling slightly, moving as if you had something else to say so he waited. Then, you sighed.

"When I get better, I'm gonna wipe the floor clean with you. I'm pissed at you and I'm tempted to kill you myself. I can't believe you put me through that shit, and didn't trust your instincts. Could've talked to me" you snapped, the words flowing from you.

Maybe it was because it was easier to swallow down the misery than to keep on dwelling on it, but you looked relieved after all the explanation he did.

Price's lips trembled slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

"I've been in this long enough to know the higher ups are bastards, but your decisions were poor, and if you try to convince me to forgive those idiots I swear I'm gonna stab you in your— are you fucking smiling?"

Price couldn't help himself, his eyes nearly falling shut with how big he was smiling. He raised his hand gently, not wanting to startle you, and placed it on top of your head.

"You have to forgive no one, sweetheart. I will live with this for the rest of my life, and it will be something that's gon' keep me up at night, same with the other two" Price mumbled, his smile slowly dimming down into a soft glare. "But this is, unfortunately, something you'll have to heal on your own".

Your eyes were wide, your lips tightly shut. Price was struck once again with how much he genuinely cared for this team.

"You don't owe us anything. Not your forgiveness towards us, nor the situation being forgotten in general" he added, his hand gently gripping your head, his eyes warm. "You have my explicit consent to stab me, even if that doesn't change how you feel".

"Deal".

Price couldn't help but laugh, glad to see you crack another smile.

He gripped your shoulder firmly and walked out of your room. Ghost, Johnny and Gaz were there, the three of them standing up immediately.

"Sergeant Garrick" he called, surprised to hear how actually happy his voice was. "She's hungry. Would you mind bringing something? She's okay with you being there".

Garrick nodded and gave the other two a sympathetic pat on their backs before rushing to find you something to eat.

Price turned to them and sighed again, scratching his mustache. "Well... give her time. I explained the whole situation, and I'll give her a discharge for temporary disability".

"Why is she okay with you, and not me?" Ghost asked directly, his voice rough. Johnny was silent, probably going through a few things in his mind.

"My guess? I didn't actually physically hurt her" Price told them, his face suddenly serious. "She said she's scared of Ghost, and Soap. But not Simon, or Johnny".

"What?" Johnny asked, his expression falling.

"It's a trauma response, you know this" Price reminded them, rubbing the back of his head. "Give her time. She's gonna be okay".

"But what am I supposed to do then?" Ghost grumbled, his eyes tormented behind the mask.

"Leave her alone" Price ordered. "You need to leave her alone".

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

am I projecting my own needs on Price bc I have a rocky relationship w my father? mhm. if you cry, let me know.

» where was gaz? on a secret mission. do I know what he was doing? no. it was v secret. /lh

» we're back to reader's pov in the next part. ♡

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @remus-holt @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821

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celibibratty · 2 years ago

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bullying is such a fuck up type of phsychological abuse(i hate that people don't take it seriously to call it an abuse but it is a type of abuse), you don't know what to do, is helpless, when we were kids, everybody used to say(mostly our mother) "just ignore them, they will eventually stop, they will lose interest if you show no reaction", but don't do anything/show no reaction also makes things worse(i hated it, it never helped), it only proves how much of a victim you are, it shows that it won't have any consequences, they can do anything with you whenever they want CUZ YOU ALWAYS WILL DO NOTHING, but if you do react things can go two ways round (or you intimidate them in a way that they will stop trying messing with you(very difficult) or will make worse cuz they will find entertaining), is a no escape situation, you feel stuck, theres nothing to do, every little move or word makes things worse(the advice that i hated the most and mom always used to suggest was "just play along with it, smile, find it funny too", i never bought it that bullshit, they werent my fucking Friends, i not gonna let myself/ourselves being a joke,what they do it/say it hurted me, i can't just pretend it doesnt upsets me)

#reflection #Just a Random thought of the night #I say that our bullying was pretty much psychological but it was also starting to get it phsical #I always remember of an episode that a girl pushed marina to the ground the girl pushed very aggressively(it was kinda dangerous the ground #I just remember me running to her direction kinda worried the girl just walked away as if was nothing she didnt give a damn #I was like are you okay?And marina stand up very calm a little upset (it was weird it seemed like we were so used that we didnt even react #I used to fight with people(in this case i was the aggresor the one that get phsical idk if people fighted back i dont remember)#mom and dad dont even know the rest of it it was so many mess up things i never tell them and both of us has a story #Why do i remembering the bullying phase? Its our/my birthday i shouldnt be thinking about that #I get angry with mom and dad for not Having dealt better the bullying but i think they didn't helped because they also didnt knew what to d #Funny how you can be a family but everyone in it has a different reality #Like my mother suffered a type of bully by her family (uncles) she uses that experience to prove that she understand us...#No mom! suffer bullying from parents its different from suffering bullying by society it mess with your head diferently #Both are bad but they affect differently its not the same thing you don't know how it is/was

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cheapshrimpysheep · 7 months ago

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My Heaven's Light

SUMMARY: Rollo managed to kidnap you before sending the NRC students to Fleur City's Waterways, believing he was saving you. Malleus and the others reach the tower, ring the Bell of Solace and rescue you. Malleus expresses his protective side and Rollo apologizes for kidnapping you.

CHARACTERS: Rollo Flamme VS Malleus Draconia (x Reader)

TAGS: GN Reader; Angst to Comfort; Jealousy

WARNING: Spoilers from Glorious Masquerade; Kidnapping

WORD COUNT: 4.220 Words

COMMENTS: Thinking about the fact that Rollo is the twisted version of Frollo and thinking of MC as Esmeralda, it is inevitable to imagine Rollo kidnapping MC. But not for the same reasons!

Rollo is a really complex character, but one I've wanted to write about for some time now. I plan to try writing more with him in the future.

Until then, I hope you enjoy this one. 🐲🦐🔔

By the way, do you have ANY idea how many times I've looked up synonyms for common words just to get as close as possible to Rollo's way of speaking? One thing is for sure: I am greatly expanding my English vocabulary with this.

Amidst the panic that the firelotuses were causing, both your colleagues and Professor Trein end up paying more attention to the flowers than to you.

As you move away from the flowers, you end up approaching one of the pillars. That's when you feel a hand covering your mouth and another holding your arm behind your back.

You are carried away through the shadows as you try to free yourself, but these attempts only make the hands hold you even tighter and run the risk of injuring your arm.

The person who is taking you leans over and whispers in your ear. “I beg you not do make this more complicated that it needs to be.” It's Rollo!

He takes you to a room adjacent to the hall and pushes you inside, making you fall into an armchair. Just before he closes the door to lock you inside you hear Grim's voice.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]?! MY HENCH-HUMAN DISAPPEARED!”

No matter how loud you scream, or how much you bang on the door, the chaos outside is too loud for anyone to hear you. Eventually you realize something is going on, so you stop to listen to the conversation. Rollo had revealed himself and was talking to your NRC colleagues.

“My, my.” You hear Azul say. “That was quite a predictable villain line, you know.”

“Silence!” Rollo's voice echoed. “YOU'RE the villains here! And what's more, you flaunted your magic and mesmerized our good citizens with it... Just like you did with your prefect. You imprisoned them with you and poisoned their mind. The poor thing became numb to the absurdity after spending every day swimming in it. Mages use their magic to lead people astray and cloud the eyes of the virtuous public. It's sad state of affairs, but it's devastating when the victim is someone like [Y/N].”

“What have you done with [Y/N]?!” Malleus's powerful voice demands to know.

“For now, I am keeping them safe. But once I engulf the world in the fiery crimson of these flowers and strip every mage in Twisted Wonderland of their magic, then I will have saved them, and all those like them who suffer at your hands!”

“You have no idea of the atrocity you are insinuating, Flamme!” Not only does Malleus’s voice thunder, but the sky outside does too.

“And there he is, folks! The secret mastermind who was controlling the ‘final boss’ all along!” Idia says. “But what kind of mastermind jumps the gun and shows up this early? Dude has like, zero patience.”

“Could you not right now? You're ruining the moment.” Azul complains.

The discussion continues with Rollo revealing that his plan is already well underway. When the Bell of Solace rang for an unprecedented fourth time that night, it suffused the city with magic. The firelotuses aren't only in the school. They've spread throughout the city, and are sapping the energy from every mage living there. And after that, he opens the floor for everyone to fall into a pit.

“And those accursed mages, with Malleus Draconia foremost among them... They'll all be finished! Enjoy your time down below. Though I think you'll find it quite...draining. At long last... I shall finally mete out my justice.”

Some time later, the door opens and Rollo enters, extending his hand to you.

“Come. We must go to the Bell Tower. It is safer-”

What he didn't expect was for you to attack him with a tall candlestick. And you discover that in addition to being a promising mage, he also has excellent reflexes. He manages to dodge your attack and grab your wrists so you let go of the candlestick.

“I do not aim to harm you!” He says very seriously. “Please don't turn it into something I have to do.”

“Then what are you doing locking me here?”

“Preventing you from falling for the tricks of those magic-addled fools once again.” He comes closer, still grabbing you by the wrists. “You poor thing. Blinded by villains who wear an elusive mask of companions. But worry not, that tragic state of affairs shan't last much longer.” He brings his face even closer to yours. “Now, I will provide you with a choice. You will accompany me peacefully to the Bell Tower, where you will be safe by my side. Or you will make me forcefully assure your safety. Which one will be?”

If you choose to resist, Rollo will pin your arm behind your back again and place a handkerchief over your mouth and nose. Whatever is in that handkerchief, will render you unconscious. And you will wake up on the top floor of the Bell Tower, lying on a blanket.

You see Rollo with his back to you, looking down at the bright scarlet below. You stand up.

“For the Righteous Judge's sake, don't try to go against me again.” Rollo says, without turning to you. “Even without the use of my magic you will not be able to overpower me.” Still without taking his eyes off the outside he calms down to invite you. “Would you be so kind as to join me in gazing out over the city?”

If you choose to accompany him peacefully to the Bell Tower, Rollo will release your wrists with a smile and give you his arm for you to intertwine with yours.

“I'm glad my judgment of you is aligning with the truth.” He says calmly as he guides. “To remain so virtuous amidst the chaos of magic, you must surely be one of heaven's lights.” You see now a new smile, a peaceful one.

The climb up the tower was silent, as you needed to breathe to climb all those stairs. When you finally reach the top, Rollo extends his hand to you. If you give him yours, he will guide you like a gentleman to a point where you can both see the ominously lit city below.

After your choice:

“Ahh, the city's turned a marvelous shade of crimson... How cleansing it is. I've never felt so at peace before.”

“Why are you doing this, Rollo?”

“Once magic vanish from the world forever, no one will have to suffer with its consequences. Magic is not something to be lionized. It is an evil temptation that, behind its illusory wonders, only causes pain and suffering. If it wasn't dangerous, it wouldn't be like a toxin in your body... However... I wonder how much you actually know about it.”

You look at him as if to ask what he means by that.

“Are you even from this world [Y/N]?” He finally looks at you. “I don't know what it is, but there's something about you that's different from every non-magic user I've ever met. And the circumstances surrounding you are quite... abnormal.”

You choose not to respond.

“I see you have your secrets. I have mine owns as well." He takes his handkerchief to his face. "If you don't feel comfortable talking about your past, then allow me the right not to talk about mine either.”

He puts the handkerchief back in his pocket, and you observe the city in silence for a moment, until he speaks again.

“They will come here. I don't know which students will be strong enough to reach the tower, but Malleus Draconia will certainly be one of those who will be able to reach me. And when that happens, I will guarantee that he will be the first to fall.”

“Why all this obsession with Tsunotarou?”

“Obsession is a very strong word, I simply...” He stops to process what you just said. “I beg your pardon, but am I correct in assuming you were referring to Malleus Draconia just now?”

“Of course, he was who you were talking about just... Oh, I called him Tsunotarou didn't I? Sorry. But yes, I was talking about Malleus.”

“T-Tsunotarou?” He takes the handkerchief back to his face. “Is it some kind of mocking nickname?”

“No! I mean yes, it's a nickname, but no, it's not to mock him. It's a long story but that's what Grim and I call him.”

“Does he know about this... name?”

“Oh, yes. He even likes me calling him by that, he thinks it's funny. Or at least that's what it seams. He smiles every time he hears me say that name.” Just like you were smiling talking about him. “He calls me Child of Man.”

“You have a playful nickname for each other.” Rollo whispers with the handkerchief covering his angry (jealous) expression. “Soon enough you'll feel disgusted by it.”

“Sorry, I didn't understand.”

“No, nothing. Pay me no mind.” He takes the handkerchief away from his mouth. “Ah... I hear the firelotuses rustling... Those wretched Night Raven College mages are making their way up the tower, aren't they? Villains are always so stubborn.” Before you could complain about his words, he puts his hand on your arm and continues. “I must get you in a safer place. Those monsters won't give up without a fight.”

“Who do you think we’re calling-”

He ignores your reprimand and takes you by the arm to a small room that they will not have access to without first going through Rollo.

“I am deeply sorry for what I'm about to do, but I need to make sure you do not alert them to your location.” With his magic, he makes ropes appear to tie you up and a piece of cloth to silence you. “See how despicable magic is? An atrocity like trapping you is completed in seconds. But I will release you as soon as the danger has passed.” And he closes the door.

“Here we are.” You hear Malleus’s voice. “The very top floor of the bell tower.”

“The Bell of Solace stands out even at night.” Azul comments. “Look how it glints in the moonlight.”

“Now to ring it, wipe out the flowers, rescue [Y/N] and finish this stupid pop-up quest for good.” Idia points out.

“But to do that...” Malleus returns. “We must first pay our respects to the host of the party.”

This was Rollo's cue to reveal himself. Which he does.

“At long last, you've arrived. The greater the villains, the more they insist on stopping around. Deplorable.”

“Where are they Flamme?” Malleus demands to know.

“Safe, of course, away from you and your wicked lies.”

“Okay, I really need to ask.” Idia says. “What does our magic-less Prefect have to do with this flower plan and ending magic thing? Why kidnap them? They have no power to stop you. Unless you kidnapped them to keep them for yourself. Good taste tho. But you only met them literally today! That’s like the ultimate desperate creep move.”

“My actions involving your Prefect have nothing to do with personal motives. Innocent victims must be rescued from your evil hands! And that is exactly what I did.”

“I don't know if you would use the word ‘Innocent’ like that if you actually knew them.” Azul comments with a smirk.

“If this is true, it will be proof of your corruption!”

The flowers reach the bell and the exchange of words follows a course that ends with the three fighting Rollo after Malleus said:

“Regardless of your reasons, you will not have your way. I shall stop you for all the fallen in this city... For the wonderful person you kidnapped... For the people awaiting us at school... For Briar Valley... And for myself. You see, I harbor a particularly potent animus toward you. A feeling aggravated by the disrespectful actions you had towards who is dearest to me. I shall eradicate the firelotuses and put all to rights. With the Bell of Solace itself!”

They lose the first fight against Rollo. And it's after that that Idia reveals what they read in Rollo's diary that they found in the fireplace. About his brother. About him not being able to do anything to save him... And you hear Idia going down a not so empathetic path, to which you would react with a facepalm if your hands weren't tied.

You hear Rollo getting angry and starting to lose his composure, Azul attacking him with Deuce's signature spell, with whom he had made a deal, the astonished reaction when seeing that Rollo is still standing, and finally, you hear Rollo use his signature spell and the sound of flames bursting forth.

A new fight, even more violent, until the sound of the flames died away and...

“Rollo collapsed, and his flames went out...” Azul says. “That means Malleus won, right?”

“Dude, Malleus is out of breath.” Idia says “I can see why he wanted us clear. We could've easily been collateral damage.”

Rollo says he accepted his defeat, but only to try to attack Malleus one last time when he turned his back on him. He failed, and Malleus rang the Bell of Solace, making all the flowers wither.

“The firelotuses...” Rollo was sobbing. “My flowers, my salvation, they're all withering away... You VILLAINS. What have you done?!”

“More important than that.” Malleus approached, his figure towering over Rollo's on the ground. “What have YOU done to [Y/N]?”

“Why do you show yourself so worried? A being like you would never truly care for someone like them. Admit your true intentions! You want to see them suffer on the long term.”

You finally manage to get your feet close to the door. You hear the worried voices of Azul and Idia telling Malleus not to succumb to Rollo's provocations. And you knock on the door with your feet so they can hear you.

You hear hurried footsteps coming your way, see Malleus opening the door, and look down in horror.

“[Y/N]!” He quickly reaches down to free you, breaking the ropes with his own hands and untying the piece of cloth around your mouth. He would have preferred to use magic to ensure he didn't hurt you, but he was relatively weak in that regard. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You say you're fine, but that doesn't stop Malleus from picking you up in his arms.

“Is [Y/N] hurt?!” Azul asked, worried.

“They say they're fine. But just in case.”

“Something tells me that Malleus just really wanted to live the scene of the hero who picks up the princess in their arms after saving her from the clutches of the villain who kidnapped her.” Idia comments, just between him and Azul. “Hey, no judgments. This is what I call sense of opportunity.”

Rollo was furious, but he would never admit how jealous he was. Not even to himself.

You watched the shows that your NRC colleagues prepared. The music was beautiful and they sang so well! Especially Malleus. After that, you all talked for a bit in a group before Malleus disappeared. Only for you to see him dance with Rollo. Seriously? All that and he's still going to dance with Rollo before he dances with you?!

You dance with the others, until Malleus appears to bow to you and invite you to dance with him. However, to his surprise, you look sullen.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks you. “Did I do something that displeased you?”

You answer yes, that after everything, the first person he danced with was Rollo. He chuckles, and you get even more sulky.

“Forgive me, but I could not resist provoking Flamme one last time. That, and warn him never to even come near you again.” He says with a smile, which makes it a little scary. “I jest. Well, partially. I did threaten him if he did anything to you again.” He pauses to see if you would cheer up a bit, but you still didn't seem completely satisfied. He smirks. “I must admit, a little jealousy can actually be charming and cute.”

Other people wanted to dance with Malleus, but he asked them all to, please, wait a little longer.

“You are creating a quite long waiting line you know? I will not dance with anyone else until I have my desired dance with my beloved.” He smiles smugly when he sees your reaction.

You give him your hand, he kisses the back of it and brings your body closer to his, placing his other hand on your waist. And you dance together.

“Please be careful.” He says as you dance. You look down at your feet, confused. “Fufu. No my dear, I wasn't referring to your dancing.” The sweet smile becomes more serious. “I was referring to Rollo Flamme. I have reason to believe that, after just one day, he has already recognized your charm. He does not convince me that he did that to you just because he believed he was saving you. But worse than that...”

His expression turns sad and you feel his hand pull you closer.

“He still have hatred towards me and wants to get read of all the mages. Under different circumstances, I would not fear his attacks. I would even invite him to try. But with you... If he realizes how much you mean to me... Despite what happened, I don't believe he has that kind of character, but if he reaches a state of despair where his hatred for me is stronger than the attachment he might feel for you...”

There’s a pause. His expression becomes more peaceful.

“I learned an expression that the citizens here have. Heaven's Light. We don't know what this place called heaven is for sure, but according to some records from the past, it would have been such a wonderful place that it was not even located on land. It was somewhere above the clouds. I believe even the stories of the Lord of the Underworld spoke of a similar place. They say that the name ‘Heaven's Light’ was given by the Kindly Bell Ringer to the woman he fell in love with, for being such a caring and kind person to him.”

He caresses your cheek with one of his hands.

“I understand him perfectly. From the story I was told, I can only believe that I too was blessed with my own Heaven's Light. And just like the Kindly Bell Ringer, I will do whatever it takes to protect it.”

You didn't even realize that Malleus has led you to a more secluded place. Only when you saw that the two were hidden by the shadows and a pillar and he began to bring his face closer to yours. “My Heaven's Light.” He whispers before kissing you.

After your dance with Malleus, he went to dance with the other people who also wanted such an honor and you went to dance with some of your other colleagues.

You were finishing dancing with Sebek when Rollo approached you. Both you and he startled when Sebek quickly placed himself between the two of you.

“What are your intentions?” Sebek inquired with hostility.

“My intentions are not vile.” Rollo replies, hiding his displeasure at the way Sebek is talking to him with his composure. “I would only like to be able to invite [Y/N] to dance.”

“I cannot allow it! My orders are to keep this human safe and away from you.”

Rollo takes his handkerchief to his face, holding back the urge to respond to his audacity and insulting words. However, you tell Sebek that it's okay and that you would like to accept Rollo's invitation. Both he and Sebek are surprised.

“B-but...” He had those sad puppy eyes, eager to fulfil his duty. “My liege told me... he entrusted me to protect you.”

And you say he can still do it. He can watch you while you dance with Rollo. And if something really happens, he can intervene.

“But what if it's too late?”

You say that Rollo wouldn't do anything like that in front of all those people. And that Sebek could tell Malleus that it was your fault for telling him not to stop you.

“But... *sigh* Why are you humans so stubborn? Fine. But I won't take my eyes off you. Even if I have to stop myself from blinking!... Be careful.”

Rollo extends his hand to you and you place yours in his to accept his invitation to dance. He guides you very gently.

“I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you.” He tells you while dancing with you. “I never meant to be rude to you. And regardless of what the students of Night Raven College tell you, at no point did I intend to harm you.” Your expression shows your suspicion. “I don't intend to apologize for doing what I concluded was the best way to save you at the time. I only apologize for the... atrocious way in which I did it. I shouldn't have forced you to come with me. But I feared what those spiteful mages might do to you in a moment of desperation.”

“They wouldn't hurt me!” You say, with certainty in your voice.

“How could you be so sure of that?”

“Because, unlike you, I know them.”

He looks you intently in the eyes, and sighs. The music comes to an end, as does your dance. You bow to each other.

“I find it pitiful seeing someone magic-devoid like you stuck in that villains' lair.” He tells you when you both straighten up. “I am inclined to make my utmost efforts to have you reside in Nobel Bell College instead, however I've already come to the sorrowful realization that it is your heart that keeps you hostage in that island. But before we part, I insist that you know that if you ever find yourself overwhelmed by those circumstances that involve magic, do let me know.” He gives you that subtle smile of his. “I will be glad to provide you with my support and assistance at any moment.”

You give him a smile back, accepting his offer.

“But, just to guarantee that you don't forget my heartfelt offering...” He reaches into his pocket, takes out his handkerchief and extends it to you. “Here it is said that handkerchiefs are powerful guardians of the memories of a loved one. It is common to offer them when we don't want to be forgotten by someone. Despite my mistakes, I would still like you to have the most pleasant memory of me possible." You accept his gift. "I confess that my biggest wish at the moment was to have one of yours too.” Without his handkerchief, he covers his mouth with his hand. “But that is just a mere whim of mine.” He takes his hand away from his face and smiles again “Not even in my wildest dreams did I think I would have so much pleasure in meeting someone from Night Raven College.” He gives you one last bow. “May the Bell of Solace allow our paths to cross again.”

He turned to walk away, but you wanted to do one last thing. You had also bought a handkerchief just like his when you were doing your tour of the city, and you wouldn't need two. You ask him to wait and he turns back to you.

“It doesn't have to be a mere whim.” You say, handing him the handkerchief you had kept with you. Perhaps the sign of a second chance.

He receives your handkerchief and looked at it with his natural smile, but his eyes were different, they had a small, almost imperceptible sparkle.

“I will keep it as one of my most cherished possessions. Thank you, [Y/N].”

“Should I assume this was some sort of revenge?” You hear Malleus's voice say suddenly as you step away from the dancing crowd.

You didn't know he was there, and so close. You look at him and he's smiling wryly.

“I didn't give him any gifts, though. Should I have bought a souvenir too? Perhaps make a bouquet of those crimson flowers he is so fond of.”

“It seems you were right, Tsunotarou.” You say with a sly smile. “A little jealousy can actually be charming and cute.”

Malleus makes that cute pout.

“I told you to be careful.” He says, not as a scolding, but as a concerned request.

You tell him that nothing bad happened, that Rollo wanted to apologize for what he did to you and for him not to blame Sebek because you were the one who accepted Rollo's invitation.

“Don't worry, I know Sebek is a loyal guard. And that you are the one with a kind heart. I told Sebek that I believed him when he told me that it was of your own free will that you were dancing with Flamme. It is in your character to give others the opportunity to explain and apologize. I know this well because it's one of the things I love most about you.” His pout comes back. “However...” He smiles smugly. “I would be more reassured if you spend the rest of the ball close to me. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what, exactly?” You ask.

“Just in case someone else becomes so captivated by you that they want to lock you up in a tower. Which reminds me that in some tales the kidnapper arrange a dragoon to guard the kidnapped.” His smile becomes even more smug and slightly threatening. “Fu fu fu. I would like to see them trying.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Twst x Reader #Twst Imagines #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Rollo Flamme #Rollo Flamme x Reader #Glorious Masquerade #Twst Glorious Masquerade #Twisted Wonderland Glorious Masquerade #Twst Halloween

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cherrygirlfriend · 5 days ago

Text

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or being under the stars with him.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ posting this one hour early because i need to sleep !!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

the ache in your head caused by the one too many drinks you'd had the night before was so strong you were sure even half a bottle of aspirin wouldn't be enough to help, but what was worse, was the case of hangxiety looming over you as the night's events came back to you.

you hid your head in your hands; you couldn't believe you'd ranted to some random guy about your issues, your anxieties. even worse, you'd probably annoyed the hell out of MalachiConstant with your drunken messages. you grabbed your pillow and pressed it to your face in it, screaming into the soft fabric.

meanwhile, rafe had spent most of the night rolling in bed. he stared down at his phone screen, before running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh. no matter how much time he'd spent thinking about you, about how he could finally put a face to the girl he'd spent weeks talking to. he didn't know what he was supposed to do next.

fuck.

the whole point of your… thing was to be anonymous. he had no idea how you'd react if you knew who rafe was. he wasn't an idiot, he knew the kind of reputation he had around the college. he knew what people thought about him. entitled, rich fuckboy.

you were the first person who hadn't judged him, the first person who saw rafe as he was. but if you found out who he really was… he doesn't think you'd see him the way youb

he let himself crash back into bed. rafe took one more glance at his phone, before turning it off and staring up at the wooden ceiling; the boy needed to figure out what to do.

is he going to keep it a tell you that he knows who you are and risk you never talking to him again, or is he going to keep hiding it just to hold onto you a little bit longer? it was too early and rafe was too damn hungover to think about these kinds of things.

his slippers made a soft, rhythmic noise against the hardwood floors as he lazily made his way down into the kitchen. rafe pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed an energy drink, the tab letting out a hiss as he opened it and took a large chug.

"hungover much?"

rafe's eyes widened when he heard the voice coming behind him, turning around to see a familiar pink-haired girl standing there, an oversized shirt on her frame he immediately recognized as belonging to topper. "not really." he shrugged, "you guys fuckin' again?"

"you make it sound so crude." vivian rolled her eyes yet grinned as she made her way to the coffee maker, "it's just a bit of drunken fooling out. nothing huge. i am surprised about one thing, though."

"and what's that?"

"that in the few days we've been here i haven't seen any half-naked girls leaving your room." vivian narrowed her eyes as she poured coffee into a cup, "do you have a secret girlfriend or something?"

"no." rafe snorted, "i can go a few days without sleeping with someone. i'm not that big of a fuckboy."

"uh, yeah you are." vivian said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "every time i've slept over in topper's room, the next morning i'd see at least one girl come out of your room and do the walk of shame. so, what gives? you have a crush or something?"

rafe snorted as if the girl had said something absurd, taking another chug out of the can, "i'm not talking to you about crushes." "so you admit that you have a crush." vivian grinned. "not admitting shit." rafe grumbled, before clearing his throat, "you seen your friend?"

"emilia's probably—" "not emilia." rafe interrupted the girl before she could finish her sentence, making vivian narrow her eyes in suspicion, "why are you curious about her?"

rafe shrugged his shoulders, slightly defensively, "just askin'." "i thought you were into emilia." "i never said that." vivian crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side, "if you try to play one of my friends, especially my best friend, i will feed little rafe to pigs before you have enough time to beg for forgiveness." vivian's threat only made rafe roll his eyes, but the girl continued, "i'm not kidding. she's a fragile person, and i'm not gonna allow someone who thinks with their dick take advantage of her and ghost her once he gets laid."

"jesus, do you really think that little of me?"

"i know guys like you. hell, i am a guy like you, rafe." vivian took a tentative sip of her coffee, "i refuse to watch her get hurt. so if i were you, i'd seriously think about what i do."

you didn't receive a single message from MalachiConstant for the rest of the break. it was now the night before you were bound to go back to school, your hair flowing in the cool night wind as you leaned on the balcony railing, looking up at the few dim stars up on the sky.

you felt so stupid for being emotional over a random guy online ignoring you; for allowing him to have such an impact. you sighed, about to push yourself away from the railing, before you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

when you turned your head, you saw rafe standing at the doorway, "oh. it's you." you mumbled quietly, before facing forward again. the boy let out a snort of laughter, and you could hear him approach you, "don't sound so disappointed."

"sorry." you said with a tight-lipped smile, drawing patterns on the wooden railing with the tip of your finger, "i just have a lot on my mind." "yeah? like what?" "you wouldn't get it."

"won't know until you try." rafe said, making you roll your eyes, "i don't know. it's stupid." you shrugged. "there was someone i was starting to like, but suddenly he just cut me off out of nowhere."

"oh." rafe took a moment. he'd needed time to think about things, needed time to decide what to do next. he hadn't even considered that his absence could affect you.

"i bet that's never happened to you." you said with a quiet, slightly self-conscious laugh, "i bet you've done that to people." rafe looked down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. you weren't wrong, and he couldn't help the slight pang of guilt in his chest at the thought. "but, uh, that happened to me. and i've never been great with people, so finally connecting with someone and then have this happen feels like crap."

"maybe… maybe he's just been busy." rafe scratched the back of his neck, his words making you let out a humorless huff of laughter, "i love the optimism. unfortunately i'm more of a hopeless realist. but i'll be okay. at least i can focus more on studying."

"come on. give the poor guy a break. i happen to be an expert on how the male brain works and sometimes, we can be a little dumb." "only sometimes?" you asked with raised brows, making rafe shake his head and smile. "most of the time."

you straightened up and look up at the half-crescent moon and the stars on the sky, "is it bad that i'm excited to go back to college?" "you seem the type to be." rafe said quietly, making you snort, "way to kick a girl while she's down." you nudged his side. "what? i feel like half the time i've seen you, your head's been buried in a book."

"you been watching me?" you raise your brows inquiringly, only for him to give you a small, slightly flirtatious smile, leaning into you. "what if i have?" you shake your head even as warmth slowly creeps up your neck.

you let out a small sigh, tracing the constellations above, tracing them with your finger, "god, i love the stars." "i know." the boy's statement made you furrow your brows, only for him to let out a soft chuckle, "you told me that the night we first met. and you did that whole finger thing."

rafe's hand moved to take hold of the back of your hand, the feel of his warm hand holding onto your cold one causing a shiver to run down your chest spine, your breath momentarily knocked out of you. he was looking up at the sky, but you couldn't help but stare at him.

but when he finally looked at you, there was a smile on his lips, "the night we met, your eyes were pretty much twinkling with stars." as you listened to his words, you couldn't help but glance down at his lips before looking back up into his icy blue eyes. your heart was pounding against your chest so hard you could've sworn it might burst out, "i need to tell-"

"goodnight, rafe." you say abruptly, pulling away from him unable to resist the need to put some distance between you and him, rafe's lips twisting into a slight frown before the boy cleared his throat, "goodnight, shooting star."

you rushed back into the room you shared with emilia and vivian; the former already asleep and the latter gone from her bed, as expected. you laid down on your own bed, placing your hand on your chest to hopefully calm your racing heart, only for your phone to let out a ping!

when you opened your phone, your eyes widened slightly in surprise.

MalachiConstant: sorry i haven't been texting MalachiConstant: i'm thinking about you tho MalachiConstant: and i miss you

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