#Sons of Merrick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowyolks · 1 year

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SWEET ELIXIR

Pairing: Vampire!Keegan Russ x Female!Reader

Prompt: After an unfortunate capture, Keegan is held hostage by the Federation. Unable to break his tough resolve, Rorke injects him with a new type of drug, something that makes him inhuman. Now a blood sucking monster, Keegan is turned loose with the objective to hunt his fellow teammates, including you.

Words: 5.2 k

Warnings: Keegan is a horny vampire, Biting, Blood Kink, Oral (f receiving), Fingering, Blood sucking, P in V sex, creampie, obsession with pulse points, typical COD violence, a lil bit of cock warming to balance it all out. And I feel as if whiny Keegan needs it’s own warning.

A/n: this took too long. Bite me! Get it?

“You’re a tough son of a bitch to find.” The familiar growl of a former teammate met his ringing ears rather roughly.

If he was able to lift his head, he may have considered spitting on Rorke’s face in angry retaliation. But Keegan felt numb, he could no longer feel his fingertips against the cold restraints of his prison cell. His bare torso was more black and blue than his actual skin tone, and blood dripped from his torso down to his pants.

He was dying, that much he knew.

Yet, the Ghost would rather take a stabbing blade one hundred times to the heart than let the federation capture you.

He’d do anything. Fight anyone. Bear any wound or torture just to know you were safe. And maybe that made him foolish, and for that he’d willingly be called a fool.

It was supposed to be a simple scout mission, to access the liveliness of a border camp that the Federation had set up just on the outskirts of San Francisco. It was you and him, the quiet ones of the Ghosts.

You were a lethal one, always quick and steady on your feet. It had gotten you in trouble before ODIN, often times you’d be reprimanded by your Drill Sergeants before you eventually fell under the command of Elias Walker. You were forever in his debt, because now, you found a family you’d never known.

You’d been trying to crack Keegan’s shell ever since Operation Sand Viper. You were both so young back then, fresh out of High School and foolishly trying to prove yourselves. You’d fought tooth and nail with him the first few years, always attempting to one up each other.

Now, you worked as a well oiled machine. You covered his back, he shielded yours.

He smiled through the pain as he recalled how he’d been captured. You’d been so excited to go with him on the mission, the two of you hadn’t had any alone time in months. Simply resolving in hidden affections of stolen kisses and longing caresses he’d wished were more.

He’d finished scouting the camp, taking notes and envisioning tactics to take on the tangos once Ajax, Merrick, and Kick joined in. You were next to him, crouched down and putting your binoculars away.

“I gotcha something.” You hummed as you silently continued to shuffle through your pack.

His eyes fell away from the camp in finality, stepping back into the cover of everglade and leaves. His gaze softened slightly as he took you in, a faint crinkle catching upon the corner of his eyes.

You held out the faded package to him with a giddy look, and although your nose and lips were covered by your mask, he could still see just how happy you were to gauge his reaction. He felt his own lips pull against the worn fabric of his mask, a twinkle in his eyes as he studied the package now in his palm.

A honeybun.

He chuckled silently at the offering. You’d been quick to catch onto Keegan’s undeniable sweet tooth. He was always one to raid safehouses and cars for any sweet he could get his hands on. Often times you’d find him sucking on peppermints to break his awful cigarette addiction, something you found slightly amusing.

You didn’t mind tasting mint on his lips.

“Where’d you find the time to snatch this?” His voice was rough from not speaking, but the soft edge was still heard. You simply shrugged, watching him tear open the package. “I have my ways.”

He split the stale cake into two pieces, offering one out to you, which you took graciously. It had been a long time since either of you had anything sweet, regardless of it being stale and expired.

You chewed upon the artificial pastry, grimacing at the taste that reminded you of sugary sawdust, yet Keegan seemed to be enjoying the treat regardless. He licked the crumbs from his fingers, his jaw ticking slightly from chewing, it had been a while since he shaved. Still the shadow growing on his cheeks definitely suited him.

“What’re you staring at, doll?”

You scoffed at his teasing tone, lightly giving him a shove. Just as you were about to retaliate a gunshot rang through the night air. On instinct, the two of you ducked, yet it was far easier for you to drop to the ground.

Keegan shouldered his rifle, eyes glinting as he clicked the safety off and turned into the direction he thought the shot came from.

“It came from East of us, about four o’clock.” His voice dropped into his usual ordering tone. But a slow sniffle made him drop his gaze to you. Your hand was clutched over your shoulder, red already leaking through your fingers and soaking your clothes.

“Fuck! Hang in there, beautiful,” he felt his heart drop, even though you were doing everything right—Putting pressure on the wound. His own hand covered yours, pushing down even harder. You whined in protest which had him cursing.

“I know, doll. I know it hurts, but keep that pressure.”

He pushed a hand to his comm, frantically shaking fingers nearly missing the open line. Your blood smeared across his face accidentally. He’d never been so sick by the thought.

“Merrick! Requesting immediate EVAC.” His voice was commanding, though it rang loosely like you were underwater. The bullet wound hurt like a toothache, a constant throb, that had your eyelids betraying you like an anchor to sea.

“Hey!” Keegan spoke above you, lightly patting upon your clothed cheek to keep you awake. “I told Merrick our exact coordinates. Stay put, I’ll draw them away.”

You hummed, before he grasped your chin between his fingers. “Tell me you understand.” He ordered, just as you weakly held up a thumbs up.

“I understand.”

With a nod, Keegan left the cover of the brush, and that was the last you saw before your eyes closed.

His head whipped to the side, a forceful smack hit the flesh so hard it had him spitting blood. His knuckles clenched bone white at his sides.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Soldier. Where are you Ghosts holed up?” Rorke’s voice sounded more distant than it was.

“Fuck… you.” Keegan grunted, a deranged smile painted against his lips as blood slicked upon his teeth. Rorke chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Damn you Ghosts! Always so hard to break. But trust me, everyone has a breaking point. Even that little bird you have sleeping in your nest.” Rorke alluded to you, and it was enough for Keegan’s eyes to flare in anger.

“I think I’ll kill her last, she was always so weak.”

Keegan’s jaw clenched tightly, despite his numb body, he found courage to jolt forward, slamming his forehead into Rorke. The sound cracked across the cement walls, and while it sealed his fate, at least he got to hit the bastard one more time.

“Shouldn’t have done that, Russ.” Rorke growled, body swaying slightly before moving to the table designed for Keegan’s torture.

The Ghost’s eyes dropped to his lap, finally letting numbness take over as his eyes fluttered shut. Rorke’s footsteps approached, just as his large palm gripped upon Keegan’s neck, his pulse thumping dully. He tilted his head upwards, just as Keegan caught sight of the metallic syringe held in his opposite hand.

The fluid incased was a vibrant red, almost as if it was glowing. Yet, he didn’t seem to care as he slumped again, barely feeling the prick against his carotid artery. He’d hoped whatever he was being injected with would kill him. At least then he’d know you’d be safe and he wouldn’t have to keep up such a tough resolve.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, but if you won’t tell me where the Ghosts are, you’ll kill them for me.” His words had Keegan’s brow furrowing, but before he could even let his mind run, a blade entered between his ribs, plunging into his heart and killing him instantly.

It had been two days since you woke up in the med bay. Two days since Keegan was officially marked as M.I.A.

You exhaled, as you settled your mask over your nose, looking forward and nodding towards Merrick, who appeared grim on the other side of the chopper. It was obvious he didn’t like the idea of you out in the field with a freshly healed bullet wound, but Ghosts looked after each other and you’d be damned if you left any quadrant unturned. You’d find Keegan, if it was the last thing you did.

Your shoulder ached against the weight of your pack, but it didn’t stop you from heaving extra med packs. Merrick chewed upon his lip again, eyeing you warily. You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes. Remembering his conversation earlier of how you weren’t on your game, stating this rescue was too personal. You’d argued that this was Keegan.

A gentle palm landed on your uninjured shoulder, causing you to glance up again to see the former Seal staring down at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes.

“We’ll find him, I promise you that.”

You found yourself nodding, determination flaring in your very soul as you listened to Merrick give the rundown.

“We don’t have leeway to fly out until tomorrow, so conserve ammo and don’t get caught. We’ll split into quadrants. I’ll take West, Ajax cover North, Kick go South.”

That left you to East. Where Keegan was last seen. This was the quadrant you needed to be at, it would be the one with the most tracks.

“Speak limitedly. Remember we are in hostile territory.” Merrick sounded just as your feet hit the mossy ground with a plunk.

You nodded, before falling back into the dark wasteland of the forest. Crickets chirped against the overgrown roots and owls hooted from the shared branches. If it wasn’t for your situation, you’d definitely enjoy sitting upon a stump and listening to the sounds nature gave.

Light from the moon floated against the swaying leaves, although it definitely wasn’t enough to illuminate the way. With a click and a beep, you pulled your night vision gear down over your eyes.

It was eerily quiet, especially for a camp being only a couple hundred yards from your location. With a clenched jaw you pushed onwards, head on a swivel as you suppressed the queasy feeling from your gut.

You crouched under some brush when your eyes leveled with the small hunting cabin that the Federation soldiers were camped out at. Tents fluttered in the balmy breeze. It was disturbing, to see a camp with life and light now had none.

No lanterns, no fire, no electricity. Nothing.

That was definitely not what it was like two days ago. If anything, the federation soldiers were too easy to find. Loud and obnoxious as they drank alcohol and burnt their fires too high so smoke flew over the trees lines.

Now you heard nothing. Only the hoot of the owls and chirping crickets. It had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up straight.

With a little exhale, you crept onwards. Slowly inching to the corners of camp, where you maneuvered around several empty tents, the entrance flaps open and flowing in the breeze.

Your eyes followed a patch of trampled moss, something that indicated struggle. Your heart leapt at the clue, at least now you had a lead. You crouched, leveling with the path. It lead to the old cabin. Maybe, just maybe Keegan was there and licking his wounds.

A loud crack sounded in front of you, just beyond the wooden cabin and out into the forest. You already had your assault rifle pointed towards the noise, just as you began to advance.

It sounded of a broken twig, as if someone was discreetly spying upon your stalking form. Your back finally hit the wall of the cabin, before you hesitantly peaked around the corner. Your jaw clenched at the sight of four bodies all face down upon the moss.

Your heart dropped when you saw the familiar mask of a certain ghost, the material lay against the ground, torn.

“No,”

You dropped the rifle to the side of the wall without a second thought, rushing to the bodies, relieved when you saw the tuffs of blonde hair and unfamiliar clothes upon the three bodies. Blood dried in puddles, almost like a cushion. The color was a dark brown, they’ve been dead for a while. Your heart pounded as you approached the last body, dark hair cropped so much like Keegan’s— dark tactical gear as well.

The body was a few yards away from the others, moss upturned like someone had grappled with him before they fell. With shaky fingers you flipped the body over. You let out a watered gasp, relief wrapping you like a blanket when the glassy eyes staring back at you weren’t Keegans.

You studied the Soldier, noticing the dirt under his fingernails, the claw marks in the soil next to him made it seem like he was trying to crawl away. Then you noticed how little injuries this guy had. The other three had visible gunshot wounds, and as you looked closer you saw the smoky black shells of Keegan’s signature bullets.

This body, had no wounds. No bullet to the lungs or heart. You crouched lower, turning his face to the side.

You clenched your jaw when you caught the laceration upon his neck.

Teeth marks.

You stood quickly, turning to the side to where your rifle was resting against the side of the cabin.

It wasn’t there.

Instead a loud click echoed through the night, your mag falling to the dirt as you looked to the man who held upon your rifle. A man that should have been Keegan, if it wasn’t for the bright red eyes and crusted blood over his chin.

“Keegan?” You couldn’t help but whisper, nearly cringing when your words got caught in your throat. The man in front of you nodded, setting your rifle back in its original spot.

“How’s your wound?” He asked. You took a step backwards, upon seeing him advance slowly towards you. His eyes never leaving your wounded shoulder, where bandages still rested upon the flesh.

“What? Why haven’t you tried to radio us? I’ve been eating myself alive.” You wailed, attempting to ignore just how much your brain was telling you to run. Maybe the red in his eyes was simply an illusion, perhaps he popped a blood vessel.

The creature, Keegan held up a radio he fished from his pocket. You faintly made out the broken material from a couple yards away.

“Have you been here this whole time? You must be hungry?”

Keegan’s eyes dropped to the body near your feet, just as his gaze trailed up your own until they landed on your shoulder again. You swore his eyes grew darker as he bit on his lip.

“Yes I’m hungry.” He murmured.

Cautiously you took a step forward, observing the way his body stiffened and how he seemed to be holding his breath. His head tilted to the moss below, refusing to look you in your eyes.

As you grew closer your heart plunged deeper. His eyes were red, this wasn’t some illusion.

“What happened to you?”

Keegan peered down at you, his eyelashes sticking to his cheeks.

“I-I don’t know. I was captured. Tortured.” He huffed, taking a step back as he inhaled too strongly. He brought his hand up to his temples, rubbing furiously.

You gaped at him, how he escaped was beyond you, how he was standing with no visible injuries— it concerned you more than if he would have came back bloodied and bruised.

“I need to sit down, you’re too loud,” he growled. Faster than a blink, a literal blink Keegan disappeared from your view, only a shadow inside the cabin indicating he was crouched over a worn out sofa.

It was inhuman to move that fast. Still, you needed answers. You figured this wasn’t the most horrific thing you’ve faced as a soldier.

You were silent when you approached next, the only indication you were near was when a floorboard creaked from under your boots and the door clicked shut behind you. “Let me check for wounds.” You whispered, now more aware.

“I already did. All of them healed, as if I wasn’t tortured at all.”

Your hand flew to his shoulder at his defeated whine, so uncharacteristically like Keegan it scared you. His nose bumped against your wrist. He let out a deep inhale.

“I blacked out, woke up to a soldier guarding me in this house. He tried to run, but I killed him.” He wheezed.

“How’d you kill them?” You whispered into the dark room, knowing the answer, but wanting him to confirm it. Maybe he’d deny it, and you’d wake up from this horrifying nightmare.

Monsters didn’t exist. Vampires weren’t real. Still…..

“I-I bit his neck, I could hear his pulse, smell the blood. I…. Drank it.”

Your breathing picked up, something that Keegan picked up on immediately. He was up from the couch in a flash, cool palms laying upon your cheeks as he pleaded.

“I couldn’t help it! Something happened to me, Rorke he injected me with this drug, made me like this. He said I would kill you. All of the Ghosts.”

Your hands wrapped upon his wrists, eyes wide as you listened to his begging. This thing, it sounded like your Keegan, maybe with proper help he could be saved. Maybe.

“Do you… want to kill me?” You asked, glancing upwards as you saw his throat bob. Immediately he shook his head, red eyes boring into you as his fingertips pushed against your pulse.

“No. I love you too much to consider.” He vowed, hands reaching ever so gently down your sides in an unconscious practice, something he did so frequently in the confines of your quarters.

“But God, you smell so good.” He whined again, nose falling ever so gently to your thrumming pulse point. You were ashamed at how quickly heat rushed to your core. He was some type of monster now, yet, still you felt the sudden need to be with him.

A monster in a cabin, how ironically cliche.

As if to make matters worse, you felt his intake of breath, just as his fingertips dug hard into your hips, like he was anchoring himself to you.

It was wrong, definitely not morally correct to lean closer towards him. To smell his scent of hickory smoke and twang of blood. Still, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the feel of him. He was still your Keegan, and maybe you could make adjustments of his situation as you went.

A low hiss alerted you to just how uncomfortable he must be. Whatever he was, a lust for blood made him dangerous. And here you were baiting him like a worm on a hook, ready to be swallowed whole.

“I need you…” he growled against the nape of your neck again, heat swelled to your stomach. You weren’t sure if he needed your blood or you, maybe he wanted both.

Without so much as a second, you let your mouth speak before your brain could keep up. “Then take me.”

It happened in a whirl, so fast that you didn’t even register that your head was perched against the soft plush of the old sofa. His hands were on you, one attached to your hip while the other cradled the back of your neck.

You gasped at your new position, yet Keegan seemed to care less as he maneuvered your head to his, lips hungrily falling to your own in desperation. He was never one to act so brash, always taking time to kiss you and prep you. Now, he seemed to let those morals fly out the window.

His mouth was warm against your own, his lips slotting hard enough to leave your own swelling and full. Once out of your dazed position, you reached upwards, going to wrap your arms around his torso to pull him ever so tight.

Then you heard the rip.

A slow whimper left your mouth as Keegan hesitated to pull away. Your hand reached for your shoulder, your thumb brushed against the damp liquid of your own blood.

Instantly you grew rigid at the red color, your guilty gaze finding that Keegan was already glancing at the blood pooled on your thumb. His eyes screwed shut, even though his hands were working at the harness and buckles of your pants. Likely, he was trying to keep himself busy, away from the surely pungent tang of your blood.

“Breaking my heart, doll.” Keegan muttered through hesitant inhales, as if he was getting used to the scent. “I’m sorry, I pulled on the stitches.” You muttered, slightly unconscious of your opposite hand trailing upon his pleasantly cool chest.

His head shook, knowing it wasn’t your fault that you had obtained the gunshot wound. It was his, he was supposed to protect you, as he was right now. As he always would, regardless of the sweet and irresistible scent of your blood.

“It’s not your fault. But my senses are stronger. I see things I never saw, feel things more intricately, smell things more intoxicating.”

He brought your thumb to his lips, the heat of his tongue sucking upon the drop of blood on the fingertip, “taste things that’s never been so sweet.”

He dropped your hand with delicate care, strange for his new form that reeked of destruction. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, biting down upon your lip as he sniffed the air again.

“I can smell your arousal, ya know?” He teased, a toothy grin revealing slightly sharper teeth— fangs. Your face grew red with embarrassment, as you typically did with Keegan’s bold behavior in the bedroom.

“So are you just going to smell it, or are you going to help me?” You whined, your arousal only soaring as Keegan tugged upon the waistband of your pants and pulled them off your legs in one fluid motion.

“Oh, doll. I can’t wait to taste you.” His hunger radiated around him in waves, even with the balmy night air in the barely lit cabin, you found yourself shivering. Shivering as he lowered himself down further upon the couch, placing teasingly slow kisses upon each of your hip bones. His hands trailed down your bare legs, the callouses of his palms scraping pleasantly down to your knees.

Your thighs were lifted, now prettily perched upon his broad shoulders. He’d had the audacity to look at you through red hooded eyes, burning a hole into your very soul as his fingertips traced patterns on your warm flesh.

Your breath hitched when he tilted his chin down, his nose brushing teasingly against the swelling bud of your clit. Then, a curse flew from your mouth as he licked a stripe against your cunt.

He was purring, a happy hum leaving his throat as he kissed gently upon your opening. Your head flew back against the velvet cushion of the couch, hands gripping for anything that would anchor you back to the earth.

The floating feeling only increased as his lips suctioned around your clit, a lewd slurping noise filling the air.

A hand went to his hair, the soft midnight tuffs more outgrown than he usually liked. His palm pushed you down further against his lips, the feeling he brought you was much alike electricity— Alive, breathless, euphoric.

His other hand drifted down your thigh, the rough pads of his fingertips providing a beautiful contract that always drove you over the edge. So much blood on his hands, on his ledger, and yet he loved you so well.

The gentle push of his finger against your entrance had you moaning, the breach being enough to have the knot in your stomach pull taut. You wouldnt last long at the pace he was going, and judging by the smile printed against your inner thigh, Keegan knew it as well.

“You taste better than I remember, God.” He whined as if you were pleasuring him instead, his finger still worked in tangent, slick echoing against the skin in a dirty symphony. He added another, curling the digits against your walls just as he dove back in, flicking his tongue upon your overstimulated clit.

You clutched onto his head as you released against him, a slight growl falling from his lips as you echoed his name into the night. His fingers slipped from you with a pop, and just when you thought he would resurface, his lips parted again, falling to your opening. His tongue pushed into you, swirling heavenly as he lapped up all of your previous orgasm.

The sensation made you see stars, but he became ever so aware of what you wanted now. Your fingers clutched onto the collar of his ripped long sleeve, the material accenting his rippling biceps and chest nicely, yet you wanted nothing but to take it off. Keegan granted the silent command, pulling away from your weeping cunt and shimmying out of his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. You found yourself taking off your vest and shirt as well.

He leant over you like a sinner, praying to his God. His knees dropped to the far end of the sofa, just so his weight hovered over the top of you like a longing shadow, desperate to touch the object it always followed. His eyes were round and lusting as they took you in. You did the same.

He was beautiful. The moon overcasting his back and showcasing the upturnt scars and hardships in a milky glow. He was effortlessly strong, effortlessly comforting, and effortlessly eternal all in one. Your hand trailed down the soft curves of his chest, to his stomach. Goosebumps following after your fingers, as your nails scratched against the fine muscle of his abdomen.

Your hand flowed down his body like a gentle wave, when finally you reached his cock. He was painfully erect, the head of him leaking a fair amount of pre-cum. You chuckled silently into the night— as if you needed more slick, You’d swallow him whole, as you always did.

Your thumb brushed against his slit, massaging the cum down his shaft in a painfully slow motion that had him yelping desperately. His stubbled cheek once again found the slot between your shoulder, the tough hairs scratching pleasantly against your neck.

You pumped him, the sheer size of the ghost was always a surprise to you. His cock was lengthy and thick, no matter how much he attempted to warm you up, he still burrowed and stretched your walls to the maximum. Oh, how you loved it.

He held his breath as you lined him up to your entrance, not before brushing his head to gather the most of your slick.

“Ready?” He asked through a barely contained growl.

“Fuck me…” you murmured through a lustful stupor, finding yourself entrapped in his crimson stare as he angled his upper body above you. His arms caged by your head, meeting with your eyes he plunged into you, a slow hiss fell from his lips as he breached ever so slowly. Your own eyes fluttered at the sudden fullness he provided you with.

His head flew back as he whined, likely his unwavering control slipping inch by inch. Steadily you pulled his chin to your face and attached your lips again, providing a heavenly distraction as you tasted yourself upon his tongue.

He sheathed himself into you, biting upon your lip gently as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“So warm, doll.” He pulled away slightly to praise. Your stomach fluttered at his words, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, nearly whimpering when he pulled halfway out of your cunt.

He was ruthless as he slammed back down, making the breath fall out of your lungs in a violent symphony. He set the pace roughly, making you release a series of moans and pleads of his name.

His hands were everywhere all at once. His palms hiked upward on your thighs, pushing you into him while you subconsciously wrapped them around his hips in a constricted and possessive grip. The other flew to your breasts, kneading the flesh in a harsh hold. His fingertips pinched upon the hardening bud of your nipple, making you release a satisfied gasp.

“Keegan…. Please.” You didn’t know why you were begging, he was giving you everything you needed. He rutted particularly deep at your plead, digging himself deeper into the warmth he so desperately craved. He wanted to be a part of you, to feel you so closely and to pleasure your every cell.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He cursed, looking down upon your flustered cheeks and panting lips. You fluttered around him again, making him lose all since of control he had before.

“I don’t know how much more I can take of you, I need it.” His panicked whine was enough for you to fall over the edge, his hips slapping into you at such a frantic pace it had you seeing stars.

He wasn’t going to stop. And you didn’t want him to. You knew what he needed, and you’d give it to him. Willingly and with open arms.

“Then take it.” You whimpered into the night air, watching his pupils blow and his thrusts to go even deeper. His little whine of protest was put to an end as his lips kissed gently upon your pulse point. His looming body caging you from squirming.

He didn’t stop his sloppy thrusting, even when he placed torturous open-mouthed kisses all down the soft flesh of your neck, until his tongue lapped gently against the thrumming pulse of your artery.

It pinched when his sharp fang-like teeth bit into your skin, yet the cooling nature of his tongue and lips pulled you to ecstasy. You clenched around him, having no time to warn him of your rapid orgasm until your legs wrapped around him tighter, your walls clenching his cock so tight his body was soon to follow you.

He was definitely in a nirvana-like state, his lips still suckling gently upon the sweet taste of your blood, his throat bobbing gently as he drank upon your life. His eyes were clenched shut as he rutted impossibly deep, hitting the very cup of your womb as he stilled.

He pulled away from your neck with a tough resolve, wanting more but knowing he couldn’t have it. Instead he focused on his earth-shattering orgasm, how his cock twitched inside you and released ropes of hot seed. He’d never felt so euphoric.

You laid limp under him, eyes flooded in darkness as you lazily looked to the blood slowly trailing down his chin. Your own blood.

Keegan collapsed, not even daring to pull his softening cock out of you quite yet. His weight was comforting, and as your fingers trailed to his chin, you collected the blood there, pushing it gently against his lips until he sucked the nectar off your fingertip with a satisfied hum.

Laying on this old couch in an abandoned cabin wasn’t ideal. And neither was the monster above you.

But you’d love him until your last breath. Even if Keegan happened to cause it.

#whew #news flash I still don’t know how to end smut #I want a vampire to bite me guys #cod #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ #Keegan p Russ #keegan russ x reader #vampire AU

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mrshesh · 9 months

Note

hi! do you have any general hcs for the cod:ghosts boys?

general headcanons - call of duty: ghost's

overview: general headcanons of the call of duty: ghost's boys!

pairing: none!

genre: fluff, pure tomfoolery

a/n: hi anon! i'm thrilled i finally got a request for these boys. i love them so much, it's getting a bit unhealthy. you're truly the best for requesting them! i hope you love it!

x logan walker

He sucks at puzzles. He’s smart and tactical, but puzzles are on another level of difficulty for him.

He likes doodling a lot. If he has a pen and a surface to draw on, he will sketch a small smiley or a caterpillar. It has become such a habit that he doesn’t even think about it when he does it. It got so bad that once, Keegan called him out on it mid-doodle, leaving Logan embarrassed for a week.

He loves the ocean, but beaches annoy him. He hates sand. (I firmly believe his hate for them is from Hesh throwing sand in his face as children.)

He has a picture of him and Hesh as kids in his wallet. He feels calmer when he looks at it, getting into the habit of peeking at it when stressed.

He’s an avid Deftones enjoyer. He loves Beware and Diamond Eyes.

He likes caramel-scented things, but he doesn’t like the taste of it.

He has some insane dirt on Elias, and, of course, Hesh knows all of it.

For some odd reason, he’s phenomenal at parallel parking.

x david "hesh" walker

He loves movies. He can watch any genre! Horror? Great! Action? Love. Romance? Cute! Comedy? Perfect! He loves it all. Shows, however? Nope.

He takes pride in his nails being clipped and filed at all times. He was a nailbiter in his teens, so he cares about his nails more than he should today.

He can’t cook to save his life.

Eminem is his go-to artist. He loves and respects many artists, but Eminem will always be at the top of his list. He loves Stan.

He’s respectful in general.

He’s extremely secure and confident, yet he’s still pretty nervous when he talks to girls.

He loves long car rides. Driving around in his car while listening to his favorite songs brings out a unique joy in him.

He, unlike Logan, loves beaches! (He wasn’t the one who got sand thrown on him, so he’s thriving.)

He hates coriander.

x elias "scarecrow" walker

Unlike his son, Elias is great at puzzles! He’s disappointed Logan didn’t inherit that quality. He mourns it every day.

He loves pickles. (Same.)

He manipulated himself into liking beer many years ago.

People call him DILF all the time. It has happened too many times to count. He finds it funny, while Hesh and Logan are horrified every time.

He doesn’t know how to put on chapstick. He puts it between his lips and swipes it back and forth, not on his lips.

He got so much action when he was a teenager/young adult. He tells Logan and Hesh to “live a little” so they can experience that life, too.

He doesn’t listen to music often, but when he does, he listens to either Korn or Chris Isaak.

He adores Riley, sometimes stealing him from Hesh without warning.

x keegan russ

He secretly enjoys ASMR. It helps him unwind and de-stress, but not sleep, surprisingly.

He’s excellent at the game Mafia.

He has made way too many people giggle excitedly because of his voice. He finds it amusing but disturbing at the same time. He knows it’s attractive, but that many people? He has even made Elias giggle like a schoolgirl because of his vocal folds.

Keegan strikes me as a Slipknot fan. He finds Killpop and Vermillion to be sexy.

He loves grocery shopping.

He talks to himself a lot. He’s antisocial and quiet around others, but when Keegan’s alone, he keeps having full-on conversations with himself. Merrick caught him doing it once - he never brought it up again.

He enjoys lasagna a bit too much.

He had a motorcycle phase as a young adult. It got so bad he learned how to do a wheelie on them, but his love for them has died down in the many years he’s been alive.

He thinks wine is gross.

x thomas merrick

He cannot stand bananas. Everything about them makes him gag.

He gets such a rise out of being a bitch. He’s already annoying by default but strives to be even more insufferable for the fuck of it.

He, Alex, and Keegan smoke while being sentimental together at least once a month. (It’s always with Keegan and Alex - Elias, David, and Logan get left out.)

He listens to underground metal like Sold Soul, and he thinks it makes him superior to everyone else. (And he gatekeeps it.)

He’s immune to pretty much all physical pain except for waxing. It’s enough to make him cry.

He loved trains as a child.

His comfort song is Toxicity by System Of A Down.

His appetite is insane. This man can eat a horse and still be hungry by the end of it.

His calves are huge for some reason.

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cumikering · 2 months

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Werewolf Keegan x reader 6

2.6k | fluff, angst It didn’t end up like how it was supposed to (part 1) (part 7)

Keegan was officially Raider’s handler.

A single day in the field showed how proficient the K9 was, assisting in explosives detection and hostiles tracking. Coupled with Keegan’s seemingly ever-accelerating reflexes and sharper sight in the dark, they became a formidable pair, working in tandem on taking out opponents and clearing paths for their teammates.

The rest of the team appreciated Raider’s presence too, not only a service in the field, but also in the safe house during their down time, when he was in a good mood. He still didn’t like people for the most part, preferring to mind his own business chewing on things and shooting people dirty looks when he was bothered. Exactly like his handler, the team decided.

Keegan was lucky the toy phone he got didn’t squeak, or else Merrick would have shot it. He especially despised high-pitch noises.

He’s trying, really, but his thumbs are a bit short, he texted you, along with a picture of Raider on his belly, paws on his toy as they waited for their ride back home.

Can’t wait to see my fave boys!

He was flying back a day earlier than expected. You, however, had already made plans for a night out with your girls that Friday.

I’ll pick you up later. Don’t forget to take my gift and jacket.

He smiled to himself. My gift.

The morning after his rut, he’d made up his mind to come clean to you. Before his deployment, he gifted you a small push dagger with his initials engraved onto the handle - one of his favourites in his collection - as a commitment to himself.

He knew he couldn’t ride the whole ‘no label’ thing forever, and he didn’t want to either. There was no way around it: either you wanted him despite his terrible secret or you didn’t. His brain knew he shouldn’t be this scared of telling you, but even the slightest chance of you leaving made his stomach knot into a tangled mess.

So he gave himself a deadline. 30 days to grow the balls to tell you. 30 days to prepare himself of the possibility of never seeing you again, suffering the memory of his sweet peanut much longer than you were in his life.

But if you were to stay, which he desperately wished you would, he couldn’t even begin to think how ecstatic he’d be. He couldn’t wait for his team to meet you, the people the trusted the most, smiling at the thought of telling them how you met and how odd it was.

For years, Ajax poked fun at him for his seemingly permanent scowl, saying no woman would want to spare him a glance when he constantly looked offended, like one insulted his mother and his grandmother in the same sentence. Well, he could finally rub it in his face that his resting bitch face landed a beauty like you anyway. Perhaps Ajax should smile (and snore) less.

Hell, maybe soon enough he could take you home to his mum. He knew she would love you. In the future, she might even give her blessing in the form of an heirloom and finally stop worrying about his son dying miserable and alone.

He was still smiling to himself when he pulled up in front of the club, the moon full in the sky. When you saw him, you hurried over. You wore a sheer off-shoulder top paired with skinny jeans and heels, showing off your soft curves.He bit his lip. You were gorgeous and he knew you were going to smell amazing.

“Keegan!” You hugged him over the console.

“Hi, peanut,” he said lowly against your temple. Yes, you smelt fantastic. From the backseat, he pulled out a stalk of red rose.

You beamed, leaning in for a peck. He, however, had different thoughts in mind. He pulled you into a deep kiss, a hand on your waist, the other trailing up your arm.

Fuck. He punched way above his weight. He couldn’t believe he got to pick you up, touch you and kiss you, more than once.

“Oh, people are looking!” You pulled away and leaned into his neck, hiding your face as you let out a giggle.

He looked out the windshield, at the couple giving him dirty looks a few feet away. He smirked. He kind of liked that, he realised, when people knew you were with him. His.

As soon as the door to your apartment shut, with his hands on your waist, he backed you up against the wall.

“Missed you too much,” he said between hasty kisses.

It was easier to kiss you now with the added height from your pretty heels. You hummed, tugging on his hair as his lips trailed along your jaw and neck before abruptly stopping.

“Did someone touch you?” he growled. “Did a man touch you?” He didn’t need to ask. He could smell it on you, clinging on your skin like acrid smoke, tainting what was his.

“We were on the dancefloor. It was just the shoulder.”

“No one’s supposed to touch you.” He continued kissing your exposed collarbones and shoulder. “I told you to wear my jacket.”

“But it doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“I don’t care.” He nipped at your skin. “People need to know you’re mine.”

“Am I?” He heard the smile in your voice.

How dare he have the audacity to want you all to himself. It was his fault that he hadn’t made you his, that you went around thinking you weren’t. But he couldn’t keep you in the blind. You needed to know who he was entirely before he could, in good conscience, make you his.

He pressed against you, trapping you with his body with a hand under your chin, the other kneading your hip.

Mine.

He sucked and nipped and licked and savoured, his grip on you ever tightening as his chest heaved against yours. You hummed in delight as your hips bucked, breathless as you tried to keep up, hands roaming, pulling him closer by his belt loops.

Mine, mine, mine.

“Ow- OW!” You yelped.

He jerked away. You frowned as you brought your fingers to your lower lip. It was bloodied. His body ran cold as shame poured over him. He hurt you.

“I…“ He took a step back. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.” You reached for him, but he pushed your hand away, harder than he intended.

“I need to go.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

With that, he rushed to his car, heart racing. Hands grasping the steering wheel, an attempt to regulate his breathing, but the burning of his skin wouldn’t let him. He raced to the mountains, shifting in the bushes, giving him immediate relief from his scalding body before taking off to the top. He basked in the grace of the full moon as he ran and ran. Beneath his large paws, twigs and leaves crunched, the tension melting off his aching muscles.

The movement in the corner of his eye brought him to a screeching halt. He turned. It was a brown rabbit, ever bountiful in the expanse, but for the first time, it wasn’t merely a passing sight. It was an invitation, and he wanted a chase. Desperately.

With no hesitation, he took off and it didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to pin the rabbit down under his deadly claws. His nostrils flared, snarling as he leaned in, heart thumping from anticipation. The poor animal, like a deer in headlights, looked up the unforgiving predator with its doe eyes.

At the realisation of what he was about to do, he pulled away, the bunny scurrying away instantly. Wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat as he staggered back. His stomach turned in utter disgust as he raced to his clothes before shifting back. On his knees, his breath came in pitiful gasps as he stared at his trembling hands.

You said he didn’t mean it. But what if he did? What if he wanted to? What if your blood was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted?

The memory sent chills down his spine. What was happening to him?

After that night, Keegan went quiet. You didn’t know what happened, or if it was something you did. His texts had slowed to a few a day, hours apart. He was in town so he had no reason for his absence.

You’d asked multiple times if he was alright, demanding some sort of explanation, but his long awaited answers were dismissive, withdrawn. You felt more like a nuisance than joy to him, like you felt you once were.

Apparently, with him, it was too easy to forget where you stood. It took you a week to realise and accept that what you’d always feared was happening, like what always happened: he, too, decided you weren’t enough to settle down for.

You thought he was different. You wanted him to be different. When you let him kiss you, when you let him stay the night. As it turned out, it didn’t mean anything for him to leave the way he did.

It was glaring now, how he hadn’t let you meet any of his friends. What about those nights he was radio silent, only replying in the dead of night? It was one thing if he didn’t like you enough, but the thought of another woman made your stomach turn.

Suddenly, Keegan was a stranger. The secrets you shared didn’t feel sacred, the stories of his childhood told under the covers didn’t ring sweet anymore. Or that time he ran your hands over the scars of his beautiful body, and when your gaze locked and he held you like he was never letting go.

In moments like those, you witnessed how his lips parted, breath held, like he – you hoped – was finally going to say something about this, but always swallowed whatever it was at the tip of his tongue. It all felt like a trick of the mind.

No, you weren’t about to cry. You wouldn’t let yourself do that. You swore you never would again when someone you thought was special left at the first inconvenience. As if you weren’t worth enough to fight for, as if the moments shared were all in your head.

Were they? Your friends had warned you, that these military men were trouble – riddled with holes in their souls which might never heal up. Built different with no more space for sentiments, no one could make them change their mind except themselves.

It was your fault you didn’t press for exclusivity, for certainty. You knew he was closed up, probably heavy with baggage you couldn’t even fully comprehend, but you didn’t want to push him away. You were willing to wait for him. He was worth it, you thought. Yet it was your fault you got yourself hurt at the end. Always too worried about asking, for being too much, taking up the space you needed.

It was easier if he completely stopped texting, stopped pretending that he still wanted to have anything to do with you. He might as well block you, because how could you stop wanting more at this point.

You didn’t understand why you were so drawn to him from the start, the quiet, unsmiling man with the icy stare. Was it the eventual bloom of his smile, the way he whispered and purred into the phone those nights he was away? Or was it the way he held you, firm and strong, safe as he looked at you like he’d never say no to you?

That late Saturday afternoon, when you decided to stop moping around, you found yourself mindlessly walking too far from your neighbourhood. You sighed. A cup of hot chocolate sounded like exactly what you needed, but you didn’t want to be alone. Not that day.

You pulled up your contacts. You weren’t calling any one of your girls - seeing them would reduce you to a pathetic puddle of tears - especially not Lauren. You weren’t ready to tell her she was right all along.

You found yourself calling Blake instead. You’d texted occasionally, but never got to meet up again after Nick’s dinner. None the wiser about your heartache, he would make you feel normal even for a bit.

At the quiet coffee shop, he slid your drink across the table for two.

“I’m surprised you wanted to meet,” he said, his English accent gentle as he sat.

“Why would you say that?”

“Well… You never said anything about my gift.”

You frowned. “What gift?”

He let out an awkward chuckle. “The flowers? I sent them to your work.”

“Wait,” you said as realisation dawned on you. “The bouquet last month?”

He nodded.

“There was no sender, no card. I didn’t know it was you.”

“I did write you a card.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I figured when you didn’t say anything it was enough of an answer that you weren’t interested.”

“Oh, Blake.” Your shoulders sagged with guilt. “You know I would have said something if I knew it was you.”

A hopeful smile graced the Brit’s face as he met your gaze. “Does that mean- Can I take you out? I’d love to get to know you again.”

With his brown hair styled, perfectly trimmed stubble lining his sharp jaw, he was still as handsome as you remembered, still kind with his twinkling green eyes. Yet you felt nothing towards him.

“I can’t,” you breathed, the words heavy. “I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause before he swallowed. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“There’s… Someone I really like, but I don’t think I’m the only one.” You laughed humourlessly.

“Talk to him. You deserve your closure.” He let out an empathetic sigh. “If I’ve learnt anything from this, from you and I… I’m guilty of leaving like that, like there was nothing between us. It was unfair for you, and I owe you an apology.”

You didn’t want to, but your lips quivered.

“I wish I’d told you how much you meant to me, and that I’d been more daring about the things I wanted instead of just wishing for them to turn out.” A resigned smile flickered on his lips. “I think it would have been worth it.”

You choked out a sob. He dragged his chair next to you, pulling you into a bear hug. He rubbed your back as your tears spilt onto his shoulder.

You didn’t know you needed that. Blake soothed that little piece of you, you never knew was bruised. To know you meant enough for an apology even years after, even when the feelings were but a memory to you.

You deserved your closure.

“Thank you so much for saying that.” You pulled away, wiping your face with the serviette he handed you.

Your hot chocolates had long gone cold. It made you smile through your drying tears when he got two glasses of ice. Like those times you waited for your teas to cool as the both of you studied, but inevitably forgetting them entirely. He turned them into iced teas instead.

Even if it doesn’t become what you want it to, it can still be as nice, sometimes even better, he always said.

“Just like old times?” He raised his glass of iced chocolate.

“Just like old times.”

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @dead-cipher @shadowlali @reelovesfictionalmen @eve-lie

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astrabear · 3 months

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The man - middle-aged to strangers, oppressively old in his own mind, a baby to most of his friends - sat down by the woman's bedside. She was ancient by anyone's standards. He gently took her hand in his, noting the thin skin and swollen knuckles, fingers gnarled with scars. He didn't know if the strength he felt was actually in her hand or just in his memory.

"So," he said, his tone deliberately light, "I hear you yelled at Joe."

"I did."

"It's all right, he knows you didn't mean it."

"No, no I did that too." This surprised him; she could be fierce and harsh, but rarely spiteful or cruel.

"What'd he do?"

"To deserve it? Nothing."

"You said you meant it."

"I did mean it. Then. I wouldn't mean it now. I believed it, no I knew it then. But not now. Do you understand?"

"Sure, yeah, of course. You weren't feeling well. No one's upset at you." Which was true. Joe was devastated, but in a more general sense.

She clutched his hand, and he rejoiced to see that her strength was not just a memory after all. "No," she said, "not that. Do you understand?"

When he did not reply, she continued, "Being sick, it's not just pain. I forgot, and you've forgotten, but it's different. It does things to your head - "

"Andy, we know, no one blames you - "

"Let me finish. Sometimes I hate everyone who isn't sick, just because I hate being sick so much. It's a real thing, but it's not the only thing. I meant what I said when I said it, but I also love him."

"He knows that."

She let go of his hand long enough to slap it. "Idiot. I'm not talking about Joe. I'm talking about you and your son." The man seemed to stop breathing.

"If you can do it for me, you can do it for yourself and your boy. He meant what he said when he said it, when he was miserable and sick and dying. But I know now, I know that the hate and resentment weren't all he felt. It was a real thing, but not the only thing. Just like Merrick was a real thing about you, but not the only thing." She looked at him sharply, and he wondered what she saw in his face. "Will you at least think about it?"

He sighed. "I will. I promise I will."

He took her hand again, and long after she fell asleep he stayed there watching over her, both of them growing older, minute by minute, as time pressed on.

#the old guard #andromache the scythian #booker #sebastien le livre #my fic #been sick a lot myself lately #and I had some thoughts

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girlfromthecrypt · 3 months

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𝕊𝕦𝕔𝕙 ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤

[Interactive fiction, Demo TBA]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

You play as a counselor for the understaffed and underfunded Cloverleaf program. Your job is to organize and oversee a cabin camping holiday for children from troubled homes. Working hard alongside you are your four allies (and potential friends/lovers) Basil Laurier, Anita Merrick and the siblings Flo and Reem Malak.

Unfortunately, the campsite you're tasked with preparing is nothing short of decrepit. Still, you'll make the best of it, right? As you and your colleagues undertake repairs and cleaning efforts (and possibly get to know each other a little better), you keep finding yourself in increasingly unsettling situations.

But surely there's no reason to worry, right?

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Welcome to Camp Solace!

This picturesque cabin campsite is situated in the middle of nowhere, directly next to the beautiful Lake Solace and flanked by acres of woodland, far removed from the bustle of civilization. In fact, it'd take you quite a while to reach the nearest town in case of an emergency. You'd best make sure nothing goes wrong.

Camp Solace was established in the 1980s. In 2022, the site was bought out by the wealthy Laurier family who plan to overturn it to appeal to “a higher class of customers”. But not before offering it to the Cloverleaf program for the season, free of charge. The things people do for their public image…

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

For the duration of the holiday as well as its lengthy preparations and follow-up work, you will be relying on the support of your four closest colleagues.

Basil Laurier (M, trans, late twenties): The eldest son of the Laurier family. He's volunteering at Cloverleaf. Wealthy, though he tries not to seem it. Van-lifer, nature lover and dedicated spiritualist. Skilled craftsman. Enjoys building things and blowing them up after. Harmonious, cheerful and snarky.

Anita Merrick (F, mid twenties): Student of psychology doing her internship with the Cloverleaf program. Has a bachelor's degree in information technology. Smart, kind and chronically sleep-deprived. Enjoys a good book and fancy coffee. Certified softie. Easily scared (she's in for a bad time, the poor thing).

Reem Malak (F, early thirties): Music teacher, band guitarist and vocalist. Volunteering at Cloverleaf. Flo’s older half-sister. Also plays drums and percussion, sax, piano, bass… and bagpipes. Impulsive, passionate and energetic. Enjoys doing yoga and lifting weights. The cool girl. Very tall.

Flo Malak (M, late twenties): Martial arts teacher who gives classes for both adults and children. Also volunteering at Cloverleaf. Taekwondo, Krav Maga. Silent, kind and not without his quirks. Reem calls him “socially challenged”. Enjoys obscure media and monster movies. Even taller than his sister.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣

Your player character's age will be kept ambiguous, though it’s implied that you’re in same age range as the romance options (meaning your twenties to thirties).

Play as M, F or NB; gay, straight, bi, ace or keep your orientation undefined (Note: Such Happy Campers is very character-driven with a focus on romantic love and interpersonal connections).

Customize your looks and vibe; choose your strengths, personality and outfit!

#if: intro #if: wip #choice script #hosted games #interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #horror fiction #horror romance #original fiction #creative writing #writers on tumblr #horror writing #original writing #amwriting #original character #original characters #wip intro

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bloodyquillink-blog · 4 days

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Animals, CoD Ghosts HC’s

What animals/creatures are the Ghosts?

A/N🪶: These are just my options! Feel free to send me yours. These are for all the Ghosts, including former, deceased and current within the Ghosts game. This list will include Rorke, Ajax and Elias Walker. Also this is going to be formatted differently from the first HC, Natural Disasters.

David “Hesh” Walker - German Shepard

Hesh is loyal, probably to a fault. Willing to do whatever it takes to protect the ones he loves and get the job done, even if he gets injured in the process.

^ Bringing me to my next point, Hesh is very protective of his family. The mere idea of anyone getting hurt is enough to get this man baring his teeth and attacking.

In the Natural Disasters list, I mentioned that Hesh, according to Urban Dictionary, means courageous, another trait of German Shepards.

One more trait that applies is also Shepards, really any animal in general, being alert as well. This is a given, though, considering he is a soldier in active war zones especially with such effective and deadly enemies. He needs to make every second count and can’t afford to slack in these areas.

I should mention that Shepards are obedient yet stubborn. Hesh knows when to listen to his superiors but he’ll easily let you know when he doesn’t agree with something. Think about when Merrick, Keegan and Elias (mask on) picked them up and Hesh was yelling about their dad still being caught in the crossfire. Merrick got Hesh to sit his ass down but Hesh was clearly not happy about it, understandably.

Logan Walker - Mountain Lion

Mountain lions can’t roar and Logan can’t, or —depending on your headcanons, consciously chooses not to— talk.

Logan finds other methods of communicating, for example, when he and Keegan were about to bust into the room to get to Ajax, Logan used his fingers to count down.

The National Wildlife Federation website says “Mountain lions are territorial and solitary. They use pheromones and physical signs… to define their territory.” (Mountain Lion, Fun Fact.)

Mountain lions are known for being very stealthy predators, again a given considering the fact we’re talking about the Ghosts.

The Mountain Lion Foundation describes them as being relentless hunters which almost connects it to the wiki quote for Logan that calls him a cold-blooded killer and an excellent soldier (CoD Ghosts: Wiki, Logan Walker, Personality.).

Elias T. “Scarecrow” Walker - Black Bear

Scary but not as scary as you may expect.

While Elias is certainly ready to do his job at any point no matter how bloody, he still has his weak spots, that being his sons.

He’s caring but while be stoic when necessary. He’s not territorial but will protect his friends and family when the time calls for it.

Also one detail I find cute about bears is that they have DNA relation to dogs, albeit very distant. I like to call bears giant murder puppies :D

Thomas A. Merrick - Grizzly Bear

I want to say that grizzly bears are often considered to be more dangerous than black bears and more likely to attack if given a reason to.

Both grizzlies and black bears can charge but where black bears may shift away at the last second and avoid attacking, grizzlies may continue to charge and attack their target (once again I’m thinking about Merrick punching Rorke because it just makes me laugh, that man was not ready).

Of course, Merrick is dangerous but he knows when the time is and isn’t appropriate despite his temper. Merrick is a big dude too, so I think this works (“stocky”).

Gabriel T. Rorke - Polar Bear

Once he has his sights on you, you’re already gone.

Hehe, polar bears are mighty dangerous.

Polar bears are bigger and stronger sometimes, but other time grizzlies and polars can be about the same in build.

Polar bears are more likely to attack considering they have fewer resources for food and typically eat a lot as well.

Fun fact: Polar bears don’t hibernate.

^^^ Piggy backing off that, Rorke doesn’t seem to be resting. He’s always planning something, whether it be a plan B or future plans.

He’s a very large and commanding presence who will find alternatives when desperate, willing to do what he must to make sure his plans are completed.

Keegan P. Russ - Leopard

Fast, sneaky. You don’t know he’s there until it’s too late.

Fun Fact: Leopards can roar. Keegan, though very quiet, stills speaks and intimidates with his voice when necessary.

Leopard’s are solitary and ambush hunters, I don’t need to explain this but I will.

If you recall, Rorke had a lot of trouble getting his nasty ass hands on Keegan after kidnapping the Walker family and Merrick.

His first objective was to find Keegan. In my eyes, it’s because he knows that as long as Keegan is alive, Rorke isn’t safe.

Like many animals, leopards care for one another, seen with families. I think Keegan is a very caring person but he avoids showing it often, which is fair.

Keegan continuously checks in with Logan throughout the game. In the underwater mission, he made sure Logan was okay. If you look closely when walking behind Keegan on the submarine, Keegan turns his head back to us briefly.

Alex V. “Ajax” Johnson - Elephant

Ajax is smart and powerful, I want to say he’s very determined.

In the short time we knew him, he was very stubborn as well. He didn’t give up anything and held out for a while. Though he was a lower rank than the other characters.

In his last moments, he made sure the last Ghosts knew what was happening in a last ditch effort to keep them safe and aware.

It’s hard to pin down super specific traits due to the fact that elephants can exhibit many and there’s not much we can give to Ajax.

I want to say that Ajax was more laid-back with his friends and comrades, leaving his bold energy for those who don’t deserve his respect ( insert the iconic scene where Ajax puts up his middle finger right at the Federation soldier ).

Like all the animals and characters on this list, Ajax was dangerous when necessary. He wasn’t spending every moment trying to be scary or intimidating or anything. He’s confident in himself and his abilities and he doesn’t need anyone else to speak up for him.

The respect we hear given to him by the Ghosts after his death was well deserved.

Love you, Ajax <3

Kick - Monitor Lizard

Some kind of reptile (I was so tempted to put him as a Gila Monster but I can’t do that to my best boi).

I’d say probably a water monitor.

These lizards, which can grow to 9 feet btw, don’t surprise their prey, but “actively pursue” them.

While these creatures have venom, but it’s not necessarily fatal.

Kick is definitely dangerous when he’s needed but it’s not like a “I am the grim reaper.” type of thing, it’s more like “I have a job to do and you won’t be in my way.”.

These creatures are known for being intelligent which lines up with Kick’s likely (not confirmed?) role as an information specialist.

The main thing that doesn’t quite line up is the fact that water monitors can be friendly whereas Kick is, if not more stand-offish, then solitary. I do imagine that he eventually opens up, but he’s definitely more comfy with his computers.

Neptune - Owl

I imagine that Neptune, being one of the original Ghosts, is very wise, though more subtle. I can’t think of what kind of owl he’d be, maybe snowy.

I mostly just wanted to include him here. Feel free to add onto him.

Riley… Riley

The most dangerous creature ever, himself.

World’s Best Throat-Snatcher over here being a cutie patootie with blood on his maw. 10/10 best boi.

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tokillamockingbird427 · 2 months

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Pffff dumb idea for Captain Dads: Price doesn’t realize that Logan and Hesh are Elias’s literal biological sons because Elias treats all the Ghosts (Even Merrick) the same way he does them. 100% in a parent/dad way, definitely affectionate, but still a CO.

As for why he didn’t realize due to last name… Elias goes by Elias. David goes by Hesh. Logan goes by Logan. None of them go by Walker. And tbh Price didn’t really *need* to know their last names, so he didn’t bother.

So when he realizes this Captain (Who Price likes a decent amount early on due to him refusing to play fuck-fuck games even if he’s more polite about it) (Who has also been flirting with him) (Who has eyed his ass on several occasions like a cat about to smack a cup off a table) (Who Price does not mind as much as other people because he can shut the fuck up) has two grown ass sons (ON THE TEAM HE CAPTAINS!) he’s just bamboozled by it.

(Not that he’ll admit it.)

And he finds out because Elias does the Elias Typical thing of “Hey I’m gonna talk about my kids.” And Price first finds out that Elias has kids +wife?! And THEN that his kids are the those two goofs with the dog.

#call of duty #call of duty ghosts #call of duty modern warfare #elias walker #captain john price #captain dads #hesh walker #logan walker

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whatisr3alityy · 11 months

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#sketch #marble hornets #art #artist #artwork #digital art #marble hornets fanart #mh jay merrick #eyeless jack #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta #grey #sketches #darrian is slender man's son

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89845aaa · 7 months

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ardenwritesegos · 3 months

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Starlight

Warning: Verbal abuse

Another day, another bout of chaos. Dark should know to expect nothing less from the Ipliers. All the more reason for a daily evaluation. If he didn’t, the mansion would likely burst into flames. Hell, it nearly did at one point. Damn Wilford and his ability to summon flame throwers at will. No matter. There were far more important things to dwell on. Or rather, far more important people.

The being continued through the halls of the manor, entering room after room. The Googles were searching their online systems for useful information. Dr. Iplier was organizing yet another stack of files detailing the egos’ medical accidents. Everything seemed to be in order. At least, for the time being.

The creature was soon finished with his inspection, moseying down the hall to his office. As they did, however, one of the doors opened. Someone exited from it in a rush. Eric Derekson. The shy Iplier held a stack of paper tightly in his arms, muttering something to himself. In his hurry, Eric practically rammed into Dark. The documents flew out of his hold, scattering in different directions. As Derekson looked up, the being could see the terror in his face.

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Eric stuttered quickly.

“I was trying to memorize my script for today, and–”

“Stop,” Dark interrupted, attempting to be as calm as possible.

Typically, the being would have no issue striking fear into the egos to keep them in line. This one, however, wasn’t like the others.

Derekson did not contain the outward confidence or fearlessness of an Iplier. He was fragile as an egg, flinching at the slightest sound. The ego could barely speak without questioning every word. It was almost a saddening sight. Almost. “No harm has been done,” the being reassured Eric. The mist of their aura picked up Eric’s papers, handing the stack to Derekson. “You should find them in order,” Dark explained as the other checked his documents. The shy Iplier looked on in confusion, not seeming to expect the kindness. Dark couldn’t blame him. Not with the demon’s reputation in the manor.

“Th-Thank you,” Eric said quietly, a bit calmer.

“You’re welcome,” the creature responded. “Now, go. Derek is surely waiting for you.”

“Yeah...right,” Derekson ran along to his errand. Dark couldn’t help but notice an extra shakiness from Eric at the mention of his father. Something about that was all too familiar to the being.

My Starlight

They shook it off, returning to his room. It wasn’t their problem to solve.

[Meanwhile]

The creature sat at their desk, sorting another week’s worth of incidents from Dr. Iplier. As usual, it was a mountainous pile. However, Dark didn’t find it to be too much. He could get through papers like this rather quickly, after all. Before Dark could continue, he was interrupted by yelling that boomed from across the hall. The being knew all too well where it was coming from. They made their way across the hall, stopping midway at a door. On it was a poorly-constructed sign, reading Derekson Studio. Screaming continued from behind the door. Dark focused, until they could see the inside.

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this!” Derek boomed at the timid ego.

“All ya gotta do is say some lines for stuff that practically sells itself,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple for everyone.

“What dontcha understand?!”

“I-I-I,” Eric stuttered, shaking harder than a leaf. “M-Maybe I’m just not-just not cut out for this,” he began to fidget with the orange towel in his hand. Derekson always seemed to have that cloth near him. None of the others ever knew why, nor did they care enough to ask. “ If you asked my brothers, they-they’d say the same thing,” Eric added. “Merrick would–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Derek interrupted, instantly silencing his son. “You think I wouldn’t rather have Merrick do this?!” he boomed. “But he ain’t here, so you’re the only option I got!” Eric cowered more with each word. “So just get up there and get it together!” At those words, Dark was sent into one of the soul’s memories.

A little boy was with his father, practicing for a speech, his first as class president. Like Eric, the child struggled to get the words out. For every mistake, his dad forced him to start over. The father quickly became more aggravated with each stutter or lengthy pause.

“Get it together, boy!” the parent barked. “How are you going to be a politician if you can’t speak to a crowd?!” the boy had previously voiced his desire to be a leader of some kind. He wanted to help people in any way he could. In his mind, politics seemed like the best way to do that. At the time, however, he felt as if he wasn’t cut out for it.

“B-but, everyone will be staring at me,” the child stammered, hands restless in their folded position.

“That’s the point!” the man’s voice could be heard throughout the house. Maybe even the neighborhood. Regardless, the boy knew nobody would say a word. The man of the house had to keep order, after all. “What about that do you not understand?!”

“I understand, but–” the child mumbled, on the verge of tears.

“Then act like it and say the damned words!” the father swore.

With a shake of their head, Dark was brought back to reality. Noise like that could not be tolerated. It was a distraction that could lead the entire manor off-track. He opened the door, immediately silencing Derek. The man may have been too stubborn for his own good, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that this being was not to be messed with.

“Hello, Derekson,” Dark greeted the father with his usual cold indifference.

“Uh…hello there, boss,” one could practically see the sweat dripping off the salesman.

“What brings you here?”

“You have caused a bit of noise, Derek,” the creature folded their arms behind their back.

“S-so sorry, sir,” the father apologized. “I was just,uh, trying to motivate my son, here,” he put an arm on Eric’s shoulder, causing the boy to flinch.

“I highly doubt that shouting is adequate motivation,” they said, matter-of-factly.

“Well actually, it works quite well for–”

“Could you leave the room for a moment?” Dark asked, interrupting Derek.

“What?” Derek responded, face freezing in confusion.

“I would like to speak with Eric, alone,” the being ordered calmly, yet somehow also firmly.

“But sir, he doesn’t do good on his own,” Derek protested, clearly trying hard not to burst out in anger.

“He will not be by himself, Derek,” Dark reassured, voice still emotionless. “Now, run along,” the creature ordered. “A new shipment was warped in for you.”

“Uh…Yes sir,” the father said after several moments of hesitation. As the door clicked shut, Dark made their way towards the boy. He remained in front of the green screen, shaking like a leaf, sure that he was in trouble. The being stopped in front of him.

“You are not in trouble, Eric,” the creature reassured, able to hear Derekson’s thoughts.

“I’m-I’m not?” he asked, as if he wasn’t used to such a statement. Dark feels a tugging in his chest at that.

“Derek was the cause of that...noise, not you,” they sighed, careful with their choice of words. The boy was already overwhelmed. He didn’t need to magnify the situation.

“But…he did that because of me,” Eric looked down in shame, hands repeatedly wringing around his orange cloth. Dark could see tears starting to form in the boy’s eyes. “If I hadn’t m-messed up my lines, he would-wouldn’t have had to–”

“You didn’t make him do anything,” the being blurted out, no control over their words. They wanted to move away, but found their aura keeping them in place. While they couldn’t see the color of it, they could tell which one it was. Dammit! Fully under the blue soul’s control, the being put their arms around Derekson. The blue soul then pushed a calming aura into Eric. All at once, the boy’s tension disappeared. His muscles eased. The mental swarming in his head went silent, allowing him to, for once in his life, think clearly. Eric returned the hug, wrapping the creature in a nearly choking embrace. He looked up at Dark.

“Why…” Derekson paused, sniffling away the remains of his tears. “Why does he hate me?” The blue soul remembered asking that exact question.

A young boy clings to his mother, crying his little eyes out. Father is not around, so he can do so without getting disciplined.

“Mother, why does he hate me?!” the child choked out.

“Because he is a fool, starlight,” the woman, the boy’s mother, replied softly. “Anyone would be well-off knowing you,” she rubbed soothing circles into the boy's back.

“But…he says I cry too much,” the boy weakly argued.

“Because he has the emotions of a doll,” the mother scoffed. Her warm gaze remained directly on her son. “You, my dear, are a wonder.”

“Because he has the empathy of a mannequin,” the being responded, answer still out of his control.

“It’s-it’s not his fault, though,” Eric stumbled out. “I mean, everyone else died-”

“That is no excuse for a man to treat his child like that,” the blue soul interrupted. The blue in his aura grew brighter with every second of rage. “His only remaining child, no less…” the soul took a calming breath, trying again to keep his composure in front of the already overwhelmed boy. Eventually, his light was no longer blinding. Regardless, it remained lit like a halo; a comforting, guiding light. Eric couldn’t help but stare. In that gaze, the soul saw the innocence of his past. The kindness. The plea for someone to listen.

The weakness.

The soul’s control was ripped from him in an instant. Dark blinked hard, blue outline once again blending with red and gray. The creature quickly but gently removed their arms from Eric, moving them behind their back.

“I will speak to Derek about his…” Dark paused, searching for a careful word.

“Behavior. Mistreatment of employees, related or otherwise, will not be tolerated in this manor,” The being walked towards the door, but stopped before turning the knob.

“And Eric,” Dark turns slightly to look at Derekson.

“Yeah?” Eric forced the word out of his mouth. This Dark was drastically different from the Dark of moments ago.

“If you should need advice on public speech, I have prior experience that could be to your benefit,” Dark suggested.

“But be sure to advise me beforehand.”

“Really? Uh, thanks,” Eric wrung the fabric in his hand like he was getting water out. This time, however, it wasn’t completely out of nerves. With that, the creature exited, on his way to have a few choice words with Derek.

#markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #darkiplier #eric derekson #father-son esque relationship #this is not me shipping them!#I will protect this parental relationship with my soul!#This was in my online documents for over a year #and I finally got the motivation to finish it #puppeteer with a pencil #cw verbal abuse

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