Hesh Walker X Reader - Blog Posts

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

Relationship Alphabet series with Cod ghosts!

Hesh walker

✧ Pairing: Romantic. ✧ Genre: Fluff.

Hesh is a natural leader—strong, confident, and brave. But beneath that, he has a good heart and a gentle soul. He loves deeply, respects his partner, and would go to the ends of the earth to protect them. He’s the kind of man who makes you feel safe, loved, and cherished.

✧ Warnings: Light NSFW, and mention of NSFW content MDNI.

A – Affection

He’s the type to always have a hand on you—never possessive, just present, just there. A grounding touch at the small of your back, his fingers grazing yours as if to remind you he’s close, his arm draped around you in easy familiarity. It’s second nature to him, an unspoken language of affection woven into every gesture.

But Hesh also understands the weight of space, the need for solitude. He’ll step back when you need it, let his love exist in the quiet between moments. And when you reach for him again, he’s there—ready to pull you close, press another kiss to your temple, and remind you that you are deeply, endlessly loved.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling you into a hug after a long day. “Missed you.”

Light NSFW: His affection bleeds into the bedroom. He’s all about praise, warmth, and devotion. He doesn’t just touch—he cherishes. His hands explore, but always with care, always making sure you know exactly how much he adores you.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he whispers against your skin. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

B – Boundaries

Hesh is a respectful man. He might tease, push a little, but he’ll never cross a line. He believes in mutual trust, and he expects the same from you.

If you need space? He’ll give it. If you say no? That’s final. If something makes you uncomfortable? He’ll never push.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay,” he says, his tone calm but firm. “Just know I’m here when you’re ready.”

Light NSFW: He’s attentive in intimacy. He won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with—he pays attention to your body, your reactions. If something feels off, he stops immediately.

“Hey, sweetheart, you okay?” he murmurs, voice gentle but firm. “We don’t gotta rush. I want you to feel good—only if you’re ready.”

C – Communication

Hesh believes that honest communication is everything. He’s straightforward, hates beating around the bush, and always wants to know where he stands.

If something’s wrong, he’ll ask. If you’re upset, he’ll want to talk it out. He doesn’t like leaving things unresolved.

He’s also not afraid to be vulnerable with you. He trusts you, and that means being honest about his own fears and worries.

“I don’t like being away from you for so long,” he admits one night, voice quiet but firm. “I know this life is tough, but damn… I hate leaving you behind.”

Light NSFW: Communication extends into the bedroom. He wants to hear you, wants you to tell him what you like, what you want. He loves feedback—if you moan his name, he’ll smirk, pushing a little further just to get another reaction.

“Oh, you like that?” he chuckles, voice husky. “Damn, sweetheart. Say it again.”

D – Devotion

Devotion defines Hesh, When he loves, he loves with his whole heart—unyielding, unwavering, all in. There are no half-measures, no hesitations. He doesn’t believe in temporary affections or fleeting romances; if he chooses you, it’s because he sees something real, something worth holding onto.

Hesh is a one-person man. No games, no second-guessing. The moment he realizes he loves you, he’s already picturing a future—imagining the life you could build together.

Light NSFW: His devotion extends to intimacy. He’s a giver—he’s here to please. He worships you, makes sure you feel every ounce of love he has for you. He takes his time, slow, deliberate.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “Tonight’s about you.”

E – Empathy

Hesh feels deeply—he can’t stand seeing you upset. Even if you don’t say anything, he knows when something’s wrong.

He’s not just a good listener—he genuinely wants to help. He’ll hold you, rub your back, murmur soft reassurances until you feel safe again.

“I got you, baby. You don’t have to go through this alone.” And if you ever doubt yourself? If you’re feeling insecure? He won’t have it.

“Hey. Look at me.” He tilts your chin up, eyes burning with intensity. “You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Light NSFW: His empathy translates into the way he takes care of you. After intimacy, he’s all about aftercare—pulling you close, Sharing lazy and slow kisses, murmuring sweet things.

F – Forgiveness

Hesh isn’t the type to hold grudges. If you argue, he’ll want to resolve it quickly—he doesn’t like letting things fester.

He believes in talking things out, making sure you both understand each other. If you’re wrong, he won’t hold it over your head. If he’s wrong? He’ll own up to it.

“I was an ass earlier. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, babe.” when he only just said 'I think you are wrong babe.'

But there’s one thing he won’t forgive easily—betrayal. If you lie to him, break his trust, it hurts him deeply. It takes time to earn back his trust, but if he truly loves you, he’ll try.

Light NSFW: If there’s tension after a fight? He might channel that energy into passion. Heated kisses, needy touches—like he’s reminding himself that you’re still his.

“You drive me crazy, y’know that?” he murmurs against your lips. “But fuck, I love you.”

G – Growth

Hesh believes that a relationship is a journey, not a destination. He knows that people change, and he embraces that. He wants to grow with you, through the good and the bad.

He’s patient when it comes to differences or conflicts. If something isn’t working, he’ll work on it instead of giving up. He listens, learns, and always strives to be a better man for you.

Light NSFW:

With Hesh, intimacy is more than just closeness—it’s understanding, connection, and an unspoken promise to always listen.

He’s not the kind to assume, to take without learning. He watches, he feels, he asks. Every reaction, every breath, every subtle shift in your expression is something he takes in like second nature. He wants to know what makes you tick, what makes you melt, what turns a simple touch into something deeper, something unforgettable.

H – Honesty

Hesh doesn’t play games. He’s blunt but kind, always speaking his mind. If something is wrong, he wants to talk about it, not ignore it.

He expects the same from you. He’s not a fan of mind games or passive-aggressiveness. If you’re upset, he’d rather you say it outright than bottle it up.

Light NSFW: He’s honest about what he wants, but never pushy. If he’s in the mood, he’ll let you know—but he respects your pace and comfort level.

His lips brush against your ear. “You tell me when, sweetheart. I’ll be waiting.”

I – Intimacy

For Hesh, intimacy is more than just touch—it’s trust, vulnerability, the kind of connection that goes beyond the physical. He wants to know you, really know you—the things that make you smile, the memories that shaped you, the quiet thoughts you don’t share with just anyone.

He cherishes the little moments, the ones that most people overlook. Laying in bed together, tracing lazy patterns on your skin as you talk about life, your dreams, your fears. Running his fingers through your hair, feeling the way you relax under his touch. The kind of intimacy that doesn’t need grand gestures or stolen breaths—just being, together, without pretense.

Light NSFW:

When it comes to physical intimacy, Hesh is everything you could hope for—attentive, passionate, and deeply in tune with you. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t take anything for granted. Every touch, every kiss, every movement is a reflection of his care, his desire to make you feel truly seen and adored.

He’s not just focused on the act itself; he’s focused on you. On how you respond, on the way your body reacts to his, ensuring that you feel comfortable, cherished, and safe in every moment. He listens to your body, to your unspoken cues, and adapts, always trying to give you exactly what you need, what you crave.

“You feel so damn good, sweetheart,” he groans, holding you close. “Let me take take care of ya.”

J – Joy

Hesh finds happiness in the little things. A shared joke, a stolen kiss, you laughing at something dumb he did—those moments make his day.

He’s the type to tease you just to see you smile, but he also appreciates when you make him laugh. You’re his safe place, the person who makes even the worst days feel brighter.

K – Kindness

Hesh is strength wrapped in softness, a balance of power and tenderness that creates a safe space for anyone lucky enough to be in his life, When you need comfort, Hesh is there, a steady presence, never forcing but always ready to offer a shoulder, a gentle touch, a word of reassurance. He doesn’t just show up for the big moments; he’s there for the small ones too, the quiet, everyday acts of kindness that carry weight and these acts also come with him in the bed.

L – Love

Hesh’s love is deep, rooted, and unshakable. He’s not the type to rush into things, to fall for the surface level or the fleeting moments. But when he does fall? It’s with everything he has—wholehearted, all-consuming, with no part of him held back.

He’s not afraid to say it first, either. When Hesh knows, he knows, and there’s no hesitating, no second-guessing. He won’t waste time pretending to feel anything less than exactly what he does.

You never have to doubt his feelings. He shows his love in a million little ways—the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, the way he always puts you first.

Light NSFW: Hesh’s love doesn’t just stay within the realm of emotion; it bleeds into every aspect of your connection, especially in the bedroom. His passion is as intense as his affection, but it’s never selfish. He doesn’t just crave your body—he craves all of you.

In his arms, you’re not just desired—you’re wanted in every way that matters.

“Let me love you right,” he whispers, kissing down your neck. “Slow and deep, sweetheart.”

M – Memories

Hesh is the kind of guy who remembers everything. The little things—the first time you held hands, your favorite song, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.

He loves reminiscing, especially when he’s away on missions. When he calls or texts, he’ll bring up little moments to remind you how much you mean to him.

He saves little things, too—a picture, a note, a piece of jewelry you left on his nightstand. When he’s away, he holds onto them like a lifeline.

“Kept this with me the whole time,” he says when he comes home, showing you a small trinket. “Kept me going.”

Light NSFW:

When you’ve been apart for a while, expect nothing short of a heated reunion. The moment you’re back in his arms, there’s no holding back. Hesh has missed you—deeply—and he’s not about to waste a single second.

There’s a hunger in his touch, a desperation to reconnect, to feel you close again. His hands will find you before words even have the chance to leave his lips, pulling you into him like he’s afraid you might slip away. His kiss will be fierce, almost frantic, as if he’s trying to memorize every part of you all over again.

N – Nurturing

Hesh has a natural instinct to take care of those he loves. He’s the kind of person who is always looking out for you, whether that means making sure you’re fed, hydrated, or simply comfortable. If you’re stressed or having a tough day, he’ll take care of you in every way he can.

Whether you’re sick or just need someone to lean on, Hesh will show up—he’ll bring you your favorite tea or sit beside you in silence, knowing sometimes presence is the most nurturing thing.

“I’ve got you, babe. Just rest, let me handle everything else.”

He’s nurturing in the bedroom, too—not just in terms of physical needs, but emotionally. He wants to ensure you’re comfortable and enjoying the moment just as much as he is. He’ll always ask if you’re okay, if you’re comfortable, and if you need anything more.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down,”

O – Openness

Hesh may be reserved, but when it comes to you, he’s more than willing to open up. He’s not the type to share his feelings lightly, but with you, he’s honest and vulnerable.

He’ll talk about his past, his fears, and his hopes for the future when he feels ready—and it’s a sign of just how much he trusts you. He’ll be patient with you if you need time to open up, but he wants you to always feel like you can speak your mind without fear of judgment.

Light NSFW: In intimacy, he’s open to exploring with you. He’s willing to experiment, to learn, to make sure the experience is mutual. If you have desires or things you’ve never tried before, he’ll listen and be patient, letting you guide the way.

“If there’s anything you want to try, just let me know.” He says giving you a wink.

P – Patience

Hesh is incredibly patient, especially when it comes to emotional matters. If you’re going through something, he’s not one to rush you. He understands that healing takes time, and he’s right there beside you, no matter how long it takes.

He’s also patient when it comes to personal space and giving you room to breathe. He knows sometimes you need space to think, and he doesn’t take it personally. He’ll wait for you, not because he has to, but because he knows you need it.

Light NSFW: In the bedroom, he has a slow, steady pace. He doesn’t rush; he takes his time to make sure you’re completely comfortable and enjoying every moment. He’ll never push you into anything you’re not ready for.

“I’m not going anywhere. Let’s take it slow.”

Q – Quality Time

Hesh doesn’t just appreciate time together; he values quality time. He’ll make sure you have those moments—even if it’s something simple like watching movies, cooking together, or having deep conversations on the porch at night.

To him, it’s not about how much time you spend together, but how you spend it. He wants to connect with you on a deeper level, sharing laughs, making memories, and learning from each other.

Light NSFW: Quality time for him in the bedroom is the same—he doesn’t just want a quick release; he wants a connection. He’ll take the time to really enjoy being with you, learning every curve of your body, finding joy in every touch and kiss.

“This is about you, sweetheart.”

R – Respect

Hesh holds respect at the core of his relationships. He knows that respect is a two-way street, and he’ll give it to you in abundance. Whether it’s respecting your boundaries, your thoughts, or your feelings, Hesh doesn’t believe in belittling or taking things for granted.

He treats you as an equal partner in the relationship, and he always makes sure you feel valued. He won’t dismiss your emotions or make you feel small for speaking your mind.

And if someone disrespect you? he will go with "I don't care what she has told, I care what she has been told!"

Light NSFW: In the bedroom, he respects your comfort and your consent. If something doesn’t feel right, he’ll stop immediately. He doesn’t push boundaries; he’s all about making sure both of you are comfortable and having a good time.

S – Support

Hesh is the type of man who will always have your back. Whether it’s a tough day at work, a personal challenge, or an issue in the relationship, he’ll stand by you no matter what. He’s dependable, and you’ll always have his full support.

He’s also supportive of your goals and dreams, encouraging you to go after what you want. If you’re feeling unsure or defeated, he’ll be the one to lift you up and remind you how strong you are.

Light NSFW: He’s supportive of your needs in the bedroom, always making sure you’re enjoying yourselves and comfortable. He’s the kind of man who will listen to you if you tell him what you like and doesn’t hesitate to cater to you.

T – Trust

Trust is everything to Hesh. He’s not the type to share his heart with just anyone, but when he does, he’s all in. He believes in mutual trust, the kind where both of you can be vulnerable, knowing that the other will always have your back.

He’s someone you can trust to keep his word, to always be there when you need him, and to never betray your confidence. He’ll do whatever it takes to prove that you can count on him.

Light NSFW: His trust extends to the bedroom, too. He’ll make sure you feel safe and secure in every moment, always respecting your boundaries and listening carefully to your needs. And his only trust here when he tells you what he likes and what he want you to do for him.

U – Understanding

Hesh is the epitome of understanding. Whether you’re feeling overwhelmed, stressed, or even when you’re just in a mood, he always knows how to navigate those moments with patience. He listens more than he speaks, offering insight only when necessary. He understands when to give you space and when to offer support.

He never rushes you to express yourself, knowing that sometimes, just having someone near is all you need. He wants to truly understand your thoughts and feelings, and he’ll work patiently to ensure you feel heard and validated.

Light NSFW: In the bedroom, he’s deeply attuned to your body language and subtle cues. He knows when you’re comfortable, when you need a little more, or when you’re not quite in the mood. He respects your pace, ensuring that both of you are emotionally and physically aligned.

“Does this feel good?" and he is expecting you to answer.

V – Vulnerability

Hesh doesn’t open up easily, but when he does, it’s because he trusts you completely. Vulnerability is something he’s learned to embrace with you, knowing that it creates a deeper bond. He may not show it all the time, but when he lets his guard down, he’s showing you how much you mean to him.

His vulnerable side is rare, but when it’s just the two of you, he’s not afraid to talk about his past, his fears, and the parts of him that aren’t always strong. It’s a sign of how deep his love for you is.

Light NSFW: In intimacy, he’s vulnerable too. He’s not about showing off, but about creating a real connection. He doesn’t mind being open about what he wants or needs, and he encourages you to do the same. It’s about trust and sharing those moments of raw honesty.

W – Warmth

Hesh’s warmth isn’t something you notice at first glance—it’s in the way he holds you when you’re cold, the gentle touch on your back when you’re upset, or the soft words of reassurance when you’re feeling anxious. He has a quiet warmth that radiates comfort and security.

His presence alone is enough to make you feel safe and not afraid of anything, and his love comes with a steady, warm energy that’s unshakeable. He may not always use words, but his actions speak volumes.

Light NSFW: In the bedroom, his warmth is evident as he takes his time, making sure you feel loved and cherished in every way. He’s never rough or overly aggressive; instead, he’s tender and patient, making sure you’re comfortable and cared for.

X – XO (Hugs & Kisses)

Hesh is a man who’s subtle with affection, but when it comes to you, he’s not afraid to show his love in small, meaningful gestures. He’s a fan of hugs and kisses—the kind that are both comforting and full of affection.

You’ll often find him kissing your forehead after a tough day, or pulling you into his arms for a tight hug when you need comfort. His kisses are never rushed; they’re soft and tender, a reminder of his deep feelings for you.

“Come here.” He says, pulling you in for a hug and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Light NSFW: In intimate moments, his kisses are slow and passionate, always deepening when you pull him closer. He’s the kind of lover who will take his time, his lips tracing every inch of your skin as he shows you just how much you mean to him.

Y – Yearning

Hesh doesn’t talk about yearning much, but you can see it in his eyes. There’s a longing in the way he looks at you, a quiet desire to be close and to share everything with you. His yearning isn’t loud—it’s in the way he holds your hand for just a little longer than usual or the way he watches you with admiration when you’re not looking.

He’s the type of man who will yearn for the little things, those small moments with you that make everything worth it.

“I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m always missing you when you’re not around.”

Light NSFW: In the bedroom, Hesh’s yearning is reflected in his more rough, more deliberate actions. He wants to savor every moment with you, to make you feel like you’re the only thing on his mind. It’s about passion, but also appreciation—he yearns to give you his best.

Z – Zeal

Hesh’s zeal comes from the fire he has inside for the people he loves. He’s passionate and dedicated, whether it’s in his work or in his relationship with you. He’s always the one who’s fully invested, giving his all in everything he does. His commitment to you never wavers.

There’s a fierce loyalty in his zeal. He’s ready to defend you, protect you, and love you with everything he has. That passion is always burning, whether it’s a quiet dedication to making you happy or a more intense devotion to making sure you’re never hurt.

“You’re everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Light NSFW: In intimacy, his zeal is reflected in his drive to please you. He’s not about rushing things—he’s focused on making sure you feel wanted and loved in every possible way. His passion runs deep, and he’s committed to showing you just how much you mean to him.

“You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you feel that every fucking single time.”

UHM ZAMN I WANT HIM sorry for crashing out

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

Imagine (seperated hcs and story for both of logan and hesh) wanting to date s/o and wanna tell elias about it since he trained them hard with discipline, then them thinking he my not like it or thinking they are slacking in their life, but it turns out elias actually knew they like S/O and he is totally supporting them

(Sorry im really bad at english but i don't mean elias is a bad or controller father😭😭)

I get u! I liked this ksjvauvhapreiu, They think he’ll be strict, but he surprises them

anon: also they are talking about Fem reader!

Logan Walker

Logan is not scared of much, but telling Elias that he wants to date you? That makes his stomach twist.

He knows Elias trained them hard, expected nothing but discipline, and he doesn’t want him to think he’s losing focus.

He overthinks it for days, wondering if Elias will think it’s a bad idea.

Hesh notices. One day, he just gives Logan a flat look and says, "You’re acting weird. Just tell him."

Logan finally works up the nerve but doesn’t know how to start the conversation.

So logan heads up to elias, Telling hime he wanna talks about something important.

The campfire crackled in the quiet night, faint embers floating up into the cold air. Elias sat across from Logan, arms crossed, watching him with that unreadable expression— actually waiting for him to speak something. Logan cleared his throat, gripping the beer in his hands a little too tight.

"So," Elias finally spoke, giving a simple smile. "You gonna tell me what’s got you looking like you just stepped on a landmine?"

Logan exhaled slowly. This was it.

"I… I wanna date someone," he said, voice steady despite the way his fingers fidgeted.

Elias arched an eyebrow, can't help but his smile widened a bit. "Oh?"

Logan hesitated, searching for the right words. "It’s not just anyone. It’s—It’s Y/N."

The silence stretched for a second. Logan braced himself for any kind of disappointing lecture that elias may give to him, for Elias to tell him that he needed to focus, that this wasn’t the time for distractions. But then—Elias chuckled.

Not a mocking one. A warm, knowing one.

"Logan, son… I was wondering when one of you boys would finally admit it."

Logan blinked. "What?"

Elias leaned back, shaking his head with amusement. "I’m not blind. I saw the way you look at ‘em...." Elias let out a sigh holding his beer "’s the same damn way I used to look at your mother."

Logan swallowed. He hadn’t expected this. Not this easy acceptance, or the mention of their mother.

"You… you don’t think it’s a bad idea?"

"A bad idea?" Elias scoffed. "Logan, if there’s one thing I regret, it’s not telling your mother sooner that I loved her... I fought it for a long time. Thought I had more time. But war doesn’t wait for love, son. You grab it when you can."

For the first time that night, Logan let out the breath he had been holding.

"So… you’re okay with it?"

Elias grinned, reaching over to clap a heavy hand on Logan’s shoulder. "Hell yeah, I am. Just don’t be a damn coward about it, yeah?"

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. He should’ve known Elias would see right through him.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Hesh walker

Same as logan, he never opened up with elias about his emotions.

Having hard times to get to the point but then he got it!.

He runs through a million worst-case scenarios in his head.

What if Dad thinks I’m not taking training seriously?

What if he thinks I'm slacking?

Of course he is gonna say yes but what if he feels kinda disappointed?

He practices how to bring it up but it always sounds dumb in his head.

He finally tells Elias when Logan gets tired of his whining and tells him to just do it already.

"Okay, okay, but what if he doesn't like it?"

Logan gave him a flat look. "Then what, he grounds you?"

Hesh groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Man, I don’t know! I just—I respect Dad, y’know? And if he thinks this is a bad idea, then—"

Logan cutting him off, deadpan "Then you’ll be a grown ass man crying in his room. Got it. Just go talk to him."

So he did. Well. Kind of.

It took another hour of pacing outside Elias’ office, logan swore that if he hadn't respected hesh he would have thrown him in the office and get done with it already, Then hesh finally knocked and walked in.

Elias glanced up, seeing Hesh standing there with his usual energy—but there was something underneath it.

"Something you need, son?"

Hesh shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh… yeah. So. Funny thing—" He broke with a very short chuckle.

Elias waited with a bit frowning eyebrows. Hesh cleared his throat.

"I’m, uh. I’m dating Y/N"

Silence.

Hesh Looked at everything but elias pretending he hadn't said anything.

Then—Elias just laughed.

Hesh blinked. "…Wait, what?"

Elias leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, still smiling. "Son, I’ve known that since the second you started looking at her like she put the stars in the damn sky."

Hesh’s face went red feeling the heat. "Hey now dad..."

"Oh, you do. You got my heart, Hesh. Wear it all over your face."

That shut him up. Elias softened a little, voice lowering.

"Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me. Kept me grounded. Reminded me there was more to life than just war."

Hesh swallowed hard. Elias let out a breath, watching his son for a moment before nodding.

"Come on now...I had you in this life when i was only 23, you're 28 man up!"

Hesh wasn’t expecting that level of support, but something about it made his chest feel lighter. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and grinned.

"Man, I was so ready to start doing push-ups on command."

Elias chuckled. "Well, since you brought it up—"

"Nope, I'm leaving." Elias laughed as Hesh bolted out the door.

And as Hesh walked away, he realized—he didn’t just get his father’s approval.

He got his blessing.

The urge to write about Sir David Walker burns like an unshakable fire.

Knight! hesh!

MDNI

A knight of unwavering loyalty, he carries himself with the noble grace of a natural-born leader. Time after time, as he removes his iron helmet, the details of his face come into sharper focus. His pale skin contrasts strikingly with the deep green of his eyes, and as the strands of his jet-black hair fall free, they frame his features with an almost effortless elegance. Each glimpse of him without the armor only reveals more of the man beneath—the warrior, the leader, the legend.

Each time he kneels before the king, one hand pressed firmly over his heart, it is as if he is making an unspoken vow—one of unwavering sacrifice, of blood and sweat pledged to whatever land he stands upon. His voice, low and steady, carries the weight of his devotion, each word dripping with formal reverence and gratitude. There is no hesitation, no faltering; only the ironclad promise of a knight who lives and breathes duty.

But then, with a voice like silk, you summon him to the king’s chambers. He approaches with the grace of a knight, but the moment his eyes meet yours, his entire demeanor shifts. His green eyes, once steady and fierce, now lower in respect, his body instinctively dropping to one knee before you, his hand over his heart in silent oath.

“Your grace,” he says, his voice unwavering yet soft, as if to show no weakness.

You lead him forward, your steps deliberate. He follows—trusting, obedient—until the door shuts behind him with a cold, final click.

He freezes.

His eyes flicker to the door, then back to you, realization dawning in his chest like a heavy weight. This isn’t the king’s room. This is yours.

A rush of fear surges through him, and for a fleeting moment, he is lost—unsure, afraid of what might unfold. He tries to mask it, standing tall, shoulders stiff, as if the knight within him could withstand whatever shadow looms in this room. But the tremor in his breath betrays him.

“Your grace,” he murmurs again, more softly now, his voice cracking with the first hint of doubt, “there must be a mistake. This...is not the majesy's chamber.”

He had endured countless wars, his body marked with scars from swords and battles fought. But this—this was something he had never prepared for. The weight of his loyalty, the trust he had sworn to the king, was a code he would never break. And yet, here, in this room with you, the line between duty and desire blurred.

He could feel the tension coiling in his chest, a knot of fear and respect warring within him. He knew what you wanted. He knew what you were offering. But this was not a challenge he had ever faced before. Behind the king’s back, it felt like treason. His loyalty was a chain, binding him to honor, to the trust that had been placed in him. And yet, in the face of your advances, that chain felt suffocating.

“Your grace, please...” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly masked it, forcing himself back into formality. His hands trembled, but they remained at his sides, trying not to betray the turmoil in his heart. “This is... beyond my duty. This is a step I cannot take.”

You were so close now. He could feel the heat of your presence, the whisper of your breath against his skin. And then, it happened. You kissed his cheek—soft, gentle pecks—tracing his jawline with delicate affection. His body stiffened at the touch. His breath caught in his throat, his mind screaming to pull away, to step back. But respect, honor, duty—they all held him in place, even as his heart raced.

“I... I cannot,” he whispered, his voice strained, desperate to remain the knight he had always been. His eyes closed for a moment, trying to block out the overwhelming presence of your proximity. “Please, my lady... I cannot touch you. Not like this. It would dishonor my place, the king’s trust... my oath.”

Even as he said it, the struggle was evident in the tension of his muscles, the way his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the lines of loyalty and respect were drawn too firmly for him to ignore. Yet his body, betraying him in its every moment of restraint, could not help but tremble at the closeness, at the kiss that lingered too long, too near.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the strain in his every movement. His honor, his oath—it was all he had, all he was. But you could feel the weight of your desires, pulling you closer to him, drawing you into this forbidden game.

“Don’t fight it, David,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against his ear. You reached out, brushing a lock of his black hair away, letting your fingers linger against his skin. “I know you want this. I know you feel it too.”

His body trembled, his every instinct screaming for him to pull away, to retreat. But you were relentless, your hands tracing his jawline, your fingertips grazing the steel of his armor, so close—so close to touching the man beneath. His breath hitched, and the words that escaped his lips were nothing more than a breathless murmur.

“Please... my lady...” His voice was low, almost desperate, but his eyes never left the floor. “This is... I cannot—”

You cut him off, your hand now gently resting against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You think I don't see the way your body betrays you?” you purred, inching closer until your lips were almost on his. “I know what you want. I know how this feels for you.”

He flinched, a quick, sharp movement, as though your touch burned him, and yet there was a part of him—no matter how much he fought it—that wanted to stay. Wanted to let go of the chains of duty and fall into the heat of the moment with you. But this... this wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he had been trained. He was a knight—loyal, honorable, untouched by such temptations.

“I cannot...” His words faltered again, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Not like this. I’m sworn... I am sworn to the king. To my vows.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You smirked, your voice dripping with both amusement and longing. Your hands slid across his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the fabric. “But I also know what you truly crave, David. You don't need to be a knight for this... not with me.”

His body recoiled, every muscle taut with resistance, but his mind was fighting a battle he had never known. The voice inside him screamed to pull away, to hold onto his duty, but there was something else—a new, unfamiliar ache that surged within him every time your fingers brushed his skin, every time you closed the distance between you.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice a raw plea as he struggled to back away, to put space between you. But the room was too small, the door locked. There was no escape. No way out. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“You think you can just walk away from this?” you whispered, your hand sliding from his chest to his neck, fingers gently curling around his jaw as you tilted his head up. His body trembled beneath your touch, but still, he couldn’t find the strength to stop you. His green eyes darted to yours, full of uncertainty, a silent plea for mercy. He didn’t know how to say no—not to you, not to the heat building between you both.

“Let me show you, David,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his as you leaned in closer, your hands tugging at his armor, loosening it just enough to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. “Let me show you that surrender isn’t weakness... it’s freedom.”

His breath was ragged, the knight’s resolve breaking piece by piece, and yet, in the back of his mind, the training, the vows, screamed at him to resist. But his body—his body told a different story. He had never been in a situation like this. He didn’t know how to pull away anymore. The lines had blurred, the honor he had spent years protecting now felt like a distant echo, drowned out by the weight of your touch and the unspoken promise in your eyes.

Then, it happened.

As if your touch was the spark to a flame that had been smoldering too long, you closed the space between you, your lips finally meeting his in a kiss that was both gentle and forceful, tentative yet inevitable. For a moment, Hesh was frozen, his body rigid, fighting every instinct he had ever known. His mind screamed to pull away, to hold onto the duty that had defined him for so long.

But your lips were soft, persistent, and he couldn't deny the pull. His heart raced in a chaotic rhythm that mirrored the storm of emotions inside him. He wanted to resist, but with each press of your lips against his, a part of him crumbled. His hands twitched, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, and he felt the weight of it—every hesitation, every unspoken word.

And then, something inside him gave.

His hands, once clenched tight, finally reached for you, trembling at first, then firmer, as though the walls of his resolve were falling. He could taste the hesitation in the kiss, the battle between loyalty and desire, but it was too much—too overwhelming. His lips parted, and he kissed you back, not as a knight, but as a man. A man who had never known this kind of hunger, this kind of need.

The kiss was more than just a meeting of lips; it was a crossing of boundaries, a surrender to something neither of you could fully control. His body reacted instinctively, pulling you closer, his hands finding their way to your waist, his breath shallow against your skin as he fought to regain his composure.

But it was too late. The moment had taken root, and nothing in the world could undo it. He had crossed the line, and there was no going back.

how i feel after writing this

this shit rocks actually because im ovulating

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Hesh stopping fed logan!

warning; emotional! and angst

hesh: logan! this is not you!!

logan: Gahook!🤓 I know.

just read hesh file (23544th time) and you know if yall read it and listened to the audio file you will understand me so i kept asking myself MY GOD WHY THIS MAN ISNT REAL??

HELLO HIS VOICE??AND HOW HE TALKS ABOUT HIS DADDY AND BRO??HES SO MANLY MAN IDC

...