#and would write these long posts about how i'm in love with her

[archangeldyke-all]

hope you're feeling better by the ghosting! Lesbian dating scene is hard out here 😭 have an ask if you're up for it. Or you can just listen abt this scenario I have, totally fine either way just wanna let these thoughts out. And you're my fav sevika writer so! It's a bit angsty/comfort ig? Basically Sevika explaining to reader why it's such a struggle to say "I love you".

Not just because it's an admission of feelings for such a character but I think it's also cuz loving someone also means you have to accept anything could happen to either of them, esp since Zaun and her job are quite dangerous. So saying those 3 words feels like accepting that risk and continue on which is a big thing to do, it's like willingly leaving yourself open to potential heartaches. Idk just recently saw posts about how love is not just a feeling but also a choice, whether to stay/commit/any other reason the person feels what love is. Felt like if the reader is the first thing she's ever cared about and don't wanna lose her (whether it's a breakup, death etc,), she would struggle saying it cuz it feels like accepting that risk which she doesn't want to. She would still make up for it by showing her love & appreciation thru other means tho! Mb the reader had anxious thoughts on whether she reciprocated, or Sevika feels bad for not saying back for so long that she felt like she has to explain why she's struggling.

Sorry if I'm rambling too long 😅 hope you have a great year ahead, love your writing as well! ❤️

i love this sm <33

men and minors dni

even though you've lived in zaun your whole life, you understand that your life's been a lot softer than it could've been.

you've never had to worry about where you'll sleep at night-- you've always had a dry, warm bed to rest in.

you've gone hungry some nights, but you're lucky enough to have never gone more than a few days without a warm meal.

and your choice in career keeps you out of the line of danger; safe and inside most of the day, home before sunset each night.

so, while you're zaunite enough to know how to keep your head down and mind your own business, you understand that for most people life's a lot scarier.

sevika's one of those people.

sevika's known grief for almost as long as she's known how to talk. she's spent her fair share of nights in the cold, and she's gone to bed hungry more often than she's gone to bed full and satisfied. plus, sevika's dedicated her life to being a revolutionary. which means sevika has a lot of enemies.

so it's no surprise that lovey-dovey words come easier for you than they do for sevika.

it isn't until two years into your relationship that you realize she's never said she loves you. sevika has to be the one to point it out.

"i think i gotta call it an early night, baby. you stay up and finish the movie." you say around a yawn, leaning forward to kiss your girlfriend on the couch. sevika pouts.

"just sleep on top of me here." she requests. you snort.

"you'll throw your back out carrying me to bed."

"that's just offensive. i could lift three of you." sevika's pout worsens. "goodnight." she huffs. "give me another kiss."

you laugh and roll your eyes. "i love you." you say with exasperation as you lean in to kiss her. sevika stiffens against you. you pull away to study her face. "'s wrong?"

"you always say that." sevika whispers. you raise an eyebrow at her, climbing into her lap to hold her face between your hands.

"well, yeah. 'cause i do."

"i know." sevika says with a tiny smile. it makes your heart flutter. it's quiet for a moment as you wait patiently for your girl to gather her words. eventually, sevika sighs. "does it ever bother you that i don't say that to you?" she asks.

you frown in confusion. "what, that you love me?" you ask. sevika nods. you sputter a laugh. "yes you do, you say it all the time." you scoff.

sevika blinks up at you in shock. "no i don't." she says. "baby, i've never said it. to anyone. ever."

oh. well, that's surprising. you furrow your brow as you try to recall an instance where your girlfriend let the words slip, and you're shocked to realize that she, in fact, has not. "oh." you say.

sevika gulps. "does that... is that bad?" she asks.

you blink down at her, and your heart shatters. "oh, baby, no." you coo, kissing her frown. "no, that's not bad."

"but-- i should be able--"

"darling, i know you love me." you cut her off. sevika blushes almost as red as she did the first time she saw your tits. you smile, brushing your thumbs over her crimson cheeks. "you make that very clear."

"yeah but i--"

"you moved me into your sacred bachlorette pad three months into us meeting. yesterday, you came home from work with a stab wound, and tried to make me dinner before patching yourself up."

"it was just a scratch."

"i'm not finished. you call me stupid shit like sweetbean and cookie-- and you do it in front of other people! you! sevika; the scary lady of zaun!" she chuckles a little bit at this. "sevika, i didn't even realize you hadn't said it until you told me just now." you kiss her nose. "it's not bad."

sevika leans forward to bury her face against your neck, inhaling deeply. "i just... i want to say it." she whispers. you nod. "i wish i could say it like you do; just, whenever i feel it." god she's romantic. you choke back your own tears as you kiss her scalp. "but... if i say it..." sevika trails off.

"if you say it, it makes it real." you whisper, nodding. "it makes it somethin' you can lose." you can feel her hot tears on your throat. you don't mention it.

"y-yeah." she whispers shakily, her hands clutching at your hips desperately. "and i can't lose you."

"you won't baby. even if the worst happens, i'm yours forever. i'll haunt the shit outta you." this pulls a startled laugh out of her, and you grin. "you don't have to say it for the rest of our lives, if you can't. i won't mind. just as long as we're together."

and that settles it.

for a while...

sevika starts practicing.

she'll spell it out to you, 'i l-o-v-e you, baby.' or she'll whisper it to you when she thinks you're sleeping.

at the three year mark, sevika can say it when she's drunk enough. it's fucking adorable.

"i have somethin' import'nt' t' tell you..." she says with a waggle of her eyebrows. you burst into laughter.

"oh, do you?" you ask.

"mmhmm. look." sevika darts forward to peck your lips, then pulls back with a proud smile. "i love'ya." she slurs. you grin.

"i love you too, baby."

"an' if this jinxes everythin' and y' die-- y' gotta make the haunting obvious 'kay?" she asks. you cackle.

"alright, love."

by the time you're married, the words are almost compulsive for her. sevika can't leave a room without shooting a 'love you' over her shoulder at you. even if you're arguing.

"oh, so you've conveniently got a fuckin' 'meeting' in the middle of the night, on your night to do fuckin' dishes?! if you don't get in the kitchen and grab the sponge right now you're sleeping on the couch!"

"it's six pm, it's a dinner meeting! i'll do the dishes when i get back! you act like i'm fuckin' negligent, but you're the one who doesn't know how to properly clean a fuckin' toilet! janna, you annoy me-- i love you, i'll be back by midnight!" she huffs as she slams the door behind her.

despite how pissed you are-- you can't help but smile a bit at her words.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

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@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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[totalswag]

Hey girl so I was wanting more dad drew and I was wondering if you could do something like where Tatum is like a teenager and her personality is a lot like her moms which causes them to buttheads sometimes, and in one argument Tatum says some hurtful thing to her mom making her mom cry so drew had to have a talk with her. You can add Leo to idk I was just kinda thinking but besides the point I love your work and I think your amazing keep up the great work girl love ya

teen tension ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note stop i miss writing dad!drew, one of my favorites. tatum as a teenager is a mixture of both parents. thank you so much for the kind words it really means a lot. happy new year everyone, i hope you all had a fun and safe night <3

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masterlist

summary tatum, your oldest, says a few hurtful words to you that make you cry. drew has a conversation with tatum about what she did to you.

warning(s) arguments, crying, child + parent arguing.

Tatum is very much like you when you were a teenager. Moments during the week where you two buttheads about certain things that are typical for a mom and daughters to "argue" about.

However, tonight took a turn for the worse. Everyone was sitting at the dinner table finishing up dinner. It had been a long day at work for Drew and you been home cleaning the house.

Leo was talking about how his day went—recently, Leo, has gotten into basketball and wanted to try out for the school. Drew and you were excited to hear the news and encouraged Leo to try out.

"Tatum, could you kindly get off your phone? "Your brother is talking," you say aloud, attracting her attention as you point to Leo, who has stopped talking.

Tatum rolls her eyes and sets her phone on the table beside her dish. "You can put it on the counter please."

"Why can't I leave it next to me?" She gives you an attitude, "We are sitting at the dinner table eating, and none of us have our phones next to us," your tone remains casual but firm.

"Leo can still talk and I won't be on my phone" crossing her arms over her chest, not bothering to move her phone from the table.

Before Tatum can finish speaking, Drew cuts her off with a clear and serious voice and says, "Tatum, watch your tone and listen to your mom." 

Tatum groans loudly, pushes her chair out, picks up her phone, walks to the kitchen, and puts it down after rolling her eyes in frustration.

"There look you happy mom?" Tatum mumbles "so dumb" under her breath as she emphasizes with her palms raised.

You hear her say, "It's not stupid, Tatum." We've had this regulation in place for a very long time, so I don't see why everyone is acting this way—" Tatum slams her hand on the table and interrupts you in the middle of your statement. 

"Please, Mom, just shut up already. I'm tired of you being irritating these past few days—" "Tatum Ann Starkey you will not speak to your mom like that, ever!" Drew abruptly interrupts her, throwing his fist on the table, causing everyone to jump. He gestures for her to "go up to your room now," and Tatum gives him a terrified face.

The corners of your eyes well up with tears. Leo comes running to you and gives you utter comfort. You are wondering why Tatum has suddenly started acting this way.

Leo hugs you close to him and says in your ear, "You are the best mom ever, mom. You did nothing wrong."

"Thank you baby."

"Leo, while I comfort your mother, could you please return the little condiments to their proper places? "Thank you, buddy," Drew says to Leo, who nods and follows instructions.

"Are you okay baby?" Drew asks, crouching down and placing both hands on your knees, looking at you with concern. 

"I'm fine, just confused as to why she's acting this way towards me," you say gently, sniffling.

Drew and you begin discussing what has just occurred. Drew was not pleased with Tatum's actions toward you, her mother. You do so lot for this family, and Tatum does not need to vent her frustration on you.

Drew soothed you in every manner conceivable, making you feel more at peace about yourself—he's the best thing that has ever happened to you. The sound of his words made you relax, and tears streamed down your cheeks.

"I'm gonna have a talk with her upstairs," he pauses, "I love you."

You give him a soft smile, pulling the front strained away from your face—leaning forward in your chair, thinking what just happened. So many thoughts running through your head.

Drew knocked on Tatum's bedroom door, and you knew he was going to give her a big lecture on how to communicate with your parents. You've discussed this with both of your children numerous times.

Leo walks into the living room with a bowl of ice cream for himself and you—he's always been a momma's boy. Leo brings you the bowl and takes a seat next to you on the couch. "Thank you, Leo," you say, throwing your free arm around him and drawing him into a side embrace. 

"Of course mom, I love you."

After five minutes, Tatum and Drew come downstairs. Drew muttered something to Tatum before elbowing her toward you. Leo moves from the couch to wherever Drew is in the home.

As she settles on the couch beside you, Tatum sighs—crisscross apple sauce. "Mom I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you at the dinner table," she says after a little pause. "I shouldn't spoken to you like that."

You take in Tatum's words, "I forgive you, Tatum. What you said to me really hurt," Tatum lets a tear fall from her cheek, "be cautious with your words, darling, I love you," taking her in for a loving, lengthy hug.

You and Tatum unwind in each other's arms while letting the tears flow. Tatum reiterated the same words to you: "I love you, mom, and I apologize." Regardless of how you argue, you will always adore your children.

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[mcrdvcks]

okay, so when i first saw this posted i couldn't wait to read it... but it was like the week before thanksgiving and i had two midterms and even more assignments due so i put it off. but now, i've finally had time to read this and it was well worth the wait!

so, here we go, it's gonna be a bit long so just work with me (this is my version of highlighting on my kindle)

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Logan replied, glancing at the door. His fists clenched instinctively. The thought of this guy forcing his way in, disturbing her, made his blood boil. “So maybe you should take the hint and get lost.”

i don't care if this trope is 'overdone' because it's gets me all giggly when a character is protective over someone, especially when they're so strong about consent. (no means no dude!)

The guy didn’t budge, his face twisting with frustration. “You’re being unreasonable. This is all because of that stupid job, isn’t it? You think you’re too good for me now, huh?”

i could be reading into this, but could she be the journalist? (i read too many mystery books as a child.) i'm writing notes as i read so i'm not sure yet

She took a breath, exhaling slowly as she glanced away, her jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guys like you think you’re doing me a favor, stepping in, trying to… ‘protect’ me. But all you’re doing is making me feel like I can’t handle my own life. Like I’m weak. And I’m not.”

this hit hard, because while i would like to believe if a man like logan had taken to protect me, in real life i'd probably be more like this. i love how reader, though shy, stands up for herself!

“Oh,” she said quietly, a forced, brittle smile tugging at her lips. “So… what? I only look beautiful when I’m dressed up? When I’m… like this?”

a-are you in my room? in my head?? please get out because this is absolutely something i would feel (and have felt before). it does hurt when the only time someone makes a nice comment is when your dolled up and not when you feel most like you.

Logan could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the urge to step outside and tell this guy to back off building with each word. But he held himself in check, forcing himself to stay silent, to let her handle it. She didn’t need him barging in like some kind of white knight, as much as he wanted to.

the fact that logan actually listened to what she said and followed through, letting her handle it? that's a real man.

Sanctuary - Part One

Logan and Wade are sent by Stryker to find a journalist who has been digging around trying to expose Team X. Logan isn't prepared when he meets an intriguing neighbor causing him to question himself and the mission.

origins logan howlett x fem!reader - team x mission, shy reader, no y/n, she/her pronouns used instead of you, logan's pov, origins wade, awkwardness, guarded feelings, angst, AU, crushes, logan kinda being a stalker, stryker and victor cameos, fighting, cussing, wade being a good friend, reserved logan

a/n: Okay buckle up because this is a long author’s note but when do i not make an essay? I’m an origins girlie and will find any excuse to write about origins logan (it was the first fic i wrote) so here we are with another one. Idk if this makes sense—maybe it’s an AU where logan just works with team x but somehow doesn’t go through the weapon x program idk, okay. It started as a one shot of shy reader (the club scene) then ended up becoming the longest thing i have ever written for logan. I’ve been working on it for the past 2…maybe 3 weeks and yeah…finally posting it after editing it. I was gonna make it a sad, angsty ending but i can’t do it, i just can’t. Logan deserves happy endings. P.s. it’s from logan’s POV that’s why it’s she/her pronouns instead of you. I’m used to writing in third person (creative writing major here) but for fics i usually do second person but here i just wanted to do something different. So sue me.

apparently this is too long to post in one go so here's part one and here's part two

word count: 40k

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the endless stream of chatter pouring from Wade’s mouth. It was like trying to drown out the buzz of a fly that just wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Logan?” Wade’s voice cut through the humid night air like a blade.

“Wade, for the love of God, shut up,” Logan muttered, low and gruff. “I can’t hear anything if you keep flappin’ your damn jaw.”

Across the street, neon lights flickered on the facade of a rundown bar, casting fractured shadows over a row of grime-slicked windows above. The air smelled of stale beer and gasoline, tinged with a hint of rot. Logan took a deep breath, focusing, scanning for any sign of their target—the journalist who’d gotten too curious about things he had no business knowing.

Wade just rolled his eyes, unfazed by Logan’s irritation. “I was just trying to tell you…that’s our guy,” he said, nodding towards a short, nervous-looking man slipping into the front door of the apartment building above the bar. The man’s hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets, head down, moving quickly, like he wanted to be invisible.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Something about the guy didn’t feel right. But they didn’t have much else to go on, and he didn’t have the patience to argue with Wade right now.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He gestured for Wade to follow, and they crossed the street, dodging a couple of potholes filled with oily rainwater. The entryway smelled even worse up close like someone had left a pile of garbage to rot right inside the door.

Inside, the dim hallway was narrow and claustrophobic, with walls covered in peeling, faded wallpaper that might have once been green. Logan’s steps were silent, practiced—Wade’s, not so much. His boots thudded against the cracked linoleum as he craned his neck, looking around like a tourist on his first big-city adventure.

They found the apartment number and pushed their way in, catching the man off guard as he fumbled to pull a sandwich out of a paper bag. He dropped it with a startled yelp, hands flying up in surrender, eyes wide and terrified.

His voice came out in a high, trembling squeak. “L-look, I don’t want any trouble! I can give you money—I swear, I don’t have much, but—”

Wade cocked his head, raising a skeptical brow. “Money? Oh, sweetheart, we’re not here for money.” He let the word drip like honey, and the man flinched. Wade leaned in, studying the man like he was an insect pinned to a board. “You don’t know anything about Team X?”

The man’s face went pale, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He shook his head frantically, words spilling out in a stammered mess. “N-no, I swear—I’m just an accountant, alright? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Team…what? I’ve never even heard of it.”

Logan stood back, watching the guy’s every twitch, every dart of his eyes. Fear had a way of squeezing the truth out of people, and this guy looked like he was about to come apart at the seams. Logan’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring slightly. He caught Wade’s eye and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. The poor bastard was clean—just some pencil pusher in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Wade’s grin only widened a slow, wicked curve that made Logan’s stomach sink. He recognized that look: Wade had just had one of his bright ideas.

Wade clapped the accountant on the shoulder, making the man jump. “Well, congrats, pal. You’ve just saved yourself from a world of hurt. But I gotta ask—you like it here?” He gestured around the dingy apartment, where the wallpaper was peeling into long, damp strips and the faint odor of mildew hung in the air. “Nice digs. Bet the landlord’s a gem.”

The accountant blinked, looking from Wade to Logan in bewilderment as if he was just realizing they weren’t here to kill him. “Uh…I guess? I mean, it’s not the worst place I’ve lived.” 

“Perfect.” Wade snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up like a kid who’d just been handed a new toy.

Logan shot Wade a warning look. “Wade. Don’t even start.”

Wade ignored him, snapping his fingers again as if he’d just solved world hunger. “Think about it, Logan. We get a lease here. Set up a cozy little base. I’ll bring a lava lamp, we’ll order takeout, and we can scope out every last tenant till we find this guy. Like fishing, but in an apartment building.”

Logan scowled, crossing his arms. “You’re saying we go through the hassle of a rental application. Background checks. And wait.”

“Come on, think of it as blending in! Imagine us as friendly neighborhood roommates, huh?” Wade slapped him on the shoulder, a little too enthusiastically. “We can get to know the neighbors. Borrow a cup of sugar. You’ll look adorable in an apron.”

Logan let out a low growl, but he could see Wade wouldn’t let it go. They were running out of options, and if this journalist were smart, he’d be laying low. A bit of patience might be the only way to catch him off guard.

“Fine,” he muttered, the word tasting bitter. “But if you so much as mention lava lamps again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

Wade’s grin was all teeth. “Deal. Now let’s go talk to the landlord. You want to do the talking, or should I?” He turned back to the accountant, clapping him on the shoulder again. “Thanks for the inspiration, buddy. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ll just let ourselves out.”

The accountant sank onto his couch, looking dazed, still clutching his sandwich like it was a life preserver. Logan followed Wade to the door, shaking his head. Somehow, he knew this stakeout was going to be the longest assignment of his life.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“Well, Stryker isn’t happy,” Wade was saying, his voice an incessant buzz in the background. “But when is that dude ever happy? I feel bad for his wife—assuming she exists. Maybe he just clones himself a girlfriend every year. Could you imagine? ‘Sorry, honey, I’ll be home late tonight, gotta send a couple of mutants to—’”

Logan ignored Wade’s rambling as he surveyed their new “home.” Calling it a dump would’ve been generous. The wallpaper was peeling, a thick layer of grime coated the windows, and the faint smell of mildew seeped out from behind the walls. They were at least lucky enough to have separate rooms, but even with a door to shut Wade out, Logan doubted he’d get much peace.

“Did he give you any more information?” Logan finally cut in, hoping Wade might actually have something useful.

Wade blinked, as if surprised that Logan was listening. “About the journalist?”

Logan clenched his teeth. “No—of course about the fucking journalist. Like what the guy might look like, or any other detail that could help us find him?”

Wade shrugged, completely unfazed by Logan’s irritation. “Nope. Stryker was being vague again. Just the usual cryptic bullshit. I swear, the dude is losing it. First, he sends us out here to find some mystery man—”

Logan rolled his eyes, tuning Wade out. They’d been here for a week now, trawling through this run-down building and questioning almost every unlucky soul who happened to live here, and they were no closer to finding their target than when they’d started. Stryker hadn’t given them much to go on, which only made Logan suspect that there was more to this mission than he was letting on.

Finally, Logan couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and headed for the door. “I’ll be back,” he muttered over his shoulder, already halfway out.

Wade called after him. “Where are you going? Got a hot date?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with an answer. He took the stairs down two at a time, feeling a grim sense of relief as he stepped outside and let the cool night air hit him. The bar below their building wasn’t much better than the apartment—it was dim, grimy, and smelled faintly of stale beer and spilled whiskey. But at least it was quiet.

He pushed open the door and made his way inside, hoping he might get a few moments to himself, maybe even a drink strong enough to dull the ever-present headache that came with dealing with Wade.

The place was nearly empty, just a few regulars hunched over the bar and a lone woman sitting in a booth near the back. Logan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than he meant to. She looked…out of place. Pretty, in a way that seemed wasted on a hole like this. 

She was sitting alone in a corner booth, a book propped open in front of her. Her hair fell over her face as she read, strands catching in the dim light, and she seemed oblivious to the world around her. There was a quiet stillness about her, a kind of focused calm that didn’t quite fit in a bar like this. Logan found himself wondering what a woman like her was doing here, in a place that looked like it had seen one too many bar fights and smelled like it.

For a moment, he debated going over, then caught himself. Not here to make friends, he reminded himself. Still, his gaze kept drifting back to her, curiosity nagging at him. She didn’t look like the regulars in this place—she was younger, softer, with a certain self-contained reserve that drew him in despite himself.

Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the exhaustion of the past week catching up to him, but before he knew it, he’d grabbed his glass and walked over to her booth.

She looked up, eyes widening slightly as he approached. Logan stopped just short of her table, suddenly aware of how rough he must look after days on the road, stubble shadowing his jaw, his clothes rumpled and worn. He cleared his throat.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was softer than he intended, and he cursed himself for feeling the slightest bit nervous.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod, closing her book. Up close, he could see the way her eyes flicked over him, assessing but cautious. She didn’t say anything—just looked at him, as if waiting for him to explain why he’d interrupted her quiet.

“You live upstairs?” he asked, nodding toward the ceiling. He thought he might’ve seen her in the hallway when he and Wade moved in, but he hadn’t paid much attention at the time.

“Down the hall,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the dull hum of the jukebox. “I saw you moving in yesterday. You and…your friend.”

Logan almost chuckled at that. Wade was a lot of things, but “friend” was stretching it. “Yeah, sorry about him. He’s…a handful.”

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, a glimmer of amusement that made him feel just a little less like a stranger in a strange place. “I noticed.”

He found himself studying her face—the slight curve of her smile, the way her fingers toyed with the edge of her book as if part of her mind was still half in whatever story she’d been reading. Something about her felt…steady. Centered. It was a quality he’d rarely seen in anyone.

“Logan,” he said, finally offering his name, though he didn’t expect her to care.

She nodded, meeting his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than he’d expected. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

Silence settled between them, not quite uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken questions. He could sense she wasn’t the type to pry, but there was a curiosity in her eyes like she was trying to figure him out, just as he was with her.

After a beat, she lifted her book slightly, an invitation for him to leave her in peace. But instead of moving, Logan found himself asking, “What’re you reading?”

She blinked, a bit surprised, then held up the cover for him to see—a worn paperback mystery novel. The kind where the hero always catches the killer but loses something in the process. 

He smirked. “Not exactly light reading for a place like this.”

She shrugged, a hint of a smile returning. “I like the quiet here…and usually nobody bothers me.”

“Well, guess I’m breaking that rule,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She didn’t seem bothered. She just looked at him with those steady, curious eyes, and for a moment, he forgot about the mission, about the dirty apartment upstairs, about Wade’s grating voice. Here, in this booth, in this shitty bar, with a quiet woman and a book, he felt…still.

The moment shattered when he heard Wade’s voice behind him, loud and smug. “Already making friends, huh? Didn't know you had it in you, Logan.”

Logan tensed, jaw tightening as he glanced over his shoulder. Wade was leaning against the bar with that insufferable smirk, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. Logan shot him a look that could have peeled paint.

“Mind your own business, Wade,” he growled, then turned back to her, keeping his voice softer. “Thanks for letting me sit.”

She nodded, her expression as calm and unreadable as before, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—amusement, maybe, or curiosity. It was hard to tell. She watched him as he stood, and he found himself hesitating, not quite ready to break whatever strange, quiet connection had settled between them.

Wade wasn’t about to let it linger. “Come on, Romeo,” he called, grinning as he gestured for Logan to follow. “We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Or did you forget in all the charming small talk?”

Logan clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to punch the smirk off Wade’s face. Instead, he gave her one last look—a silent apology or a promise to be less of a stranger next time. But her gaze remained steady, unreadable, as he turned to go.

As he walked past Wade, he grabbed him by the shoulder, steering him roughly toward the door. “Let’s go,” he muttered.

Wade snickered, clearly enjoying the opportunity to needle him. “Touchy, touchy. Guess you do have a heart under all that grumpiness.”

Logan ignored him, shoving Wade ahead and out the door, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was leaving something unfinished. Her image stayed in his mind—the way she’d watched him with those curious eyes, her quiet presence a balm in a week filled with noise and chaos. He didn’t know what it was about her that tugged at him, but he knew it wasn’t something he could explain, even to himself.

Once they were back on the street, Wade was still talking, filling the night air with his usual nonsensical commentary. Logan barely heard him. His mind was elsewhere, replaying that brief encounter in the dimly lit booth. He’d come down to the bar for a moment of peace, maybe a clue, maybe just a strong drink. He hadn’t expected to find…whatever that was.

But there was no time to dwell on it. They had a job to do, and he’d be damned if he let Wade screw it up.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan was screwed. Ever since that brief encounter in the bar, she’d been wedged in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t dig out. He’d catch himself lying on the worn-out couch in the apartment, tuning out Wade’s endless chatter and focusing instead on the faint sounds of her footsteps from down the hall.

She lived across the hall, exactly three doors down. He knew that much, even though he hadn’t seen her again since that night. She didn’t come or go often, and when she did, it was only for short trips—a few minutes out, then back to the quiet solitude of her apartment. 

Logan found himself straining his heightened senses to catch any trace of her: the click of her door, the soft pad of her feet against the hallway carpet, even the faint murmur of her voice when she spoke on the phone. It was insane. He didn’t know the first thing about her, but somehow she’d settled under his skin.

Fuck, he thought, running a hand over his face. I’m a damn stalker.

He tried to shake it off, forcing himself to focus on the mission, but the building felt too cramped, the walls too thin, and her presence was always just out of reach. Wade, of course, noticed Logan’s distraction and was more than happy to exploit it.

“So, when are you gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?” Wade quipped one morning, sprawled across the armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. “Or are you just gonna keep sulking around, hoping she magically falls into your lap?”

Logan shot him a glare. “She’s not my girlfriend, Wade.”

“Oh, sure,” Wade drawled, smirking. “That’s why you’ve been lying here for the last three hours, sniffing the air like a bloodhound every time she walks past. I swear, you’re worse than a teenager.”

Logan clenched his fists, jaw tight. He’d deny it if he could, but Wade had a point, and it grated on him. He needed an excuse—a real reason to cross paths with her again, something that wouldn’t make him look like a complete creep.

Wade, apparently sensing an opportunity to meddle, sat up with a grin. “Tell you what, old man. How about you make yourself useful and take our laundry down to the laundromat? You look like you could use a walk, maybe clear your head a bit.” He tossed a balled-up shirt at Logan’s face.

Logan caught it, growling. “Since when do you do laundry?”

“Since never. But I’m feeling generous,” Wade said, smirking as he dropped a bundle of clothes into a bag and shoved it at Logan. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll run into someone interesting while you’re there. Just a thought.”

Logan snatched the bag, too annoyed to argue, and stalked out of the apartment. The morning was cool, the sky overcast, and the streets were quiet as he made his way down to the laundromat which was across the street from the apartment.

He told himself he was only doing it to get Wade off his back—but he couldn’t deny the faint flicker of anticipation at the thought of seeing her again.

The laundromat was nearly empty when he pushed open the door, the dull hum of washing machines filling the air. And there she was, sitting on a cracked plastic chair near the back, a book open on her lap, her brow furrowed in concentration. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in her reading, a strand of hair falling over her face as she turned a page.

Logan froze, his grip tightening around the bag of clothes. Get it together, he told himself, forcing his feet to move as he made his way to an empty machine a few steps away from her. He tossed the clothes in, doing his best to look casual, though he could feel his heart thumping harder than it should.

After a moment, he glanced her way, watching the way her eyes skimmed the words on the page, her lips moving slightly as if she were tasting each sentence. She looked…content. Lost in her own world, soft and quiet in a way that felt like the exact opposite of everything in his life right now.

He cleared his throat, searching for something to say, anything that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot. “Good book?” he managed, his voice gruff, and immediately regretted it. Smooth, Logan. Real smooth.

She looked up, surprised, her gaze locking onto his. For a second, he thought she might brush him off, but then she gave a small, shy smile.

“Yeah, it’s… a mystery novel,” she said, holding up the cover. Her voice was soft, and he caught a faint trace of lavender like she’d been folding fresh laundry just before he came in. “I like to read while I’m waiting. It makes the time go faster.”

Logan nodded, his usual stoic expression softening just a little. “Seems like a good way to pass the time. This place could use the distraction.” He glanced around at the flickering fluorescent lights, the chipped tiles, the machines rattling like they were on their last legs. “Not exactly a scenic spot.”

She laughed, a quiet sound, but it lit up her face in a way that caught him off guard. “No, it’s not. But it’s peaceful, in its own way.”

They fell into a silence as she went back to her book, and Logan found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye as he sorted through the clothes, feeding them into the machine one by one. There was a calmness about her, a quiet strength, and he couldn’t help but wonder what her story was—why someone like her had chosen to live in a place like this, so close to the kind of trouble people usually ran from.

After a few minutes of silence, Logan cleared his throat, searching for something to say. “You… uh, you live alone?”

She looked up, her eyes narrowing just a fraction, a hint of suspicion flickering there. He could almost see her calculating whether or not to answer. “Do you really think I’d tell you that?” she asked, her tone mild but pointed.

Logan’s heart skipped. Shit. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot. “I didn’t—I’m not some creepy guy, I swear,” he said quickly, stumbling over his words in a way he wasn’t used to. “Just… making conversation.”

She arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “And you expect me to take your word for it?”

He felt heat rise to his face and shifted uncomfortably, aware of how ridiculous he must sound. This wasn’t him—Logan didn’t do small talk, especially not with someone he barely knew. But something about her had him feeling giddy, bumbling his way through a conversation he wasn’t quite prepared for.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “Look, I’m sorry. You have a point. It’s just… this neighborhood doesn’t exactly feel safe. I guess that’s why I asked.”

She sighed softly, closing her book and running her fingers along its worn spine. “Even more of a reason not to answer your questions, don’t you think?” Her tone was cool and cautious, but there was no malice there—just a quiet wariness that made him wonder what she’d been through to put up those walls.

Logan nodded, feeling a twinge of respect for her caution, even if it stung a little to be on the receiving end of it. She’s smart, he thought. Smart enough not to trust a stranger with more muscles than manners, asking personal questions in a laundromat.

An awkward silence settled between them, filled with the rhythmic hum of the machines. He glanced down at his laundry, watching the clothes tumble through the soapy water, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid or intrusive. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“Look, I know I’m not exactly smooth,” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “I just… don’t see many people like you around here.”

She tilted her head, curiosity softening her guarded expression. “People like me?”

“Yeah. People who—” He struggled to find the right words. “Who seem like they don’t belong in a place like this.” He gave her a slight, self-conscious shrug. “You look… well, like you’ve got better places to be than a crappy laundromat in a bad part of town. That’s all.”

She studied him for a moment, the corner of her mouth lifting in what almost looked like amusement. “And you think you belong here?”

He let out a dry laugh, surprised by the question. “Probably more than most. It’s not exactly my first time in a place like this.”

“Figures,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping over him, taking in the worn leather jacket, the stubble, the roughness that clung to him like a second skin. “You look… I don’t know. Like you’re used to keeping people at a distance.”

Logan blinked, caught off guard by the accuracy of her observation. He shifted under her gaze, feeling exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. “Yeah, well,” he said, gruffly, “sometimes distance is a good thing. Keeps people safe.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening just a little. “Maybe. But it also keeps people alone.”

Her words hit him harder than he’d expected, settling into some quiet place inside him he’d thought was long gone. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze on him like a challenge.

After a beat, she gathered her laundry, folding it with careful practiced movements, her hands steady and precise. He watched her, mesmerized by the quiet grace in each gesture, the way she seemed to carry her world with her, self-contained and resilient.

As she turned to leave, she glanced back at him, something unreadable in her eyes. “Take care, Logan,” she said, her voice softer now. It wasn’t a question—it was a goodbye, or maybe a warning.

He swallowed, surprised that she’d remembered his name. “Yeah… you too.”

She lingered for a second, then gave him a small nod and walked out, leaving the faint scent of lavender and the echo of her words hanging in the air.

Logan watched her go, feeling the ache of something unfinished settle in his chest. He’d wanted to ask her more, to find out what kept her here, what kept her so guarded. But he knew better than to push.

As he turned back to the hum of the washing machines, he realized he’d be counting down the days until he saw her again.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“Stryker’s pissed,” Wade muttered, slumping against the kitchen counter in their dingy apartment. The usual smirk was missing from his face, replaced by a look of weary frustration. “Doesn’t understand how, after two weeks, we haven’t found the guy.”

Logan leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. The truth was, he’d practically given up on the mission. They’d followed every lead, shaken down every contact, and come up with nothing. At this point, the search felt pointless. Hell, he could barely keep his head in the game—his mind kept drifting back to her. He hadn’t seen her in days, not since that run-in at the laundromat, and the silence from across the hall gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Tell him this shit takes time. We’ve done everything we can,” he said, the words coming out hollow. He didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore, not even for Wade.

Wade sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I already did. But, y’know, Stryker’s not exactly big on patience. Guy thinks we’re machines or something.” He shot Logan a sidelong glance, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “You all right, man?”

Logan grunted, brushing him off. “I need a drink,” he muttered, grabbing his worn leather jacket from the back of the sofa and heading for the door. He didn’t look back, didn’t wait for Wade’s response. The apartment felt too cramped, too stale, and he needed air—needed a chance, maybe, to see her.

He made his way down the narrow stairwell, taking two steps at a time, the dim light casting shadows over the worn wallpaper. The bar was quieter than usual, only a handful of regulars hunched over their drinks, lost in their thoughts. Logan scanned the room, his heart pounding harder than he cared to admit. He’d been hoping, half-expecting, to see her. But she kept to herself so much that even catching a glimpse felt like chasing smoke.

Then he saw her, and his breath caught. There she was, standing behind the bar, her sleeves rolled up, pouring a whiskey into a lowball glass with practiced precision. The faint glow of the bar lights softened her face, giving her an almost ethereal look in the dimness. She didn’t notice him at first, focused on her work, and he took a second just to watch her, feeling that strange pull tighten in his chest.

He slid onto a stool at the bar, waiting until she looked up and caught sight of him. Her eyes flickered with recognition, a brief, surprised spark that quickly settled into something more guarded.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he said, his voice low and gruff.

She gave a small, almost shy smile, setting the glass she’d just poured in front of an older man at the end of the bar. “Just part-time,” she replied. “Pays the bills.”

Logan nodded, glancing at the bottles lined up behind her. “Don’t suppose you’d join me for a drink?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, though there was something distant in her eyes. “I don’t drink,” she said, wiping down the counter with a cloth. “But I can pour you something strong if that’s what you need.”

He shrugged, trying to act casual. “Maybe I just wanted company.”

She paused, her hand stilling for a moment as she looked at him. “Rough day?”

Logan let out a humorless chuckle. “You could say that.” He hesitated, then added, “Work’s… complicated.”

She tilted her head, watching him with that quiet, steady gaze that always seemed to see right through him. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes talking about his job.”

“Not much to talk about,” he muttered, though he could feel the weight of it pressing on him, heavier than he wanted to admit. He took a deep breath, fingers tapping restlessly on the bar. “Let’s just say I’ve been chasing something that doesn’t want to be found.”

She nodded, her expression hardening just a bit. “Sometimes it’s better to let things go. Not everything needs to be caught.” Her words were gentle, but they struck something deep inside him, making him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

He ran a hand over his face, weary. “Yeah, maybe. Just… hard to walk away when you’ve got orders breathing down your neck.”

She arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement breaking through her usual reserve. “So you’re the type who follows orders, huh?”

Logan smirked, shaking his head. “Not exactly. But sometimes you don’t get a choice.” He picked up his glass, taking a slow sip of the whiskey she’d poured, savoring the burn as it went down. “What about you? Seems like you don’t mind keeping to yourself.”

She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m used to it. Less complicated that way.”

There was a pause, and he could sense something unspoken there, a hint of a story she wasn’t quite ready to tell. He felt an unexpected urge to ask, to push just a little, but he held back, afraid of scaring her off.

Instead, he said, “This place doesn’t exactly feel like… I don’t know. The kind of spot for someone who likes peace and quiet.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and unexpected. “Probably not. But I don’t mind it here. It’s… predictable.” She looked down, fiddling with the edge of her towel, a small frown creasing her forehead. “I’ve had enough surprises for one lifetime.”

Logan watched her, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t name—sympathy, maybe, or just the strange, unexplainable need to understand her. “Yeah. I get that,” he murmured, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “I’m not much of a fan of surprises either.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze, her expression softening. “Funny. Somehow, I think you’ve had your fair share.”

“More than I’d like,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. He wanted to tell her more, to somehow convey the weight he carried without unloading it all on her shoulders. But he was used to keeping that part of himself locked away. So instead, he just took another drink, feeling the burn of the whiskey like a familiar ache.

After a moment, she leaned on the bar, closer than she’d been before, and he caught a faint whiff of lavender—a soft, almost comforting scent that didn’t belong in a place like this. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “you don’t seem like the kind of guy who belongs here.”

He looked up, caught off guard by her words. There was something raw in her gaze, something vulnerable she was letting him see, if only for a second. At that moment, he felt the urge to reach out, to say something real, something that might close the gap between them.

But the words stuck in his throat. All he could manage was a rough, “Yeah. Maybe neither of us do.”

She smiled faintly, a ghost of one, then straightened, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. “I should get back to work,” she said, her voice soft but distant again.

Logan nodded, watching as she moved down the bar to help another customer. The warmth she’d shown him vanished as she fell back into the rhythm of her job, her expression becoming neutral, polite, reserved.

He sat there for a while, nursing his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye. There was a part of him that wanted to wait until her shift ended, to walk her home, to find out more about the life she kept hidden behind that quiet, steady demeanor. But he knew better. They were both loners, both wary, both used to walls that kept the world at a distance.

Still, as he finally rose to leave, he couldn’t help but glance back one last time, catching her eye for a fleeting moment. There was something there—something unspoken, a silent understanding like they were both seeing the loneliness in each other.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

A door slammed somewhere down the hall, jolting Logan awake. He shot up, his senses immediately on high alert, ears ringing from the sudden noise. In this dump of an apartment building, chaos was as predictable as the peeling paint on the walls, but something about this was different. He felt it low in his gut—a tug of instinct that told him her door was the one that had slammed.

He didn’t even think twice. Rolling out of bed, he barely bothered to throw on a shirt, his sweatpants clinging to his legs as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The air was thick and stale, the smell of old carpet mingling with the faint, sour odor of cigarette smoke. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the weak fluorescent light flickered above, casting an eerie, washed-out glow over everything.

Logan froze when he spotted a lanky, rough-looking guy standing outside her door, his posture tense, fists clenched and white as he pounded on the wood.

“C’mon, let me in!” the guy snarled, his voice slurred and aggressive. “We’re not done talking!”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a surge of anger rising in his chest. He watched for a second, sizing the guy up—a wiry frame, greasy hair, clothes rumpled like he hadn’t changed in days. The man looked like trouble, the kind of guy who didn’t know when to take no for an answer. And if he was here banging on her door at this hour, that made him Logan’s problem.

Logan’s voice came out low and cold as he approached. “You wanna keep it down?”

The guy spun around, his eyes narrowing as he took in Logan’s broad shoulders, the scowl etched deep on his face. “Who the hell are you?” he sneered, but there was a flicker of hesitation, a hint of unease that Logan caught right away.

Logan took another step forward, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “I’m the guy who lives down the hall,” he said, his tone deadly calm. “And you’re about two seconds away from regretting that door you’re banging on.”

The guy’s sneer wavered, but he tried to puff himself up, stepping forward like he was going to make something of it. “This doesn’t concern you, man. I’m just trying to talk to my girl.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Logan replied, glancing at the door. His fists clenched instinctively. The thought of this guy forcing his way in, disturbing her, made his blood boil. “So maybe you should take the hint and get lost.”

The guy scoffed, but there was a nervous edge creeping into his voice now. “Look, we’re just… we’re going through some stuff. It’s none of your business.”

Logan took one more step, close enough that he could see the guy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Last warning. Leave. Or I make you leave.”

Before the guy could respond, the door opened a crack, and she appeared, her face pale and tense, eyes darting between Logan and this guy. “Logan, don’t. Please,” she said, her voice softer than usual but carrying a weight that made him pause. “It’s… it’s fine. I can handle it.”

Logan glanced at her, his irritation tempered by a flash of confusion. Handle it? The guy was practically foaming at the mouth, and she was telling him to back off.

The guy shot her a pleading look. “Come on, babe, just give me five minutes. We can talk this out.”

Her shoulders stiffened, and Logan could see the resolve in her eyes as she shook her head. “I already told you, we’re done. There’s nothing left to talk about. Just go.”

The guy didn’t budge, his face twisting with frustration. “You’re being unreasonable. This is all because of that stupid job, isn’t it? You think you’re too good for me now, huh?”

Logan felt his patience snap. He took a step forward, his voice a low growl. “She said go. Don’t make me tell you again.”

The guy’s eyes flicked back to Logan, the last traces of defiance draining out of him. For a second, he seemed to weigh his options, then cursed under his breath and turned, stalking down the hallway. He cast one last resentful glare over his shoulder before disappearing down the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Logan turned back to her. She was leaning against the doorframe, her face tight with frustration. He opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, but she cut him off with a weary sigh.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she muttered, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.

Logan frowned. “Seemed like he wasn’t getting the message,” he replied, keeping his voice gentler than usual. “Didn’t look like he was gonna leave you alone.”

She crossed her arms, hugging herself as if trying to put some barrier between them. “I just… I didn’t want to make things worse. He’s already been hanging around too much as it is, and now—” She trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable.

Logan’s brows furrowed. He’d come out here ready to throw the guy down the stairs if it came to that, but now he was starting to see the other side of it. “Is he…?” Logan paused, not sure how to phrase it. “Your boyfriend?”

She shook her head quickly. “No–I mean he was, sort of. Not anymore.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “He’s just… he doesn’t know when to let go.”

Logan felt a flash of anger on her behalf, a protective instinct flaring up inside him. “If he gives you any more trouble, you let me know. I’ll make sure he stays gone.”

Instead of relief, his words seemed to frustrate her. She let out a soft huff, rubbing her temples. “Logan, I don’t need a knight in shining armor. This is… complicated. He’s just going through something. It doesn’t matter—” Her voice trailed off leaving the silence to hang between them.

Logan clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a step back. He wasn’t used to being told to stand down, especially when he felt someone needed his help. But he could see this only made her more anxious, that his interference was complicating things for her in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

“Fine,” he said, though it took effort to keep his voice steady. “But if he shows up again, I’m not gonna just sit by and watch him bother you.”

She looked at him, her expression softening for a moment. There was a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, tempered by weariness. “Thanks, Logan. I appreciate it. Really, but it won’t make things easier. He’ll just think—I just don’t want any more problems, okay?” 

He nodded, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. He’d wanted to protect her, to do something useful, but it seemed all he’d managed was to add to her stress. “Got it,” he said quietly.

She gave him a small, tentative smile, then turned back to her apartment. As she shut the door, he caught one last glimpse of her expression—tired, guarded, but grateful, like she was carrying the weight of more than just a bad ex.

Logan stood there for a long moment, staring at her closed door, hands clenched at his sides. He hadn’t realized how deeply he’d started to care until he’d felt that surge of anger seeing someone else give her trouble. But now he could feel her boundaries, a line she’d drawn that he hadn’t meant to cross.

Turning back to his apartment, he couldn’t shake the frustration coiled tight in his chest, or the quiet ache that came with knowing there were parts of her life he couldn’t protect her from.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“You and that girl—have you made any progress?” Wade asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a lazy sip of his beer. They were sitting in their usual corner of the bar, ostensibly keeping an eye out for any sign of their elusive target. But Wade’s attention, as usual, had drifted to more entertaining topics.

Logan huffed, eyes scanning the room. “What did I tell you, Wade? I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Sensitive subject, big guy?” Wade’s grin only widened, clearly enjoying himself. “C’mon, I’m just saying—you’ve been pining after her like a lovesick puppy for weeks now. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Logan shot him a glare that could’ve cut steel, but Wade just shrugged, unbothered. “Look, I’ve got a way with the ladies. Maybe I can help you out.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Wade wasn’t listening. His eyes lit up as the door opened, and she walked in, pulling on her apron as she headed behind the bar. Logan tried not to stare, but he felt that familiar pull in his chest, his gaze drawn to her almost against his will. She looked tired, a little more reserved than usual, like something heavy was weighing on her mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if her ex had been causing her trouble again. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to ask, to do something to make it better.

That’s when Wade got up.

Logan’s stomach tightened as Wade strolled across the bar, his usual cocky swagger on full display. He watched, jaw clenched, as Wade leaned on the bar, flashing her one of his trademark grins. She looked up, startled at first, and Logan saw her eyes flick briefly toward him before settling back on Wade. Her expression softened into a polite, practiced smile, the kind she gave every customer. But Wade wasn’t satisfied with politeness.

He couldn’t hear exactly what Wade was saying due to his jealousy overtaking his senses, but he saw her give a small, hesitant laugh, the kind that looked like she was just being polite. That didn’t matter—Wade was relentless, leaning in closer, gesturing animatedly, probably telling some ridiculous story. After a few moments, Logan saw her laugh again, this time a little more genuine, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

Logan’s fingers tightened around his glass, the jealousy hitting him like a punch to the gut. He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself it was nothing—just Wade being Wade. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Wade, sensing the effect he was having, shot a glance back at Logan, a smug grin flashing across his face before he turned back to her. Logan’s chest tightened. That bastard. He’d walked over there just to rile him up, and damn it, it was working.

Wade said something else, something that made her laugh again—this time a little louder, though Logan could tell it was still half-hearted, a courtesy laugh to appease the charming stranger who’d decided to bother her during her shift. She wasn’t truly engaged, but the sight of her laughing, even out of politeness, stirred something dark and possessive in Logan’s gut.

He forced himself to look away, taking a long drink to steady himself, but the sound of her laugh lingered, scratching at him. Wade was still leaning on the bar, still talking to her, probably laying it on thick just to make Logan squirm. Logan couldn’t help the flash of irritation that surged through him. It wasn’t like he’d made a claim on her or anything—but seeing Wade so close, making her laugh, it grated on him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a few agonizing minutes, Wade finally sauntered back over, plopping down across from Logan with a satisfied smirk. Logan’s jaw was still clenched, his gaze flickering over to where she was now wiping down the bar, her expression already back to that familiar, guarded neutrality.

Wade raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a grin. “You see that? Had her laughing in no time. It’s called charm, my friend. You should try it sometime.”

Logan glared at him, his voice low and dangerous. “Cut the crap, Wade.”

“Oh, come on,” Wade chuckled, leaning back with a look of pure amusement. “Don’t be so uptight. If you’re not gonna make a move, someone else will.”

Logan’s fists tightened, and he forced himself to take a slow, steadying breath. “This isn’t a game, Wade.”

Wade shrugged, unbothered. “Never said it was. Just seems like you’re too busy brooding over her from a distance to actually, y’know, do anything.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “You afraid she’ll turn you down? Big, tough Logan afraid of a pretty girl?”

Logan’s nostrils flared, a quiet anger simmering in his chest, but he held back. He wasn’t going to give Wade the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he let his gaze drift back to her, watching as she moved behind the bar, her face calm but distant, like she was deliberately shutting herself off from everything around her.

The truth was, Wade wasn’t entirely wrong. Logan had been keeping his distance, unsure how to approach her, especially with everything going on in her life. He didn’t want to be another complication, another person who made things harder for her. But watching Wade talk to her, seeing that faint, forced smile on her face—it made him realize just how badly he wanted to be the one making her smile, not out of politeness or obligation, but because she actually wanted him there.

Wade leaned in, still smirking. “So? What’s the plan, big guy? You gonna sit here and sulk, or you gonna actually talk to her?”

Logan’s gaze snapped back to him, irritation flaring. “Unlike you, I don’t go around sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Hey, I was just being friendly,” Wade said, raising his hands in mock innocence. “You know, she’s pretty nice once you get her to open up a little. Thought I’d do you a favor, warm her up for you.”

Logan scoffed, but he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone. “She’s not some conquest, Wade.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Relax, old man. I’m not trying to steal her. Just trying to get you to wake up and do something about it before she slips away.” He glanced back toward the bar, where she was now stacking glasses, oblivious to their conversation. “You think she’s gonna wait around forever? Women like that don’t stay single long.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his heart pounding with a mixture of frustration and jealousy he couldn’t shake. He took another sip of his drink, forcing himself to keep his gaze on anything else instead of glancing her way again. The truth was, Wade’s words struck too close to home. He’d been holding back, convincing himself that he had time, that he didn’t need to rush things. But seeing her with someone else—even Wade—made him realize how thin that excuse really was.

After a moment, Logan set his glass down, his eyes cold and hard. “You don’t know the first thing about her, Wade.”

Wade shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe not. But neither do you, at this rate.” He flashed another grin, leaning back in his seat. “Look, you’re not gonna scare me off with your brooding, so maybe just… I don’t know, think about it. You might find that going over there and actually talking to her works better than glaring at me.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his gaze drifted back to her, watching as she moved with quiet efficiency, her expression carefully blank. He could still hear her forced laugh echoing in his head, the way she’d seemed to tolerate Wade’s attention rather than welcome it.

With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. If Wade wasn’t going to back off, maybe it was time to take matters into his own hands.

He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t sit around and let someone else fill the space he’d been too afraid to claim.

Logan slid onto the bar stool in front of her, his presence a solid weight she couldn’t ignore, even though she kept her eyes down, focused on wiping an already-clean spot on the counter. She looked up briefly, her gaze flicking to him before darting away, a faint, polite smile barely gracing her lips.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

“Hi.” She answered quietly, her eyes settling somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but on him. Her hands kept busy, her movements almost mechanical as she straightened the bottles on the bar and rearranged the napkins as if his presence alone made her feel she had to be doing something.

Logan felt a pang of something uncomfortably close to regret. He wasn’t used to this—a woman shrinking away from him, putting up walls before he’d even had a chance to say his piece. The memory of her ex banging on her door flashed through his mind, and he shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, about the other night,” he began, voice rougher than he intended. “I… I didn’t mean to, y’know, step in like that. I just thought—well, it seemed like you needed help.”

She finally looked at him, her gaze sharp and guarded, like she was measuring each word before letting it reach her. “It’s fine,” she said flatly, her tone clipped. “I can handle my own problems.”

Logan swallowed, feeling the rejection like a slap. He knew she was brushing him off, trying to make him back down, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let it go. “Didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t,” he muttered, his voice softer. “Just… didn’t want to see you put in a bad spot.”

She let out a small, humorless laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she busied herself with the glasses on the bar. “Bad spots are part of the package around here, Logan. You don’t need to make it your business.”

He leaned forward slightly, brow furrowing. “Maybe I just don’t like seeing you get hurt.” The words came out more intense than he’d intended, and he saw her stiffen, her hands pausing mid-reach. She looked up, really looked at him, a flash of something unreadable in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or irritation. It was hard to tell.

She took a breath, visibly collecting herself. “Logan… I appreciate the concern, really. But I’m fine.” Her voice was steady but distant like she was pulling herself back behind a wall he couldn’t get through. “This kind of thing… it’s not new to me.”

That didn’t sit right with him, the idea of her having to handle men like her ex, people who didn’t take no for an answer. He wanted to ask her more, to understand what kind of trouble she’d been through, but he knew that line was dangerous. Respect her space, he reminded himself, even as the urge to push gnawed at him.

But he couldn’t help himself. “You don’t… you don’t have anyone else to look out for you?”

Her gaze flicked to him, sharper now, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just…” He faltered, feeling himself starting to drown in the weight of his awkwardness. “You don’t seem to have anyone around. Family, friends. Someone who could back you up if things got rough.”

She stared at him for a long, tense moment, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a slow, controlled exhale, setting down the glass she’d been wiping with careful deliberation. “Logan, you don’t know me. And frankly, I don’t know you. You and your friend…” She paused, glancing over at Wade, who was lounging at the other end of the bar, eyeing them with an amused grin. “You both keep… hovering. And it’s starting to feel a little strange.”

Logan’s jaw tightened and a wave of frustration and embarrassment crashed over him. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, a bit too defensively. “We’re just… we’re just looking out for you. This place isn’t exactly safe.”

She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. “And you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t understand the risks of living here?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, his words failing him. He realized he’d overstepped, pushed too far without thinking. She didn’t need a protector, at least not one who bulldozed into her life without an invitation. And yet, here he was, sitting at her bar, trying to fix things he barely understood.

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “I see you here, night after night, putting up with jerks who don’t know when to quit. You’re not like them. You deserve better.”

Her expression softened, but only slightly, and she glanced away, a distant look in her eyes. “Better,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Right.” She looked back at him, meeting his gaze with something close to resignation. “I don’t need saving, Logan. I’ve been doing just fine without it.”

He swallowed, hating how small those words made him feel. He’d faced down enemies, been through battles that left him scarred in ways she couldn’t imagine, but sitting here under her gaze, he felt exposed, clumsy, like he was fumbling in the dark.

She sighed, glancing down, and for a moment, he saw a hint of vulnerability in her expression—a crack in her armor. “Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Why are you and your friend even bothering with me? I’m just… some bartender.”

Logan hesitated, feeling Wade’s eyes on him from across the room, knowing he was probably getting a kick out of watching him squirm. But this was more than just Wade’s meddling. This was him, unable to walk away, pulled back to her time and time again for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he said finally, his voice low, but steady. “You’re… different. Strong. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I know I’m not good with words, but… I see you here, and I just keep thinking you deserve more than this.”

She looked at him, her guarded expression softening, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw something crack beneath the surface—a glimmer of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded. But then, just as quickly, she pulled back, straightening, her walls going up again.

“Oh, so I’m a charity case now?” she murmured, her voice tight and distant, the hint of anger simmering beneath her words. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight as she looked him over, her gaze cold and appraising. “Look, I told you—I don’t need anyone looking out for me, especially not some guy who doesn’t know when he’s made someone uncomfortable.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, each one sinking in deep. Logan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He felt his face go hot, a mix of shame and frustration twisting inside him. He wanted to explain himself, to tell her he hadn’t meant it that way—but the look on her face told him that anything he said now would only make things worse.

“I—” he started, then stopped, swallowing hard. She kept her eyes on him, unblinking, her expression hard as steel. He could see it now—the line he’d crossed, the space he’d invaded without thinking. He’d thought he was helping, protecting her, but all he’d done was make her feel trapped.

She took a breath, exhaling slowly as she glanced away, her jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guys like you think you’re doing me a favor, stepping in, trying to… ‘protect’ me. But all you’re doing is making me feel like I can’t handle my own life. Like I’m weak. And I’m not.”

Logan clenched his fists under the bar, forcing himself to stay quiet, to listen. He’d been on the other side of this before—people assuming things about him, trying to fix things they didn’t understand. Now, for the first time, he realized he was doing the same thing to her. He looked down, shame tightening in his chest.

She shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “You barely know me, Logan. You have no idea what I’ve been through. And I’m not interested in becoming some project for you to fix or some one-night stand.”

Her words stung, cutting through the last shreds of his defensiveness. He’d been telling himself he was looking out for her, that she needed someone to stand up for her. But now he could see how it must have looked to her—some guy she barely knew, showing up again and again, prying into her life, acting like he knew better.

He cleared his throat, voice rough. “You’re right,” he said quietly, finally meeting her gaze. “I… I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

She watched him, her eyes softened just a fraction, though the wariness remained. He could feel the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him, making him feel clumsy and exposed.

“Look,” she said, her tone gentler but still guarded, “I appreciate whatever it is you’re trying to do. Really. But you don’t get to decide what I need. That’s my choice. And if I want help, I’ll ask for it.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of relief and regret. He could sense the walls she’d put up, and he knew now that he was part of the reason they were there.

He stood up, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a cold ache. “Right. Sorry if we made things weird,” he muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Didn’t mean to… overstep.”

For the first time, she seemed to soften, her gaze losing some of its hardness. She let out a long breath, looking down at the bar as if collecting her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was almost kind, but there was an edge to it, a reminder.

“Just… maybe think twice before you go around trying to be someone’s hero,” she said, her lips curving into a faint, sad smile.

Logan felt the weight of her words settle over him, heavier than anything he’d carried in a long time. He nodded, swallowing back the urge to say more. For once, he knew he needed to let her have the last word.

She turned away, her attention shifting to a group of customers at the other end of the bar. She moved with quiet efficiency, her shoulders tense but steady, shutting him out completely.

Logan stood there for a moment, feeling the full sting of her rejection, the ache of realizing he’d overstepped in ways he couldn’t take back. She didn’t look at him again, didn’t acknowledge his presence, and he knew he’d lost whatever fragile connection they’d had.

“Smooth, as always,” Wade drawled, leaning back with an infuriating grin.

Logan ignored him, his jaw clenched tight as he sat down. He’d thought he was protecting her but all he’d done was drive her further away. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The past few days, Logan had kept a low profile, barely leaving the apartment except to grab food or take out the trash. He didn’t want to risk running into her—not after the way she’d shut him down, her words echoing in his mind like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. She’d made it perfectly clear that she didn’t need his help, and he’d gotten the message. Loud and clear.

But tonight, Wade had barged in with new intel from Stryker. Apparently, their elusive journalist was on the move, spotted hanging around one of the local clubs. Logan hadn’t been in the mood to play dress-up and join the nightlife, but he didn’t have much choice. Stryker was breathing down their necks, and if this was their best shot at tracking the guy down, he couldn’t let it slip by.

So he’d reluctantly thrown on a clean shirt and made the walk a few blocks down to the club, Wade at his side, chattering nonstop as they reached the entrance.

“It’s a bit nicer than the bar we live above,” Wade noted, casting a glance around the neon-lit exterior with approval. A line of people waited outside, all glittering dresses and sharp suits, laughter, and perfume filling the warm night air. Wade smirked, nudging Logan with his elbow. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you can find another pretty girl to make up for your last crash-and-burn.”

Logan rolled his eyes, ignoring Wade’s jab. “We’re here to find the journalist. Stay focused,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they made their way inside. The club was dimly lit, pulsing with low red and blue lights that throbbed to the beat of the music. Bodies moved on the dance floor, a tangle of arms and laughter and heat, and Logan felt a familiar irritation simmering under his skin. Clubs weren’t his scene. Too loud, too crowded, too many damn people.

He forced himself to concentrate, sniffing the air, trying to pick up any hint of their target’s scent. But the mix of sweat, cologne, and spilled alcohol made it nearly impossible to pick up anything distinctive. He scanned the crowd, his eyes narrowing as he tried to catch sight of anyone who looked remotely like the guy they were hunting.

But then he saw her.

At first, he thought he was imagining it—a trick of the lights, or just his mind playing cruel games. But no. It was her, standing near the edge of the dance floor, laughing at something some woman was saying. She looked… different. Completely different from the guarded, quiet bartender he’d met. Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her lips were painted a glossy, tempting shade that caught the light every time she smiled. She wore a dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, showing off a side of her he’d never seen before, a side he hadn’t even known existed.

Logan’s mouth went dry, and for a moment, he forgot why he was even there. All he could think about was her—the way she moved, the easy smile on her face, the way her laughter seemed to cut through the noise of the club like it was meant for him alone. He’d been trying to avoid her, trying to keep his distance, but seeing her like this, carefree and vibrant… pulled him in, like a magnet he couldn’t resist.

Wade must have noticed his distraction, because he gave Logan a light smack on the shoulder, pulling him out of his trance. “Logan, buddy, don’t tell me you’re still stuck on her,” Wade said, his tone half-amused, half-annoyed. “I swear, I’ve never seen you this pathetic over anyone. Rejection’s hitting you hard, huh?”

Logan shook his head, forcing himself to tear his gaze away, though his eyes kept drifting back to her. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to Wade. “We’re here for the journalist. Just… keep your eyes open.”

Wade wasn’t buying it. He crossed his arms, smirking. “Oh, I’m keeping my eyes open, all right. You, on the other hand…” He whistled, nodding in her direction. “You’re about one second away from abandoning the mission to go talk to her. I mean, come on. If you’re that obsessed, just go over there already.”

Logan clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to punch Wade then and there. But a part of him hated that Wade was right. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since their last conversation, and now, seeing her like this, he was barely holding himself back.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he started making his way across the crowded floor, ignoring Wade’s low chuckle behind him. As he approached, she turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed on him. Her smile faltered, surprise flickering in her eyes before she quickly masked it, her face shifting into something more guarded.

“Logan,” she said, her tone cautious, almost as if she were bracing herself. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling out of place, unsure what to say. “Yeah. Didn’t expect to see you either,” he replied, his voice gruffer than he intended. “You… uh, you look different.” He instantly regretted it, realizing how awkward it sounded.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Different?”

“Good different,” he amended quickly, his cheeks warming. Real smooth, Logan, he thought, mentally kicking himself. 

She glanced away, a faint frown tugging at her lips.“Thanks I guess,” she said, then gestured to her friend, who was watching the exchange with barely concealed interest. “I’m just here with my friend, Monica. She thought it was a good idea for girls’ night and dragged me out.” He could see a flash of uncomfortableness before she masked it.

Logan nodded, his mind racing, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a fool. But before he could gather his thoughts, her friend nudged her playfully, smirking at Logan.

“So, this is the guy you told me about?” Monica asked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

She shot Monica a warning look, her cheeks flushing. “I… I didn’t tell you that much,” she muttered, casting a quick, embarrassed glance at Logan.

A flicker of hope stirred in his chest. She talked about me? He tried not to let it show, but the thought sent a spark through him, making him stand a little straighter.

Monica gave her a knowing smile, then leaned closer to Logan, lowering her voice. “Just so you know, she’s been playing hard to get for a reason. But maybe she’s finally ready to let someone in.”

Logan looked at her, the guarded woman he’d met behind the bar now looking distinctly uncomfortable, her cheeks flushed a warm pink. She looked away, biting her lip, and he realized she was just as thrown off-balance as he was.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the thrum of the club’s music pulsing around them, the energy of the room fading into the background. All he could see was her—her flushed cheeks, the slight nervousness in her gaze, the softness in her expression that he’d never seen before.

Monica sighed dramatically, looking between them with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh, look at that. I need another drink,” she announced, clearly not needing one at all. She winked at her friend. “Plus, I think I see a cute guy over there. You two… have fun.” With one last grin, she slipped away, disappearing into the crowd and leaving them alone.

Logan took a steadying breath, forcing himself to look her in the eyes, to say what he’d been meaning to since their last conversation. “Listen… about the other night,” he began, voice low and careful. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She hesitated, searching his face. He held her gaze, hoping she could see he meant it. For a moment, he thought he saw the walls she kept around herself soften, just a little. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the thrum of the music. “It’s just… I’m not used to people getting involved in my life.”

Logan nodded, understanding more than he could put into words. “I’m not exactly used to… letting people in either.” The confession felt strange on his tongue, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t planned, but it was the truth. He could see that she understood, her expression shifting from guarded to something softer, that made his heart beat a little faster.

They stood there, inches apart, the pulse of the club and the chatter of people fading into the background. Logan wanted to reach out, to touch her hand, to bridge that last bit of distance between them, but he held back, waiting for her lead.

After a moment, she gave him a tentative smile. “Did Wade drag you out here?” she asked, the tension easing just a bit as a hint of humor crept into her voice.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, glancing away shyly. “You don’t… you’re like me,” she said, fumbling over her words. “I just didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy who’d want to go to a club.”

He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “I go to bars all the time. Almost the same thing, right?”

She let out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so. I don’t drink, but Monica always drags me out, says it’s ‘good for me.’” She made air quotes, rolling her eyes slightly.

“I know.” Logan’s face went hot. “I mean, I remember you don’t drink. That’s why… well, I guess that’s why I was surprised to see you here.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his footing. “But you look… different tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression growing cautious. “You already said that. Do you make it a habit to repeat yourself?”

Logan fumbled for the right words, suddenly feeling like a teenager on his first date. “I mean…you look beautiful tonight,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. His gaze flicked over her, taking her in again.

She went very still, her eyes searching his face. For a second, he thought he’d finally broken through to her, that maybe she could see how much he meant it. But then her expression shifted, her lips pressing together, her eyes hardening. She looked down, and he could see her shoulders tense, her arms wrapping around herself as if she were closing off.

“Oh,” she said quietly, a forced, brittle smile tugging at her lips. “So… what? I only look beautiful when I’m dressed up? When I’m… like this?”

Logan’s eyes widened, realization hitting him like a slap. “No—no, that’s not what I meant.”

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper as she looked away. “I knew it was stupid to come out tonight,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Guess I’m just someone you feel sorry for? Want to just take pity on?”

“Hey, no—” Logan reached for her arm instinctively, but she pulled back, her face turning away to hide the tears welling in her eyes. The sight made his chest tighten, guilt flooding him as he realized just how badly he’d misstepped.

“I thought maybe…” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, brushing a hand quickly across her cheek. “Never mind.” She looked back at him, her eyes glossy, her expression one of hurt and frustration. “Forget it, Logan. I don’t need this.”

“Wait,” he said, desperate now, his voice thick with regret. “It’s not pity. I just… I wanted you to know that I—”

She didn’t let him finish. With a tight, broken smile, she turned on her heel, pushing her way through the crowd and disappearing into the pulsing mass of bodies on the dance floor. He stood there, frozen, watching her slip away, her silhouette vanishing into the blur of lights and movement.

Logan felt an ache settle deep in his chest, the weight of her words sinking in. He’d tried so hard to find the right thing to say, to make her see how he felt—but all he’d done was confirm her worst fears, making her feel like he only saw her worth when she was dressed up, made up, transformed into someone she thought he’d want.

He stood there for a moment, lost in the noise and the lights, feeling the regret gnawing at him like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

Behind him, Wade sidled up, taking in Logan’s expression with a low whistle. “Well, that looked like it went well.”

Logan glared at him, too frustrated to respond. Wade shook his head, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Man, you’re really a disaster with women, you know that?”

Logan clenched his fists, ignoring Wade’s taunts as he scanned the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of her, even though he knew she wouldn’t want to see him right now. He’d messed up, probably worse than he’d ever messed up anything before. But he couldn’t just leave it like this. Not when she was the one person he couldn’t get out of his mind.

Without a word to Wade, he pushed through the crowd, determination hardening in his chest. He didn’t know how he was going to fix this, but he knew one thing—he wasn’t going to let her slip away again. Not like this.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan spotted her near the dimly lit hallway by the bathrooms, sitting on the floor with her legs curled up to her chest, her face buried in her arms. The sight stopped him. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and the thought that he’d been the one to put that hurt in her eyes twisted something painful inside him. He knew he should leave her alone—she’d already told him to. But he couldn’t. Not when he felt the ache of her words as if they’d been carved into him.

He took a cautious step closer, clearing his throat. “Hey… I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the muffled thump of music from the club. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and the guilt hit him all over again. Her gaze was sharp, guarded, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it—a weariness like she was tired of feeling this way.

“Just go away, Logan,” she said, her voice wavering as she hugged her knees tighter. “Haven’t you done enough?”

He wanted to reach out, to touch her shoulder, anything to make this right, but he held back, forcing himself to respect her space. “Please,” he said, his voice rough. “Just… hear me out. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She let out a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s not your fault,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice was shaky and raw, but there was a surprising steadiness underneath like she was trying to take control of her pain. “I… I overthink things. I read too much into what people say.”

Logan shook his head, his brow furrowing. “But I should’ve been more careful with my words. I—”

“It’s not about you, Logan,” she interrupted, her gaze dropping to the floor. She took a shaky breath as if she were forcing herself to let him see a piece of herself she usually kept hidden. “All my life, I’ve only ever felt… I don’t know, noticed… when I was all dressed up. People would tell me I was beautiful, but only when I was like this,” she gestured to her dress, her makeup, the polished version of herself that she’d put on tonight. “And somewhere along the line, I guess I just started to believe that’s all there was to me. That if I wasn’t done up, I didn’t… matter.”

Logan’s chest tightened as he listened, his discomfort fading in the face of her honesty. He understood, more than she realized. He knew what it felt like to wear a mask, to be seen in a way that didn’t match who you were.

“Look, I get it,” he said softly, his voice thick. “I know what it’s like to feel like… like you’re on the outside. Like people only see a part of you and ignore the rest.”

She let out a short, almost bitter laugh, her gaze flicking over him, taking in the rugged, handsome man who had sat next to her. “You? An outsider?” she said, the skepticism clear in her voice. “Come on, Logan. Look at you. How could someone like you know what it feels like to not… fit?”

He swallowed, feeling the old scars hidden beneath the surface ache in response to her words. “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, his gaze distant for a moment as he stared at the wall across from them. “People see what they want to see. This…” He gestured vaguely to himself, his broad shoulders, his gruff exterior. “It’s just armor. Doesn’t mean I fit in. Doesn’t mean I feel at home anywhere.”

She went quiet, studying him with a new kind of curiosity, like she was seeing a side of him she hadn’t expected. Her expression softened, and for a moment, the two of them sat in silence, the thumping bass of the club seeming to fade into the background, leaving them in their own little world.

“I didn’t know…” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

Logan shrugged, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I’m not saying it’s the same. Just… I get it. You feel like you have to be something else, just to be seen. But you don’t. You’re worth a hell of a lot more than some fancy dress and makeup.”

She blinked, looking down, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “I… I don’t know how to believe that,” she admitted, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it.

He felt a strange surge of protectiveness, an urge to make her see herself the way he did. “You don’t have to believe it all at once,” he said softly. “Just… start small. You’re here, right? That’s a start.”

She looked up at him, a faint glimmer of hope mixed with hesitation in her eyes. “You really think so?”

Logan nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Yeah. I do.” He hesitated, then added, “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean that you’re only beautiful like this. I meant… I just meant that you looked happy. You looked… free. That’s what I saw.”

A soft, surprised smile tugged at her lips, and he felt a flicker of relief, like maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything.

“I guess… I guess I did feel a little free tonight,” she admitted, her voice tentative, like she was still testing the idea out.

They sat there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Logan felt the weight of her gaze, his eyes shifting to look down at her glossy lips. He didn’t understand why it stirred something deep inside him. 

Finally, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing up at him with a tentative smile. “For… understanding. And for not letting me just sit here feeling sorry for myself.”

“Anytime,” Logan replied, his voice a soft, steady rumble, grounding her.

They stayed like that, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her shoulder, neither of them moving to fill the space between them. It was rare for him to feel like this—like he could just be here, be himself, and have that be enough. She seemed to relax, letting herself breathe in his presence, a hint of comfort settling into her expression.

But then her friend’s voice sliced through the moment, loud and slightly tipsy, echoing down the hallway. “There you are!” Monica stumbled to a halt, her eyes narrowing the second she noticed the red around her friend’s eyes, the tear tracks still faintly visible on her cheeks. Monica’s gaze shot to Logan, her eyes flashing with instant, protective suspicion. “What the hell? Did this guy—”

She quickly got to her feet, hands up in reassurance, cheeks flushing. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said, glancing back at Logan with an apologetic look. “Logan didn’t do anything.”

Monica crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “You swear? Because I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass, even if he’s big.”

Logan almost laughed, but he held back, just giving a slight shake of his head. “I’m harmless,” he muttered, though the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Monica narrowed her eyes, looking between them with obvious doubt. “Fine. I’ll let it go… for now.” She slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulders, lowering her voice. “But hey, I found someone way more fun than this brooding guy. He’s tall, dark, and cute as hell,” Monica said, shooting Logan a sideways look. “Let’s go, yeah?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering back to Logan, lingering there for a moment. He could see the indecision in her eyes, the hint of a question, like she wasn’t entirely ready to walk away. Part of him wanted to reach out, to tell her to stay, to keep talking, but he bit the words back. He knew she didn’t owe him anything, and he wasn’t about to guilt her into staying.

She gave him a small, reluctant smile, a little sad around the edges. “I… I’ll see you around, Logan,” she said softly like she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Yeah,” he replied, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “Take care.”

With one last glance, she let Monica tug her back toward the crowded, neon-lit main room, disappearing into the sea of people. Logan stayed where he was, the ache in his chest unfamiliar and raw. He hadn’t wanted to let her go, but he’d seen the uncertainty in her eyes, the pull between her friend and whatever connection they’d shared just moments before. And he couldn’t blame her for choosing the friend who’d stood by her through who-knew-what, instead of the stranger who’d stumbled into her life.

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. He’d almost forgotten why he was even here, but the reality of it settled back over him like a cold splash of water. The mission. The damn journalist.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself off the wall, heading back into the main area to find Wade, hoping he’d at least managed to keep his eye on their target. But as he scanned the crowd, a familiar laugh caught his attention, coming from the back corner of the club.

He sighed, already knowing what he’d find.

Sure enough, Wade was slouched in a booth with some girl draped over him, her fingers tangled in his hair, her lipstick smudged against his cheek. They were laughing, Wade’s arm wrapped possessively around her waist, clearly oblivious to everything else.

Logan clenched his fists, feeling a fresh wave of irritation rise. He pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of the booth, crossing his arms. “We’re supposed to be working, remember?”

Wade looked up, still grinning, completely unbothered. “Oh, hey, Logan!” he slurred, throwing an arm out as if he were inviting Logan to join in on the fun. “Lighten up, man. Haven’t seen you all night. What, were you off getting cozy with your lady friend?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “We have a job to do, Wade. You know, finding the journalist? Stryker’s going to be thrilled if we come back empty-handed because you were too busy making out in the corner.”

Wade just laughed, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Relax, Logan. We’ve been chasing this guy for weeks, and he hasn’t shown up once. If he’s even here, he’s not coming out till way later. Might as well have a little fun while we wait.”

Logan shot a glare at Wade’s “date,” who giggled and nuzzled closer, clearly not bothered by the tension. He felt his patience snap, his frustration boiling over. All night, he’d been on edge, caught between his need to finish the job and the emotions he couldn’t quite bury when it came to her. And now here was Wade, throwing it all away for a quick thrill.

“Fine,” Logan bit out, his voice low. “You go ahead and have your fun, Wade. I’m finishing this myself.”

Wade chuckled, unfazed. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that, man. It’s just one night. Besides…” He shot Logan a knowing look. “I saw the way you looked at her. Maybe you should be thanking me. Gave you a chance to make a move.”

Logan didn’t respond, but Wade’s words hit uncomfortably close to the truth. He had been distracted. He’d let his focus slip, and now he was paying for it.

Without another word, Logan turned on his heel and stalked away, pushing through the crowd toward the exit. The night air hit him like a slap, cool and bracing, but it didn’t do much to ease the frustration roiling inside him. He’d let Wade derail the mission, let his own emotions cloud his judgment, and now the whole thing felt like a waste.

As he started down the street, his mind drifted back to her—the way she’d looked at him, the faint trace of hurt in her eyes before she’d walked away. He clenched his fists, a new determination hardening in his chest. He might have blown this mission tonight, but he wasn’t done. Not with the mission, and not with her.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan had barely made it back to the apartment before exhaustion took hold, weighing down his limbs. He kicked off his boots and peeled off his shirt, letting it drop carelessly to the floor before sinking onto the bed. His mind was still tangled with thoughts of her—her quiet smile, the guarded look in her eyes, the way she’d walked away with her friend’s encouragement. He’d messed things up, and the night felt like one long series of missed chances.

He’d only been asleep for a couple of hours when a noise jolted him awake. At first, he thought it was part of some half-formed nightmare or maybe just the usual racket from one of the neighbors. But then he caught something familiar—her voice, muffled through the thin walls. He strained his hearing, every instinct snapping to attention. A glance at the grimy clock on his nightstand told him it was 1:29 a.m.

She must have just gotten home. But she wasn’t alone.

Logan sat up, his heartbeat quickening. He knew he should let it go, should just lie back down and ignore whatever was happening on the other side of the wall. But before he could think better of it, he slipped out of bed, padding across the creaky floorboards to the front door. He pressed his ear to the wall, barely breathing, his heightened senses picking up every word.

The guy’s voice was low and easy, with that too-smooth tone Logan had learned to distrust. He sounded friendly enough, but there was an edge of expectation, a subtle suggestion that grated against Logan’s nerves.

“So… tonight was fun,” the guy was saying, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Maybe we could do it again? Tomorrow, maybe?”

Logan could picture her expression without even seeing it—those walls going up, that faint, polite smile she used when she didn’t want to let someone in. He heard her let out a soft sigh.

“I’m… not really sure about tomorrow,” she replied, her voice guarded, cautious. “I have a lot going on.”

The guy chuckled, but there was a forced quality to it. “Come on, just a drink or something. You don’t have to play so hard to get, you know?”

Logan felt his jaw clench, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The guy was pushing, trying to wear down her resistance, and it grated on him like sandpaper. He didn’t like the way it sounded, didn’t like the edge in the guy’s voice like he thought he could charm his way past her boundaries. Logan’s instinct to protect her flared, raw, and almost territorial, even though he knew he had no right to feel that way.

There was a pause, and he could hear her shifting, probably stepping back, putting a little distance between them. “It’s not that,” she said, a little too politely. “I just… need some space, that’s all. Tonight was nice, but—”

“Space, huh?” the guy interrupted, his tone slipping from charming to something a little sharper. “You know, you don’t make it easy, do you?”

Logan could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the urge to step outside and tell this guy to back off building with each word. But he held himself in check, forcing himself to stay silent, to let her handle it. She didn’t need him barging in like some kind of white knight, as much as he wanted to.

Another pause, and he heard her take a breath, steady but firm. “I appreciate tonight. Really. But I’m not looking for… anything serious.”

The guy let out a huff, barely masking his disappointment. “All right,” he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t happy about it. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Logan listened, tense, as he heard the guy’s footsteps retreating down the hallway. Only when he heard the click of her door closing did he let out the breath he’d been holding. His fists unclenched, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. He knew she’d handled it. She didn’t need him intervening. But the way the guy had pushed, the subtle pressure in his tone… made Logan’s blood simmer.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slipped into the hallway, moving quietly until he reached her door. He hesitated, one hand raised, hovering just above the wood. Part of him knew he should just let it be, go back to his apartment, and leave her alone. But he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him, the urge to make sure she was really all right.

He knocked, softly at first, then a little louder when he didn’t hear anything.

A moment later, the door cracked open, and she peered out, eyes widening when she saw him. She looked tired, her makeup smudged, a faint crease of worry lingering between her brows. “Logan?” she said, sounding surprised, her voice soft and uncertain. “What are you…?”

He swallowed, his voice coming out rougher than he’d meant. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay. I heard him… y’know. Talking.”

She sighed, glancing back into her apartment for a moment before opening the door a little wider. “You were listening?” she asked, a faint hint of annoyance in her tone.

Logan shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just… wanted to make sure he didn’t give you any trouble.”

She looked at him, her expression softening, the guardedness melting away just a little. “It’s fine, Logan. Really. He was… nice, mostly. Just… maybe he wanted something I’m not ready to give.”

Logan nodded, relief mingling with an odd sense of satisfaction at her words. “Good. That he’s gone, I mean.” He hesitated, then added, quieter, “I just didn’t like the way he sounded. Like he thought he could… push you around.”

Her lips pressed into a faint smile, something close to gratitude in her eyes. “Thanks. But I can handle guys like that.” She let out a tired laugh. “I’ve been handling guys like that for a while now.”

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze searching hers. “Yeah. I know you can.” He paused, then added, almost reluctantly, “But you don’t have to do it alone, y’know. If anyone bothers you… I’m right across the hall.”

She looked up at him, her eyes lingering on his face, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of vulnerability there—a quiet gratitude she wasn’t quite ready to express. But then she shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Logan,” she murmured. “But… I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep an eye on me. I don’t want to be someone’s… responsibility.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I just… I care. That’s all.”

Her eyes softened, and she looked away, swallowing hard. “I don’t see why you care. Why you would…given…we barely know each other.” She paused, carefully considering her words. “But it’s been a long time since someone cared,” she admitted quietly, almost as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Logan could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her shoulder, but he stopped himself, dropping his hand before it made contact.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he said, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here.”

She gave him a small, hesitant smile, a hint of hope breaking through the walls she kept so carefully in place. “Thank you, Logan.”

He nodded, stepping back to give her space, though he didn’t want to leave. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

She nodded, watching him as he turned to go, lingering in the doorway as if part of her didn’t want to close the door just yet. As he walked back to his apartment, he felt something shift in him—a quiet, steady resolve to be there, to be someone she could trust.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan was pacing back and forth in the small, dingy apartment, so agitated that even Wade seemed annoyed for once. Wade lounged on the couch, a magazine in one hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face as he watched Logan wearing a path into the floor.

“Why are you like this?” Wade finally snapped, tossing the magazine aside. “Did your parents not love you, or something? Because this level of brooding is painful to watch, even for me.”

Logan shot him a glare, but he didn’t have a comeback this time. His usual sarcasm was buried under a mess of thoughts he couldn’t quite untangle. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice coming out quieter, almost hesitant. “It’s just… she actually seemed like she wanted to talk to me last night. Like, really talk.”

Wade rolled his eyes, folding his arms behind his head. “God, I don’t see how I keep missing your late-night heart-to-hearts in the hallway,” he said with exaggerated interest. “Sounds like you’re one step away from serenading her or something.”

Logan’s eyes kept drifting to the door, that nagging worry gnawing at him. He hadn’t heard her leave her apartment all morning, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, Wade sat up, giving him a pointed look. “Look, man, there’s only one way to stop acting like a lovesick teenager. Just go knock on her door. You’re driving me nuts over here.”

Logan hesitated, shifting his weight. Part of him hated the idea of just showing up unannounced, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of urgency. He needed to see her, to know she was okay. Before he could talk himself out of it, he gave Wade a grudging nod and headed for the door.

"Finally," Wade muttered behind him, smirking. "Go get her, tiger."

Logan ignored him, stepping into the dim hallway. He crossed the few steps to her apartment, his hand hovering just above the door. He took a breath, steadying himself, then knocked—softly at first, then louder when there was no response.

Silence.

He waited, his heartbeat picking up as seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. He knocked again, pressing his ear to the door, straining to hear any movement inside. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no soft shuffle of her usual routine. An uneasy feeling crept over him. He hadn’t heard her leave that morning. Had he missed something? Was she—

Just then, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps echoing up the stairwell, and he turned, relief flooding him. But the relief was short-lived, quickly turning into confusion as he took in the scene.

She was coming up the stairs, but she wasn’t alone. Walking beside her was the guy from last night—the one her friend had set her up with. The guy was laughing, leaning a little too close to her, and Logan felt his jaw tighten instinctively. She had her arms crossed, her posture guarded but polite, and though she didn’t look particularly comfortable, she wasn’t pushing him away either.

Logan stood frozen, his hand still raised as if to knock, caught between relief and a prickling sense of jealousy. She looked up and noticed him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“Logan,” she said, stopping on the landing. Her voice was a mix of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite place—maybe guilt, or hesitation.

The guy at her side glanced between them, raising an eyebrow. “Oh… hey,” he said, clearly picking up on the tension in the air. He smiled awkwardly, extending a hand. “I’m Jared. I, uh… guess you’re a neighbor?”

Logan didn’t take his hand, barely sparing him a glance. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and rough. His eyes were fixed on her, searching her face, trying to read her expression.

She shifted uncomfortably, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “We… just ran into each other downstairs,” she explained, her gaze flicking between Logan and Jared. “He was just walking me up.”

Jared chuckled, clearly oblivious to the undercurrent in the air. “Yeah, thought I’d make sure she got back safe, y’know? This neighborhood’s not exactly the friendliest.”

Logan felt a surge of irritation, but he forced himself to stay calm, to keep his expression neutral. “She can handle herself,” he replied, the words coming out sharper than he intended. He saw her flinch and instantly regretted it, but he couldn’t help the tension coiling in his chest.

Jared blinked, clearly sensing he wasn’t welcome, and took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, man. No need to get territorial,” he said with a forced laugh. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He turned to her, flashing a hopeful smile. “So… maybe we could catch up tomorrow? Grab a coffee or something?”

She hesitated, glancing briefly at Logan before nodding, though her smile looked a little forced. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll… let you know.”

Jared grinned, clearly taking that as a yes, and gave a little wave before heading back down the stairs. Logan watched him go, barely breathing until the sound of his footsteps faded completely. Only then did he turn to her, his expression softening as he searched her face.

“Did… you need something?” she asked, her gaze lingering on him, one eyebrow raised in quiet suspicion.

Logan cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to knock on her door, but now that he was here, his brain seemed to be working at half-speed.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and forcing himself to meet her eyes. “I was wondering if you had… y’know… some eggs I could borrow.”

Her expression didn’t shift, but he saw the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Eggs?” she repeated like she was testing the word.

Logan felt himself growing more flustered. “Yeah. Eggs. They’re… good for protein,” he added lamely, the words sounding as awkward out loud as they felt in his head.

She watched him for a moment, clearly trying to decide if she believed him or not. A small, skeptical smile played at the corner of her lips like she could see right through his excuse but was willing to humor him.

“Sure. I think I’ve got some,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in while I go grab them from the kitchen.”

Logan hesitated, then nodded, slipping past her into the apartment. The warmth of her space hit him immediately, and he found himself surprised by how… homey it was. The faint scent of vanilla and something floral hung in the air, and soft lighting cast a cozy glow over everything. It was nothing like the dingy, bare-bones apartment he shared with Wade. Where his walls were chipped and peeling, hers were lined with neatly hung prints and framed photographs, small touches that gave the place a warmth he hadn’t expected.

As she disappeared into the kitchen, he let his gaze wander, taking in the shelves along one wall, filled with books. Dozens of them, all stacked neatly, some with worn covers and dog-eared pages, like they’d been read and re-read over the years. He noticed a mix of genres—mystery novels, classic literature, a few non-fiction titles, and even some poetry. It was the kind of collection that spoke to someone who spent a lot of time alone, lost in worlds beyond these walls.

He moved closer to one of the shelves, fingers ghosting over the spines without touching. A few books were stacked horizontally, others arranged by height. There was a kind of organized chaos to it, a personal touch that made him feel like he was seeing a side of her he hadn’t glimpsed before. He felt a strange pang of… something. Envy, maybe, or admiration. This was her space, her sanctuary, carefully built to be hers. And here he was, intruding on it.

“Didn’t peg you for a reader,” her voice came from behind him, light and teasing.

Logan turned, a bit flustered, caught off guard by her sudden reappearance. She held a carton of eggs in one hand, watching him with that same amused expression, like she knew he was lying about the whole “egg” thing but was willing to let it slide.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his head, feeling like he’d been caught red-handed. “Not really. Don’t have time for it.”

She shrugged, giving him a small smile as she set the egg carton on the counter. “Reading isn’t for everyone.”

He nodded, still taking in her apartment, feeling a strange comfort settle over him in the warmth of her space. “It’s… nice in here,” he admitted, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Didn’t expect it to feel so… I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So what?”

“Homey, I guess,” he said, almost embarrassed to admit it. “My place… it’s nothing like this.”

A faint, sympathetic smile softened her face. “Well, your roommate doesn’t exactly scream ‘homey,’” she teased, glancing around as if imagining Wade sprawled across her carefully arranged furniture, disrupting the calm. “Not really surprised you don’t put much into decorating.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. Wade’s more… chaos than cozy.”

She laughed softly, a genuine, relaxed sound that made his chest feel unexpectedly warm. “I can’t even picture him reading a book.”

“Pretty sure he’d complain about the ‘small font’ and give up in five minutes,” Logan muttered, and she laughed again, a light, melodic sound that filled the space in a way that felt… right.

For a moment, they stood there in comfortable silence, the unspoken tension between them somehow lessened by the simple act of sharing a space. He glanced at the egg carton, feeling a little foolish now that he had no real reason to stay.

“Thanks for the eggs,” he mumbled, reaching for the carton but not quite moving to leave. “Didn’t need them, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, a knowing look in her eyes. “Yeah, I figured,” she said, her voice gentle but laced with amusement. “So… why did you come by?”

Logan hesitated, feeling a sudden vulnerability he wasn’t used to. “I guess… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After last night, and then seeing you with that guy this morning…” He trailed off, running a hand over his face. “It just didn’t sit right with me.”

Her expression softened, and she looked down, fingers tracing absent patterns on the counter. “Jared,” she said as if the name left a sour taste. “Monica’s idea. She thinks I need to ‘put myself out there.’” She rolled her eyes, a faint bitterness creeping into her tone. “It’s not really my thing, but… I figured I’d try.”

Logan studied her, catching the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You didn’t seem too thrilled with him,” he observed, trying to keep his tone casual.

She shrugged, her smile a little sad. “He’s… nice. I just don’t know if ‘nice’ is enough.” She glanced up, meeting his gaze, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary. “I guess I’ve got my own walls. Maybe it’s easier to push people away than to… let them in.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, recognizing himself in her words. “Yeah. I know how that goes,” he murmured, his voice low. “People tend to… make assumptions, think they know you just because of how you look or act. Sometimes it’s easier to let them believe what they want.”

She nodded, her gaze dropping again, her fingers still tracing absent shapes on the counter. “And what do people assume about you?” she asked, almost too softly.

He swallowed, feeling a familiar pang of vulnerability that he usually kept buried. “They see… this,” he said, gesturing to himself, to the rough exterior, the scars that lined his knuckles, the tension that seemed to live in his shoulders. “And they think I’m nothing but that. Just… rough edges. An animal.”

She looked up, her gaze soft and understanding, and he felt that ache again, the need to be seen, really seen. “You’re not just that,” she said quietly, her words barely more than a whisper. “I can see that you're more than that…now.”

A warmth lingered between them, subtle but undeniable. Logan could feel it settling over him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Standing here, in her space, surrounded by traces of her life, he felt an unfamiliar sense of belonging—like, for once, he wasn’t just some outsider passing through.

She let out a small sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Anyway,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, almost shy. “Thanks for checking on me.”

He nodded, swallowing back the impulse to reach out, to close the last inch of space between them. “Yeah. Anytime,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.

She led him to the door, holding it open as he stepped into the dim hallway. Logan hesitated, lingering just outside her apartment, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. The words were out of his mouth before he could second-guess himself.

“Would you… maybe want to come over?” He forced a small, awkward smile. “I’m sure Wade would love the company.”

She looked up at him, her expression caught between surprise and something softer. A small smile touched her lips, but she shook her head, a hint of apology in her eyes. “I would, but… being around people sort of… drains me.”

He watched her, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying, something fragile behind the simple explanation.

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the door, her gaze flickering up to meet his. “Not you, though,” she added softly, almost as if the words had slipped out without her permission. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away quickly. “Just… people in general. Introvert thing, I guess.”

Logan felt a flicker of something warm and unfamiliar in his chest. She hadn’t meant to single him out, but the admission hung in the air between them, as delicate and unsteady as a breath. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “No problem.”

She looked back up at him, a softness in her eyes that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to let him in. It wasn’t much—not yet—but it was enough to make his pulse quicken, to make him feel like he’d taken a step closer to something he’d been chasing without even knowing it.

“See you, Logan,” she whispered, her voice lingering in the quiet air, her eyes holding his for just a beat longer than necessary.

“See you,” he replied, his voice equally soft, reluctant. He took a step back, the warmth of her presence already beginning to fade, and gave her a small nod before turning away.

As he made his way down the hallway, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—a door, barely open, but open nonetheless.

[keepmycandleburning]

It's always frustrating to me when I see people's misunderstandings about the degree to which a writer's words and writing choices are intentional. There are many types of writing and some people may be writing for fun or whatever, but in a story that is complex and carefully put together, the writer's choices are not coincidences or things that just so happen to be that way, they are carefully and precisely made choices that are designed that way to communicate something to the reader.

Surprisingly often I will see people write these complex and meaningful HP analyses, and then end their post with 'but I'm sure Rowling didn't mean any of that, or even think about it, she just wrote it this way because she's stupid.' All of that was somehow magically in the text for you to find and analyze, and she didn't even mean to write it? EVERY word of these books was typed by a human hand and reread with human eyes.

Think of how for example people will say foolish things like 'Did JKR just forget that Bellatrix was married?' Bellatrix being married is a HUGE part of who she is, who Voldemort is, how the DEs function, how the traditional pureblood families and marriages and culture function... You're missing SO MUCH of the meaning in the text by denying the writer's intentionality.

Same with things like mistaking her world-building for being statements of her real-world beliefs. 'Here's an in-depth analysis of what the text implies about gender and sexism in pureblood culture... but JKR probably just wrote all this because she's sexist, and I magically put meaning into it that makes perfect sense' ??? The idea that a writer will only write sexism into their fictional world because they're communicating that they think sexism is good is insanity. Characters don't do things solely because their writer thinks that is proper behavior. Characters' behaviors or words, or elements of the fictional world the story exists in, are not straight-forward statements of what the writer thinks is good or ideal, and in fact are often the opposite. If you can't analyze things with such complexity, that's a problem with your reading comprehension, not with the text.

Or, when people will treat the text too much like it's a real life event that happened, rather than something that was carefully put together by hand to mean something. I love analyzing characters and the HP world like they're real, but when you find yourself denying meaning by using logic like 'well it probably just happened that way for no deeper reason' you're just misunderstanding what fiction is.

For example attempting to disprove the numerous hints at the Bellatrix/Voldemort relationship by saying things like 'but other people call her Bella so it could have meant anything' or 'there are other types of pleasure than sexual so it could have meant anything.' But why would Rowling choose that word? And put it right next to Bellatrix longing for his physical closeness? And why would she set up this exchange at all? Why 'lover'? Why 'lover' placed so directly with physical closeness and care? Why 'lover' and 'pleasure' and 'longing' and 'closeness' in the same book? Why have Harry point out that she's acting in an intimate way that invokes being lovers? Why do other characters later use 'Bella,' if not to communicate that it's used by people she considers/ed family?

When everything that 'could mean anything' all lead to the same answer, why is that? Why are you assuming Rowling's implications are for some reason unintentional? Unintentional over and over and over again? If many readers are catching it, why are you assuming she's not smart enough to catch it herself? The only person not catching it here is you. Word choices or words with clear connotations are not random or accidents or coincidences, particularly when several of them occur in quick succession or when it's associated repeatedly with the same two characters. Nor are characterizations or patterns in the text. If you read that way, that's a misunderstanding on your end (not with the author, not with other readers) so don't complain when you can't understand the text. 'I'm going to act like the person who wrote this is stupid, and therefore ignore everything that the text is saying, and then say the text sucks' is YOU being an idiot. Notice how other people don't have this issue when they analyze actual meaning and intentionality in the text

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove (A Zombie!Ghost Story) Chapter Eleven

Summary: “You want me to read to you?” She asked after a moment of hesitation, reluctantly accepting the book. Simon nodded, embarrassed but refusing to show it. What he really wanted was for her to teach him to read again, but that was too much to ask for. So he’d settle for the sweet sound of her voice telling him stories. Word Count: 2413 Warnings: vaguely erotic candy sharing, mentions of past abuse, mostly just fluff tbh (this story has a surprising amount of fluff for being set in a literal zombie apocalypse) Notes: Sorry about not updating last week--I was on vacation and had forgotten my laptop. I have also decided I will be posting on Sundays from now on. Hopefully still once a week, but I'm running out of pre-written chapters, and with the semester starting again soon, I am not sure how much time I will have for writing. I've also been struggling a bit with motivation. All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider inidcates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Also, the poems referenced in this chapter are, in order of appearance: i am at the bottom by Innokenty Annensky (translation by R.H. Morrison), Invictus by William Ernest Henry, and i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) by E.E. Cummings. AO3, Masterlist

When the sun began to cast its weak winter light into the bedroom, Ghost carefully untangled himself from his dove, smoothing a hand over her hair before leaving to check the kitchen. He found a single box of stale cereal, already open and mostly empty. It wasn’t enough. He cast a glance outside, at the knee high snow drifts. There was no way she could go out to search for supplies. He would have to leave her behind and search himself. He was far from pleased with that, but especially since he hadn't yet had the chance to clear the village, but he didn’t have much of a choice. At least she would be safer in the house than she was the tree.

Taking advantage of the mixing bowls and pots left behind, Ghost collected freshly fallen snow in every single one he could find, then brought them back inside to melt. That was the one good thing about the snow. For as long as it was clean, Lelia could drink it.

“Simon?”

He heard his dove calling him from the bedroom, and he grunted loudly to let her know he was still here. A second later, little footsteps padded into the kitchen to join him. Her long hair was mussed from sleep, and a thick quilt was wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, dwarfing her small frame. He wondered if she’d look just as tiny wearing nothing but his shirt. Innocent and soft with sleep, just begging to be lifted up onto the table so he could spread her legs and ravish her…

Ghost looked away quickly. He couldn’t think like that. Especially not after what she’d confided in him last night.

Last night, when he had cradled her close, and she'd let him touch her face with the same reverence she did his whenever she brushed his teeth. When he’d leaned their foreheads together, her hot breath misting over his face. Her pink, pouty lips had been so close, close enough to touch his own… if he’d had any.

“Good morning,” his dove yawned as she approached, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Simon stiffened, before automatically hugging her back. He couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t make love to her, but he could treasure every touch she gave him, just like he’d promised himself he would last night.

He slowly, painstakingly uttered a garbled ‘Good morning, Dove,’ back. It sounded more like an animal dying, but Lelia beamed up at him anyway, cheeks pink.

“I bet if we found a way to fix your jaw, you’d be able to speak clearly,” she said, reaching up to carefully hold his hanging jaw in place. The broken bones grinded against each other, and his teeth clacked together loudly. His dove rubbed her fingers against his skin soothingly, even though she knew by now that he didn't feel pain. She sighed. “But I have no idea how we’d go about doing that.”

He covered her hand with his, squeezing it gently before pulling it away from his face. His jaw flopped open grotesquely, but Lelia didn't flinch. It warmed something inside him.

Keeping a hold of her hand, he led her over to the table, which was loaded up with bowls, pots, and even mugs full of half melted snow. Her eyes brightened, and he didn't have to tell her what they were for. She grabbed the closest mug and downed its slushy contents, smacking her lips and shivering afterwards. Ghost chuckled, and she grinned cheekily at him. Christ, he swore that one of these days, her smile would restart his heart.

Ghost returned to his dove after several hours spent combing the village for supplies. He’d not gone far, so he’d only managed to clear a small part of it, but he was unwilling to leave her alone for any longer than he had to.

He knocked on the locked door three times, paused, and then twice more. After a moment, Lelia opened it, still wrapped in her blanket, and he stepped inside, stomping on the floor to shake the snow from his boots.

“Did you find anything?” She asked, and Ghost would have grinned if he could. He swung the rucksack off his shoulder and reached inside, pulling out a candy bar and presenting it to her. Her face lit up, eyes bright, and she threw herself at him in a hug. He chuckled and hugged her back for a few seconds before gently pushing her away, not wanting to get her wet.

He hadn’t found much else—just a couple cans of food, and a new torch—but he tried not to let his worry show, not wanting to ruin the small moment of happiness for her. She’d already ripped open the silvery wrapper, and she took a big bite, moaning in delight at the taste. Ghost wrangled his depraved thoughts, morbidly glad that his cock couldn't twitch and give him away.

Lelia savored the bite of chocolate, caramel, and peanuts for a long moment, eyes closed and expression one of bliss. Simon savored her in turn, the upward tilt of her lips, the chocolate smeared on her chin, and the sticky, smacking noises of her chewing. Her joy was sweeter to him than any candy could ever hope to be.

Finally, Lelia swallowed, opening her eyes again as she broke off a small piece, holding it up to his mouth.

“I know human food doesn’t… fuel you,” she started, and he tried not to laugh again at the careful way she phrased it. “But does it still taste good, at least?”

Ghost eyed the piece of candy skeptically. He couldn’t recall ever trying regular food after turning. He didn’t think he’d ever even thought of it—the craving for flesh was far too strong.

He couldn’t smell the sugary sweetness of the candy bar, but it did look appealing. Or perhaps it was his dove’s chocolate covered fingers that had him beginning to drool…

Before he could turn away, she popped the piece of candy into his mouth, holding it there. She set the rest of the bar down on the table and reached up with her other hand, gently grabbing his broken jaw and beginning to move it up and down, helping him chew. Simon stared at her, his ruined brain lagging like a shitty computer—even as his tongue greedily lapped at her skin, ignoring the candy entirely. Lelia blushed, and that sweet, musky scent of her arousal soon filled the air.

“Do you like it?” She asked, her voice slightly breathy. Simon nodded, practically in a trance, and quickly swallowed the candy. He reached up to hold onto her wrist, though, keeping her fingers in his mouth and he methodically licked each digit clean. She gasped quietly, but didn’t pull away, big doe eyes looking straight into his own.

He stopped himself before he began to slobber all over her palm like a dog—or worse, try to take a bite. Lelia shivered when the cold air hit her spit-soaked skin, and he grabbed a rag from the kitchen sink, beginning to clean it for her. The two of them stood in slightly awkward silence, until she picked up the candy bar and took another—much smaller—bite, and hummed happily.

“Thank you, Simon,” she said, voice earnest and grateful. “I needed this. I needed something good.”

The corner of her lips quirked up in a smile again.

“I’ll have to figure out a way to repay you,” she said, voice soft and teasing. “What would you like? A filet mignon? Baked Alaska?”

“A blowie?” Johnny's voice echoed in his head, whiny in a playful way. It sounded less like an interjection this time, and more like a memory. “C’mon, Si, ye owe me fer tha’ bit o’ friendly fire! Nearly took me bollocks off!”

Ghost tried to cling onto the strange memory, to examine it further, but it slipped away like water through a sieve. He focused back on the present, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully before nodding at his dove. There was something that he’d been wanting to ask her…

He stepped closer, reaching into the breast pocket of her leather jacket and pulling out a small book. The cover was red and made of worn leather, with faded, gilded letters embossed on the front. She sucked in a startled breath. Clearly she hadn’t realized he’d known about the book she always carried around, never taking it out in front of him. He felt a bit bad, guessing it was supposed to be a secret—but she’d offered. He opened it to a random page and held it out to her, unable to meet her eyes.

“You want me to read to you?” She asked after a moment of hesitation, reluctantly accepting the book. Simon nodded, embarrassed but refusing to show it. What he really wanted was for her to teach him to read again, but that was too much to ask for. So he’d settle for the sweet sound of her voice telling him stories.

“Alright…” she trailed off nervously. She took his hand and began to pull him over to the couch. She was stalling, that much was clear. “Let's get comfortable, first.”

He let her sit him down, let her take his wet boots off—resolutely ignoring the dirty thoughts that stirred at seeing her on her knees in front of him—let her fluff up the pillows and arrange them just right before curling up on the opposite end of the couch, book in her lap. He sat patiently as she stared down at it for a long moment, working up her courage. And when she finally opened it again, he leaned forward, full of anticipation as she flipped through the pages.

“Most of this book is in Russian,” she admitted. He blinked in surprise, and she huffed a little laugh. “It’s my first language. My parents were displeased by that. I was their own fault for letting my governess raise me all by herself, though.”

She shook her head, stopping at a page a third of the way into the book.

“My first word was яблоня. The Russian word for apple,” she told him, a small, sad smile on her face. “It’s what I named my teddy bear. I kept that bear until Andrew threw it away on our we— I mean… well. Until Andrew threw it away.”

On our wedding night.

The missing words were easy enough to fill in. Simon remembered the time she’d almost spoken about a husband. He remembered how disgruntled he’d been by the thought that she was married. How jealous. Now, he only felt a simmering rage in his chest, like a false heartbeat. If he ever laid eyes on Lelia’s husband, he’d tear him apart.

“Anyway,” she whispered, delicately learning her throat and quickly moving on, clearly not wanting to be questioned about her slip. “I’ve translated some of them, or at least my favorite stanzas. I’ll read you one of those.”

Poems? He thought curiously, eyes on her as he listened with rapt attention. Of course she liked poetry. Pretty words with hidden depths. Just like her.

Then, she began to read.

“I am at the bottom; I am a sorrowful

Fragment; above me the water is shimmering

Green. Out of the heavy glass darkness

There are no roads for anyone to anywhere…”

“I didn't always like that one,” she admitted into the silence that followed. Simon was still digesting the poem, his ears ringing a little bit. The words had touched something deep inside him, whispering of memories just out of reach. “But that was because I didn’t understand it, then.”

He grunted, moving a little closer to her and tapping the book.

“Another?” She asked, surprised. He nodded, and she blushed, looking unsure. “I don't know… I don’t want to bore you…”

Ghost gave her an unimpressed look and just tapped the book again, a little harder this time.

“Fine, fine,” she huffed, but he could see the slight amusement in her eyes. She flipped through the book for a moment before stopping, dragging her fingertip down the page. She was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering over the lines, before speaking again. “This one… this one is one of my favorites. It’s not a translation. Just an English classic.”

“Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.”

There were tears in his dove’s eyes by the time she finished, and Simon reached out to wipe away one that slipped down her cheek. She let out a little embarrassed laugh, ducking her head and scrubbing at her face.

“Sorry,” she whispered, closing the book. “That one always makes me emotional.”

He could guess why. He only knew an inkling of what she had been through, but that was enough. That she was still standing at all was proof of how strong she was, in his opinion. Bloody but unbowed indeed.

Simon managed to convince her to keep going, and at some point over the last hour, his head had ended up in her lap as he laid down across the couch. She carded her fingers through his hair as she read aloud, choosing her favorites—but avoiding any that she herself had written. They were far too embarrassing.

Had she not known better, she would have thought Simon was asleep. His eyes were closed, a deep, content rumbling echoing from his chest. She had to stop herself from giggling when she realized how much he resembled a cat, like that.

“And this is the secret that’s keeping the stars apart,” Lelia recited the last two lines of what had been her favorite love poem for most of her life. She wasn’t even looking at the book anymore, her soft gaze focused on Simon, eyes tracing the features of his mask. She wished he would let her see under it. She wouldn’t flinch away from whatever she found—nothing could make her see him as anything other than beautiful, not anymore. “I carry your heart; I carry it in my heart.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think of Ginny as a “pick me girl”? Some of the things you say in your post makes her come across as that, which is sad since she is a strong female character and there’s so many m|m bloggers who shitting on strong female characters these days.

I don't know if you're just looking for a fight or if you're genuine, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt about this subject once.

Yes, I think Ginny comes off as a bit of a "pick me" which I already wrote about here, which I don't think was intentional on JKR's part. I don't think Ginny was intended to come off the way she did.

Like, Ginny in the early books is just, really boring, in my opinion. and I think Ginny in book 5 had the potential to be an interesting character. She had a good sense of humor and she seemed somewhat in line with the twins (though on the crueler side), but I despise Ginny of books 6 and 7.

Like, all power to you for like Ginny and her romance with Harry. Truly, have fun with your canon pairing, I wish you the best and that you find many fics that portray them just as you like to see them.

But I don't see them that way. I think Ginny is a badly written character, and I think her romance with Harry is similarly badly written. It has nothing to do with gay ships. Trust me, if Harry was written into a compelling romance with a well-written female character, I'd be all over that. But he wasn't.

I mean, hell, I don't even ship Drarry, which is the most popular gay ship for Harry because I don't like Draco much. I think he's written well for what he is in the story, but I just don't vibe with him.

Becouse I don't need an excuse to dislike a character or a pairing. I can give my reasons, I have them, but I'm (and anyone else is) allowed to say I just don't vibe with a character. Even if Ginny was the best-written character in literature (she isn't) and her romance with Harry was perfectly written (it isn't) I could still shit on her as much as I want to, you know why?

Becouse she's fictional.

Fictional characters can't be offended. You can't be mean to a fictional character. Because fictional characters don't have feelings. They're not real.

You can say you personally find it sad people don't like Ginny the way you do, and you can be personally disappointed — but it isn't objectively sad. It isn't sad for Ginny becouse Ginny isn't real and only real people have feelings. It's sad to you, that's your opinion.

I love Harry, he's my favorite and I made it no secret, but I have good irl friends who shit on him in casual conversation and I can laugh with them when they make a funny joke about him even when we disagree, you know why? — we agree to disagree. We know Harry is fictional and that he doesn't care. Because he isn't real, he can't care.

So, for me, it doesn't matter if you shit and hate on fictional characters and fictional relationships as long as you're decent to real people.

You aren't a misogynist for disliking a female fictional character. She's fictional. She isn't real. You would be a misogynist if you mistreated irl women because they're women. In the same vein, you aren't a homophobe for disliking a popular gay ship. You would be a homophobe if you mistreated irl gay people because of their sexuality. You aren't wrong for disliking a fictional character or ship for any reason, even if the reason is just "vibes". You would be a dick if you mistreated irl people because they don't think the same as you about a fictional character or ship.

I personally find it sad that fandom seems to have lost the ability to say "agree to disagree" and move on (if the ability ever existed in the first place). I follow some blogs who shit on HJP himself because they post other stuff I find compelling. I follow blogs that post a lot of Drarry because I like how they write Harry even if I don't really care for Draco. You can like someone and enjoy their writing and be friendly with them even if you don't agree with them on some fictional characters and fictional relationships. And if it really bothers you, you can block and move on as many of us do.

So yeah, I think Ginny comes off as a "pick me." I think she's a badly written character, and you can disagree with me on that, you can think she's a strong female character, but that's your opinion, not an objective truth. And I dislike her for being a badly written character, which, I assure you, is gender-natural.

I also think it's important to remember that at the end of the day, we're all just playing with dolls, and the only feelings that matter are those of real people.

[daresplaining]

Hey Dare! I have been thinking about Elektra and Natasha with Matt and how similar they are. To me, they both seem to be characters that feel forced to be 'good' but know they can't be because the world isn't black and white (for example, Elektra not being allowed into the Chaste for being impure, so she becomes an assassin, Natasha being a spy but not a hero). In what ways do you think these characters are different from one another? And does Matt play a unique role in each of their lives?

I love "Dare"; thank you for that! And I'm sorry it's taken me so long to answer this.

It's really compelling to look at the parallels between Natasha and Elektra, because you're right, they have a lot in common--mainly, that they are both in professions that require a deep cynicism, a healthy emotional distance, and a very specific moral compass. They are good people molded into hard people by life, who have become very good at doing some very unpleasant things, and have found ways to live with that. I think Natasha leans far more into the realm of the term "hero"-- she has served on superhero teams and been in the public eye in that capacity, her partnership with Matt certainly placed her in the role of a superhero more than a spy, and if you were to shop for superhero merch in the Marvel universe...I'd say Black Widow would be about 90% more likely to show up on a t-shirt than Elektra. However, she is still very much a spy, with a spy's pragmatism that doesn't always align with the heroic, and she holds no illusions about who and what she is. A while back I wrote a post about one of my favorite Black Widow stories, "Breakdown", which is all about the moral distinctions between being a spy and being a superhero.

However, Natasha seems to be able to hop back and forth across that line, carrying out top-secret missions and maintaining her status as a world-class spy while also beating up supervillains alongside her superhero friends. Her goal is to do good in the world, and she is able to do so in both of these roles--largely because some Black Widow writers want to write spy stories, and others want to write her swinging across rooftops and kicking Stilt-Man in the face, and one of the fun and unique things about her character is that she can encompass both of those genres so well.

Elektra, however, is an assassin, full stop. We have the by now (I hope) classic line from the first issue of the Blackman/Del Mundo run:

"I have often tried to be something more. At nine, I dreamt of being a ballerina. But that required a form of balance I did not possess. At nineteen, I secretly studied figure painting behind my father's back. But I could never see past the models' skin and muscle. All my classes ended with half-naked canvases marred by twisted limbs and slack faces. I have even played at being a hero. But I could not bear how foolish I felt every time I spared someone who was determined to kill me. I am not a dancer, or an artist, or a hero. I am no longer a daughter or a lover...victim or student or slave. I am, and I will always be...someone's assassin."

I would suggest that this line is not fully reflective of the truth of Elektra's childhood, but is instead a fatalistic look back from her current state of mind, since it suggests the idea that she was always fated to be an assassin, which is (at least in her original origin story, which I am stubbornly clinging to for now) simply not true. Elektra was a good, hopeful, kind person backed into a terrible corner, who became very, very good at killing for money because it was the only path that seemed to be left for her after the death of her father, after her rejection by the Chaste, and after her disastrously failed attempt at taking down the Hand from the inside, which led to her killing the only mentor figure she had left and leaving her alone in the world. Elektra does not like what she is, but she is confident in what she is and she takes a certain pride in being the best there is at what she does (sorry, Wolverine). Her tragedy is, to me, far greater than Natasha's because Elektra is so often alone. In her early appearances, Natasha thought she was cursed because so many of the men she loved died, and she does experience isolation that I absolutely do not want to downplay, but just based on my reading experience, Elektra's is more painful and has continued on for far longer. She sees her world as cold and dark and drenched in blood, and the times she has tried to change that, she has failed spectacularly. All she can do is look for glimpses of light and warmth-- her rose-tinted memories of her time with Matt in college and the opportunities she has, when she allows it and when he allows it, to see him again in the present; her deep, powerful bond with Wolverine, in whom she sees so much of herself; the brief other relationships she allows herself, romantic or otherwise... Elektra has shown a tendency, over the years, of encountering and protecting young women and girls, which I think is a really nice trend, though it doesn't always end well.

Matt is a happy memory for both of them. For Elektra, the last time she was truly happy in life was that last semester in college before her father's death, and the time she spent with Matt was a part of that. She thinks of that period fondly, and her love for Matt is something that she holds close and cherishes, no matter what else has happened since. He reminds her of a better time, and while she has her own life now, she still keeps an eye on him. They've tried to get back together a few times, but it's never worked. Everything is different now. For Natasha, Matt is a reliable friend and ally, someone she can always go to. There is a strong physical attraction between them that lingers, and on various occasions, Natasha has dropped back into his life with the intention of rekindling their romance. However, it's never worked for her either (usually because Matt is dating somebody else), and that is probably for the best. While they look fondly back on their partnership, which was a romantic and exciting time for them, it was also very messy. Matt's ego struggled with dating a fellow superhero, and Natasha hated that Matt tended to undervalue her skills. Following their break-up, which was mutual and remarkably drama-free, they have remained good friends who would do just about anything for each other.

Thanks for the great question!

[greenplumbboblover]

Lyra's Yearly Recap - 2024/2025

I actually forgot I did this quite a few times the last few years, but this year I wanted to look back of what I accomplished from my resolution list.

And then see if In can make some of that true this year! (and what else to add!)

2023/2024 Resolutions:

(See: https://greenplumbboblover.tumblr.com/post/738067930777059328/accomplishments-of-2023)

I'm not answering all of them, but I do want to set some record straight!

Finishing LISISV

Haha... yeah I misjudged that completely lol. I got to a point where I lost complete motivation on... well, everything. I had no motivation for personal projects, CC making (one of the reasons why some of my mods in this year were so riddled with bugs), playing games... hell, even interacting with others. Now you could call that depression, but I wasn't showing those symptoms properly either. I found myself in a weird place where, on the one hand, I felt guilty of that I just couldn't do those stuff that I wanted to do, and that then causing me to feel super overwhelmed... yet telling myself constantly that "adults don't feel overwhelmed on those tiny silly things!". I was pretty mean to myself this year, honestly... But all that sad stuff aside! I have made some personal changes in December that are helping me a lot already, before getting also some mental help for other things. But I'll save you from those details. 😉 --------------- The second thing that didn't help was that I would at some point feel a HUGE disconnect with the characters I had in my head and my actual writing. I would make impulsive thoughts, without realistically navigating how it would work out in the future. I would introduce characters, without really giving it a thought on how I wanted them to come across... how to fully tackle certain cases. So! I spent a majority of that time researching a lot of the ways writers actually attempt those issues and solving those. I was hoping to make a post to help others with that soon, since It's really awesome insight at times! And... then there was the whole posing. But I resolved that with the Pose Add-on IMO already! Chapter 10 however, is actually taking a long time because I do struggle a lot with the fact that I consider it my "old" way of writing, and I REALLY want to move on to my 'new' ideas and style. So the willpower is simply not always there.

LISIV PLANS:

Alright, now that we have all that out of the way, here are some of my plans for this year and the story: Splitting certain stories into sub-stories: My current personal problem I have with the story, is that there are some really cool characters, but with the current format, I can't explore their characters as intensely as I'd like to. I also know that I love to jump back and forth from one story to another.

How that would look like is:

Morgana will have her own "Sub-story"

I am pondering of doing the same for Dustin and Zelda.

We travel 5 years into the future, where I want to do more with Mortimer and Bella. But also the Landgraabs and the Alto's.

I am also thinking of making a separate (short) storyline for Gunther and Lolita. The moment I was making the flashbacks, I really have been wanting to write more about it.

Same as 4, but maybe for some other townies! They will be short, but I think it can be fun! :)

Figuring out what to do with Interests & Hobbies

The infamous mod of being delayed... again :p.

I guess you all are probably exhausted of me hearing "no wait! I will finish it!", and then another mod gets released, and another year passes... and personally I have that same thought.

So I am putting the mod entirely on ice. There might not be a chance that I even finish it ever.

However I do want to add something here:

I will be working much more with Stories be told

I am going to be making more hobby items in return! I have been craving that "small but cool" modding projects a lot the past few years. I just like to be ambitious and unrealistic I guess, lol

However, I will be modding WAY less this year due to other factors.

My 2024/2025 Resolutions:

I think I've mentioned this now a lot of times, but never properly done it...

Wanting to write more. Whether it's for the sims, or even personal!

Wanting to get more into 3D modeling. Mostly for myself, but here and there I could probably release some CC pieces! :)

Keep up with Simblr.cc of course!

Post more of my thoughts on LISISV and Character stuff (@nocturnalazure suggested this a while back, but the more I thought of it, the more fun it sounds!)

Doing more Sims photoshoots!

Either way! May this year be your year! Where issues get resolutions and love is all around you.💖

[glossdebut]

All time favorite Yoongi fics?

AHHHHH this is such a hard question! i've read SO many yoongi fics! my personal ao3 account has 100+ bookmarks for him and that's not even including fics from writers that are tumblr-exclusive... but i'll try!

trip no further was one of the first yoongi x reader fics i ever read. i've read it over and over since because it's just SO fucking beautifully written. 100% i would not be writing fics on this website if it weren't for trip no further. it found me at the perfect time and sucked me right back in to bangtan world. if any of you know matchy, i am supremely jealous because they seriously are a master at the craft.

by the time i’ve figured out what it’s worth by @ugh-yoongi!! oh my god. i don't think i could properly put into words what this fic means to me. yet another fic that lives in my brain rent free because FUCK it is so gut-wrenchingly beautiful. i'm not quick to cry but i cried reading this one. 10/10 will never listen to transatlanticism without thinking of this fic again.

countermelody by @bonvoyagenoona. everything that cheryl writes leaves me breathless, but i have a particular soft spot for this one. i love a fic where the MC's personal journey is just as important as the romance, and i read this fic when i was feeling a bit tetherless myself. it definitely made an impact. i said so when i reblogged it a few weeks ago, but this yoongi feels so real. i'm not entirely convinced cheryl doesn't know him personally.

three tangerines by @kithtaehyung... FUCK, i have no words. ryen is so insanely talented and so incredibly deserving of the audience this fic has garnered since its conception. 3tan yoongi lives in my brain rent free. i've felt the entire range of human emotions reading (and re-reading) 3tan, and i'm so excited to see how ryen wraps up the main storyline this year. it's going to be bittersweet, but there's no doubt in my mind that she's going to do an amazing job with it.

the second time by @kkaetnipjeon! first fic i ever read from MJ long ago, and i think about it CONSTANTLY! the way MJ writes yoongi makes me feel a little bit insane because you know what, he WOULD confess the way he does in this fic (no spoilers) and i kind of hate him for that. but also when will it be my turn? (honorable ment. to this drabble MJ wrote so kindly for me because i have super speed/notifications on for her, because it makes me feel similarly crazy)

the pink pill | myg version by @dollfaceksj. clover knows this, but i start to froth at the mouth any time she posts ANYTHING because i'm insane and obsessed with the way she writes. pink pill yoongi... when i catch you... this fic is SO hot, with that angst element that is so classically clover. i don't think i will EVER recover.

there are SO many more (seriously i've read a lot of yoongi fics) but these are the ones that immediately came to mind! i also have a tag of my all time favorites, which i'm slowly filling up with fics i've had stashed on ao3/my old rec sideblog.

[littleakito]

awww babe i saw your recent post- I'm depressed as heck lately too, so I get that feeling. Imma drop some requests that could cheer u up bc I find them cute, but don't do them if you don't feel like it!

Little Mizuki wanting to play dress up and will settle for none but Kanade as the model, so Kanade gets to be a pretty princess

wxs all regress together and go on an adventure while playing princes and princesses

Emu brings Saki, An, and Mizuki to her house and they all age regress at the same time and wreak havoc on the Ootori household

Akito agere/petre in denial so he's just studying with Toya and Mizuki when out of the blue this idiot starts growling n stuff, so then he just sits there in terrified silence until Mizuki just looks him dead in the eyes and meows back. Toya just doesn't question it. He's too sigma.

Ena stress regressing, aggressively rings the entirety of nightcord 48795893 times until they pick up and starts babytalk yapping about all her opps

﹒﹒🐾﹕﹙HEADCANNONS & SHORT FICS﹚✦◝

Before I begin on all of these, thank you so much :( I saw that note a while ago and it helped lift my spirit a bit more. 🤍 love u lots

Now! These were all such yummy awesome ideas that I felt compelled to at least attempt write about them all, I hope this offering to the community is nutritious enough to last a bit haha.

✷﹒🎵🎀﹐LITTLE! MIZUKI & CG! KANADE﹕﹪

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1　 ﹒　Mizuki owns all sorts of pretty dresses and accessories, it’s just a matter of when and where she can style them accordingly on herself! So, occasionally, stylish bows and cute scarves go unused for months at a time,, ໒꒰ྀི´ ᵔ ` ꒱ྀིა

2　 ﹒　Once she’s regressed and sat by all of her friends, however, it’s almost impossible for her not to think of having them dress up with her! Knocking off those boring sweats for sparkly tutu’s sounds like a dream come true..

3　 ﹒　Convincing them, however, may simply be the most difficult part of this masterful plan of hers! ꒰ྀི⸝⸝ -᷅ ⤙ -᷄ ⸝⸝꒱ྀི১

4　 ﹒　A shake, a whine, and some cute puppy dog eyes are her ultimate tactic! And as the rest of the group exchange glances, she can’t help but giggle and kick her feet, there’s absolutely no way they can say no to her now!

5　 ﹒　Mizuki can’t help but grin as she holds up a gorgeous, puffy pink dress towards K. Helplessly accepting it, Kanade let out a light, breathy sigh in defeat.

6　 ﹒　Her plans succeeded! Her friends look soooo cute! K, especially!

7　 ﹒　It’s not until a silly, pink princess dress is being put over her head that she’s realized that she forgot to dress herself up! She giggles and squirms as the group fits it over her tshirt, today…

..today was an excellent day!

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﹙🎭﹚︰LITTLE! WxS﹐♫

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1　 ﹒　Practice was meant to go as normal, play the roles, review the lines, ask questions, riddle everyone’s brains over said questions trying to figure out the answers, give up, continue playing the roles, and then finish up for the day! It was far from such.

2　 ﹒　Whether it began with THE Tsukasa Tenma forgetting his lines and being brought to the verge of tears from it, Nene’s phone dying whilst she was seeking a break behind stage, Emu’s sadder thoughts being brought into question, or Rui receiving strange looks on his way to practice, it simply wasn’t a good day for anyone!

3　 ﹒　Frustrated with these turn of events, Tsukasa initiated a plan! Plan-Regressing-Solves-All! How exactly he would manage to coerce 3 people into little space whilst still upset himself..? Hmm, a true dilemma! But nothing a star can’t fix!

4　 ﹒　It began with Emu, a simple tap on the shoulder, a long stare whilst she babbled on with a smile on her face, then, he cleared his throat. The question was simple, and yet he couldn’t help the flush on his cheeks. In his mind, “would you like to play with me?!” Wouldn’t cut it! However..

5　 ﹒　With a big, squeaky laugh, and her eyes shut tight, a smile squeezing up her face, she shook him around, agreeing with a big nod and exclamation of how “this would be so fun!”

6　 ﹒　A success! And so, the two march onward, in search of an abnormally tall purple haired little, and a rather tiny grey haired girl! In their minds, Rui and Nene needed saving! Trapped within the tower! It was Emu and Tsukasa’s great duty to save them from this terror!

7　 ﹒　Rui wasn’t that hard to find! To ask, however… ahhh. Tsukasa shakes his head, and pulls at his sleeve gently, Emu jumping in for a big big hug, nearly knocking the boy over! “Play with us, Rui! Play with us!!” Emu nearly screamed, giggling and kicking her feet. Tsukasa, in return, nodded. Rui didn’t have the heart to deny…

8　 ﹒　Rui took much longer to drop than Emu, Tsukasa noted. That wouldn’t be much of an issue, though! Besides, they had a princess to save!

9　 ﹒　Nene, sat within a corner behind the stage, curled within herself, appeared to be sniffling. The three exchanged saddened looks at this, a frown melting onto Emu’s face as she broke out into a wail, running (quicker than the other two could, Tsukasa noticed) towards the girl, babbling out questions of “are you okay?” At her.

10　 ﹒　However, none of her words seemed coherent, so, Rui stepped ahead, asking the question for her (and the rest of them!) she stared back at him with teary eyes and explained. She had overheard them! And she believed she wasn’t invited to play!

11　 ﹒　This won’t do, not one bit! And so, Tsukasa holds out a hand to her, and declares that the world must witness the prettiest princes and princesses at once!

12　 ﹒　The day very quickly comes to a close with giggles and smiles, much different than the beginning of this story!

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﹢❛﹑🐕﹙LITTLE/PET!AKITO + MIZU & TOYA﹚＞＜ ⠀

1　 ﹒　Akito isn’t a fan of studying, this fact can be stated by anyone and everyone he’s ever spoken to. What he was a fan of, however, was making his partner proud.

2　 ﹒　So, when his teacher suggested after school lessons to kick his grade up a notch, he immediately sought out Toya, tail in between his legs as he began explaining his situation. Perhaps, a bit of shame was laced behind his words, but, he covered it up easily with a quick mention of Vivid BAD SQUAD, and how he was confident he wouldn’t have to miss any practices if he received a bit of help.

3　 ﹒　His brain felt fuzzy, in a way, as he began talking, it very quickly trailed off into silence and babbles of words that didn’t seem to make sense, not that he realized. Toya placed a hand onto his shoulder, and that jolted him out of his little trance, a muttered sorry coming his way.

4　 ﹒　Across the hall, Mizuki spotted Akito, a mischevious look playing onto her face as she crept up behind him. Toya eyed her, questioning what exactly she was planning on— ah..

5　 ﹒　Instead of a scream, or a yell, a bark flew her way, furrowing his eyebrows at her angrily. And yet, those words he had on his tongue to appear as rude as always disappeared. He huffed, defeated, and crossed his arms over his chest instead.

6　 ﹒　Whatever those two were talking about now didn’t matter to him, those looks he was being given, more. Had he seriously just barked at Mizuki Akiyama? What in Miku’s name was wrong with him, seriously..

7　 ﹒　It was no surprise to him that when he turned his ear away from their conversation, Mizuki had somehow found a way to join in on the studying. It wasn’t quite as if he could object to it now, anyway, they were well on their way to the spare classroom kept on the side of their school.

8　 ﹒　The studying began as boring as always, and it didn’t seem to become any less banal than ever as time progressed, and that.. stupid fuzzy feeling in his brain wouldn’t knock it off! It was enough to leave him frustrated, staring bullets at his paper.

9　 ﹒　After a bit of time, he felt different, less bored, yet still angered, and so, he growled.

10　 ﹒　Snarled and all, he rest his head against one of his hands propped up on the desk, fingers pulling at little hairs in his eyes. Toya gave him a strange look, as if he had just done something completely abnormal.

11　 ﹒　It couldn’t be more abnormal than those pants he was wearing.. and..

12　 ﹒　As much as he wanted to tell him to quit looking at him, before he had the chance, Toya’s voice sounded out, gentler than usual. His eyes softened, whether he’d admit to that or not, it was the truth. His shoulders became less stiff and his mouth was left slightly agape.

13　 ﹒　It only took him a mere 5 seconds to remember Mizuki was in the room, and so, he slumped against the desk. A light sound from in front of him was quick to appear, however, a soft, purr of a meow.

14　 ﹒　It was slightly slurred, and yet, Akito raised his head up and off of his desk to stare back at her. Meow..? Seriously, what the bark was this..

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↷﹒💄﹒LITTLE! ENA & N25﹒✶

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1　 ﹒　Everyday was a fight, whether Ena would admit that or not. Every waking moment was filled with some new thing for her father to scream at her over.

2　 ﹒　And so, when she sought comfort tucked within her room with a pencil and paper — a gentle melody in the back she was originally humming to — and the art began looking wonky and irregular, she huffed. It didn’t take much longer for another mistake to lead to her crumpling up the paper into her hand and letting out an angry scream at the world.

3　 ﹒　One pencil was snapped, and the pillows on her bed were now on the floor as she cried herself into a meltdown. One hand searching for her phone as the other found its way to her lips, sucking on her thumb.

4　 ﹒　Kanade was the first to join, and the first to hear her sobs of agony at every pencil and paper and father figure to have ever existed, then came Mafuyu, and lastly, Mizuki.

5　 ﹒　“Enanan..? What’s the matter?” She didn’t have an answer! Everything was the matter! Everything was wrong! Every piece of art! The Mona Lisa could burn for all she cared! She just..

6　 ﹒　She just wanted her caregivers! Was that so much to ask for..?! Her sobs and screams into her pillow started to become light sniffles as N25 worked their magic, letting her breathe without criticism.

7　 ﹒　She fell asleep nearly instantly, tears staining her face for the night.

8　 ﹒　And when she woke up, everyone was still on call with her, asleep or not, they were there. Along with a weird note right by her door with a pacifier attached to it. The note was sweeter than she’d like to admit.

9　 ﹒　Ugh…

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HELLO HELLO! This was a grand post to celebrate the new year! Thank you sososoooo much to everyone I’ve became friends with in the past few months, and for all of the support I receive day after day. I love you all sosososooooomuch it’s unbelievable!

I worked on this for 3 hours straight ahshjahsj… with the exception of changing music, texting my friends with pleas of prayers for this, and editing the cards obvi!

I hope this is okay, and I did in fact avoid one of them haha… maybe I’ll get to it another time..? It didn’t appeal to me this time, sorry..

once again, happy new years, late merry christmas & happy hanukkah! I hope everyone had a great month over the holidays, ily all sm. I’ll be getting to the rest of my requests soon enough once I’m not burnt out haha.. thanks<3

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[vespaer77]

Yeee I love these!!! I always look forward to your posts so much!

First of all, I have a head canon that qunari do not know their name day. They know what year they were born out of necessity, but I have a hard time believing that someone who has a "long series of numbers" or a title instead of an individual name would be afforded the relative luxury of a personalized name day to celebrate. To me, anything that identifies a unique "self," apart from the whole, is taboo under the Qun.

So, according to my head canon, a Tal-Vashoth chooses to celebrate their name day on the day they receive a name, given to them from someone else. It truly is the day they were named. They may receive many names throughout their lives, and they may prefer to go by one more than another (Basaari very much prefers to go by "Rook" even if "Basaari" does have significant meaning for him) but the day of their first naming is their name day.

(continue below break for brevity)

Basaari was named when he stowed away on a ship. It's a longer story, and one I've been meaning to write (though I'm not sure how much people are into fic about PCs), but he was escaping Kirkwall after the death of his arvaarad. He'd been contemplating his own death, as a loyal saarebas should, when an argument on a bridge above him caused a distraction, and a lady's kerchief fell and landed on his shoulder. He told himself he merely needed to return it to her but really, it was the excuse he needed to stay his own execution. So he snuck aboard the ship she was on and of course, him being rather conspicuous all wrapped up in chains and what not, and also only fourteen years old, he was caught.

The ship and the woman were bound for Denerim. She, having lost her only son to the war in Orlais and her husband to the blight, took pity on Basaari and rather hastily took responsibility for him. Some of the crew, however, recognized him for what he was and sent a raven ahead of the ship. As such, the templars were waiting for him when they reached Ferelden shores.

Before that, though, lingering storms and prevailing winds had kept them at sea for a number of weeks. During that time the woman, who called herself Amelia Thorne, removed his mask and collar and chains, cut the sutures from his lips, cleaned his wounds and swaddled him in warm blankets. She shared her food with him and stroked his hair while he slept, and told him stories from her farm, as it had been during happier days. She told him he could come home with her if he wanted to, and maybe together they could put life back into that old farm again. She could heal from her grief, he could heal from his trauma, and the land could heal from the blight.

When she asked him what his name was, he only told her what he knew. He knew he was saarebas, and while he was still uncertain whether or not he would ultimately fulfill his obligation to the Qun and to his arvaarad, for the moment he had turned from the Qun. Thus, he was also hissba. So he told her he was "hissba saarebas."

Which was a lot for an old Ferelden woman to say.

So she called him Basaari. She didn't just give him his name. She also gave him hers.

His name was Basaari Thorne.

He'd been called "asaaranda" by his arvaarad before that and he was called "Rook" by the warden commander of his unit afterwards. He would never take the name the Antaam gave him, so Basaari was the first. He may still hear "hissba saarebas" when he says it, but when he says "Thorne," he knows that somewhere out there he still has a home to go back to, and a mother who loves him.

It’s Monday Morning 👎👎👎🚫🚫

It’s the Rook Introduction Hour ! 🥳🥳🎊🎊🙌

For new people, it works like this: I ask you about your Rook, and if you want you can rb and answer, and then I’ll rb it back here and comment a bit !

I really made you all work last week, so let’s do something easier: What is the significance of your Rook’s (first) name? Who gave it to them— did they pick it themselves? Do they have any nicknames (besides Rook)? Who gave those to them? Do they like their name?

Feel free to answer as much/little as you like!

[wewontbesleeping]

oh YAY the old coworker who had delusional fantasies about a relationship with me and harassed me about it both at work and in absolutely insane social media posts has started commenting on my old posts again! yay!!!!! i'm so happy!!!!

[panharmonium]

Hi! I love your Naruto thoughts and meta posts with all my heart and I want to ask your thoughts on something that has been on my mind literally since I was 13: what do you think about the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura? I went from being a hardcore shipper when I was a teenager, to being against any romantic relationship in Naruto after finishing the anime when I was in my early twenties. Nowadays I'm very into platonic love and depictions of friendship and I think the anime's obsession with forcing the "romantic interest" curse upon the main female character robbed us of... so much. There are a few wonderful moments in the anime where Sasuke and Sakura acknowledge each other, but because she's always "the girl with the crush", her actions are so often interpret as irrational or selfish by the fandom.

Hi @riemmetric!  It's great to talk to you again! Sorry it's taken me so long to answer this; RL has been making demands of me lately and it took me way longer to finish writing this up than I wanted it to (then again, I knew from the minute I read your original ask that my reply was going to get long, so I suppose I should have predicted a delay XD)

It's funny, my sister once asked me to choose between Sasuke or Sakura for an “unpopular opinion” meme, and I ended up doing Sasuke solely because I think the negative fandom opinions about Sakura are so unhinged and divorced from the actual text that I wouldn’t even know where to start.  People are entitled to dislike whatever characters they want, obviously, but there are some fandom takes that are, for me, so obviously rooted in bad faith viewings/readings that there’s no urge in me to discuss them.  That said, since you asked, I’m happy to go into my own thoughts on this a bit, with the disclaimer for other potential readers that I only write about fandom things for my own personal enjoyment, not as a contribution to The Discourse. If you don’t like Sakura, great!  I have no interest in changing your mind. Please consider this a sincere invitation to scroll on by and go enjoy whatever parts of the fandom appeal to you.

In general terms: I love Sasuke and Sakura’s relationship as much as I love all of the relationships in Team 7.  If we’re talking about them specifically as a romantic couple, then I probably fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, because I do like them together in a post-canon (to be clear: non-Boruto) setting, after time has passed and they’ve continued to develop individually and reconnect with each other, but I also wouldn’t exactly call myself an intense “shipper,” in the sense that I have no interest in pulling things out from the text and incorrectly citing them as evidence that Sasuke has hidden romantic feelings for her during the canon period. He cares about her in the canon period, just like he cares about Naruto and Kakashi.  That’s not up for interpretation; it’s the text.  But Sasuke during the canon time period does not demonstrate specifically romantic interest in anyone.  

[A note before people who might ship Sasuke with Someone Else emerge to rail against this statement - please just scroll past and continue enjoying fandom in whatever way is most fun for you. It is cool to ship whatever fanon thing you want; I think that’s great!  But earnestly citing any loving or emotional thing Sasuke does re: various characters in this story (yes, Sakura included) as indicative of specifically romantic love isn’t supported by the text. I know there are always going to be enormous subsets of any fandom who insist that it is, and I'm certainly not going to barge into anyone else's space to complain about that (because other people having fun together is harmless and none of my business), but I'm not obligated to indulge it on my own blog, either.]

Anyway, that said - the reason why I love Sakura and Sasuke’s relationship (from here on out I’ll use “relationship” in a general, non-romantic sense) is precisely because Sakura isn’t just “the girl with the crush.” Sakura has an arc when it comes to Sasuke, and its trajectory moves in the exact opposite direction of “irrational” or “selfish.”  She specifically goes from “the girl with the crush” to “the girl who steels herself and tries to put her personal feelings for Sasuke aside for the greater good” to “the girl who knows she can’t put her feelings aside, but who also knows full well that Sasuke doesn’t reciprocate them, and who still wants to save him regardless, because he matters to her as a person and a friend.”

[I'm putting the rest of this under a cut to save everyone's dash, and also to emphasize once again that this is a personal post on my personal blog which I wrote in response to a question from a personal acquaintance, the full content of which no one is obligated to read. I am not sending this post to random strangers and forcing them to look at it. I'm not even putting it in the character tags. I'm typing it up on my own blog and putting it under a cut. If you already know that you don't like Sakura, but you still click the link/read the post and then feel an urge to comment and complain, I am going to copy-paste this disclaimer and remind you that I specifically recommended that you scroll past and go have fun with fandom in your own way. Thanks in advance for responsibly curating your own fandom experience!]

So, from the top:

1. the girl with the crush

Sakura is, obviously, completely obsessed with Sasuke at the beginning of Part 1.  She’s also deeply clueless about him and his history (bizarre though it is, the story seems to indicate that she initially doesn’t know what happened with his family, the same way young!Obito is initially clueless about Kakashi’s father).  But what I like about Sakura and Sasuke’s Part 1 relationship is how this changes over time.

The critical scene that kicks this off happens right at the beginning of the manga, when she and Sasuke are talking by that bench - she complains about Naruto and blames his behavior on him being all alone/having no family to scold him; and even says she’s jealous that he doesn’t have parents to nag him all the time.  This obviously triggers an outburst from Sasuke, who tells her she has no idea what loneliness means and that she “makes him sick”/she’s “annoying” (importantly, the exact same thing Sakura said to Naruto in anger earlier that day), which in turn prompts Sakura to reassess herself and wonder whether she’s been making Naruto feel this terrible all the time, too:

From that point on, it’s a process of her putting little pieces together.  She still has a MAJOR crush, and she still acts like a twelve year-old, but as we approach the end of Part I, Sakura actually has a more accurate grasp on Sasuke’s current state of mind than Naruto does.  Naruto is initially excited to fight Sasuke on top of the hospital, because he feels like Sasuke’s finally acknowledging him, whereas Sakura is the one who immediately recognizes that something is wrong about this situation.  She is also the one who, after this fight, is concerned that Sasuke is really unwell and might do something drastic like run off in pursuit of the power Orochimaru promised him, but when she communicates this to Naruto, he assures her that this would NEVER happen:

(Sakura isn't convinced, though, because she goes to monitor the exit out of the village anyway.)

I’m not criticizing Naruto for his response here.  I ADORE hearing him say that Sasuke is too strong to need Orochimaru, with such perfect confidence - I love seeing how much respect and admiration he has for Sasuke underneath all their fighting, because that’s the whole reason he’s always baiting Sasuke and yelling at him and claiming “you're not so great!” He looks up to Sasuke; he wants to be like Sasuke; he thinks Sasuke is awesome! (It’s that Obito @ Kakashi behavior, you know?) But the fact remains that he is clueless about what’s actually going on with Sasuke in Part 1, and he remains clueless(ly optimistic) for a long time.  

(Eg, when he catches up to Sasuke during the retrieval arc and Sasuke climbs out of that cursed seal coffin, Naruto waves at him and calls "Come on, let's go!" as if Sasuke has been successfully rescued and is now going to come running home.  Even in Part II, when Naruto hears that Sasuke killed Orochimaru, he beams and immediately says, “So he must be on his way back to the Leaf Village!”  And everyone else in the room is like, “....,” because they know better.  Naruto doesn’t yet fully understand [or doesn't want to accept] the extent to which Sasuke has willingly chosen this path, and it’s not until after Jiraiya’s death/the Pain attack/the Five Kage Summit that Naruto really starts to understand Sasuke more clearly, which is something he himself admits.)

Sakura, in Part 1, has access to more information about Sasuke - she’s there for his first dissociative monologue during the bells test, she’s there for the curse mark’s placement, she’s there for his first violent transformation in the Forest of Death - she is, in fact, the unwitting catalyst for it (“Sakura…who did this to you?”), and her compassion is the reason Sasuke is later able to overcome the curse mark’s influence - so she has a more accurate/complete picture of “how he’s doing,” for lack of a better phrase, whereas Naruto, who doesn’t know about the curse mark in the first place, is still in the dark.  This means that Sakura is able to accurately discern that Sasuke is struggling more than Naruto realizes, and specifically to predict that he’s going to run away.  

(This dynamic is then interestingly flipped in the back half of Part II, since at any point after the Five Kage Summit, Sakura doesn’t have access to extremely relevant [if currently questionable and unproven] details that would in any other circumstance inform her behavior).

Of course, just because she has more info in Part 1 doesn’t mean she has some kind of miraculous insight into Sasuke’s every thought and feeling.  There are parts of her attempt to convince Sasuke to stay in the village that are as clueless as any of Naruto’s assumptions, and they showcase the kind of magical thinking common to childhood - like when she says that if he stayed with her, she could give him happiness, she’d do anything for him, even help him get his revenge - this idea that she herself can do something to make him feel better, that she can love him powerfully enough to defeat his pain - obviously none of that is rooted in realism.

Is this part of her approach irrational and immature and inadvertently self-centered?  Of course it is!  But it’s no more irrational and immature and inadvertently self-centered than Naruto’s stated plan to drag Sasuke back to the village even if he has to “break every bone in [his] body!” 

Hating on Sakura for her Part 1 attempt to convince Sasuke to stay in the village while simultaneously lauding Naruto for his feels like a bad faith misread of what is, to me, pretty clear narrative intention.  The story doesn’t at any point intend for us to see her begging him to stay as a selfish or conniving attempt to get something she wants.  She’s begging him to stay for the same underlying reason that Naruto is: she cares about him.  She thinks he’s making a mistake that will only cause him more pain in the end (she’s right) and she wants to make it so he feels less pain right now (she can’t.  But she doesn’t understand that/isn’t able to admit that, and she’s willing to try ANYTHING that might help).  

It’s critical that this farewell scene is set in front of that same bench from their first important confrontation - she references that day and how angry he got at her, and this time she tells him that she understands his reaction.  She’s learned things and she recognizes how insensitive she was being back then (“I know what happened to your clan, Sasuke”), even though she still can’t fully grasp all the complexities of the situation. She tells him that him blowing up at her back then helped her understand what loneliness actually meant (as opposed to her previous shallow understanding of it), and she challenges him about his choice right now: "So that's it, you're choosing the lonely path?" And when she tells him that she'll be very lonely if he leaves, we're immediately shown a panel of Sasuke thinking of both his friends, with the very clear implication that if he goes through with this, he will be lonely without them, too - that he's still struggling with the idea of leaving them, no matter how hard he tries to pretend:

Sakura at this point knows that Sasuke isn’t interested in her the way she is in him, but she still wants to give him happiness, however fantastical and immature her ideas sound to us (and, I’m sure, to him).  “I’ll do anything, even help you get your revenge/we'll have fun every day, and...and you'll be happy! I'll make sure of it!” - of course, it’s completely childish.  It’s irrational.  It’s ridiculous to think that any of this would ever be effective, but no more ridiculous than Naruto’s belief that he can simply break every bone in Sasuke’s body and keep him in the Leaf by force.

Both Naruto and Sakura are children who have a deeply oversimplified understanding of Sasuke’s situation.  They both still think they can fix him themselves.  They both think they can save him themselves.  They both think they can convince (or force) him to do what they want, what they think is in his best interests.  Both of them don’t yet understand that he has to want to come back, if it’s ever going to mean anything.  Their attempts to keep him in the village are immature and unrealistic, yes.  What they aren’t, however, is selfish, because neither Sakura nor Naruto are doing any of this with the intention of advancing their own interests.  They’re only thinking about Sasuke - how to keep Sasuke safe, how to make Sasuke happy - even when neither of them are taking an approach that will actually work.

Naruto and Sakura are children.  They’re afraid of losing somebody they care about.  Their attempts to prevent that from happening are desperate and messy and ultimately ineffective, but they are also genuinely felt and rooted in a true desire to rescue Sasuke from his pain, which - and this is the single most important thing that should impact our viewing of Part 1 - is something that Sasuke RECOGNIZES.  He doesn’t spend that agonizingly long moment bowed over Naruto’s defeated body so we can pretend he doesn’t understand that Naruto was just trying to help him.  He doesn’t take the time to murmur, “Sakura…thank you,” before laying her out carefully on a bench, just so we can discount it and pretend that he doesn’t recognize and appreciate her genuine intention to make things better for him, however clumsy that attempt might have been.

2. the greater good

If Stage 1 Sakura is "the girl with the crush," then Stage 2 Sakura is a progression to “the girl who decides to put her feelings for Sasuke aside in order to protect innocent people, including (but certainly not limited to) Naruto.”  She’s driven to this decision by interactions with Shikamaru, who all too recently had to grow up fast himself (“We're not kids anymore...we can't allow a war to break out between the Hidden Leaf and the Hidden Cloud because of Sasuke") and Sai, who risks his new friendship with Sakura and Team 7 in order to speak some hard truths and deliver one of my favorite lines in the whole story: “I don’t know what promise Naruto made to you, but it’s really no different than what was done to me.  It’s like a curse mark.”

(INCREDIBLE.  How can anybody be complaining about a season where Sai gets to say something that goes THIS HARD and Sakura LISTENS and takes DRAMATIC ACTION that actually propels the story forward in a meaningful way - )

[Okay, yeah, brief personal opinion interlude - it is just bonkers wild to me that there are people who complain about Sakura in the Five Kage Summit arc. That entire season is the greatest character arc she ever has.  Literally she has never been more interesting and dynamic than in Season 10; it’s the first time she ever gets to be as deep and fascinating as the boys; what is everybody so worked up about?  Oh, “she lied to Naruto that one time” - Sasuke joined infant-kidnapping baby-murdering human experimentation machine Orochimaru when he was twelve years old in order to (dare I say it????) selfishly pursue his personal goals and yet, somehow, we are still able to root for him.  He abandoned his friends/allies to imprisonment and death (Suigetsu and Jūgo) or outright stabbed them in the chest himself (Karin) in order to (SELFISHLY) get what he wanted, and yet, somehow, we are still able to love him, understand him, and be on his side.  Naruto is canonically not upset with Sakura about her lie after receiving context for the situation and I think we can probably take our cues from him without feeling the need to bring her up on war crimes; please calm down]

[Sorry, I just really love most of Season 10 and think it’s one of the best examples of how good this story can be when every single character gets to do something that matters (as opposed to things being all Naruto, all the time) so I get a little bit worked up over people complaining about some of the best writing Sakura ever gets.  I don’t understand what certain elements of fandom want from her. People complain about her being “useless” and not doing anything that contributes to the story, but then they complain just as much when she does finally get to act decisively and have just as complex/dynamic an inner world as the boys.  She’s “weak” for being unreasonably in love with Sasuke, but when she tries to be “strong” and put her love for him aside and eliminate him in order to protect Naruto and the rest of the world, she’s evil, because she should have been more understanding of his situation (despite the fact that she doesn’t KNOW anything about his situation).  But then when she can’t go through with killing him after all because she cares about him too much despite the things he’s done, she’s not "compassionate" or "kind" or "a good friend," she’s “weak” again. Nothing Sakura does in S10 is more wrongheaded or rash than any of the batshit, buckwild things Naruto and Sasuke have done in the past (and will continue to do in the future), but when Naruto and Sasuke have big feelings or take bold action, it makes them interesting characters, whereas Sakura can’t breathe in anyone’s direction without being minutely scrutinized for moral impurities.]  

Anyway. Back to a more measured response.  

Every single piece of development Sakura has with regard to Sasuke in this season satisfies me so much.  Her initial shock and disbelief at hearing that Sasuke had joined the Akatsuki?  Good, appropriate.  The fact that she starts to acknowledge the reality of what Sasuke’s done sooner than Naruto does?  Also extremely appropriate, very in-character for both of them.  Her taking Sai’s words to heart and deciding that the promise she asked Naruto to make when they were children is causing him to suffer and she has to relieve him of that burden?  Juicy!  AND thematically significant (promises!!!!  the burden that a promise places on a person, especially when it can't be kept - we've seen that before in this story and we'll see it again).  Her anguished pivot from wanting to protect Sasuke to realizing that she has a responsibility to protect the countless innocents who will die because of the war he’s trying to start?  HELLO THIS IS INCREDIBLE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.  Her knocking out the classmates who agreed to help her so they don’t have to share in her burden (and so the only person Naruto will hate when it’s over is her)?  BRUH.  Her being so committed and focused on her goal of saving innocents and protecting Naruto (not just from being harmed by Sasuke/the Akatsuki, but by the possibility that Naruto will someday have to hurt Sasuke himself) that she tries to take everything on by herself and walks into a confrontation that she absolutely cannot win??  INCREDIBLE.  (Literally the first time I watched this, I said, “Finally!!!  It’s Sakura’s turn to go off the rails!”  I laughed with my sister about how Kakashi isn’t even mad, because Naruto and Sasuke have been pulling stunts like this for years and Sakura was way overdue for her own meltdown.)  And then, after Kakashi intervenes in the fight - Sakura barreling back into the battle when she realizes he’s going to take on the burden of killing Sasuke himself in order to spare her and Naruto the horror - “I can’t let Kakashi-sensei bear this burden!”  I love her for that.  

And then, of course, in the end - her not being able to do hurt Sasuke after all.  Despite committing herself to the act, despite forcing herself to put her feelings for him aside, despite resolving to stop him from starting a war and killing innocent people, she can’t harm him.  She cares about him too much.  This, too, is thematically significant - think about Itachi’s “you don’t have enough hatred” - she doesn’t have enough hatred to kill someone she cares about, even if it seems like he deserves it, even if would be the right thing to do to protect others.  She can’t do it, and Sasuke almost kills her for her compassion.  

I love the dynamic this sets up between her and Sasuke, for a few reasons:

1) Personally, I think Sasuke respects Sakura much more for trying to kill him than he would have if she’d just tried to talk him out of his behavior or beg him to come home (a la their original confrontation in Part 1).  This is the first significant interaction he’s had with Sakura in years, and the fact that she does something SO contrary to his memory of her is an important demonstration of the fact that she’s not the same girl she used to be.  Sasuke spends a lot of time after his defection declaring to his old team “I’ve changed; I’m not that person anymore,” but this is one of the moments where he’s forced to acknowledge that his teammates have changed, too.  Time didn’t just stop for them when he left.  While he was turning into someone new, so were they.  They grew up without him, and his old memories of them can’t encompass the whole picture of who they are now.  

(This is a little tangential, but in general, I love the spectrum of reactions that Naruto, Sakura, and Kakashi have in this sequence, and the way that all of them are ultimately messages Sasuke needs to hear.  Sasuke - who we know textually regrets what he did here, who apologizes to Sakura for it later - for “everything,” in fact - needs Naruto’s aggressively optimistic open-arms policy, yes, needs that potential, that unconditional possibility of return.  He also needs Sakura’s refusal to let him hurt her friends and start a war that will kill thousands of people, needs her surprisingly ruthless attempt to take him down; needs just as much her failure to do so, because it shows him that she still loves him too much to kill him even as she condemns him.  And he needs Kakashi’s grim line in the sand, needs someone who very possibly won't hesitate like Sakura (despite the horrifying personal cost), someone who will try to reach him but also won't let him escape and become the next generation’s Orochimaru, who won't let him cause untold suffering to untold numbers of people just because a teacher loved him too much to stop him when he had the chance. 

(And then even Kakashi chooses not to deliver a killing blow when he has the opportunity -)

(I know that in fandom people are more likely to be all, “oh, Naruto Good, everybody else Bad,” but I don’t think the narrative frames Sakura or Kakashi as “worse” than Naruto in any way.  The story goes out of its way to make it clear how desperately they don’t want to hurt Sasuke and how much they care about him.  And [this is just my interpretation, so obviously I won’t claim it as fact], I personally think that Sasuke - Sasuke, who, looking back, can see how lost he was then and how tortured he would have been if he’d gone through with many of his plans - would be grateful to Sakura and Kakashi for making an attempt to stop him when he couldn’t stop himself.)

2) On the other side of this, the fact that Sakura wasn’t able to deliver the killing blow means a lot. Sasuke was incapacitated under that bridge; he was completely at her mercy - but she stopped with the kunai an inch from his back.  She couldn’t kill him, even though she knew that he was completely willing to kill her (because he'd attempted to Chidori-assassinate her from behind just a few minutes ago).  That’s huge!  Sasuke is too out of his head right now to process this or understand it, but later, it's going to matter.  She stayed her hand.  She spared his life.  She loved him too much to hurt him, even when he’d given her every reason to take him down.  She hesitated, and he almost killed her for it, but her inability to strike him ultimately gave him yet another chance to come home, another chance to get better, another chance to have a life outside of his pain.  Despite everything, some part of her still hadn’t really given up on him, and that knowledge will matter later, when he’s finally able to acknowledge it.  

The point of all this is to say that I really have no complaints about Sakura and Sasuke’s dynamic in their S10 confrontation.  This season is the point where Sakura fully grows past her “girl with a crush” stage and into her “shinobi must make very harsh decisions” adulthood, but it never means that she doesn’t care about the person she’s trying to take down.  Her ultimate inability to deliver the killing blow remains a dangling lifeline for her relationship with Sasuke, an open door that Sasuke is able to walk through at the end of the story (literally, in fact, when Sakura opens that portal for him and saves him from Kaguya’s desert prison, and figuratively, too, when Sasuke apologizes to her).

3. she only wants to save you

The last stage in their relationship is what Sakura settles into during the war arc.  She started off Part 1 being just a girl with a crush, then tried to harden her heart and put her feelings for Sasuke aside in service of the greater good, but she was unable to actually follow through and kill him, and because of that, what she’s come to accept by the war arc is actually two things: that 1) Sasuke truly is willing to let her die if it furthers his goals, and 2) she wants to save him anyway.  

She has no intention of pursuing Sasuke romantically.  She knows full well that Sasuke isn’t interested in her.  She even knows that Sasuke isn’t really on their side (there’s a great scene where Sai questions Sakura about Sasuke’s return, and she reassures him that everything is fine, and Sai sadly thinks to himself “even I can tell your smile is fake”).  She’s well-aware that Sasuke didn’t try to help her when Madara stabbed her.  She’s well-aware that he left her to die in the lava pit.  She’s also well-aware that none of this is enough to make her stop loving him.  He doesn’t have to care about her - she still cares about him.  She still wants to help him.  She still wants to save him.

This is not hidden, hard-to-parse character development.�� It’s explicitly articulated on the page:

Sakura’s not trying or wanting to make you hers!  She only wants to save you.

I’m not sure if people look at this last confrontation and unquestioningly take Sasuke at his word (as if we haven’t just read 71 volumes/watched 700 episodes showing us how how painfully distorted his thinking is), or if they stop reading/watching before the end of the scene, or if they don’t understand that Sasuke saying something doesn’t make that statement an accurate representation of reality.  The entire point of this scene is to show us how deeply mistaken Sasuke is about Sakura (and, by extension, the rest of Team 7).  He’s locked into a false pattern of thinking.  His single-minded focus on revenge and destruction has blinded him to the unconditional love his friends feel for him; he’s become so accustomed to using others and being used that he can’t understand or accept that someone would care about him without needing a reason, without needing him to love them back, without needing to receive something from him in exchange.

Sakura’s not trying or wanting to make you hers!  She only wants to save you.

Sasuke matters to Sakura as more than a love interest.  He always has.  She does love him romantically, yes, but she doesn’t only love him romantically, and her desire to help him is not and has never been contingent on him returning her feelings, romantically or otherwise.  Sasuke isn’t able to acknowledge that in this scene, but that doesn’t mean we’re supposed to just sit back and agree with his warped perspective.  Kakashi is the one who’s explicitly positioned as the voice of the narrative here.  We, as the audience, are supposed to recognize that Kakashi is the one telling us the truth.

[tangential thing 1: You don’t have to love Sakura's last plea to Sasuke here. It’s not my favorite, either - the best part, other than Kakashi’s speech at the end, is the moment after Kakashi collapses when Sakura’s expression changes from pained uncertainty to pure rage, when she grits her teeth together - when I first saw that, I almost leapt out of my seat like “Oh my god.  She’s finally going to let him have it.  It’s finally happening - ”  I wanted that so badly, and I still think it would have been a more effective writing choice for Sakura’s last words to lean more into her anger at the suffering Sasuke is causing all of them (himself included!) and less into yet another of Kishimoto’s “let me have Sakura articulate what a shame it is that she can’t do as much as Naruto despite the fact that I literally just went through a major reveal sequence in the war to show that she’s caught up to the boys; I can’t make up my mind about whether I want her to progress or not” - it’s extremely frustrating (and it's something he does at the very end of the S10 Team 7 reunion, too, which is the ONLY moment of S10 that falls flat for me).  But at the same time, even if there are ways this sequence could be more satisfying, it doesn’t change the fact that her plea to him is not remotely motivated by a desire to be with him romantically and not anything to condemn her for.]

[tangential thing 2: I do like how she remembers that moment when Sasuke says “Thank you.”  That panel precedes her saying “If there’s even a tiny corner of your heart that thinks about me…” (which I’m sure is one of the things that people like to criticize about this scene, aka “oh she’s sooooo self-centered” etc), but that particular line of dialogue is preceded by that particular flashback panel for a reason: Sakura knows that Sasuke DOES think about her.  He thinks about all of them.  Sakura remembers that “thank you,” and it reminds her that despite everything Sasuke has done and said since, despite all evidence to the contrary, she knows in her bones that his expression of gratitude back then was genuine.  He cared about her once.  He cared about all of them.  She’s trying to reach the part of him that still does, if it exists.]

[tangential thing 3: The fact that Kakashi says “she suffers from loving you,” and it triggers Sasuke to remember his own family - thinking about how much he suffered (and still suffers) from loving them - “Perhaps…those are the ties to a failed past” - the idea that it’s not worth it to have bonds if it means you suffer this much…that it’s too difficult, it’s too painful, and if Sakura and the rest of Team 7 were smarter they would just give it up (all Sasuke knows how to do now is sever potential bonds before they can hurt him; so why aren’t Sakura and the rest of his teammates doing that, why can’t they let it go, why are they making this so hard - ) << yeah, he clearly doesn't care about her/them at all.]

4. the shadow of my family

This has all been a really long way to answer the original question, but the short response to “What do you think about the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura?” is “I really care about it,” just like I really care about the relationship between Sasuke and Naruto, just like I really care about the relationship between Sasuke and Kakashi. And I don’t think the story ever asks me to choose between them.

I’m not sure whether it’s the impact of Boruto-era “canon” that gets in the way of other people approaching things this way (I don’t consider sequel material when I evaluate the original story), or if it’s Kishimoto’s frequent disinterest in/disrespect towards female characters, which yes, does sometimes make it harder, or if it's a shipping thing (bane of my existence), or some combination of factors, but for me, taking one member of Team 7 out of the equation hobbles the rest of the story.  I can’t read/watch Naruto while hating one of the protagonists and loving the other three.  It doesn’t work like that for me.  The story wasn’t written that way, and there’s nothing in the text that would cause me to receive it that way.

That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with disliking one of the main foursome (or any character, for that matter) - obviously we're all going to have different preferences, and everyone is free to enjoy or reject whatever parts of a story they want, or to like or dislike whatever characters they want. I know that some people have more fun disregarding canon and doing their own thing, which is fine.  My own personal zone of enjoyment comes from receiving the story as closely to how I think it was intended to be read as I can, and personally, when I look at this particular story, what I see is that all the members of Team 7 clearly demonstrate their love for Sasuke in ways that he himself later recognizes and acknowledges. All of them are driven by their desire to save him and their unwillingness to hurt him. All of them make repeated choices to chase after him when he runs away, to trust him when he hasn't exactly earned it, to give him another chance when he doesn't appear to deserve it. ALL of them, not just Naruto, do these things multiple times throughout the story, and Sasuke owes his life (and thus his eventual recovery) to ALL of them, many times over. Kakashi disobeys Hokage-elect Danzō and breaks the law to negotiate for Sasuke's life with a foreign head of state. Sakura and Kakashi both have opportunities to kill Sasuke in the Land of Iron, and they choose to spare him instead. Kakashi stops Sasuke from killing his only friends at two different points in the story, which would have been a mistake Sasuke couldn't have recovered from. Sasuke would have died in Kaguya's desert dimension if Sakura hadn't saved him (Sakura, who knew that Sasuke wasn't even truly on her side yet, who knew he'd abandoned her for dead multiple times already that day). Kaguya's bone bullet would have killed Sasuke too, if Kakashi, with his intention to die in Sasuke's place, hadn't leapt in front of it (Kakashi, who also knew that Sasuke wasn't fully on their side yet, who also knew that Sasuke had abandoned him for dead earlier that day). Sasuke and Naruto would have BOTH died in the Final Valley if Sakura and a severely injured Kakashi hadn't chased after them to heal their injuries.

Remove any one member of Team 7, and Sasuke never makes it home. Without the combined efforts of all three of his teammates, he doesn't survive.  That’s the way it should be, thematically, for a story whose first and most foundational premise was the importance of teamwork, and since Sakura was just as essential to that framework as everyone else, I’m just as invested in her relationship with Sasuke as I am in his relationship with everyone else.  You can’t remove one leg from a four-legged stool without damaging the integrity of the entire structure, and for me, discounting any single member of Team 7 irreparably damages the integrity of the entire story. 

TL;DR: I love all of the Team 7 relationships, including Sakura and Sasuke's, because despite what some segments of fandom seem to believe, the text of the story never gives me any reason not to.

[grimbeak]

i don't hate this sequel media where the main character is a woman (compared to the og media where the main character is a man) actually. i think you guys are just kind of misogynist.

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[brittlebutch]

i knowww that a child would have changed the landscape of the show too much for it to have ever actually happened but oughhhhhh i want to see Joan and Sherlock platonically co-parent a kid so bad