“They Wouldn’t Enjoy/do/act Like That!” How Do You Know? Did You Ask The Fictional Character That

Also info updated yay! just some tags info and stuff.

𓂃 ✧ 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔 ✦

𑁍 𓏲 ˚ ⋅ ❝ Chase the moon, catch the dream. ❞ ⋅ ˚ 𓏲 𑁍

⌕ 𝐴𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝑒

╭─────────────── · · · ↳ 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝗘𝘀𝗿𝗮𝗮 ↳ 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔: 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳 ↳ 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆: I post Call of Duty: Ghosts, also in Call of Duty MW2, MW3, and MW4 (OG)—with COD WW2 and COD BO! ↳ 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔: 𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣! ╰─────────────── · · ·

⌕ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

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⌕ 𝑅𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈 & 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈

╭────────── ⋅ ⋅ ✦ 𝐼 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒: ﹒❥ Fluff & Soft Romance (wholesome, comforting, domestic moments etc...) ﹒❥ Light NSFW (suggestive themes, tension, but nothing explicit) ﹒❥ Angst (hurt/comfort, bittersweet moments, emotional depth) ﹒❥ Slice of Life (cozy everyday moments, lighthearted scenarios) ﹒❥ Fantasy & AU (alternate universes, magical elements, dreamy settings)

✦ 𝐼 𝒲𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒: ﹒✗ Heavy NSFW (explicit content, non-con, extreme kinks) ﹒✗ Harmful Topics (incest, abuse, unhealthy relationships)

✦ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: ﹒⟡ Send requests through asks/submissions ﹒⟡ Please specify character, prompt, gender and mood (fluff, angst, etc.) If you are not so specific about the gender of the reader or the situation (teammate, rom partner) imma ignore your request🙏🏻 ﹒⟡ Keep requests within my writing comfort zones! ╰────────── ⋅ ⋅

⌕ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 𝐼𝓃𝒻𝑜

╭─────────────── · · · ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's masterlist: my original works and requests. ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's requests: all request ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's asks: Answering my chat asks. ↳ #𓂃 ࣪⋆💿˚ ༘ esraa's past experience: Sharing my past experiences, from toxic and other not good stuff to warn you guys! you are deserved to be happy and safe. ╰─────────────── · · ·

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Me writing my ideas of hcs and one shots with 20 requests of yall up my ass😝.

I want to give a friendly reminder and a lesson i have learned today!! ༊*·˚

Hey friends, Just a small reminder and something I learned today that I want to share with you:

Never let anyone's judgment shake you—especially when you’re not doing anything wrong. If what you’re doing brings you happiness, whether it’s writing, drawing, loving a character, or just enjoying your own space, then that’s enough. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, you have every right to enjoy what brings you joy.

Don’t let anyone make you feel strange, guilty, or “wrong” for simply being yourself. More often than not, the same people judging you are doing the very things they criticize—sometimes even more so!!.

I realized that today, and honestly, it made me feel sick. I was just vibing, minding my own business, and suddenly felt like I didn’t want to be around certain people anymore.

So please—keep doing what you love, no matter how “cringe” or just them judging you to make themselves look so good in front of you, This is your one life. Live it joyfully, authentically, and on your terms.

Have a nice day <3!!.

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

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

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

u will be missed lo

Forsaken

Logans POV from the Pit

One - The beginning, or the aftermath?

Just when he thought that everything was alright, that everything was over and done with, that they had got their revenge and justice for all those people that had died, for Ajax - it all crumbled down in one minute

Rorke.

How the fuck did he survive?

He remembered Hesh had smashed his skull with a fire extinguisher, he himself had shot him straight in the chest with a twisting speeding bullet, and Rorke was drowned in water almost an instance after the glass broke. How could he survive?

Maybe this is why Rorke was such a dangerous Ghost. Keyword, was. He was no longer a Ghost, he had lost that title a long time ago when he had betrayed the squad. Elias had told him.

But why did he come back even if he did survive all that? Why was he so intent on taking him? Why not his brother? Why not both of them? Shouldn't Rorke have just run back to whatever hole he came out from and went back into hiding and recover from that hit? So why? Why did he take him with him despite everything?

Did he really remind Rorke that much of Elias?

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────

Two - The Silent Mind

He abruptly coughed dryly as the thoughts in his mind swirled around, lying on his side, choking for those few seconds as he gasped for air.

Eventually, the coughing fit of a storm calmed down - not without leaving tears in his eyes, that is.

He was dehydrated. Thirsty and starving. Weak and frail. His throat felt like it was burning, an irritating tightness being felt as the reflex to cough kept attacking him over and over again like raining bullets. Like a thorn was lodged in his throat, and he couldn't get it out, an endless cycle.

He weakly shifted his head from the side-laying position to look up, eyes bleary. All he could see was that same old metal wire barrier between him and the outside world. It was dark outside, the dark looming trees blocking out any sort of excess moonlight as they silently wavered in the breeze, the scent of all sorts of vegetation and dark mushy wet soil wafting down to him.

It was quiet, too quiet.

Too peaceful. Like the calm after a storm. Expect, he was in the storm still.

He would have used this time to take a moment to collect his thoughts and maybe even get some rest - if only it weren't for the fact that pipes were all up his ass, to clense his bowels, and the dirt ground was crawling with insects. He couldn't lay down even a second without hearing the sounds of those fucking teeny tiny legs scittering and scattering around. It grossed him out, even if those things couldn't exactly hurt him. His limbs were tied, keeping him in place with no way to move around into a better position to avoid the bugs on the ground. Zero proper blood circulation, so he felt tense and tight in place.

He was literally kissing the filt on the floor, even if it was just the side of his face. It smelled like shit, like grime. He really wished he didn't have the sense to smell right now. Didn't it smell worse because one of the Fed's took a piss on him?

Well—not on him, more like near where he was placed. He couldn't remember exactly, though. His mind was fogged up.

He knew this wasn't even the beginning of what he would have to go through. All he knew was that his brother and the entire Ghost Team were coming to save him. They wouldn't leave him behind, now would they? He was sure that they were currently trying to track down his location. Maybe they had already found it and were making a plan to attack - though that was probably a stretch.

He reminded himself to relax, to not get too hopeful or excited. It had only been a couple of months, right? He wasn't too sure as to how much time had passed, but he knew it had a long time judging by the amount of weight and muscle mass he had lost. He knew his hands would be all shaky if he was told to hold a rilfe, hell, even the same pistol he used to shoot Rorke would have the same result.

If he was given a mirror, he knew that he wouldn't even be recognizable...would his brother even recognize him after all this? Would he have changed that much?

He tried not to think about the bad parts too intently. He knew the team was working on his case, after all...

No Ghost ever got left behind.

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Three - Denial and Acceptance

Hesh?

Is...is that you?

He couldn't believe it

After so long, he had finally been found

Finally. Finally he would be given freedom and be reunited with the only family he had left. He would tell them all about what the Feds had done to him and they'll all help burn the place down, first was getting him to safety

He waited in the hole patiently, his heart pounding in anticipation. He waited, his body language tense and trembling in faint happiness. He knew he had heard his brother's voice, he swore he also heard that same rumble of Keegan's voice in line with Hesh's.

So, where were they?

His head was spinning as his back slumped against the dirt wall after waiting in place for 10 minutes. Did they lose his trail? Did they retreat? Did they get caught? What happened? There was no way they would leave him here.

No.

No, they weren't like that

Had he been dreaming about them?

No, it couldn't be. It felt too vivid, their voices, to be fake. He hadn't lost his sanity that much, right? Right. There was no way...

...then why would the voices suddenly disappear when he paid attention to them and expected something to happen?

He started to repeat the names of all the Ghosts to himself, mumbling silently from his bloody and cracked lips as his hands clasped together in almost a last attempt of desperation - as if he was praying. The memories of everyone he had flooding his mind like a tidal wave, the more notable memories featuring him and Hesh in the past, before they got into any of this, this whole mess. They had wanted to become something, not immediate soliders. But when Hesh joined, thanks to their dad, he also found himself joining, wanting to follow his brother...

If only he knew that he would be ending up here. And probably end up losing his brother, too. He had already lost his dad due to this job. Who else did he have to lose? Hell, even Ajax was dead. So, who was next? Him?

No.

They wouldn't kill him. He knew Rorke wanted him to himself. That man himself said he wasn't going to let him be a Ghost, ever.

Truly, he wanted to die. To kill himself to end all of this. But he didn't. His brother kept him alive. The idea that survival and freedom were still on the plate for him kept him alive. Even if it was slowly starting to slip away from his fingertips.

Qestion was, how long could he maintain this for before Rorke ripped his mind apart from the very stem and took a look inside to see what he could tweak and eliminate.

Could Rorke really make him forget who he was? He didn't want to believe it. But he knew what the Fed's were capable of. If someone like Rorke lost his way, there was no doubt that someone like him would have the same fate.

Question was how long his stubbornness could keep him going. Question was how long he could resist the Federation's advances. Question was how long he could hold on to his identity.

Hopefully, the name "Logan Walker" wouldn't become a former.

Hopefully, it wouldn't become a lost identity.

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.

TW: Sucide photo!!

Hey guys reblogging for yalls safety!! please be aware of them and be safe!!

also see the additional of it in @stargazing-sapphire2

Important PSA

I normally don't do call-out posts, but after everything that went and what I've been told/shown, I can't stay silent about this, especially after it has badly effected close friends of mine.

TRIGGER WARNING UNDER THE CUT: Threats of suicide, self-harm, doxxing and harassment. Please proceed with caution when engaging with this post.

As of this month, this individual has been the subject of drama and unprompted harassment in the Ghosts fandom as well as in both servers (one of which I'm the moderator), as well as on here due to them harassing and acting aggressive on here to those who attempted to reach out to them.

*Urls blacked out for privacy reasons*

They've attempted to get back into the server despite leaving, and if you're here in there, do not understand any circumstance send them a link. This is for safety reasons

•Them sending anonymous hate in response to being blocked

Huge trigger warning for the images down below, as they contain a photo of their self-harm they themselves posted in the server as well as doxxing someone they've had issues with

*Openly bragging about someone who deactivated due to the constant harassment and doxxing*

I have been made aware of his behavior in the other server, where he harassed and insulted a minor over their art, as well as breaking the rules over SFW/NSFW content

Him also openly admitting to being transphobic on his alt account.

Due to the image limit on posts, I will be reblogging additional screenshots through there, and possibly a lot if anything else comes out.

Please block and report this person, and do not engage or talk to them under any circumstance. Please stay safe out there!

Aha.

Linkin park is so logan. bye.

Reference for artists. draw logan hugging hesh from the last mission scene cuz he knows something will happen, you will do it? thank you.

art belongs to the artists!