#these are like completely and totally official

[prime-adeptus]

Of Ghosts and Smoke Signals

Who was he before he became the Colonel? What was the death and resurrection he dreamt of so often? The voice he heard in flashbacks—was it yours? (Or: the one where two lost souls find each other again.)

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀NSFW | female reader | (referenced) spoilers for Caleb’s route and card stories + Winter Soldier AU | slight yandere Caleb | amnesia, assassins, blood and violence, brainwashing, childhood friends, character death (not Caleb anymore), corruption, grief, hidden cameras, mentions of torture, reunions, romance, stalking (it's his job!!!). angst with a happy ending. | smut tags: cunnilingus, emotional sex, implied loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex | ~7,5k words

A/N.⠀hey guys so since I'm already being cooked, boiled, braised, fried, steamed, grilled, and everything in between, I thought why not just succumb to the brainrot. I have been in a stupefied gegepilled state for the past week so here u go. product of my brain doing its thing.

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Though there was much that the Colonel couldn’t remember, there was one constant: he always had the same dream.

It would be as if he was seeing the world in somebody else’s eyes. He’d see fire and total destruction, debris scattered all over what used to be his home. He’d feel phantom pains in his limbs and cough and choke from the smoke in the air. The next time he came to, he’d be strapped to a table in a cold room with fluorescent lights. There would be masked people around him, all dressed in military uniforms as they oversaw his experimentation process. Then, he’d feel excruciating pain all over his body, electricity shocking through his entire system as the world went dark. There’d be a strange emptiness where his arm was meant to be.

After that, he’d hear a hiss as the doors to his cryo chambers opened, effectively waking him up for the mission that day. His quarters were perhaps in the most secluded part of the Farspace Fleet’s base, away from any inquisitive eyes and potential dangers (though those wouldn’t be of any concern to him). The room was dark and freezing, but it was nothing he couldn’t withstand. He was superhuman. Serum after serum and tests after tests were done on him for as long as he could remember. As far as the Fleet was concerned, he was the prime of all men—strong, fearless, merciless, and on a level far beyond others.

Not once has he ever failed a mission. The Colonel completed every task flawlessly. He never left behind loose ends. He had no name, no memories, and no sentiments holding him back. He zeroed in on succeeding every mission, and he did. There was no reward for a soldier like him. He lived in a rigid routine—be awakened from cryostasis, do the mission, return to the cryo chamber, and it would start all over again. The disciplinarian lifestyle suited him, he thought. His main duty was to do the dirty work. He didn’t fraternise like his superiors did. He didn’t feel, and if he did, they’d shock him again, restarting his memory anew.

The wintry coldness surrounded his body as the chamber pushed him out of its confines, allowing him to step down and roll his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles. Frost clung to his metal arm and glinted in the light of the laboratory. A mechanic was performing a routine inspection on it, numerous tools at the ready beside him as one of the Farspace Fleet’s officials—Commander Rand—paced around the room slowly, seemingly deep in thought. The metal in her heels clicked against that of the flooring; the noise reverberated throughout the room, knocking against the ground in steady taps.

“Your mission this time is slightly different from what we usually make you do,” she said, stopping in front of him and holding out a folder. He took it gingerly. “We don’t need you to kill… yet. We just need you to deliver a warning.”

He peered at the photos within. From first glance, it was already clear that you were a civilian, and a harmless one at that. Though not one to question his orders, he didn’t understand how someone so mundane could have caught the Farspace Fleet’s attention. She said your name as he was reading it. Reflexively, blurred images and voices flashed in his mind, a sharp pain striking his head.

I’m not a little girl anymore, █████.

It wasn’t the first time these flashes happened. They came whenever he was conscious. He couldn’t tell if they were memories or just figments of his imagination—or of whatever humanity was left within him. The voice felt so familiar yet so far away, too out of reach, like it was light years beyond him.

I don’t need you to protect me.

The words haunted him whenever there was silence. It continued to haunt him even now as the older woman stood in front of him patiently, crossing her arms over her chest. Hiding his discomfort, he opted to ignore it for the time being and return his gaze to her.

She offered him a wry smile. “This poor little puppy has been sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“How so?” he finally spoke up. Civilians weren’t of interest to him. No one was, really. If it wasn’t combat information, then he didn’t care, but there was something about your photo that piqued his curiosity just the slightest. He chalked it up to him being meticulous. Anything to guarantee the success of the mission.

Sparks bounced off of his arm as buzzing filled in the brief silence. Commander Rand produced a cigarette from her breast pocket, placing it between her lips and smoothly lighting it up with a match. Her expression was pulled taut, shoulders stiff as she shifted her weight to one leg, standing more comfortably. He barely noticed the mechanic finishing up his work and hurrying out of the room, presumably afraid of their presence. She exhaled heavily.

“She’s caught wind of our… activities behind the scenes,” she explained with a pitched sigh, blowing smoke out the corner of her lips. “Not a journalist, not a private investigator, just a nosy little thing. Keeps looking into Bloomshore District. We have the media and police in our pockets, but, well… you know how I hate loose ends.”

“She’s a civilian,” he pointed out.

“You’ve done worse, Colonel. Don’t act all high and mighty now,” she retorted, tone dripping with mockery.

She was right. Any outspoken rebels were dealt with by the Colonel himself. In the same manner he had gone through before, these people were brought up to the laboratory where they sat in the electrical chair. Scientists worked tirelessly to hypnotise and medicate them, and by the time they were done, the subjects would not remember anything. As far as they were concerned, it was a nightmare, and the man overseeing these procedures didn’t exist.

He pursed his lips, suddenly irritated. “What do you need me to do?”

“Do whatever you want. Maybe take a direct approach,” she sighed, taking another drag of her cigarette. “Just let her know we’re watching.”

“And if she resists?”

“Bring her here. I’m leaving the interrogation and reprogramming in your hands.” She smiled again. The gesture was sardonic and forced. Something didn’t feel right. “Is that clear?”

It wasn’t anything outside of his capabilities. The Fleet used him as a multifunctional asset—assassin, bodyguard, spy, and everything in between. Doing their dirty work was nothing new. He flexed his metal fingers in front of him, curling it into a fist as he gave her a determined stare. He nodded grimly.

“Good. Better get started, Colonel.”

—

The Farspace Fleet had eyes and ears everywhere.

From mirrors in homes, corners of buildings on the streets to the most inconspicuous of things like trees and benches, cameras and microphones were in every nook and cranny of Skyhaven. No household was safe. They saw everything, they heard everything, and they knew everything. Vocal criticism of the Fleet was punishable by law. Any journalist who dared speak up would suddenly be out of work, and those who dared act on their thoughts would be thrown into a holding cell. It was how they kept the people of Skyhaven under their thumb.

This never seemed to be a concern for you at all.

You weren’t afraid to ask questions as soon as they came to mind. You weren’t afraid to venture into places the Fleet declared forbidden, either. Bloomshore District had been closed off since the explosion and was deemed an extremely polluted area unsafe for the people since last year. You still stopped by every now and then, silently musing in front of the remnants of homes. You had a particular fixation on the explosion despite the Fleet having ‘confirmed’ it to be an accident. Your searches dug deep, veering dangerously close to the truth, and your social media activity revealed everything you were interested in. He was starting to see why Commander Rand saw you as a potential threat.

The second thing he noticed was that you were constantly anxious.

You always returned home before the sun set. As soon as it got dark, your blinds would be closed, and your windows would be locked. You’d cover the small gap beneath the front door with fabric and compulsively check the lock until you were reassured enough. Though you lived in a relatively safe area close to the local university, it seemed that you were still wary of your neighbours, especially those who were male. You constantly looked behind you when you were walking, trying to detect a predator, and you always held your key between your fingers as a makeshift weapon.

The third thing he noticed was that you liked living by a routine. It wasn’t anything complicated. In the morning, you’d leave for work, and some time after four in the evening, you’d return home. After freshening up, you’d leave for the cemetery with a lunch box in hand. You’d sit in front of a headstone and eat; no words were spoken, only hushed whispers of the wind.

He had once gone ahead and took a look at the headstone himself, his innate curiosity awakened. “Here Lies Caleb, Loved In and After Death” was engraved into the surface. He didn’t recognise the name, but there was something about it that seemed to strike a nerve. His head throbbed as visions flashed before his eyes once more. He pictured a younger version of you beaming at him, braces on full display as your eyes crinkled into little curved moons. He pictured a hand coming up to affectionately ruffle your hair and the sound of chuckles in response to your pout. He wasn’t one to contemplate his past often—to him, all he needed to think about was the mission—but a nagging sense of familiarity tugged at his heart strings, causing him to falter.

‘Always,’ ‘by your side,’ and ‘promise.’ Those words echoed themselves in his brain in desperate whispers, begging for him to remember what they meant. He stared at the road ahead of him. Your silhouette was long gone, but your presence lingered with him, like a magnetic field drawing him close. Days of observing you led to more questions than answers. Not just questions about you, but questions about himself. Who was he before he became the Colonel? What was the death and resurrection he dreamt of so often? The voice he heard in flashbacks—was it yours?

Things he never considered became all that he thought about. He began to jot everything down in a small notebook in hopes that it would remind him of something, anything. He was no longer working emotionlessly; this time, there was a storm gathering in his mind, and he was feeling everything all at once. When he returned to his safehouse that day, the sight of you sitting in front of his (was it really his?) grave replayed before his eyes again and again. Though the fog was starting to clear little by little, the past was still obscured in uncertainty. This was only one small piece of the puzzle, and you were the key.

It was a rainy evening when he finally made his move. You weren’t home, having gone out to dinner with your coworkers. He picked the lock to your front door with ease and invited himself in, careful eyes scanning his surroundings. Trinkets and collectibles of things you enjoyed decorated the empty spaces on the shelves. Your shoes rested unevenly on their rack, some of them askew and some missing its other side. Post-it notes and magnets were scattered across the door of your fridge, and the counter had a basket of decorative apples placed on it. It brought forth a nostalgic feeling, one that reminded him of youth and family.

He continued on. The stairs creaked with each step he took up the stairs. The door to your bedroom was wide open, revealing your sanctuary to him. The bed was unmade. Pillows were messily thrown on top of each other and the blanket was hanging off the edge. Plush dolls of varying sizes lined up the side of your bed. Some of your clothes laid on the mattress, presumably the ones you decided you weren’t going to wear. He stepped inside carefully, gaze darting across the room before it landed on your desk.

There was an open notebook on it. The pages were full of scrawled handwriting. Some of them had nonsensical diagrams with only a few keywords connecting them to one another. Ever, F.F., body not recovered. He flipped through the pages, trying to make sense of what you’d written when a photograph fell out, slowly floating down before he caught it swiftly. It was a photo of him and you together. You were kissing his cheek and he wore a delightfully surprised expression on his face. A large bouquet of apple blossoms was in his hands, seemingly handmade. He hardly recognised the man in the image. It felt as though he was looking at someone else.

His head was starting to throb. Pushing on, he flipped the photograph over to find a note written on the back—no matter where you fly to, remember to come home to me! written in black marker and accented with heart-shaped stickers. Without thinking, he tucked it into his pocket as his mind spun with several theories and fragments of remembrance. Memories of your laughter drifted into his mind, accompanied by blurred images of your playful smile and your twinkling eyes. Images of childhood flashed before his eyes. He saw a garden of irises and white peonies, a rainbow in his field of sight. He saw a worn down attic, glass shards scattered all across the ground as someone held on tight to him.

He remembered holding a needle and thread in his hands, fixing up a beloved plush doll and putting it back together. He remembered the scent of jasmine and lemongrass, wafting past his nostrils and bringing forth thoughts of summer. He felt the comfort of a person’s presence and the pride of being relied on by someone. Knees giving out beneath him, he shakily took a seat on your bed and took in a deep breath in an attempt to ease his mind. Distress weighed heavy on his shoulders. The memories felt so real and so close, but they still didn’t feel like they belonged to him.

I’m scared… Will you stay with me?

I’ll protect you. I promise.

Electric shocks. The sound of a man’s pained screams. Ice-cold temperatures. Agonising pain on his shoulder. He wished there was an easier way to search for answers. In the back of his mind, he wondered just how much the Farspace Fleet had taken from him. He didn’t know what it was in exchange for. They gained a deadly and untouchable asset, but he gained nothing.

Thunder roared outside. It snapped the Colonel back to the present. Seeing the sky flash outside made dread settle at the pit of his stomach. There was a lot to consider, but he had to return the mission—it was his duty. Adjusting the mask on his face, he returned downstairs to wait for your return. The downpour was slowing down, transitioning into a lighter shower as time passed by. The Farspace Fleet uniform he donned was starting to feel suffocating, like they weren’t meant for him. Still, he composed himself and watched as the doorknob turned with the sound of keys jingling in the background. Flailing around blindly, it took a couple of tries before you were able to find the light switch, and the light smile you’d been wearing on your face immediately twisted into a look of fear.

“Who are you?” you breathed, fists clenching the strap of your bag tighter. “How did you get in my house?”

He stepped forward. “You’ve been lurking in places you shouldn’t be in.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows knit together in a mix of uncertainty and agitation. Your gaze travelled to his hat then his clothes before reality dawned on you. “You’re from the Farspace Fleet?”

Ignoring the lump forming in his throat, he handed you a folder. With trembling hands, you looked through them, eyes widening upon realising that they were records of your personal data. Chat logs, search histories and surveillance images stared back at you. You wanted to run away but you were rooted to your spot, completely frozen still. He made his move to leave, stopping just beside you.

“This is your final warning,” he said. His voice was quiet, hesitant. “Stop looking into Fleet matters.”

With that said, he walked out of your home and closed the door behind him. The rain drowned out the sound of your crying, but he heard everything.

—

You laid low for a few days after that.

The surveillance feed showed that you barely left your house at all. Instead of opening your curtains all the way through, you left but a small sliver for the sunlight to shine in. It was a reaction he saw often. You were far from the first citizen he had to warn. He’d done worse for those who did less. Commander Rand was unpredictable; however someone was going to be dealt with depended entirely on her mood that day. The Colonel was simply her soldier. He followed his orders. He always completed his missions.

He continued to keep an eye on you. At first, you held back. You hardly used your computer and ignored incoming calls, worried that one of them might be him. He had hours’ worth of footage of you blankly staring into whatever programme was playing on television. Isolation brought unwelcome company, allowing fear and doubt to enter the fray, and you were losing. With no visible sign that you were going to keep poking around, he was prepared to report to Commander Rand about his success.

But on the sixth night of self-isolation, you picked up right where you left off. You were back to spending hours on your laptop, sifting through your notes and tinkering with your evidence board. It was as if you had an epiphany, a burst of energy. You’d thrown yourself off the couch and ran to your room, digging through your drawers to find everything you hid away after his visit. The footage was grainy and unclear, impossible to zero in on the details of what you were doing.

No longer did you turn in early. Mugs of coffee kept you awake all night. You’d spend hours at your desk and get up, stretching your limbs before sitting back down. You’d talk to yourself, moving animatedly as you paced around the room. Frantic, sleepless, and on the verge of a discovery. You started returning to the explosion site as well. Surveillance caught you crouching before a burnt down house, digging through the rubble and capturing photos. You were more careful in your movements. You broke out of the self-imposed curfew and left when the streets were desolate. No stone was left unturned.

The longer he watched you, the more his thoughts circulated around you. There was a need to know everything about you clawing at his chest, pulling him down into dark waters. Before long, he was visiting the site in question himself. Fleeting images of a home appeared before his eyes. Muffled words rang in his ears. The dream he always had—the one where there was only fire and debris, only pain and hopelessness—was starting to feel like a true memory. It left him out of kilter. He found his thoughts wandering more frequently as he tried to make sense of the broken pieces in his head.

He was strong. He knew this, and yet, being more aware has never made him feel so helpless. He was a man grasping at straws. He was a traveller trying to find an oasis in endless desert sands. The rational part of him—the Colonel, not this broken man—reminded him to focus. That these memories were forgotten for a reason, and that he didn’t need them. He found himself stuck inside a paradox of wanting to know but fearing what he would see—fearing that he’d loathe it if he saw the truth. He didn’t know what he’d do after learning it, either. Being the renowned agent Colonel meant his life was in the Fleet’s possession. He wouldn’t be able to return to a normal life, not like the one he seemingly had with you. And if he showed any sign of remembering, they’d shock him with electricity again until every thought left his head.

If he was dead, then he was reborn as a captive to the Farspace Fleet. Insurmountable amounts of blood were on his hands. Hundreds of people had been beaten by him until they were nothing left but a mass of broken bones. Hundreds more had undergone the same therapy that he did, all under his orders. His title was spoken in hushed whispers by people afraid of encountering him and his mechanical ways.

The Colonel is watching. The Colonel sees everything. The Colonel is a cruel, lifeless puppet—

His life was theirs. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. There was only you, and even if he only knew bits and pieces of you, he was unknowingly latching on to you like you were his lifeline. You held the answers. You held the truth. And now that you were on the Commander’s radar, he was the only one who could save you—and free himself from this prison they trapped him in.

(I’ll always be by your side.)

His earpiece rang. “Colonel. Any updates?”

“Commander,” he greeted, taking a moment to think. The turmoil within gnawed at him, wrapping its ghastly hands around his throat, digging their claws into his skin and drawing blood. He still had to finish the mission. After a long pause, he finally spoke up again, throat closing up and heart pounding against his chest. “Bringing her to HQ now.”

—

You awakened to complete darkness.

The room was cold, sending goosebumps rising across your skin. You felt trapped and oddly stiff. Trying to stand up, you found that there were metal restraints holding your wrists and ankles back against the interrogation chair. The lights suddenly came on, not giving you any time to adjust your vision as two people came into view. One of them wore a mask that covered up to his eyes. You struggled against the binds, fruitlessly trying to break free as the woman stepped forward with a smirk.

“Look who’s awake,” she cooed. “Our little problem.”

“Where am I?” you blurted out. Your head was pounding and fatigued seeped deep down into your bones, slowing down whatever train of thought you could have. “You’re… Commander Rand. Am I…”

“Yes,” she chuckled. “You’re here at the Farspace Fleet’s base. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A little glimpse of how we do things behind the scenes?”

You let out a heavy exhale. “I haven’t told anyone about what I found.”

“It doesn’t matter, little girl.” Her tone turned sharp, the stability in her voice a façade to the rage brewing deep within her soul. “I was nice enough to have the Colonel warn you harmlessly. You just can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, can you?”

Fear shot into your heart. Apprehension stirred at the pit of your stomach, making your blood run cold as you struggled some more. She sighed in exaggeration, leaning her arms against her knees.

“You wanted to know the truth behind Bloomshore District?” She clapped, her lips curling into a sly smile. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Colonel, take off your mask.”

Hesitantly, he complied, and in that moment, your world stopped.

You couldn’t say a word. You stared into the eyes of the man you thought was dead. You saw the explosion yourself, felt the debris cut into your skin as your home burned down. You visited the abandoned area several times when you missed home. The necklace you wore was beginning to feel heavier, something akin to a ball and chain. You couldn’t believe your eyes. The ringing in your ears grew increasingly violent the longer you realised that this wasn’t a dream—this was all real, and you were right in the middle of it.

“Caleb?” you whispered in disbelief.

“The one and only!” Commander Rand declared. You could practically hear the smirk and mockery in her voice. “Even better, he can’t remember you. You’re nothing. Is that enough for closure, little girl?”

She laughed and laughed like she was watching a comedy show, clutching at her stomach and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Her laughter was loud and grating, demeaning, and it sparked a burning rage inside you.

“It doesn’t matter,” she continued with a happy sigh once she calmed down from her moment of sadistic joy. “You know, we’ve put him through a lot since that fateful day. But we saved his life. You ran away.”

“We brought him to life. Took away everything that made him weak and turned him into the perfect soldier. And you, little girl…” She leaned forward, the smile never dropping from her face. “You’re the final part of his test.”

She brandished a pistol and shoved it into Caleb’s hands, pushing him forward with a satisfied expression on her face.

“You know what to do, Colonel.”

Caleb watched you quietly. It felt like he was drifting further and further apart from you. You didn’t want to die, but your choices led you here—this was your fault, everything was, and you were going to pay the price for it. You looked up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you forced a smile, your voice quivering as you spoke.

“I’m glad I got to see you again.”

He cocked the gun. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the inevitable. You weren’t as religious as you used to be, but you still recited a prayer in your mind, hoping that the heavens would have mercy on you.

You heard the sound of a gunshot, but you felt nothing.

Tentatively opening your eyes, you found that Caleb had his back faced to you. Commander Rand was no longer speaking. There was a bullet wound in the middle of her forehead and she slouched over. The metal restraints unlocked, allowing you to free yourself. The sight of her corpse made you wince. You reflexively looked away, not wanting to see any more of the blood and gore.

He faced you again. “We don’t have much time.”

“What—”

He swiftly carried you in his arms and pushed the door open, briskly making his way down the hall. He peeked out of the corner, scanning if there were more personnel around. Once he was sure that the coast was clear, he continued to run before finally arriving at what appeared to be a fire exit staircase. He hurried down, the metal plating echoing within the walls as he did so. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fear coursing through your veins as he made his escape.

The moment he opened the door, clamour broke out. Gunshots rang and bullet shells fell to the ground with a loud clang. The staccato rhythm made the adrenaline rush worse, intensifying your anxiety until all you could hear was the ringing in your ears. Caleb deflected every bullet with his arm, keeping you shielded with his body. A gasp left him as a bullet grazed his cheek. The sting was of little concern to him. He needed to get you to safety.

He held you closer. The soldiers were approaching. Spotting a plane with its ramp down, he unceremoniously tossed you into the ship before rushing into the pilot’s seat, gearing up for take off. Bullets bounced off of the surface as the vehicle rolled down the runway at full speed. Some officers were forced to move out of the way. Some didn’t leave in time. He started its ascent, going higher and higher into the air. The ramp was slowly closing up, but you could still see blood and bodies on the rooftop.

Death wasn’t unfamiliar, but witnessing it was.

You stared at him in horror. You never knew he was capable of such violence. This wasn’t the Caleb you knew—this was a stranger taking on his form. Was this what he was doing for the past year? Taking lives without batting an eye and running from danger? You were stunned, speechless. Where were you supposed to begin?

Your stomach lurched when you glanced out the window as you pushed yourself back to your feet. Being several miles off the ground made your panic increase tenfold. You breathed heavily and sat down, gripping the edge of your seat. You barely made it out earlier. Caleb had been moving at an inhuman speed, effortlessly deflecting bullets while keeping you safe. Your protection at the cost of many lives. You didn’t know what to feel.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled, fully distraught. “You just ran over a bunch of people!”

“I had to get you to safety,” he replied easily.

“But—” You cut yourself off, throwing your hands in the air with a frustrated groan. You were glad to be safe, but what you saw earlier—that wasn’t right. Those were people with families, children, loved ones waiting at home. This man was a monster. “A child is going to wonder why his father’s not coming home. How can you be so unaffected?”

Your voice was shaking and you could barely hold back your tears, the emotional turbulence catching up to you without warning. Caleb shot you a concerned glance but swiftly returned to focusing on the path ahead of him.

His fists clenched around the handle. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“None of this would’ve happened if you just killed me, Caleb!” you cried out.

“I said I’d keep you safe,” he repeated, more firmly this time. There was a hint of irritation in his tone. He’d never spoken to you like this before. You only cried harder, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened.

“And here I thought I needed you,” you muttered bitterly, turning away from him. You didn’t want to look at him. “How am I supposed to live with this?”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

Silence settled over the cabin. The only sound you could hear was the dull vibrations of the engine within. Time seemed to pass by torturously slowly. Every second felt too long. The weight of your words and regret lingered in the air, leaving it with a sour taste.

With a sudden lurch, the ship began its descent. The soft jolt of landing brought you back to the present. Caleb unbuckled his harness and went towards the control before crouching down, deftly searching for something beneath the panel.

“What are you doing?”

“Disabling the tracker,” he replied, ripping off the piece with ease. “So they can’t find us.”

Effortlessly crushing it into pieces with his metal hand, he tossed them away and made his way over to you. Before you could ask, he slipped his arms beneath your shoulders and the back of your knees and hoisted you up without so much of a grunt. You banged your fists on his chest, struggling to get out of his hold.

“Let me down!”

“No.”

“Caleb!”

“Please. Let me protect you,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. There was a profound sadness within them, making you waver for a moment. “I promised I’d always keep you safe.”

He trekked through the shallow waters, grasslands and rocky paths with expertise. The new scenery made for a rather good distraction. The sun’s rays peeked between the threes and adorned the path in light and shadow. Birds cawed and chirped from where they were hidden, engaging in a natural symphony. After what felt like hours, you arrived at a bunker built into the hill. He gingerly put you down and walked up to the doors, quickly typing something on the keypad.

“Door is unlocked,” came the automated voice.

He ushered you inside and closed the door behind him, activating every lock hidden behind it. It looked more like a resort than it did a military bunker. There was a kitchen with marble countertops, a massive television on the wall and an equally large sofa as the centerpiece. It smelled clean, like it hadn’t been used in years. The sight of him darting across the place was overwhelming you.

“Caleb!” you called out, breaking him out of his daze. “Can we please talk?”

“This is Commander Rand’s private island. I’ve escorted her here once. No one else knows about it.”

“That’s not what we need to talk about,” you sighed. Feeling weak in the knees, you sat down, and he followed suit. “You… You killed her. And you killed them.”

“She was a threat to you. I had to eliminate her,” he responded. He almost sounded casual. “She was the one who gave me the order to keep an eye on you, and I did. But… there’s something about you. I started to remember. What happened back there gave me proof of it.”

“What have they done to you?” The way your voice was so quiet broke his heart. “You’ve changed.”

The fingers on his bionic arm curled into a fist then relaxed not long after. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before looking at you with regret, weakness evident in his voice, “I can’t tell you.”

You wanted to scream and cry, to break something, but all you did was stare at him. You didn’t know what to feel. It was a tempest in your head, an amalgamation of relief, sadness, anger and shock. You had spent a year grieving over him, digging into the deepest, darkest corners to find out who was behind his death, only to learn that he was alive the entire time. Alive, brainwashed, turned into a super soldier. Turned into a monster.

Despite your rage, you let him pull you in for a warm embrace. The feeling and the warmth of him made you break into sobs again, fists grabbing the fabric of his shirt until they trembled. Your ear was pressed against his chest.. His heart thumped beneath his ribcage, proving to you that this was real. He was real.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured sadly. “I had to do it.”

You slouched against him, eyes slowly closing from the exhaustion. Your drowsy state tuned out the sound of his voice.

“I did it for you.”

—

Caleb was having a nightmare.

His brows furrowed and his fingers flexed and unfurled. Sweat gathered at the crown of his head as he squirmed in place, wincing and mumbling under his breath. You slowly blinked the sleep out of your eyes and blindly patted the bed searching for him. When you found his arm, you gently shook him awake, trying to wake him up.

“Caleb,” you called. “Caleb, wake up.”

His eyes snapped open and he wheezed, chest rising and falling with each breath. In the dim light, he looked up at you and panted, still reeling from his nightmare.

“I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “Why are you saying sorry? It’s out of your control.”

Sighing through your nose, you gingerly brushed his hair back. The damp strands glided between your fingers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. It was the softest you had been with him since yesterday. “It might help take your mind off of it.”

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be hesitating. Knowing him, it was likely because he didn’t want you to see him this way, but it was too late for worries like that.

“They took everything from me,” he murmured, defeated. “My arm. My memories. And…”

He took your hand in his and laced your fingers together. You listened quietly and let him seek your warmth. Even through everything, you cared about him. You were still shaken from what happened, but the way he sounded so broken had you crumbling completely.

“I couldn’t remember,” he continued, barely louder than a whisper. “Until I knew it was you.”

“Caleb…”

“Every time I remembered, they shocked me and put me in ice until my next mission. My life was theirs.”

Heat spread across your body as you grew enraged. Not at him anymore, but at them for ruining him the way they did. He would never be the same. He could never have a normal life again. You couldn’t imagine just how much they put him through in the past year.

“They hurt me, but it can never compare to what they made me do.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to say,” you whispered softly. “If I had known—”

“You being here is enough,” he said, squeezing your hand warmly to ground himself. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

You cupped the side of his face and gently caressed his cheek with your thumb. You didn’t mean the horrible things you said to him, but you couldn’t take them back. An apology died at the tip of your tongue as he shuffled closer, resting his forehead against your own. You could feel his gaze on you even in the dark. You could never forget the way he looked at you. It was something shared between the two of you. Only you and he knew what it meant.

“Caleb,” you breathed, “I missed you.”

Your throat felt like it was getting closed up. Your bottom lip quivered and you began to cry, trying to hold back the sobs that were leaving you. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and burst, sliding down your face and staining the pillow beneath. Your lips were close to brushing each other. Craning your head, you met him in a chaste kiss, eyelids fluttering shut. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you flush to him, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“You said you didn’t need me,” he uttered. A sense of urgency clawed at him. “Do you still believe that?”

You exhaled slowly. “No. I don’t.”

“Say it,” he sighed. “Please.”

“I need you, Caleb.”

His lips met yours in a passionate, hungry kiss. His hands roamed your body, mapping out every inch of your skin beneath his touch as he let you push him onto the bed. You straddled his waist and lovingly cradled his face, letting him lose himself in your taste, eyelids fluttering shut as he fell deeper and deeper. A shaky moan left his throat when you moved to his neck, pressing gentle kisses against it before grazing his skin with your teeth and sucking softly.

He squeezed your hips firmly. “Lay back. I need to taste you.”

The bedsheets rustled as you switched positions, sinking into the pillows beneath. He kissed a trail down your body, taking in your scent before stopping between your legs. Gently lifting your legs, he let them rest on his shoulders as he hurriedly tugged off your panties. You pushed yourself on to your elbows to watch him mark the inside of your thighs with his teeth, fingers digging into your skin possessively. The first flick of the tongue was tentative, testing the waters until you ran your fingers through his hair, nails tenderly scraping his scalp.

He licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, the ticklish sensation making your toes curl into themselves. Wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub, he suckled on it softly, humming deep in his chest as he immersed himself into your arousal.

“Caleb,” you whisper, arching your back when he grazed your clit with his teeth, “I don’t think I can—oh—”

His fingers carefully slid into you, coating themselves in your slick before he started slowly thrusting them in and out, cheeks flushed from the lewd squelching noises made between your legs. Your head fell back, lips parted as a breathy moan left your lips. He curled his digits against your walls, reaching deeper than you could’ve ever done yourself, and your thighs closed down on either side of his head, making him groan.

Tthe ache in your core grew hotter, tighter. His gaze drifted over to you. Your head was thrown back, but he could still see the rise and fall of your chest, feel your muscles tensing under his hands. He pulled back for a moment, a string of spit connecting his lips to your folds.

“Is this good?” he asked breathily, fingertips massaging the spot in your walls that had you crying out broken syllables of his name. You tried to speak, but no words came out; all you could do was moan as he rendered you speechless. Deciding it was enough, he withdrew and gently kissed the inside of your thigh. “Do you think you can take more?”

“Take me,” you sighed, dreamy eyes meeting his.

He climbed back up and kissed you again, letting you taste your own essence from his tongue. The tip of his cock slid between your folds before he gently pushed in inch by inch, making him moan into the kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist, easing him in as you tried to adjust to the unfamiliar stretch inside you. He pulled back to carefully watch your expressions, searching for discomfort as he bottomed out. You felt heavenly around him, your walls sucking in his hardness in ways better than he could’ve imagined.

Caleb pressed light kisses all over your face, murmuring doting words you couldn’t register. Any coherent thought you had in your head dissipated into thin air, the feeling of being filled to the brim too overwhelming to handle in all the best ways possible. You lightly pulled him flush to you, giving him the signal to move. Carefully, he drew his hips back and thrusted forward, taking the breath out of your lungs. He started a slow, steady rhythm, his hips grinding against yours as you hid your face in his neck, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

It was far too much. The foreign bliss invading your senses, the heat exuding from him, the love he made you feel. You whined, your voice reedy as he fucked you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your brain felt like mush, unaware of anything else other than him, him, him.

“I missed you,” he breathed into your ear, murmuring your name with so much love, “I missed you.”

“Caleb—”

You tightly squeezed your thighs around his waist, jaw hanging open as your walls clamped down hard on his cock, making him falter in his movements just the slightest. A soft sound akin to a whimper left his lips, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he chased his own high, hips growing erratic in their pace. It didn’t take long before he tipped over the edge as well, filling you with warm streaks of white. He panted in your ear, catching his breath while your hands travelled across his back, gently petting him in affection.

You pulled him closer. You needed to be near him, needed to be with him in any way possible, the close contact making your mind spin and your heart pound against your ribcage.

“Can I be selfish?” he asked quietly, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss it. “I don’t want you to go.”

You sighed, content. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can’t promise you a peaceful life.” It was a stark contrast to the Colonel who had been at your doorstep. That man was cold and domineering. This man was kind, vulnerable, yours. “I wish I could.”

You caressed his cheek lovingly, giving him a timid smile. “It’s okay. I just want to be with you.”

“We’ll constantly be moving around,” he said. The words were leaving him before he could think. You had that effect on him, he thought, where he felt like he could let his guard down and feel safe with you. His gaze softened as he stared into your eyes, his breath slowing down as he gradually relaxed. “We won’t be home.”

“It was bound to happen,” you cooed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck while he slipped his arms beneath you, holding you close like he was scared you’d fade away. He let out a heavy sigh, sinking into your softness as he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder. “But you’ll protect me, right?”

Caleb’s hold on you tightened. A dark glint passed over his eyes.

“I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Never.”

That was his oath to you.

[hurlingdown]

Punishing Nami for trying to steal from you by plugging your cum back into her with a coin :3

You, like Zoro, are a bounty hunter.

Your latest catch has earned you quite the riches, so you place it under the small treasure chest under your bed, little did you know, a certain red head was spying on you..

In the middle of the night while you're out on the deck drinking, she slides into your room, searching for the chest.

Looking under your bed, she sees a glimpse of gold, eyes widening with greed. As she reaches for it, clutching it with manicured hands until..

She finds she can't get back out again.

.

.

Ah shit.

You come back from your late night drinking, slightly tipsy, but coherent. Coherent enough to walk back into your room, and make an assumption as to why the money-hungry Nami is wiggling her ass under your bed, begging for you to help her get out (or get off).

Sliding down her panties, filling her 'Coin Slot' to the brim.

Thieves need to be punished, don't they?

"I'm sorry~!! Is that what you wanted to hear!? I'll never do it again.." she whimpers (She totally will).

Finishing your deposit to the Sperm 'Bank', you take out a Beri from your pocket, plugging up her fucked out hole.

"Keep the change." You chuckle, finally pulling her out, wiping her dried tears and dragging her up to your bed.

Transaction complete.

- 🍽️ anon 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

oh fuck this was so hot i'm seeing stars.

i am officially going insane. coin slot as a metaphor for pussy? i'm pissed i didn't think of that earlier—that is obscenely perfect for nami!!

plugging her up with a coin after you're done messing her hole up, too? i'm at a loss for words. i think i'm short-circuiting. this is the hottest thing i've read in a very long time jsdfhsdf

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

"your fear of men is completely and totally valid, and i understand."

Thanks for this very patronizing statement. We're valid? I despise the stupid baby talk that plagues this hellsite.

"but we are going to be living in a reality very soon where women and trans people will be targeted at the same time."

You all need to stop this right now. ENOUGH. "Trans" people not being able to lie about their sex and go in spaces they don't belong is NOT "being targeted". How DARE you compare such dumb bullshit to women losing our goddamn human rights. You call yourself a radfem, but all I see is another trans activist with rocks for brains.

"it's going to really break my heart if radfems allow Trump to hurt trans people and strip them of their rights."

I know you'll just plug your ears and scream LALALALA, but radical feminists didn't goddamn vote for Trump. And even if we did, we can't fucking control what he does. Nobody goddamn can!

"you can keep vouching for cis female only spaces"

Do not call us "cis".

"please don't let trans people lose their rights. don't side with Trump on that issue. we can disagree, but women cannot be happy about Trump stealing rights from trans people."

What rights would they lose? The right to lie about their sex on official documents? The right to enter and colonize spaces they don't belong in? The right to take resources from marginalized groups? The right to continue to violently threaten anyone who questions or criticizes them? The right to censor our speech and thought? The right to get cosmetic surgeries and hormone injections they don't need? What about the right to keep telling lesbians to take dick?

I don't give a single FUCK if they lose those "rights".

"women understand oppression completely, and we know what it is like for the leader of our country to despise us."

Yes, we do, and here you are, asking that we feel empathy for "trans" people, who have shown nothing but contempt for women.

"don't side with Trump on that issue."

A broken clock being right twice a day does not mean I am fully aligned with the clock. I am so fucking tired of this stupid "if you're not with us, you're against us" bullshit. GROW THE FUCKING HELL UP.

"can we have a truce?"

No, actually, we fucking can't. I will not make nice with those who despise my sex and those with my sexuality. I will not pursue peace with those who want to strip of women and gays of our spaces, language, rights, abuse, rape, and kill us (as your beloved "trans" people have been doing almost every fucking day since at least the 1960s). Fuck Trump, and fuck "trans" people.

"you can critique them but please don't be complicit in their lives being taken."

Fun fact: Using threats of suicide (because we all know that's what you're implying) to manipulate others is a textbook abuser tactic. I'm not responsible for anyone's mental health. I'm not yielding to "trans" people to keep them from killing themselves (which they aren't - there's no epidemic of "trans" suicides).

"women, please fight for trans people."

"even if we don't agree, we are in the same boat here."

We are not. We are nowhere near in the same goddamn boat. Women are in a canoe that's sinking into the goddamn sea while "trans" people are on a luxury yacht telling us we deserve to drown and acting like not being served the freshest shrimp cocktail is akin to genocide.

"we can disagree and still support each other. please.

Actually, we can't, and your beloved "trans" people made it that way by censoring, firing, and threatening any woman who mildly disagreed with them.

"trans people, i love you. i support you. i will fight for you. "

Women, I love you. I support you. I will fight for you against everyone who oppresses us, whether they're in a MAGA hat or a shitty wig.

"i am a radfem, but i am also a trans ally, because those things can coexist, even if it seems very unlikely."

No, they cannot. And you are NOT a radfem.

You may be a teenager, but I don't care. The ignorance of youth is not an excuse anymore. I'm beyond sick of you entitled little shits coming in here and lecturing women (because it's only ever women) on being "nice" to those who hurt us. You are not a peacemaker. You are not the cool headed party here. You are not fighting for the oppressed.

You have no life experience. No empathy. No awareness. Nothing. You don't know anything about anyone. You have no context, no idea what the hell you're talking about, so do everyone a favor and keep your fucking mouth shut.

You might not give a single fucking shit about other girls and women, but I do. Stop making things even worse for us.

okay radfems, those of you who are trans exclusive.

i know we disagree. i don't agree with your views of trans people. i know that trans people are valid and not our enemies. i understand you feel differently, and i understand why. your fear of men is completely and totally valid, and i understand. i know at this point that i won't change your minds about trans people, im not going to try to. trans people are not women's' enemies, but i understand your fear.

but we are going to be living in a reality very soon where women and trans people will be targeted at the same time. Trump will come for women and he will come for trans people. and it's going to really break my heart if radfems allow Trump to hurt trans people and strip them of their rights. women understand oppression completely, and we know what it is like for the leader of our country to despise us. trans people know that too. we will both have to deal with that in two months. and i'm just asking, please radfems, you can keep vouching for cis female only spaces, you can keep believing trans women are men and trans men are women, i know that i can't change that, but please don't let trans people lose their rights. don't side with Trump on that issue. we can disagree, but women cannot be happy about Trump stealing rights from trans people. women should not be supporting that. we can disagree about trans people, but please please please. can we have a truce? for four years, can there be a truce? it can be a halfway truce. you can dislike trans people but still believe they should have rights. you can critique them but please don't be complicit in their lives being taken. please.

trans people, please fight for women, and women, please fight for trans people. even if we don't agree, we are in the same boat here. we can disagree and still support each other. please.

trans people, i love you. i support you. i will fight for you. i am a radfem, but i am also a trans ally, because those things can coexist, even if it seems very unlikely. let's fight for each other. please

[what-have-i-unleashed]

hello @toffeebrews

Toffee adjusts the veil on her fluffy head, sniffling loudly. This is the worst day of her life.

The wedding venue is grand – a cathedral with gothic arches and ornate glass windows. The flowers decorating the place are all black, not because they’re dyed, but because they’re all dead from the presence of the groom.

The groom, right.

Nightmare.

Nightmare, whom Toffee categorically does not like.

Nightmare, who is exuding such a threatening aura, not in a sexy way, but in the join-my-cult-or-die way.

Toffee sobs even harder.

“Quit crying,” Nightmare mutters to her as she stepped onto the cursed altar, facing him. “It’s humiliating.”

“Humiliating?!” Toffee cries. “I’d rather be humiliated than married to you! I don’t even like you! Why are we even here?!”

“Political reasons,” Nightmare says, completely bored. “You're a valuable asset. This union will strengthen my influence. Plus, my subordinates suggested I should ‘get a life.’”

Toffee glares at the front row, where said subordinates – Killer, Murder, and Horror – are seated.

“Oh yeah, that was totally a joke,” Killer says, smiling innocently. “Didn’t think he’d go along with it.”

Murder leans back on the bench, bored out of his mind. “Whatever. I don’t care either way.”

Horror shrugs. “Eh, I don’t know. This is quite entertaining so far.”

Toffee swirls back to face Nightmare. “Your subordinates were joking!”

“And yet, here we are.” Nightmare gestures at the officiant, who is wearing a very ominous veil over their face. “Let’s move along.”

Toffee hiccups miserable. And then, somehow, it gets worse.

“Oh, sorry, I’m late!” A colorful skeleton pushes open the grand door and rushes towards the front row. “Did I miss anything?” He crouches down to give Killer a light peck.

“Nah, you’re just in time, Color,” Killer replies, his smile going from razor sharp to impossibly soft upon landing eyes on the new guest.

Color and Killer. Together.

Her crushes. Dating each other. Watching her having the worst day of her life. To be honest, she expects this from Killer. But not Color, who is such a sweetheart, whose laugh can heal her aching lovesick heart.

Toffee’s sobbing intensifies.

“Color!” she wails, pointing her finger at the lovebirds. “How could you betray me like this?!”

Color blinks. “Huh?”

“You’re dating Killer?! And I have to marry him?!” She gestures her paw at Nightmare, who rolls his eye.

“Stop being dramatic,” Nightmare says.

“You wouldn’t understand!” Toffee cries. “This is a tragedy! I should be with them, not you!”

From the front row, Color looks a little guilty. “Uh, we didn't know you liked us like that…”

Killer, however, is unfazed. “Yeah, also, not to rub salt in the wound, but have we even met before?”

Toffee sobs, drenching the bouquet in her hands that she’s holding on for dear life.

The officiant clears their throat loudly. “Ahem, if we could now move onto the vows?”

… Wait a minute. Toffee recognizes that voice.

“Leashed?!!” she shrieks. “You’re officiating this?!!”

Leashed, her so-called friend, shrugs. “Oh yeah, I’m not going to miss a chance to see you miserable, Toff. Also, they have unlimited rosé here – I just can’t resist.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“You should’ve expected this from me actually.”

Toffee turns to Color and Killer one last time, eyes shining with desperation. “You could still rescue me,” she sniffles. “Object to the union.”

Color and Killer look at each other, then at Nightmare, who stands ominously at the altar. Then at Leashed, who is humming a cheerful tune under their breath.

“… We will give you a nice housewarming gift?” Color hedges, then winces when Toffee bursts into tears again.

“Oh, this is the best wedding ever.” Leashed smiles, preparing to dramatically pronounce the newlyweds. They couldn’t wait to tell the others about this.

[a-little-bit-insecure]

I'm always gonna be a little upset about Ruby ending up with Dorothy.

Their relationship was just super forced in my opinion. There was 0 chemistry between the two, it just felt kinda stagnant and awkward.

I get love at first sight, it's one of the main themes of the series, literally what Snow and Charmings' relationship is based on. But it was just done wrong for Ruby and Dorothy.

Ruby really only had two main love options to me.

The first being Dr. Whale- because yes. It's Red Riding Hood and Doctor Frankenstein, it shouldn't work but it does.

Their talk after Whale tries to jump off the dock is just touching, completely opening themselves up to each other in an extremely vulnerable moment.

In their one- maybe two- meetings, they had more chemistry than Ruby and Dorothy did.

And the second- my personal bias- was Ruby and Mulan. 100%. These two were the wlw ship of OUAT for me.

Like.

Like....

LIKE

You see the way Mulan is looking at Ruby? That is love at first sight.

That is the most "Oh wow" look I have ever seen.

Ruby and Mulan had maybe 3 episodes in total together, and yet they had as much chemistry as any of the official couples did. The way Mulan's looking at Ruby could rival Hook and Emma's longing glances at each other.

Nothing in this show is topping Ruby and Mulan's introduction, their first meeting is quite literally Ruby mounting Mulan. That's one of the gayest (complimentary) things I've ever seen.

Mulan literally followed Ruby to a different land.

Ruby had two extremely viable love interests, and it's such a shame to me that she didn't end up with either of them.

And honestly, Mulan really deserved to end up with Ruby. Her entire story is just heartbreak, always being chosen over for someone else. Mulan and Ruby could have been an absolutely beautiful relationship, with Mulan learning to open herself up again and let herself love, and Ruby finally finding the family she's been searching for for so long, in the woman who followed her to freaking Oz no less.

This was just such a lost opportunity for a genuine relationship.

[raddestrose]

Bro Imma be for real, it didn’t click that Huaisang was the like THE guy, it took me like a few minutes

But forgive me for saying, he’s like totally innocent in my book

[jackfrostimposter]

genuinely why is there so much misinformation about the guardians of childhood book series?

[thelesbianoffrontiers]

RUBY CADASH • FRIEND OF RED JENNY

[thatfaerieprincess]

Do y’all want to see me hopping around dressed up as a green tree frog for our Halloween kids event at work???

[habitual-creatures]

I’m feelin’ good. Feelin’ sassy. Especially at 4 a.m. How are you Mr. H?

(I’m new to your blog and this fandom as a whole but finally got the courage to send something.)

DOIN' PRETTY GOOD, Y'KNOW. GLAD TO HEAR WE'RE FEELIN' SASSY OVER THERE, THAT'S GOOD, THAT'S HALF THE BATTLE NOW, ISN'T IT?

DAMN RIGHT IT ISN'T.

[ REGARDS, HABIT ]

(( gahhh!!!! Hi!! I remember the notification of you following me! I'm glad you sent something *please don't be afraid of me, lol. I'm nice I promise-* but thanks for sending me something, Adal! It's nice to hear from ya! ))

[shirogane-oushirou]

i'm working on the gifs and... this isn't a final gif or anything, but i NEEDED to show off my sopping wet puppy of a guy. look at the sweat fling off of his chin??? holding him and wiping off his face with a handkerchief aughhhh

[ink--theory]

aw yeah hell suits are back baybeee

[nexus-nebulae]

so like. the last of the Paradox crew that we introjected is finally reaching the end of their fronting cycle that was way longer than anyone else's and. wow did not expect That Many of them to be the ones mostly in charge of collective memory and internal protection? we're forgetting More Stuff bc we don't have Percy constantly popping in to provide some system history

[bumpscosity]

FINISHED PORTAL REVOLUTION A BIT AGO IM

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

man I really would love to see an (explicitly) religious companion on Doctor Who. esp one who's written in such a way as makes their faith relevant to the storylines and challenges and tests it but ultimately remains respectful and keeps the theme of it relevant within the specific science fiction setting that Doctor Who occupies. I personally just think that would be great.

[skyburger]

new title & bio... hopefully the way the number displays is just on my tiny phone screen? so if its like that on everyones screens well. My bad guys