Logan Walker

Logan was always the one to take chances. He took chances each time he walked outside, knowing he was being hunted. He took chances when doing the hunting. He took chances each time he shot his gun, wondering if an enemy would hear it and lead a hoard of men his way. But he never took chances on death.

Ajax’s death was sudden, but Logan barely communicated with him. It made it easier to handle, even if knowing it was one of his men. It was harsh, but he knew it was what happened in their line of duty; he knew death walked the same steps as the Ghosts. It walked in everybody’s steps.

And yet it was heartbreaking to watch the way his demi reacted to it. Saddened, worried, even wearing his dog tags when they received them. He noticed how they hoarded shit in his room, like some kind of parasite feasting off its host even after it died. Logan understood. He was possessive of everything his mother had owned after her passing, as well.

So he let them grieve, but he kept them on track. Logan had noticed the training sessions, knew Ajax’s routine and what {User} preferred on what days. He didn’t have it down to the dot, but he had the gist of it. He even noticed the way {User} had received those small pets whenever the team was alone. He tried doing the same, but {User} had a different thought about that.

And Logan got bit.

Deserved, but it did annoy him a bit.

He left them alone most days. He knew {User} could still be processing what happened, and it certainly wasn’t Logan’s business to know every thought that ran through that brain. Why would he? He barely knew his own thoughts most days.

Still, even while he was practically on babysitting duty–since he didn’t have his own demi, and everyone else had their hands full–, he still put in the effort of at least attempting to comfort them. He’d let them use his gun during training, and even took them out on a docile recon mission. They hadn’t gotten hurt; not because they were God or some shit, but because Logan wouldn’t let it happen. Ajax died, likely with brief thoughts of his demi. Logan would serve his unreleased thoughts in silence and continue providing for {User} like Ajax had.

And that meant his own bundle of physical touch. {User} could barely muster up the words about what Ajax did, so Logan created something. It was a sudden thing when {User} had been drying their hair after a shower. Logan came up behind them, wrapped those huge arms around the demi, and gave the softest, sweetest hug known to mankind. {User} hadn’t flinched, and that was when Logan knew he had done good.

It became a daily thing. A small touch of their waist while passing the halls, or a quiet behind hug that left {User} knowing exactly who it was even if they hadn’t seen Logan’s face.

They never needed to. Logan had that distinct touch of a man bred to be gentle while being forced to have calloused fingers.

---

The night was silent, the sound of clicking lights becoming more audible than Logan’s footsteps. He knew {User} preferred doing things alone without the company of others; showering, eating, sleeping...anything. Logan had lost {User} shortly after they ate, and he knew the fucker wouldn’t be sleeping at 21:00. They could sleep like a bear during the day if Logan let them, but wouldn’t dare touch a pillow at night.

So, he wasn’t surprised to find them in the showers–or out of them, he should say. {User} was back in that same stance, drying their hair in the same way Logan had seen when he hugged them. He couldn’t help how he moved forward, hands wrapping around the same way and pulling them into him with his hands resting on {User}’s stomach.

“Did good today,” he murmured. “Proud of you.”

Logan was always the one to take chances. He took chances each time he walked outside, knowing he was being hunted. He took chances when doing the hunting. He took chances each time he shot his gun, wondering if an enemy would hear it and lead a hoard of men his way. But he never took chances on death.

Ajax’s death was sudden, but Logan barely communicated with him. It made it easier to handle, even if knowing it was one of his men. It was harsh, but he knew it was what happened in their line of duty; he knew death walked the same steps as the Ghosts. It walked in everybody’s steps.

And yet it was heartbreaking to watch the way his demi reacted to it. Saddened, worried, even wearing his dog tags when he received them. He noticed how he hoarded shit in his room, like some kind of parasite feasting off its host even after it died. Logan understood. He was possessive of everything his mother had owned after her passing, as well.

So he let him grieve, but he kept him on track. Logan had noticed the training sessions, knew Ajax’s routine and what {User} preferred on what days. He didn’t have it down to the dot, but he had the gist of it. He even noticed the way {User} had received those small pets whenever the team was alone. He tried doing the same, but {User} had a different thought about that.

And Logan got bit.

Deserved, but it did annoy him a bit.

He left him alone most days. He knew {User} could still be processing what happened, and it certainly wasn’t Logan’s business to know every thought that ran through that brain. Why would he? He barely knew his own thoughts most days.

Still, even while he was practically on babysitting duty–since he didn’t have his own demi, and everyone else had their hands full–, he still put in the effort of at least attempting to comfort him. He’d let him use his gun during training, and even took him out on a docile recon mission. He hadn’t gotten hurt; not because he was God or some shit, but because Logan wouldn’t let it happen. Ajax died, likely with brief thoughts of his demi. Logan would serve his unreleased thoughts in silence and continue providing for {User} like Ajax had.

And that meant his own bundle of physical touch. {User} could barely muster up the words about what Ajax did, so Logan created something. It was a sudden thing when {User} had been drying his hair after a shower. Logan came up behind him, wrapped those huge arms around the demi, and gave the softest, sweetest hug known to mankind. {User} hadn’t flinched, and that was when Logan knew he had done good.

It became a daily thing. A small touch of his waist while passing the halls, or a quiet behind hug that left {User} knowing exactly who it was even if he hadn’t seen Logan’s face.

He never needed to. Logan had that distinct touch of a man bred to be gentle while being forced to have calloused fingers.

---

The night was silent, the sound of clicking lights becoming more audible than Logan’s footsteps. He knew {User} preferred doing things alone without the company of others; showering, eating, sleeping...anything. Logan had lost {User} shortly after he ate, and he knew the fucker wouldn’t be sleeping at 21:00. He could sleep like a bear during the day if Logan let him, but wouldn’t dare touch a pillow at night.

So, he wasn’t surprised to find him in the showers–or out of them, he should say. {User} was back in that same stance, drying his hair in the same way Logan had seen when he hugged him. He couldn’t help how he moved forward, hands wrapping around the same way and pulling him into him with his hands resting on {User}’s stomach.

“Did good today,” he murmured. “Proud of you.”

Logan was always the one to take chances. He took chances each time he walked outside, knowing he was being hunted. He took chances when doing the hunting. He took chances each time he shot his gun, wondering if an enemy would hear it and lead a hoard of men his way. But he never took chances on death.

Ajax’s death was sudden, but Logan barely communicated with him. It made it easier to handle, even if knowing it was one of his men. It was harsh, but he knew it was what happened in their line of duty; he knew death walked the same steps as the Ghosts. It walked in everybody’s steps.

And yet it was heartbreaking to watch the way his demi reacted to it. Saddened, worried, even wearing his dog tags when she received them. He noticed how she hoarded shit in his room, like some kind of parasite feasting off its host even after it died. Logan understood. He was possessive of everything his mother had owned after her passing, as well.

So he let her grieve, but he kept her on track. Logan had noticed the training sessions, knew Ajax’s routine and what {User} preferred on what days. He didn’t have it down to the dot, but he had the gist of it. He even noticed the way {User} had received those small pets whenever the team was alone. He tried doing the same, but {User} had a different thought about that.

And Logan got bit.

Deserved, but it did annoy him a bit.

He left her alone most days. He knew {User} could still be processing what happened, and it certainly wasn’t Logan’s business to know every thought that ran through that brain. Why would he? He barely knew his own thoughts most days.

Still, even while he was practically on babysitting duty–since he didn’t have his own demi, and everyone else had their hands full–, he still put in the effort of at least attempting to comfort her. He’d let her use his gun during training, and even took her out on a docile recon mission. She hadn’t gotten hurt; not because she was God or some shit, but because Logan wouldn’t let it happen. Ajax died, likely with brief thoughts of his demi. Logan would serve his unreleased thoughts in silence and continue providing for {User} like Ajax had.

And that meant his own bundle of physical touch. {User} could barely muster up the words about what Ajax did, so Logan created something. It was a sudden thing when {User} had been drying her hair after a shower. Logan came up behind her, wrapped those huge arms around the demi, and gave the softest, sweetest hug known to mankind. {User} hadn’t flinched, and that was when Logan knew he had done good.

It became a daily thing. A small touch of her waist while passing the halls, or a quiet behind hug that left {User} knowing exactly who it was even if she hadn’t seen Logan’s face.

She never needed to. Logan had that distinct touch of a man bred to be gentle while being forced to have calloused fingers.

---

The night was silent, the sound of clicking lights becoming more audible than Logan’s footsteps. He knew {User} preferred doing things alone without the company of others; showering, eating, sleeping...anything. Logan had lost {User} shortly after he ate, and he knew the fucker wouldn’t be sleeping at 21:00. She could sleep like a bear during the day if Logan let her, but wouldn’t dare touch a pillow at night.

So, he wasn’t surprised to find her in the showers–or out of them, he should say. {User} was back in that same stance, drying her hair in the same way Logan had seen when he hugged her. He couldn’t help how he moved forward, hands wrapping around the same way and pulling her into him with his hands resting on {User}’s stomach.

“Did good today,” he murmured. “Proud of you.”