#cod ghosts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Note

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

4K notes · View notes

aupoe · 8 months

Text

Nighttime stress

Pairing: Keegan x F!Reader. Warning: Nsfw, Somnophilia, Porn with plot, Breeding kink, Body worship, Praising, Pervert Keegan, English is not my first language, Keegan is a simp for us, Nakadashi, Obsessive Keegan. Words count: 3.5k Pic credit: @/callsignmint on tt

Keegan knew he was fucked.

Waking up in the middle of the night with his cock painfully brushed against the top of his pants. The tip was leaking precum forming a wet patch that could easily be noticed without the lights even on. There was so little stimulation that with each shifting of his legs, Keegan let out a deep groan from the way the cotton pressed down harder on his sore, redden, sensitive tip. He swore he could cum right at that moment when the fragments of the dream slowly pieced together in his brain. You looked so gorgeous, wet and inviting as Keegan felt his cock twitched at the thoughts.

Being a gentleman as he was. Keegan usually scrambled to the bathroom to jerk off with his little fantasy about you. Hands going up and down in frustration in hope to recreate the feeling of having your cunt wrapped tightly around his member, squeezing out each seed Keegan only had for you. Sometimes he let his cock get the better of him, making him just start humping onto the pillow as his eyes rolled back into his skull from pleasure.

But how could Keegan control himself when the first thing he saw while sitting up was your soft, peaceful body next to his.

Wearing only panties and his shirt which hung onto your body for dear life because of how tiny you're in comparison to his figure. The sight was so inviting that Keegan gulped down his watery mouth unconsciously. The sleeves were pulled down onto your forearms as your left breast spilled out and Keegan welcomed the sight of it very very much. The bottom of the shirt was pushed up, revealing your tummy that he constantly kept his hands on for no particular reason. He loved the texture, the softness so much that it became his stress ball once he got home from work. Oh to be able to hold it right now, Keegan could faint from the pleasure.

He let his eyes wander before moving downward, staring at your thighs and the little panties that worked its best to keep your cunt from spilling out the side. Those thighs that he repeatedly requested to lay on or even better, squished between now were bare for only him to see. He remembered the time when he could kiss them, bite them, show them his love and desires as he held you down from squirming away from pleasure. It was and will forever be his greatest achievement, marking you up with bites after bites, kisses after kisses when your eyes rolled back into your head, tongue stuck out so he could lean in and kiss you 'till his heart content.

All those horny thoughts only worsened his condition right now as Keegan felt his cock twitch violently. He groaned as he moved slowly to sit up on your left. He watched as your chest raised up and down steadily, taking in as much air as you wanted, completely oblivious to how hot and bothered your boyfriend was. That face, that innocent, peaceful face, Keegan swore he could just jerk off to your sleepy face with no issue and smeared his cum across your puffy lips, or maybe tried to push them. In which, your hot tongue would obediently licked his cum off his fingers and sucked on them greedily like how he always praised you for.

In the back of his mind, he can hear the sound of multiple strings snapping while leaning in closer to your unconscious body. Keegan flicked his tongue, letting out a string of curse words as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It's almost like you had him under a leash, like a damn horny dog he was. The more he tried to reason with himself, the more the situation got worse.

You also want this, right?

He knew how your brain worked. How many fanfictions you had read about this scenario. How you talked about it with great interest and hid your phone away when he tried to take a peak. He was a gentleman and forever would, if you asked nicely, with your eyelashes fluttering and a reddened cheeks, he would pin you down, kiss your knees and give you the pleasure you always crave for. But the fact that you tried to keep this side hidden from his naked eyes made him even more furious. Maybe it's just the way his horny brain worked right now but for the first time, he felt scared.

Why distance your true self from him?

Was he such a terrible lover?

Has he not showered you with enough love?

Or maybe he was that bad of a fucker that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him? Was his dick not satisfying you enough?

Therefore, he promised to worship you better tonight. Or just to have a reason to fuck you dump tonight.

He was shaking when he leaned down closer to your face. Keegan could barely brush your cheeks or hair like he normally would, not because you’re fragile, a porcelain doll like how you would call you, but in fear of waking you up. Keegan swallowed his saliva before pressing his lips on your forehead. He could feel the heat inside of him quickly transfer to your body when his lips connected to your skin. Gosh, he wished that he could spread the heat onto your skin, making your sweats dripped down to the bed, rolling out of your chest as Keegan held you closer to his chest.

Trembling, he moved down onto your lips. Keegan sealed your lips away with a tender delicious kiss. He wanted to push his tongue in, dance around while pushing his saliva in and watch them trickle down from the corner of your mouth. That was his greatest pride. Yet, he let out a hiss as he forced himself to lean back, holding back his desire, dumping them down his throat in order not to wake you up. He was in so much pain, yet for you, he would suffer for eternity.

As he moved downward, planting various feathering kisses like how you would tease him every time to your neck, collarbones, each of your breasts, tummy, navel. He swore, your skin was so soft that he wished to bite down and mark every inch of your body, taking in the sensation of having your legs around his back, caging him and edging him to go deeper and deeper. You were his drug, his addiction and he would happily comply. When his mouth reached your black panties, Keegan bit down onto the middle and pulled the polyester down to your kneecaps while keeping his eyes on your face, stopping every so slightly when your eyes twitched. Keegan took the black panties in his hand, rubbing the fabric like second nature only to find your slick covering his fingers. The moment his eyes laid on the sight, air quickly escaped his lungs in a sharp gasp. The wet, sticky substance heightening his sense along with the bulge that greedily grinds against the bed sheet as he pocketed the panties for later. His cock was already dripping wet, precum leaking from the top as he wished it was your hot watery mouth that wrapped around his dick, rather than the cold sheet on both sides of his thighs.

“Fucking hell…” Keegan slurred, shaking his head to keep himself focused on the task. He trailed quick kisses from the feet to your inner thighs. His strong biceps that he trained for hours on end now served its greatest purpose, to hold your thighs apart so he can taste your alluring cunt.

Keegan brought out his tongue, giving your folds a kitten lick before blowing air into your cunt. He watched as your body shivered and chuckled to himself. You’re so hopeless and it’s feeding into his brain, nurturing the desire to fuck you dumb, using you like a cocksleeves exactly how you would beg him to. Keegan thoroughly pushed his index and middle fingers through your puffy lips, he tugged and turned so that a good layer of your saliva could be seen once he drew his fingers out. With his left hand, Keegan formed a V shape with his fingers to spread your cunt apart, taking in the sight your walls contracted, matching his own breathing rhythm. Keegan pushed his fingers in slowly and your hot, humid walls immediately responded to the sudden invasion by squeezing him harder, making him suck a breath in, almost whimpering due to how delicious your tight hole was milking him in.

With his fingers scissoring in, stretching your entrance out, his tongue lap around the clit, circling, sucking and biting down on it just to see your body tremble from pleasure. He drank on your juice, letting it drip over and covering half his face while he fucking his tongue in, lapping on every juice that spilled out of your pussy. He made himself a thirsty man, dumb on drinking you up like his finest meal in the middle of the night. Keegan was mesmerized by the taste, salty but yet so sweet like how he had always daydream about. His icy blue watched as your thighs shaken, as he was reaching his own climax. He held both your legs open, keeping his left hand on your thigh, the other holding down on your stomach, pushing it downward as his thumbs rub against your clit. The deeper his tongue reached, the rougher he became and a rhythm was found with his hip thrusting into the sheet underneath him.

Until he noticed that your walls were clenching more so often that he pulled himself out of you. Keegan wanted you to cum on his cock, not tongue for tonight. Huffing, he looked down and to his surprise, his cock slowly sprang up again, slapping against his stomach as if he didn't just leave a trail of cum shot on the bed a second ago. The white trail led from his knees to almost reaching your cunt. While he was familiar with the sight of his transparent, almost liquid-like cum dripping down from your cavern, to see how thick, chunky and white it was tonight could explain how long he had went without your pussy milking him to the verge of tears.

As much as Keegan wanted to eat you out throughout the night, he, himself, could not control the itching and soreness of his cock, having to cum dry as he gave it a few strokes. Hissing ever so slightly, teeth clenched together each time his thumb touched the angry tip. With a quick, smooth stroke, he pushed the foreskin downward as it stood in its glory. The member was a combination of length and thickness, with a pink mushroom tip and a little bump in the middle that could deliciously brush against your G-spot everytime he pushed himself deeper, or bottomed out.

Keegan knew that his size was larger than what you're used to, it's proven its power every single time he can get his cock inside of your tiny, small, delicious little cunt. Keegan made it his life long mission to make you feel good on his cock, and only on his. He would whisper praise after praise as he had nothing but sweetness to offer you while his hand ran down your body, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, addicted to the feeling of your skin spilling out between his fingers.

Carefully, Keegan lined up his dick with your entrance, his left hand spread your cunt out for him as he watched himself sinking in, slowly disappearing into you.

“Agh, fuckfuckfuckfuck…..” Stream of curse words fell out of his mouth as the tightness and hotness of your cunt made his brain freeze. The contrast between the cold bedroom and your warm walls result in a speechless Keegan. He fell onto his forearms on either side of your head while biting his lips in an attempt to keep himself silent. He knew how his whimpers and moans did to you, and he was afraid that you might wake up to the sight of him so sensitive that he could not push himself any deeper inside of you.

Keegan sinked his weight down on your body, pushing it deliciously against the mattress when the heat of our body sent electric shots to his brain. Thus making him clench down on his teeth, face buried into the middle of your chest. His lips opened and closed, kissing and sucking the spot lightly as he rolled his hips until he finally felt himself fully inside you. His angry cock throbbed, he could feel the veins brushed against your humid pussy, making you clench down even harder. In which, making him feel even more dumb and horny.

His pace wasn't slow, yet wasn't fast as a result of his mixed up brain. On one hand he wanted to brutally fuck you stupid, while the other was scared that he could hurt you.

He slowed down, bottomed out and pulled his cock out only to witness the of your cunt getting oh so attached to his dick that your meat was dragging off outside with a loud ‘pop’, as if begging not be departed from his cock. Keegan immediately slammed back in without hesitation as he slurred. Mouth watered as he pushed himself forward to trade some of his saliva with yours, mixing them up like cocktails in your mouth before slurping them back down his throat.

Keegan got himself into a rhythm of just bottoming out, slamming in that he found himself lost in pleasure yet again. The pace got rougher and rougher as he pushed your body upward, back arched up like you were inviting him to destroy your inside. You accommodated him so well, so responsive that he suddenly felt doubt that you're faking your sleep. Because how could you possible asleep with how he was fucking you right now. The room was filled with skin slapping sound, your cunt made a sloppy sound when his dick came back in, the air was humid with the addicting sex smell and the bed cricket ever so slightly.

His cock continued stretching you out, molding your pussy into a shape that could take in whatever he gave you. Keegan dreamt of rearranging your inside so that he could forever pinning you down and slid your panties off easily like this. His cock would be kissing your cervix again and again. At some point, he was thrilled to think that it might open up widely soon so that he can dump his cum inside while you continuously sucking them in. Your juice overflew, forming a delicious white base around the base of his cock as he watched your cunt flutter open for him. While the tip was teasing your cervix, his little bump in the middle was doing its magic while constantly stimulating your G-spot. Sometimes, he caught your moaning and panting. If he was the person 5 minutes ago, he would slow down but now, he would love to take that risk. Maybe the sight of you waking up to the sudden soreness of your core, eyes filled with shock then shifted into the back of your head when he slammed back in, rocking your body backward had him giggling to himself like a madman.

His cock exited and entered thus his thrust became more and more sloppy. Keegan could feel his climax in the back of his mind as he held you closer, one hand on your back, pressing your chest onto his as he pounding on your faster and faster than before his cock vibrated violently inside of you.

"Agh… yes yes, t-taking me in so well, sweetheart. You're so good~... " Keegan slurred as his seed, thick and creamy, spilled out of his cock started to fill you up, painting your wall luscious white. He rolled his hips a bit more, despite his exhibition in an attempt to keep all his semen in your small and tight pussy before pulling out. His hand caressed your tummy as he felt it swell from how much cum he stuff you with as he leaned down to kiss it.

"Oh, fuck fuck so good, so goddamn good" Keegan hissed as he tried to regain his compulsory and release your body reluctantly. The way he laid you down so gently was a great contrast to the man that pounded on you like an animal minutes. But Keegan was so wrong, thinking that this might be the end because the moment he saw your cunt made a slurp sound before dropping globs (?) after globs of semen onto the mattress got his dick hard again.

"Fuck this shit, you did this on purpose right? Got me fucking under your spell right, doll?~" He groan, a moan of both frustration and pleasure as he hold your body up, turning your around. Your face was pushed into the pillow and his arms pulled your ass up for him. The sight was so lewd and he was fucking glad to be the only one to witness your body getting destroyed without you noticing. How could anyone imagine that the tough, cold, icy soldier was such a whore for his lover at night? Drinking in their sight or maybe kissing the foot that they step on him.

His cock throbbed back alive as the sight registered into his brain, transmitting the horny sensation back down to his dick. Giving it a stroke while leaning downward, Keegan kissed your cunt. His tongue moved carefully to collect off the dripping seed in order to push them back inside of you again. He took a big suck in your clit, leaning back not without releasing it with a big, vulgar 'pop'. With one hand holding your ass up, Keegan gathered his saliva and spit on your cunt as well as his cock. He tapped your entrance with his tipped lightly before sinking back in.

" ‘m-… god, you're still s-so tight doll" Keegan groaned as he held you by the tummy. His head buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling every single scent that you offered him, the other snaked around to hold onto your hip.

This time he didn't feel shy anymore as he start his pace strong and forward. With each slapped of his balls against your ass, he could feel the bulge on your stomach reappeared and disappeared. His hand pressed down on it more and more aggressively as the pace picked up.

His semen and your juice now join together in your tiny cunt that he loved so much. His dick glided effortlessly in and out, yet, didn’t exclude the power and strength. Each thrusts brought out a delicious moan from you that made his brain go mush so completely. Though your body had grown familiar with his animalistic thrust, the juice wasn't, as it still flowed out of your holes each time he went deeper. It glided down from your inner thighs to the sheet, or maybe just dropped down like rain. Either way, the sight only fed into Keegan's mind, edging him to manhandle you more often.

Because would you look at that? Your body was so weak and fragile, pressing against his abs and solid build. He flipped you over and carried you around like a doll while your face remained the pure and naive look, getting more and more horny the more he kissed your cervix with his dick. When you rapidly squeeze around him again, Keegan rasped and pounded as deeply as possible, mouthing at the crook of your neck, kissing all the previous marks that he left on you when he got home. His cock tilted up as he readjusted himself so his hip had the best angle to get you dump. Drools dropped down from the corner of your mouth as the spine of his dick scraped onto your G-spot again and again.

“Look what a lovely mess you’re for me~” He melted on top of you as he kissed off the sweat that trickled from his chest to your back, cleaning you off or just coating you with a layer of his saliva from inside to out. His hand around your tummy tightened as he reached his high, hips sloppily thrust in. Keegan let out a cry of satisfaction when another pump of his loads got released inside of you as your body happily sucked them into the cervix.

Keegan breathed out slowly as his eyes went watery from how overstimulated himself was for you. He kissed the back of your neck again when laying you down, spooning you in his hand. Chest touching your back in a position that he deem would protect you from the outside world threats but not to his thirst for you.

Keegan smiled happily and intertwined their legs together, he brushed your wet hair away from your face. His cock still buried deep inside as he mumbled praises after praises in his sleep.

What a simp..

#keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan smut #cod keegan #cod ghosts #smut #cw somnophilia

2K notes · View notes