IS JOY ILLEGAL IN THIS FANDOM??

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

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

Nurse for the Day

Logan walker X fem!reader! [requested!]

summary: Taking care of your sick bf logan, and staying by his side.

notes: SFW, sorry if this short I tried my best

Here he was, trapped in the prison of his own sheets, each breath a delicate negotiation through clogged passages. The flu had settled into his bones like an unwanted houseguest, making itself far too comfortable. His nose, betrayed him with every labored inhale, forcing him to breathe through his mouth in shallow, unsatisfying gasps.

The ceiling had become his unwilling companion, its blank canvas collecting the shadows of his boredom. Four hours? Five? Time had lost all meaning in this fevered state. His throat felt like he'd swallowed broken glass, each attempt to swallow sending sharp reminders of his condition. Even the simple act of sipping water had become an exercise in courage.

The worst part wasn't the physical discomfort—though God knew that was bad enough—but the maddening stillness. The world continued its chaotic dance outside his window while he lay here, a reluctant monk in a monastery of misery.

You slipped into the room, wet cloth in hand, a silent angel in the afternoon light. His face lit up at the sight of you, even through the haze of his fever—though honestly, it was hard to tell if that was love or delirium at this point.

"Babe, I think I'm dying," he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. His eyes were barely open, heavy-lidded and glassy, but still tracking your movement like you were his last hope for salvation.

You just shrugged, going about your careful ministrations. When you reached for his wrist to check his pulse, he seized the moment—and your hand—with all the dramatic flair of a man on his deathbed.

"Yeah, babe, hold my hand before I go"

"Logan, you're not going to die," you sighed, but there was no real exasperation in it. Just the fond weariness of someone who'd signed up for this particular brand of drama when they fell in love.

His fingers intertwined with yours, clammy but determined. A weak smile played across his fever-flushed face. "Of course you know I'm not going to die," he murmured, squeezing your hand. "You're an angel."

The words came out soft and sincere, stripped of his earlier theatrics. Even sick as a dog, he had these moments—these little glimpses of the heart beneath the humor that made you fall in love with him in the first place. You pressed the cool cloth to his forehead, hiding your smile as he leaned into your touch like it was the only medicine he needed.

"Don't let me kiss you here, or you'll get me fever," you warned him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you tended to him. He looked so vulnerable there, wrapped in blankets, his usually bright eyes clouded with fever. The warning came naturally—protecting him was second nature, but protecting yourself from him? That was new.

He watched you through half-closed eyes, and even in his miserable state, the love in his gaze was unmistakable. If anyone had to be sick, he was glad it was him. The thought of you going through this—of you being the one burning up with fever—made his already aching chest tighten further. No, better him than you, gorgeous. Always better him than you.

"You should be out having some fun," he murmured, eyes finally drifting shut as you adjusted the cool cloth on his forehead. His voice was rough, scratchy, but the concern in it was clear as day. Here he was, feeling like death warmed over, and still worrying about you wasting your time.

"And let you suffer alone? No chance." The words came out firm, brooking no argument. You weren't going anywhere, and both of you knew it. Some people might call it stubborn, but this was love in its purest form—staying when it's inconvenient, when it's messy, when someone's used up three boxes of tissues and can't stop complaining about their throat.

His lips quirked up slightly at your response, even as he sank deeper into his pillow. Even sick, he was beautiful to you—fever-flushed cheeks and all. Maybe he looked like a mess, but he was your mess, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

The fever clung to him like a second skin, heat radiating from his body in waves. You pressed the cool, damp cloth against his forehead, feeling the way his skin burned beneath it. His hair was damp with sweat, strands sticking messily to his forehead. Absentmindedly, your fingers combed through them, a quiet attempt at comfort.

His breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling with effort, each inhale shaky, each exhale laced with exhaustion. The dim light in the room cast soft shadows over him, highlighting the hollowness in his cheeks, the way fever had stolen the usual sharpness from his expression.

"Better?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter him completely.

His lips curled into a weak smile, though his eyes remained shut. For a moment, it seemed as though he might actually drift into the sleep his body so desperately needed. But then, with a raspy chuckle, he muttered, "Nah. Kill me, please."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking your head. Even sick, he couldn’t resist the dramatics. You brushed a few more damp strands away from his face, watching as his expression relaxed slightly under your touch.

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

After a week of battling fever and exhaustion, Logan finally felt like himself again. The weight of sickness had lifted, leaving behind a sense of newfound freedom—no more aching muscles, no more suffocating warmth, no more restless, fevered dreams. He stretched his limbs as if testing them, relishing the absence of pain.

Wandering into the room, he found you at your desk, quietly organizing scattered papers and trinkets. The soft sound of shuffling filled the space, your focus entirely on the task at hand. A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you, something warm and unspoken settling in his chest.

Without a word, he stepped forward, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he peered over to see what you were doing. You stilled for a moment but didn’t push him away, allowing his presence to settle against you like something familiar, something missed.

"You’re the best, you know that?" he murmured, voice still slightly rough from the remnants of his illness.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "I kept you alive, at least."

He chuckled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Exactly, angel." Logan turned his head slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the curve of your shoulder.

“And by the way,” you added, tilting your head slightly as his arms remained snug around your waist, “you’re only better because of the medication—not because of me.”

Logan hummed in fake consideration, lips grazing your cheek in lazy, repeated pecks. “Mmm, debatable,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, though a smirk played at your lips. “Oh, please. You barely took them. I had to bribe, threaten, and practically beg you.”

He groaned, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “They taste like absolute shit.”

You scoffed, pulling back just enough to glance at him. “Either you take them, or I put them into you myself.” Your voice carried a teasing warning, but the glint in your eyes said you meant business.

Logan lifted his head, eyes flickering with mischief. “Kinda into that,” he muttered with a smirk.

Before you could react, he grabbed your arms and spun you effortlessly, flipping you around until you were pressed against him, face to face. Your breath hitched as he grinned, mischief painted all over his expression.

Without another word, Logan leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss, you leaned into him, his grip on your arms tightened, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, warm and consuming, and you forgot all about the teasing, the frustrations over the medicine, the playful banter that had filled the room moments before. It was just the two of you—lost in the softness of the moment, the world outside slipping away.

His lips moved against yours with a quiet urgency, as though making up for lost time, a week of illness and silence melting into something sweeter. You responded in kind, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, the touch so familiar, yet still full of that spark that made your heart race.

When the kiss finally broke, you both lingered close, breaths mingling, foreheads resting together as the room fell into a peaceful silence.

“Guess the meds worked after all,” you whispered with a smile, your voice still a little breathless.

Logan chuckled, his nose brushing against yours in that way he always did when he was being affectionate, but still trying to keep things light. “Yeah, well, I'd be a gooner if it weren't you"

You laughed softly, and he pulled you back into a tighter hold, All that matter is that your sweet boy is alright and breathing.

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.

merrick calling rorke secretly

merrick: rorke this is not fucking funny bring the kid back

rorke: no.

merrick: FUCK YOU MEAN NO?YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT?

merrick: AND WHY THE FUCK IS KICK ON THE SAME LINE WITH US??

man legends never die hit haawwdd

why does every blog I try to follow in this fandom do nothing but act like little kids, can y'all handle your shit in private or quit using general tags? nobody wants to see your negativity

I can't hold my shit bro i have diarrhea

lmao edited and added more in this post

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶ 𝐊𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 (yeah im a writer just wait for my exams to be done and i will be unstoppable🙏🏻yall will be spoiled)

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

IDC i see him as a twitch streamer if he isn't in the military

this dude is locked in in games that he played like no joke

"SHUT UP im not a hacker" that what he would see in his chat while playing shooting game and be winning everytime

i feel like his chat is sassy with him and like to tease him and provoke him but like hell he would care to them

he is that dude that has no idea how he got famous (it's clear)

THIS MAN WOULD STARE AT THE SCREEN BLANKLY IF HE GET THE BEST TWITCH STREAMER AWARD

then he would turn his head smoothly at his chat typing aggressively 'what the fuck! dude you won!!'

then he say "what is that suppose to mean..." trailing off looking at his chat STARING BLANKLY

and the next day he will keep streaming like nothing happened

he won't mod anyone in his chat not a single person idk why but i see him

and his chat be begging for it

"shut up Kicko_left_nipple im not gonna mod ya"

he is that kind that say "yeah ban this dude" "ban whoever said that" "let's get {user} banned on every social media to have ever existed back and forward" help this is caseoh coded

he would be pissed off if someone actually tricked him by some kind of moves in games and it turned out to be fake

lets get into emotions...

first off he would chuckle this dark and short one if the chat type something funny or bully him

like this man will just sit on his chair comfortably smirking at his chat slightly loving how some people got this nerve to bully him

or...write 'juicy' confessions...

like the first time happened to him he is eyes widened at this message in his chat saying how she want him to dominate the shit out of her till the morning and more and more

like he was playing peacefully and yapping with smile then his eyes falls on his chat and he wish he didn't

HIS SMILE DROPPED WITH WIDENED EYES looking at his chat especially the message "..."

and chat be typing 'WHAT IS WRONG WITH DUDE!' 'LMAO'

"....yeah good stream chat..."

and boom the stream turned off

then after he get famous he will get like a lot and will shrug them off not caring because this loser doesnt know how to reply to them

"so you're in yalls basements simping over me? ok good" he's not complaining

mf will get shocked if he gets one from boys bye

he is that type of gamer that if a sad scene showed up like everyone cried over it he would just look at his screen blankly not a single emotion showing

while his chat is crying

and when the sad scene ended he keep staring at his screen blankly then continue playing like nothing happened

oh lord i can imagine him looking so good with his clothes imagine the black top on him reflecting every damn muscle he has? drooling

his hand is so big while his face has these sharp features HELLO with his eyes skjdhflzsiudhgfiluseghl

fan fact kick has amber eyes fight me

with his black hair fight me (he's bald XD)

like this dude is so pretty but we cant see that enough

anyway heading to the emotions one will he get angry if he lose?

no but if the game is too hard for him he will complain so bad like

"NAH GET THIS GAME BANNED ON EVERY UNIVERSE WHAT IS THIS??" he said while pointing at his screen angrily

dont let this dude play elden ring oh no

unfortunately he did and played and this dude was pissed at the fact he lost with the same boss 23434 times

then he had enough as he lost for the 43439th time again

this dude would chuckle sarcastically "wow haha" then he would change his mood with anger as he hit his hard fist on the desk breaking the cam

"GOOD STREAM CHAT" he would yell

not gonna lie but he would block merrick and ghosts fellas like he feel embarrassed a bit and shy that his fellas see him gaining money from streaming :(

but since logan is a mute character he would forget abt him and he didn't block him so logan would tease him and suddenly appear in his chat with 'logan-walker' user typing and sayin yo and typing in his chat like he is on of his followers

KICK WOULD SWALLOW HIS THROAT AS HE SAW HIS USER AND CONTINUE PLAYING

"so...heading to the next mission yeah.."

LOGAN WOULD WATCH WITH A SMIRK

like he would think how this quite kid had an interest in these stuffs like him

would he show his gf?uhm..at first he wasnt sure tbh

once he decided to do some fun things trying to talk with strangers on omegle then he met a fan girl

"omg kick is that you??!" she would slightly scream as she saw him in front of her on her screen

"in the flesh" he would say simply with a smile resting on the back of his chair comfortably

"oh my god!! can we you know...f***?" remember we listen and we don't judge 🙏🏻

the fucker has the nerve to chuckle at her shamelessly

"nah sorry we can't i have a girlfriend" he would say still resting on his chair

THE GIRL WOULD BE SAD

would he simp over female characters? yeah like his fav mortal kombat character is sonya whenever she shows up he say "yeah step on me"

be cautious spicy down there

this mf would wear short sleeves top showing his muscle arms especially above the elbow...

he would be such an ass and groan as he show them pretending to be tired from gaming

hadn't any idea that he killed people by that

ok bye this got so long

―୨୧⋆ ˚ don't forget to join the discord server for cod ghosts fans!

https://discord.gg/25YpWJN4fk

Linkin park is so logan. bye.

so cute

Hi! <3

I really love your artwork, especially the ones featuring CPL Dunn—he's my favorite character! I wanted to ask for your permission before using one of your pieces as my pfp on another social media platform, Totally understand if you’d prefer otherwise—just wanted to check first!

Of course dear!! Thank you so so much diyskshs

Anyone and everyone can use my art as profile pictures, edits even (even do i dont think its on THAT LEVEL of art heheha). I really dont mind, use as you like!

u know what makes me lowkey sad? when someone says ‘i know it seems silly’ before talking about something they clearly care very deeply about bc u know that means someone gave them shit for caring that much about that thing before which is Fucked Up.

It is impossible to a fandom be this broke

literally cod ghosts fandom:

Last scene they are fighting over a digital art.