#just like russ because he is nice

[machveil]

CoD Headcanon: Fashion

let me info dump on how I think the CoD men would dress, pretty puh-lease? Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Keegan Russ, and König

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

actually wanted to make this post because of him, “Thank you, Kyle.”, we all say in unison

I oh so desperately think he dresses so casually it looks clean as fuck. he’s definitely the best dressed out of the 141, in my opinion. going for groceries? meeting up at a pub? Kyle looks great! also, bottom left photo? holding true to the board, I firmly believe Kyle has totes - different colors, some with logos, a couple well used and loved. totes and caps, Kyle has a nice collection

my fun little headcanon is that Kyle will match his outfits to whatever hat or tote he plans on using for the day. and he has a wardrobe to match - t-shirts, button ups, jumpers, turtlenecks, Kyle has variety. a lot of them are gifts from his family (who have his fashion sense down to a science). his aunts and uncles definitely pay the most attention to what Kyle’s wearing whenever they see him, they never miss when buying him new jeans or shoes

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

as fearsome and intimidating as Ghost is, draped in military gear and holsters, Simon prefers to be comfortable. a majority of his civvies are for his comfort, soft and warm jumpers that bag a little. he keeps it simple, his signature black clothes are really the only thing that carries over from service. that said, I think he’d look good in brown too. still a noticeably darker color compared to most, but it gives a nice contrast to his usual monotone look

it might seem counterintuitive to wear long sleeves when he’s had all this tattoo work done on his arms - fair enough - but I don’t think Simon necessarily cares to show them off. he has his fair share of t-shirts, but he really only wears them when it’s exceptionally warm out. that, or Simon has them on as an undershirt at the gym, hidden beneath his black hoodies. does the 141 poke fun at him for dressing nearly all black every time they see him? yes they do, does Simon care? no, he’s a sucker for a dark aesthetic

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Johnny dresses like he’s ready to go to the gym, but it’s why we love him. I swear, it could be freezing outside and Johnny would be wearing short, he’s definitely one of those people, “Hm? Nah, m’not cold.”, he’s actively trying to not let his teeth chatter. Johnny loves a good hoodie, especially if they have drawstrings - this man has an oral fixation, let him chew on those strings, damnit! oftentimes the drawstrings on his hoodies are fucked up and thready because he’ll absentmindedly nosh on them

I’m not afraid to say he’s the closest on this whole headcanon post to dressing like Adam Sandler - there’s definitely been times he wore the rattiest clothes ever outside and people mistook him for being homeless. the nicest thing he’ll consider wearing out is a t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. I think Johnny’s a little nose blind to his own scent, sometimes he’ll think a hoodie is clean but he forgot he sweated his ass off in it two days ago at the gym. puts it on because… well, it just smells like him, surely it doesn’t reek

John Price:

I had such a hard time finding photos that matched my thoughts, but when I found them? oh, these matched. I’d like to call Price’s look “blue collar husband comes home after work” - do we get that vibe? simple man, he likes his blue jeans and a plain shirt. has a wide variety of nice, leather belts though, the only bit of his wardrobe he really splurges on. the simplest out of the 141, but he cleans up nicely with just a shirt and some jeans that hug his thighs just right

he’s a fan of t-shirts, the fact they show off his biceps is purely coincidence. he low-key dresses like a dad, but he rocks the look. he’s definitely the type to have vintage leather jackets, beat up, brown coats that are durable. they’ve seen better days, were new and shiny once, but John likes them a little weathered and worn. he’s not beating the bucket hat allegations

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

I’d love to say ‘I don’t make the rules’, but I do. I’m putting my foot down and saying Gary dresses like this. he always wears a white t-shirt, is it the same one? does he have dozens? who knows! he’ll causally swap between pants and shorts, whichever is appropriate for the weather. button ups, he owns so many. never buttons them, just wears them open over his t-shirts. it’s casual, but the simplicity of it unironically makes his outfit look super clean

Gary will dress this way until the day he dies. it’s just how he dresses, no variation unless there’s an important event - holidays, an army shindig, I dunno, a wedding (if he could, he’d show up in his usual civvies). you would have to beg Gary to try a different style, he’s silently stubborn about it. he doesn’t make a fuss if you buy him a hoodie or sweater, just know he’ll throw a quiet strike by tucking it into the back of his closet

Keegan Russ:

biblically accurate Keegan Russ is a biker, what can I say. two words: leather jackets. he likes the aesthetic, owns a handful - hand-me-downs, thrifted, vintage, new. a majority of his wardrobe is black, I personally think his favorite color is blue, but he enjoys wearing black more. he likes wearing t-shirts, purposefully showing off his well-trained arms. he really only owns jeans, maybe a pair of nice slacks

you know what? gonna be honest, not much to add on, I just think Keegan is hot and would wear this haha. it’s nothing flashy, but if you’re into bikers it’s definitely eye catching. on another note, I think he’d paint his nails matte black. do I have any reasoning? no, I just think he would, or maybe just a clear coat. that, and he definitely wears silver rings. not all the time, but he does wear them on occasion

König:

if König isn’t in fatigues he still looks blatantly military. now, I didn’t include it in the board, but he has way too many pairs of khaki cargo pants. like an absurd amount - imagine a reasonable number of cargo pants and then add ten more pairs. back to the board, man cannot escape camouflage and green in general. whether it’s pants, shirts, or sweaters, König has it in some shade of green

otherwise, he actually enjoys itchy, scratchy sweaters. you know the kind that makes your skin red after wearing it a little too long? König eats that up, for whatever reason it feels nice to him. course, he does have standard, comfortable sweaters and hoodies. it’s a bit of a hassle to find clothes in his size though, sure they make them big, but König would appreciate if they were more fit to his build than overly baggy. lucky for him, his mama was a seamstress and taught him how to sew - he adjusts his clothing as he sees fit (he’ll still grumble about it though)

manifesting just one CoD man into being so I can play dress up with them🎀✨pretty please, I just wanna make him look so good - Soap and Roach might put up a fight though…

thanks for reading my behemoth of a post<3 hugs and kiss🌸✨

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

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:

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[ohcroculus]

it's a boy or a girl? ── CALL OF DUTY MEN

included: simon riley, john mactavish, john price, kyle garrick, alejandro vargas, rodolfo parra, könig and keegan p. russ (paired with fem!reader).

summary: how many children would they have? boys or girls? would they retire to have their families?

wc; 0.6k

possible misspelling, sorry!

simon 'ghost' riley: only one daughter named grace. he retired when she was about two years old –even though he had already stayed home before, this time was permanent. his daughter has his hair, but your smile. she’s polite and not too rebellious. she's very empathetic and kind to others. she always put post-its in the mirror of the bathroom to make your day better.

john 'soap' mactavish: he would have two sons born just a year apart. regardless of the games' timeline, he probably planned to retire young and live in the countryside with his family. his sons have the same personality as him and are nicknamed "bubble one" and "bubble two" by everyone who knows them. name's callum and owen. he was wishing for a girl next.

john price: i just can't picture him as the father of boys, so i'll say it. one single daughter that he spoils way too much. probably named victoria or danielle. "his little elle". he bought her a car when she finished college and always ask her if she needs money. at least she's a nice girl at school even if he spoils her rotten. took his eyes and his smile and is always posting pictures in her instagram with you two. trends on tiktok too. he's not thinking about retiring yet.

kyle 'gaz' garrick: one son who reached age fourteen and then, suddenly, another boy appeared —one who talks too much and always follows his older brother around. the older one is named jayden. the younger one likely has a name that you choose. thinking about retiring when the young one finished elementary school. the most relatable thing he does with the kids? watch soccer and scream at the tv.

alejandro vargas: twin girls who look just like him. it annoys you because you were betting since the gender reveal about who's genes were stronger. their names are ximena and citlalli. yes, he does ask if they won any fight they had at school— funny thing that they're opposites. his family by mother side had already a thing with twins. he retired when both of them were about to start college to help you at house.

rodolfo 'rudy' parra: either he has no kids, or he has one older son and one younger daughter. mateo and renata separated by two peaceful years (y'know that first baby that makes you want to have another one and then the second is born and you realize why don't you want more? well, that was what happened here). a real headache because they're always fighting, and he blames your side of the family since he turned out calm. he learned not to do anything unless the house goes completely quiet. not thinking about retiring yet.

könig: four kids because he doesn't want any of them to feel lonely. three boys and one girl —but the girl is the oldest. you picked her name because könig passed out in the delivery room –yes, he had seen worse. but the first pregancy came with problems and he couldn't breath in the hospital–. he named the second and third kids himself, and their names go perfectly with your last name –most likely, könig uses your surname, so your children do too.

keegan russ: he has only one son who's so quiet it makes him nervous. when the boy started walking, keegan put bells on him because he kept hiding. i can totally see him choosing a name that starts with “k” just because it fits the vibe— maybe kenneth. one time when you went out he didn't tell you, but he had to look all through the house after realizing little kenny flushed the bells down the toilet and was hiding. he's a mama's boy because keegan is not thinking about retiring soon.

a/n: probably will take a while to write about the series, but yup, family series bc i want fluff.

[solspina]

Rating primarchs based on how good of a boyfriend they would be

full send no context

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus : 8/10

He’s a nice guy for the most part, very charismatic and though very goal focused he’s also kind and open to those he’s closest to. Outwardly, he’s very straightforward, stern, and absolutely ruthless to his enemies. There’s humanity within him though, and he won’t keep his friendly, loving demeanor away from those who deserve it. Find him at a celebratory event, drunk with Sanguinius, moments in which he’s full of nothing but laughter and love for his brothers and the one who stands beside him. His love language is quality time.

Leman Russ : 4/10 (negotiable)

Though he knows love, it seems to be quite strictly familial. He’s described often as ruthless and barbaric, naive and braggish. If you can put up with things like that, I’m sure he would be a fine boyfriend. Similarly enough though, he’s had many women try to court him all at once, and successfully. I can’t promise his loyalty if someone better looking comes along, as no one ever taught him the importance of that. Outside of the constant, lingering fear of replacement, he can have his caring and understanding moments, occasionally bringing you gifts from crusades and sieges on other planets. Maybe his loyalty to the emperor would apply to his lover too, if you tell him what it means to you. His love language is gift giving.

Ferrus Manus : 7/10

Rage is his fatal flaw if we’re being honest. Not towards you, but towards battle. Toward you I imagine he would be more straightforward and honest, though trustworthy and strong willed to make your relationship work. Loyalty will never ever ever be an issue with him, but it seems like he spends more time with war and battle than he does you. He spends time with you when he can, though, and he truly does care. Points off for his temper. He gave his brothers personalized gifts, and i’m sure he would go through many lengths to do the same for you. His love language is gift giving.

Fulgrim: 6/10

He’s constantly trying to be perfect, and he wants whoever he’s with to be perfect too. A lot of the time, it gets to his head. He can be incredibly ignorant quite often, and isn’t very considerate of your feelings. You’re more of an idol to him, a model. You’re human, so he sees you as perfect, something he and his people should strive to be like. Youre idealized, and under rose tinted lenses, this looks a lot like love… Lots of acts of service and gift giving.

Vulkan : 10/10

The only man you will ever need point blank period. He’s patient, he’s empathetic, he’s kind, he’s humane. He’s incredibly easy to love, and he truly is beloved. The Salamanders love you too, sometimes listening to your commands as if they were his. You’re respected as long as you’re under his arm. He wants to understand the way humans feel, especially understand the reason they wrap their arms around each other and sleep with their bodies entwined at night. His love language is physical touch.

Rogal Dorn : 6/10

He’s incredibly loyal, and also incredibly honest, but his seriousness can get in the way sometimes. You love him, very much, but there are times you get into petty arguments and he has to go consult Horus and Sanguinius for advice on what to do. He’s also very reserved at times, a lot like a single dad who’s just doing his best to keep his job and go about his day. Acts of service would be his love language.

Roboute Guilliman : 9/10

Guilliman is a great boyfriend, a great tactician, a great warrior, all of the above. The only reason i’d take a point off is because I believe he may be a little arrogant at times. He believes that his way is the right way, but he’s usually willing to listen to you and your concerns. He’s incredibly intelligent, very sympathetic and understanding of human trials and concerns, and he’s a lot like we are modern times. I think he would look for comfort in a significant other, and his love language is likely acts of service.

Magnus the Red : 3/10

Another man that I don’t recommend being with. He’s more arrogant than Fulgrim. When I said Guilliman believes his way is the right way, Magnus takes it a step up. He thinks he’s ALWAYS right. He cares, and he means well, but he’s way too much to put up with. Highly manipulative and self absorbed, don’t put yourself in that situation. He values knowledge more than he does you.

Sanguinius : 10/10

Besides the fact he’s a vampire, you’re probably the most safe with him. He genuinely cares for you and your well-being, and sleeping next to him at night with his wing draped over you is an absolute dream in a universe plagued by war. His sons may fall to their bloodthirst when they’re on the home ship, and Sanguinius is fast to wrap himself around his human partner and protect them from any and all harm. You hold him through his sorrow every time a mass of humans or his sons lose their lives, and you watch him kneel to offer you his loyalty and unconditional love rather than you offering it to him. He gives both physical touch and words of affirmation.

Lion El’Jonson : 7/10

Of course he has his moments where he can come off as aloof and paranoid, but that’s for the most part only on the battlefield. Outside, he’s incredibly charming and charismatic, but in a noble way. When his paranoia gets to him after an argument, he seeks out Sanguinius and Horus for advice, wanting nothing more to fix your relationship and solve whatever went wrong. He become more secretive as time goes on, but old habits die hard. I believe he’d offer acts of service.

Perturabo : 6/10

He’s incredibly smart, but finds relating to you and your human tendencies incredibly difficult. His moods can shift and change rapidly and violently, but I believe he means you no true harm. He would never hurt you intentionally, often opting to back away and give himself space, sometimes for days. He never returns to you without a mechanically engineered gift, though, one of his design. Alongside a very gentle hug and a conversation about how you care about him, what he loves. You love him, not for his usefulness to the emperor, but for him. His love language is definitely gift giving.

Mortarion : 8/10

He’s very confused as to why you would choose him. He’s disgusting, an abomination, he hated everything from psykers to his oppressors, what did anything matter if he would be left to the mercy of another oppressor anyways? All thoughts he had until he met you. He was cold and hateful to you at first, untrusting, and yet you showed him kindness. You showed him kindness over and over again. For once, it wasn’t just a one time thing. You’re the only thing in this universe who sees him as more than a warlord, more than the embodiment of death itself, so for you he has a soft spot. He hates the idea of having a human curl up next to him, absorbing his warmth and disease alike… and yet you do. You remind him that his touch is not deadly, and he too is capable of humanity. He will be more considerate of his decisions, because for once, something matters. His love language is physical touch, because he’s been deprived for so long, you’re the only one who allows him that piece of humanity.

Lorgar : 5/10

Does he love you? Does he not? No… He needs you… Maybe he just needs space actually.He loves you, he really does, and by god he tries his best, but when you’re as impulsive and indecisive as he is, it’s hard to know sometimes. If you’re okay with it working 50% of the time, maybe more maybe less, I’m sure you’ll be fine. His love language is… uh… well?

Jaghatai Khan : 7/10

Loyal, decently humble, and a relatively peaceful man. Outside of war, he has potential to be great to you. When war is his focus, however. Expect no attention, he’s a fierce warrior and needs to focus on his allegiance to the emperor, that’s what comes first. You follow very closely after, though! He’s quick to praise you for the things you do well and gently remind you of a better course of action when it comes to the things you don’t do too well. Acts of service enjoyer.

Konrad Curze : 2/10

DO NOT DATE THIS MAN. Konrad is a walking red flag. The self loathing, the anger, the angst, the general belief in humanity as a fallacy. He’s also incredibly violent, and may cause you serious harm if you ever managed to anger him. He’s a primarch, and you’re a human. Don’t you dare piss him off. I don’t know why anyone would realistically want that. Please continue to paint him as mean angry babygirl with a soft spot in your fics though. If you think you can fix him, you can’t. The emperor already tried.

Angron : 4/10

Before his conversion to chaos, Angron would’ve been a great boyfriend if we’re being honest. He was kind, compassionate, encouraging. He loved you when you were enslaved beside him, but once he became a primarch and lost everything, his beloved included, he became one of the most ruthless and cruel people out there until he succumbed to Khorne. He doesn’t remember you. His love language was words of affirmation.

Corvus Corax : 4/10

A very melancholic and depressed primarch. He’s very angsty and honestly a major drag to be around. He and Konrad, i feel like, would be better boyfriends to each other than either of them would be to you. Corvus isn’t as violent as Konrad, but he definitely carries on the hatred, the sorrow, and the bitterness. He’s also very sensitive, so expect to be met with either violence or a breakdown if you try to leave. 2 extra points because you may get to keep your life, his love language is words of affirmation, always followed by self deprecation.

Alpharius Omegon : 7/10

He’s they’re a great boyfriend to be honest, though very secretive, and that raises many questions. You don’t know that there are two of them. It’s a secret, not even one that you’re allowed to know the answer to. Alpharius is obviously the more dominant brother, the one who you think has a soft side. He doesn’t. That’s not him, that’s Omegon. Omegon is much more gentle, quiet, and quite honestly a little more touchy. Why? because you make him feel seen. Alpharius is used to the spotlight, so giving him every ounce of your attention feels like the usual, though he still enjoys it very much. Alpharius expresses love through acts of service and gift giving, while Omegon expresses love through words of affirmation and quality time. They make up for everything the other lacks, as long as you don’t know the massive secret they’re keeping from you…

[sweetiecutie]

AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink

A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention

• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.

• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.

• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*

• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.

NSFW here~*•.

• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.

• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.

• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.

• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.

• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3

[tagedeszorns]

Games Workshop should stop bringing back Primarchs to 40k.

The pros of having a towering, impressive model on the table and the warm and fuzzy feeling that your boys have their daddy again are by far outweighed by the cons.

Firstly, of course, the obvious problem of injustice. A few of them are deader than the dodo and can't just be pulled out of a hat. (Except by Fabius, of course, but that would take a lot of arm-twisting for his character to get him to clone them all again)

Then there's the return of such mythical beings, who in the completely over-the-top religiosity of the 40k world had the status of archangels or suchlike aloof creatures, and whose nimbus is now completely disenchanted - because they're just standing over there picking their noses and being their bickering selves again. Uncool.

Quite a few of the older 40k novels (and the newer ones too - see the near-war over Heresy writings in Titanicus) would be absolutely devalued and their protagonists practically ridiculed. Take Ragnar, for example, who was banished for something Russ would laugh out loud and heartily at.

And then, of course, the great heroes of 40k would suddenly be demoted to middle management. See Calgar. Who got to make a nice appearance in Space Marines 2, but is only half the hero he was before Bob's return. All the Chapter Masters who have stood out for their deeds so far. The sacrifices made by men like Forgefather He'Stan - all just preparation for Daddy? (He'Stan is a bad example in some ways, but then take Tu'Shan and the rest of the understrength Salamanders fighting for survival)

Especially with the Chaos Legions, it shifts everything. Fulgrim's return to lead the Emperor's Children is as good as a foregone conclusion. Which means that Eidolon is now slipping into Kaesoron's 30k role: he's just there, but hardly anyone will notice him anymore. The struggle to find themselves, to practically grow up - that is taken away from the Emperor's Children. They become simple weapons in the hands of their father again. And they don't deserve that.

Or just imagine: Lorgar comes out of the Cathedral, muzzles Erebus and Kor Phaeron, and the whole fascinating political landscape the two of them have built up is swept away in one fell swoop.

At least there's a chance that Abaddon as the current Undivided-Champion will just bash cloned-daddy's head in. Again.

But first and foremost: The story of the Primarchs is told. They had their over 60 book arc of greatness and fall and I loved all of it. But it's over. They created the foundation of the world we know in 40k, but they should not be part of it. They are larger than life and that ship has sailed. 40k has a radically different aesthetics than 30k and bleeding one into the other is just tearing down a carefully built world.

It will happen, that's for sure. And maybe the great authors of Black Library will surprise me and everything will be peachy.

One can hope.

[relax-and-read-on]

So! In the theme of pride month, I decided to post a New and Improved HC list of primarch and queerness! At the time of the og list (over 3 years ago???), my hc were very different, and things have evolved soooo much in my mind, specifically in relation to the setting! So, without further ado...

How queer are the Primarch?

Roboute: Pansexual of the political Maccragian variety. Marriage? That's for politics and alliance making. Romance? That's where your closest and most beloved companion go. Monogamy? Just don't make succesion lines messy. In general, very attracted to long hair and elegance, and likes more dominating partner. Cis, of the "listen I have paperwork to finish I don't have time for this" variety.

Lion: Gay. Gay gay gay GAAAAAY. Gay gay homosexual gay. Also violently demiromantic. Is lost in the glass closet, not because he doesn't want to come out, but because Sanguinius smiled at him and he had to go on a 3 months hunt instead of asking him out. Absolute disaster gay.

Sanguinius: Shapeshifting pan and polyamourous. Present masc for the Imperium but is a lot more fluid in private. Has an insanely complicated polycule that need a flowchart and a power point presentation to understand. Somehow people keep getting added to it without him meaning too, he's just that lovable.

Horus: a SLUT. A pansexual WHORE. Surprisingly one of those that has sex with afab people the most in the family hello canonical breeding kink, He has less of a polycule and more like a laundry list of fuck friends, and he fully identify as cis, comfortable in it too.

Konrad: Lol. Lmao, even. Very complicated relationship with gender that he has not finished untangling. Usually identify as a menace. Flip wildly between sex repulsed and wanting to have the most mind blowing orgasm from a BDSM scene. Pansexual of the "what's a gender" variety.

Fulgrim: almost fully aromantic. While he love people from every single presentation of humans under the sun, he only has ever been *in love* with Ferrus, and it's mind blowing to him. Genderfluid, and actually slightly chromosonal intersex! Most people would never guess, but he does find it important for his identity.

Ferrus: The most demisexual of the fam. Was under the impression he was himself ace, until he saw Fulgrim forge him a hammer, covered in grimme. Trans man, in the "hey look at this cool new dick I made myself, it shoot LAZER! Yeah ofc I had to take my pants to show you-" variety.

Perturabo: Actually, honest to god hetero flexible. Very attracted to women, the feminine and the delicate. Things that are soft and pretty. He was honestly surprised to be attracted to Fulgrim, and had a minor gay panic about it. Technically agender, but mostly because he feel so remove from his own flesh and body's desire.

Magnus: Warp goo in a vaguely human shaped pile. When asked about his gender as a child, he identified as a constelation. Will say that he is Sapiosexual, and then will transform into a goat the first person that ask about Leman Russ.

Jaghatai: Honestly? Labels are meaningless. Why not just go with the flow? He enjoy pretty, fun, smart people. He is cis, but he really enjoy playing with gender expression, from simple things like painting his nails to full on costumes. His ass look fabulous in a tight dress.

Rogal: Gay, aromantic. Like having sex (aka hardcore bdsm) with his friends. Is actually slightly confused and almost worried about gender expression and presentation, and overthink the whole thing a lot. Has had many talk with Fulgrim trying to get it.

Mortarion: fully, 100% true gonadal intersex (thanks fertily god!). Feel very ankward in his gender expression and is intimidated by experimenting. Is attracted to people that are nice to him, wich is both charming and a bit worrying. Very into bald people, of all thing.

Alpharius/Omegon: Pansexual for tactical purpose. Genderfluid for the trolling. Actually can have some pretty bad gender panic ocasionally because they feel like theor life is always so fake, that they don't know themself.

Corvus: Trans woman! Beautiful and comfortable in her transition! Joke that she has to be hetero with all the guys in her fam, but then she had one VERY interesting night with Sang and shapeshifting and now call herself bi. Sleep around, but is waiting to settle down and become a pretty strict monogamous.

Vulkan: He wants a wife (gender neutral), the 2.5 children legions, a pet dragon and a white picket fortress. By far the most romantic of the fam. Somehow has traditional family roles in his head, but completely removed from gender expectation. Cis, amazing ally and suportive.

Lorgar: Actually part of a third gender reserved to the priestly class on Colchis! Pansexual, but desperatly wants partner that can fold them in half and break their back. Think that helping people discover their sexuality is a mission from God(s), and consider it a great honor.

Leman: VERY pro trans, and will argue that his experience of feeling like he had to "change species" is extremely similar! Absolute slut, does not really ping gender, but has a tendency/societal habit of wanting to be the dominant partner with whoever he's with. And yeah.... there's a knot.

Angron: Demisexual that can rival Ferrus. A lot of his experience where shaped by trauma and things he saw, and the feeling that he cannot/should not be loved when he will invariably hurt his partner. Lorgar doesn't care. Does not like to deal with gender stuff and gets agressive about it.

[callmemickey]

Keegan Russ is a provider and you’re lying to yourself if you even think otherwise 👏 if he could make it to where you didn’t have to lift a finger for the rest of your life, he 100% would. That being said, I hope you love to be on the receiving end of oral! I genuinely believe this man will deep dive right on in there, and would stay there until you’re shaking, crying, and begging him to stop (to which he probably won’t).

Keegan Russ can be chatty when it’s just you two, and especially - you know where this is going - in bed. He loves praising you, but in such a gentle way (he also praises you day-to-day but this is nsfw hehe). If you get all shy, he will eat it tf up. imagine hearing these in his deep, gravelly, purr of a voice: “you’re so perfect and I’m so lucky you’re mine” “fuck, you look so beautiful riding my cock like that” “you wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?” “how could I say no when you asked so nicely?” “ahh, that’s my girl.” “I love how your pretty little mouth feels.” I could literally write Keegan talking for like 6947950 years mmkay

Keegan Russ loves it when you initiate and/or take charge, even if he ends up doing the work. Ride him, sit on his face, swipe his nose like a credit card, suck his cock, for the love of god anything. Even though he absolutely loves performing acts of service, the moment you hop into action? Weak! This man is weak! just tell him it’s because he’s been so amazing, that you just wanna do this for him if that’s alright 🥺 you missed him sm and you just wanna make your baby feel good 🥺 is slobbering on his cock too much to ask for 🥺 if you’re doing this, you got him whipped

Keegan Russ might wear the mask in bed upon asking. I don’t think he has an issue with anonymity and his identity. I would honestly wait for some time to pass before asking. I like to imagine he’s kind of… confused at first? He puts it on (even does the face paint), and you’re barking and purring. He’s just like “why do they like this?” but when he realizes JUST how bad you want him? GOD!!! It’s basically just roleplaying and he eats that shit up, mama - he gets into it and it’s like… distant, anonymous, and it feels dirty: “show me how much you want me.” “with your mouth, just like that. good.” “that’s Sergeant/sir to you.” “that’s right, on your knees.” “oooh, look at you.” “did I say you could cum?” “louder.”

Keegan Russ has the sexiest morning voice in the world. The way he wakes up (shirtless, he’s usually shirtless), sighs, and rolls over to you. You know that half-spoon, half-on top moment? Yeah, THAT. you’re on your side and he’s kind of on top and pressed against you, kissing you on the neck as you feel his hands glide up the side of your thigh, his touch is so warm and gentle. “mornin’, sweetheart.” AAUUUGGggghhhhh and then you feel his morning wood pressed so hard against your ass- ok I can’t do this (not me scrambling to write morning sex with my husband keegs)

Keegan Russ is not a very rough or hardcore lover. Please don’t expect him to tie you up or do some crazy things cuz he probably won’t!! The most you’ll get with being “kinky” is him wearing the mask and praising you (kinda considered bdsm???), which, if you need anything more from him… can’t help ya there champ - besides, is he not enough??!?!? 🥺 don’t break his heart or i swear

Keegan Russ… I see him liking the spooning position a lot, or a variation where he fucks you from behind and cowgirl just please ride him. There’s something he finds soooooo erotic about leaning over your shoulder, saying things naughty things in your ear ahhh he knoooooows what his voice does to you, so he takes advantage of it anytime he can get! there was that time you two were making lunch on a weekend and he just bent you over the counter and it was just… “you’re so wet already - you been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” “you’re such a pleasure to use” “I’m so proud of you for taking my cock so well” “relax, baby, just hold on” “that’s it, just like that, ah, fuck” “you want me to make you cum again?” “there’s that happy little sigh”

Keegan Russ doesn’t put you in extreme sexual situations where you require extensive aftercare (or any if you’re down tbh), but he still makes sure your needs are taken care of!! wanna shower together? have a snack? oh! you’re out of water, he’ll grab you a glass! need him to snuggle you for a little bit? of course, he wouldn’t want to do anything else! Being with you and making sure you’re happy and taken care of???? His #1 priority 🙌

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[circeius-invidioso]

Today. 👏🏻

We I give an answer to a question you never asked.

And no I don't mean the minis. I mean the actual armor. If it was real, how much would it approximately cost to paint?

So first things first. Lets explain our variables.

(The board bas been censored to avoid spoilers)

We have on the first column the name of each primarch.

The second we have how much 1kg of pigment costs. Note that each Primarch has a different pigment thus different cost.

Third is the 1.5 kg. With the power of math I concluded that each primarch would need 1.5kg of pigment to have their armor painted. (We will assume that all primarchs armors will have the same sqft of surface that needs to be coated).

Forth is the fixed cost. That is the general cost for supplies, coat, varnish etc. Again we will assume that this cost is the same for everyone because I like being sane.

And finally we have the total cost. We add the add the 1.5 kg cost with the fixed cost.

Corvus / 3048,075 €

Russ / 3066,945 €

Fulgrim / 3202,605 €

Perturabo / 3211,875 €

Magnus / 3251.85 €

Perturabo's armor paintjob costs a lot more than Fulgrim's. So that's that.

Vulkan / 3309,04 €

Omegon / 3310,71 €

Konrad / 3334,8 €

Lorgar / 3398,34 €

It's not a huge bump in cost. Still very much rational. It's just the paintjob right? They have to redo it all the time.

Right?

Alpharius / 3405,21 €

Ferrus / 3410,715 €

Mortarion / 3410,715 €

Horus / 3461,535 €

Lion / 3674,73 €

Angron / 3741,75 €

Sanguinius / 3957,39 €

So far the numbers are pretty tame. Except angel boy who was so close to breaking the 4k mark.

But...

We are missing two people here...

On the number 2 of the most expensive armor paintjob we have...

A round of applause please.

Roboute / 45091,5 €

No. You saw correctly. The lord of Ultramar needs to spend 45k to paint his armor.

Where did that number come from?

Fun fact.

The original ultramarine was lapis lazuli. The precious gemstone. And let me tell you something about lapiz pigment...

It's expensive. 💸💸💸

But let's not wait any further.

On number one we have...

Dorn / 95346 €

Yes.

95k just to paint his armor.

My man...

My myth...

My legend...

Every time he goes to a crusade one planet's taxes need to be spent just for his armor to stay nice and painted.

The lesson of this long ass post?

There is none, besides

Dorn and Guilliman are two high maintenance fatherlovers.

[machveil]

Which boys would the one training you to get to eye contact and playfully tease about it.

KEEGAN— sorry for yelling, but Keegan bahaha… maybe a hot take because I don’t write for him, but Gaz strikes me as someone that would do that too maybe? Johnny! Johnny too, silly man

Keegan Russ:

Keegan one hundred percent does it to mess with you. he likes purposely staring at you, refuses to blink, and then teases you when you look away. I will say that over and over again because it’s real to me

Keegan purposely making you practice eye contact with him because, “You said you like my eyes, sweetheart. Don’t you want to look at them?”. he’ll sit down at a table with you and smile, eyes glued to yours. every time you look away - even briefly - he’s mouthing off, “Hey, breaking my heart here, baby, don’t look away.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

again, I don’t write for him, but it feels like something he’d do… but that’s my take. his is less about being a menace and more about making a connection. he wants to look into your eyes, just so happens that you get to look into his too

his teasing is more lighthearted, soft laughter spilling from his lips when you absentmindedly look away from him. you’re sitting next to him on his couch, his hand on your knee. every time you look away from him he squeezes your knee, mumbles that you have to look at him - he just wants to look into your eyes, spending a little quality time with you

John “Soap” MacTavish:

he’s being silly about it, it’s all goofy smiles and sitting way too close to you. he probably saw a video of a couple looking into each other’s eyes cutely… except Johnny can’t take it seriously haha

“‘M sorry, I promise I’ll stop laughin’—“, he’s cracking up, lopsided smile on his lips as he bites back a chuckle. it started with you two sitting next to each other in bed, a normal amount of space between you. now? now Johnny is practically forehead to forehead with you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he stares dead into your eyes, “Nah— hey, don’t look away, mo chridhe! You— ha, you look nice up close.”

[officialwhoremaster]

What kind of Minecraft player each Primarch would be

So a worm ate my brian and I had to think about how the primarchs would be as minecraft players. Like the roles they would have in the game. I decided to talk about this with my friend @nightghoulz (the orange is stuff they came up with and Purple is what I came up with) and this is what we came up with. Also, the end part is like super shitty cause I didn't put that much thought into it, despite it being the literal thing that like literally started this conversation but oh well.

Lion El' Johnson: Immediately runs off to create a secret base somewhere where no one will find. He is also in charge of exploring and map making.

Fulgrim: The miner. duh.

Perturabo: Begrudgingly works with Dorn to build the base, does all the redstone stuff.

Jaghatai Khan: Speedrunner, so he is pretty much bored while everyone else is still working on the base. So, he just makes a bunch of mob farms, including a horse farm so he can get the fastest and most jumpy horse.

Leman Russ: Has a bunch of wolves and just runs around pillaging villages and temples

Rogal Dorn: Works with Perturabo on building the fortress

Konrad Curze: Regularly steals from everyone and has a secret base where he is building a huge cathedral.

Sanguinius: Also owns the server. The flower collector who has the worst luck the entire time, he is always dying and he's thousands of blocks away from his bed. He is the reason keep inventory is on. But he is secretly really fucking good and doesn't let anyone know until it's necessary.

Ferrus Manus: Works on XP farms (iron cage 😛) and goes mining with Fulgrim

Angron: Has the best freaking luck ever, lives off of gapples and refuses to use anything other than an ax. Is always saving Sanguinius. He pretty much camps at the XP farms and just spends forever there.

Roboute Guilliman: In charge of the base, including storage. He also is in charge of going to the Nether and the End.

Mortarion: In charge of the plant farms.

Magnus the Red: In charge of potions and enchanting

Horus Lupercal: Owns the realm. Plays on creative but nobody knows. (Nightghoulz literally fucking did this)

Lorgar Aurelian: Just there to vibe, helps where he's needed

Vulkan: In charge of making weapons and giving the villagers nice houses. Has a bunch of axolotls for war purposes.

Corvus Corax: Has a bunch of parrots and begged Horus to get the texture pack that can turn them into ravens/crows and cats and just runs around. Until he finds Konrad, then asks if he can join Konrad and they end up building the cathedral together and bonding.

Alpharius Omegon: Tunnels. Everywhere.

Who dies the most? Lion.

Who dies the Least? Angron and Guilliman. But Guilliman is becasue he never leaves the fortress and Angron is just extremely good.

Now for the good part...

THE HORUS HERESY

Horus had an idea, but when they all voted on it, he lost. So out of pettiness, he took off and started to build a secret base where he carefully started planning his revenge. He started recruiting ones to join his cause (take over the server completely.) Then he changed the settings to where you lose inventory and friendly fire is on. This was found out after he secretly recruited Fulgrim and Fulgrim took Ferrus mining and they were going to jump off a cliff so they can go back home. But Fulgrim didn't jump, and Ferrus died, losing all of his loot. He freaked out and that's how everyone found out that Horus and seven of the other players betrayed them. Magnus joined Horus after Leman was tricked by Alpharius into thinking that Magnus had betrayed, so leman attacked Magnus. But Magnus hadn't betrayed Guilliman and co., so he was understandably left because he didn't feel welcome anymore. Lion and Konrad blew up Konrad and Corvus' cathedral during their fight.

The end of the Horus Heresy cause Horus and his traitors banished to the End and the Nether. Sanguinius, Ferrus, Vulkan, Jaghatai, Leman, Corvus, Lion, and Rogal all left the realm. Seemingly never to come back. Until one day Lion came back to join Guilliman and his new buddies in preventing Horus and his traitors from coming back into the overworld.

[mothiir]

What shenanigans do you think lion and leman get up to when they smell their woman ovulating

i’m sorry anon did you ask me to write yet another list of ‘primarchs react to’?

yes, thought you did! here is an incomplete list of ‘primarchs reacting to their lady ovulating’. all of these, apart from roboute, are pre-heresy.

roboute guilliman - starting off strong. This man smells that you are fertile and immediately checks and triple checks that your implant is functioning and that there is no chance that you are getting pregnant. No babies. Not now. Maybe when he has a farm, in a few hundred years. But nope, not now. If things are bad in the imperium at that moment, his ‘can’t be a dad’ anxiety might spike to the point where he doesn’t even want to put his penis near you. He sticks out one knee — still encased in his holy armour — and is like okay rub on that while I finish up this paperwork, you have forty five minutes.

the lion - his sex ed came in two batches: one from observing wild animals, and two from observing some very homosexual knights. He isn’t exactly the expert on the female reproductive cycle. However, he does the best he can, extrapolating from how female lions acted in the forest of Caliban. When they were fertile, they badgered the males for sex constantly, and seemed very distressed when they weren’t being serviced. In his infinite wisdom, he decides that human woman are probably the same, and proceeds to put you on your back at least five times a day. You whinge less than normal (mostly because you are almost comatose with exhaustion) so he counts this as a success.

leman russ - unlike the lion (and indeed most of his brothers) he has had considerable experience with female humans before he met you, so he knows exactly what to do. Yes, he does buy into some stereotypes — you are a little hornier than normal, maybe, but you’re certainly not the insatiable sex goddess he starts treating you like — but his heart (and dick) are in the right place. He may even start hinting about hey do you want pups? Maybe? Just one or two? His dirty talk takes on a distinctive feral tone. Lots of talking about how pretty you’d look with his pups in you. Don’t worry, he’ll calm down eventually.

horus - will hide your birth control. Best bet is to be conveniently absent for this week of your cycle. He’s going to start whining. Ignore him — he’s a big boy, and despite his painted insistence, primarchs do not have a genetic anomaly that makes blue balls fatal.

konrad - he sniffs you more than normal, which is saying something because he sniffs you a lot. Tells you that you smell unbearably revoltingly sweet and he hates it. No, you may not leave his chambers, he wants you to stay here so he can put up with the awful-delightful fecund reek. That’s a direct quote by the way; the man has a way with words. Like Roboute, he is pretty fanatical about not wanting children, so he isn’t going to take any risks. You will end up with a very sore jaw as he makes you swallow the little Night Haunter morning noon and night to take the edge off.

lorgar — look, he knows you’re not going to go around spreading your legs for his legion, he knows that you’re a good chaste girl who only wants him, but you smell so wonderful, and you’re all rosy with health, and his sons —- well, his sons are lovely, but they’re still men. And what chance do men have against the divine? No, you stay in your rooms nice and snug, and he will tell you when you have finished that bit of the cycle and can leave. Until then, he’ll keep you occupied. Partly with sex. Mostly with reading scripture he’s written about how said sex is a divine offering to his Father.

ferrus - meat-woman smell of weak human hormones. vile. must purge woman best way iron hand know how: insertion of the iron co —

fulgrim - writes you the most gorgeous flowery poetry and presents it to you along with an eight foot picture that is designed to ‘celebrate your delightful womanhood’. It is beautiful, in the way that all his art is, but you’ll admit that you don’t quite ‘get’ this one. It’s vaguely in the shape of a uterus, in shades of purple and gold, and — is that a penis? He will then proceed to make you forget your own name, so thankfully your opinion on said art piece is never asked.

[cryptidvaquero]

There's a Hole Where Something Was (Adler x Bell! Reader)

A/N: Omg am I actually uploading a fic rn? Yes, yes I am. I wrote this on Christmas day a few weeks ago under the title "A Very Solovetsky Christmas" because I'm lame. I ended up not finishing it, but I polished off the end and figured I'd post it here bc idk if I want to upload it to my ao3.

Warnings: Russell Adler (?), mentions of gunshot wounds/near-death experiences

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

You never thought you’d end up back here. Maybe it was supposed to bring you closure, but the sight of that rocky cliff just sits heavy in your chest. Not bitter, not angry, not venerated. Just… heavy. Like you know you should feel worse about this than you actually do. Waves crash against the shoreline below you. You spare a glance over the cliff’s edge. Distantly, the thought remains in your head: That could have been the last thing I saw. Maybe there could have been peace in that. Solovetsky is a pretty place. Maybe if you had chosen to die there way back when, it would have been quite nice.

It’s juvenile, but you kick a few rocks over the edge, watching them tumble and fall into the frothy sea below.

“Everything you ever wanted, Bell?” Adler’s boots crunch on the snow, packing it down as he follows your path to the cliff’s edge. Perhaps it’s the only time he’s ever followed you. Usually, it’s the other way around. And, admittedly, you’re not sure how you feel about not having Adler in your line of sight, dutifully watching his back. You turn and look at him over your shoulder, an expression of vague amusement making your brow quirk up.

“It’s alright,” you muse. “Cold as hell, though.” The cold bites into your cheeks like a dog snapping at a toy. It won’t let go, won’t ease. Of course, you wore a balaclava the last time you were here; no wonder it feels colder.

Adler’s nursing a cigarette, as always. The wind drifts the smoke in your direction, a tantalizing warmth to the plumes that make your mouth water. It’s gotten harder and harder to stay away from the pack these days. You joke to Adler that it’s because the brainwashing is wearing off, and his smirk usually turns tight-lipped.

But had it really? You still see flickers of Vietnam on television screens. Red doors still make you shiver. You haven’t kept up with your shots since then, either. And, of course, you’re still watching Adler’s back. Either you’ve always been this crazy, or Adler’s made you a pretty good case study of codependency. There are worse things, you think to yourself. Worse things than being brainwashed?

“You’re the one who asked to come here,” Adler states, his tone blunt. He takes a final drag and flicks out the butt into the snow, stalking to your side. He lets out the breath he was holding, sending more clouds of cigarette smoke through the air and up your nose. Something tells you that it was purposeful.

“I know what I asked for, Russ.” You take a deep breath, just as purposeful. Adler doesn’t fail to notice it, and his hand lands heavily on the back of your neck, giving you a squeeze. Is it affectionate? Maybe it’s more like tugging on an eager dog’s leash.

When you asked him to take you back to Solovetsky, Adler was reading the newspaper. You remember him looking up over the pages, eyeing you (“trying to go for round 2, then?”), and you shrugged (“I don’t need to be in Solovetsky to pull a gun on you, Russ.”)

Why hadn’t you just gone by yourself? No need to drag out Adler. It might just remind him of the shit you’ve been through together - for better, but most likely for worse. You just had to make sure that you hadn’t really met your demise here. Maybe if you took a good look at the untainted ground, you’d realize that the past few years haven’t been another MK-Ultra pipe dream. Maybe if you took Adler with you, he’d be there to reassure you that you’re real, it’s all real, and that you won’t wake up with an aching pain in your eye socket.

Adler’s hand moves to the back of your head, purposefully tilting your face in his direction. He stares at you silently, analyzing you. You wonder if he hears a bell ring when you make eye contact with him. You wonder if your mouth should water every time you see him, waiting for your treat.

Eventually, he speaks.

“How’s your shoulder feel?”

Your brows furrow together in confusion. When you tilt your head, trying to discern what he means, Adler’s other hand pokes you in the shoulder, right over your gunshot scar.

Right. Just had to rub it in.

“You’re one for subtlety, huh? Fuck off, my shoulder feels fine.”

He chuckles, surprisingly. Earning a laugh from the ‘mysterious’ Russell Adler is a rare and coveted achievement. At least, for you it is. There shouldn’t be anything funny about being shot in the shoulder, but the outcome hasn’t been so bad.

At least, compared to the alternative.

[wxnheart]

What is cuddling with the primarchs like. (And no just writing morty off with a stank joke plz)

Horus - Very affectionate, complete with quips and kisses. Loves to hold you in the crook of his arm. His tits are wonderful pillows.

Leman Russ - Leman is quite the cuddler, especially because he really likes skin-to-skin contact when you two cuddle. More than likely, you'll both be naked. To your surprise, horizontal loving doesn't happen as often as you thought it would.

Ferrus Manus - A bit stilted but he's got the spirit. His arms are of great interest to you so it's not out of the ordinary to marvel at them.

Fulgrim - Cuddling with Fulgrim has an 85% chance of leading to... other things so yeah. Cuddling also includes a very elaborate primping session.

Vulkan - About as vanilla and saccharine as it gets. Doesn't usually last long because the giant teddy bear is a walking furnace.

Rogal Dorn - Also a bit stilted with him, too. If anything, you'll be tucked under him and engaging in conversation over his latest project. His voice, though he doesn't believe it, is quite sonorous and lulls you into a peaceful doze.

Roboute Guilliman - You're the one sitting in his lap while he's busy doing paperwork or the like. You like to tease him and he'll chuckle and tell you to behave; this is said rather suggestively, too. 👀

Magnus - Funnily enough, you're cuddling and playing with his hair while nestled comfortably in one arm while he's busy reading a book or perhaps the latest treatise his brother Lorgar wrote.

Sanguinius - Just as saccharine as Vulkan's, complete with you being enveloped in his wings just as much are you are in his arms. Touching his feathers will make him rouse his wings, though.

Lion El'Jonson - LMAO.

Perturabo - You're begrudgingly (read: happily) nestled against him and he begrudgingly (read: ABSOLUTELY) accepts it.

Mortarion - The clingy koala of the group, even with the scowl on his face. If he had his way, he'd never let go. Don't you dare tell his brothers or sons, though.

Lorgar - The one who cocoons himself around you. He absolutely, positively adores your cuddle sessions. It's a wonderful retreat away from his obligations and foster father.

Jaghatai Khan - You're holding on to him for dear life while he goes fast so there goes your cuddle session. He's really the one who has no objections to cuddling but he doesn't actively seek them out, either.

Konrad Curze - Does looming over you smirking like a deranged gremlin count as cuddling? If so, then... nice!

Angron - One of the many reasons he has to hate the Nails. Wants your touch. Yearns for it, actually, and if he didn't have them, he'd have Mortarion beat as the clingiest koala to ever cling. Instead, he has to contend with thought and you have to contend with the crazed way he looks at you. Cheers, darling.

Corvus Corax - Cuddling him is like being enveloped by the comfortable darkness. Whenever you're surrounded by it, you're secure in his arms.

Alpharius - You cuddle one, you cuddle them all. Cuddle pile!

[bleedingichorhearts]

Ideally open to who this tickles your fancy on! But!

There are ways to purposely woo someone- apparel, posing, pictures, texts, etc. What about something you do without realizing that drives them wild? Could be mundane, could be situational, could be a meal, could be a gesture! Anything goes!

“Oh? How sweet. I shall make a lil head cannon for all of them. I kept going in and out of this one.😭” - Ichor

Summary - “What drives the Emperor & Primarchs wild about you? More so what they like about you.”

TW // Not of Lore Cuteness?

||Masterlist Is Pinned Post||

The Emperor; “Revelation:”

Tricky man god this one is, for he has lived and see anything and everything. His emotions going cold and unreadable with time, and so does his preferences. However, I do think he would find the humaneness of you… “adoring.” Perhaps your refusal of him too. It just.. reminds him.

Lion El’Johnson; “The First:”

He likes the mere way you move. Something about it… excites him. Either with grace or not he still feels like it’s *cough* *cough* “admirable.” Well, not the times where you trip over thin air, but he somehow finds that… “cute,” he dares to think. Will he tell you? No, will you know? Yes, because the bastard comments about how frail you are when you trip. (P.S. Don’t ever call him a bastard.)

Fulgrim; “The Phoenician:”

This Demi-god will love anything about what you do or what you look like. Ain’t nothing stopping him from spewing any positive, teasing words. You, the whole being of you, is his wild card. Just seeing you excites him; and either it would be romantic or the Daemon Prince of him. You are his heart. You work him to his admiration.

Perturabo; “Lord of Iron:”

Messing with his tools. Something about you being curious of what he crafts with pleases him. His eyes watching as you observe them and then questioning him about them. That you take an interest in his work, or well, what makes his work. It feels nice.

Jaghatai Khan; “The Warhawk:”

Riding with him on his bike. He honestly likes when you suggest to ride with him, even if it’s short or not. He likes the little feeling of warmth of your body against him, letting the wind speak between the two of you. It as if he isn’t truly alone…

Leman Russ; “The Wolf King:”

Hunting with him and his sons! It’s very thrilling and exciting for him! Well, not much for you, but still! He enjoys to have your presence around him, if you’re watching him or not, but if you do hunt with him. He likes your skill on putting down a kill. It also gives this wolf man an excuse to show off. ;)

Rogal Dorn; “Praetorian of Terra:”

When you overlook the building plans. He feels very pleased when you look them over and reject them or accept them. Never judging you when you rejected them for it means something can be better within the blueprints. He never thinks that you wouldn’t necessarily dislike them for he is a good man of taste.☕️

Konrad Cruze; “Dark King:”

Just being in his presence while he just… stares you down. Trying to think of why you look at him like that, like he means something to you, and not in the bad way either. I drives his mind to figure you out more… He concludes that he finds you… memorizing when your heart beats a bit faster than necessary.

Sanguinius; “The Angel:”

The way you seem to trust him and his legion despite the horrors it brings. He has a keen eye for what people like and dislike, and his legion is… part of it. He knows baselines; enemies do not like “vampires,” but you honestly don’t seem to mind and that makes his heart’s flutter. You do not judge them for their beauty or the blood straining their fangs and hands.

Ferrus Manus; “The Gorgon:”

Trying to help him with his crafts. He likes it when you join in and inquire about what he is doing. His firm a bit more at ease when you’re around to question or help him. His… hands engulfing yours with ease and he can’t help but be amused and… grateful with you. You’re learning his crafts, but not demanding; wanting to be an emotionless, metal sentinel.

Angron; “The Red Angel:”

Your ability to be in his presence despite his anger literally clawing at his mind. It… almost surprises him. He expects you to run; turn away from his pained fury, but you don’t. You… endure it like a slave would to a whip… He doesn’t deserve you…

Roboute Guilliman; “The Avenging Son:”

Reading him something. He would pause in his work to listen or perhaps call you over to him as some background noise while he does his work. He finds himself soothed, and well… less alone. His shoulders a bit lighter than before. He is… also grateful of you.

Mortarion; “Death Lord:”

Gardens. Take this Death Lord through the gardens and just… shoot out some random facts. Bring some petals up close to him, let him smell the very different air quality and beauty of the worlds. The man would be just happy that you’re including him into something that could be easily be destroyed by chemicals…

Magnus The Red; “Crimson King:”

Honestly, anything you do with a book. You have a book in your hand? Your tongue sticking out in focus, or how you try and figure out the position of some… things. It warms his heart and makes him amused. He also likes it’s when you inquire about his own knowledge and try to learn from his as well.

Horus Lupercal; “The Lupercal:”

The way you speak. He loves it. He loves you. Honestly, you could do anything and this man would still look at you like love at first sight. This man is a hopeless romantic for you. Well, there are some bounds, but still! You get his heart fluttering when you’re by his side.

Lorgar Aurelian; “The Urizen:”

Take an interest in anything he does. Compliment him, give him praise and he shall melt under your fingertips. He just wants true, loving attention and you? Well, you’re giving him it willing and shall praise you in return. It’s almost like two oblivious lovers, but neither gets a room lol.

Vulkan; “Lord of Drakes:”

When you try to gift him back. This maybe a gifting war, but he still loves it nevertheless. He gifts you, and you gift back. He’s amused by your audacity to do such, but he also just… loves it. Cuteness aggression style. So, the mini lover forge wars has started.

Corvus Corax; “The Raven Lord:”

Playing with his crows. He finds a strange… feeling when he watches you. How you coo at them and talk to them as if they are capable of giving you a full sentence. How you pet the gently and give them little not-so-sneaky snacks when he’s not looking…

Alpharius & Omegon; “The Last Primarch:”

Mystery’s and solve. These guys like being detectives or blackmailing. They like knowing things and then gatekeeping it, and this includes you too. They like when you get curious though and come to them for the answers they could provide. Not without something of course.

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666, @ilovewolvezz.” - Tagged