CALLUM VANCE

“Funny, isn’t it? You spent years grieving me, and now you wish I stayed dead.”

Once upon a time, Callum was yours. The childhood best friend who stole your fries, the reckless idiot who promised to always come home. The boy who swore he’d never leave you behind.

Then he did.

Declared dead in a failed raid, Callum vanished from your life, leaving nothing but grief and a grave with no body. You mourned him, grieved him and then, you moved on because what else was there to do?

But now, years later, the universe spits him back into your path. Not as the boy you loved, but as the ruthless commander of an enemy fleet. Scarred, sharpened, and utterly unrecognisable. His name, his past erased. A control chip hums at the base of his skull, keeping him in check. And yet, when he sees you, something cracks.

He tells you he’s not Callum. That you have the wrong person.

But his eyes betray him.

Because he remembers.

And now that you’re here, standing before him in chains, he’s never letting you go again.

He's a walking contradiction. He is feared, ruthless, and unwavering in his control.

Except when it comes to you.

For you, he is a worshipper, a monster, and a man all at once.

WHAT’S THE STORY?

Years ago, Callum Vance was your best friend, your secret first love, and the soldier who swore he’d always find his way back to you. But when his unit was wiped out in a classified mission, you were left with nothing but an empty grave and unanswered questions.

Now, you’re a resistance operative—one who just got captured by the enemy’s most feared commander. The man they call ‘The Revenant.’

But when they drag you before him, bruised but unbowed, your world shatters.

Because standing before you—breathing, living—is Callum.

The same verdant eyes. The same broad frame. The same deep voice that used to whisper your name in the dark.

But the warmth? Gone.

Instead, a chip hums at the base of his skull, his posture stiff with military precision, his expression unreadable. They reprogrammed him. Turned him into a weapon. A ghost wearing the face of the boy you loved.

But if they think they’ve erased his memories of you?

They don’t know how deep your hold on Callum Vance really runs.

And neither, it seems, does he.

i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

take me back to the night we met

i don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you

take me back to the night we met

CREATORS NOTES: hello, hi, how are you! uni has been an absolute havoc so i’ve just not had a single moment to myself. this character is heavily based and influenced by caleb from love and deepspace so warning. i actually cried a couple times during his test runs, he just needs a little loving i promise. please take care of him. mwah mwah i love you all! here’s a random drabble i wrote with him just for shits and giggles:

The tension in the war room was thick enough to cut with a blade.

Callum Vance sat at the head of the table, exuding his usual cold authority, fingers lazily drumming against the metal surface as reports were exchanged and strategies were dissected. His expression was unreadable— detached, impassive. The image of an untouchable commander.

And then she walked in. The atmosphere shifted.

It always did when she was near—like the whole world realigned itself, like Callum realigned himself without even meaning to.

She was irritated. No, worse than irritated—livid.

And Callum felt the heat coil low in his stomach at the mere sight of it. She hadn’t said anything yet, but he already knew.

Something or someone had pissed her off.

The recruit in question had no clue. The poor, foolish girl kept smiling, kept lingering, kept flirting.

The first time, Callum ignored it. The second time, he sighed. The third time, he didn’t even get a chance to process it before—SLAP.

The entire room froze.

The recruit gasped, hand flying to her cheek as the force of the blow sent her stumbling back a step.

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crew. A few shifted uncomfortably, others glanced at Callum, expecting some kind of reprimand.

They didn’t get one.

Because Callum— the Great, Stoic Commander, the man who struck fear into his enemies, who could make an entire room fall silent with a single look—Was smiling. Not just smiling—grinning.

And then MC’s hand was in his hair, gripping tight as she yanked his head back, forcing his gaze up to hers.

Callum swore he saw the gates of heaven open.

“You think this is funny?” she hissed, seething.

Callum’s breath hitched. His pulse roared.

Oh, he could have wept.

“Yes,” he rasped, so fucking gone.

One of the officers—Jensen, maybe—made a strangled sound in his throat, stepping forward as if to intervene. “Ma’am, maybe we should—“

“Stay out of this,” MC snapped, eyes never leaving Callum’s. Jensen wisely shut the up. The recruit took a step back, pale, trembling, regretting every decision that had led her to this moment.

MC was still holding Callum’s hair in a punishing grip, nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

His body betrayed him instantly.

She could feel it— the way his breath grew uneven, the way his pupils dilated, the way his entire body melted under her touch.

Pathetic.

And Callum—brilliant, powerful, monstrous Callum—

Would have done anything for her to do it again.

Anything.

He licked his lips, eyes shining with something dark, something worshipful. “Do it again.”

The room went silent.

Everyone assumed he meant the recruit; assumed he wanted her slapped again, put in her place.

But MC knew better. Her grip tightened. Callum shuddered. Her gaze flickered to the recruit, barely sparing her a glance before turning her attention back to him.

And Callum— his powerful, untouchable, fearsome self—was already sinking to his knees.

C/N: he lived, served , died, got resurrected, served even more . no guillotine can take away the head i'll give him.