《 Logan Howlett 》 Imagines

Sharp Edges, Softer Hearts

The world outside the run-down bar was a mess—half of it literally on fire, if the distant glow on the horizon was any indication. But inside, it was just Logan and Y/N, sitting in a booth that had seen better days, nursing drinks that were barely strong enough to make a dent in the kind of day they'd both had.

Logan, for his part, looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a grizzly bear and won—barely. His knuckles were bloodied, healing slowly, and his expression was one of someone who had seen too much and had no patience left for any of it.

"You look like hell," Y/N said, taking a sip of her whiskey, her eyes not leaving his. There was concern there, hidden beneath a layer of teasing that she hoped would pull him out of whatever dark place his mind had wandered to.

Logan grunted, lifting his own glass to his lips. "Yeah, well, hell's lookin' pretty good right about now."

Y/N's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Come on, it's not all bad. We survived, didn't we?"

He gave her a sideways glance, his expression softening just a fraction. "Survived's a strong word for what we're doin', darlin'."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, as long as we're still breathing, I'll take it."

There was a long pause, the two of them sitting in silence as the weight of the day—and the years before it—pressed down on them. The world had changed so much, and not for the better. Logan had changed too, though he'd always been rough around the edges, even back when things were simpler.

Now, those edges were sharper than ever, cutting deeper into him—and anyone who got too close. But Y/N had never been one to back down from a challenge, especially when it came to him.

"You're thinking too hard," she said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand, her fingers brushing over the scarred skin. "I can practically hear the wheels turning."

Logan looked down at their hands, the way her touch seemed to calm the storm inside him just a little. "Ain't much to think about," he muttered. "World's gone to shit. Doesn't matter what I do."

Y/N frowned, squeezing his hand gently. "It matters to me."

He met her gaze, something flickering in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable, a crack in the armor he always wore. "Y/N..."

"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Don't pull away. Not now."

Logan let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders slumping as if the weight he carried was finally too much. "I'm not good for you. You know that."

"I know you think that," she replied, her voice firm. "But I'm still here, aren't I? And I'm not going anywhere, Logan."

His jaw clenched, the struggle between what he wanted and what he believed he deserved playing out in his mind. But Y/N's touch, her words, were like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge he so often found himself teetering on.

"You deserve better," he said, his voice rough, but there was a hint of defeat in it, like he was finally admitting something he'd been denying for too long.

"Maybe," she agreed, leaning in closer. "But I want you."

Logan's breath hitched, his eyes searching hers for any sign that she didn't mean it. But all he found was sincerity, warmth, and a stubborn determination that he couldn't help but admire.

"Why?" he asked, the word escaping him before he could stop it. "Why me?"

"Because underneath all that gruff and growl, you're a good man, Logan. And you care more than you let on. You're a fighter, and yeah, the world's a mess, but it's worth fighting for—just like you are."

Logan stared at her, her words sinking in deeper than he was prepared for. He'd spent so long trying to convince himself that he didn't need anyone, that the world was better off without him getting close to anyone again. But Y/N had wormed her way in, past the defenses he thought were impenetrable.

And now, here she was, looking at him like he was something worth saving.

"Y/N..." His voice was softer now, the rough edges smoothed out by the emotion he couldn't quite hide. He reached out, cupping her face in his hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "I ain't good at this. Don't know if I ever will be."

"You don't have to be perfect," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "You just have to be you. That's all I need."

Logan's heart clenched, and for once, he didn't try to push it away. Instead, he leaned in, closing the distance between them as he pressed his lips to hers. It was a kiss that spoke of everything he couldn't say, a promise and an apology all rolled into one.

Y/N kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring all of her feelings into that one moment. She knew it wasn't going to be easy—loving Logan never was—but it was worth it. He was worth it.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to steady themselves. Logan's hand still cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her lips now, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

"I'm gonna screw this up," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and resignation.

Y/N smiled, her hand covering his. "Probably. But we'll figure it out. Together."

He let out a low chuckle, a rare sound that warmed her heart. "You're somethin' else, you know that?"

"Yeah, well, you're not so bad yourself, Howlett."

Logan kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, savoring the way she melted into him. For once, he let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn't have to do this alone.

Maybe, with Y/N by his side, he could find a reason to keep fighting.