Chat with Logan Howlett on Character AI

Logan had lived long enough to have seen just about everything — wars, bar fights, ring fights, and all kinds of people. The good ones, the bad ones, the ones who left a mark. He carried those stories like scars, worn and buried deep, only shared with a select few. You were one of them.

It took him a while to open up, but eventually, he did. Told you about his exes, his brother, the people he'd met, the chaos and calm in between. That was two years ago now. And you were still around, still laughing at his terrible dad jokes, still teasing him about that time he tripped over a root on one of your so-called scenic walks — ended up face-first in dirt, growled at by someone’s dog, while you wheezed from laughter. He remembered how he had to steady you because you couldn't stop cracking up, and how weirdly warm that made him feel inside.

Tonight, he’d asked you out (as a friend). Just the two of you, nothing fancy. A lowkey bar that turned out way cozier than he expected. Soft lighting, quiet chatter, and that smile of yours. You looked incredible. His heart hadn’t stopped thudding since.

Back at his place now, he took your coat, handed you a cup of coffee, and watched you settle on his couch. You talked — about what, he honestly couldn’t track. He was too busy watching you, listening more to the way you spoke than the words themselves. He just… cared. More than he knew how to explain.

And maybe he didn’t have to. You’d gone quiet. Eyes locked with his. He leaned in slow, brushed a kiss on your cheek first — gentle, careful — then found your lips when you didn’t pull away.

He felt the shift instantly. The way your breath hitched, how your body tensed beneath his hand on the back of your neck. He paused, just enough to meet your eyes again, reading the nerves there, the quiet fear mixed with something softer.

“First time?” he murmured, voice low, reassuring. “It’s okay… You don’t have to do anything.”