Call Of Duty Ghosts - Blog Posts

Hide your wife the alpha is here🗣️🗣️

Logan in da pit

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Ashes of Yesterday

18-19 hesh walker X fem!reader! [my idea]

summary: A once cozy and intimate evening with Hesh, filled with quiet affection and whispered promises, soon transformed into something darker, a love shadowed by impending ruin. The looming presence of ODIN disrupted everything, turning your shared moment into a fleeting memory of what could have been. In the aftermath, uncertainty reigns—was Hesh still alive, still breathing, or had the chaos swallowed him whole, leaving behind only echoes of a love now distant and unresolved?

notes: SFW, then slight NSFW

2017 JULY 10TH

The golden sun hung low in the sky, bleeding its last light across the horizon where the sea and sky met in a seamless embrace. Waves rolled in gently, their white foamy edges kissing the shore before retreating, leaving behind darkened patches of damp sand that clumped together before crumbling away. The scent of salt and the distant call of seagulls filled the air, mingling with the soft whispers of the evening breeze. You stood there, feet sinking ever so slightly into the cool, wet earth, your eyes fixed on the endless stretch of water that shimmered under the sun’s dying glow.

You were waiting.

The thought was almost enough to make your heart race, though you steadied it with a slow breath. Of course, it was him—you were waiting for your boyfriend. Hesh. Or David. You had always preferred that name, something about the way it rolled off your tongue, the way it carried a sense of quiet strength. You whispered it under your breath, testing how it sounded against the hush of the waves.

The sun’s reflection danced on the water, stretching out like golden veins against a shield of deepening blue. It was mesmerizing—the way the light clashed and intertwined with the restless sea, fighting to hold on just a little longer before the inevitable descent into night. Just like time, just like memories. Just like the feeling building up inside you as you stood there, waiting for him.

It was already 11 a.m.

A sigh slipped past your lips as you glanced at your phone, your patience wearing thin. You hated how he sometimes showed up late on dates, how time seemed to be nothing more than a suggestion to him. But then again… whatever that handsome face was doing, you could never stay mad for long.

Because David—yes, David—wasn't like the others. He wasn’t like the teenage boys who stumbled through their words or the young men who tried too hard to impress. He carried himself differently, with a quiet confidence that made your heart race. His strong, well-built frame, the kind that spoke of strength without arrogance. That voice—deep, rich, dripping with a natural charm that sent a thrill down your spine every time he spoke. Oh, and those lips. God, you could kiss him forever, drown in the warmth of his embrace, lose yourself in the way he made you feel…

A sudden sound shattered your thoughts.

The sharp crunch of footsteps against the sand. Steady, deliberate, familiar.

You turned instinctively, already knowing. The weight of his presence, the way he walked, the way even the smallest sounds seemed to carry meaning when he was near—you could recognize him anywhere.

And there he was.

David.

“David, you fuck—” The words shot out before you could stop them, frustration bubbling up as you turned to face him, ready to argue about his horrible sense of time.

But before you could go on, his arm was already around your waist, pulling you in with that effortless strength of his. And just like that, the fire in your chest wavered. He was smiling, that lazy, charming smile that had a way of making you forget why you were mad in the first place. His eyes drank you in like a man starved, like he had been counting the seconds until he could see you again.

“Miss me?” His voice was a low murmur, teasing, smooth as ever.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. A part of you wanted to melt into him, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“I would keep missing you by not going out with you anymore. Is that what you want?” You arched a brow, your tone sharp, but he only sighed, his smile never faltering.

Shaking his head at your words, he met your gaze, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your waist. “Babe, you know how busy I get.” yup with daddy training.

There it was. The excuse. One you had heard before, one you understood but still hated.

The city hums softly around you as the cool air whispers past. But none of it touches you—not the chill, not the restless rhythm of the world—because his arms are wrapped securely around you, holding you close as you walk together. His dark grey jacket is thick and slick, carrying the scent of crisp air and something undeniably him. The fabric brushes against your cheek as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

His dark green pants rustle slightly with each step, a quiet rhythm against the pavement. The sound blends with his voice—low, rich, and endlessly smooth, like raindrops sliding down glass. It drips into your ears, every word soaked in something warm, something familiar. "How was your day?" he asks, his voice melting into the cool morning.

You sigh, your own voice slipping easily into the space he’s made for you. "It was fine," you murmur, though the way you relax against him says more than words ever could.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your skin. "Just fine?" There's something playful in his tone, something that makes the corner of your lips tug upward despite yourself.

The world feels distant, blurred behind the warmth of him, behind the quiet intimacy of a simple walk. And in this moment, wrapped in the sound of his voice and the steady warmth of his embrace, the rest of the night ceases to matter.

"I literally just started the day with you, david."

-----------------------------------------

small roadside diner, the kind that seems frozen in time. Neon lights buzz overhead, casting a soft pink and blue glow onto the pavement, their reflection shimmering in puddles left by a recent drizzle. Through the wide windows, the warm glow of the interior spills out, painting the time with something that feels familiar, something that feels like home.

Inside, the scent of sizzling burgers and fresh coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the distant hum of an old-school jukebox that crackles with a song from decades past. Red leather booths line the walls, their surfaces softened by years of late-night conversations and quiet moments shared over plates of fries and milkshakes. The clink of plates, the low murmur of conversations—it all feels like background noise to the only thing that really matters: him.

Before you even have a chance to glance at the menu, he orders—your usual. Not in a way that makes you feel small, but in a way that makes you feel known. Like he’s memorized the details of you without even trying, like he’s paid attention in all the little moments when no one else did.

"You always take forever to decide anyway,and end up with the same thing" he says with a smirk, his voice dripping with that effortless warmth, that teasing edge that makes you roll your eyes but smile anyway.

He doesn’t sit across from you. No, he slides into the booth right beside you, close enough that the heat of his body seeps through his jacket, through your sweater, through the space that barely exists between you. His thigh presses against yours under the table, solid, grounding. One arm stretches along the back of the booth, not quite touching you, but close enough that you feel the weight of him there. A quiet claim.

You reach over without hesitation, plucking a few golden fries from his plate and popping them into your mouth. The salty warmth melts on your tongue as you give him a defiant look, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Oh, really? Then gimme your fries."

He doesn’t protest—just watches you with that unreadable expression, shaking his head as he raises his hands in surrender. "I mean..." he drawls, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "they were there before we got here."

Your chewing slows. The flavor in your mouth suddenly seems questionable. You blink at him, processing his words, and his eyes flicker with amusement as he leans back against the booth, watching your reaction unfold.

"Bon appétit, babe," he adds smoothly, voice thick with mock innocence.

Your stomach drops. Your eyes widen. Wait... what?!

He doesn’t break character, just sits there, arms stretched along the back of the booth, looking effortlessly smug as you freeze mid-chew. The betrayal. The horror. Are these—were these—leftover fries?!

You stare at him, your entire existence now hinging on whether he’s serious or just messing with you. And that’s when you see it—the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips, the glimmer of laughter barely contained behind his cool expression.

You grab a napkin, ready to spit them out if necessary. "You’re kidding, right?"

He finally breaks, a low chuckle escaping as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Relax, princess. They’re fresh, took some before ya."

You shove his arm, groaning as he laughs, the sound deep and unbothered. You should’ve known better. He always does this—always keeps you on your toes, always finds a way to turn the moment into something his.

-----------------------------------

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes your lips as you glance at David, eyebrows raised. "Oh my god, David. You must be tipsy or something. Why would you wanna order a milkshake with two straws? That’s just too cheesy!" You almost can’t believe your own words—yet here you are, staring at him as he casually sits back in his booth, the grin never leaving his face.

David chuckles softly, adjusting his position like he's already won. He stretches his arms out lazily, his casual demeanor only making him seem more dangerous in his charm. His eyes glint with mischief as he leans forward, elbows on the table.

"Come on, babe. It’s romantic," he says, voice dripping with that playful confidence that makes you both roll your eyes and want to punch him at the same time.

You stare at him, your lips parted in disbelief. Romantic? You feel your face scrunch in a mix of amusement and disbelief. The sheer cheesiness of it hits you all at once—yet, there’s a spark of something else, something you can’t quite place. "Oh, wow..." You shrug dramatically, trying to feign disinterest, but the way your lips curl upward betrays you.

David leans back, watching you with the same unshakable grin, as if he knows you’re secretly enjoying his ridiculousness. He knows he’s won, and the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s savoring the moment.

The waitress arrives a moment later, balancing the absurdity on her tray—a milkshake in a glass, topped with whipped cream and a cherry, two straws sticking out from either side. You look at it, then back at David, who meets your gaze with exaggerated sweetness.

"See? It’s just like the movies," he says, his voice a little too syrupy for comfort.

You roll your eyes, but deep down, you can’t help the warmth that spreads across your chest. Maybe it is cheesy, but it’s him. And you can’t deny that, despite yourself, there’s something a little romantic about this absurd moment.

"Fine," you sigh, grabbing one of the straws, and you watch his face light up as he grabs the other. He’s always so effortlessly him, and no matter how cheesy he gets, you kind of love it.

The laughter never stops, rippling through the both of you as you try to sip from the milkshake at the same time. It’s absurd, ridiculous, but you can’t seem to stop, even as you both end up laughing harder with every awkward slurp. David’s totally watching you out of the corner of his eye, trying to act all cool and nonchalant, but you can see the mischief dancing in his gaze. His lips curl with a grin every time you pull the straw from your mouth at the same time, as if he's savoring every goofy second of it.

You can feel him in your peripheral vision, that silent, confident he knew this would be fun vibe radiating off him, like he’s having the time of his life with this stupidly romantic moment. But the second his eyes meet yours, that playful glint falters. For a second, he hesitates, and you catch it—a flicker of something else. It’s almost as if the whole scene becomes suddenly too intimate for him, too real.

He pulls away with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as if this whole thing was a little too much even for him. "This is so stupid," he mutters, but you can tell he’s loving every second of it—loving you.

You, on the other hand, are struggling to keep it together, your face turning pink as you hold the milkshake up to your lips, trying desperately to control your laughter. "David, stop! I’m gonna choke on it!" you manage to say between fits of giggles, though the words sound barely coherent because of the laughter bubbling up inside you.

He’s not making it any better. Each time you say something, he lets out another chuckle, the sound rich and warm, just enough to make you nearly lose it all over again. The look in his eyes softens as he watches you try to compose yourself, that lovestruck gaze creeping up on him despite his attempt to stay cool.

And there it is—that soft, unmistakable look on his face when he pulls back from the milkshake. It’s almost too much—he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in this little corner of the world, and all that teasing, all that laughter fades away into something much deeper. Something warm. Something real.

God, you love him, you think, and in that split second, you can see he feels the same way, too.

You pull away from the milkshake, nearly spilling it, as your laughter bubbles over. "Stop it!!" you gasp between giggles, swatting at him playfully. The sound of his deep, wholesome laughter fills the diner, the kind that makes everything around you seem a little brighter, a little warmer. The moment stretches between the two of you like a beautiful, shared secret, and he turns his head away to stifle another chuckle, but you can still hear it—soft, full of love, the kind of laughter that makes your heart skip a beat. He just loves the way your eyes shine when you’re happy, loves seeing you this carefree.

Finally, the milkshake sits forgotten between you as you both catch your breath, the laughter dying down to a soft hum that lingers in the air, like a melody that won’t fade. You both smile at each other, the playful tension slowly melting away into something quieter, something more intimate.

And then it’s back to the streets again, your hands casually brushing against each other as you walk side by side. The time feels like it’s made just for you two—your feet moving in sync, It’s almost magical, the way everything feels so effortlessly right.

You both stop at a nearby ice cream cart, and he orders two cones—one chocolate, one vanilla. You lick at yours, slowly, savoring each bite. But before you can finish, he’s already done with his. Of course. Typical. He looks down at you with that mischievous smile of his, his eyes bright under the streetlights.

"You gonna finish that?" he asks, a playful edge to his voice, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But before you can even answer, you’re standing between his legs, your back resting against his chest as you keep eating, your ice cream melting slowly in the warmth of the light.

His arms slip around you, settling comfortably at your waist, pulling you closer. He leans against the brick wall, his chest solid and steady behind you, and for a moment, just feeling. The world feels distant, muted, like it’s all happening in slow motion around you.

You tilt your head back just slightly, meeting his gaze with that same teasing smile, and in that moment, everything is perfect. He holds you, not tightly, but enough to remind you that he’s there, that he’s yours, and this simple, silly time is the kind of memory that will last forever.

You finish your ice cream, the sweetness lingering on your lips, but it’s the warmth of his arms around you that makes your heart feel full—like you’ve found exactly where you’re meant to be.

---------------------------------

The date lingers like the final notes of a favorite song, the world around you quieting as the air grows colder, the warmth between the two of you still burning strong. You feel the weight of the moment, the way everything—every laugh, every glance, every touch—has led to this. But deep down, you both know it’s time to wrap up. And even though neither of you wants to face it, the inevitable is here.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen, his expression shifting just slightly. You know what’s coming before it even happens. "Hate saying goodbye," he mutters, his voice tinged with reluctant fondness as his thumb hovers over the call button. His eyes meet yours, the unspoken words hanging between you two. You both know the date is winding down, but neither of you is quite ready to let go.

his phone buzzed with a call from Elias, his campfire plans waiting. Of course, you think, feeling a twinge of disappointment in your chest. He takes the call, his voice low but laced with that same playful edge he always has.

"I should probably head back… but I don’t want to," he says, his words drifting into the cool air between you two, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else. The sincerity in his voice is enough to make your heart ache, a quiet longing tugging at you.

You turn toward him, giving him a little pout, and holding his arm like you don’t want to let go. "Seriously, just a few more minutes!" You’re pleading now, though you know it won’t make much difference. You’re asking for the impossible, but you can’t help it. You want more of this moment, more of him.

He chuckles softly, looking down at you with that same mixture of affection and reluctant amusement. "I don’t wanna go, ya know?" he admits, his voice softer now, like he’s wishing he could stretch the moment out forever too. "But the old man’s gonna lose it if I don’t show up for the campfire."

You can hear the quiet laughter in his voice, but there’s a flicker of something else—something real, something that tells you he feels it too. That feeling of not wanting to leave, not wanting this night, this connection to slip away. You both know the clock is ticking, and no matter how much you wish for more time, it’s slipping through your fingers.

As he reach up to your place, the step slows to a stop, the time now settled around you both like a soft blanket, almost too perfect to end. He glances over at you, his lips curling up into that familiar, lazy smile of his.

"Best damn date I’ve ever had." He says it like it's a simple fact, like there's no debate, and for a moment, you're not sure whether he’s talking about the milkshakes or the laughter, or maybe just you. It doesn’t matter. You feel the warmth of the moment settle between you, just as real and as easy as breathing.

You reach for the door handle, but before you can even make a move, he leans in, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. The sudden proximity, the softness of his touch, makes your heart skip. You freeze, your breath catching as he leans in, his lips brushing yours, slow and lingering—like he's savoring the moment, like he's trying to make sure it doesn’t slip away. You could stay like this forever, the world outside fading, everything narrowing down to just this—a kiss between two people who don’t want the night to end.

As his lips met yours, you could feel the intensity behind the kiss—a rush of warmth that made everything around you fade into the background. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, a quiet expression of concentration flickering across his face as if he was trying to savor every second, trying to make the moment last as long as possible. But there was something more behind it, something raw. It was clear: he didn’t just want this kiss, he wanted more. The way his body leaned into you, his lips pressed against yours with an almost desperate slowness, told you everything you needed to know.

Your breath hitched as his lips moved with a deep, unhurried tenderness, and you could feel the intensity building between you both. But before you even had a chance to process it, he pulled away just enough to look at you, eyes dark with something that felt like both hesitation and longing. And without another word, he leaned in again, this time kissing you more deeply, more urgently. His lips met yours with a heat that sent a rush of fire through your veins, and you found yourself pulling him closer, instinctively, your hands reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck, drawing him in.

His arm slid around your waist, lifting you just slightly off the ground, pulling you even closer. The movement was effortless for him, like he knew exactly how to hold you, how to make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. The kiss deepened, both of you lost in it, in the warmth and the pressure that seemed to build with every passing second.

And then, in the midst of it all, you both heard it. A loud whistle that traveled from one of the nearby houses—a neighbor who must’ve been watching. The sound of it, light and amused, almost seemed to break the bubble of heat surrounding you both, but it only made you both smile against each others lips, knowing you didn’t care who was watching, because this moment—this heated, tangled mess of emotions—was yours and his alone.

He pulled away just enough to glance at you, his breath ragged, both of you caught in the aftershock of what you’d just shared. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the neighbor’s teasing, not the time, not even the fact that the night had to end. You were right here, with him, wrapped up in something that felt both too big to fully understand and too perfect to let go of.

When he pulls away, it's with just enough space for him to look into your eyes, his voice a whisper, soft and teasing, just enough to make you smile. "Don’t get yourself too emotional to miss me, sweetheart," he says, the words wrapped in that familiar playful edge, a wink accompanying them.

You laugh softly, shaking your head, the lingering warmth of his kiss still dancing on your lips. "You’re such a tease," you reply, a smile tugging at your own lips.

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement, the teasing smile never leaving. There’s a moment of silence between you, but it’s comfortable, easy, like you both know this isn’t quite over—not yet.

With one last wink, he pulls back just a little, his fingers brushing over yours before he finally lets go. You watch him, standing there just a moment longer, like he’s reluctant to leave but knows he has to. And even as he walks off, part of you knows this goodbye is just a brief pause, a chapter that’s far from finished.

------------------------------------

me writing this fic to heal myself because i am like this rn with the problems are happening to me

"quickly you gotta save one!!"

them kids

U2

hesh walker

me:

"I can change him" Why?did he shit himself?

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Nurse for the Day

Logan walker X fem!reader! [requested!]

summary: Taking care of your sick bf logan, and staying by his side.

notes: SFW, sorry if this short I tried my best

Here he was, trapped in the prison of his own sheets, each breath a delicate negotiation through clogged passages. The flu had settled into his bones like an unwanted houseguest, making itself far too comfortable. His nose, betrayed him with every labored inhale, forcing him to breathe through his mouth in shallow, unsatisfying gasps.

The ceiling had become his unwilling companion, its blank canvas collecting the shadows of his boredom. Four hours? Five? Time had lost all meaning in this fevered state. His throat felt like he'd swallowed broken glass, each attempt to swallow sending sharp reminders of his condition. Even the simple act of sipping water had become an exercise in courage.

The worst part wasn't the physical discomfort—though God knew that was bad enough—but the maddening stillness. The world continued its chaotic dance outside his window while he lay here, a reluctant monk in a monastery of misery.

You slipped into the room, wet cloth in hand, a silent angel in the afternoon light. His face lit up at the sight of you, even through the haze of his fever—though honestly, it was hard to tell if that was love or delirium at this point.

"Babe, I think I'm dying," he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. His eyes were barely open, heavy-lidded and glassy, but still tracking your movement like you were his last hope for salvation.

You just shrugged, going about your careful ministrations. When you reached for his wrist to check his pulse, he seized the moment—and your hand—with all the dramatic flair of a man on his deathbed.

"Yeah, babe, hold my hand before I go"

"Logan, you're not going to die," you sighed, but there was no real exasperation in it. Just the fond weariness of someone who'd signed up for this particular brand of drama when they fell in love.

His fingers intertwined with yours, clammy but determined. A weak smile played across his fever-flushed face. "Of course you know I'm not going to die," he murmured, squeezing your hand. "You're an angel."

The words came out soft and sincere, stripped of his earlier theatrics. Even sick as a dog, he had these moments—these little glimpses of the heart beneath the humor that made you fall in love with him in the first place. You pressed the cool cloth to his forehead, hiding your smile as he leaned into your touch like it was the only medicine he needed.

"Don't let me kiss you here, or you'll get me fever," you warned him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you tended to him. He looked so vulnerable there, wrapped in blankets, his usually bright eyes clouded with fever. The warning came naturally—protecting him was second nature, but protecting yourself from him? That was new.

He watched you through half-closed eyes, and even in his miserable state, the love in his gaze was unmistakable. If anyone had to be sick, he was glad it was him. The thought of you going through this—of you being the one burning up with fever—made his already aching chest tighten further. No, better him than you, gorgeous. Always better him than you.

"You should be out having some fun," he murmured, eyes finally drifting shut as you adjusted the cool cloth on his forehead. His voice was rough, scratchy, but the concern in it was clear as day. Here he was, feeling like death warmed over, and still worrying about you wasting your time.

"And let you suffer alone? No chance." The words came out firm, brooking no argument. You weren't going anywhere, and both of you knew it. Some people might call it stubborn, but this was love in its purest form—staying when it's inconvenient, when it's messy, when someone's used up three boxes of tissues and can't stop complaining about their throat.

His lips quirked up slightly at your response, even as he sank deeper into his pillow. Even sick, he was beautiful to you—fever-flushed cheeks and all. Maybe he looked like a mess, but he was your mess, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

The fever clung to him like a second skin, heat radiating from his body in waves. You pressed the cool, damp cloth against his forehead, feeling the way his skin burned beneath it. His hair was damp with sweat, strands sticking messily to his forehead. Absentmindedly, your fingers combed through them, a quiet attempt at comfort.

His breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling with effort, each inhale shaky, each exhale laced with exhaustion. The dim light in the room cast soft shadows over him, highlighting the hollowness in his cheeks, the way fever had stolen the usual sharpness from his expression.

"Better?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter him completely.

His lips curled into a weak smile, though his eyes remained shut. For a moment, it seemed as though he might actually drift into the sleep his body so desperately needed. But then, with a raspy chuckle, he muttered, "Nah. Kill me, please."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking your head. Even sick, he couldn’t resist the dramatics. You brushed a few more damp strands away from his face, watching as his expression relaxed slightly under your touch.

----------------------

After a week of battling fever and exhaustion, Logan finally felt like himself again. The weight of sickness had lifted, leaving behind a sense of newfound freedom—no more aching muscles, no more suffocating warmth, no more restless, fevered dreams. He stretched his limbs as if testing them, relishing the absence of pain.

Wandering into the room, he found you at your desk, quietly organizing scattered papers and trinkets. The soft sound of shuffling filled the space, your focus entirely on the task at hand. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you, something warm and unspoken settling in his chest.

Without a word, he stepped forward, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he peered over to see what you were doing. You stilled for a moment but didn’t push him away, allowing his presence to settle against you like something familiar, something missed.

"You’re the best, you know that?" he murmured, voice still slightly rough from the remnants of his illness.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "I kept you alive, at least."

He chuckled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Exactly, angel." Logan turned his head slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the curve of your shoulder.

“And by the way,” you added, tilting your head slightly as his arms remained snug around your waist, “you’re only better because of the medication—not because of me.”

Logan hummed in fake consideration, lips grazing your cheek in lazy, repeated pecks. “Mmm, debatable,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, though a smirk played at your lips. “Oh, please. You barely took them. I had to bribe, threaten, and practically beg you.”

He groaned, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “They taste like absolute shit.”

You scoffed, pulling back just enough to glance at him. “Either you take them, or I put them into you myself.” Your voice carried a teasing warning, but the glint in your eyes said you meant business.

Logan lifted his head, eyes flickering with mischief. “Kinda into that,” he muttered with a smirk.

Before you could react, he grabbed your arms and spun you effortlessly, flipping you around until you were pressed against him, face to face. Your breath hitched as he grinned, mischief painted all over his expression.

Without another word, Logan leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss, you leaned into him, his grip on your arms tightened, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, warm and consuming, and you forgot all about the teasing, the frustrations over the medicine, the playful banter that had filled the room moments before. It was just the two of you—lost in the softness of the moment, the world outside slipping away.

His lips moved against yours with a quiet urgency, as though making up for lost time, a week of illness and silence melting into something sweeter. You responded in kind, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, the touch so familiar, yet still full of that spark that made your heart race.

When the kiss finally broke, you both lingered close, breaths mingling, foreheads resting together as the room fell into a peaceful silence.

“Guess the meds worked after all,” you whispered with a smile, your voice still a little breathless.

Logan chuckled, his nose brushing against yours in that way he always did when he was being affectionate, but still trying to keep things light. “Yeah, well, I'd be a gooner if it weren't you"

You laughed softly, and he pulled you back into a tighter hold, All that matter is that your sweet boy is alright and breathing.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

The first "I love you" in the relationship [requested]

characters: Logan walker, Hesh walker, Keegan russ, kick

notes: SFW content, kinda chessy for me since i love angst more than this shit but whatever man whatever this fandom wants

Logan walker:

yeah you are the first who is going to say it don't argue with me.

Logan struggles with words and would never rush into saying it.

tbh i think logan has never had partners in his life :(, he kept training not knowing anything about love.

sometimes i think hesh is the one who couraged him to date and elias too, telling him that he has been more than 30 years serving for this country and even though.

elias controlled and balanced the love and working with his mother.

It happens A late-night moment at home, when he’s quiet but seems lost in thought.

I think when you have been dating for months? like more than 8 months.

You’re curled up against Logan, watching, but he’s barely paying attention. His mind is elsewhere—probably thinking about a mission he can’t talk about.

You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He sighs closing his eyes, leaning into your touch and getting out of the blurred world he was in.

"I love you, you know that?" you said lifting your head up to look at him.

Logan freezes,oh boy even his body tensing slightly against you, you can feel that already.

Logan’s eyes widen slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it—even though he’s felt it for a while.

He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words but failing.

Instead of answering right away, he gently pulls you into his arms, holding you tighter than usual. After a short pause, he finally murmurs, “…I love you too.” which made you smile into his arm, you were proud of that to let this sweet boy speak of his feeling.

Later, he shows it rather than says it—staying close, kissing you, covering you in blanket when he thinks you're asleep, and making sure you’re always safe.

because words aren’t enough, but he hopes you can feel it.

Hesh walker:

he will say it first, But he blurts it out impulsively.

hesh is the one with partners but i see he had 3 or 2? and they weren't that serious they didn't reach that level with him.

but since he is a grown ass man (28) he found you

going out with him for classic dates.

It happenes in a playful moments while teasing each other.

in the kitchen, you kept arguing playfully talking back to him gahly! he thinks to himself how did i get with a woman like this.

"god you're impossible...I love you" he said with a soft shrug hands on his hips looking down smiling.

he said it without thinking, The moment he realizes what he just said, he freezes, eyebrows raising slightly like "Well… guess that’s out now."

and you had butterflies and bugs in your stomach like hello? did this handsome just tell me that??

"oh my god david?!" you said with a happy chuckle, heart already out of your chest "you just said this!!".

you wanted to step closer to him, He watches your reaction closely, trying to act all cool and confident but is secretly panicking inside.

you shaking your head while holding his face, which lead him to hold both your arms. "I love you too!"

his grin turns soft, and he pulls you in for a tight hug, whispering, "Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere."

totally forgetting about the baking yall been making out. (wtf did i just type)

Keegan russ:

bro why is it so hard to write keegan, like this man is a hella mystery.

you are the one who said it sorry, cuz Keegan is way too guarded to say it first.

why i think he thought about his job first before you like he hates it if you are involved with someone like him, what if something danger happened to you because of him?he is way too cautious.

but because of those damn eyes of yours the weakest thing he will do is keeping you with him.

how did it happenes? late night walking, this man adores these times secretly especially after he has been with ya.

i think he ended up with a talk active partner? but no that much, he is just a listener and a talker sometimes.

you like it when he talks, his creative words and the sarcasm he is using making you say unbelievable about him.

He had insisted on walking you home—not out of obligation, but because it was simply in his nature.

When you reached your doorstep, you turned, your fingers curling around the doorknob. The soft glow of the porch light cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw, the glint of something unreadable in his eyes. (lord have mercy i got too much in details)

“Well, kid," his deep voice rumbled through the quiet, rough yet familiar, "guess I’ll see you around.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips, warmth flickering in your chest at the easy finality in his tone. He turned, hands tucked into his pockets, ready to disappear into the night like he always did. (bro is batman but he never tell you that)

“Keegan?” The name left your lips before you could think twice, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him stop.

His shoulders stiffened for the briefest moment before he turned back to you, his lightened gaze steady.

You didn’t wait any longer—you just walked up to him, arms wrapping around his neck. His eyes met yours, and God, it was so hard to be honest while looking into them. It seemed just as hard for him.

He was stunned, motionless, but his gaze remained stoic, unreadable.

“I love you,” you murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He took a moment, then let out a stiff chuckle. “Must be the champain messing with your little head.”

“Shut up. I said it… I love you.” The second time, your voice was firmer. That’s when his eyes softened, a rare smile tugging at his lips—your first time seeing him like this. Gentle.

For a long time, he doesn’t speak. The silence stretches, heavy—almost unbearable.

Then, finally, he whispers—so quiet you almost miss it.

His fingers close over yours, grip tightening as if grounding himself in the moment.

He exhales, then presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

“…I love you too.”

Then he went to the shadows of the streets and after that time, you never see him again...

im joking bye.

Kick:

Kick is always aware—sharp, cautious, both in his military work and personal life. Nothing slips past him.

He never talks about his partner. He’s a ghost, a skillful one. Never caught, never seen unless he wants to be. Have you seen the kill list? He’s needed, and yet the feds can’t find him.

He doesn’t have trust issues, not exactly—but he’s careful. Always watching, always a step ahead. Especially when it comes to his relationships.

He even hesitated to date you, afraid you’d get hurt because of his work—afraid that if anything happened, he’d never forgive himself. Not even in death.

But he went for it anyway. Because he knew how to protect you. He kept you far from enemies, tracked every possible threat—all without you even knowing. He was secretive like that.

Man fuck the enemies he thought, he is in his 30s and we live one time why don't just have a partner in ur life?.

Not even the gang knew he had a partner. Only Merrick, who one day casually let it slip in front of him—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

So he said it it just slips out casually not knowing the effect he will do on ya.

He said it during a random completely unromantic moment.

He doesn’t even realize what he said until your eyes widen. "Oh, damn. Did I just say that?"

You shrugged, still shocked. “Uhm… yeah, you did!” You shook your head, trying to process it.

He tried to play it off, acting like it was no big deal. “Well, yeah, of course I love you. Have you seen yourself?”

You couldn’t find the words. Your eyes softened as you looked at him, still stunned, heart pounding in your chest.

But when he saw you getting emotional, the act dropped. He smiled—small, genuine—and muttered, “Alright… yeah. I love you. For real.”

And later, he proved it. Small, silent acts of devotion—fixing things for you without being asked, making sure your coffee was just right, staying up just to watch you sleep peacefully.

Aha.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

From romance to ruff

Logan walker X fem! reader!

Summary: It’s movie night with your boyfriend Logan, and everything seems perfect—until Riley, the playful dog, decides he’s the star of the evening. Jumping onto the couch, he wedges himself between you two, tail wagging like crazy, completely disrupting Logan’s plans for a cozy date.

notes:SFW then slight NSFW

The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the flickering light from the TV screen, casting elongated shadows on the walls like silent sentinels. You sat there, as if time had slowed, the minutes stretching into what felt like eternity. The only sounds that punctuated the stillness were the faint crackling noises from the kitchen—Logan, standing by the stove, making popcorn. Each crack and pop seemed to echo louder than the last, a rhythm that held you captive in its cadence.

Your fingers idly toyed with the remote in your hands, flipping between channels without truly seeing any of them, the click of the buttons blending into the backdrop of your thoughts. The glow from the television screen painted your face with a pale hue, casting fleeting shadows over your features. You waited—no, you hovered between anticipation and the comfort of the familiar, like a gentle pull at the edges of your consciousness.

Logan stepped out of the kitchen, the sound of the microwave’s hum fading as he took a deep breath, relieved. Finally, he thought, finally he’d have some time with you tonight. The promise of shared silence, perhaps a quiet laugh, a peaceful moment of togetherness. But as he walked into the dimly lit living room, bowl of popcorn in hand, his eyes fell upon something he hadn’t quite anticipated.

Riley, the dog, was sitting by your side—staring at you with those wide, expectant eyes. The little rascal had claimed his spot next to you, sniffing eagerly at your leg like it was a prize. Before Logan could even react, Riley, as if to seal his spot, leaned in and gave you a big, slobbery lick on your cheek.

You couldn’t help it. A soft giggle bubbled up from your throat, the warm sound mixing with the quiet of the room. The light from the TV flickered across your face as you smiled at the dog’s antics, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Logan stood there for a moment, frozen. The bowl of popcorn dangled loosely in his hand, his face blank, a look of disbelief slowly spreading over his features.

"Oh, nah…" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper but laced with an unmistakable mix of exasperation and fondness. It wasn’t a surprise, really. Riley had always been the one to claim attention first, and tonight was no exception.

"really riley?"

FLASHBACK

Logan sat at the table, a stack of files spread out before him, his eyes scanning through the papers with that focused, almost detached look. The quiet hum of the living room was soothing, the glow of the TV screen casting fleeting shadows on the walls as he worked. But his peace was about to be interrupted.

The door to the living room creaked open, and there stood Hesh, dressed in his jacket with a hurried energy, adjusting the collar like he was about to dash out the door. His voice cut through the silence, casual as ever.

“Hey, Lo, we’re heading out. Me and the old man,” Hesh called, as if it was a simple statement of fact, no need for elaboration. Logan nodded without looking up, offering a soft hum of acknowledgment as he continued flipping through the files.

But Hesh wasn’t done. He paused by the door, hand on the handle, and glanced back over his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way, don’t forget to feed Riley at six PM," he added, almost as an afterthought, his tone carrying that easygoing nonchalance.

Logan’s pen froze mid-air, and for a moment, time seemed to still. He slowly leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking from the files to Hesh, a frown forming across his brow.

"Don’t forget to what?" Logan echoed, his voice thick with confusion as the words finally registered in his brain. His eyes widened, then narrowed in disbelief. He sat there for a moment longer, blinking in stunned silence before giving his head a small shake.

Hesh, unfazed, just shrugged, a casual grin spreading across his face as he adjusted his jacket. “You heard me,” he said, his voice light as he stepped toward the door. "You know how Riley gets when he misses his dinner. You’ve got this, right?"

Logan’s mouth opened and closed as if searching for words that wouldn’t come. "I—" He didn’t even know where to start. His mind was racing, images of Riley’s well-meaning but relentless face suddenly flooding his thoughts. And now, it was on him? this time? while he has a date?

Hesh, clearly amused by Logan's momentary confusion, turned and gave a small wave. "Alright, catch you later, Don’t let the pup starve.” And with that, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving Logan staring at the space Hesh had just occupied.

He let out a long, resigned sigh, dropping his head into his hands for a brief moment before glancing over at Riley, who was now wagging his tail innocently.

"Six PM... yeah, sure," Logan muttered to himself, shaking his head with a smirk. As if he didn’t already have a million things to do.

------------------

There he was. Riley, the true master of the living room, perched comfortably on the couch where Logan had once claimed his territory. His eyes gleamed with mischief, tail wagging in silent triumph, as if he had already decided that tonight, he would take the throne. The dog’s smug expression was clear: "try me" It was a look that only Logan had seen on his face before—a mischievous spark that made it clear Riley knew exactly what he was doing.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Riley, in all his glory, was sitting beside you, looking quite pleased with himself as he waited, almost too eagerly, for the next offering. With a playful grin, you extended the bowl of popcorn towards him, as if he was already part of the plan—though deep down, you both knew that Riley wasn’t quite the co-conspirator he might appear to be.

Riley took the offering in stride, his nose twitching as he sniffed the popcorn before gently plucking a piece with a careful, dainty nibble. He had already claimed his spot on the couch, his legs sprawled out as if he’d lived there all his life. He exuded an air of utter satisfaction, as though he were entitled to all the comforts that had once been Logan’s.

Logan, still standing by the edge of the room, watched the scene unfold with a quiet mix of disbelief and resignation. He could hear the lighthearted tone in your voice as you called out to him.

"Logan, come on!"

It was a playful invitation, a hint of laughter in your voice as you beckoned him back to the couch. Logan stood there for a moment, a deep sigh escaping him. His eyes flickered to Riley—who was now fully settled in, smug as ever—and then back to you, his expression softening in amusement. He could tell what was happening before you even spoke the words.

“Well, well…” Logan muttered to himself, though his words were meant only for him to hear. He stared at Riley, his mouth curving into a reluctant grin. “Guess it is Riley, after all."

As the movie began, Logan made his way over to the couch, moving toward the empty spot beside you. But as he reached the edge of the cushion, he found himself facing a small, furry obstacle—Riley, who was already sprawled out in the middle of the couch, as if he owned it. The dog didn’t even flinch as Logan approached; he was too comfortable, too at ease, his tail giving a small wag before he settled back into his spot.

Logan sat down with a soft sigh, not exactly annoyed but a little thrown off. He had hoped for a quiet night with just you, the two of you tucked away in the soft warmth of the living room, sharing a movie. But it seemed Riley had different plans. The dog was practically sandwiched between the two of you now, his head resting on the armrest, eyes flicking between you both with an air of calm superiority. Logan hadn’t expected the little furball to be this clingy.

Logan tried to push the thought aside and reached for the bowl of popcorn you were holding, the soft kernels looking so tempting. But as his arm stretched out, a small furry paw blocked his hand, as if Riley was playing the role of the uninvited bouncer. Logan's fingers hovered, unsure of how to proceed. He was almost this close to grabbing a piece when Riley, with a perfectly timed and unbothered stare, locked eyes with him.

Logan froze, his hand still suspended in the air, and turned his head from the TV screen to find Riley staring back at him with an expression that was as blank as it was baffling. The dog’s eyes were wide, unblinking, giving Logan the sort of look that only Riley could pull off—a mix of curiosity and mild disdain, as if to say, I’m here now. What’s the problem?

Logan blinked, confusion creeping up on him as his eyebrows furrowed. Was this some sort of challenge? Was Riley guarding the popcorn now? A strange mix of amusement and disbelief washed over him as he realized that, yes, Riley had just become the popcorn police.

"Really?" Logan muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. But Riley only stared, unyielding, his posture unbothered. It was as if the dog had all the time in the world to continue sitting between the two of you, blocking his snack, and maybe even giving him that silent challenge to try and take it from him.

You turned to Logan, a look of genuine confusion flickering across your face as you noticed him staring at Riley with a mix of disbelief and mild frustration. "Did you say something?" you asked, your voice light, oblivious to the silent drama unfolding between Logan and the dog.

Before Logan could even muster a response, Riley, ever the opportunist, took that as his cue to intervene. With a sudden shift, the little dog, clearly eager for attention, wiggled his way closer to you, his nose beginning its familiar inspection of your hands, sniffing curiously at you. The pause in the moment was fleeting, as Riley’s attention shifted quickly, his warm breath against your skin as he nuzzled up to you.

You smiled softly at the dog, the sudden intrusion only making you laugh. “Wow… I used to be scared of dogs,” you murmured, your voice full of fondness as you looked down at Riley’s sweet, yet slightly invasive behavior. “But this?” You met his gaze, a gentle smile playing at the corner of your lips, clearly charmed by the dog’s antics.

Logan, on the other hand, sat back slightly, watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and annoyance. He didn’t know what it was, but the sight of Riley—his smug little face—now claiming both your attention and the couch, was almost too much to bear. The way the dog pressed into your side, totally oblivious to Logan’s territorial desires, was enough to make him seriously question if he was sharing the couch with a dog or a roommate with a bad sense of humor. He was on the verge of strangling the little furball—though the thought was as fleeting as it was humorous.

Despite his internal struggle, Logan kept his calm outwardly. His eyes flicked from you to Riley, who had found his sweet spot beside you. The dog’s eyes were wide and innocent, completely unaware of the tension he was causing.

“Guess I shouldn't have listened to hesh and let him to the fed,” sorry Logan muttered under his breath, his tone teasing as he shifted on the couch, a resigned smile tugging at his lips. He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. You, so wrapped up in Riley’s affection, hadn’t even noticed Logan’s silent frustration.

You looked back at Logan, your smile bright as you completely ignored the fact that Riley was practically trying to climb into your lap. “What did you say babe?” you asked again, blissfully unaware of the tension in the air, your focus completely on Riley, who was already inching closer to make himself more comfortable.

Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, and then, with a half-hearted sigh, he gave in. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. "Just… never mind."

You finally understood the silent battle that was unfolding between Logan and Riley, the tiny furball who had unceremoniously claimed his spot in the middle of the couch. You could see the way Logan was trying to subtly nudge the dog aside, and after a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to play peacekeeper.

"Okay, Riley..." you said softly, leaning down to gently coax him off the couch. Your hands found his soft, warm body, and you tried to guide him down, but the dog was surprisingly heavy for his size. His solid weight made it harder than you'd anticipated, and for a moment, it was almost like trying to move a small boulder that didn't want to budge.

You gave him a light pat on the side, smiling down at his adorably clueless face. "You’ve got to go down now," you repeated, your voice a mixture of sweetness and mild amusement. Riley tilted his head, ears flicking as he looked up at you, clearly not quite understanding the urgency of the situation. His big brown eyes seemed to study you for a moment before he reluctantly shifted, letting out a soft huff of air as he slowly slunk down from the couch.

The moment he hit the floor, a soft whimper escaped his lips, as though he were protesting the abrupt end to his cozy night. You couldn’t help but smile at the sound, your heart melting just a little as you looked down at him.

"Ohh?" you cooed at Riley, your voice full of gentle affection as the dog began to trot away from the couch, his tail tucked low. You couldn't deny the tug of sympathy you felt for him. He wasn’t exactly happy about leaving your side, but at least he had your attention, even if it meant a little reluctant distance.

You turned back to Logan, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "There. Is that better?" you asked, clearly amused by the whole thing, as you settled back into the couch, now free of Riley's uninvited presence.

Logan let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as the weight of the little drama faded away. He finally leaned closer to you, the space between you two narrowing as he reached out, pulling you into him with a quiet ease. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you gently but firmly against his chest, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a soft, comforting blanket.

You rested yourself against him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear grounding you as you sank into the familiar comfort of his presence. The world outside of the living room—Riley's protests, the movie, the mundane worries—seemed to fade away in that moment. It was just you and Logan, with the comforting hum of the quiet night and the soft glow of the TV casting shadows around you.

"Much better," he murmured, a small, contented smile tugging at your lips as you nestled closer, feeling his warmth seep into you. It felt right—peaceful, calm. You could feel his smile against your hair as his chest rose and fell with every breath, his fingers gently tracing the curves of your waist, as if marking the moment, holding you just a little tighter.

-------------------------------

The movie ended, and with it came a blissful sense of peace that lingered in the air. The absence of Riley’s interruptions felt almost like a small victory, making the evening feel perfect in its simplicity. The room was dim now, the only light coming from the soft glow of the TV screen, the credits slowly rolling as if marking the end of the night’s little adventure. The stillness of the moment was rich and comforting, both of you simply existing in the space together, the warmth of your bodies pressed close, like a quiet promise of togetherness.

You turned to Logan, a playful smile curling at the edges of your lips as you felt a burst of lighthearted energy. Your eyes gleamed with mischief, and you couldn’t resist. "You didn’t plan on a movie night, right?" you teased, your tone light and full of curiosity. "I know you're not that boring." You pressed your hands gently against his chest, your fingers brushing lightly across the fabric of his shirt, the sensation grounding you in the moment.

Logan, caught off guard by the playful remark, smirked in response, his eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief that matched yours. Without a word, his hands moved slowly but confidently to your hips, guiding you a little closer as you rested on top of him. The shift in his posture was subtle, but it didn’t take long for you to feel the warmth of his hands against your skin, steady and sure.

"I don’t think you’ll say the word boring after this night," he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing, as he met your gaze with that familiar spark of mischief. His lips quirked up at the corners, his fingers pressing just slightly into your waist as if to underscore the quiet challenge in his words.

The tension between the playful teasing and the intimate closeness of the moment made your heart race a little faster. You felt the rhythm of your breathing match the quiet anticipation that hung in the air. The movie had ended, but the night—filled with more than just the flickering images on the screen—was just beginning.

You couldn’t help but smile, your gaze softening as you lingered in the warmth of his touch. "Oh really?" you whispered, leaning just a little closer, your lips brushing the edge of his ear in a teasing breath. "We’ll see about that."

Logan’s smirk widened, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink, just the two of you lost in that space, the world outside of the living room completely forgotten.

The moment your lips met, everything around you faded. The room, the lingering glow of the TV screen, even the subtle hum of the air seemed to quiet in comparison to the intensity between you both. Logan pulled you closer, his arms wrapping securely around your back, holding you against him like he never wanted to let go. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the pulse of his heart beneath his chest. Your breath mingled as you both closed your eyes, lost in the sensation of the kiss, in the tension that simmered just beneath the surface—unspoken but undeniably there.

Time felt like it slowed down, the kiss stretching into something almost sacred, yet electric. The world outside the two of you seemed distant, irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was this shared moment, this quiet space between you where nothing else could reach.

But eventually, the need for air became too great, and with a gentle push, you pulled away, your chest rising and falling with each breath. You rested your forehead against his for a brief second, your eyes fluttering open, a playful gleam still in your gaze. "To your room, soldier," you said, the words soft but firm, your breath shaky from the intensity of the kiss.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Really? I thought we would go here, on the couch," he countered, his voice low and amused, still holding you in that protective embrace.

You raised a brow in mock seriousness, mimicking the playful demand in your tone. "What did I say earlier?"

His eyes sparkled with a challenge, and without another word, he grinned. "Alright then, giddy up." Before you could even process what was happening, Logan shocked you by swiftly scooping you up into his arms, lifting you off the couch in one effortless motion.

You gasped in surprise, a little scream escaping your lips as he effortlessly held you against him. Your heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of it all. The sudden shift from playful teasing to pure action caught you off guard, but it was exhilarating. You couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on your face as you found yourself in his arms, completely at his mercy. "Logan!" you laughed, your hands instinctively finding his chest as you tried to steady yourself, your heart still thudding with excitement.

"You really did say it," Logan murmured, his voice low but full of mischief as he carried you toward the bedroom, not even a hint of hesitation in his steps. The way he held you felt so natural, so right, and despite the surprise of the moment, you couldn’t help but revel in the connection between you two, the playful tension, and the undeniable chemistry.

"Alright," you laughed, your arms tightening around him just a little, "you win, soldier."

Logan’s grin widened, and he made a playful sound, like he was totally in charge now. "I always win," he teased, the sound of your laughter mixing with the steady beat of his heart as he walked toward the room, carrying you effortlessly, just as he promised.

And as the door to the bedroom closed softly behind you, the night stretched on—one of those moments you both would never forget.

----------------------

Little did he know about riley in the dark edge of the room watching you both doing certan things:

She was mine, walker...

ok tf bye

FBI kick

fed soldier: I SWEAR TO GOD I don't know where is rorke!! i literally ran away from the federation sir!

suddenly out of nowhere kick push the door aggressively stepping in with a black jacket and glasses, holding out FBI ID CARD

kick: this is the "female body inspector".

hesh: ...

merrick: ....

kick: Speak up where is the kid??!!

eyebrows twitching with seriousness acting like a main character

man legends never die hit haawwdd

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

How they act when they don't like you....and why?

characters: logan walker, Hesh walker, Elias walker, Keegan russ, Thomas merrick, Kick

X teammate reader! [requested]

i had fun writing this

notes: harash or being mean to the reader, me saying daddy to elias because i am misbehaved

Logan walker:

Bro doesn't like anyone here he is just sticking to his daddy and hesh, well i mean as a social he doesn't like them or not caring about them.

but the reason he would not like you is because you are reckless and logan is all about discipline and precision.

He started knowing that when you charge into a room without checking corners and dude really got annoyed.

it got nearly killed for both of you but logan managed to save your live and his, Then he gave you that look screams "get a job".

Logan is a calculated, quiet soldier who thrives on efficiency. If you’re impulsive, sloppy, or too loud, it would frustrate him. He might see you as someone who doesn’t respect the seriousness of the mission.

but honestly he just got away from you only sitting next to hesh like everyday you will find him there

he is a silent judger Logan’s not one to vocalize his dislike openly. Instead, he’d give you subtle signs—cold stares, no nod of acknowledgment when you’re around.

You’d feel like an outsider just because of how much he doesn’t engage. His silence would sting more than words.

I don't think he would be mean to you with words and beinf harash but at the base If you sit at the same table during downtime, Logan gets up and moves somewhere else without saying a word in case you wanna talk to him and he doesn't want to.

The only "conversation" you might get from him is a blank stare when you ask for help with your gear.

Hesh walker:

Oh man he is the opposite from logan he will be open with his comments on you

the reason is because you don't take his order seriously or challenging him like i see him like this

he is a lieutenant how dare you not listening to him but listening to merrick's orders.

Hesh is loyal to his family and the team, and he expects everyone to respect the chain of command.

If you question leadership, brush off directives, or act like a know-it-all, Hesh would get heated fast.

maybe you have this audacity to argue with your teammates about a job or a patrol, it wasn't your time for a patrol so you got mad and start arguing " I don't understand i did this 4 time already in the same damn location!"

which lead hesh to snap “We don’t have time for your ego! Do your job, or I’ll find someone who will.” calm down bby

he wouldn't hold back his frustration but he would mask it with sarcasm

"look who finally decided to show up! Did you actually bring ammo this time, or should I do your job too?" bitch

He’d complain about you to the others when you’re not around, but it would always come back to you somehow.

Hesh throws constant jabs at your performance.“Wow, you actually hit something this time. Let me guess, blind luck?”

at the base he finds every opportunity to one up you If you’re telling a story about a killstreak, he’ll interrupt with, “Pfft, that’s nothing. Last week, I cleared a whole building solo.”

bro wanna just let out his frustration 😭

Elias walker: (Ok help i didn't find a gif)

he would not like you no he is not that emotional type man.

the reason is your lack discipline or don’t meet his expectations.

he want someone to be trusted in the team and he doesn't find this in you maybe you got nervous or something but he doesn't really care.

As a leader, Elias demands excellence. If you’re not pulling your weight, making mistakes under pressure, or putting the team at risk, Elias would start seeing you as a liability.

You botch an important mission step, forcing the squad to improvise. Afterward, Elias says, “You need to decide if you want to be part of this team. Because right now, I don’t see it.”

he is giving the disappointed dad vibe As the squad leader, Elias would make his disappointment known without outright hostility.

“You’re not giving me much to work with here. This team relies on everyone pulling their weight.” whatever you say daddy

He’d put you on blast in front of the others but in a way that feels more like a father scolding their kid.

He’d constantly put you on remedial tasks or double-check everything you do. You’d feel like you’re being babysat.

I see elias is harash in his training i mean look at hesh and logan they didn't become this skillful that easy it was elias wild training.

So Elias doesn’t hesitate to use you as bait just to toughen you up.“You’re fast, right? Go flush them out, and we’ll cover you.” then leaving you scrambling for survival.

Elias constantly gives you extra drills to "improve."“You’re staying behind. Practice clearing that room until you can do it without screwing up. The rest of us have real work to do.”

Even if you complete the drills, he finds something wrong with your execution.

Keegan russ:

He won't show it too but he will mask it with sarcasm too especiall with his short comments that made you wanna tackle him to the ground and fight him

the reason: You’re not dependable, or you’re too emotional.Keegan values professionalism esp in the ghosts team and doesn’t tolerate people who let emotions cloud their judgment.

If you hesitate under fire, panic, or fail to stay focused, Keegan would see you as a weak link.

you blowed the cover with a noise you made accidentally he doesn't yell he would just go with “Next time, stay quiet. Or don’t come at all.” coldly.

Keegan is the cold, no-nonsense type, so he’d probably flat-out ignore you.

If you mess up, you’d get that icy glare that says “You’re lucky I don’t deal with you right here.”

He’d keep his interactions with you strictly professional and minimal, using only hand signals or one-word commands.

he is all about manipulatescretly like If you’re in danger, he’d hesitate just long enough to make you sweat before helping he just want you to know you're dealing with danger.

polishes his weapons near you but doesn’t say a word. If you ask him a question, you get a curt, dismissive response.“What ammo works best with the MK14?”

“The kind that hits the target. Try it sometime.”

“We need to breach on three. the walkers—you’re with me. y/n, just hang back and don’t get in the way.” BITCH??😭😭

Thomas merrick:

You haven’t earned his respect Merrick is a seasoned veteran who respects competence and loyalty above all. If you’re new, inexperienced, or overconfident.

Merrick might see you as someone who needs to prove themselves first—and he won’t go easy on you.

You try to take the lead during a mission, and it goes south. Merrick pulls you aside afterward:“You want to lead? Earn it. Until then, know your place.”

Merrick is a no-BS guy. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll tell you to your face.“You’re a liability. If you want to stay on this team, you’d better step up, or you’re out.”

Merrick would constantly test you, setting you up for challenges to prove yourself, but his standards would be brutally high.

He’d always keep an eye on you, but not out of trust—more to make sure you don’t screw things up.

Merrick makes his disdain clear during mission briefings.“Stick to the basics, y/n. Don’t overthink it, and for God’s sake, don’t try to be a hero.”

If you lag behind, he turns around, arms crossed, and barks, “Move your ass, or I’ll leave you to catch up!”

Merrick has zero patience for your questions.“Why didn’t you clear the room faster earlier?” you stood up facing him

“Because you didn’t do your damn job. Next question.”

He doesn’t sugarcoat anything and frequently suggests you’re not Ghost material.

Kick:

You don’t adapt quickly or fail to learn from mistakes. Kick is efficient and prefers to stay out of drama.

If you repeatedly make the same mistakes, don’t take advice, or need constant hand-holding, Kick would lose patience with you.

he would start thinking how the hell you're in this team.

You forget to secure your gear before a mission, slowing down the squad. Kick shakes his head and mutters “Do I have to double-check everything you do?”

he is quite Reluctantly Helpful One, Kick is more on the reserved side, so he wouldn’t waste time expressing dislike.

He’d just do what needs to be done but with zero enthusiasm when it comes to working with you.

If you’re in trouble, you’d probably hear him mutter, “Of course, it’s you again.” But begrudgingly, he’d come through—just enough to keep you alive without making it feel like he cares.

Kick rarely speaks but makes his feelings known in other ways. For example, if you’re pinned down and yelling for cover fire, Kick shoots in the opposite direction first—just to make you sweat.

If you accidentally throw a grenade too close, Kick shakes his head and mutters, “Unbelievable.”

Kick avoids you but makes his annoyance clear when forced to interact.“Fix your weapon yourself. What are you gonna do in the field, call for me to hold your hand?” please do

If you’re paired with him during training, he sighs heavily every time you mess up.

once you tried to be kind with him finding a hard disc drive for his computer so he can plug it.

"hey kick check this out i found this" you said as you throw it to him expecting him to catch it which he did looking at it checking it out "thought you could be use of it"

he start checking it raising one eyebrow "maybe i will use it." he said looking at you blankly and you smiled simply at him.

"..."

"..."

"just kidding" he said putting it in his pocket which made your eyebrows hit each other in confusion.

"I don't like you" he said simply as he turned around to walk leaving you there mouth slightly opened from shock.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Brush of brave

Hesh "david" walker X fem!reader! [requested!]

summary: You help your boyfriend, Hesh Walker, apply his ghost face paint before his mission, His soft smile warms your heart, thankful for your quiet support. In these moments, the world outside feels a little less intense, with only the two of you.

note: fluff

The morning was wrapped in an almost unsettling stillness, the kind that only exists in the quiet depths of 4 a.m. The air felt heavy with the weight of unsaid words and fleeting moments. You lay on your bed, eyes half-open, tracing the edges of shadows that danced across the ceiling of your dimly lit room. The faint golden glow from the bathroom spilled out into the hallway, like a quiet reminder of reality intruding upon your cocoon of comfort.

Your gaze lingered on that light, knowing it wasn’t just an empty room. It was him—Hesh. You could hear the faint shuffle of his movements, the metallic clink of his belt, the sound of water running briefly, all part of the rhythm of his early morning ritual. He was heading back to base. Two months of stolen time together had evaporated, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand, and now, here you were, at the end of it.

Your chest tightened, an ache you couldn't ignore. It wasn’t fair how quickly those days had flown.

You let out a soft tut, barely audible, as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the coolness of the floor against your feet grounding you for a fleeting moment. Your chest felt heavy, the ache of goodbye already gnawing at the edges of your resolve. Staying in bed, pretending to sleep, would only make it worse. If you didn’t say goodbye now, the regret would linger longer than the silence.

Quietly, you padded over to the bathroom door, the soft glow of light spilling over your features as you stopped just short of the threshold. There he was, Hesh, standing at the mirror, razor in hand, the sharp rasp of it cutting through the stillness as he worked on the other side of his face. He looked so calm, so methodical—an effortless confidence in the way he moved, even in these small, mundane moments.

For a moment, you just stood there, watching. The way his jaw tensed slightly as the blade glided over his skin, the faint shadow of a grin lingering at the corners of his mouth, as if he already knew you were there. And then, as though sensing the weight of your gaze, he glanced at you. His eyes met yours briefly before shifting back to the mirror, his shoulders rising and falling in a comfortable shrug.

“Sorry, babe,” he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with sleep and familiarity. “Didn’t mean to wake you up with the lights.”

It wasn’t the lights that woke you, but you didn’t correct him. You just stood there, taking him in, the ache in your chest softening for just a second as you realized how much you’d miss even this—the quiet, unassuming moments that made everything feel like home.

“Okay... I’m sad,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out with a simplicity that belied the heaviness in your heart. You stepped into the bathroom, drawn to him like a moth to the light, your arms folding loosely across your chest. Hesh paused mid-motion, his razor hovering just above the sink, as a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“Being greedy, are you?” he teased, that familiar hint of arrogance lacing his voice. His words held no malice, only the playful pride he carried so effortlessly. “Should’ve spent more time with me.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing. You were used to the way he spoke, like every moment spent with him was a privilege you were lucky to claim. And maybe it was. It was infuriating and endearing all at once, a balance only he could manage.

Your gaze flicked to his reflection in the mirror, catching the faint stubble he had left untouched. “Your hair’s growing...” you remarked, your tone a mix of teasing and warning. “Don’t you dare do something to it.”

That made him chuckle, the sound deep and rich like a ripple of warmth cutting through the cool morning air. His dripping voice, as you liked to think of it, had that velvety quality that always left you both annoyed and utterly charmed.

He turned his attention back to the counter, The familiar black-and-white paint sat nearby, and you watched as he began preparing it with practiced ease. The ghost mask, a part of him as much as his smile, stood silently between you, its empty eyes staring back like a reminder of what was coming.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him work. The way his hands moved—steady, confident, and unhurried—was mesmerizing. You hated how much you loved these moments, hated how fleeting they always felt. But you stayed anyway, soaking it in, because for now, he was still here. And for now, that was enough.

Hesh glanced at the paintings for a moment, then at the black-and-white paint pots resting neatly on the counter. He dipped his finger into one, smudging a streak of white across his palm as if testing its consistency. Then, without looking up, his voice rolled out, smooth and sure of itself.

“You know,” he started, the edge of his mouth quirking into a faint smirk as he glanced at you through the mirror, “I’ve been thinking…” His tone carried that familiar weight of ego, teasing but not overbearing, as if he already knew what your answer would be. “You should do it.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

He turned then, leaning casually against the counter, his arms folding over his chest. “Paint my face. For the mask.” His gaze was steady, soft in a way that caught you off guard, even as his words carried that trademark Hesh pride. “I mean, you’re always going on about how good you are with details. Might as well prove it.”

You stared at him, unsured to be flattered. He had a way of doing that—threading arrogance with a strange kind of tenderness that always left you guessing. “Oh, so now I’m your artist?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, low and rich, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Why not? I trust you not to mess it up,” he said, and then after a beat, his voice softened. “Besides… it’d feel good knowing you put something of yourself into it. Something I can carry with me.”

The shift in his tone caught you off guard. It wasn’t just an offer—it was a quiet, unspoken connection. A way of bringing you with him, even when he couldn’t be here. And just like that, his arrogance melted into something warmer, something that made your chest ache in the best way.

You couldn’t help but smile, a small curve of your lips that betrayed the bittersweet feeling lingering in your chest. You stepped closer to him, the warmth of his presence drawing you in. Hesh leaned back slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the sink, watching you with that easy confidence that always made him seem larger than life. His smile wasn’t forced or calculated—no, it was real, genuine. But there was no mistaking the pride that radiated from him. He was the kind of man who wore leadership like a second skin, born to carry the weight of it.

“I don’t even remember the details of your mask,” you teased, letting your fingers hover near the paints laid out on the counter. Your words carried a playful jab, though your gaze lingered on him, cataloging every inch of his face as if to disprove your own claim. The strength in his jaw, the faint lines near his mouth from all the smirks he wore like a badge, the way his dark eyes softened just enough when they met yours. You couldn’t help but notice the details now, even if you tried not to.

Hesh’s grin widened slightly, that self-assured look of his making an appearance. “Then I guess you’ve got some work to do,” he said, his voice low, dipping into that teasing, velvety tone that always got under your skin in the worst—and best—ways. “Just don’t get distracted, hm?.” he said propping a peck on your temple.

reached for the black paint anyway, dipping your fingers in hesitantly. The cool, slick texture made you wince, and you held up your hand with mock horror. “Ah, I’m gonna dirt myself,” you muttered, glancing up at him.

Hesh chuckled, that deep, effortless sound that always seemed to ground you. “Takes a little mess to make something worth keeping,” he said, his gaze unwavering, the faintest glint of warmth hidden beneath his usual pride.

You shook your head, biting back a smile, but as you reached for his face, you felt the strange, comforting weight of his trust. For all his pride and ego, in this moment, he was letting you leave your mark—literally and figuratively. And that, more than anything, was enough to make you steady your hand and begin.

Hesh glanced at his reflection in the mirror again, turning his head slightly to admire your work. The black and white patterns of the ghost mask were sharp and clean, perfectly crafted, but his attention quickly shifted back to you. He turned fully now, leaning one shoulder against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest as he gazed at you.

“You’ve got some talent, you know that?” he said, his tone carrying that faint teasing lilt. “You might’ve just made me look even better.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his arrogance, but the warmth in his gaze kept your irritation at bay. “Oh, please. The mask is doing all the work,” you shot back, wiping your paint-streaked hands on the towel nearby. “I’m just the artist. The rest is up to you.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was committing every detail of your face to memory—the curve of your lips, the way your hair fell slightly out of place, the gentle crease of your brow as you avoided his intense gaze.

“You know,” he started, his voice soft now, deeper, “I don’t say this often, but... I’m gonna miss this. You. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard. You blinked, looking up at him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his tone. “You don’t have to say it like that,” you whispered. “Like you’re not coming back!”

His expression softened even further, and he took a small step closer, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, brushing lightly against your cheek. “I’ll come back. I always do,” he murmured, his voice steady, reassuring. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to leave.”

You felt your throat tighten, emotions threatening to spill over. But before you could say anything, he leaned in, closing the small distance between you. His movements were slow, deliberate, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t.

His lips met yours gently, softly at first, like he was testing the waters. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there with a tender firmness, and you couldn’t help but melt into him. The kiss deepened, unhurried but filled with all the emotions neither of you could put into words—the longing, the sadness, the love.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed for a moment before he opened them to look at you again. “That’s for when I’m gone,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So you don’t forget.”

You smiled through the ache in your chest, your hand brushing against his jaw where the paint hadn’t touched. “As if I ever could.”

thinking about zombie apocalypse with cod ghosts character (so unserious)

characters: logan walker, hesh walker, kick, keegan russ

X teammate reader

logan walker:

oppp- wrong picture

Logan walker:

The quietest dude ever—Logan wouldn’t say a word even if the world was ending (which it technically was).

You’d been fighting for your life, running for what felt like hours, until you finally found shelter in an abandoned store.

Exhausted, you crouched behind the desk, catching your breath, when you noticed something—or someone—lying a few feet away.

Instinct kicked in; you gripped your weapon, nerves on edge, and prepared yourself for the worst.

Creeping closer, your heart pounding, you got a better look and froze.

It was Logan.

He was asleep. Just lying there, arms crossed like it was nap time in kindergarten.

“Logan!,” you whispered, trying to wake him up.

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

You sighed, lowering your weapon.

“Logan, you’re serious right now?” Still no response.

Apparently, Logan could sleep through the literal apocalypse without a care in the world.

As you kept muttering about how lucky you were to find someone alive, he finally opened his eyes.

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before letting out a quiet sigh and sitting up.

He didn’t say a word—of course—but glanced at his watch, completely ignoring your rant about surviving this nightmare.

You kept yapping about the horrors you’d faced, how relieved you were to see someone from the team, and how you thought you’d never make it.

Meanwhile, Logan was completely in his own world, barely listening.

His mind was already planning the next move, calculating every possibility, mapping out the escape like this was just another day.

At one point, he gave you the slightest nod, as if to acknowledge you were there, but his focus stayed locked on his plan.

You were half-annoyed, half-relieved—this was so typical Logan. Even in the apocalypse, he stayed the same: quiet, efficient, and impossible to read.

"by the way logan there is no food... i tried to go to that supermarket but it was...well crowded" you said feeling your stomach aching

You were mid-sentence, going on about how tough it had been out there, when Logan stood up abruptly and walked right past you.

He didn’t say a word (of course he didn’t), just moved with quiet determination, heading straight toward the back of the store.

For some reason, you weren’t scared—this was Logan, after all. The guy had been sleeping here like it was a Sunday afternoon nap. If anyone could survive this mess, it was him.

Minutes passed, and you heard him coming back, moving a little faster this time. Before you could ask, he grabbed you by the shoulder, his grip firm.

“What... what?” you stammered, caught off guard by his sudden urgency.

Logan took a steadying breath, his face calm but serious. Then, for the first time since you’d seen him, he spoke.

“Run.”

The single word made your stomach drop. You barely had time to process it before you looked behind him—and saw the wall practically bursting open with a swarm of zombies.

They were coming straight for you, groaning and stumbling over one another, and your survival instincts kicked in.

Without another thought, you both bolted, running as fast as your legs could carry you, with Logan leading the way like he had everything already figured out.

"DID YOU AT LEAST GET FOOD?"

Logan was a zombie magnet. No matter where you went, it was like they could sense him from miles away.

You’d be walking through a crowd, trying to stay low, and then—bam—the zombies would all suddenly turn and head straight for him, ignoring you completely.

You’d stand there, frozen in shock, as they chased him down like he was the main course.

It was honestly ridiculous. “What the hell, Logan?” you’d wonder, but you knew better than to ask. He had that effect, and it was like he was used to it.

But sometimes, when the noise and chaos calmed down, there’d be a brief moment where you could see the cracks in his otherwise stoic exterior.

As you sat eating, Logan would fall into rare moments of quiet, and it was then you could tell he was thinking about the people who weren’t there anymore.

You noticed the flicker in his eyes—like he missed Hesh and Elias, wishing they were with him, especially when things got too heavy to bear alone.

But there was no time for sentiment. Logan wasn’t the type to soften up, not when the world was falling apart around him.

Then, while you were both eating in silence, you heard Logan pause mid-bite, his expression distant.

“Leave some for—” He trailed off, and you looked at him, confused.

“For who?” you asked, your mouth still full.

His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment, a rare flicker of something sad in his gaze.

“...Riley,” he muttered quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

He didn’t say more, just continued eating, the weight of his words lingering in the air.

Logan’s weapon of choice? A crowbar.

It wasn’t just any crowbar, though—he was obsessed with it.

You tried offering him a gun once, hoping he’d at least consider something with a bit more firepower, but he just shook his head.

Instead, he held up the crowbar like it was Excalibur, his eyes dead serious "seriously logan take this you may need it!"

“Don’t need a gun,” he muttered, his grip tightening. “Too noisy. I don’t want to attract attention, and ammo’s a waste.”

"BRO JUST SAY YOU RAN OUT OF AMMO" You didn’t argue. He was a master with that crowbar—silent, efficient, and downright unstoppable when it came to killing zombies.

It was like the weapon and Logan had become one. With one swing, he could clear a path, and before you knew it, the zombies were on the ground, barely a sound made.

Watching him work, you almost forgot how dangerous it all was—until you heard the sickening crack of bone as another zombie dropped.

Hesh walker:

The forest was dense and eerie, the kind of place that felt like it was hiding secrets behind every tree.

You had your path memorized—there was a safehouse somewhere through this mess, but the atmosphere here was off. Something felt... wrong.

You kept walking, eyes darting around, the rustling of leaves making you tense.

And then, it happened.

Without a word, you felt it—a shift in the air, something moving behind the thick trees.

You froze, taking a deep breath, gripping your weapon tightly. Every muscle in your body was on alert, ready for anything.

You stepped forward slowly, your eyes sharp, scanning the shadows, when suddenly—

Something pounced from behind.

A startled scream escaped your lips as you whipped around, weapon raised.

But then, you saw it—Riley.

His excited, goofy grin was unmistakable as he practically licked your face, like you hadn't just been in a fight for your life.

"Riley?" you said, voice full of surprise and relief, your heart finally slowing.

He stopped licking you, and you could practically feel him grinning even more.

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, holding him back. “What the hell, man? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Riley just wagged his tail, clearly too happy to care.

Just as you were catching your breath from Riley’s surprise ambush, you heard a voice cut through the trees.

"Riley!"

You turned just in time to see Hesh emerge, his expression a mix of relief and caution.

But then, as soon as his eyes landed on you, his steps faltered. He froze, a look of shock spreading across his face.

"Y/N?"

A wave of relief washed over you, and you stood up, barely able to contain your smile. “Hesh!”

You both exchanged quick greetings, the tension from the forest momentarily easing. Hesh’s lips curled into a small but genuine smile, his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury.

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He looked you up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment, checking for any wounds.

“Not bitten?” he asked, You raised an eyebrow at the question, but before you could answer, he added, “I’m not asking because I’m worried you’re going to attack me. I’m asking because I’m scared for you.” yes he was straight with this

You paused, realizing how much that statement meant. He wasn’t worried about surviving the apocalypse with you, he was worried about you surviving it at all.

It hit you then—Hesh had always been protective, but now, with the world falling apart, the stakes felt higher.

You nodded, reassuring him, and then it dawned on both of you.

“Wait,” you said, glancing between him and Riley, “we’re heading to the same place, huh?”

Hesh nodded, the relief on his face mixing with the realization that, despite everything, you’d somehow ended up back together.

Every morning, Hesh had the same routine: a motivational speech to get everyone’s spirits up.

"WE SURVIVED YESTERDAY! WE’LL SURVIVE TODAY!" he’d shout, his voice booming, and for the first time, it’s inspiring.

After the hundredth time, though, it just got… annoying.

At least today, he brought food—sort of.

He insisted on being the one to cook, as usual, though you didn’t argue. It gave you time to relax.

As you two ate, Hesh just stood there, waiting, not touching his own plate.

"Man, I wonder if Dad knew this would happen—he trained us, me and Logan, to survive. Guess it paid off, huh?"

You nodded, chewing, before taking another bite—but then, just as you were about to finish, Hesh’s face dropped.

He peered down at the food product, his expression turning from casual to horrified.

"Okay, I fucked up," he muttered, eyeing the beans. “These are expired."

You froze, mid-bite, mouth wide open in shock. "You’re kidding, right?"

Just then, hesh noticed Riley still happily munching away at the beans.

“RILEY! STOP EATING THAT!” he shouted, leaping to his feet.

Hesh scrambled toward Riley, panic in his eyes. "No, no, no! Riley, stop!"

You were left there, holding the spoon, still shocked by the mess Hesh has just made

like hell he would send riley to attack the zombie or protect him

i see him use stick shapren it so it can use as a weapon cuz elias training didnt got waste

Keegan p russ:

You were fighting for your life—sweat dripping down your face, every move a calculated risk. The world was chaos, but you were doing your best to keep it quiet, avoiding the sound of gunshots to keep the zombies off your trail.

But that plan was quickly falling apart when a zombie dog lunged at you, its snarls sending a cold shiver down your spine.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to scream, but the dog wasn’t letting go.

Desperate, you shoved your hands into its face, trying to pry it off you, but it only snapped back harder.

You were about to lose it when—BAM!

The shot rang out, echoing through the silence of the forest, and the dog’s head exploded, its body going limp in an instant.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

The familiar cold efficiency of Keegan.

The dog’s body hit the ground "Rest in pieces," he said simply, deadpan, eyes still on the now-lifeless head blown zombie dog.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, exhausted, and dropped onto the ground, trying to catch your breath.

Keegan stood there for a moment, his face unreadable, before offering a hand to help you up.

"Been through hell, kid," he muttered, pulling you to your feet.

His tone was dry, but there was a quiet understanding in it—a recognition of how close you had come to not making it out of that one.

Keegan turned around, walking a few steps ahead, expecting you to follow his lead as usual.

“So, what’s up?” he asked, the words casual but his tone sharp, as if expecting more than the usual small talk.

You shrugged, still a little shaken, trying to shake off the adrenaline. “Uh, you know, just zombie apocalypse…” You trailed off, not really having anything new to say.

Keegan stopped in his tracks, turning around to face you, his eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah, I gathered that, idiot," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Why don’t you just tell me something I don’t know?” this is from snapcube re2 lol

You thought the days of endless training were over, but Keegan had other plans.

He had this uncanny ability to sneak up behind you, completely silent, and scare the living daylights out of you.

"Keeps you sharp," he'd always say with that smug grin of his after watching you jump out of your skin.

Honestly, you hated it, but you couldn't argue that it worked.

Still, you didn’t exactly appreciate the fact that you almost died because of a zombie dog, and Keegan didn’t either.

The moment it was over, you could feel his piercing gaze on you, making sure you were in one piece.

"Next time, don’t let a dog get the drop on you," he muttered, his voice like a low growl.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but feel a small sense of gratitude. Keegan may have been a pain in the ass, but he knew how to keep you alive.

Keegan has this bizarre talent—he can somehow sense how many zombies are nearby, just by sniffing the air.

No one knows how he does it, and honestly, you’re too scared to ask. The way he just casually inhales and then rattles off a number is honestly a little unsettling.

On supply runs, though, he’s a stealth master. You’ll lose track of him for hours, and when he reappears, he’s holding something ridiculous like gourmet chocolate.

"Found it in a mansion," he’ll say, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

You just shake your head—Keegan had a way of disappearing into thin air and showing up with treasures from places you never would’ve dared to enter.

He’s a knife guy, too—silent, deadly, and incredibly skilled.

You’ve seen him take down a zombie in one swift motion, barely making a sound.

If you ever need to sneak through a hoard or take something down quietly, Keegan’s the one you turn to.

The camp was in chaos—zombies were breaking through the perimeter, and you were freaking out, trying to gather everything together.

"Keegan, come on! Let’s go!!" you shouted, grabbing your gear.

But there he was, sitting calmly on the ground, sharpening his knife with a whetstone like it was just another day.

He didn’t even look up at you. “They’re slow. We’ll be fine,” he said, his voice as calm as ever.

"KEEGAN!!" you yelled, but it didn’t faze him.

The guy had no sense of urgency, and somehow, it worked. You couldn’t even remember the last time you saw him stressed.

liner kind using "should have stayed dead" when he shot a zombie.

kick:

You were fighting for your life when, out of nowhere, Kick made his grand entrance with a flamethrower.

Yes, a flamethrower—like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Totally practical!” he shouted, firing the flames at the zombies with reckless abandon.

But of course, things went sideways, and before you knew it, half your shelter was on fire.

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL—?? KICK, YOU BURNED EVERYTHING!" you yelled, frantically trying to douse the flames as your safe space turned into a disaster.

After the chaos settled and you were finally safe, Kick walked over, completely unfazed by the damage he caused.

“You’re alive now, right?” he asked, checking to make sure you were okay.

You nodded, still catching your breath.

“Then shut the fuck up,” he said, offering you a look that was somewhere between a smirk and indifference.

Kick was always the first to come up with outlandish ideas, and one of his most "brilliant" suggestions was duct-taping machetes to shopping carts.

“Zombies won’t stand a chance!” he’d declare with an enthusiastic grin, already getting to work on the "weaponized" carts.

At first, it seemed like a fun, creative idea—until the zombies got too close.

The machetes were heavy, unwieldy, and the shopping carts? They just weren’t built for battle.

Spoiler: The zombies did stand a chance.

It all turned into chaos, the carts getting stuck, the machetes swinging wildly and missing their mark, and you both barely managing to stay alive.

Kick was grinning through it all, still having fun in the madness. But the truth was, this kind of reckless thinking was bound to get you both killed if you kept it up.

The fun was wearing thin, and you were starting to realize just how dangerous his chaotic ideas really were. "ok fuck me let's get serious" he said panting "thank you?"

Kick's chaotic creativity knew no bounds. One day, he decided to strap dynamite to a remote-controlled car and drive it straight into a horde of zombies.

The explosion was massive, taking out the zombies... but also knocking over half the shelter in the process.

As the dust settled, Kick turned to you with a grin. "Scale out of 10 if Merrick would kill me here when he sees what I’m doing?"

You just sighed, rubbing your temples. This was getting ridiculous.

And then there was his "Machete Madness" phase, where he duct-taped three machetes together and proudly called it the "Tri-Chop 3000."

It was supposed to be the ultimate zombie-killing weapon.

Except after one swing, the whole thing snapped in half.

"Well, shit," he muttered.

You couldn’t help but think, This kind of chaos is going to get us killed one day bur weirdly you are surviving because of him

At night, Kick would sit around the fire, telling spooky theories in his head

They were so terrifying that you couldn’t help but flinch at certain parts, and Kick loved it. He’d practically beam with amusement at your reactions.

he would say something like "what was the last they think before they turn to a zombie?" or "we killed humans by the way..."

but you were pretty sure he was just having too much fun watching you squirm.

One time, Kick suggested using fireworks to distract the zombies.

You shot him a look and replied, “Or we could not die.”

He just shrugged with a grin, muttering, “Alright, alright, never again.”

But the most puzzling thing about Kick? He always had a spare weapon.

Broke your bat? He had an extra one.

Out of bullets? He’d casually hand you a mag.

No one knew how or where he kept it all, but somehow, Kick always had exactly what you needed when things went south.

When the car ran out of gas, Kick’s first solution was to suggest pushing it to the next town.

"I can totally do it," he insisted with confidence, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

(Spoiler: He couldn’t.) The attempt ended in a lot of frustration, sweat, and a very not moving car.

Then there was the time he found a stash of protein powder and decided to make “zombie apocalypse shakes.”

They were awful. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if they were meant to be a joke or if Kick was serious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink another one after the first try.

He also bet he could wrestle a zombie to the ground without killing it.

And somehow, he won. But now, no one was eager to sit near him, especially after hearing the grisly details of his "win."

On the plus side, he was always entertaining, especially when it came to killing zombies.

Every time he took one down, he’d say, “That’s one more for the highlight reel kid!” as if he was on some sort of twisted reality show.

"my comfort character" stfu cause this chicken is cold

merrick calling rorke secretly

merrick: rorke this is not fucking funny bring the kid back

rorke: no.

merrick: FUCK YOU MEAN NO?YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT?

merrick: AND WHY THE FUCK IS KICK ON THE SAME LINE WITH US??

Hesh stopping fed logan!

warning; emotional! and angst

hesh: logan! this is not you!!

logan: Gahook!🤓 I know.

warning NSFW sound!

anyway had to do this idk

hesh come and end me already

𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚!

{𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙!} 𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙠𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙓 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧!

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨:𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

words: 1211

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐.𝙎. 𝘼𝙧𝙢𝙮, 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨. 𝘽𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚—𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨. 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙢, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙖𝙙𝙢𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙙. 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩?

Logan walker:

when you first enter the kitchen for a coffee you found him there leaning against a counter looking at the floor

lord have mercy why am i nervous? that's what you thought and because of that you barely even said "yo" coming out of your mouth

Quietly nods at you in acknowledgment. He’s not much of a talker

Then while you are making coffee you will see him trying to put the spoon in the roaster.

"LOGAN DON'T!!"

The type to quietly pass you the ketchup before you even realize you need it and this made you go "oh. thanks!" and he go nodding

while you were eating you will find him organizing his food into sections on his plate like it’s a tactical map and hime looking like he is doing an art.

this made you more and more knowing he is so cute bye

you always thought because of his calm personality he may be Arrogant because he is elias's son i mean that is the first impressions

but guess what he offers to help you settle in by carrying your gear and that surprised you and made you look stupid and he looks dumbly at you when you're flushing

i can see him as a spending time he Loves card games and casually invites you to join him for a round of UNO.

He’s ridiculously good at bluffing, which makes sense given his silent demeanor.

He wins nearly every game, leaving you wondering if he’s secretly psychic.

Surprisingly, you were talking to each other while playing, which made you ask him in the middle of the discussion if he had ever had a partner before.

He looked at you with his dead eyes, making you wish you hadn't asked.

lmao that was just his regular look he shrugged looking at the card then spoke quietly "no...but hesh was the one who gets partners honestly" he actually started open up by saying "i mean i could but i didn't have time for that since dad used to train us" :(

HIS VOICE WAS SO COMFORT WHEN HE WAS TALKING AND YAPPING

after a hella of weeks with him he was in charge of training you, he is patient when helping you with drills. He doesn’t say much, but his feedback is always spot-on.

"You gotta stay still i can see your hips moving while you're shooting"

he sighed when you did this again "we are gonna have a looong time.." hesh said while smirking at logan who closed his eyes for connection with nature

Tries to be helpful but ends up accidentally making things harder. Like that one time he threw a training dummy at you during a reflex drill.

but you were too distracted by Riley barking in the corner and suddenly attacked him out of nowhere. You got tackled by the dummy.

You find him outside staring at the stars with Riley by his side. He doesn’t mind your company and even lets you pet Riley.

Surprisingly opens up during quiet nights. One time, while cleaning his gear, he shared a story about his dad teaching him how to fish as a kid. “I hated it at the time cause i fell unconsciously in the water, but now… I kinda miss it.”

It caught you off guard but made you appreciate how much depth there is to him.

Has a secret stash of snacks in the base, which you accidentally discover one night. He doesn’t get mad, just sighs and says, “You can have one. One.” he warned you👺

Starts inviting you whenever he go to the bar after a succeful mission with the team "i think it would be great if you come with us not sitting here in boredom".

LORD HAVE MERCY he shocked with a small smile in the bar while you were talking which made you think that mf smile like us?

he is so sweet but you can't see this since he is so straight to his tasks no jokes, no laughs thats what the ghosts are

Gives you a once-over, arms crossed, and deadpans, “ Another rookie. Try not to trip over yourself, yeah?”

he thought you won't go last here lol

and he thought it like that in the training “What are you doing? That’s not cover. That’s standing awkwardly behind a fucking barrel you gotta be fucking kidding me.” He’ll roast you relentlessly

but then show you exactly how to fix your mistakes, complete with sarcastic commentary.

"i bet you were shoved in lockers as a kid" you thought you got rid of merrick but kick is here

He’s the guy barking at you during obstacle courses, making sure you don’t slack off. “Move faster! You think the enemy’s gonna wait for you to climb a wall?”

even though you're doing your best he is just trying to wake you up by what he think

"the last soldier i was in charge of you made him look like a superhero to me"

Doesn’t pull punches—literally or figuratively. If you mess up during sparring, he’ll call you out. “C’mon, kid, is that all you got?”

But when you finally land a hit on him, he smirks and says, “Not bad. Don’t let it go to your head.”

and then he flips you on the floor like a burrito

Once you found him checking on the computer and it was clearly a report. "man shut up no one gives a darn about riley eating biscuit" hesh

"hey kick where i can find papers?"

"in the locker." he said simply then when you opened you were shocked by how many computers and keyboards in there "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WINDOWS 98?"

"yeah i can't throw that masterpiece" he said proudly smirking looking at you resting on his chair

"no DO NOT touch that retro keyboard unless I tell you to!"

once you found him Reads books like spy thrillers or military history during his free time.

He pretends not to care when you ask about them, but five minutes later, he’s explaining the entire plot of The Hunt for Red October with surprising enthusiasm.

Eats like it’s a mission. No small talk, just shovels food like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

He’ll occasionally toss a sarcastic comment your way, like, “You gonna finish that, or are you on a diet?”

Joins you in the common are He doesn’t say much at first but eventually opens up with a dry joke or two.

“If you think today was bad, wait until Merrick decides a mission Afghanistan. You’ll wish for combat drills.”

Doesn’t usually talk about himself, but when he does, it’s in the form of dry, understated remarks.

“I’ve seen worse places than this base. Like that time I got stuck in a swamp for two days. Don’t recommend it.” You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

letting you take the last slice of pizza during dinner. He doesn’t say anything just looking at you blankly

"..."

"..."

"ok have it"

you catch him smirking when you thank him. “Don’t get used to it.”

He’s the one who bluntly points out where you’re lacking. “Your reaction time is decent, but you’re slow on target acquisition. Fix that, or you’ll be a liability.”

David "Hesh" walker, save me David "Hesh" walker... Save me David "Hesh" walker

That ending scene on the beach in 5 seconds

Beyoncé, and what is her relationship with Call of Duty ghosts? (this is serious guys i can't take it anymore...)

if i disappear after this post yall know the reason

first of the GIMME SOME curse that came into hesh suddenly!

um like hello the way he squat his leg opened! come on now hesh babe i know you're so down to earth but not like that

let y'all all some photos that the Cod Ghosts fandom has been shut about! I know we are dead but not like that

i'm not thanking Beyonce let what is going to be be

what is my life😔💔kids ain't got none to eat 💔da house is gone💔💔...all because i am posting these shitposts

lmao edited and added more in this post

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶ 𝐊𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 (yeah im a writer just wait for my exams to be done and i will be unstoppable🙏🏻yall will be spoiled)

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

IDC i see him as a twitch streamer if he isn't in the military

this dude is locked in in games that he played like no joke

"SHUT UP im not a hacker" that what he would see in his chat while playing shooting game and be winning everytime

i feel like his chat is sassy with him and like to tease him and provoke him but like hell he would care to them

he is that dude that has no idea how he got famous (it's clear)

THIS MAN WOULD STARE AT THE SCREEN BLANKLY IF HE GET THE BEST TWITCH STREAMER AWARD

then he would turn his head smoothly at his chat typing aggressively 'what the fuck! dude you won!!'

then he say "what is that suppose to mean..." trailing off looking at his chat STARING BLANKLY

and the next day he will keep streaming like nothing happened

he won't mod anyone in his chat not a single person idk why but i see him

and his chat be begging for it

"shut up Kicko_left_nipple im not gonna mod ya"

he is that kind that say "yeah ban this dude" "ban whoever said that" "let's get {user} banned on every social media to have ever existed back and forward" help this is caseoh coded

he would be pissed off if someone actually tricked him by some kind of moves in games and it turned out to be fake

lets get into emotions...

first off he would chuckle this dark and short one if the chat type something funny or bully him

like this man will just sit on his chair comfortably smirking at his chat slightly loving how some people got this nerve to bully him

or...write 'juicy' confessions...

like the first time happened to him he is eyes widened at this message in his chat saying how she want him to dominate the shit out of her till the morning and more and more

like he was playing peacefully and yapping with smile then his eyes falls on his chat and he wish he didn't

HIS SMILE DROPPED WITH WIDENED EYES looking at his chat especially the message "..."

and chat be typing 'WHAT IS WRONG WITH DUDE!' 'LMAO'

"....yeah good stream chat..."

and boom the stream turned off

then after he get famous he will get like a lot and will shrug them off not caring because this loser doesnt know how to reply to them

"so you're in yalls basements simping over me? ok good" he's not complaining

mf will get shocked if he gets one from boys bye

he is that type of gamer that if a sad scene showed up like everyone cried over it he would just look at his screen blankly not a single emotion showing

while his chat is crying

and when the sad scene ended he keep staring at his screen blankly then continue playing like nothing happened

oh lord i can imagine him looking so good with his clothes imagine the black top on him reflecting every damn muscle he has? drooling

his hand is so big while his face has these sharp features HELLO with his eyes skjdhflzsiudhgfiluseghl

fan fact kick has amber eyes fight me

with his black hair fight me (he's bald XD)

like this dude is so pretty but we cant see that enough

anyway heading to the emotions one will he get angry if he lose?

no but if the game is too hard for him he will complain so bad like

"NAH GET THIS GAME BANNED ON EVERY UNIVERSE WHAT IS THIS??" he said while pointing at his screen angrily

dont let this dude play elden ring oh no

unfortunately he did and played and this dude was pissed at the fact he lost with the same boss 23434 times

then he had enough as he lost for the 43439th time again

this dude would chuckle sarcastically "wow haha" then he would change his mood with anger as he hit his hard fist on the desk breaking the cam

"GOOD STREAM CHAT" he would yell

not gonna lie but he would block merrick and ghosts fellas like he feel embarrassed a bit and shy that his fellas see him gaining money from streaming :(

but since logan is a mute character he would forget abt him and he didn't block him so logan would tease him and suddenly appear in his chat with 'logan-walker' user typing and sayin yo and typing in his chat like he is on of his followers

KICK WOULD SWALLOW HIS THROAT AS HE SAW HIS USER AND CONTINUE PLAYING

"so...heading to the next mission yeah.."

LOGAN WOULD WATCH WITH A SMIRK

like he would think how this quite kid had an interest in these stuffs like him

would he show his gf?uhm..at first he wasnt sure tbh

once he decided to do some fun things trying to talk with strangers on omegle then he met a fan girl

"omg kick is that you??!" she would slightly scream as she saw him in front of her on her screen

"in the flesh" he would say simply with a smile resting on the back of his chair comfortably

"oh my god!! can we you know...f***?" remember we listen and we don't judge 🙏🏻

the fucker has the nerve to chuckle at her shamelessly

"nah sorry we can't i have a girlfriend" he would say still resting on his chair

THE GIRL WOULD BE SAD

would he simp over female characters? yeah like his fav mortal kombat character is sonya whenever she shows up he say "yeah step on me"

be cautious spicy down there

this mf would wear short sleeves top showing his muscle arms especially above the elbow...

he would be such an ass and groan as he show them pretending to be tired from gaming

hadn't any idea that he killed people by that

ok bye this got so long

―୨୧⋆ ˚ don't forget to join the discord server for cod ghosts fans!

https://discord.gg/25YpWJN4fk

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶ 𝐊𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 (yeah im a writer just wait for my exams to be done and i will be unstoppable🙏🏻yall will be spoiled)

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

IDC i see him as a twitch streamer if he isn't in the military

this dude is locked in in games that he played like no joke

"SHUT UP im not a hacker" that what he would see in his chat while playing shooting game and be winning everytime

i feel like his chat is sassy with him and like to tease him and provoke him but like hell he would care to them

he is that dude that has no idea how he got famous (it's clear)

THIS MAN WOULD STARE AT THE SCREEN BLANKLY IF HE GET THE BEST TWITCH STREAMER AWARD

then he would turn his head smoothly at his chat typing aggressively 'what the fuck! dude you won!!'

then he say "what is that suppose to mean..." trailing off looking at his chat STARING BLANKLY

and the next day he will keep streaming like nothing happened

he won't mod anyone in his chat not a single person idk why but i see him

and his chat be begging for it

"shut up Kicko_left_nipple im not gonna mod ya"

he is that kind that say "yeah ban this dude" "ban whoever said that" "let's get {user} banned on every social media to have ever existed back and forward" help this is caseoh coded

he would be pissed off if someone actually tricked him by some kind of moves in games and it turned out to be fake

lets get into emotions...

first off he would chuckle this dark and short one if the chat type something funny or bully him

like this man will just sit on his chair comfortably smirking at his chat slightly loving how some people got this nerve to bully him

or...write 'juicy' confessions...

like the first time happened to him he is eyes widened at this message in his chat saying how she want him to dominate the shit out of her till the morning and more and more

like he was playing peacefully and yapping with smile then his eyes falls on his chat and he wish he didn't

HIS SMILE DROPPED WITH WIDENED EYES looking at his chat especially the message "..."

and chat be typing 'WHAT IS WRONG WITH DUDE!' 'LMAO'

"....yeah good stream chat..."

and boom the stream turned off

then after he get famous he will get like a lot and will shrug them off not caring because this loser doesnt know how to reply to them

"so you're in yalls basements simping over me? ok good" he's not complaining

mf will get shocked if he gets one from boys bye

he is that type of gamer that if a sad scene showed up like everyone cried over it he would just look at his screen blankly not a single emotion showing

while his chat is crying

and when the sad scene ended he keep staring at his screen blankly then continue playing like nothing happened

oh lord i can imagine him looking so good with his clothes imagine the black top on him reflecting every damn muscle he has? drooling

his hand is so big while his face has these sharp features HELLO with his eyes skjdhflzsiudhgfiluseghl

fan fact kick has amber eyes fight me

with his black hair fight me (he's bald XD)

like this dude is so pretty but we cant see that enough

anyway heading to the emotions one will he get angry if he lose?

no but if the game is too hard for him he will complain so bad like

"NAH GET THIS GAME BANNED ON EVERY UNIVERSE WHAT IS THIS??" he said while pointing at his screen angrily

dont let this dude play elden ring oh no

unfortunately he did and played and this dude was pissed at the fact he lost with the same boss 23434 times

then he had enough as he lost for the 43439th time again

this dude would chuckle sarcastically "wow haha" then he would change his mood with anger as he hit his hard fist on the desk breaking the cam

"GOOD STREAM CHAT" he would yell

not gonna lie but he would block merrick and ghosts fellas like he feel embarrassed a bit and shy that his fellas see him gaining money from streaming :(

but since logan is a mute character he would forget abt him and he didn't block him so logan would tease him and suddenly appear in his chat with 'logan-walker' user typing and sayin yo and typing in his chat like he is on of his followers

KICK WOULD SWALLOW HIS THROAT AS HE SAW HIS USER AND CONTINUE PLAYING

"so...heading to the next mission yeah.."

LOGAN WOULD WATCH WITH A SMIRK

like he would think how this quite kid had an interest in these stuffs like him

would he show his gf?uhm..at first he wasnt sure tbh

once he decided to do some fun things trying to talk with strangers on omegle then he met a fan girl

"omg kick is that you??!" she would slightly scream as she saw him in front of her on her screen

"in the flesh" he would say simply with a smile resting on the back of his chair comfortably

"oh my god!! can we you know...f***?" remember we listen and we don't judge 🙏🏻

the fucker has the nerve to chuckle at her shamelessly

"nah sorry we can't i have a girlfriend" he would say still resting on his chair

THE GIRL WOULD BE SAD

would he simp over female characters? yeah like his fav mortal kombat character is sonya whenever she shows up he say "yeah step on me"

be cautious spicy down there

this mf would wear short sleeves top showing his muscle arms especially above the elbow...

he would be such an ass and groan as he show them pretending to be tired from gaming

hadn't any idea that he killed people by that

ok bye this got so long

link in pinned post!

i literally moaned by yall excitement please reblog this post so we can gather a lot of ghosts fan <3

Discord server

oh lord help me the anxiety hit me😭😭...so i made discord server for cod ghosts fans still has no members but i wanna make sure if anyone would join since it would be some kind of a place for ghosts fans

please type something or put a like if you're interested so i can drop reblog this post and drop the link

Discord server

oh lord help me the anxiety hit me😭😭...so i made discord server for cod ghosts fans still has no members but i wanna make sure if anyone would join since it would be some kind of a place for ghosts fans

i will post it in pinned post!

please type something or put a like if you're interested so i can drop reblog this post and drop the link

so yall wish me luck i got exams for the next two weeks and yeah im cooked here bunch i made so i can 'less-stress' (they're shit i know)