Nvm.

Doing the "relationship alphabet" series with cod ghosts characters (all of them!!) and starting with logan walker!

also it is SFW! and maybe light NSFW

I have so many Requests HOLY MOTHER!! thank you guys for sending me requests and trusting me with yalls ideas😔🙏🏻

I might take so many times! because i have studying but i have so many already in my drafts, so yeah! will post whenever i want to!

Finally you turned on anon, anyways i luv ya and luv ur blog🫶🏻

Why wanna hide yourself from me anon

Erm...I shouldn't have even made this blog from the first place I have unfinished lessons, next final exams and unfinished requests (Jokes on yall half of em i didnt even think about to write)

GUYS STOP IM NOT CRAZY I JUST WANNA MESS AROUND!!

HII can you write riley X reader!💋😏😍🙏🏻

WHAT THE HELL??, sure.

[that request was like weeks ago HELPPPP I CANT BELIEVE I WROTE THIS]

No time to explain...

[Years Ago – The Act of Kindness]

It was a cold, lonely evening when you found him.

A small, weak, starving German Shepherd shivering under a streetlight, looking like a tragic protagonist in a war movie. His ribs poked out. His eyes, glassy and desperate. You froze. The wind howled around you. The world slowed.

You couldn’t just walk away. You wouldn’t.

With trembling hands, you reached into your bag and pulled out your last sandwich—your favorite sandwich. You hesitated. Did you really have to give him the whole thing?

But one look at that little face, and you knew.

"Take it, buddy," you whispered, voice breaking like this was the emotional climax of a Hollywood film. "Live."

The pup devoured it in seconds, his little tail wagging weakly. Then he was gone.

You never saw him again.

Until tonight.

The battlefield burned around you. Gunfire echoed. Everything was chaos. You were cornered, breathing hard, blood dripping down your temple. This was it. The end.

Then—

SCREEEEECH.

A black SUV came barreling down the dirt road, kicking up dust, headlights blinding. The door swung open before the car even stopped.

You shielded your eyes from the dust, coughing. Who the hell was driving like this?

Then, you heard the voice.

"NO TIME TO EXPLAIN. GET IN THE CAR."

Your blood ran cold. That voice. It was deep. Commanding. Heroic.

You turned slowly.

And there, sitting in the driver’s seat… was a German Shepherd.

A combat vest. Tactical headset. Dog goggles reflecting the flames of battle. Paws gripping the wheel.

It was Riley.

Your knees buckled.

"NO. WAY."

Riley snarled.

"GET IN, SOLDIER."

Your body moved before your brain could process. You dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut as Riley floored it, tires screeching.

You stared at him. Mouth open. Shaking.

"...Riley. YOU’RE A DOG. HOW ARE YOU DRIVING?"

His dog goggles glinted in the streetlights as he took a sharp turn, dodging an explosion WITHOUT EVEN BLINKING.

"I SAID NO TIME TO EXPLAIN."

You gripped the dashboard, mind unraveling.

"...CAN YOU TALK? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ABLE TO TALK?"

Riley sighed, ears twitching. "Listen, I didn’t WANT you to find out like this. But fate has a way of catching up."

"FATE?! YOU’RE A DOG."

"AND YOU'RE SCREAMING IN MY CAR."

"...IT’S NOT EVEN YOUR CAR, YOU’RE A DOG."

"IT IS NOW."

You blinked in disbelief as Riley casually switched lanes with his PAW.

"I was trained for this," he muttered. "Ever since you fed me that sandwich, I knew... I owed you."

Your soul left your body.

"Riley. Please. You're literally a dog."

He just nodded, eyes locked on the road.

"I know."

You sat in the passenger seat, completely paralyzed. Every bone in your body refused to move as your brain fought to accept the impossible truth.

Riley, a literal dog, was driving an SUV at 110 mph like he had a mortgage and child support to pay.

Your mouth hung open. Your breath came out in shallow, broken gasps. You could still hear the echoes of gunfire in the distance, but nothing—NOTHING—could compare to the sheer psychological damage happening in your mind right now.

Riley, paws gripping the wheel, squinted at the road like a seasoned war veteran. The silence in the car was deafening.

Then, in the most casual, human-like voice you’ve ever heard…

"So, what’s up?"

You blinked. Your entire nervous system crashed like a Windows XP error.

“…Excuse me?”

Riley sighed, tilting his head slightly. "I asked what's up. You seem tense."

You stared at him. Stared at the wheel. Stared at his fluffy paws effortlessly steering. Then back at him.

Your hands clenched into fists. You inhaled sharply.

"UH. YOU KNOW. I WAS JUST ABOUT TO DIE, AND THEN YOU SHOWED UP DRIVING A WHOLE ASS CAR AND TALKING, SO YEAH, I'D SAY I'M A BIT ‘TENSE’ RIGHT NOW."

Riley side-eyed you through his dog goggles and clicked his tongue.

"Yeah, I gathered that, fucking idiot. Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know?"

You sat there. Dumbfounded.

Your brain searched for a response. There was none. Nothing. Just a void of pure confusion.

And then, as if this entire situation wasn’t unhinged enough, Riley took a deep breath, exhaled dramatically, and went:

"Alright, let's talk about the team."

He flexed his paws on the steering wheel like he was about to deliver the monologue of the century.

"Hesh," he started, shaking his head. "Poor bastard. Tries so hard. Always acting like he's got it together, like he's the leader, but you and I both know that kid is two bad days away from a full emotional breakdown."

You blinked. "...Damn."

"Logan," Riley continued, taking a casual turn WITH HIS PAW. "Bro doesn’t speak. Not that he can’t—he just won’t. Dead silent. Stone cold. But if you’ve ever seen him when he thinks no one's watching? Yeah. That man has absolutely cried in his room at 3 AM while listening to Linkin Park. I know it. I feel it in my soul."

You stared at him, unable to process how a DOG was delivering the most accurate character analysis you've ever heard.

Riley continued, eyes still on the road, like this was a podcast.

"Merrick." A deep sigh. "Man’s been through too much. You look into his eyes, and it’s just PTSD and caffeine. He won’t say it, but I know he wakes up in a cold sweat at least twice a week. He's got ‘haunted past’ written all over him. The dude deserves a nap."

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

"Keegan." Riley let out a single, dry chuckle. "That guy? If brooding and trauma had a baby, it would be him. Man tries so hard to be intimidating, but let’s be real—he’s like a raccoon in a human body. He’ll disappear for 14 hours and come back like nothing happened. Probably sleeps in a vent somewhere. I respect it."

You couldn't BREATHE.

Riley wasn’t even looking at you anymore—he was just talking, like this was a TED Talk.

"Kick." Riley let out a low whistle. "Dude’s the most normal out of all of us, which is concerning. Like, why are you well-adjusted? What’s your secret? Are you hiding something? I keep an eye on him, just in case."

At this point, you were fully gripping your seatbelt like your life depended on it.

Then Riley’s voice dropped into something heavy. Emotional.

"...Elias."

A long pause.

A deep breath.

"...Good man. A leader. A father. A loss we’ll never recover from."

You actually felt a lump in your throat. What the hell was this? A eulogy?

You were about to say something, but then—

"Rorke, though? Absolute waste of human existence."

Your head snapped towards Riley so fast, you almost broke your neck.

"Oh—oh my god."

Riley continued, voice full of venom. "Rorke out here looking like a rejected Fast & Furious villain, but ain't fast or furious—just bald."

You choked.

"Looks like an evil stepdad who forces you to call him by his first name."

Tears. Actual tears formed in your eyes.

"I—Riley, please—"

"Man is bald as hell but wears a durag like it's gonna bring his hairline back."

You were GASPING FOR AIR.

Riley simply exhaled through his nose like he had just dropped wisdom upon the world.

You sat there, completely emotionally destroyed, as the SUV finally rolled up to your house.

Riley parked perfectly (because of course he did), put the car in park, and turned to you.

For the first time, he took off his goggles, locking eyes with you. His stare was intense. Soul-piercing.

"Remember this day."

Then, as if none of this ever happened, Riley opened the door with his paw, stepped out, and disappeared into the night.

Leaving you to question everything you had ever known.

"I JUST...."

"We are ghosts bitch."

[FADE TO BLACK.]

🎶 Dramatic music swells. 🎶

[CREDITS ROLL.]

DIRECTED BY: Riley. WRITTEN BY: Riley. PRODUCED BY: Riley. STARRING: Riley.

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

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

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.

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

Gang doesn't know I fw this ost

Aha.

i’m YEARNING for Kick x reader fics theres barley any💔💔 i feel like those shaking chiwawawwaeas when i can’t find any that i haven’t read.

Ohh i understand you anon :(

Even tho i posted here like many? if you have something in mind you can send a request to me! and i will gladly write.

It's honestly so disturbing when women are the ones tearing each other down, especially when it’s about something as personal as another woman’s body, face, or choices. It’s infuriating to watch female journalists—who should be empowering others—bully and criticize another woman’s appearance like it’s their business to judge. Why does it have to be like this? Both genders should never get involved in other people's personal matters, but when it’s women doing it to women, it’s even worse! The hypocrisy is real.

How can you, as a woman, stand there and contribute to this? How could you put down another woman instead of standing beside her? Would you feel the same if it was your best friend or your own sister being treated this way? Imagine the pain of having the women closest to you turn on you, judging you for something that should never concern them. Yet, here you are, spewing toxic words and energy. What exactly are you gaining from this?

Instead of being supportive and uplifting, you’re feeding into a cycle of cruelty, making the world worse for the women around you. It’s not just unnecessary—it’s disgraceful. Grow up. Stop wasting your energy tearing other women down. It’s pathetic, and frankly, it says more about your own insecurities than the person you're attacking.

And to end this, Millie, I love you so much, sweetie 💗🙏🏻. I know you don’t need anyone’s positive words because you’re already incredibly strong, and you’ve endured far worse from both women and men. But I just wanted to say it—because you deserve to hear it. I also want to apologize for those toxic articles and jokes. No one should have to deal with that, Keep shining, Millie