Call Of Duty Ghosts X Reader - Blog Posts

hmm what about enemies to lovers w/ Kick? Kind of going along with the head cannons you made of why they don’t like you. Sorry if it’s not much, I fear that’s the best my mind can make up 😔

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 ˚｡⋆♡༘˚ ❀ੈ♡˳───────𖤐˚︵︵˚𖤐───────♡ੈ❀

✧ 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: Enemies to lovers with kick ✧ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌: Call of Duty Ghosts ✧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Kick ✧ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Character X G!N! reader! ✧ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: Slow burn, enemies to lovers ✧ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Verbal conflict, emotional tension, enemies-to-lovers dynamic ✧ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4030

The First Meet

You were former field intel—trained, tested, and hardened. Sharp in both strategy and aim. When they assigned you to dual-capable support, it wasn’t a promotion, it was a need. A solution. Someone who could bridge both ends of the op.

The assignment to the Ghosts' station wasn’t by your request. It was abrupt, high-priority. They didn’t want just anyone—they needed someone who could run comms, decrypt under pressure, and still hit targets without hesitation. That someone was you.

You walk into the base’s comms bay for the first time. The air is cool, the low hum of screens buzzing. You crack the door open slightly, not wanting to interrupt.

He’s there—locked in, eyes narrowed, sharp brows drawn in deep concentration. He doesn’t even glance your way. Maybe didn’t hear you. Maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

But from that first glimpse, you could already tell: he’s the type who doesn’t waste focus. And now, you were stepping into his world.

He doesn’t look up when you walk in. Voice low, flat, and laced with sarcasm: “If you’re delivering coffee, make it strong. If not, I need some cigarettes.”

You glance sideways, unimpressed but unmoved. Cool and composed. “I’m your new handler for recon data.”

That’s when he pauses. Eyes lift to meet yours.

Amber—no, gold, almost glowing under the wash of the screen light. A fleeting moment of surprise flashes across his face, subtle but there.

“Oh. Good,” he says, finally leaning back in his chair, tone dry as ever. “Try not to fry my drive like the last guy did.”

You arch a brow. The game had begun—and clearly, this wasn’t going to be a quiet assignment.

You didn’t flinch. Just crossed your arms and replied coolly, “Not here to babysit any driver. Just to make sure you don’t brick the mission while you're being clever.”

That was it—the spark. The gate to the classic enemies-to-lovers chaos creaked open right then and there.

He didn’t hate you, no. But damn, did he dislike you. The attitude, the sharp tongue, the way you came in like you already had the place mapped. Kick couldn’t stand people who came off too smart, too fast. Especially ones who mirrored his own bite.

He paused, your words hanging in the air, then sighed—lips twitching into a slow, amused smile. He stood, gaze leveled, one brow raised. “What did you just say to me?”

You didn’t back down. “Well, Kick, I’ve heard what you did when you first—”

He cut you off with a scoff, “Yeah, did. And what is it? ‘Bygones be bygones’? English not your first language or somethin’?”

That was the first round. A volley of sharp words and stubborn faces. Neither of you backed off—and maybe that’s exactly why it started to matter.

The Tension Builds

Week one? It’s a cold war dressed as teamwork.

You deliver your part of the job—clean, precise. He mocks you with nothing but a look, that infuriating half-lidded stare like he's already picked apart everything you've done. You feel it.

He delivers next—and you critique, straight-faced, surgical with your words. Every joint task turns into a quiet, brutal game of chess.

When you double-check his system patch before a field op, he doesn’t argue. Just shrugs, clicks a few keys, and redoes it. Not because he cares—no. But to let you know he really doesn’t care.

Later, during a mission brief, you silently reach into his routing code and correct it mid-scan. Not flashy. Not even out loud. Just enough to keep the op running clean.

Hours later, when the tension is finally dying down, his voice cuts in behind you—low, even: “I thought I told you not to touch the codes I work on again.”

You don’t even turn around. You’re trying to enjoy what little peace you’ve got.

With a sigh, you reply, “It’s my job too. What if the data report was filled with fake intel?”

There’s a pause. And behind you, you swear you hear the smallest scoff of approval—buried in annoyance.

Yeah. Cold war. For now.

Kick isn’t the type to beef. He doesn’t waste time on ego games—too seasoned, too practical. If it doesn't serve the mission, it’s noise.

So after that first week of sparks and code edits, the tension just… fizzles. Not into warmth, not yet—but into mutual exhaustion. You both have work to do, and not enough energy to keep clashing.

The coldest thing he does is withhold. Support, emotion, any trace of personal investment—he keeps it all sealed behind that quiet, unreadable calm.

And because you're both adults, professionals, and frankly too tired to keep drawing battle lines, it just... levels out.

One evening, over systems check, he says it offhand while typing: “Didn’t think I’d meet someone here who could keep up. You’re not half bad.”

It catches you off guard. You look over, blinking. “You either…”

No smile. No softness. But it lands different. Not flirty. Not dramatic. Just… respect, finally cracked open.

After that, the silence shifts. Not cold anymore—charged. You feel him watching during ops. Long glances. Nothing said.

Kick doesn’t fall fast. He fights it, like it’s some mission breach.

But you got under his skin. And he’s not used to bleeding quietly.

The quiet understanding? Gone. Work’s tense now—not personal, but pressure-cooked from the mission load.

Kick’s hunched over the relay case, calibrating for the infiltration op. You spot a flicker—diagnostic lag. Instinct kicks in. You override part of the setup without asking.

His jaw tightens instantly.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You don’t back down.

“Fixing what you missed. You forgot to compensate for the static backflow on the east relay. If I hadn’t—”

“If?” he cuts in, voice sharper now, “You wanna bet comms failing mid-op on your name? Because I don’t.”

He snatches the cable from your hand. You don’t flinch.

“I’ve pulled people out of worse with a busted mic and a bent antenna. You don’t get to lecture me like I’m green.”

That’s the crack. The voice raises. The weight of the job pressing down.

His reply is low, clipped:

“Then stop acting like it. You want this job or a pissing contest?”

It hangs in the air. Both of you glaring, hearts racing—not because of each other, but because everything around you is too much.

The tension erasing slowly

You and Kick were on the same field support op. You were almost pinned in crossfire during retreat — and he didn't loop your comm in time.

When it’s over, you're walking back into the safehouse. He’s trying to defuse it with nothing.

Inside, Kick’s already ditched his vest, silent as ever. When you step in, he looks up only briefly and mutters: “Good to see you alive.”

It’s stiff. Distant. Not like him—not after months of working together, knowing each other’s tones, silences, everything.

You pause. Then exhale with a dry, tired smile, eyes half-lidded like sleep was dragging you down where you stood. “I think if I had gone down, you’d still be making jokes about it.”

He doesn’t answer right away. You finally lift your gaze to his—and for once, it’s not guarded.

Just worn. Jaw tight. Guilt sitting somewhere behind those amber eyes.

It hits. Hard. You can see it in his eyes—no snark, no defensive walls. Just a raw, quiet thing that makes the whole room feel smaller.

Kick doesn’t say anything, but that look of his? It’s a heavy one. Like it’s all falling into place—things he doesn’t want to admit.

“Oh man…” he mutters, eyes narrowing, face still as stone. “Can’t believe you. After months of working and enduring my asshole behaviors, you now think I don’t care if you die? I thought you were good at reading people.”

You tilt your head, something sharp flickering behind your eyes. You step closer, voice steady but cutting: “I think you care more about being right than being reliable.”

The words sting. You see the tension coil in his shoulders, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle, though it’s tight. “You really know how to make a guy want to punch drywall, you know that?”

You can’t help it. You chuckle too—half tired, half bitter, but there’s something else there too. Maybe relief. “And yet you’re still standing here.”

For a moment, the air is thick. Neither of you makes a move, just standing there, locked in a silent tug-of-war.

Kick’s gaze softens for a brief moment—something you’ve never seen before, not from him. A flicker of warmth, quickly buried beneath that hard exterior.

He doesn’t say much, just that small, almost begrudging smile tugging at the corner of his lips. And then, the words come, slow and heavy like he’s not sure he even believes them himself. “You did good, Y/N... And don’t make me regret saying it again.”

You don’t respond. You’re too tired, too caught off guard by the rare glimpse of approval to even form the words.

He doesn’t wait for your reply. He just turns and walks out, leaving you standing there, staring after him as the door closes.

You shake your head with a quiet exhale. It’s not the apology you expected. It’s not the comfort you wanted. But maybe... maybe it’s enough.

Well, he’s not that bad.

You don’t know how long you stand there, but when you finally leave the room, the weight of the mission and the weight of what’s been said still hangs in the air. Neither one of you has said the things that need saying, but for once, you both understand.

After that moment, everything between you and Kick shifts. It’s not obvious—no sudden confessions or grand gestures. It’s in the quiet, the moments when the tension between you both starts to loosen just a little, bit by bit.

You find yourself slipping into conversations with him that you never thought you’d have. No more sharp words or unspoken grudges. Just... talking. Just being.

And you start noticing things. Small things. The way his gaze lingers for a moment longer than usual. The soft exhale he lets out when he’s finally out of a mission zone, or when his eyes catch yours unexpectedly. It’s almost like he’s letting you in without even realizing it.

One night, the conversation shifts. You’re sitting in the mess hall, the low hum of conversation around you, but the two of you are lost in your own little world.

You catch yourself asking, voice softer than you expect: “You ever get tired of this? The waiting. The quiet. The silence just before it all goes to hell?”

Kick’s brows furrow, a rare sign of uncertainty, as he thinks about the question. The silence stretches, and you wonder if you’ve asked something too deep.

Finally, he answers, voice low and steady: “Sometimes. But not right now.”

You don’t say anything after that. You just let the quiet settle in, the unspoken weight of his words lingering between you both. He’s not exactly opening up, but he’s still here. Present. And that, for now, is enough.

Kick’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let silence last too long. He’ll fill it with something—anything—to break the tension. Whether it’s rambling about the latest op or ranting about some random thing that’s bothering him, he’s always got something to say.

And you get used to it, the way his voice cuts through the quiet, his words bouncing off the walls, pulling you into his world. It’s just who he is, a talker at heart.

But there’s something else you notice too, something that shifts over time. You’re sitting together one evening, the air thick with unspoken words. Kick leans back, hand instinctively reaching for a cigarette, but before he lights it, he looks over at you.

“See? You’re not bad when you don’t smoke.”

You say it lightly, but you know there’s a part of him that’s changed. That used to be a constant, the cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a shield. But now, with you? He’s different.

Kick just shrugs, a half-smirk tugging at his lips, that familiar glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah? Don’t get used to it.”

And maybe, just maybe, you do get used to it. The way he’s shifting, the way he’s adapting, even if he won’t admit it. It’s not about the smoking anymore. It’s about him—about how he's willing to change little things for you, even if he won’t fully acknowledge it.

You’ve never been one to fish for validation. It’s not your style. But when Kick starts running his mouth—those familiar lines about things being “too easy” or “not challenging enough”—it’s hard not to notice the pattern. It starts sounding like a broken record, and you can't help but wonder if there's a part of him trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

You catch him in the middle of one of his rants, watching him as he struggles just a little—nothing big, but enough to make you think. It’s like he’s pretending not to feel the weight of it all.

You can’t help but tease him, leaning in just enough to throw him off balance with a suggestion: “If you need something, just ask, alright? I can... run a search, or fix something.”

He just glances at you, barely pausing from his task, a shrug in his voice as he responds: “Well, yeah. I’m good, thanks.”

You shake your head, about to head back to your own work, but something pulls you back to him, that nagging feeling that he won’t admit it even when he needs help.

“I mean, you could use someone to keep up with you.”

For the first time, there's a pause. Then, he looks up at you with a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah? Guess you’re stronger than I thought.”

It’s said lightly, but you both know it means something more than just a casual comment. Something shifts in the air, a quiet acknowledgment between you two. And for a second, it feels like the walls between you are a little thinner.

When it broke all

You're now sitting in front of Kick, the room dim and quiet after the medic left. Just the two of you now, a low hum from some overhead light filling the silence. He’d been patched up — nothing too crazy, but still enough to make you wince when you looked at him. Scrapes, bruises, a stitched gash or two. The usual. His job was always messy like that. Being a tech specialist didn’t mean he got to sit behind a desk — more like crawling through collapsed buildings or trying to hack a terminal while bullets flew past his head.

You watched him breathe for a second. Still alive. Still stubborn. And then, you broke the silence.

“You know, at some point,” you said, pulling your legs up a little, “you’ll run out of places to get shot.”

He tilted his head toward you with a lazy half-smirk. “Then I’ll finally be symmetrical. Bonus.”

You didn’t smile. Not exactly. But something softened in your face. Maybe your eyes stayed on him a second too long. Long enough for him to notice, anyway. His smirk didn’t fade, but it quieted.

You reached over to the medkit sitting beside you, flipping it open with one hand, fingers sorting through gauze and antiseptic pads. You pulled out what you needed and glanced at him — a look that said, "May I?"

He just gave a slow nod, the kind he gave when words weren’t worth the effort. So you moved in closer, Your hands, still chilled from the metal table, met warm skin just below where the bandage ended. He stiffened. Just barely — the kind of flinch someone doesn’t mean to make.

“Sorry,” you murmured, not sure if you were apologizing for the cold or the closeness. Maybe both.

You leaned in a bit more, just slightly, head dipping down for a better angle. It wasn’t anything romantic — not intentionally — just practical. Close work meant being close. That’s all. But still, you could feel the space between you shrink. His breath slowed. You didn’t say anything about it, just started cleaning the wound, your touch careful.

He didn’t joke this time. Didn’t move. Just sat there, letting you patch him up again like he always did.

And you… you stayed right there, pretending your hands didn’t tremble a little as they brushed across the side of someone you were trying way too hard not to care about.

“From what I’ve heard,” you say quietly, eyes still on the angry red line across his skin, “the Federation had your photo on a kill list.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. But something shifts in his eyes — a flicker, like a match catching fire for a split second before going dark again. He looks at you then, not startled, not angry. Just... watching. Like he’s trying to read between your words, see what you’re really asking.

Kick’s voice comes out low, dry, like gravel under boots. “Yeah. I figured someone would’ve mentioned that.”

You don’t meet his gaze. Your hands keep working, steady and careful, cleaning the edge of the wound like it’s just another scrape on just another day. But the silence between your words carries weight.

“Doesn’t mean you stop being careful,” you mutter, not accusing, not gentle either — just honest.

His chest rises slowly under your fingers. A long breath in. He’s not the type to make promises. You both know that. But maybe that wasn’t what you were asking for.

Maybe you just wanted him to understand that someone is still watching, still keeping track of where he bleeds.

And maybe, just maybe, he already does.

“You knew. About the list.” His voice was low, like he was talking more to himself than to you. “And you’re still with me. Others would just be scared shitless for their lives.”

He said it like it didn’t matter — like it rolled off him easy. But it didn’t. You could hear the way he tried to bury the edge in his tone, how he made it a statement instead of a question just so he didn’t sound like he needed the answer.

You kept your eyes on his chest, still dabbing at the edge of the wound, slow and steady. The smell of antiseptic filled the air between you, sharp and clean.

“I’m your second on field,” you said simply. “I don’t abandon people mid-mission.”

A pause. The kind that stretched just long enough for him to maybe say something, but he didn’t. So you did.

Softer this time. Almost quiet enough to be missed if he wasn’t already listening.

“And you’re not just anyone out there.”

His breath caught — just a little. And your hand stayed right where it was, resting lightly against his chest, waiting.

Neither of you moved.

You don’t even realize how close you are until the air between you starts to feel thinner, heavier — like breathing takes just a little more effort now. Like something’s shifted and neither of you wants to name it.

Then his hand grazes your waist. Just that — a brush of skin, rough calluses against your ribs.

There’s no dramatic moment, no sharp inhale or trembling gasp. Just stillness. A long, weighty kind of silence where your eyes find his — and stay there.

You glance down, almost unsure, to where his fingers now rest gently against your waist. His hand, worn and scarred from years in the field, strong and steady, holding you like something fragile. Your eyes lift back to his, and there’s a quiet frown between your brows, your lips slightly parted, voice barely a breath.

“…Kick…”

But he’s already watching you. Expecting you. Like he knew this moment would come, he’d just been waiting for it to land.

“Yes, love.”

And then he leans in. Not reckless, not urgent. Just slow. Careful. Like he’s giving you every chance to stop him — but you don’t.

You don’t step back. You just meet him halfway.

The kiss isn’t soft, but it’s not rushed either. There’s no hesitation in it, only weight — the weight of everything unsaid, everything felt but never spoken. It’s steady. Grounded. Like both of you had been carrying something too heavy for too long, and now, just for this moment, you’ve found somewhere to set it down.

You stay there — not in a rush to pull away. Because this… this was never about timing.

The first kiss might’ve been steady — a question asked in silence — but the second… the second burns.

You don’t know who moved first, maybe it was both of you at once, but suddenly it’s not careful anymore. It’s need — sharp and unspoken — rushing in like a tide neither of you can stop.

You slip your hands up around his neck, fingers curling at the nape, holding on like you’re afraid letting go will break whatever this is. His hands find your waist, rough and certain, pulling you closer — close enough to feel his heartbeat, fast and hard against your chest.

Your mouths find each other again, this time deeper, messier, hungrier. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for permission anymore — it just takes. There’s heat in it now, in the way his lips press against yours, in the low, raw grunt he lets out when your nails brush against the back of his neck.

Both of you have your eyes shut, not needing to see when you can feel everything. The tension, the years of pretending, the battlefield closeness that’s finally collapsed in on itself — it’s all there, pressed between you.

And in that breathless space, nothing else exists. Not the mission. Not the kill list. Not the war outside the door.

Just you and Kick — two people who’ve seen too much, lost too much — finally letting themselves want something. Even just for a minute.

You both pulled back from the kiss, breathing a little uneven, like the air had changed shape around you and neither of you were quite ready to speak yet. The space between you hummed, charged and warm, and for a second, all you could do was look at him.

Then you smiled, crooked and knowing. “I just… I know it’s not your first time, Kick.”

He raised a brow at you “Damn. You got me. I was gonna ask if you’d sign my yearbook,” he said, deadpan, like the two of you were in some high school hallway instead of a half-lit room that still smelled like antiseptic and smoke.

You snorted. Just a little. But it slipped out, and he caught it.

He leaned back, still perched on the cot, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the room. Which, let’s be honest, you were.

“So?” he asked, half-teasing. “Was it at least top five?”

You gave him a look, unimpressed but amused. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Fine?” His voice pitched up, full mock quite outrage. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“You had a mild concussion and at least two broken ribs,” you replied, already turning toward the door. “I figured you deserved a morale boost.”

He grinned — smug, even through the wince of pain when he shifted. “Guess I’ll have to earn a real one next time.”

You didn’t answer.

But the silence you left behind wasn’t cold. It wasn’t awkward. It was filled with something heavier — certainty. The kind that didn’t need words, didn’t need to be spelled out.

You paused at the door, hand resting on the frame, and glanced back over your shoulder.

“And for the record,” you said, eyes flicking to his, “top five is generous.”

“Top three,” he called after you, smug as hell. “Don’t lie to yourself!”

You were gone before he saw the smile tug at your lips — that twitch you tried to suppress and failed miserably at.

And Kick leaned back, wincing at his ribs, a hand resting lazily across his chest, still smirking like he’d just won something.

Not bad for a first kiss under fire.

✧ Title: Logan Friends to lovers. [requested]

✧ Characters: Teammate! any! g! Reader X Logan walker.

✧ Summary: That’s a soft burn with sharp edges type of love. A quiet storm. The man doesn’t talk much, but when he loves, it’s with his whole chest—even if he doesn’t know how to say it out loud yet.

✧ Warnings: Nothing, SFW content.

Boy, how he wishes he could just voice his thoughts to you—say everything he feels without hesitation.

Logan’s a composed man, always keeping his emotions in check, keeping his look calm and unreadable.

But inside? He’s emotional. Deeply. He just buries it well, finding any excuse to brush the thoughts off, to pretend they don’t exist—because feeling too much is dangerous for someone like him.

He's the type to notice first, but not acknowledge it.

It starts with awareness.

How you always adjust your gear with purpose.

How your voice sounds over comms.

How you move through a room like you own the space but never demand attention.

Logan notices. Always. And it quietly messes him up.

"Don't be reckless," he tells you before a solo op. You shrug it off. He doesn't.He doesn't say he's scared. He just hands you a fresh mag without a word.

He doesn't talk about it. He just... starts doing more.

And let’s just say… you don't mind his company :)

He’s not clingy, never the type to hover or be constantly in your space—but he wants to be around you. Whether it’s casual chit-chat or just sitting in silence, your presence calms him.

If you’re talkative or social? Hooray, you’re his favorite kind of chaos—because honestly, he’s terrible at starting conversations. But he’ll listen to every word like it matters.

One time, he straight-up asked if he could clean your rifles or do your job for a bit—just to help, just to feel closer to what matters to you.

He always sits across from you at meal time, no matter who else is around. That’s your seat in his world.

And honestly hesh never noticed.

Once, during a casual conversation, you said, “Yes, well, Logan walker here is my teammate”

Logan’s lips parted slightly, eyes dropping to the floor. Teammates? I thought we are… dating. :(

The doubt started creeping in again. Especially when he saw you around the others—talking, working, joking like you always did. And with Kick? Yeah, that stung more than he’d ever admit.

He hated how bitter it made him feel. He isn’t the jealous type—He just wishes he make you laugh like this since he know he is damn well boring man or whatever you think about him.

But after you shared a laugh with a teammate and walked off alone with Logan again talking about the thing they talked about, something reckless slipped out.

Logan let out a dry laugh, brushing it off like nothing. “Yeah… can you imagine? He’s taken? Kinda Ridiculous.”

But beneath the sarcasm, it stung—because that wasn’t about them at all. That was about him.

It’s not a grand moment. It’s not a near-death confession. It’s a normal day where you two are laughing over something dumb someone did.

And Logan looks at you — really looks — and realizes: You’re the peace in the storm. The thing he never thought he deserved.

He doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t confess.

He just… takes a breath.

"If I ever lose this, I don't know who I'd be anymore."

Logan is the type to keep things bottled. He doesn’t say much, but he watches. And he notices everything about you — the way you move during recon, how precise your movements are in the field, the way you handle weapons without wasting time. He admires it quietly.

"You didn’t miss a single shot today," he says one night, his tone unreadable. You raise a brow. "You counting now?" He shrugs. "Only yours."

It doesn’t feel flirty. It feels... like respect. Like interest he doesn’t know how to verbalize yet.

❖ How He Acts After He Knows

Logan’s not awkward, but he’s more… careful. Intentional. His protective nature turns up a notch, but subtly—he won’t smother.

More present when you’re talking, eyes calm and unreadable.

Always behind you in formation, but close enough that if something happens, he’s the first one there.

Noticing your habits, your tells, and memorizing the way you speak when you're tired, stressed, happy.

After realizing his feelings for you, Logan will become even more attuned to your actions and words.

He watches how you work, your posture, your mannerisms. There’s a slight shift in how he looks at you — not just out of respect, but with a level of curiosity he tries to bury.

His focus becomes sharper when you’re around, but he makes sure not to let it slip.

If you’re cleaning your weapon or checking your gear, Logan might catch himself staring a little too long, noticing the precise way you work.

He’ll look away quickly, trying to force his attention elsewhere. He’ll brush it off as nothing, but the truth is, his mind can’t help but wander.

Logan, after realizing his feelings, would likely become even more reserved with you, at least at first.

His calm, stoic demeanor will become more pronounced because he doesn’t want to make any mistake or seem vulnerable.

The last thing he wants is for his emotions to interfere with his professional behavior, so he keeps his distance, not in a cold way, but just in a "I need to stay focused" sort of way.

During a debrief or mission prep, he might address you the same way he addresses everyone else, but he might catch himself pausing for just a fraction of a second longer when you speak.

He’ll have that fleeting moment of wanting to say something — something personal — but he’ll stay silent, pushing those feelings aside to focus on the task at hand.

Despite his attempt at emotional distance, Logan’s care will show through in small, subtle ways.

It’ll be a glance when you’re stressed, a hand just a little too close to yours when passing gear, or a silent offering of something (like an extra water bottle or ration bar) that he knows you’ll need. (also wtf im writing)

After a long day of training or a mission, Logan might say something like, "I left a spare water bottle in your pack." It’s not much, but it’s a small, quiet gesture that shows he’s thinking of you without saying anything.

Another time, if you’re struggling with something, Logan might be there, ready to assist, but he won’t press. He’ll let you handle things your way, but if you need help, he’s right there.

Logan’s feelings for you cause him to question whether he has the luxury to indulge in them.

He's a man of duty, and being in a relationship might distract him from what he needs to do — his mission, his team, the bigger picture. This internal conflict creates moments of tension within himself.

During downtime, Logan might be sitting alone, looking out at the horizon or up at the stars, his mind caught in thought. He's thinking about you, but he's also thinking about the mission, his brother, his father, the team, his responsibilities.

There’s a sense of frustration when he doesn’t know how to balance his feelings and his role.

He might even mutter to himself, “I don’t have time for this.” But deep down, he knows he does, he just doesn’t know how to make space for it yet.

Confession

The air outside was cool, a crisp reminder that despite the tension of war, time still moved in subtle rhythms. You and Logan were on the outskirts of the base, sitting in the shadow of a makeshift barricade. The rest of the team had gone to bed or was deep in other tasks, leaving you two alone, as usual.

You had finished checking your tasks, doing the usual post-mission routine. Logan, who had been quietly focused on his own task, adjusted the strap on his rifle before leaning back, looking out into the endless horizon.

He’d been distant lately, more than usual. You could feel the shift, the weight in the air between you. You both knew something had changed, but neither of you had said a word about it — until now.

"Everything alright?" you asked, voice calm but laced with sweetness. You weren't sure if it was the mission weighing on him or something else, but you could tell he was in his head more than usual.

Logan looked over at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. There was something in them, something you hadn’t seen before — vulnerability, maybe. Or maybe it was just the way he hadn’t really looked at you like that in a while. He sighed, just enough to show a crack in his usual composed demeanor. He sat up, his hand running through his hair.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly looking down, voice low. "Maybe I’ve been… too caught up in the mission, in everything else, and I've let things... slip." He turned his head to you looking at you, you made a slight frown expression in confusion and smiling "Or maybe I just thought if I didn’t acknowledge it, it’d go away."

You can't hide the amusement when logan spoke like this for the first time with you you smiled "What are you talking about?" The underlying tension, the glances exchanged, the silence after mission debriefs. He was talking about you — about how his feelings for you had grown, and how he had tried to ignore them, thinking that focusing on the mission was enough.

"Logan, if this is about..." you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off before you could finish.

"No. It’s not about that," he said, his tone firm, but his voice was shaking slightly. "It’s about... everything. I’ve been focused on this shit, on surviving, on doing what I have to do. And maybe that’s why I’ve been avoiding this — avoiding you."

He paused for a moment, looking at you, as though weighing whether or not to say more. You could see him struggling internally, his usual calm demeanor fighting against the storm of emotions he was trying so hard to keep buried.

"I’m not good at this," Logan admitted, a self-deprecating chuckle slipping past his lips. "Talking about...Emotions. It’s not who I am. I never expected to feel anything more than just... duty. But you’ve made that harder than I thought." His words were careful, but there was an undeniable truth to them.

You didn’t say anything at first, letting him continue.

"I’ve tried to ignore it," Logan continued, his voice growing softer now, as if he was finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you. "Tried to push it down, make it go away. But that’s not how it works, is it?" His gaze locked onto yours again. "I can’t pretend anymore. The way I feel... about you."

The silence hung between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if everything had led up to this moment — all the tension, all the looks, all the times he had held back. Now, there were no more barriers.

"I think about you all the time," Logan admitted, his voice steady but quiet. "I can’t focus when you're around because all I can think about is what this is, what we could be. But I’ve been too damn coward to acknowledge it."

His words lingered in the air for a moment, and despite the vulnerability in them, there was still something in Logan's demeanor that remained composed, measured, like he was afraid of the consequences of saying too much.

He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling as if he was trying to steady himself. He leaned forward, his eyes dropping for a second, his hand subconsciously reaching for the strap of his rifle, then pulling it back, as if physically trying to distract himself.

"But I don’t want to pretend anymore," Logan said, this time with more conviction. His voice was softer now, more intimate. "I... I want this, I want you. I don’t want to be the guy who just runs from this anymore, thinking it’s just a distraction." He paused again, eyes still on the ground. "I’m not asking for anything. I’m just telling you how I feel."

The sincerity in his words was almost overwhelming, especially given how tightly Logan usually kept his emotions in check. He was calm, always calm — but right now, there was a softness to him that made you realize just how much he’d been holding back.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just watched him, letting the words settle. Your heart was racing. You’d known for a while that the tension between you was real, but hearing him admit it, hearing him say it so plainly… it hit you hard.

Finally, you spoke, your voice quieter now, but filled with emotion. “Logan oh my god...what kept you away from saying this!?.”

Logan didn’t move, didn’t react right away. He just stood there, waiting. The briefest flash of uncertainty passed over his face, but it quickly faded as you stepped forward, closing the space between you.

And in that moment, everything fell away — the tension, the doubts, the barriers Logan had built so high. He didn’t hesitate. His hand found the back of yours, pulling you in, and the kiss was slow, hesitant at first, as if both of you were testing the waters. But soon, it deepened, the weight of the moment settling between you both, the relief of finally letting it happen.

When you pulled away, you both just looked at each other, breathless, knowing that this was the start of something real. Something that, no matter how complicated or dangerous the world around you was, was worth fighting for.

Logan’s voice, now quiet, but full of warmth, broke the silence. “I don’t know what’s ahead... but I know I want to face it with you.”

And for the first time in a long while, Logan allowed himself to feel at peace.

I wonder what the reaction of the boys from COD Ghosts would be if their partner decided to break up with them because s/o no longer wants to maintain a relationship with a man who is rarely home and s/o feels abandoned (plus the boys rarely answer messages)

(*My English is not good, I used Google Translate okay 😔✌️✌️*)

✧ 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: Breaking up with them... ✧ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌: Call of Duty Ghosts. ✧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Logan walker, Hesh walker, Keegan russ, Thomas merrick, kick. ✧ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: x GN!reader . ✧ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: angst, comfort. ✧ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Ansgt, Breaking up, emotional experience. ✧ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: GIRLIE YOU DONT FALL FOR THEM WORDS🚩🚩.

Logan walker:

He doesn’t fight it at first. He listens—really listens, eyes locked on yours even if everything in him wants to look away.

When you finally speak, your voice low but firm, it hits like a quiet storm: “I waited, Logan. I waited a long damn time. But you don’t come back anymore… not really. And I don’t want to feel like a ghost in my own relationship.”

His face stays still, unreadable, just like always—but his hands? They tremble, just slightly. The only sign that you’ve cracked something open inside him.

And for once, he has no comeback. No defense. Just silence—and the sound of something unspoken breaking quietly between you.

“I never meant to make you feel alone.”

His voice barely rises above a whisper.

Logan is a man who compartmentalizes to survive—he’s good at pushing pain down so it doesn’t leak out at the worst times. But he doesn’t know how to fight for something he already failed to protect.

He nods once. Eyes drop. Says nothing.

And when you leave, he just sits there, still in his gear, on the edge of the bed, staring at the door like he might will you back through it.

Later, Logan would write you a message. Not to beg, not to change your mind—just to say:

“You deserved more than my silence. I’m sorry.”

He stares at your last message for hours, eyes tracing each word like they might rearrange into something softer if he just keeps looking.

If you left a letter, he reads it five times—maybe more. Then folds it with precision, storing it in the same place he keeps old mission reports. Because to him, this? This heartbreak was a mission that failed.

He expected this, in some way. A quiet part of him always knew it was coming—like an inevitable storm on the horizon he refused to brace for.

His healing won’t be fast. He’ll keep doing the job, keep moving, keep being Logan.

But the quiet moments will be the worst—when the world finally slows down, and there’s nothing left but his own silence and that low ache in his chest. Brooding. Regret. And the echo of a love he couldn’t hold onto.

Hesh walker:

Hesh tries to reason with you—softly, gently. He wants to fix it, patch things up, hold onto what’s slipping through his fingers. But in the end… he respects you. He always has.

Hesh wears his heart on his sleeve, unfiltered and warm. So when you finally say it—that it’s not working, that you feel forgotten, that the fire’s gone dim—he goes quiet.

The golden retriever in him aches to make it right. But then he really looks at you—eyes tired, heart heavy.

“Damn…” he mutters, voice rough and low. “I thought I was doin’ right by protectin’ the world… didn’t realize I was losin’ mine.”

He doesn’t beg. Doesn’t try to trap you with promises he knows he can’t keep. Instead, he rubs a hand over his face, exhaling a rough breath, as if trying to clear the weight in his chest.

He looks at you, that flicker of respect in his eyes, even through the hurt.

“You always had that brave heart. Gotta respect that.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a quiet ache behind it. It’s not anger. It’s not regret. It’s just... acceptance.

"David... you are a perfect guy... but I guess these circumstances won't get there with you."

He nodded once, looking down, the weight of your words sinking into him.

You couldn’t help it—you leaned in just a little, hesitant, unsure.

Then, with a sigh, he met your gaze, a quiet frustration in his eyes. “Jesus, Y/N…”

Before you could say anything more, he pulled you in with one arm, a little firmer than you expected, wrapping it around your waist. You felt the warmth of his embrace, and then a soft peck at the top of your head—a gesture filled with unspoken emotion.

When you finally left, you turned to give him one last look. His smile was simple, but there was something in it—something that spoke of understanding, of finality.

It would take him weeks to heal, maybe longer. But there was an undeniable strength in his acceptance. Deep down, he knew you deserved better than the world he could give.

Keegan russ:

Doesn’t believe you at first.

"I can't do this anymore, Keegan. You're never home. I’m starting to forget what it feels like to miss you… because I’ve already accepted you’re not coming back."

When you say it, his response is flat, emotion barely rising in his voice: “You’re serious?”

You nod. You explain. Every word feels heavier than the last, and he doesn’t interrupt. He just watches you, like you’re walking away with something he forgot he could lose.

He doesn’t fight you on it—not verbally, at least. But there’s something in the way he stands, the tightness around his jaw.

And then, just when you think it’s over, he drops one final dagger: “Guess it was never gonna work. Should’ve seen that coming.”

It’s not that he doesn’t care—it’s that he cares too damn much. He’s pissed at himself. Pissed for letting it get to this point, for letting you feel like this with him. He knows he could’ve done better. And that’s what cuts the deepest.

If Keegan is with you, it means he adores you—taking you on dates, sharing quiet moments, doing everything to make you feel valued, loved.

He never thought this day would come.

That’s all he says at first, his voice flat, like he can’t quite process it.

You press him, asking if he has anything to add. He shrugs once, his gaze distant. “Not gonna chain you to someone who doesn’t show up.”

Later that night, when he's alone, he stares at the photo you took of him—your arm around his arm.

He tucks it into his gear, carefully, as if it’s a part of him that he can’t let go of. Even if you’re no longer in his life, that photo stays with him. And for years, it will.

“Hope you find someone who answers his phone more than once a month.”

He mutters it to himself, his voice rough, barely a whisper, like he’s trying to convince himself that it doesn’t hurt.

Yeah, Keegan would heal fast. Probably within a week. He’d push it all aside, bury it deep. He was good at that—at moving on, at leaving the weight of emotions behind.

But if something—anything—reminded him of you? He’d zone out for a moment, eyes distant, mind replaying that time, those moments, like they were never really gone. And just for a second, the weight of it all would hit him again.

Thomas merrick:

When you bring it up to Merrick, you expect resistance—maybe a speech full of excuses, or a list of reasons why he did what he did.

But instead, he just looks at you with tired, almost kind eyes, like he’s already been through it all before.

“I thought I was protecting you. By keeping you out of this life.”

You shake your head, your voice firm but soft: “That’s not the kind of protection I wanted. I didn’t want a soldier—I wanted you. Home. Present.”

Merrick doesn’t argue. He doesn’t try to explain or justify. He simply nods once, the weight of your words settling between you.

“I guess I failed you either way.” His voice is quiet, resigned—like he knew this moment was coming, but never knew how to avoid it.

He nods, his hand outstretched—offering it without hesitation. You take it, feeling the weight of the moment as he speaks, his voice steady but softer than usual.

“If that’s what your heart's tellin’ you, I ain't gonna fight it.”

You look at him, but he doesn’t let you linger on the uncertainty, adding with a quiet conviction, “But don’t you dare think I didn’t love you just 'cause I was gone'.”

That one hits deep, the raw honesty of it stinging more than you expected.

“You ever need anything... you know where I am.”

After you leave, he sits alone, whiskey glass in hand, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He stays upright, calm, like he’s been through this a thousand times—but the glass stays full for hours, untouched. A quiet reminder that some things aren’t as easy to swallow.

He’ll keep commanding, keep his job done straight—no distractions, no slip-ups. His focus sharp as ever.

But like Keegan, if something—anything—reminds him of you, he’ll just let out a quiet sigh, push the thought away, and move on. There’s no time to dwell.

What an old man, he thinks to himself, to experience these teenager feelings. He’s been through too much to let it pull him down.

But there’s one thing he holds onto, and it gives him some peace: He’s proud of the man he became. Proud that he was the one who stood up, who admitted his mistakes, and told you he was wrong. It wasn’t easy, but it was the right thing to do.

Kick:

He jokes at first, trying to brush it off with humor, his usual defense mechanism. But something shifts inside him as the words leave your mouth.

When you say, “I don’t feel like we’re in a relationship anymore,” he raises a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Babe, don’t say that. You're just mad ‘cause I forgot to reply to your message last week.”

But when you don’t laugh—when your eyes are watery but firm, holding a quiet strength that cuts through him—he sobers fast.

He leans in, voice low, almost hesitant, like he’s hoping it’s all just a misunderstanding. “You’re not serious. Right?”

When you don’t back down, when you meet his gaze with nothing but truth, he mutters under his breath, “Damn… you are.” And just like that, he knows it’s real.

He paces, his boots hitting the floor with heavy steps. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to steady himself, to think of something—anything—that could fix this. He tries to make you laugh, throwing out half-hearted jokes in an effort to ease the tension.

But when he realizes nothing he says is going to change the way you feel—when the weight of it all finally hits—he stops.

“So, what? I don’t get to be in your corner anymore? Just like that?” His voice cracks slightly, a mix of frustration and disbelief.

He watches you, waiting for any sign that this is just a bad dream, but when he finally sees that you truly mean it, his heart sinks.

After a long silence, you break it, your voice sharp but tired: “Kick, say something. You’re just keep looking.”

He exhales, the heaviness in his chest settling. “You ain’t wrong. Can’t lie and say I’ve been much of a boyfriend. Ain’t had the time to be.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze softening as he looks at you, quieter now. “Never wanted you to feel second place, darlin’. That’s on me.”

There’s nothing left to say. No excuses. Just the truth. And it’s a bitter one.

As you leave, the final hug between you both feels heavier than anything that came before. The silence stretches, but even then, he can’t stop himself from saying something, his voice softer than usual—almost like a whisper of regret.

“You deserve someone who can make a home, not just stories.”

He’s accepted it now. At first, he thought you just didn’t understand the weight of his job—the danger, the uncertainty. But now, sitting in the quiet aftermath, he realizes the truth: No partner would willingly live with someone who disappears for over a month at a time.

After you’re gone, he falls into his own kind of silence. Alone. Depressed. It’s the kind of loneliness he’s used to, but now, it feels emptier.

He never talks or gushes about you like what he used to do before.

He deletes your contact from his phone. It’s the logical step, the clean break, or so he tells himself.

But your photos? They stay. He can’t bring himself to delete them all, not yet. He looks at them sometimes, the ones where you’re laughing, the ones where you’re close, just before everything changed.

And in the silence, he lets the memories linger.

Can I just say, that your work is literally so canon. Like you write the characters so realistically and so IN character. It’s downright beautiful, as far as I’m concerned your word is law 💕

May I request, how the Ghost team would react to confessing their love to teammate!reader while completely blackout drunk??

Like, they’ve fallen madly in love with reader, like I’m talking soulmate-once-in-a-lifetime-love things. But they’ve never acted upon it, always trying to repress their feelings for reader

But after a long mission, they all go to a bar, get drunk, and climb onto a table, stage, roof, anything, and just scream out their undying love reader. Or they get injured and the morphine makes them confess their love for reader. Either way, they wake up the next day, hungover af, and find out what they did by a teammate showing them a video of what they did

How will they react? How will they act while love-struck but in denial?? What will they do after seeing the video???

(If it’s too complicated or too much for you, then feel free to ignore this, have a nice day 😚❤️)

OMG ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE KIND WORDS!!! THEY MEANT A LOT TO ME!!!

Anon this is so cheesy for me Idk why haha but still whatever this fandom want🙏🏻🤎.

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

Drunk (overreacted) confessions from them

characters: Logan walker, Hesh walker, Keegan p. russ, Kick.

X fem! Reader!

Notes: mention of alcohol!

Logan walker:

Logan isn’t usually a drinker, but after a long mission, he lets himself indulge. Unfortunately, tonight? Yeah, he overdid it.

At first, he’s just sitting quietly at the bar, drink in hand, looking at you like he always does—like you put the stars in the damn sky.

But then, something in his brain snaps. And before anyone can stop him, Logan climbs onto the bar counter, his movements surprisingly smooth despite the alcohol.

You groan, already bracing for whatever drunken nonsense is about to come out of his mouth. Logan isn’t a loud guy. He’s the quiet, brooding type—the one who watches from the shadows, sharp-eyed and calculating. But tonight? Thanks to way too much whiskey, he’s a whole different person.

The entire bar goes quiet as heads turn toward him. The team looks half-amused, half-horrified. Keegan mutters something under his breath, Hesh already has his face in his hands, and Kick? Kick’s just smirking slightly with kind of shocked expression, waiting to see how bad this gets.

You, however, are just trying to decide if you should drag him down now or let him embarrass himself first.

Logan sways slightly but holds his ground, looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the entire room that matters. His glass wobbles in his grip as he points right at you, eyes unfocused but filled with a ridiculous amount of passion.

“This—THIS RIGHT HERE,” he announces, voice thick with emotion, “is the most incredible, badass, beautiful human being I have EVER seen.”

Oh god.

You cover your face with your hands as laughter and whistles erupt from the bar. Someone claps. Someone else calls out, "Damn right!" and Logan, absolutely thriving off the attention, continues.

“You don’t even understand how lucky I am,” he slurs, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “This woman—this goddess—she puts up with my brooding ass every single day. And she STILL looks at me like I’m worth a damn.” He pauses for a second, brows furrowing like he just had the deepest thought of his life. Then, suddenly, he grins. “That’s LOVE, people.”

You peek through your fingers, only to find him staring directly at you again, swaying slightly but still standing tall. Then, in the most theatrical, overly dramatic display possible

“AND I WOULD DIE FOR HER.”

The bar erupts.

Kick is howling with laughter, Keegan actually smirks, and Hesh is trying—and failing—To not acknowledge this is his brother standing. Someone in the back yells, “Kiss ‘her already!” and Logan, still very much riding the high of his drunk declaration

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

The morning after was hell.

Logan woke up with his head pounding, an insistent throb that seemed to match the rhythm of his heartbeat. He groaned, eyes squinting against the harsh light streaming through the window, as if the entire universe was conspiring to make him feel worse. His mouth tasted like ash, and his stomach churned in protest.

He shifted, slowly peeling himself off the bed, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Morning, lo," you said, holding up your phone in front of his face.

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, blinking away the remnants of sleep. And then, he saw it: the video.

No.

He immediately knew what it was. The alcohol-induced confession from last night. The one that had him spilling his heart out in front of the entire bar.

"Fuck, no..." he mumbled, his body going rigid as he pulled the blanket over his face, sinking into the pillows, trying to block out whatever embarrassment was coming his way. He wasn’t sure which was worse: the hangover or the thought of reliving his drunken declaration.

But you weren’t having it. You sat on the edge of the bed, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, as you pressed "Play" on the video.

Logan’s groan was audible as the playback began.

The video started with him standing on the bar, arms outstretched like some drunken Shakespearean actor, whiskey sloshing in his glass. You could hear the crowd cheering, the clinking of glasses, and then Logan’s voice—loud, completely unfiltered.

“THIS—THIS RIGHT HERE is the most incredible, badass, beautiful human being I have EVER seen."

Logan’s eyes widened as the words hit him like a freight train. His face instantly buried deeper into his hands, and he let out a long, suffering groan.

The video continued, his drunken confession echoing in the room. “I WOULD DIE FOR HER.”

By now, Logan had curled into a ball, attempting to disappear completely under the blanket, but you were relentless, laughing softly.

“You might want to see the best part, Logan. You know, the part where you said you’d die for me?”

Logan’s muffled voice came out from under the covers, full of defeat. “Fucking… why you doing this. I never should’ve had that last drink.”

You kept the phone at a safe distance, just long enough for him to hear the entire confession.

When it ended, you put the phone down on the bedside table, the silence in the room hanging thick and heavy. Logan didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

You watched him for a moment before leaning over, placing a hand gently on his strong shoulder. "Logan..."

He finally emerged from under the blanket, face red and eyes wide with embarrassment. "I can’t believe I—" He cut himself off, looking like he wanted to sink into the bed and never come out again. “God, please tell me no one recorded that."

You gave him a playful look. "Oh, don’t worry. It was just the whole bar... and maybe a couple of the regulars."

Logan groaned again, his face buried back into the pillow, but this time, a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "This is it. I’m done. I’m staying in this room until everyone forgets about last night."

You chuckled, rubbing his strong back. “Well, you did say you loved me. It was a pretty sweet confession, even if you were drunk.”

Logan let out a breath, sounding both defeated and affectionate at once. "Yeah, but not like that..." He peeked up at you, his eyes softer than before. “I meant it, though. Every damn word.”

You smiled down at him, a little teasing, but your heart warmed. "I know you did, Logan. I know you did."

And in that moment, even with the hangover, the embarrassment, and the ridiculous video, everything else faded into the background. Because despite his blunders, despite everything, Logan’s feelings were real. And maybe, just maybe, that made the whole thing worth it.

Hesh walker:

Hesh is a messy drunk. He gets cocky at first, then way too sentimental.

So after a few rounds of tequila shots, He was looking at you now smiling softly when you holding a cup give a confused look with a smile, he looked cute in your opinion.

He struggled so bad with his words due to his drunk statement.

And when you couldn't understand him telling him "Careful, david. that sounds like a confession"

He groaned annoyed at you then he sat in front of you on the counter bar shocked you when he hold your face for a seconds to look at him and FOCUS ON HIM.

He stared at you with a mix of admiration and... something else. You felt his gaze before you saw it, the intensity of it like a spotlight on you.

And then, without any warning, Hesh slammed his drink down on the bar and pointed a finger at you.

"Y/N! I—I LOVED YOU SINCE FOREVER AGO. YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND FUNNY AND YOU KICK ASS AND I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD."

You blinked, trying to process what was happening. Your heart skipped a beat, your mind going blank for a moment. The entire bar went silent for a split second, all eyes turning toward him. You could practically hear the crickets.

"David are you fucking for real right now?"

Logan, of course, wasn’t fazed in the slightest. He simply took a slow sip from his own drink, his eyes lazily flicking over to you with an unreadable expression. and yeah he succeeded in making himself a stranger just like the other fellas at the bar.

"…Dude," Logan muttered under his breath, not even bothering to give Hesh a side-eye.

But you? You were staring at Hesh, wide-eyed, completely stunned by his sudden confession. You didn’t know how to respond—what do you even say to that? Was this some kind of drunken ramble? Or was he being serious?

Hesh, however, wasn’t done. He leaned forward on the bar, ignoring the stares of the others in the room, fully committed to whatever the hell he was saying.

"I don’t care if anyone’s listenin’! I just—" He gestured wildly, a bit too animated for someone who had been drinking, "I just need you to know. You make everything better. You’re—everything. And I just wanna kiss you, Y/N, I—FUCK IT!"

You were completely overwhelmed, your face turning beet red. You felt so shy, suddenly unable to look him in the eye as his words washed over you. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your heart was racing, and the only thing you could manage to do was give a nervous, sheepish smile.

“Yeah, david... I’m just gonna go,” you muttered, suddenly feeling very much out of your element. You didn’t even wait for a response before turning to leave the bar, your mind spinning in circles.

But as you started to walk away, you heard Hesh’s voice from behind you, almost like a whine.

“What? Where’re you goin’?! Come on, don’t leave me hangin' like that!”

You quickened your pace, trying to hide the blush on your face, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. There was something so undeniably Hesh about the way he threw himself into everything, no shame, no hesitation.

Logan didn’t even glance your way as you left. He was too busy finishing his drink, probably already onto the next thing in his head. But as you made your way out of the bar, you couldn’t help but think about what Hesh said.

It was loud, it was unexpected, but in a weird way, it was also kinda sweet.

And for now, that’s enough.

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

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a hazy glow over the room. Hesh lay there, still tangled in the sheets, groaning softly as his hand rubbed his temple. His head throbbed—he knew exactly what had happened last night. The alcohol, the words he couldn’t take back, the confession that had spilled out of him like an unstoppable flood.

“Why do I feel like I made an ass of myself last night?” he muttered, staring out the window as if the morning sun could offer him some sort of redemption.

You, standing at the door, couldn’t help but smirk. You'd been waiting for this moment, the moment Hesh would finally confront his drunken rambling. "You did, David. You really did," you said, your voice light but with just enough teasing to make him stiffen.

He turned around, wide-eyed, like he’d just seen a ghost. “Oh, nah…” he mumbled, running his hand over his face as if the words he’d spoken the night before were some sort of fever dream.

But it was too late. You pulled up the video on your phone and hit Play.

Immediately, his own voice echoed through the room, the confession he had made without a second thought. “I LOVE YOU SINCE FOREVER AGO. YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND FUNNY AND YOU KICK ASS AND I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD.”

Hesh’s face turned redder than a tomato, and he buried his face in hands, his eyes closed as if he could somehow will the video—and the whole embarrassing memory—out of existence. But it kept playing, louder and louder.

When it ended, you could see the sheer defeat on his face. He was completely silent for a long moment. And then, with an exhale that was equal parts frustrated and resigned, he turned toward you, clearly ready to face the consequences.

"So that’s not me," he said flatly, as if to make some sort of last-ditch attempt at saving face.

You raised an eyebrow, trying hard to keep the amusement from spilling over. You could tell he was desperately hoping you’d let him off the hook, maybe pretend it never happened. But you just shook your head slowly, the smile still playing on your lips.

“No, David,” you said, trying to hold back a chuckle. “That was definitely you.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment, the weight of his embarrassment hanging between you two. His eyes were searching you, desperate for some reassurance, the fear of rejection clear in the way his posture softened. He was terrified that you'd hate him for the drunken mess he'd made of himself. But you weren’t going to make this easy on him.

"So..." you leaned in slightly, voice a little teasing. "When are you gonna kiss me?"

And just like that, the air shifted. Hesh’s entire system seemed to freeze. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly parted in confusion, like the real shock had just hit him. The cogs in his brain struggled to work as he stared at you, caught completely off guard.

Hesh.exe has stopped working.

You couldn’t help it. You chuckled at the look on his face. His hands flew up to his hair, messing it up even more, trying to formulate a response, but no words came out. His usual smooth, confident self was nowhere to be found. He was just a big, lovable mess of flustered nerves.

“Y/N stop it for real...” he stammered, trying to find something to say, his voice cracking under the pressure.

You raised your eyebrows, enjoying this moment just a little too much. “I mean… you did say you wanted to kiss me. Pretty badly, actually.”

Hesh groaned, dropping his body back into the couch, completely defeated. "I’m never drinking again."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "We both know that’s a lie, David."

But you didn’t let the moment linger in the awkward tension. Slowly, you walked over to his side of the couch, bending down to meet his gaze. "You’re lucky I think it’s cute, you know?"

He looked up at you, a small, sheepish smile finally tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I know. sorry for the embarrassment i brought to ya."

“You’re lucky I’m not going to hold it against you. But seriously… when’s that kiss coming?” [chat sorry i asked a lot but eh yknow its hesh]

Hesh’s smile grew, more confident now that the storm had passed. “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “You kinda deserve to.”

Keegan p. russ:

Keegan doesn’t get wasted often.

But when he does? It’s bad.

Tonight is one of those nights.

And instead of yelling his confession like the others, he just—stares at you. Like, straight-up, glassy-eyed, utterly in love staring.

Merrick nudged him with his elbow. “You good, Keegan?”

Keegan didn’t even bother to look at him. Instead, he just sighed, resting his elbow on the table holding his drink, his eyes staring at the table like he was lost in thought.

“No,” he muttered, voice low, like the weight of the world was pressing on him. “Fuck it, I’m not.”

You raised an eyebrow, hearing the frustration in his tone. It wasn’t like Keegan to let anything show, especially not in front of the team. “Why’s that?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

Keegan barely spared you a glance. He waved a hand lazily in your direction, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “’Cause of you.”

You blinked, totally thrown off by the sudden and completely unexpected response. “Me?”

He nodded, his expression serious, almost unsettlingly so. It was like a switch had flipped, and the usual cool, collected Keegan had become something… different. “Mhm. You’re so goddamn perfect, it pisses me off.”

Your heart skipped a beat. What was happening? Keegan—cold, aloof Keegan—was looking at you with a kind of intensity that made you feel small, vulnerable. His gaze didn’t soften, didn’t break. It was like he was studying you, trying to figure you out in a way that made your stomach twist.

You couldn’t quite process the words he was saying. It was like a bomb had just dropped, and now everything was in slow motion. His tone was so calm, so detached, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were burning with something you couldn’t name.

And it scared you.

“…What?” You said it more to yourself than to him, your voice faltering slightly. You were completely thrown off. Keegan never acted like this. He was the cool, stoic guy in the corner, the one who didn’t let anything shake him. But right now, the way he was looking at you—confessing like this, with that cold, sharp edge—was unnerving. And yet, strangely… alluring.

He didn’t respond right away, just kept his gaze locked on you like he was daring you to understand, to process the weight of his words. His lips barely twitched at the corners, the faintest trace of a smirk threatening to break through.

The room felt smaller suddenly. Merrick’s voice was muffled, the noise of the team faded away as your focus stayed completely on Keegan. You were frozen in place, unsure how to react, unsure of how to deal with this new side of him.

He didn’t give you much of a chance to recover, though. His coldness was like a wall, but the words he spoke were undeniable, carrying the truth of them in a way that made your chest tighten.

And in that moment, you realized—Keegan wasn’t just being cold. He was being honest. And it wasn’t something you were ready for. Not from him. Not like this.

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

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a dull glow on Keegan's room. His head felt heavy, the weight of last night's events still pressing on his chest. He could barely remember what exactly had happened, but the fragments that were coming back to him were enough to make him cringe. Every word, every look, every confession—it was all there. And it was all his fault.

Keegan groaned, running a hand through his messy black hair. His blue eyes, usually sharp and calculated, were tired and heavy from the lack of sleep and the frustration that lingered from his own actions. He could still hear the echo of his words, the way he’d made that stupid confession to you, the way you had looked at him like you’d never seen him before. He hated it.

As if the universe decided to torture him just a bit more, there was a knock at his door. Keegan froze, hoping against hope that it was one of the guys. Anyone but you.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, not even bothering to mask his irritation. He stood up, rubbed his eyes, and reluctantly made his way to the door. He wasn’t ready to face you—not after what he’d said.

He opened the door, his tired, lazy blue eyes locking onto you. He sighed, turning his head away slightly, hoping you didn’t notice the tension in his face.

"Shit," he muttered again, though this time it was more to himself. "Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?"

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his coldness. Of course, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you. Not after what happened. But you weren’t going to let him brush it off that easily.

You crossed your arms, standing your ground. "You know we need to talk, right?"

Keegan sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair again, looking frustrated. "Not now. We’ll talk later, alright?"

But you weren't having any of it. You knew Keegan's cold, distant attitude. He always pushed things off, avoided confrontation. But you weren’t going to let him get away with it this time. You weren’t going to let him just pretend it never happened.

"No, Keegan," you said firmly, your voice softer but still determined. "You will talk about it now. We-oh sorry no, You need to settle this."

Keegan let out a long, exasperated breath, his shoulders slumping as he stepped back, motioning for you to come inside. The look in his eyes was a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. He didn’t want to admit it. Hell, he didn’t even want to face it. But the more he tried to push it away, the more the weight of his actions pressed on him.

"You don't get it," he muttered quietly, his voice losing the sharp edge it usually carried. "I don’t do this..." He shook his head, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don't say things like that."

You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. Keegan didn’t even look at you, his gaze focused on the floor. His walls were coming down, slowly but surely, and he hated it. He hated how vulnerable he was feeling, how human he felt in this moment. It was rare for him to let anyone see this side of him—the side that didn’t have everything under control.

"You didn’t mean it, right?" you said softly, almost as if you were trying to reassure him. But there was a challenge in your voice. "Or did you?"

Keegan’s eyes lifted to you hands on his hips muscle, and for a moment, you saw something in them—a softness, something he didn’t usually show. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. The silence stretched, but then, quietly, he admitted, "I meant it."

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.

The confession, the vulnerability—he couldn’t hide it anymore.

You stepped closer, your gaze steady but warm. "Keegan..." you said, soft but full of understanding. "You don’t have to be scared of saying it."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, you saw the wall he’d built around himself crack just a little. The harsh, cold Keegan you knew was still there, but this was him—really him. And in that quiet moment, he finally softened with a scoff, just enough for you to see it.

“Fuck it, I’m not scared,” he replied scoffing at you, his voice rough, but there was a hint of something different in it now. Something real.

And that was all you needed to hear.

You reached out, placing a hand on his chest, him breathing out looking at your hand. "Good. never thought you would get the balls to admit it russ"

He didn’t say anything in response, but the weight that had been pressing on him seemed to ease. The tension in his shoulders relaxed. He may have been a man of few words, but in that moment, the silence between you both spoke louder than anything else.

And for the first time, Keegan didn’t mind it.

Kick:

Kick holds his liquor well. Or at least, he thinks he does.

And he did too much when he gave in.

He is a honest person when he is soer just imagine him when he is drunk.

You were sitting hearing the chit chats, getting in with them.

When you felt someone pulled a chair next to you, it was kick.

You smiled kindly to him then returning back to the conversation turning your head.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low but steady. “I got a secret, Y/N.” He took a long sip of his drink, the way he swallowed hard indicating he was probably trying to brace himself for whatever was coming.

You turning your attention to him smiling, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

Kick tapped your shoulder with every word he spoke, his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “I. Am. In. Love. With. You.”

Your breath caught in your throat. For a second, everything around you seemed to freeze. The bar noise faded into the background, and all you could focus on was Kick. His smile was lazy, like he was saying something casual, but there was something in his eyes that told you this was anything but.

"Like, really in love," he continued, his voice almost playful but with an edge of sincerity that made your chest tighten. "Like, wanna spend the rest of my life with you kinda love. Ain’t that crazy?"

The entire team, unbeknownst to him, was watching from the sidelines, eyes flicking between you and him. You could feel the weight of their gaze, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in your chest. Your mind was racing, trying to process what Kick had just said. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the sudden intensity of his words, or the fact that you weren’t expecting any of it—but there you were, completely stunned.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. All you could do was stare at him, your mind blank.

Then, after a beat, you finally managed to find your voice, though it was quieter than usual. “Let me think about it,” you said, your tone more measured, but there was a hint of playfulness in it too.

Without giving him another chance to respond, you stood up and walked away, heading for the exit of the bar. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, the weight of his confession still lingering in the air.

You left him there, grinning like an idiot god he was so proud of you playing with feelings like thus, but also... kind of hoping he'd do exactly what he always did: chase you.

And for once, you didn't mind that he would.

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

The morning light filtered in through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. Kick was sprawled on the couch, his head pounding, the aftermath of a night he could barely remember. His eyes slowly fluttered open, the familiar weight of a hangover making everything feel ten times worse.

He groaned and turned his head, trying to adjust to the light, only to find you sitting across the room, looking way too awake for someone who’d been drinking with him the night before. You smiled playfully, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "How things, kick."

He blinked at you, confused for a second. His brain was still foggy from the alcohol, trying to piece together what had happened last night. The words he’d spoken to you—those declarations, the confession—felt like distant echoes in his mind. But as you reached for your phone, the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks.

You pressed play. to the voice recorder file you have saved.

A sharp, rough voice—the unmistakable tone of Kick—filtered through the speakers. "I. Am. In. Love. With. You." It was followed by the sound of his words growing more passionate, more real, more raw. "Like, really in love. Like, wanna spend the rest of my life with you kinda love."

Kick froze. His face drained of color as the realization of his drunken confession sunk in. Oh shit. He had said all that. And now, you were playing it back to him like it was nothing.

There was a heavy silence between you both as his head throbbed, and all he could do was stare at you. His mind raced, heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and anxiety.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Shit, Y/N. Sorry I made the first confession this ridiculous," he muttered, looking down at the floor as if it could swallow him up. He had always prided himself on being cool, collected, but now, faced with the fallout of his own words, that image was completely shattered.

You didn’t respond immediately, letting him stew in his own regret for a moment. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until you finally spoke up.

"I don’t mind it at all..." you said, offering a gentle, reassuring smile. "It wasn’t that bad."

Kick looked up at you, disbelief in his eyes. Was that your reaction? He’d expected you to laugh or make some snide comment. But instead, you were... calm. Maybe even understanding. And it made him feel a little less like a fool.

He leaned back, trying to steady his breathing. "I don’t want to make a joke out of this, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now, but there was a level of sincerity in it that was rare for Kick. "I respect you too much for that."

There was a moment where his amber eyes softened, his usual cocky demeanor slipping away. His shoulders sagged, as if he was finally letting his guard down. "Look... I said all that last night, and I meant it. But maybe I said it wrong... or, I dunno, too loudly. But it was the truth."

You could see it—the shift. Kick wasn’t just the guy who liked to joke around, to keep things light. In that moment, he was real with you. And you could tell he was waiting, hoping for an answer, no matter how scared he was of what it might be.

You watched him carefully, your mind processing his words. You could feel the weight of the confession, his vulnerability. He wasn’t just trying to win you over with jokes anymore. He was being honest, and he was asking for something that took guts.

And just like that, you knew how you felt. You weren’t about to make him wait any longer. You smiled softly, a look of understanding and affection in your eyes.

"I think you were just too drunk to say it any other way," you said, your voice light but genuine, teasing just enough to break the tension.

Kick blinked at you, clearly relieved that you weren’t going to make this awkward for him. He let out a small, amused laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, maybe. But now that I’m sober... I meant every damn word."

There was no more joking, no more avoiding the truth. This time, you could see the real Kick, the one who wasn’t afraid to admit when he felt something. And it was all out in the open now. You didn’t need him to say anything else. You knew the answer to his question.

"I think..." you paused, eyes meeting his. "I think you’re not as bad as you make yourself out to be."

He laughed again, this time with a little more warmth. "Well, guess that’s something, huh?"

And in that moment, Kick felt like maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Relationship Alphabet series with Cod ghosts!

Kick

✧ Pairing: Romantic.

✧ Genre: Fluff.

X GN READER

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

SFW: Kick isn’t overly affectionate in public, He got the courage to show his love for you in front of people and has no care, but in private? He’s got this effortless way of showing love without making a big deal out of it. A casual arm over your shoulders, a hand on the small around your waist walking through a crowd, or passing you a drink before you even ask. He’s the kind of guy who’ll sit next to you after a long day and just chatting, his presence alone making things feel lighter.

Light NSFW: He has a habit of pulling you close by the belt loops or wrapping an arm around your waist, fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin. And when no one’s around? His lips find that spot right below your jaw, his voice low and teasing.

“Damn, you really just stand there looking this good all day, huh?”

B – Boundaries

SFW: Kick respects space and expects the same in return. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t push—he trusts you’ll come to him when you’re ready. That being said, he’s got an unspoken boundary about his past. He’ll tell you things on his own time, but he won’t be forced into it, since kick is an information technology specialist and wanted, he trained himself most importantly to be cautious.

Light NSFW: He’s down for a little teasing, but there’s a time and place. You try anything in the middle of his tech working? He’s shutting that down real quick. “Focusing, sweetheart. Save it for later.”

C – Communication

SFW: Kick is direct but reserved. If something’s wrong, he’ll tell you—but in few words, He’s a listener first, always taking in more than he says. If he’s upset, he needs time to process before talking, but when he does, it’s straight to the point. he expects the same. He’s a problem-solver, so if there’s an issue, he wants to fix it, not dance around it, Never talks about his work with you, work stays in work section, cause he don't want to mess with your head with the fucked up things he saw.

Light NSFW: He has this low, slow drawl when he talks in that tone. He doesn’t just say things; he makes sure you feel them, He is a talker, a mid one. Likes to ask you, or praising. and these words came a lot from his lips.

“Goddamit yes, You keep look at me like that!”

D – Devotion

SFW: Ride or die. If Kick is with you, he’s with you. He won’t say things like “I’d do anything for you”—he just does it. You’re his priority, simple as that. The way he looks out for you—making sure you eat, remembering little things like how you take your coffee/tea—it’s all quiet but unmistakable devotion.

I always thought because kick is a technology specialist, he is wanted especially when his pic was on the kill list, he never thought about having a partner but here he is with you, and he would kill a fed soldier if it means staying with you.

Light NSFW: He’s a patient man, but there are moments he just wants. When that switch flips, his devotion turns into something intense, lips against your ear, hands gripping just tight enough.

“You are my love. You know that, right?”

E – Empathy

SFW: Kick isn’t the kind of guy to sugarcoat things, but he’s good at reading you. He picks up on the small things—the shift in your voice, the way your shoulders tense. He won’t ask if you’re okay in front of others, but later? When it’s just the two of you? He’ll casually sit beside you, suddenly kneeling in front of you while you are sitting on the couch holding one of your knee. “Talk to me.” And not in a pleading or softy way.

Light NSFW: He knows what you like, and he will gladly listen to what you want, knows when to take his time and when to push. He listens—to words, to the way you react. It’s all about you, and he makes sure you know it.

F – Forgiveness

SFW: He doesn’t hold grudges, but he doesn’t forget either. If you mess up, own it. Apologize, and he’ll move forward, no problem. But betray his trust? That’s not something easily fixed, especially if it's after a long time of dating he didn't expect it from you so he will have two choices, leave everything behind and move on with you, or leave you with everything behind him.

Light NSFW: He doesn’t do “angry” intimacy. If he’s pissed, he walks it off before even thinking about touching you. But the reconciliation after a fight? Slow, deliberate, leaving no room for doubt that everything’s okay again.

G – Growth

SFW: Kick isn’t someone who rushes things. He understands that relationships evolve, that people change, and he’s good with that. He sees growth as something you do together, not just individually. If you’re trying to be better, he supports it. If he needs to work on something, he will—without needing to be told twice.

Light NSFW: Growth in intimacy means learning what works and what doesn’t, figuring out the unspoken rhythms between you. He’s patient, always watching for what you respond to, never making it feel rushed or forced.

H – Honesty

SFW: Kick doesn’t sugarcoat anything. If you ask for his opinion, expect the truth. Not in a harsh way, but in a direct way. If you’re upset about something and he doesn’t understand why? He’ll ask. If he screws up? He owns it.

Light NSFW: There’s no faking with Kick. He’s attuned to you, knows when you’re holding back or if something’s off. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’ don't know what you want.” He wants the truth, even when it’s just the two of you tangled up in sheets, breathing against each other’s skin.

I – Intimacy

SFW: Kick isn’t big on grand gestures, but his intimacy shows in small, constant ways—his hand resting on your back absentmindedly, leaning against you when he’s tired he likes it even more when he rests his head on your lap, he feels peaceful, especially that feeling when he knows he is comfortable finally with someone, pulling you into his side on the couch. It’s comfort. Security. He’s not loud about it, but you feel it.

Light NSFW: When it’s just the two of you, his usual calm takes on an edge of intensity. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t get sloppy. He watches you, listens, and takes his time learning.

“Relax. Let me take care of you.” His voice is low, all confidence, all promise.

J – Joy

SFW: His humor is dry, always the one who makes you laugh but when he laughs? Really laughs? It’s rare and warm, and it lingers. His joy isn’t big or loud—it’s in the quiet moments, in teasing you under his breath, in the way his eyes soften when you’re happy. He likes making you laugh. That’s his favorite sound.

Light NSFW: There’s a playful side to him in private, smirking against your skin, teasing just enough to make you squirm and this his joy, especually if you are a tough partner and thinks he got this power to lead you like this state.

“That’s cute. Keep making that.”

K – Kindness

SFW: Kick’s kindness isn’t in words—it’s in actions. It’s carrying your stuff when he knows you’re exhausted. It’s passing you a water bottle before you realize you need it. It’s making sure you get the last bite of something good. He doesn’t announce his kindness; he just does it.

Light NSFW: He’s attentive, making sure you’re comfortable, that you’re getting as much as you’re giving. It’s never just about him—it’s you, always both of you.

L – Love

SFW: Kick’s love isn’t flashy. It’s consistent. It’s steady hands and a quiet “I got you.” It’s trust, built over time. He might not say I love you every second, but when he does? He means it.

Light NSFW: When he really loves you, it shows in how he touches you—every movement slow, intentional, lingering. It’s in the way he whispers against your neck, the way his breath hitches slightly when you say his name. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

M – Memories

SFW: He holds onto things—small details, fleeting moments. The first time he made you laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe, the exact way you look when you’re happy. He remembers. And sometimes, late at time, when it’s quiet, he’ll tell you.

Light NSFW: His memories are the time when he remembers the most new intimate experiences you guys had, he just likes the way he made you felt, the way when you have the full guts to tell him what you like and what you wanna do.

N – Nurturing

SFW: Kick doesn’t come across as the nurturing type, but he is—just in his own way. If you’re exhausted, he won’t say, “You need to rest.” Instead, he’ll shut down whatever’s keeping you up and quietly make sure you have what you need. He’s not a fan of coddling, but he’ll take care of you in the most practical, effective way possible.

If you’re sick? He’s grumbling while making sure you drink enough water, tossing a blanket over you without a word.

If you’re injured or hurt? He’s shaking his head but cleaning the wound himself, precise and careful.

If you’re having a bad day? He won’t push. Just silently hands you your favorite whatever thing and sits with you until you feel better.

Light NSFW: He’s all about taking care of you. He’s observant, knows when you need something without you having to say it. He doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but you can tell by the way his hands are so careful with you. “Relax. Let me handle it.”

O – Openness

SFW: Kick’s not one to easily open up. He keeps things locked up tight, prefers actions over words. But when he trusts you? When he really lets you in? It’s rare, but it’s everything.

He’s not a fan of long talks about feelings, but he’ll give you small truths in quiet moments.

Maybe it’s “I don’t talk about this shit with anyone else.” said in a rare moment of honesty.

Maybe it’s the way he leans into you when he’s had a long day, his body language saying everything he won’t.

Light NSFW: His openness in intimacy comes slowly, in layers. At first, he keeps things more physical, but as his walls come down, you start to see how much he really feels. The way his breath stutters when you touch him a certain way. The way he lingers afterward, tracing patterns into your skin, the only openness he got when he let you do whatever he wants.

P – Patience

SFW: Kick is absurdly patient. He’s a sniper—waiting is what he does. He won’t rush you, won’t push you into anything before you’re ready. His patience shows in how he listens, how he lets you come to him rather than demanding answers.

If you’re struggling to say something? He won’t press, just sits there quietly, waiting.

If you’re upset? He won’t tell you to calm down—he’ll just be there, solid and steady.

If you’re learning something new? He’ll go over it as many times as you need without making you feel stupid.

Light NSFW: He takes his time. He enjoys drawing things out, watching your reactions, figuring out exactly what gets to you. He doesn’t rush—he savors. “No need to rush, love.”

Q – Quality Time

SFW: Kick is so big on flashy dates or extravagant plans. His idea of quality time is just being with you and sparkle these times with sweet places. He’s always talkative, he likes having you there. Whether it’s sitting in comfortable any place, working out together, or just driving somewhere with the windows down and the radio low—it counts.

He’ll remember what you like, will adjust to your preferences without thinking.

If you need excitement? He’ll take you somewhere fun, something active.

If you need peace? He’s all for long walks at night, quiet conversations under night sky.

His favorite? Lying in bed late at night, just existing together, no pressure to talk or do anything.

R – Respect

SFW: Kick doesn’t throw respect around lightly—you earn it. That’s why, when he’s with you, it means something. He won’t undermine you, won’t treat you like you can’t handle yourself.

He values competence, effort, and genuine strength—and he respects you because of who you are, not just because you’re his partner.

If someone talks down to you or disrespected? He doesn’t have to say much—already tracking their location and threaten them to shut down all of them devices, and not even try to think about it again.

He listens when you talk, actually takes in what you’re saying. If you have different opinions? He won’t dismiss them—he’ll challenge them, push you to think, but he won’t ever invalidate you.

He respects your independence but won’t hesitate to step in if you need him.

S – Support

SFW: Kick isn’t the type to coddle or sugarcoat things, but he will have your back no matter what. His way of supporting you isn’t about words—it’s actions.

If you’re struggling? He won’t say “It’ll be okay.” He’ll say, “What do you want to do next?” that question means don't you dare hold back

If you fail? He won’t pity you. He’ll help you figure out what went wrong and how to fix it.

If you’re exhausted? He won’t tell you to rest—he’ll make sure you do, taking care of whatever’s weighing on you.

He’s always in your corner, even if he doesn’t always say it outright.

Light NSFW: His support extends to everything, including this. If you’re feeling insecure? He won’t brush it off—he’ll show you exactly how much he wants you, no hesitation. “You’re a goddam perfect. That’s all that matters.”

T – Trust

SFW: Trust is everything to Kick. He doesn’t trust easily, and he doesn’t give it freely. But once he does? It’s unshakable. If he’s with you, it means he trusts you—fully, completely.

He doesn’t need constant reassurances. If he trusts you, he trusts you.

He won’t lie to you, won’t sugarcoat things. If you ask for the truth, you get the truth.

If you ever break that trust? It won’t be an explosion—it’ll be quiet. Cold. And final.

He expects the same in return—if you don’t trust him, it won’t work.

Light NSFW: Trust plays a huge role in intimacy for him. If he trusts you, he lets his guard down, becomes softer in ways no one else gets to see. It’s in the way he lets you touch him, in how he lets go when he’s with you.

U – Understanding

SFW: Kick isn’t the type to push for explanations when you’re not ready to talk. If you need space, he gives it. If you need time, he waits. He’s observant—he can tell when something’s off, but he won’t force you to spill your feelings. Instead, he’ll let you come to him when you’re ready.

If you have a bad day and don’t want to talk? He just exists beside you—silent company, steady presence.

If you mess up? He won’t hold it over you. He understands that everyone screws up sometimes.

He’s not overly emotional, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get emotions. He just processes things differently, and he gives you room to do the same.

Light NSFW: He’s perceptive in every way, which means he learns you—what you like, what makes you tick. He doesn’t need you to say everything out loud; he figures some of me out and uses that understanding to drive you absolutely wild.

V – Vulnerability

SFW: If Kick is vulnerable with you, it’s serious. It's literally another story, He’s not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. It takes time for him to open up, but when he does? It’s rare—and it’s real.

You’re the only one who gets to see him tired, frustrated, or uncertain.

If he lets you comfort him? That’s a huge deal. He trusts you enough to lean on you, and that means everything, because since his job was so pressure on him he never had a one to reassure him everything is okay, so now you opened a new kick.

Sometimes, his vulnerability isn’t in words—it’s in letting you be close when he’s feeling worn down, seeing him in this statement, when he is at the loss of words how to tell he is not feeling good he will show his weaknesses with no shame at all.

Light NSFW: This applies to intimacy, too. It’s not just physical for him—it’s personal. If he lets you see him like that, it’s because he wants you to see all of him, not just the hardened soldier.

W – Warmth

SFW: He might not be the softest person in the world, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t warm in his own way. His warmth isn’t loud—it’s quiet, steady, constant.

The way he hands you a cup of coffee/tea without a word, already made exactly how you like it.

The way he would try to cook for you, both of you knowing damn well he sucks and ends up you helping him.

The way he knows when you need comfort, even when you don’t ask for it.

Light NSFW: His warmth is physical, too. His body heat is insane—if you’re cold, he’ll just pull you against him with zero hesitation. And in more intimate moments? Let’s just say, that warmth turns into heat.

X – XO (Hugs & Kisses)

SFW: Kick’s not that super affectionate in public, but when it’s just the two of you? Different story.

His hugs are solid—not soft, but firm, secure, grounding.

Kisses? He’s purposeful about them. He gives them whenever you want to or he want to and adore you—when he kisses you, it means everything to him.

Light NSFW: Slow. Intense. He’s not one for rushed, frantic affection—he takes his time, makes sure you feel it. And once he’s in the mood? Yeah, good luck walking straight afterward (what an odd (cringy) thing to say😍)

Y – Yearning

SFW: Kick doesn’t pine—he wants, and he waits. He’s disciplined enough to keep his feelings in check, but when he’s away on missions, you’re always on his mind.

He always flood you with texts, and the ones he does send? They matter.

He’ll quietly hold onto something small that reminds him of you—a photo, a note, something personal.

He don't do it so much but sometimes he Finds himself talking unconsciously talking about you or anything remind him of you he just goes with "Oh yeah Y/n----" says with a smile on his face a warm one.

The first thing he does when he’s back? Find you. Always.

Light NSFW: When he wants you, he wants you. No hesitation, no uncertainty. He doesn’t just miss you—he craves you. And when he gets back? You’re his for the night. Period.

Z – Zeal

SFW: Kick doesn’t do things halfway. If he’s with you, he’s all in.

He’ll push you to be your best, not because he thinks you need to change, but because he believes in you.

If someone disrespects you? They’re done. No debate, no second chances.

He’s not the loudest person in the room, but when it comes to you, he’s unshakable.

Light NSFW: His intensity applies everywhere—especially when it comes to showing you exactly how much he wants you. He doesn’t just go through the motions—he devours you, like he’s making up for lost time.

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

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

Relationship Alphabet series with Cod ghosts!

Keegan Russ

✧ Pairing: Romantic. ✧ Genre: Fluff.

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

A – Affection

Keegan isn’t one for public displays of affection, but in private, he’s a different man. His affection is quiet but meaningful, shown through small gestures like brushing his fingers against yours when no one’s looking or a firm hand on your lower back when walking together, Love it when you sit on his lap, doing nothing but resting his head on ur back after a long day.

He expresses love through acts of service—bringing you coffee/drink/tea just the way you like it, pulling you closer under the covers at night, or standing protectively between you and a potential threat.

Light NSFW: In intimacy, Keegan’s affection is intense but controlled. His kisses are slow and deep, his hands firm yet careful as they explore your body. He won’t say much, but the way he moves, the way he holds you, makes it undeniably clear how much he cares.

"You feel so good." His voice is husky, lips trailing over your Skin, taking his time with every touch.

B – Boundaries

Keegan is big on boundaries, both his own and yours. He values personal space and isn’t the type to be overly clingy. If you need time alone, he gets it. If he needs a moment to clear his head, he expects the same in return.

He’s also protective of you but never possessive. He trusts you completely and won’t ever try to control you. However, if he senses something or someone is dangerous, expect him to step in with a silent but deadly presence.

Light NSFW: In the bedroom, Keegan respects boundaries immensely. He’s a careful, attentive lover, always making sure you’re comfortable. He won’t push you into anything you’re unsure of and expects the same respect in return.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart and I’ll give it to you."

C – Communication

Keegan isn’t a man of many words, but when he does speak, he means every word. He’s a good listener and pays attention to the little details. He may not always say “I love you”, but he shows it in ways that speak louder than words.

If something’s bothering him, he won’t shut you out completely, but he’ll take time to process before opening up. He prefers to talk when things calm down, rather than in the heat of the moment.

"I’m not ignoring you. Just... give me a minute."

Light NSFW: Keegan is into talking dirty—he prefers low whispers against your ear, deep breaths, and the occasional groan that tells you everything you need to know. But if you push him, he’ll break, and when he does, his words come out rough and raw, he just has no idea what you are doing to him.

D – Devotion

If Keegan loves you, it’s for life. His devotion isn’t flashy—it’s steady, unwavering, and unshakable. He won’t fall in love easily, but once he does, he’s all in. No hesitation.

He’ll always have your back, no matter what. If you’re in trouble, he’ll drop everything to be there. And if someone hurts you? They’ll have to deal with Keegan Russ in full Ghost mode, and trust me—that’s not a good thing.

Light NSFW: In intimacy, his devotion translates into attention to detail. He’s focused on you—your sounds, your breathing, every movement. He takes his time, making sure every touch, every moment, is memorable.

E – Empathy

Keegan might seem cold and distant, but he’s surprisingly intuitive when it comes to your emotions. He notices the small things—the way your breathing changes, the tension in your shoulders, the subtle way your voice wavers.

He doesn’t push you to talk, but he lets you know he’s there. If you need comfort, he’ll silently pull you into a hug or sit beside you in quiet understanding.

"I don’t know what to say love... but I’m here. That’s not changing."

Light NSFW: Keegan’s empathy extends to intimacy as well. He’s a patient, observant lover, ensuring that he’s not just taking, but giving just as much. He’s aware of what you need and won’t stop until he knows you’re completely satisfied.

"Relax. Let me get it done."

F – Forgiveness

Keegan doesn’t hold grudges, he’s so quick to forgive either, It's like yall get into argument then him out of nowhere after hours come back and talk to you like nothing happened. he just doesn't care about these small issues, he lets them slide easily. But if you break his trust? That’s another story.

It takes time for him to fully forgive, but if he sees genuine effort, he will try. However, if someone betrays him beyond repair, they’re dead to him—simple as that.

"I won’t pretend it didn’t happen, kid."

Light NSFW: In intimacy, if there’s ever a misunderstanding or tension, Keegan prefers to work through it slowly he is a controlled man. He’s not one to jump right into bed after an argument—he needs to feel connected again before anything physical happens, but he couldn't help it with the way his body rise up with heated feelings.

G – Growth

Keegan doesn’t just stay the same—he evolves, and he expects the same from his partner. He’s not afraid of change, but he values stability.

At the beginning of the relationship, he’s reserved and keeps his emotions close to his chest, but over time, he starts letting you in, showing you parts of himself no one else gets to see.

If you're struggling with something, he won’t fix it for you, but he’ll push you to be stronger. He doesn’t coddle—he believes in you too much for that, he believes he should get a strong partner in his life.

Light NSFW: In intimacy, Keegan learns your body over time. Every experience with him is better than the last because he takes note of what makes you shiver, gasp, melt—and he uses it against you.

"You like that, don’t you? Thought so."

H – Honesty

Keegan is brutally honest— yeah with everyone around sometimes too much. but with his beloved partner, If you ask him for his opinion, be ready for the truth, because he won’t sugarcoat it.

He doesn’t believe in mind games or passive aggression. If something’s wrong, he’ll say it outright. If you mess up, he’ll call you out but teasing for to get a madness from you, and he expects you to do the same for him, and honestly he is all for someone honest with him.

Light NSFW: Keegan is into the-top dirty talk, and when he does speak, it’s low, direct, and intense—his honesty carries into the bedroom, and when if you ever do the same with him, He is all down bad for it, he already lost and forgot what he wanted to do with you.

"Damn love, who taught you how to talk like that?" Yes he needs to know the secret.

I – Intimacy

Keegan’s version of intimacy isn’t just physical—it’s trust, understanding, and the feeling of home.

Physical intimacy with him is slow and intense—he’s the type to take his time, memorize every part of you, and make sure you feel everything. But emotional intimacy? That’s something he guards fiercely.

"You’re the only one I let this close. Don’t think I don’t know how much that means."

He’ll let you in bit by bit, sharing the past he rarely speaks about, the fears he never voices. And when he finally does? That’s when you know he’s all in.

Light NSFW: Keegan is all about connection—he wants to feel you, not just physically, but emotionally. He’s focused, intense, and unrelenting when it comes to pleasure.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart."

J – Joy

Keegan’s sense of joy is subtle but real. He’s not loud or dramatic about it, but when he’s happy, you can see it in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth twitch when you tease him, the rare smirk he gives when he’s feeling particularly amused.

He enjoys simple things—a night drive with you [be safe✌🏻], the sound of rain on the roof, the peace that comes with just existing together.

He’s got a dry, deadpan sense of humor, so if you can match that? You’ll have him hooked.

"You really think that’s funny?" He says with a completely straight face... before finally breaking into a small chuckle.

Light NSFW: Keegan might not laugh during intimacy, but he loves seeing you flustered. If teasing you makes you squirm? He’ll absolutely do it.

"Look at you. So desperate already?"

K – Kindness

Keegan isn’t soft, but he’s good. His kindness is quiet, strong, and unwavering.

He won’t baby you, but he’ll always have your back. If you're having a bad day, he won’t say much—instead, he'll bring you coffee/tea/drink, sit next to you in silence, or press a warm, reassuring kiss to your temple.

He’s gentle in his own way—steady hands on your waist, the way he pulls you close in his sleep, the way he waits for you when you need time to process your emotions.

Light NSFW: Keegan is gentle yet firm in intimacy—his kindness shows in the way he takes his time, making sure you feel safe and wanted.

"I’ve got you. Just let go."

L – Love

Keegan doesn’t fall easily, but when he does, it’s permanent. His love is deep, unwavering, and incredibly strong—a pillar you can always lean on.

He won’t be overly romantic, but you’ll feel it in every touch, every glance, every quiet act of devotion. He’s the type to stay up watching you sleep after a nightmare, to hold your hand out of nowhere and give it a kiss, to kiss you slow and deep like it’s the last time, every time.

"Christ, got any idea how much you mean to me?"

And when he finally says “I love you”? You know it’s real, because he doesn’t throw those words around lightly.

Light NSFW: When Keegan loves, he makes sure you know it—with his hands, his lips, his body, his everything.

M – Memories

Keegan holds onto memories tightly, even if he doesn’t talk about them much. His mind is like a vault, storing every little moment with you—whether it’s the way you laugh, how you take yourself always, or the exact tone of your voice when you tease him.

He isn’t the type to take constant pictures, but he keeps small mementos—your handwriting on a sticky note, a pressed flower from a trip you took together, even a stupid inside joke scrawled on a bar napkin.

If you ever doubt if he cherishes your time together, just know: he does. He always does.

N – Nurturing

Keegan isn’t openly coddling, but his way of nurturing comes through in protective instincts and subtle care. If you’re sick, he won’t smother you, but you’ll suddenly find water, medicine, and a warm blanket within reach. If you’re exhausted, he’ll just tug you into his arms and let you rest against him without saying a word.

"Go to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up."

And if you ever break down, he won’t ask questions. He’ll just pull you close, hand steady on your back, heartbeat solid against your ear.

"I got you."

O – Openness

Keegan isn’t naturally open, and that’s the hardest part of being with him. At first, he bottles everything up—he thinks his burdens are his alone to carry.

But over time, he learns that being open with you doesn’t make him "weak". It’s not easy for him, but if you patiently wait, you’ll see him start to unravel in small ways—a hand gripping yours a little tighter, a quiet admission at 2 AM when the world is still.

When he finally trusts you enough to let you in, that’s when you know he’s truly yours.

P – Patience

Keegan is stoic, disciplined, and controlled, but when it comes to you? His patience is infinite.

Whether it’s helping you through something difficult, waiting for you to open up, or calming you down after a bad day, he never rushes you.

"Take your time. I’m not going anywhere."

And if you’re stubborn or having an off day, he doesn’t push. He just stays close, offering his silent presence until you’re ready.

Light NSFW: His patience extends to the bedroom, too. He’s the type to drag things out, savoring every reaction, making sure you feel everything.

"I can do this all night."

Q – Quality Time

Keegan doesn’t care for fancy dates or extravagant plans— Yeah he will go with you for whenever you want but his idea of quality time is just being with you.

He loves the quiet moments—long drives at night, sitting on the rooftop watching the city lights, lying in bed with you, tracing circles on your back just going deep in his thoughts breathing in and out.

"You don’t have to do anything special. Just be here."

His love language is undistracted presence—when he’s with you, he’s fully with you. No phone, no distractions, just you and him, existing in the same space.

R – Respect

Keegan doesn’t take respect lightly. He won’t tolerate being disrespected, and he sure as hell won’t do it to you.

He values your opinions, your choices, your independence. He’ll challenge you, push you to be better, but he’ll never undermine you.

"You’re strong. I knew that the first time I saw you."

If someone crosses the line with you? Keegan won’t lose his temper, but the danger in his eyes will say enough, He is already there throwing hands perhaps.

S – Support

Keegan isn’t the cheerleader type, but his support is unshakable.

If you have a goal? He’ll push you towards it. If you’re struggling? He’ll stand by your side. If you doubt yourself? He won’t even let you start to do it.

"Hey You’re more though than you think. I see it, even if you don’t."

His support isn’t loud—it’s steady. A reassuring touch on your back, a quiet “I believe in you,” a subtle nod when you need it most.

T – Trust

For Keegan, trust is earned, not given. It takes time, but once you have it, he’s all in.

He trusts you with his life, his emotions, his everything. But if you break that trust? It’s almost impossible to rebuild.

"If I trust you, it’s because you’ve won it. Don’t take that softly."

But when he loves you, he trusts you completely—his heart, his body, his soul. He lets himself be vulnerable in ways no one else sees.

Light NSFW: In intimacy, trust is everything to him. He wants to know that you trust him just as much as he trusts you, He trusts you enough that you saw beneath his clothes and the moments you share. together.

"Let go. I’ve got you."

U – Understanding

Keegan is a man of few words, but he understands you better than you might realize. He’s good at reading people, catching onto small details others overlook.

If you’re having a bad day, he won’t ask a million questions—he’ll just hand your favorite snacks, pull you into his arms, and let you breathe.

"You Gonna tell me what happened, love?."

He knows that sometimes, you need space. Other times, you need him to just be there. He never pressures you to talk but will always be ready to listen.

V – Vulnerability

This is the hardest thing for Keegan. He’s spent years keeping his emotions in check, believing that showing weakness could cost lives.

At first, he’s walled off, refusing to let you see the weight he carries. But as time goes on, you’ll see cracks in his armor—soft confessions at night, small glimpses of the man behind the soldier.

The first time he opens up to you, it’s raw and real—not dramatic, not forced, just genuine honesty. And after that? He’ll trust you with parts of himself he never shows anyone else.

W – Warmth

Keegan isn’t sunshine and rainbows, but his love is steady and strong. His warmth comes in silent gestures—a calloused hand brushing your cheek, an arm around your waist as you sleep, the way he always makes sure you’re safe.

"You cold? C’mere."

He isn’t cuddly in public, but behind closed doors, he’ll pull you into his lap, press a slow kiss to your temple, and let you melt into him.

Light NSFW:

He runs warm, and you’ll always notice it at night—his body heat wrapping around you, his breath against your ear as he holds you close.

"You feel good against me, sweetheart."

X – XO (Hugs & Kisses)

Keegan isn’t overly affectionate, but when he wants to touch you, he makes it count.

His hugs are rare but meaningful—a strong arm around your waist, a firm grip on your shoulder, a brief but lingering squeeze before he lets go.

"Goddamit, you mean everything to me."

His kisses are intense—slow, deep, and makeout sessions full of big passion. and for teasing? He’s the type to tilt your chin up, letting his lips brush over yours until you’re practically begging him to kiss you.

"You want more? Say it."'

Y – Yearning

Keegan isn’t the type to voice his longing outright, but you can see it in his eyes, in the way he watches you, in the tension in his shoulders when you’re apart.

If he is gone for a mission, he won’t spam your phone with messages—he’ll just send one text:

"Stay safe. will Come back to you."

When he misses you, you’ll feel it in the way he holds you after you return—his grip a little tighter, his voice softer, the way he just rests his forehead against yours in silence.

Light NSFW: When he’s been away too long? Expect his hands to be greedy, his lips demanding on yours, his voice low and rough in your ear.

"You have no idea how much I fucking missed you."

Z – Zeal

Keegan might seem quiet, but when he loves someone, he loves them with everything he has, And he is questioning himself how this happened or passed him.

He’s devoted, intense, and unwavering—his passion doesn’t burn bright and fleeting, it smolders like an ember, lasting forever.

"You were never a choice to me...I don't get on loveing that easy"

His zeal for you isn’t just in words, but in actions—how he watches your back, how he protects you, how he chooses you over and over again.

Light NSFW: When he’s focused on you, he’s all in. His passion isn’t rushed—it’s deliberate, consuming, leaving you breathless under his touch.

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

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

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

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

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

Relationship Alphabet series with Cod ghosts!

Logan walker

✧ Pairing: Romantic. ✧ Genre: Fluff.

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

A – Affection

Logan isn’t the most outwardly affectionate person, but when he loves, he loves hard. His touches are subtle but deeply meaningful—hand on your lower back as you walk, fingers grazing yours before he holds your hand, a quick squeeze on your thigh when you sit next to him.

His favorite form of affection? Forehead touches. It’s his way of grounding himself, closing his eyes for a second, and just feeling you there. After a long mission, expect him to just press his forehead to yours and sigh, finally allowing himself to relax.

Light NSFW: Logan’s brand of affection can turn intense fast. It starts with lazy kisses, slow and teasing, before his hands move—gripping your waist, pulling you closer, letting you feel just how much he missed you. He loves dragging his lips down your jaw, murmuring "Mine." against your skin.

B – Boundaries

Logan has firm boundaries, but it’s mostly because of his lifestyle. He’s trained himself to keep emotions in check during missions, and he doesn’t always talk about the things he’s been through.

However, he respects boundaries just as much as he sets them. If you need space, he gives it without question. He might not always know the right words to comfort you, but he’s always there. Sitting beside you in silence, a steady presence.

Light NSFW: While Logan is pretty private, he does have one rule—when he’s in the moment, it’s just the two of you. He hates distractions, hates anything pulling his focus away from you. If you try to tease him with a playful comment while he’s all over you? His grip tightens. "Eyes on me, sweetheart."

C – Communication

Logan isn’t a talker, but he listens better than anyone. He picks up on your emotions before you even say a word, adjusting himself accordingly—if you’re stressed, he’s pulling you into his arms; if you’re mad, he’s giving you space before asking "Wanna talk about it?"

That being said, getting Logan to talk about his own feelings is like pulling teeth. He’d rather show you than say it. When he does open up, it’s usually at night, in the dark, when it’s just the two of you and there’s no pressure.

Light NSFW: Logan doesn’t talk much during intimate moments, but when he does? It’s deep, raspy, and straight to the point. He’s all about action, letting his hands and lips speak for him—but every once in a while, you’ll get a low, "You feel so damn good, baby." whispered against your skin.

D – Devotion

Logan is unshakably devoted. Once you have him, you have him. There’s no half-measures—he’s all in, fiercely protective, always looking out for you even when you don’t realize it.

If you ever doubt his feelings, just look at his actions. He’s the guy who remembers the little things—how you like your coffee, your favorite songs, the exact way you like to be held when you’re upset.

Light NSFW: His devotion carries over into the bedroom. Logan isn’t selfish—he’s focused on you, taking his time, memorizing every reaction. He takes pride in knowing exactly what makes you shudder under his touch, whispering, "Let me take care of you."

E – Empathy

Logan might be quiet, but he feels things deeply. He understands pain, loss, and the weight of things left unsaid. It’s why he’s so gentle with you, even if he’s rough with the rest of the world.

He can tell when you’re holding back emotions, and while he won’t push, he’ll make sure you know he’s there. If you’re upset, he won’t flood you with questions—he’ll just sit beside you, wrap an arm around you, and let you lean into him.

Light NSFW: Logan is in tune with your body. He’s perceptive, catching every little hitch in your breath, every tremble. He watches, listens, adjusts—making sure you’re enjoying every second. And if you’re feeling particularly vulnerable? He’ll slow down, pressing his forehead to yours and murmuring, "I got you, baby."

F – Forgiveness

Logan doesn’t hold grudges, but he doesn’t forget either. If you hurt him, he needs time. He won’t lash out, but he’ll go quiet, processing everything internally.

That being said, he doesn’t stay mad forever. He knows nobody’s perfect, and as long as you’re honest with him, he’ll always work things out. He’s not the type to bring up old arguments—once he forgives, it’s done.

Light NSFW: If you’ve had an argument but made up, Logan’s version of making up is intense. He doesn’t say much—he just pulls you in, kisses you like he’s making up for lost time, and reminds you exactly how much you mean to him without a single word.

G – Growth

Logan isn’t the same man he was before he met you. He’s spent so much of his life as a soldier—his purpose was always about the mission, never about himself. But with you? He’s learned how to live, not just survive.

It takes him a while to open up, to let himself be vulnerable, but he does it because of you. You push him in all the right ways, and he silently thanks you for it every day.

Light NSFW: Logan used to think intimacy was just about physical connection, but he’s learned there’s so much more to it. He grows with you—learning what you like, adjusting, making sure that every time feels better than the last. "Tell me what you need, baby." he murmurs, fingers tracing slow patterns on your skin.

H – Honesty

Logan is a terrible liar. He doesn’t sugarcoat things, doesn’t play games—if he says something, he means it. If he doesn’t like something, he won’t pretend otherwise.

But when it comes to emotions? That’s different. He struggles to express them, to admit when he’s feeling off. He’s still learning that it’s okay to talk about the things weighing on his mind—but with you, he’s trying.

Light NSFW: Logan is honest about what he wants. He’s not one for flowery words or elaborate speeches, but when he looks at you with half gazed eyes and says, "Need you right now." you know he means it.

I – Intimacy

For Logan, intimacy isn’t just about physical closeness—it’s about trust. He shows his love in quiet ways: resting his head in your lap after a long day, tracing slow circles on your skin as you lay beside him, whispering your name in the dead of night.

There’s something sacred about being close to you, something grounding. It’s the only time he can truly let his guard down.

Light NSFW: Logan doesn’t rush intimacy. He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every whispered breath. He watches you more than anything, memorizing the way your body moves under his touch. Intimacy with Logan isn’t just physical—it’s a promise.

J – Joy

Happiness sneaks up on Logan when he’s with you. It’s in the little things—the way you laugh at his deadpan jokes, the way you reach for his hand absentmindedly, the way your presence makes the world feel a little less heavy.

His joy is quiet but deep. It’s in the rare moments where he smiles, where he presses a kiss to your forehead and mutters, "Didn’t think I could have this."

Light NSFW: Logan’s joy in intimacy comes from you—watching your reactions, feeling your body relax under him, knowing that he’s the reason for your pleasure. He finds an almost smug satisfaction in pulling soft gasps from your lips, murmuring, "That’s it, baby. Let go."

K – Kindness

Logan isn’t overly affectionate, but his kindness speaks through his actions. He doesn’t always say "I love you," but you can see it in the way he makes sure you eat, the way he tucks a blanket around you when you fall asleep, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter when he feels like something’s wrong.

He’s gentle with you in a way he isn’t with anyone else. The world has hardened him, but with you? He softens—just a little.

Light NSFW: Even when he’s rough, there’s a tenderness in the way Logan touches you. He never takes more than you’re willing to give, never pushes too far. His kindness carries into every intimate moment—checking in, making sure you feel safe, whispering reassurance between kisses.

L – Love

Logan loves deeply, completely, permanently. He doesn’t fall easily, but when he does, it’s all or nothing.

His love is loyalty—standing by your side through everything. His love is trust—letting you see parts of him no one else gets to. His love is forever—even if he doesn’t always say the words, you know.

Light NSFW: Love with Logan is slow, deliberate, consuming. He doesn’t just want you—he wants every part of you, every sigh, every whispered moan, every ounce of trust. "Be mine, please..." he murmurs against your lips, not as a demand, but as a promise.

M – Memories

Logan holds onto memories like old photographs—silent, but deeply treasured. He’s not the type to talk much about the past, but he remembers everything.

The first time you made him laugh so hard he had to look away. The way your eyes lit up when he gave you something small but meaningful. The moment he realized he was in love with you, staring at you when you weren’t looking, thinking, God, I’m in trouble.

Light NSFW: Some of his favorite memories? The way you whispered his name in the dark, breathless and wanting. The look in your eyes when he had you pinned beneath him. The way you fell asleep tangled in him, completely trusting. Those memories replay in his mind more than he’d ever admit.

N – Nurturing

Logan might not be overly affectionate, but he takes care of you in ways you don’t always notice. He makes sure you eat, gets you water without you asking, pulls you against him when he feels you shiver.

If you’re sick or hurt, he’s silently hovering—doesn’t fuss, doesn’t baby you, but he’s right there. Holding your hand, rubbing slow circles into your back, making sure you feel safe.

Light NSFW: Nurturing carries over into intimacy—Logan takes his time, always attuned to what you need. If you’re stressed, he makes it slow and comforting. If you’re aching for him, he meets you where you are. He reads you like a book, and he’s always willing to give.

O – Openness

It takes Logan a long time to open up. Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he’s spent his whole life keeping things locked away.

But the more he loves you, the more he tries. He won’t always have the words, but he’ll show you in the way he grips your hand just a little tighter, in the way he pulls you close at night, in the way he whispers a quiet "Don’t go anywhere, okay?" when he’s half-asleep.

Light NSFW: Openness is harder for him here—he's used to staying in control. But when he lets go, when he trusts you completely? It’s different. He tells you what he wants, tells you how good you make him feel. And if you ever whisper something soft and intimate in return, he’ll never forget it.

P – Patience

Logan is patient, but in a quiet way. He doesn’t rush things, doesn’t push—you take your time with him, and he lets you.

If you’re upset, he doesn’t demand answers. He waits. If you’re struggling, he doesn’t offer empty words—he shows you he’s there, steady and unwavering.

Light NSFW: His patience extends into intimacy—he takes his time, savoring every little reaction, every sound you make. He’s in no hurry. He’ll tease, pull back, make you beg if he wants to—because Logan knows that waiting makes everything that much better.

Q – Quality time

Logan isn’t big on grand gestures—his love is in the small moments. Sitting on the couch in silence, driving in comfortable quiet, watching you sleep just because he likes the way you breathe next to him.

He prefers one-on-one time over anything else. No distractions, just you and him. That’s when he feels most at peace.

Light NSFW: Logan likes to take his time. Quality time in intimacy means making every second count—pulling you onto his lap, tracing slow patterns on your back, watching you with darkened eyes. He’s not the type to rush—he wants to enjoy every single second of you.

R – Respect

Logan respects everything about you—your choices, your independence, your emotions. He might be protective, but he never tries to control you. If you say no to something, he listens.

If someone else disrespects you? That’s a different story. Logan doesn’t yell, doesn’t make a scene—but there’s something dangerous in the way his jaw tightens, in the way he stands just a little taller.

Light NSFW: Respect carries over into the bedroom. He doesn’t assume, doesn’t take—he asks, listens, watches. Your pleasure matters just as much as his, and he never crosses a line. "Tell me if you want me to stop." he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin.

S – Support

Logan isn’t great with words, but his support is unwavering. If you have a goal, he’s right there—helping, encouraging, believing in you more than you believe in yourself.

If you ever break down, he doesn’t panic—he just holds you. No forced words, no pressure—just quiet, solid support.

Light NSFW: Support, for him, is about giving. He’s focused on you, making sure you feel wanted, cherished, taken care of. He watches your every reaction, adjusting, always making sure you’re taken care of first.

T – Trust

Logan doesn’t trust easily—but when he does, it’s forever. He doesn’t just let anyone in, doesn’t just rely on people, but with you? He does. He trusts you with his fears, his love, his life. He might not say it out loud, but he proves it every single day. Light NSFW: Trust in intimacy means complete surrender. Letting you see every inch of him, letting you touch him in ways no one else has. And if he ever whispers, "I trust you." in the middle of everything—you know just how much it means.

U – Understanding

Logan might be quiet, but he’s deeply observant. He picks up on the little things—your moods, your small habits, the things you don’t say out loud.

He understands when you need space, when you need comfort, when you just need to sit in silence together. If you’re struggling, he won’t push—but he’ll be there.

If you ever argue, he doesn’t get defensive or angry—he listens. He might not be the best with words, but he’ll try to see things from your side. "I get it," he’ll say, voice low but sincere. "I’ll do better." And he means it.

Light NSFW: Logan understands your needs without you having to say much. He watches, he listens, he feels. He knows when to take things slow, when to be rough, when to hold back. If something doesn’t feel right, he stops immediately—because at the end of the day, your comfort matters most.

V – Vulnerability

Logan doesn’t let people in easily. He’s spent too long keeping things bottled up, carrying burdens on his own.

But with you? It’s different.

You see the parts of him no one else does—the quiet fears, the sleepless nights, the weight he carries. He won’t cry in front of most people, but with you, he might. And if he does, he trusts you enough to let it happen.

"I don’t… talk about this stuff," he mutters one night, staring at the ceiling, your fingers tracing slow circles on his chest. "But I want you to know."

Light NSFW: Vulnerability in intimacy means trusting you completely. Letting his guard down, letting you see him undone. He’s used to being in control, but when he trusts you enough to surrender—to let you take the lead, to let himself be soft—that’s when you know how deep his love runs.

W – Warmth

Logan isn’t openly affectionate in public, but when it’s just the two of you? God, he’s warm.

He’s a silent protector—pulling you against him without a word, tucking you beneath his chin, resting a hand on your back whenever he walks past. He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but the way he holds you, the way he breathes a little easier when you’re close—that’s love.

If you ever shiver, he’s already pulling you into his jacket. If you’re sad, he presses a slow kiss to the top of your head, lingering, silent, but solid.

Light NSFW: His warmth in intimacy is overwhelming. He’s all-consuming, pressing into you, heat radiating from his skin. Even after everything, he doesn’t let you go right away—he stays close, fingers lazily tracing your back, murmuring soft, unspoken affections against your skin.

X – XO (hugs & kisses)

Logan’s kisses are slow, deep, meaningful. He doesn’t rush them, doesn’t take them for granted. If he kisses you, he means it.

He loves forehead kisses—a silent I’m here. He kisses your knuckles without thinking, absentminded and affectionate. He pulls you close by your waist, pressing his lips against your temple after a long day.

Hugs? He holds you like he’ll never let go. Strong arms wrapped around you, solid and steady. He buries his face in your neck sometimes, just breathing you in. And if he’s been away for too long? He’ll pull you into him, grip tight, heartbeat steadying against yours.

Light NSFW: His kisses become desperate when he’s craving you. Rough, deep, needy. He kisses like he’s starving for you, like he can’t get close enough. And when he finally pulls away, lips slightly swollen, eyes dark? God help you.

Y – Yearning

Logan isn’t dramatic about his feelings, but God, does he miss you when you’re not around.

He won’t say it outright, but it’s in the way he keeps checking his phone, the way his fingers twitch when you’re not there to hold them. The way he breathes just a little deeper when he finally sees you again.

He doesn’t send long texts, but he’ll send things like: "You okay?" "Miss you." "Be home soon."

And when he finally is home? The first thing he does is find you.

Light NSFW: The longer he’s away, the more desperate he is when he returns. He doesn’t even bother with words—he just grabs you, pulls you in, takes what he’s been missing. There’s a hunger in him, a need that only you can satisfy.

Z – Zeal

Logan’s love isn’t loud or flashy—but it’s fierce.

He loves fully, deeply, endlessly. When he’s with you, there’s no hesitation—he’s all in. He shows his love in every little action, in every glance, in every quiet, steady presence.

If someone ever tries to hurt you? God help them. Logan doesn’t lose his temper often, but when it comes to you? He doesn’t hold back.

And when he tells you he loves you? It’s forever.

Light NSFW: His passion in intimacy is undeniable. He wants you, adores you, worships you. He doesn’t just go through the motions—he’s dedicated to you, body and soul. Every touch, every kiss, every breath—it’s all for you.

Because Logan Walker? He doesn’t love halfway.

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

Male teammate reader realizing that he is seeing elias as a father figure😔

When elias of course was caring but he saw that beneath his stoic personality

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

Elias as a Stern but Caring Father Figure X Male Teammate Reader

Notes: getting shot, mention of the hollow feelings!

Elias Walker isn’t a man who gives out praise easily. He’s disciplined, tough, and expects nothing less than the best from his soldiers. But under that hardened exterior is a leader who truly looks out for his men, even if it means showing it in his own quiet, firm way.

Breaking Up a Fight

The tension in the squadroom was thick. You and another Ghost had been angry—something about conflicting orders, a missed extraction point, and heated words escalating into a full-blown argument. By the time Elias stepped in, you had your fists clenched, jaw tight, and were about to throw a punch.

Elias’ voice cut through the room like a gunshot.

"Enough! both of you!"

The entire squad went silent. Elias didn’t yell—he never needed to. His tone alone held weight, commanding immediate respect. He stepped between them, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it clear he wasn’t playing around.

"You feel like fighting? You take it to the ring. But I better not catch my soldiers throwing punches like a couple of undisciplined rookies. Understood?"

“Tell me what happened.”

It was an order. But Elias wasn’t just here to discipline—he wanted to understand.

After you finished explaining, Elias studied you with that sharp, unreadable gaze. The other soldier just stared, silent, waiting. But Elias cut through the tension with a firm voice.

"You're frustrated. Good. That means you care. But losing your temper? That’s how you lose respect. Next time, think before you act like a meniac."

His words landed like a weight in the air—heavy, undeniable. Then, without another glance, he turned and left.

The soldier beside you muttered a curse and stalked off, but you stood frozen. Something inside you shifted, a flicker in your chest, like an ember catching flame.

Noticing Exhaustion

After days of relentless training, grueling missions, and barely any sleep, you were running on fumes. your movements were slower, your focus slightly off—things only a trained eye would notice. But Elias saw it.

During a weapons check, you fumbled with your rifle, dropping the magazine with a sharp clatter. The room went silent. cursed under your breath, bending down to grab it, but before you could, a pair of boots stopped right in front of you.

Elias.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stared down at you, arms on his hips. The weight of that silence was almost worse than being yelled at.

"How many hours of sleep have you had?"

You hesitated. "Enough, sir."

Elias arched an eyebrow. "That so? Because last I checked, ‘enough’ doesn’t leave you this sloppy." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I’m not running my people into the ground. You’re no good to me half-dead, so you’re taking the next twelve hours to get some damn rest. That’s an order."

You opened your mouth to protest "Sir" Elias cut you off. "Say one more word, and I’ll make it twenty-four. Now go."

It wasn’t kindness. It wasn’t pity. It was an order—one laced with a concern he’d never admit out loud.

The Realization:

It wasn’t an immediate thing—realizing that Elias was more than just a commanding person.

You had been under his leadership for years, and it had always been about discipline, orders, and the mission.

But somewhere along the way, those orders started sounding less like a commander barking at a subordinate and more like a father looking after his own.

It was in the way Elias noticed the little things—when you were exhausted, when you were unfocused, when you were pushing yourself too damn hard.

You had spent so long looking for approval, for recognition, and for a while, you thought Elias was just another hardass CO who expected perfection.

But Elias wasn’t just tough—he cared. Not in a soft way, not in a way that he would ever admit outright, but in the only way a hardened soldier knew how.

It wasn’t something you liked to admit—not even to yourself.

You never thought much about family. Not really. Life had been about survival, about moving forward, about being a soldier first and a person second. But sometimes… sometimes, that hollow feeling crept in when you least expected it.

Like now.

You sat a few feet away, absently cleaning your rifle, when you saw them—Elias and his sons, Logan and Hesh, talking like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You weren’t eavesdropping. Not really. But you couldn’t help listening.

"You two are getting sloppy," Elias muttered, arms crossed. "Hesh, your stance was too open. Logan, you hesitated at the last second."

The words were sharp, but there was something else beneath them—something steady, something certain. A father speaking to his sons, knowing they would listen and believed in them.

"C’mon, Dad, we still completed the drill," Hesh chuckled, a small, barely-there grin on his face.

Elias let out a short huff of laughter. "Barely."

Logan and Hesh kept talking, their words easy, their smiles unguarded. Elias listened, shaking his head but smiling all the same.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, pretending to focus on your rifle, but your fingers tightened around the weapon.

It was normal. Family banter. Criticism softened by familiarity. A father’s voice carrying weight but never pressing too hard.

It was natural.

And you felt like a stranger watching through a window.

You told yourself it was stupid.

You were part of the team. You had earned your place. Elias respected you. The others had your back.

But no matter how many times you drilled that into your skull, there were moments that made you feel like an outsider.

Like the way Hesh could roll his eyes when Elias reminded them that they only had each other—and still, Elias would stop, give him a look, half stern, half concerned, before offering a small, knowing smile. You had cursed Hesh and logan under your breath more than once, thinking how damn lucky they were to have a father like Elias.

Like the way Logan barely had to speak, yet Elias always understood him anyway.

And maybe that was what made the hollow feeling worse.

Because Elias was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father.

But he wasn’t even related to you.

Not Just Another Soldier

The mission was supposed to be clean—get in, secure intel, get out. But things went to hell fast. The enemy had been waiting, ambush set, gunfire tearing through the air before anyone had time to react properly.

You had been holding his ground, covering Keegan’s six when the pain hit. A sharp, burning agony ripping through your torso.

You barely had time to register the shot before You were on the ground.

“Y/N DOWN!”

Everything blurred. you could hear shouting, but it was distant—like you were sinking underwater. The weight of your gear suddenly felt suffocating.

And then—hands. Strong, steady, familiar hands pressing against your wound.

"Stay with me!" Elias’ voice sliced through the noise, commanding, but there was something buried beneath it—something raw. Something you’d never expected to hear from him.

Panic.

Elias Walker didn’t panic. Not in the field. Not in the face of death. Not ever.

Yet, his grip was relentless, pressing down on the wound with such force it almost felt like he was trying to hold you together. His hands, usually steady as stone, now trembled slightly, but his eyes never left yours.

"Merrick, Keegan—covering fire, now! We need an evac, ASAP!" His orders rang out, sharp and urgent, Now his gaze was fixed, locking onto you as though he could will you to stay conscious.

Around you, the world exploded in action—Merrick and Keegan firing, pushing the enemy back, their movements fluid and practiced. But Elias? He didn’t move. He stayed there, kneeling beside you, a sentinel, refusing to leave your side.

You tried to breathe, but it came out as a wet, broken gasp. The air burned, the pain almost too much to bear.

Shit.

It was bad.

Real bad.

You were fading fast, the edges of your vision slipping into darkness. Everything felt distant, like you were no longer fully part of the world around you.

Your fingers twitched weakly, reaching for Elias’ sleeve—not out of desperation, not out of fear. Just to hold on. To ground yourself in something.

Elias glanced down at you, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. "Don’t you dare give up, son."

And just like that, the words spilled out.

"I see you as a father, Elias."

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t some grand confession. It was just the truth—simple and undeniable. The truth you’d buried under years of discipline, of pushing forward, of convincing yourself it didn’t matter.

But it did.

And now, as blood pooled beneath you, as Elias held you together, keeping you tethered to life—those words broke free, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Elias froze.

Elias’ grip on you tightened, his usually unreadable face cracking just slightly, betraying a flicker of something unspoken.

You coughed, the taste of iron thick on your tongue, but you kept going—because if you were going to die here, at least Elias would know.

"I never had one." Your voice was weak, barely audible over the chaos around you. "But you—you were the closest thing I ever had."

Elias’ throat worked, his chest rising with a breath he didn’t release, like he wanted to say something, anything—but nothing came out. His hands stayed firm, steady, holding you like you were the only thing left in the world.

For a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—something raw, something real, something that wasn’t meant to be there. But then—

Everything faded.

Darkness swallowed you whole.

Congratulations you are alive

The first thing you noticed was the silence.

No gunfire. No shouting. Just the soft, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor cutting through the still air. The faint, sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the room. Your body ached, a dull throb that reminded you of one undeniable truth:

You were alive.

With a groan, you forced your eyes open. The bright lights overhead pierced your senses, making you flinch. Your limbs felt heavy, leaden. But then, as you turned your head just enough, you saw him.

Elias.

He sat across the room, his posture rigid, arms crossed, his gaze locked on you the instant you moved.

Not just your CO. Not just your commander.

But your father figure.

A weak, dry chuckle escaped you. "Didn’t think I’d wake up."

Elias shook his head, his face still set in that familiar, unyielding sternness—but his eyes were different. There was something raw in them, something unguarded. "Neither did I."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

You licked your dry lips, the words escaping in a rasp. "Where are the others?"

Elias leaned back slightly, his arms still crossed, his gaze unwavering. "Merrick and Keegan are handling the debrief. Hesh and Logan are outside." His voice softened, just enough for you to catch. "They've been here since we got you out."

You blinked slowly, letting the weight of his words settle into you like a stone sinking into water.

They had stayed.

Elias had stayed.

A tight, painful lump formed in your throat. You swallowed, the motion feeling like shards of glass scraping against your insides. "Did I... actually say that shit out loud?" You said bringing the topic and what you have said.

The question hung in the air, thick with embarrassment, with uncertainty. But Elias didn’t look away, his expression unreadable, as if your confession hadn’t shattered anything between you—just left it exposed, raw.

Elias gave a slow, measured nod.

You groaned, dragging a shaky hand over your face. "Damn. Thought I was just thinking it."

Elias exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, but something close—something that spoke of years of unspoken tension, of moments like these.

A beat of silence stretched between you, the kind that felt heavy, pregnant with something unspoken. Then, finally—

"You weren't wrong."

You turned your head slightly, your eyes locking with Elias’.

"What?"

The word slipped out before you could stop it, the confusion in your voice thick, unsure. What did he mean? What was he saying?

Elias’ gaze was unwavering, steady, like the ground beneath you was about to shift. "I’m not good at saying crab like this, but—you weren’t wrong. About how I see you."

Your breath caught for just a moment, the words landing in your chest like a punch.

Elias leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re not just another soldier to me. Haven’t been for a long time."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking deep into you, heavier than any bullet wound, deeper than any pain you’d ever known.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—

That hollow feeling, the one that had always lingered at the edges of your mind, wasn’t there anymore. It was gone.

You let out a slow breath, still groggy from whatever meds were coursing through your veins. Your body ached like hell, every movement a reminder of how fragile you were in this moment, but your mind felt sharper now. You were awake, alive, and painfully aware of what had just been said.

And it felt unreal.

Elias Walker, the man who had trained you like a machine, who had pushed you harder than anyone ever had, who had made sure you never slacked—wasn’t just admitting it, he was outright saying it. He saw you as something more than just another soldier.

But you couldn’t trust that. Not right now.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the dull pain that stabbed through your side. “Sir, you don’t have to say that.” Your voice came out rough, quiet, the kind of sound that only comes from the edge of exhaustion. “I just got shot—I get it. People say shit when they think someone’s dying—”

“Shut up.”

The command was sharp, cutting through your words like a blade. Elias' gaze locked onto yours, unwavering, and for the first time, you saw the weight of something real in his eyes.

You blinked, your gaze shifting to Elias, whose expression remained as unyielding as ever. His arms were crossed, posture firm, but the sharpness in his voice was impossible to ignore.

"I don’t say things just to say them." His gaze held yours, unwavering, like a soldier scanning the battlefield. "I’m not the type to sit here and sympathize just because you're lying in a hospital bed."

"If I want to say something, I say it."

You felt your throat tighten, the words settling heavy in your chest.

You knew Elias wasn't the kind of man to waste words. Everything he said had weight, had meaning.

So why did this feel so heavy?

Elias sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, before looking at you again, his expression unreadable. "You think I’d go easy on you now, just because you took a bullet? I Have seen worse than your situation."

You let out a weak, dry chuckle. "Kinda hoped so."

Elias huffed, the corners of his mouth twitching into something like a smirk. "Not a damn chance."

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, not tense. It was simply there—a quiet space filled with the weight of things that had been said, things that had been left unsaid.

You swallowed, shifting slightly in the bed, feeling the pull of pain in your side. Hesitation tugged at your words, but you pushed it down. “So you mean it?”

Elias didn’t hesitate. His response was steady, sure, like a command. “Yeah.”

“I do.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Processing.

For so long, you’d thought you were alone in this. That the way you felt—the way you wanted to see Elias as more than just your commander—was something you’d buried deep inside, thinking it was one-sided.

But now?

Now, Elias had made it clear.

You weren’t just another soldier.

And maybe—just maybe—you never had been.

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.

When i see the memes in this fandom get more notes (like from 70-100 or higher) than ACTUAL good fic, and then yall say we are having a lack of fics and hcs😭😭😭🙏🏻

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.