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Call Of Duty Ghosts - Blog Posts
*sigh* okay imma let out my cursed pics from the studio
The walker training
None of my business but imma getting my nose in it, I've always thought that elias forced hesh and logan for training and etc i mean sure it is nasty how training is, but then i remember when hesh said
"Dad always said we could quit at any time, and go grab some fast food, and pig out in front of the TV all night."
But help why i think elias said it in a way that would let them think as losers if they stopped training and lived a normal life😭😭
The urge to write about Sir David Walker burns like an unshakable fire.
Knight! hesh!
MDNI
A knight of unwavering loyalty, he carries himself with the noble grace of a natural-born leader. Time after time, as he removes his iron helmet, the details of his face come into sharper focus. His pale skin contrasts strikingly with the deep green of his eyes, and as the strands of his jet-black hair fall free, they frame his features with an almost effortless elegance. Each glimpse of him without the armor only reveals more of the man beneath—the warrior, the leader, the legend.
Each time he kneels before the king, one hand pressed firmly over his heart, it is as if he is making an unspoken vow—one of unwavering sacrifice, of blood and sweat pledged to whatever land he stands upon. His voice, low and steady, carries the weight of his devotion, each word dripping with formal reverence and gratitude. There is no hesitation, no faltering; only the ironclad promise of a knight who lives and breathes duty.
But then, with a voice like silk, you summon him to the king’s chambers. He approaches with the grace of a knight, but the moment his eyes meet yours, his entire demeanor shifts. His green eyes, once steady and fierce, now lower in respect, his body instinctively dropping to one knee before you, his hand over his heart in silent oath.
“Your grace,” he says, his voice unwavering yet soft, as if to show no weakness.
You lead him forward, your steps deliberate. He follows—trusting, obedient—until the door shuts behind him with a cold, final click.
He freezes.
His eyes flicker to the door, then back to you, realization dawning in his chest like a heavy weight. This isn’t the king’s room. This is yours.
A rush of fear surges through him, and for a fleeting moment, he is lost—unsure, afraid of what might unfold. He tries to mask it, standing tall, shoulders stiff, as if the knight within him could withstand whatever shadow looms in this room. But the tremor in his breath betrays him.
“Your grace,” he murmurs again, more softly now, his voice cracking with the first hint of doubt, “there must be a mistake. This...is not the majesy's chamber.”
He had endured countless wars, his body marked with scars from swords and battles fought. But this—this was something he had never prepared for. The weight of his loyalty, the trust he had sworn to the king, was a code he would never break. And yet, here, in this room with you, the line between duty and desire blurred.
He could feel the tension coiling in his chest, a knot of fear and respect warring within him. He knew what you wanted. He knew what you were offering. But this was not a challenge he had ever faced before. Behind the king’s back, it felt like treason. His loyalty was a chain, binding him to honor, to the trust that had been placed in him. And yet, in the face of your advances, that chain felt suffocating.
“Your grace, please...” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly masked it, forcing himself back into formality. His hands trembled, but they remained at his sides, trying not to betray the turmoil in his heart. “This is... beyond my duty. This is a step I cannot take.”
You were so close now. He could feel the heat of your presence, the whisper of your breath against his skin. And then, it happened. You kissed his cheek—soft, gentle pecks—tracing his jawline with delicate affection. His body stiffened at the touch. His breath caught in his throat, his mind screaming to pull away, to step back. But respect, honor, duty—they all held him in place, even as his heart raced.
“I... I cannot,” he whispered, his voice strained, desperate to remain the knight he had always been. His eyes closed for a moment, trying to block out the overwhelming presence of your proximity. “Please, my lady... I cannot touch you. Not like this. It would dishonor my place, the king’s trust... my oath.”
Even as he said it, the struggle was evident in the tension of his muscles, the way his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the lines of loyalty and respect were drawn too firmly for him to ignore. Yet his body, betraying him in its every moment of restraint, could not help but tremble at the closeness, at the kiss that lingered too long, too near.
You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the strain in his every movement. His honor, his oath—it was all he had, all he was. But you could feel the weight of your desires, pulling you closer to him, drawing you into this forbidden game.
“Don’t fight it, David,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against his ear. You reached out, brushing a lock of his black hair away, letting your fingers linger against his skin. “I know you want this. I know you feel it too.”
His body trembled, his every instinct screaming for him to pull away, to retreat. But you were relentless, your hands tracing his jawline, your fingertips grazing the steel of his armor, so close—so close to touching the man beneath. His breath hitched, and the words that escaped his lips were nothing more than a breathless murmur.
“Please... my lady...” His voice was low, almost desperate, but his eyes never left the floor. “This is... I cannot—”
You cut him off, your hand now gently resting against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You think I don't see the way your body betrays you?” you purred, inching closer until your lips were almost on his. “I know what you want. I know how this feels for you.”
He flinched, a quick, sharp movement, as though your touch burned him, and yet there was a part of him—no matter how much he fought it—that wanted to stay. Wanted to let go of the chains of duty and fall into the heat of the moment with you. But this... this wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he had been trained. He was a knight—loyal, honorable, untouched by such temptations.
“I cannot...” His words faltered again, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Not like this. I’m sworn... I am sworn to the king. To my vows.”
“You think I don’t know that?” You smirked, your voice dripping with both amusement and longing. Your hands slid across his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the fabric. “But I also know what you truly crave, David. You don't need to be a knight for this... not with me.”
His body recoiled, every muscle taut with resistance, but his mind was fighting a battle he had never known. The voice inside him screamed to pull away, to hold onto his duty, but there was something else—a new, unfamiliar ache that surged within him every time your fingers brushed his skin, every time you closed the distance between you.
“Please,” he whispered, his voice a raw plea as he struggled to back away, to put space between you. But the room was too small, the door locked. There was no escape. No way out. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
“You think you can just walk away from this?” you whispered, your hand sliding from his chest to his neck, fingers gently curling around his jaw as you tilted his head up. His body trembled beneath your touch, but still, he couldn’t find the strength to stop you. His green eyes darted to yours, full of uncertainty, a silent plea for mercy. He didn’t know how to say no—not to you, not to the heat building between you both.
“Let me show you, David,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his as you leaned in closer, your hands tugging at his armor, loosening it just enough to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. “Let me show you that surrender isn’t weakness... it’s freedom.”
His breath was ragged, the knight’s resolve breaking piece by piece, and yet, in the back of his mind, the training, the vows, screamed at him to resist. But his body—his body told a different story. He had never been in a situation like this. He didn’t know how to pull away anymore. The lines had blurred, the honor he had spent years protecting now felt like a distant echo, drowned out by the weight of your touch and the unspoken promise in your eyes.
Then, it happened.
As if your touch was the spark to a flame that had been smoldering too long, you closed the space between you, your lips finally meeting his in a kiss that was both gentle and forceful, tentative yet inevitable. For a moment, Hesh was frozen, his body rigid, fighting every instinct he had ever known. His mind screamed to pull away, to hold onto the duty that had defined him for so long.
But your lips were soft, persistent, and he couldn't deny the pull. His heart raced in a chaotic rhythm that mirrored the storm of emotions inside him. He wanted to resist, but with each press of your lips against his, a part of him crumbled. His hands twitched, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, and he felt the weight of it—every hesitation, every unspoken word.
And then, something inside him gave.
His hands, once clenched tight, finally reached for you, trembling at first, then firmer, as though the walls of his resolve were falling. He could taste the hesitation in the kiss, the battle between loyalty and desire, but it was too much—too overwhelming. His lips parted, and he kissed you back, not as a knight, but as a man. A man who had never known this kind of hunger, this kind of need.
The kiss was more than just a meeting of lips; it was a crossing of boundaries, a surrender to something neither of you could fully control. His body reacted instinctively, pulling you closer, his hands finding their way to your waist, his breath shallow against your skin as he fought to regain his composure.
But it was too late. The moment had taken root, and nothing in the world could undo it. He had crossed the line, and there was no going back.
how i feel after writing this
this shit rocks actually because im ovulating
IS JOY ILLEGAL IN THIS FANDOM??
Now I'm wondering, sure, they got Ajax's body back to bury, did they get Elias's too? They were in enemy territory, after all.
He caused a tsunami btw
literally died while making these
Gang doesn't know I fw this ost
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.
u will be missed lo
Forsaken
Logans POV from the Pit
One - The beginning, or the aftermath?
Just when he thought that everything was alright, that everything was over and done with, that they had got their revenge and justice for all those people that had died, for Ajax - it all crumbled down in one minute
Rorke.
How the fuck did he survive?
He remembered Hesh had smashed his skull with a fire extinguisher, he himself had shot him straight in the chest with a twisting speeding bullet, and Rorke was drowned in water almost an instance after the glass broke. How could he survive?
Maybe this is why Rorke was such a dangerous Ghost. Keyword, was. He was no longer a Ghost, he had lost that title a long time ago when he had betrayed the squad. Elias had told him.
But why did he come back even if he did survive all that? Why was he so intent on taking him? Why not his brother? Why not both of them? Shouldn't Rorke have just run back to whatever hole he came out from and went back into hiding and recover from that hit? So why? Why did he take him with him despite everything?
Did he really remind Rorke that much of Elias?
────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────
Two - The Silent Mind
He abruptly coughed dryly as the thoughts in his mind swirled around, lying on his side, choking for those few seconds as he gasped for air.
Eventually, the coughing fit of a storm calmed down - not without leaving tears in his eyes, that is.
He was dehydrated. Thirsty and starving. Weak and frail. His throat felt like it was burning, an irritating tightness being felt as the reflex to cough kept attacking him over and over again like raining bullets. Like a thorn was lodged in his throat, and he couldn't get it out, an endless cycle.
He weakly shifted his head from the side-laying position to look up, eyes bleary. All he could see was that same old metal wire barrier between him and the outside world. It was dark outside, the dark looming trees blocking out any sort of excess moonlight as they silently wavered in the breeze, the scent of all sorts of vegetation and dark mushy wet soil wafting down to him.
It was quiet, too quiet.
Too peaceful. Like the calm after a storm. Expect, he was in the storm still.
He would have used this time to take a moment to collect his thoughts and maybe even get some rest - if only it weren't for the fact that pipes were all up his ass, to clense his bowels, and the dirt ground was crawling with insects. He couldn't lay down even a second without hearing the sounds of those fucking teeny tiny legs scittering and scattering around. It grossed him out, even if those things couldn't exactly hurt him. His limbs were tied, keeping him in place with no way to move around into a better position to avoid the bugs on the ground. Zero proper blood circulation, so he felt tense and tight in place.
He was literally kissing the filt on the floor, even if it was just the side of his face. It smelled like shit, like grime. He really wished he didn't have the sense to smell right now. Didn't it smell worse because one of the Fed's took a piss on him?
Well—not on him, more like near where he was placed. He couldn't remember exactly, though. His mind was fogged up.
He knew this wasn't even the beginning of what he would have to go through. All he knew was that his brother and the entire Ghost Team were coming to save him. They wouldn't leave him behind, now would they? He was sure that they were currently trying to track down his location. Maybe they had already found it and were making a plan to attack - though that was probably a stretch.
He reminded himself to relax, to not get too hopeful or excited. It had only been a couple of months, right? He wasn't too sure as to how much time had passed, but he knew it had a long time judging by the amount of weight and muscle mass he had lost. He knew his hands would be all shaky if he was told to hold a rilfe, hell, even the same pistol he used to shoot Rorke would have the same result.
If he was given a mirror, he knew that he wouldn't even be recognizable...would his brother even recognize him after all this? Would he have changed that much?
He tried not to think about the bad parts too intently. He knew the team was working on his case, after all...
No Ghost ever got left behind.
────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────
Three - Denial and Acceptance
Hesh?
Is...is that you?
He couldn't believe it
After so long, he had finally been found
Finally. Finally he would be given freedom and be reunited with the only family he had left. He would tell them all about what the Feds had done to him and they'll all help burn the place down, first was getting him to safety
He waited in the hole patiently, his heart pounding in anticipation. He waited, his body language tense and trembling in faint happiness. He knew he had heard his brother's voice, he swore he also heard that same rumble of Keegan's voice in line with Hesh's.
So, where were they?
His head was spinning as his back slumped against the dirt wall after waiting in place for 10 minutes. Did they lose his trail? Did they retreat? Did they get caught? What happened? There was no way they would leave him here.
No.
No, they weren't like that
Had he been dreaming about them?
No, it couldn't be. It felt too vivid, their voices, to be fake. He hadn't lost his sanity that much, right? Right. There was no way...
...then why would the voices suddenly disappear when he paid attention to them and expected something to happen?
He started to repeat the names of all the Ghosts to himself, mumbling silently from his bloody and cracked lips as his hands clasped together in almost a last attempt of desperation - as if he was praying. The memories of everyone he had flooding his mind like a tidal wave, the more notable memories featuring him and Hesh in the past, before they got into any of this, this whole mess. They had wanted to become something, not immediate soliders. But when Hesh joined, thanks to their dad, he also found himself joining, wanting to follow his brother...
If only he knew that he would be ending up here. And probably end up losing his brother, too. He had already lost his dad due to this job. Who else did he have to lose? Hell, even Ajax was dead. So, who was next? Him?
No.
They wouldn't kill him. He knew Rorke wanted him to himself. That man himself said he wasn't going to let him be a Ghost, ever.
Truly, he wanted to die. To kill himself to end all of this. But he didn't. His brother kept him alive. The idea that survival and freedom were still on the plate for him kept him alive. Even if it was slowly starting to slip away from his fingertips.
Qestion was, how long could he maintain this for before Rorke ripped his mind apart from the very stem and took a look inside to see what he could tweak and eliminate.
Could Rorke really make him forget who he was? He didn't want to believe it. But he knew what the Fed's were capable of. If someone like Rorke lost his way, there was no doubt that someone like him would have the same fate.
Question was how long his stubbornness could keep him going. Question was how long he could resist the Federation's advances. Question was how long he could hold on to his identity.
Hopefully, the name "Logan Walker" wouldn't become a former.
Hopefully, it wouldn't become a lost identity.
If merrick had mistaken who is the elias's ghost mask for merrick: oh man for who?...i think it is for hesh cuase he is the oldest!
hand it to hesh
elias in his grave cause he is biased for logan:
my new pfp, pls don't take em (literally post it)
he is driving like the brakes are optional
Keegan hand the keys over
YO WATCH OUT WATCH OUT
The way this game ended with us giving expectations to what would happen to logan is suffocating
there might be differing opinions as to who the most tortured cod character is but i think logan walker is a pretty strong contender. he lost his mother when he was a child, lost his home at 15, went to war, was unable to save his father and had to watch him get murdered in front of his eyes. he was kidnapped by the man who killed his dad and probably went through horrors beyond human comprehension at the hands of the federation and is forced to fight his old teammates, his own brother, maybe even believing they abandoned him. and we never even found out what happened to him in the end. logan walker has never known peace, he's such a tragic and tortured character, and i love him so much.
Ladies and gentlemen let's appreciate these mfs beauty
quickly before someone see us
please ma'am take care of my keed he is autistic
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶
When logan start seeing hesh as another parental figure
Idea: @tokillamockingbird427
Logan never really said it out loud. He never had to.
what if rorke didn't kidnapped logan even after elias death (me literally put a gif when rorke dragged logan)
But in the quiet moments, in the spaces between warzones and exhaustion, it was there—buried in the way he followed just half a step behind Hesh, in the way his eyes flicked toward his brother for silent reassurance, in the way he trusted him without hesitation, without question.
It wasn’t something he ever thought about. Not consciously, anyway. But then, their father was gone. Elias Walker—dead.
And suddenly, there was this gap in Logan’s world, a hollow ache where guidance used to be, where security once stood.
And Hesh—Hesh filled it. Not because he had to, not because anyone asked him to, but because he just did
જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Moments That Made Logan Realize
1. The First Time He Caught Hesh Watching Over Him
It was after a mission gone wrong, their bodies sore, exhaustion pressing down on them.
Logan had drifted off, too tired to move, but something made him stir in the middle of the night.
He blinked blearily, adjusting to the dim light of the safe house—only to see Hesh, sitting awake, rifle across his lap, gaze fixed on the door. Standing guard with riley laying in front of him sleepy.
At first, Logan thought it was nothing. Just instinct, just training.
But then he noticed the way Hesh’s fingers curled against his knee, the way his jaw was locked tight like he was forcing himself to stay awake.
Because he needed to make sure Logan was safe.
Logan didn’t say anything. He just turned over, swallowed the lump in his throat, and let himself fall back asleep—because for the first time in a long time, he could.
2. The Night Logan Almost Broke, and Hesh Held Him Together
They didn’t talk about him. About their dad.
But some nights, it was too much.
Logan wasn’t much for words, wasn’t great at explaining the weight pressing against his ribs.
But Hesh noticed. He always noticed.
One night, when Logan thought he was alone, he let himself feel it—that overwhelming, suffocating loss.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven.
And then—Hesh was just there. No questions, no prying. Just a firm, steady hand on his shoulder.
A quiet, grounding voice: “Hey. I got you.”
Logan let out a shaky breath, nodding once. He didn’t need to say anything.
Because Hesh already understood.
3. When Hesh Took Responsibility Like It Was His Birthright
Hesh started doing things he never used to—small things, barely noticeable unless you were really paying attention.
He made sure Logan ate but not telling him in a pleading way like a mom.
He double-checked Logan’s gear before missions, subtly making adjustments, tightening straps, checking ammo.
And when Logan got hurt? When blood stained his uniform and pain clouded his vision?
Hesh’s voice was the one calling out orders, pushing through the chaos.
“Stay with me, Lo. You’re gonna be fine.”
And somehow, somehow, Logan believed him.
4. Hesh – More Than Just a Brother
Hesh had always looked out for him, but after Elias was gone, something changed.
He didn’t just see himself as Logan’s brother—he became something more. A protector. A leader.
Late one night, when Logan couldn’t sleep, he found Hesh outside, sitting against one of the Humvees, staring at the stars.
Logan sat next to him without a word.
After a long silence, Hesh finally muttered, “I don’t know if I’m doing this right.”
Logan looked at him. “What?”
“Taking care of you.” Hesh exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Dad knew what to say. What to do. I just— I don’t know.”
Logan swallowed, something heavy settling in his chest. “You don’t have to be him.”
Hesh let out a small, humorless chuckle. “Feels like I do.”
Logan nudged him. “You’re already doing more than enough.”
Hesh didn’t say anything. But after a moment, he reached over and ruffled Logan’s hair, just like when they were kids.
but logan didn't like it giving him a look "dude what the fuck?" asking him with hesh just chuckling with his dripping voice, Walking back to the room leaving logan outside wondering.
જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Childhood moments
1. The Time Hesh Punched a Kid for Messing with Logan
Logan was maybe six, Hesh eight. They were at the park, kicking a ball around when some older kid decided to shove Logan to the ground (obv there is no reason cuz i wanna make logan the main character and everyone wanna mess with him lol)
“Stay down, loser.” the kid said.
Logan, small but stubborn, pushed himself up, dirt on his hands, eyes flicking to Hesh before he could react.
And Hesh? Hesh was already moving.
One second, the kid was smirking. The next? He was on the ground.
Hesh stood over him, fists clenched. "Touch my brother again, and I’ll bury ya in the sandbox."
Logan’s eyes went wide. "DAD SAID WE CAN’T FIGHT."
Hesh glanced at him, still fuming. "Yeah, well, Dad’s not here right now."
Of course, Elias did find out.
That night, they sat on the couch, waiting for their discussion with elias since the parents of the kid complained to him about what happened.
Elias apologized to them and comfort them that will never happen again.
Elias sighed, rubbing his face. “Hesh, you can’t just go around punching people.”
"But he shoved Logan!"
Elias looked at Logan, then back at Hesh. “…Did you win?”
Hesh grinned. "Obviously."
Elias sighed again, shaking his head. “Just—next time, use your words, son.”
"What if words don’t work?" oh my god him and his unstoppable questions.
Elias gave him a look. "Then throw the second punch harder than the first."
2. The Night Hesh Snuck into Logan’s Room After a Bad Storm
Logan always pretended storms didn’t bother him. Even when the thunder shook the house, even when lightning flashed against the walls.
He wanted to be tough, like Hesh.
But one night, when a particularly bad storm rolled in, Logan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to flinch at every rumble.
Then—his door creaked open.
Hesh, dragging his blanket behind him, plopped onto the floor next to Logan’s bed without a word.
Logan frowned. “What are you doing?”
Hesh shrugged. “Storm’s loud.”
Logan didn’t call him out on it, just rolled over so he wasn’t facing the window.
A few minutes passed before Hesh nudged him. “You awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Think Dad’s scared of storms?”
Logan snorted. “No.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
The next time the thunder cracked, Logan didn’t flinch. Because Hesh was already there.
3. The Fishing Trip That Turned into a Disaster
Elias had this idea to take them fishing. “It’ll be fun,” he said. “A good experience,” he promised.
Spoiler: it was a mess.
Hesh, overconfident as ever, insisted he could bait his own hook—then immediately got tangled in the line.
Logan, trying to help, somehow managed to knock their entire tackle box into the water.
Elias, holding onto the last shred of his patience, just rubbed his temples. “I swear to God, you two are worse than a pair of puppies.”
They did eventually catch a fish—but Hesh freaked out when it started flopping in the boat.
"DAD IT'S ALIVE?!"
Logan, not helpful at all: "GRAB IT!"
Hesh: "WITH WHAT HANDS, LOGAN?!"
Elias, laughing so hard he could barely breathe, finally grabbed it himself and tossed it back. "Remind me never to take you two hunting."
4. The Time Logan Got Lost, and Hesh Found Him First
They were at a fair when Logan wandered off. One second, Hesh was buying a drink, the next—Logan was just gone.
Panic set in fast. Hesh, barely ten years old, felt something cold and tight squeeze his chest.
Elias was already asking around, staying calm, focused. But Hesh? He ran.
He pushed past crowds, calling Logan’s name, heart hammering in his chest.
And then—
He found him. Sitting on a bench, small hands gripping the edge, looking so lost.
Hesh sprinted up, skidding to a stop. “Logan!”
Logan looked up, relief flooding his face right before Hesh pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.
“Don’t do that again, dumbass.” His voice was shaking. “I thought—” He didn’t finish.
Logan just nodded, burying his face in Hesh’s shoulder. (bro tf you shouldnt have gone😭)
When Elias finally caught up, he let out a breath. “You okay?”
Hesh nodded. “Yeah. I got him.”
The Moment It All Came Crashing Down
One night, it slipped out. Not in a moment of sentimentality, not in some grand confession—just a quiet realization spoken into the dark.
They were sitting side by side after a long, brutal mission. Hesh had a fresh cut on his temple, Logan was nursing a bruised rib, and neither of them had spoken in a while.
But then Logan, exhausted, let the words slip.
“You’re all I got.”
It was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Hesh heard it.
He turned to Logan, brow furrowing, but Logan didn’t look at him. Just kept his eyes on the horizon, like he hadn’t just admitted something that hurt just to say.
Hesh exhaled, rubbing his face before resting a hand on Logan’s shoulder.
“Nah,” he murmured, voice softer than usual. “We got each other.”
And somehow, that made it feel a little less heavy.
hmu, walker😔
drew my last reblog yayayyy, yall dont have any idea of how much i love hesh, its so dumb MA SHAYLAAAUUGHHHH OUGHH
AHHH i cannot get Logan out of my brain!! Would love to see your take on Logan and f!readers wedding day! Maybe what the first few years of “normal life” would be? a child maybe? do they own a farm with. bunch of animals? i’m curious on what you’d think!
Hell yeah ma'am.
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶
How would an after-marriage life be with logan
X fem!reader!
Notes: nothing just my little boy logan
💐 Wedding Day:
The sun sets low over a quiet, secluded outdoor venue, the sky painted in soft oranges and pinks. It’s a small ceremony—intimate, private—just family and close friends.
No grand spectacle, just the kind of love that doesn’t need an audience to be real.
Logan isn’t a man who gets nervous. He’s been through firefights, ambushes, war zones. But standing in front of a mirror, adjusting his tie? This might be the most terrifying thing he’s ever done.
Merrick claps him on the back. “Relax, Walker. She’s not running anywhere.”
“Yeah,” kick smirks, “but you might if you don’t stop fidgeting.”
Logan rolls his eyes but tightens his grip on the ring box anyway.
The only moment of pure calm comes when Elias walks in. He doesn’t say much—he doesn’t have to. Just a firm hand on Logan’s shoulder and a simple:
“Your mother would’ve loved this.” 😔😔😔 anyways
The venue is small, intimate, peaceful. A clearing surrounded by trees, where the golden hour sun filters through the branches. There’s no over-the-top décor, no extravagant flourishes—just a love that’s strong enough on its own.
He stands tall, hands clasped in front of him, but you can see the tension in his jaw.
Then he sees you. And for a moment, everything else blurs.
His grip loosens.
His heartbeat slows.
Everything makes sense.
how would he not when you're wearing this dress that is giving the final bride who would ever wear something like that🥺🥺 im sorry
He’s already halfway smiling, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
exchanging vows, Logan’s never been good with words, but when it’s time for vows, he doesn’t stumble. He doesn’t overthink. He just speaks.
“I never thought I’d get a life outside of war. I didn’t think I deserved one.”
“But then there was you.”
“You gave me a reason to want more. To believe that after everything, I could still have something good. Someone good.”
“You were my peace when I didn’t know what that felt like. And now, you’re my forever.”
His voice is steady, but his hands tremble when he slides the ring onto your finger. Not out of fear—but because this is real.
When you say your vows, Logan holds onto every word. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t shift in place. Just soaks in every syllable, like he’s memorizing the way forever sounds.
When it’s time to kiss the bride, he doesn’t hesitate. It’s deep, slow, the kind of kiss that says everything words can’t.
And when the reception rolls around? It’s warm, loud, full of life.
Logan isn’t much of a dancer, but he pulls you onto the floor anyway, hands firm around your waist. He’s stiff at first, but with every laugh you give him, every whispered “You’re doing great,” he relaxes.
Eventually, he relaxes, hands settling on your waist, forehead resting against yours.“This isn’t so bad,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching up.
“Told you.”
By the end of the song, he’s completely lost in you.
and elias dance like that cause he is so biased for logan, and then he dies before hesh's wedding cause he is just like that.
ok bye sorry
And just like that, Logan Walker—a man who never thought he’d have a future—steps into the first day of forever.
what?yall thought i would write a wedding night scene? stupid little muffins thinking i would turn my blog from SFW to NSFW
Getting into the real life:
At first, normal feels… strange. Logan spent so much of his life fighting that waking up without a mission feels unnatural.
The first few months are filled with small adjustments, moments where he has to remind himself that this—this quiet, peaceful life—is real.
Logan wakes up before you almost every day. It’s a habit he can’t shake.
But instead of rushing into action, he just… stays there. Lying beside you, listening to your steady breathing, memorizing the way your fingers curl slightly in your sleep.
Eventually, you stir, and he greets you with a low, lazy, “Morning.”
Some mornings, he makes coffee. Others, he just pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, as if making up for all the mornings he never got to have.
Logan never really learned how to cook. MREs and quick, no-effort meals were his go-to. But now? He wants to try.
One morning, you wake up to the smell of burnt toast and slightly questionable scrambled eggs.
Logan, standing there, arms crossed, looking down at the mess.“…It’s not that bad.”
“Babe, it’s black.”
He just shrugs, still stubborn. “It’s… crispy.”
Despite the failure, he keeps trying. And eventually, he starts getting good at it—to the point where Sunday mornings mean Logan making pancakes from scratch and grumbling when you try to help.
Logan still takes time to adjust. At first, he doesn’t leave much of a mark on the place—no decorations, no personal touches.
Until one day, you catch him putting up a picture of the two of you.You pause, smiling. “Making it feel like home?”
He glances at you, then back at the photo, and nods. “Yeah… I think so.” he is not awkward but that is his personality always a simple man talking.
at night, when the lights are low and the world is quiet, he opens up.
Some nights, you lie in bed tracing old scars, pressing soft kisses to them.He doesn’t flinch anymore. He just exhales, melting into your touch.
Other nights, you both just exist together. No words, no pressure—just the feeling of his steady heartbeat under your cheek.
One afternoon, while lying on the couch, you casually say, “We should get a dog.”
Logan raises a brow. “You want a dog?”
“You had Riley. You were basically a dog dad already.”
The next day, he surprises you by taking you to a shelter. And suddenly? You have a rescue dog curled up in your home, fast asleep against Logan’s leg.
Logan whispering “I love you” when he thinks you’re asleep.
im not gonna talk abt pregnancy and stuff cuz i am already planning for another post for all cod characters so!
me at 4 AM wondering if i wanna eat Or I am missing a game that is about to be twelve years old without any second part or sequel
he did nothing but gave me happiness with his presence (Wtf)
oh yeah call of duty ghosts, kinda mess with this game (let it consume my mind and inner thoughts to the point it has slightly destroyed my mental health)
call of duty ghosts but with my oc explaining the lore pt1
my imaginations before i go to bed: