he follows you around while you’re trying to do chores, hugs you flush against his body when it’s hot as hell outside, and never sits more than a hair’s width apart from you.
it’s strange, of course, but bearable. a little endearing, even.
until he gets more comfortable.
he tails you in the kitchen while you’re prepping ingredients, resulting in more than a few spills. he peeks over your shoulder while you’re playing games on your phone, and you wonder how many accidental head bumps it’ll take to get a concussion.
with each new transgression, you feel your patience waning away.
it’s not entirely his fault. whenever he tells you stories about his pack, roughhousing and cuddling and chatting all the time, you can tell how close-knit they are—how boundaries are an option to them, not an obligation.
but when he barges into the bathroom one day, blabbing about jewelry while you’re squatting mid-stream, you've finally had enough.
“hey, can you look at this bracelet i made? it’s pretty enough, i guess, but i feel like something’s missi—”
“out!” you screech. “out, out, out!”
──────
he sits on the floor. you sit on the couch.
“we need to set some ground rules.”
his ears lie flat on his head.
“you get really close to me sometimes.”
his brows furrow. “‘cause i like you.”
“i like you too. but i can get sensitive with things like this. i need more personal space than you do, remember?”
“you want me to stay away from you?” his voice is hoarse, and his tail swishes in distress.
unable to resist, you ruffle his red hair. “i didn’t say that, now did i? most times, i love how clingy you are.” his ears perk up. “i love how open you are with your affection. i’m only asking…maybe you could be more selective about when you give it? like, it’s probably not the best time if i’m having a bad day, or feeling overstimulated, or, i don’t know, in the bathroom, for example.” you cock your head and look down at him with a smile. “yeah?”
“yeah.” he nods to himself. “i can do that.”
“thank you.”
hope shines in his amber eyes. “are we okay now?”
you lean forward and tap the underside of his chin. “we’ve always been okay, you goof.”
valko’s lips curl into his trademark grin. “then…permission to hug?”
warmth flows through you as you laugh and spread your arms. “permission granted.”
important reminder that most people you follow online are significantly lamer than you think they are including me. and if you feel insecure comparing yourself to someone online: DON'T. theyre probably also lame and weird. most people on the internet are
No because what the actual fuck was that decision?
You mean to tell me months—if not YEARS—of development.
…and your solution was to throw the ENTIRE SIXTH LOVE INTEREST into the trash?
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
I'm not saying people shouldn't have been angry about the 731 reference. They absolutely had every right to be. Unit 731 is one of the darkest chapters in history and if that reference was made carelessly, then yes, people deserved an apology and an explanation.
But explain to me how Valko became the sacrificial lamb here.
Who exactly does this help?
The people who were hurt by the reference? They still deserve accountability.
The people who were excited for Valko? Congratulations, you just told them to go fuck themselves.
The developers who spent who knows how long creating an entirely new LI? Their work gets deleted overnight.
So what was the goal here?
Because this doesn't feel like taking responsibility. It feels like corporate damage control.
Fix the story.
Rewrite the chapter.
Delete the offending reference.
Delay the release.
Fire whoever thought using 731 and 611 was acceptable if you have to.
But deleting an ENTIRE CHARACTER because of a mistake in ONE PART OF THE GAME is such an absurd overreaction that I genuinely can't wrap my head around it.
I'm just so unbelievably disappointed. because Infold's response was somehow even worse than the original mistake.
We lost a character.
The developers lost their work.
The fandom lost something people had been excited about.
What an absolute fucking waste.
Valko, big bad wolf chairman extraordinaire, is currently hiding behind the couch like a complete idiot.
“Babe,” he whispers, ears flat against his head. “Tell me he’s gone.”
You’re trying so hard not to laugh. On the coffee table sits a completely normal, very tiny house spider that had the audacity to exist in the same room as your 6’2” wolf boyfriend.
“He’s still there, babe.”
Valko lets out the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard, tail tucked between his legs. “I fought three massive wanderers today. Three. Why is this tiny asshole scarier than them?”
You finally lose it, laugh bursting out. “You can bench press me with one arm but a spider the size of a coin has you hiding? Really?”
“I don’t like surprises with too many legs, okay?!” he hisses, peeking over the couch with wide eyes. The second the spider moves an inch he ducks back down like it’s about to launch an attack against him.
You wipe tears from your eyes, walk over, and gently escort the tiny spider outside with a piece of paper while your big strong boyfriend watches from behind the couch like a traumatised puppy.
When you come back he immediately scoops you up, burying his face in your neck with a dramatic sigh of relief.
“My hero,” he mumbles, tail finally starting to wag again. “Never tell anyone about this.”
Warnings: non-mc!reader, hurt no comfort A/N: Idk how to write Caleb without angst heheh… I had ‘istillfeelthesame’ and ‘Start Over’ by 5SOS on repeat as I wrote this <33 Sometimes you want shit to work out but it doesn’t bc life is simply that way. AKA fic about how Caleb fucks up but it’s also kinda nuanced but shit doesn’t get worked out anyway bc #life
There hasn’t been a moment of peace since Caleb had arrived at your apartment. Though you both are physically at the same place, you both are worlds apart - this is a truth you’ve been denying for months. You’re finally realising that the truth has a way of catching up to you, one way or another.
He’s dressed in formal wear, the top two buttons of his dress shirt had already been left unbuttoned 40 minutes ago when he arrived in a frenzy. You’re dressed in contrast with your silk pyjamas, an outfit donned already for hours since you had thought it’d be a night in with Caleb. The night in was meant to be an opportunity to catch up with your lover after three long weeks apart, with even lesser meaningful texts and calls in between. The night in was intentional, you had tried to make the plan to be as easy and convenient as possible so that neither of you would have to worry about the logistics and preparations of a proper date outside.
Yet, you were the only one dressed for the occasion. Hell, if you had known that the night was gonna be spent fighting, perhaps you’d wear something even more appealing. Maybe the low-cut tank that Caleb loved on you, perhaps then, and only then, his attention would solely be on you.
But you stood there in your pyjamas and house slippers, the only colour on your face is the red on your nose as you fought the lump in your throat fiercely. Caleb wasn’t being mean, in fact, his voice was controlled and still ever-gentle. Yet ironically, he was still being mean.
He’d been mean the moment he came in with his tie half done, instead of his grey sweatpants and tank that he’d usually wear when he was going to stay the night. This smart attire he had on when he came in two hours later than he had promised — one that you usually would tear off anyway because it always fit him just right — was warning that there was nothing easy to happen tonight.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I know, baby, I kno—“ Caleb tries apologising for the nth time, pleading and guilt evident in his voice as his hands try reaching out to you again. You’re trying your best to not let your voice break as you cut him off, because you’re angry and you want that loud and clear, more so than you want him to know that he’s hurt you again. Feeling sad and hurt oddly also feels synonymous to feeling pathetic, and as someone who tries to mimic as iron clad grip on whatever’s left of her dignity, you play a facade of angry.
“It’s one night, Caleb! One night out of practically a month since I last saw you! And you couldn’t even spare me that.” You tried your very best, but your strongest efforts couldn’t even stop the break in your voice. “She calls you and immediately that’s the most urgent thing in the world for you.”
You get the gist of the story (his excuse) — the childhood best friend turned wondrous hunter of his had a favour to ask of him and his Colonel privileges. Hence, instead of clocking out when he was supposed to, he’d left work hours later to help whatever he could. As a result, he’d shown up to your place late and grossly overdressed.
You almost feel silly now, alike to a broken recorder. Because as he opens his mouth again, without a doubt trying to find a bridge between asking for your forgiveness and getting you to understand why exactly he had to do it, you feel the urge to ask him for the nth time: Why is she more important to you than I am?
Which you know, anyway, that he’ll deny. You won’t and don’t buy it.
It’s a cycle that you have tried to cut both yourself and Caleb from but the past months have proven to no avail. You feel the sadness and hurt bubbling up even further as the questions beg to escape from your mouth.
But beyond, sad, pathetic, hurt and anger? You feel exhausted.
His pleading voice, his guilt ridden eyes that are trying to meet yours, his desperate hands cupping your jaw, they all slowly quieten down to boil down to a single phrase in your head: I’m done.
The words that leave you next are not exactly the same, and they might even be worse. With a shake of your head, you take a step back, hands pushing Caleb away ever so gently, “We’re done.”
“W-What? Baby, no, what do you mean? We’re not, c’mon. Baby, let’s talk about this.” Caleb is spiralling, because yes, while this is a familiar dance you’ve both shared many times before, the waltz always ends in love-sick kisses and “never again” whispered in between your thighs. Never, this.
Truth is, Caleb is in love with you. That has never been a doubt he ever had. If it ever came down to it, he’d lay himself bare to and for you. Unfortunately, he is a man of many complexities. While he knows confidently that he is not in love with MC, he is thoroughly bonded to her in a way he wishes he isn’t. The two grew up together and survived many traumatic experiences together, and while he can try his best to explain this to you, until you’ve been caged in the laboratory like he and MC were, you’d simply not get it. He understands how it looks sometimes, and wishes desperately things were different but he’s also long dreadfully accepted his fate that he’d made a home on the bad luck of things.
Being in a relationship with you had always felt to be too good to be true. Caleb had always felt like an impending doom was due to come. You were too good, too beautiful, absolutely everything he had wished and cried for. It’d only be so long until this explodes into a doom, too. If only he’d realise sooner it was by his own hands.
He shakes his head, lips trembling as desperate hands try to reach out to you again. “We can work this out, I promise. Baby, please. I’m sorry — I.. I can change, please. You love me, right?”
“Of course I love you, Caleb. I am so in love with you, that’s the reason this hurts so much.”
You can no longer hold back the tears. “I love you so much as a person, Caleb. But I don’t like who you are as a partner.” Caleb swears he feels his heart drop into his stomach, and his jaw mirrors the emotion, his mouth agape as he listens to you. He realises he’s ran out of words. Respectable and admired as the colonel, dependable as a friend, unlikeable as a partner.
“I don’t like how this relationship makes me feel anymore. I feel insecure, and anxious. When you take hours to reply, I’m imagining you fucking and falling in love with her.” You almost choke on your words, the same words you feel so ashamed by. “And I’m not usually someone who feels that way. But your absence in this relationship, your presence in her life, it hurts me.” With a deep breath, as if to make it count, you say, “You make me feel so sad.”
Caleb feels like he doesn’t deserve to live. You’re slipping from his fingers and he knows that he’s the only one to blame. He thought he’d been able to juggle all the different roles in his life, but now realising that he simply cannot. For he is Caleb, and his life has been forged into misery. Who is there to blame, anyway? MC? EVER?
Caleb tries very hard to figure it out, but all roads simply lead back to himself.
The two of you stay silent for a very long moment, the only sounds the both of you hear are the sniffles and the sound of Caleb attempting to speak, but closing his mouth soon after.
At this point, both of you know there is nothing else to say. Tonight becomes the night you both discover the depth of your love for you. It looks very different for each of you, though.
You mistake Caleb’s silence for giving up. He’s not defeated - his limbs are begging him to crawl to you and beg. His heart begs his mind to cut ties with MC even, if that meant you would stay. Dedicate the rest of his life to you.
But, he’s well aware that his hands are tied and neither are things he can do without someone else getting hurt. He feels alike to a monster carelessly wielding a knife, no matter what he does, someone gets hurt.
If walking away tonight means that the knife stops pointing in your direction, he’ll gladly do so. So, he stays silent. Doesn’t fight for you because he believes he cannot give what you deserve, but doesn’t say anything in agreement either because he physically cannot bring himself to say it. If he opens his mouth, it’d only be the bile at the back of his throat that has already crept up from the hurt in his chest.
So, you break the silence.
“Leave your keys to my apartment on the table, please. Goodnight, Caleb.”
Fields of Mistria launches into 1.0 on August 5, 2026! ✨
The full release includes:
💍 Marriage
🍼 Children
🌻 New Saturday Market NPCs
✨ And more!
More reveals are on the way, so stay tuned! 🌱
See the 1.0 Roadmap here!
