Hi Guys! Just A Heads Up: I'm Going To Delete Dual Mind, Single Heart And Completely Rewrite It With

oh, there he go

dunn x ramirez tho...

ladies and gentlemen the only reason why we don't have more unmasked logan (or logan himself lol) is because they feared his powers. thx.

hmu, walker😔

drew my last reblog yayayyy, yall dont have any idea of how much i love hesh, its so dumb MA SHAYLAAAUUGHHHH OUGHH

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

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

✧ Title: The last command

Special thanks to @frenchfriesandhawtguys about the idea to the end of the oneshot!! <3

✧ Characters: G!N! Reader, Hesh walker, Logan walker, Riley,

✧ Summary: You were the one who found Riley—a helpless pup, lost and trembling. You raised him, trained him, gave him a name. Through battles and quiet nights, he was your shadow, your only constant. He knew you like no other, and you, him. But everything ends, and fate never spares even the deepest bonds…

✧ Warnings: Mention of death.

✧ Word Count: 3,986 words.

The world had unraveled, torn apart at the seams.

The ODIN strike had not simply reduced cities to rubble—it had rewritten the very landscape, turning once-thriving metropolises into smoldering graveyards. Ash clung to the air like a ghost that refused to leave, settling into the jagged ruins of homes, buildings, and streets now stripped of their purpose. Civilization had fractured, splintering into desperate clusters of survivors, each one grasping at the edges of a world that no longer existed.

You were not a soldier. Not yet. Just a lone figure in the wreckage, trying to outlast the end of everything.

The forest had become your refuge. Here, the air was still, untouched in some places, yet carrying an eerie stillness in others. Towering trees cast skeletal shadows over the ground, their branches whispering secrets to the wind. And always, there was the scent of smoke—distant but ever-present—a quiet testament to the devastation that loomed just beyond the tree line.

The rest stop was a ghost of what it once was.

Cracked pavement split apart by stubborn weeds, the remains of burned-out cars sitting like rusted tombstones, their hollowed frames whispering stories of those who never made it out. The air was thick with the scent of old smoke and decay, the kind of stillness that made your skin crawl.

You moved carefully, each step deliberate. Silence was survival. A misplaced footstep, a careless sound—it could bring someone, or worse, something.

Then, you heard it.

A faint whimper.

It was soft, almost swallowed by the wind, but unmistakable. Your fingers tightened around the rusted metal pipe in your grip, your only weapon, its weight familiar yet useless against the unknown.

Heart pounding, you followed the sound, stepping over shattered glass, weaving between skeletal remains of vehicles. The whimper came again, fragile, almost pleading.

And then you saw him.

The pup was barely more than skin and bones, a fragile thing caught between the wreckage of a world that had forgotten him. His fur, once thick and proud, was now matted with dirt and dust. His ribs pressed against his skin, a silent testament to how long he had been fighting—how long he had been losing.

His wide, wary eyes met yours, flickering between fear and something else. Hope, maybe. But he didn’t trust it yet.

You crouched slowly, careful not to startle him, your voice soft against the quiet.

“Hey, buddy... it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

He flinched but didn’t run. He couldn’t.

Reaching into your pack, you pulled out the last strip of jerky you had scavenged earlier. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You tossed it gently onto the cracked pavement between you. The pup sniffed the air, hesitated, then, with a weak shuffle of paws, crept forward and took it.

The moment his small jaws closed around the food, something in your chest tightened.

He was alone. Just like you.

From the moment he took that first bite, Riley became a shadow at your side.

The first night, he barely slept. Every snap of a branch, every distant echo of destruction sent a tremor through his small frame. He would lift his head, ears twitching, eyes wide and searching. You found yourself murmuring reassurances in the dark, your hand resting over his frail body, offering what little warmth and comfort you could.

The forest became home. Together, you picked your way through the wreckage of a lost world—fallen trees, broken highways, the hollow husks of abandoned gas stations. Scavenging was a way of life now, and Riley learned fast. He stayed close, his sharp eyes watching your every move. When you signaled, he listened. When you stopped, he froze.

Days bled into nights, and Riley grew. His ribs became less pronounced, his legs steadier, his steps more confident. He was no longer the frightened pup trembling beneath the wreckage. He moved with purpose now, following your every step, learning your cues. He knew when to be silent, when to alert you with a quiet growl, when to run.

He was more than just a companion now.

He was family.

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

The sky burned with the colors of a dying day—deep orange fading into crimson, casting long shadows over the broken world. The distant skyline stood jagged against the horizon, its skeletal remains silhouetted by the last light. What had once been towering monuments of civilization were now crumbling reminders of what was lost.

You sat beside the small fire, its flickering glow offering the only warmth in the cool evening air. Riley lay beside you, his head resting on your lap, eyes half-closed but still listening, always listening. His breathing was slow, steady, the rise and fall of his chest a quiet reassurance that, for now, you were both safe.

You exhaled, watching the flames dance, then glanced back at the ruins in the distance. The world had fallen apart, but here, in this moment, there was something left to hold onto.

“We’re gonna get through this, buddy.”

Riley’s tail thumped once against the dirt—a silent promise.

And in that moment, you knew—whatever came next, however dark the road ahead became, you wouldn’t walk it alone.

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

You hadn’t realized naming a dog would be such a challenge.

There you were, perched on a fallen log near your makeshift camp, Riley—well, the pup—sitting in front of you, his wide, eager eyes fixed on you, ears perked. He tilted his small head slightly, as if waiting for a command, or maybe for you to finally settle on a name.

His fur was looking healthier now, the days of rest and the food you’d managed to find filling him out a bit. He was starting to trust you more, the tentative steps he’d once taken now replaced with more confident movements. But despite everything, he still had that look in his eyes, the one that said you’re still the one in charge.

"Alright, buddy… we gotta give you a name," you murmured, rolling a small stick between your hands. Riley’s tail thumped once on the dirt as if agreeing.

You tried a few out loud, each one punctuated by a hopeful glance at his reaction.

"Max?"

Nothing.

"Scout?"

A slow blink.

"Ace?"

A lazy yawn, like he couldn’t be bothered.

You huffed, exasperated, and stared at him with a raised brow. "You gotta help me out here, pal."

Riley tilted his head again, as though he was genuinely considering your words. But after a moment, he simply licked his paw and gave you that look—the one that said, You’re the one with the ideas, human.

You sighed. Naming him was going to take some time.

Then, out of nowhere, a memory surfaced—a distant echo from a time when the world still made sense.

It was from an old movie, the kind you used to watch on lazy afternoons before everything changed. There was This dog named Riley. The dog had saved his friends countless times, charging into danger without hesitation.

"Riley."

The pup’s ears perked instantly, his eyes locking on yours, curiosity sparking in them. His tail gave a tentative wag.

"Riley?" you tried again, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

This time, he let out a tiny, almost uncertain ruff—a sound so small, yet somehow, it felt like the weight of the world had shifted. His first bark since you’d found him.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a rare, genuine sound that felt good in your chest. You reached out, your hand finding his ears, ruffling them gently. "Alright, Riley it is. Hope you like it, 'cause it’s sticking."

From that moment forward, Riley wasn’t just a stray dog in a broken world. He was yours. And you were his.

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

A few weeks had passed, and Riley had grown into his name—stronger, sharper, more confident. He stuck to your side like a shadow, his trust in you solidified by every meal shared, every long night spent keeping watch over each other.

It was during a routine scavenging trip to an abandoned military outpost that you found it—an old, dented dog tag machine, half-buried beneath layers of dust and rust. Most of the base had been stripped clean, but this? This was something special.

You grinned, glancing down at Riley, who sat attentively beside you, his ears perked.

"Looks like it’s time to make it official, huh?"

The machine groaned to life after some trial and error, its gears grinding stubbornly. You fed in a blank tag, punched in the letters carefully, and waited as it clanked and stamped the metal.

When you pulled the tag free, you held it up to the dim light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling.

RILEY LOYAL TO THE END

You let out a low whistle, nodding in approval before threading the tag onto a spare chain. Kneeling, you gently fastened it around Riley’s neck, the metal cool against his fur.

“There you are.”

Riley shook his head, adjusting to the weight, then looked up at you with those bright, intelligent eyes. His tail thumped against the dusty floor, and then, for the first time since you found him, he let out a full, happy bark.

That was the moment you saw it—not just gratitude, not just trust.

Pure joy.

One afternoon, while resting near the crumbling remains of an old gas station, an idea struck you. Riley had grown sharper, faster—he had a knack for moving quietly when he wanted to. So, why not test it?

"Alright, riley," you said, stretching out on the cracked pavement. "We’re gonna play a game. If you can sneak up on me, you win."

Riley tilted his head, ears twitching as if considering the challenge.

You turned around, pretending to be unaware, staring off into the distance like you weren’t listening.

For a few moments, nothing. Just the wind rattling the rusted-out signs and the occasional creak of an abandoned car settling into the dirt. Then—so faint it was almost imperceptible—soft paw steps, the tiniest crunch of gravel shifting under careful weight.

You tensed, a grin tugging at your lips. He’s good.

But before you could react—

WHAM.

Riley pounced onto your back, sending you sprawling forward with an excited bark.

“Damn it—Riley!” you burst out, laughing as you hit the ground. He scrambled over you, tail wagging like crazy, tongue lolling out in sheer triumph.

You rolled onto your back, breathless, grinning up at him. "Fine, fine! You win!"

Riley let out another happy bark before flopping onto your chest, victorious.

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

The tunnel was your only chance.

Above, the world had become a graveyard—charred buildings, shattered roads, the sky thick with the lingering ghosts of fire and death. The air reeked of ruin, the scent of the ODIN Strike’s wrath still clinging to everything like a curse. And now, the Feds were closing in.

You pressed your back against the cold concrete, every muscle tight, one hand gripping Riley’s collar. He was still small—still young—but he was smart. You had to believe in that. You had to believe in him.

"Riley," you whispered, your breath unsteady, barely audible over the distant hum of approaching boots. "You have to listen to me, okay?"

He looked up at you, ears twitching, his wide, trusting eyes searching yours. His tail—usually wagging, usually full of life—hung low. He could feel it, the weight of your fear, the edge of your desperation pressing into the space between you.

The tunnel’s exit loomed ahead, blocked by thick metal bars—rusted, unyielding. But near the bottom, just barely visible in the dim light, was a gap. Small. Too small for you. But just big enough for Riley.

You swallowed hard, nudging him forward. "Through there, boy. Go."

He hesitated. Whimpered. His paws barely moved.

Because he knew.

If he left, he might not see you again.

"Riley, please!" you begged, your voice barely more than a breath.

The sound of boots crunching over shattered concrete sent ice through your veins. They were close. Too close.

Desperation clawed at your chest as you reached down, running a trembling hand over Riley’s fur one last time. His body was tense, his wide eyes pleading with you, but there was no time. No choice.

You pushed him forward.

"Go."

He whined, resisting, his paws digging into the dirt. But you didn’t let up. With one last shove, he squeezed through the opening, his tail the last thing you saw before he slipped to the other side.

"Good boy," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Riley turned, ears perked, golden eyes locked onto yours. He waited, tail twitching. Waiting for you to follow.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you grabbed the nearest thing—an old, rusted metal sheet—and shoved it over the hole. The sharp screech of metal against stone made your skin crawl as you forced it into place, sealing the gap, locking him out.

Riley barked, panicked. Scratched at the barrier.

You pressed your hand against the cold metal, eyes squeezing shut.

"I’m sorry, buddy," you choked out.

Then, the shouting started.

Flashlight beams cut through the darkness, bouncing off the tunnel walls like hungry eyes searching, closing in.

The Feds.

They had found you.

But you didn’t turn. You didn’t listen. You didn’t care.

All that mattered was on the other side of that rusted metal barrier.

You pressed your forehead against the cold surface, your breath coming in quick, shaky gasps. “Riley, you gotta go!”

A sharp whine. Scraping paws. The sound of his nails against metal, desperate, refusing to leave. His ears flattened, his body low. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

Tears burned hot, but you held them back. You had to stay steady. For him.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest tight, your throat raw.

And then, with everything you had left, you gave the only command that mattered now.

“RILEY, RUN!”

For a moment, there was nothing. Just silence. Just pain.

Then—a hesitant shuffle. A broken whimper. And finally… footsteps retreating into the darkness.

He was gone.

And you let him go.

A single gunshot rang out, sharp and brutal, shattering the fragile silence that had settled between you and Riley.

The bark that followed was filled with fear—a terrified yelp that sent a raw, jagged pain through your chest.

You didn’t dare turn around.

Riley hesitated, just for a moment. You could almost feel the tug-of-war in his small frame—the pull of loyalty to you and the primal instinct to flee. But then, it happened.

Instinct took over.

You heard him move. His paws, frantic but determined, pounding against the tunnel floor, growing fainter with each passing second. He was gone. He was safe.

And you—you—you were left behind.

A cold chill wrapped itself around your spine, but you barely felt it. Your knees hit the ground with a dull thud, and you slumped forward, your hands pressing into the cracked, gritty surface beneath you. The weight of it all—everything—pressed down on your chest, suffocating you. You had done what needed to be done. He was safe.

The sound of boots crunching over debris drew closer. Their shadows moved across the tunnel walls, a harsh reminder of how little time you had left.

A voice. Harsh. Commanding.

And then, without warning, another gunshot.

This time, it wasn’t distant. It wasn’t a warning. It was meant for you.

The world blurred as the bullet hit its mark—pain exploded in your side, white-hot and consuming. The world tilted, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your vision tunneling. The echoes of the Feds’ movements seemed to stretch endlessly, like the whole world had slowed down, as if time was offering you a moment of clarity before everything fell apart.

You fell.

Your body hit the ground with a sickening thud, your limbs stiffening as blood seeped from the wound, dark and thick. Your breath came slower, weaker, the pulse of life fading with each passing second.

But through it all, one thing remained—the thought of Riley.

You were going to die, but he was free.

And somehow, that was enough.

The last thing you felt was the cold concrete pressing into your cheek as darkness overtook you, swallowing everything—until there was nothing left.

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

The world was quieter now. Not peaceful—never peaceful—but quieter. The aftermath of the Odin Strike had left behind a broken world, a barren wasteland of ruins and forgotten memories. The land was scarred, roads cracked and decayed, cities swallowed by ash and dust. And somewhere in that bleak emptiness, a lone German Shepherd sat beneath a crumbling highway overpass, staring at nothing.

His fur, once proud and sleek, was now darker than the debris that surrounded him—matted, tangled with dried mud and remnants of days spent surviving. His paws, once small and fragile, had grown into powerful things—calloused and worn, built for running, fighting, surviving in this new, unforgiving world.

But despite his strength, despite the muscles beneath his fur and the fire in his eyes, he looked small. He looked lost.

Hesh was the first to see him.

"Logan." The older brother’s voice was a low murmur, his gaze locked on the dog as he stepped carefully over the cracked pavement, eyes narrowed in thought. Logan barely had time to react before Hesh started walking ahead, rifle steady at his side. Logan followed, his steps silent, a practiced hand ready to grip his weapon at a moment’s notice. They had seen stray dogs before—feral, hungry, desperate for survival. But something about this one made them stop.

Maybe it was the way he sat so still, shoulders slumped, head bowed as if the weight of the world had crushed him down into the dirt. Maybe it was the faint, haunting glint in his eyes—something empty, something lost, like the dog had seen too much to ever trust again. Or maybe it was the dog tags hanging loosely from his collar, swinging in the wind, half-buried beneath the grime.

Hesh crouched down, lowering his rifle, his movements slow and deliberate. The dog’s ears twitched at the sound of his approach, but he didn’t snarl, didn’t growl, didn’t back away. He just… stared.

Logan stood back, rifle in hand, his eyes on the dog as Hesh extended his hand toward the collar. The dog made no move to resist—he was too tired, too broken. Hesh’s fingers brushed over the dog’s tags, gently wiping away the dirt to reveal the engraved letters.

The name struck him immediately.

RILEY

The second line made him pause, a soft exhale escaping his lips as his fingers traced the engraved words.

LOYAL TO THE END

"Riley."

The name hung in the air, a weight too heavy for the desolate world around them.

Logan blinked, his mind racing. Riley? That wasn’t a stray dog’s name. That wasn’t the kind of name you gave to something forgotten or abandoned. That was a name meant for someone who mattered, someone cherished. A name that had been given with care, with love, with meaning.

Hesh exhaled, his breath a quiet puff in the silence. His thumb traced the worn edges of the dog tags, rough against his skin. The metal was scratched, dented—scuffed with the wear and tear of time, but still legible. The kind of damage that came with a life lived, not a life discarded.

Someone had loved this dog once. Someone had named him. Someone had cared.

And yet, here he was—alone. Lost in the ruins.

And that look in his eyes? It wasn’t just exhaustion.

It was grief.

Hesh’s could not help but a pang of sympathy gnawing at him. He didn’t know what had happened to Riley, what had brought him to this broken place, but he could see it in the dog’s posture. The slump of his shoulders. The way he sat still, like he was waiting for something—someone—that might never come.

Something twisted inside Hesh’s chest, a silent ache that didn’t belong in a world like this.

Carefully, cautiously, Hesh reached out, his hand hovering for just a moment before it landed on Riley’s head. The dog stiffened at first, body rigid under the touch, but didn’t pull away. His ears twitched, the only sign that he was aware of the warmth that spread from Hesh’s palm, the unfamiliar but not unkind gesture.

"You're Riley, huh?" Hesh murmured, his voice softer now, quieter.

Riley blinked up at him, but didn’t wag his tail. Didn’t show any sign of comfort, but didn’t show fear either. His gaze, distant and unreadable, met Hesh’s for a long moment before shifting back to the ruins—those ruins that had stolen everything.

"What happened to you, boy?" Hesh whispered, fingers running lightly over the dog’s collar. It was old, but sturdy, built to last. The leather was weathered, but well-kept. Someone had taken care of this dog once. Someone had made sure he was protected.

Hesh let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he watched Riley. The world felt heavy around them, as if it was bearing down on them all. He had seen it before—animals discarded, forgotten, left behind in the wake of chaos. But this one… this one was different.

"Someone left him," Hesh muttered, his voice low, as if he was speaking to himself more than Logan.

"Or he lost them." Logan’s voice was steady, quieter than usual, his eyes never leaving the dog.

Riley’s response was a soft, pitiful whine. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t desperate. It was just… aching. The kind of sound that resonated deep in your bones, a sound that said the dog was feeling everything the world had taken from him. Everything he had endured.

Hesh stared at Riley for a long moment, his mouth slightly parted. The air between them hung thick, filled with the weight of everything unsaid.

Finally, he let out a sigh, a long exhale that seemed to release all the tension he hadn’t realized he was holding. He straightened up, his fingers brushing against Riley’s fur one last time. “You’re not alone, boy.”

Hesh nodded, giving the dog a firm pat on the head before standing. "C’mon, bud. You comin’ with us"

Riley didn’t move at first. His eyes flickered between the two men, uncertain, still unsure whether to trust, still wary of the world that had brought him to this place. The pain in his eyes was raw, but there was something else there now—a flicker of hope, a spark of something long buried.

For the first time, Riley moved.

He lifted his head, his gaze locking with Hesh’s for just a moment. Then, without warning, he glanced at Logan, the young man who had stood back, silent but understanding. And as he looked between them, something in his posture shifted—his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, the tension easing.

Slowly, tentatively, Riley’s tail gave a hesitant wag.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t a joyful greeting or a sign of excitement. But it was enough. It was enough to let them know that, for the first time in a long while, the dog was willing to trust again. He wasn’t just a stray anymore. He wasn’t just a creature wandering the ruins. He was Riley—and for whatever reason, these two strangers weren’t strangers anymore.

They saw him.

Hesh and Logan exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. No more words were needed. They had all been through too much to waste time with them.

Hesh extended his hand again, this time offering it not just to Riley but to the bond that was beginning to form—between them, the dog, the broken world around them.

Riley took a step forward. Then another. And as his tail wagged just a little more freely, they all took their first steps toward something new, something uncertain, but something together.

In the silence that followed, it wasn’t just the ruins that felt a little less broken. The world, the future—everything felt a little more hopeful.

WEEEE

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

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

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

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

X teammate reader! [requested]

i had fun writing this

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

Logan walker:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hesh walker:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

bro wanna just let out his frustration 😭

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keegan russ:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thomas merrick:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kick:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"..."

"..."

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

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

How i love pixel arts and the artists...

𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚!

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

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨:𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

words: 1211

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

Logan walker:

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

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

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

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

"LOGAN DON'T!!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIS VOICE WAS SO COMFORT WHEN HE WAS TALKING AND YAPPING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he thought you won't go last here lol

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then he flips you on the floor like a burrito

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

"hey kick where i can find papers?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"..."

"..."

"ok have it"

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

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

Nvm.

me after reading this

When the Smoke Clears

Hesh's thoughts aftermath after Logan gets taken

Horror.

I didn't know how to feel after Elias was killed in front of me with a bullet to his brains. I had watched the way the blood pooled around him, the same blood that was pumping through my veins, through Logan's veins.

Actually...

How was I supposed to react when he told Logan that he was proud of him as his last words? Why not me? Why not us? I had always tried to be a better person by taking care of Logan, I loved him dearly as a brother. I was there for him when dad wasn't.

So why was he given all the credit? What did I miss through the years to not even get a single word of appreciation?

How come the mask was given to him instead? Was I not worthy to inherit it?

Did I not resemble dad enough to even be considered to be given it?

Was I lacking something? Did I try too hard?

I didn't know.

All I knew was that I wanted Logan back. Even if I did envy him a little bit after Elias's death. Sure, I was angry at Rorke for killing him - but I was even angrier that dad never told me that he was proud of me, that he actually cared for me, to tell me that he was glad that I held my ground and gave support even when the world was crumbling around us, Odin.

That I had taken care of Logan when he wasn't there to do it himself. That I had taken the responsibility even if I didn't have to, there was no need to yet I did. My brother looked up more to me than Elias.

So why?

What did I get in return?

Nothing.

Just death.

Just the sight of dad dying and Logan getting taken away from me.

I failed.

I failed to protect both of them.

I failed to be a good soldier.

But most importantly, I failed to he a good big brother.

How could I have been so careless?

How could I have been so sure that Rorke was gone? Dead? How?

I should have known better that Rorke could come crawling back immediately for revenge. I knew how he was, we all knew, so why? Why couldn't I have been more cautious to prevent this?

Why couldn't I have been stronger to go after him?

Why did my body lock up?

Why?

All of these were questions I didn't know the answer to. No matter how much I tried to think, to figure, to solve, I couldn't come across a conclusion.

Besides one.

I wasn't worthy enough to be any of the things I was.

Logan was, he was ruthless, silent. There was a reason why Rorke took him instead of me. He reminded him of Elias - of himself. That same silent courage Logan showed, and I didn't.

I tried, I really did. But I failed.

Was all of my effort for nothing?

So far, it's being proven that way.

No matter how much me and the team are trying, we can't find Logan's location. His last known location was more than half a year ago, who knows where he could be now.

Who even knows if he's still alive or not.

What if he had already been turned into a Fed and was being trained to hunt the rest of the Ghosts down right now?

I don't want to think of it like this, but the dreaded possibility is starting to become a true fact as the days pass.

I don't want to lose Logan, my baby brother. I just can't.

I have already lost dad, and I can't lose Logan, too. Hell, even mom isn't with us anymore. She would have known what to tell me, what to do.

But she isn't here anymore either.

It's just me.

I would have to step up to bat, to be the lone player, and score the point.

To be the one who gets a headshot.

A bullseye.

I've prayed to God, even though my belief in him had been teetering on the edge of completely dissolving. But after everything that happened, I found myself clasping my hands together, on my knees, and mumbling the prayers mom had taught me. After all these years, I still remembered them by heart.

I've prayed for forgiveness, for Logan's health and well-being, that he's still alive, still fighting, still being stubborn to not turn into a Fed.

I don't know what else to do besides pray. I know it's a desprete action, but who else can I go to for help? There's no one here for me.

No one.

God, Logan, please be alive.

I miss you.

We all miss you.

Dont worry, we're all coming for you. We're searching, planning.

And when we do find you, God will, I will fucking kill that motherfucker Rorke and burn the Federation bastards down to the ground. For dad. For all of us Ghosts.

For you.