#love u bestie <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[splatpostcentral]

[ghosts-of-love]

i headcanon that you are kind and lovely and a great friend 😌 (no but actually i always imagine you’re someone who loves a museum gift shop and literally gets so excited at every tiny knick knack)

Quill bestie you are so so sweet ❤️ and you are also so correct about gift shops 😌 Museum gift shops are expensive but also INCREDIBLE. I normally spend a while playing with the toys and then buy postcards that I inevitably forget to stick on my bedroom wall.

send me your headcanons about me!

[fatuismooches]

No other reason for this other than me being self-indulgent and having some fun. Dottore and Fragile Reader of course.

Prime Dottore - About You:

"If you were expecting me to... gush about them and whatnot, then your expectations are nonsensical. I have nothing to share with you about them. I merely have three things to say. Do not get close to them, do not make them upset, and do not get in my way, regardless of what I have to do to make them better."

Omega - About You:

"...[Name]? Their time is far too valuable to be spent around the likes of you. Speaking of, have you seen them? ...You say they're with another segment now? A pity. It's a shame they're always swept away by the others. I could please them far more than anyone else in any matter. I suppose I will need to think of a way to retrieve them yet again."

Alpha (Akademiya) - About You:

"Do you know how many pens and pencils I've broken due to [Name]? Even centuries later they still find the need to debate me on certain topics, academic or not, challenge my research and thinking, and criticize my handwriting. Truly an annoyance. If only they were able to be with me a bit longer... What? They are annoying, but I still acknowledge that they have the traits of a true scholar. And their voice is still much more agreeable than the others I have to work with..."

Beta (Webttore) - About You:

"Hehe, what a loyal assistant they are. They can pick apart different parts and mechanics with ease. Much more competent than that man I disposed of a while ago, on that expedition... along with all the others. Unfortunately, I only have a limited amount of time with them. Really, is it so difficult to find someone with even a third of their ability? Actually, that is a foolish question. No one could ever hope to compare to them."

Delta - About You:

"They have an exceptional talent for pestering me at any given moment, somehow seeking me out wherever I am easily. If only they could put their mind into something more productive. Why do I not simply ignore them? Because they do not stop until they've gotten their desired results, just like me. I'd rather not prolong their prodding.

Zeta - About You:

"... As long as they are well, I need not know anything else. Their health is of utmost priority."

Zandy - About You:

"[Name]? Oh, they're the best, most nicest and fun grown-up ever! I'm never alone now that they're around! They're always willing to play with me and they always yell at the other segments when they're being mean. They're never scared at all... [Name] could probably beat Prime in a fight if they wanted. Hmm? But they can't even throw a punch? That doesn't matter! They're much stronger than you think - I've witnessed it many times."

Pierro - About You:

"When I first recruited Dottore from the desert and gave him his Harbinger position, one of the first things he did was set up a room to monitor [Name]'s condition. He did so for hundreds of years, creating numerous segments to help, and it ended up paying off. It is not my place to pry into his life, as long as he fulfills his duties as the Tsaritsa requests, but now that they're by his side again, he seems... never mind."

Capitano - About You:

"I once encountered them when they managed to sneak out of the lab. They were... intriguing and talkative. They weren't scared in the slightest and were more interested in how I managed to befriend all the creatures near me. They wanted... tips on how to convince the Doctor to let them have a pet. I don't think I was very helpful."

Columbina - About You:

"The Doctor is engrossed with his research, but the only thing he truly has a soft spot for is his dearest [Name]. He hides his feelings exceptionally well, but anyone who witnesses him around them can tell the difference. Don't tell him I said this though, you know how he'll act.~ But do tell [Name] this, they're sure to get flustered. ♪"

Arlecchino - About You:

"They have made attempts to get closer to me, but I'm afraid I have no interest in building a relationship with them. Still, I've always thought that their character would be similar to that of the Doctor, but from what I've seen of them, that does not seem to be the case. So, I do wonder if those two opposites truly get along."

Pulcinella - About You:

"I have seen many things in this long life of mine, so unlike many others, their relationship with Dottore does not surprise me too much. Still, they have much to learn if they feel the need to come and ask me for relationship advice. If you ask me, I believe that they don't truly know how much the Doctor values them, even if it is as clear as day."

Wanderer - About You:

"The Doctor's little pet? Every time I saw them, they were always scurrying behind one of the segments, as if they were attached by the hip. I don't know what transpired between the two of them for this relationship to happen, but out of all the people who associate with Dottore, they're bound to meet the nastiest end."

Sandrone - About You:

"The Doctor? [Name]? I have no care for either of them. I am much too busy with my own work to think about his worthless love life. However, I do suppose the idea is entertaining - Dottore being capable of love is as laughable as thinking an Automaton can learn to cherish another, and this [Name] person is equally as idiotic for believing so."

La Signora - About You:

"[Name], you say? I can't claim to know much about them. Everything I've heard is through the mouths of others, mostly from agents who talk more than what's good for them, but especially the Balladeer. What are they really like - a harmless and fragile sweetheart? A tool for the Doctor? His equally as heartless accomplice? Or all of the above? All I can say, however, is that it takes one to know one, right?"

Pantalone - About You:

"Ah, the little one. I am more than familiar with them, although Dottore would loathe to hear that. Did you know the Doctor is more prone to jealousy than you think? It is most amusing to see his ever-confident smirk fall once you get a bit too close to [Name]. I vividly remember the time when I said I would accompany [Name] to a ball instead, as he was too busy with his research. He never changed his mind as quickly as he did once I promised to dance with them."

Childe - About You:

“I’ve always thought Dottore was eccentric, and after meeting [Name], I can say they are equally as weird as him, solely for choosing him as their husband. Their personality is nothing like his either - they are bubbly, affectionate, and most of all… extremely weak. Traits that Dottore has no interest in. And yet the segments seem to fawn over them… I just don’t understand them. I just hope they know what they’re getting into.”

Furina - About You:

"Whenever I see them, [Name] always make sure to arrange a tea party with their own homemade Sumerian sweets! It is truly a delight. I admit, I am a bit jealous of their skill. It's as if they have the experience of a hundred years! But of course, that's impossible. Regardless, they are very kind, and they also seem to have a particular liking for romantic films... an odd thing for someone affiliated with the Fatui to like."

Nahida - About You:

"A raven and a sparrow - two beings that are surely bound to be apart from each other, but when it comes to the Doctor and [Name], it seems that even the impossible becomes possible. Though my feelings toward them will not change because of what they've done, I can't help but be interested. What lengths will the Outcast go to cure the one he holds dear, and would [Name] still be able to love him if he becomes more of a monster?"

[graveyarrdshift]

THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH 🫶

I've been wanting to do an intro post for a VERY long time so

Hi! I'm Anix and my pronouns are she/her

Uh I don't know how to do intro posts so

Fandoms I'm a part of:

Taylor Swift

Percy Jackson (the entire Riordanverse ngl)

Hamilton

In The Heights

Beetlejuice (tho I don't talk a lot about it)

SIX (again, not as annoying bout it)

Epic the Musical

Harry Potter

Mean Girls

Heathers (I think by now we know I love musicals)

The Song of Achilles (my fav book of all time)

KOTLC

Miraculous Ladybug

Other things I like but idk if I can consider as fandom fandom?: Dead Poets Society (the movie, haven't read the book yet), Da Vinci Code (still need to watch the remaining movies and books but I've read and watched The Da Vinci Code), The Barbie Movie, Olivia Rodrigo, just music in general ngl, Chhichhore, YJHD, ZNMD, How I Met Your Mother, The Big Bang Theory, B99, Mythology, Disney Movies and yea other things which I'm forgetting rn lmao

Artists I like: Taylor Swift (more like LOVE), Olivia Rodrigo, girl in red, Halsey, Lin Manuel Miranda (<333333), Panic! At The Disco, Fall Out Boy, Tate McRae, Sabrina Carpenter, BLACKPINK, Dove Cameron, Arctic Monkeys, Lana Del Ray, Lorde, FINNEAS, Halsey (my love), etc.

My hobbies include: Baking, Reading, Listening to Music, History (just anything about it), Playing the Piano and other stuff which I'm also forgetting

Fun Fact: I'm crazy. And get attached easily. And I love hugs and asks.

Zodiac Sign: Virgo ♍️

MBTI: ENFP-T (The Campaigner)

Spotify: https://spotify.link/GJyXWOsmsDb

Moots who's blogs you should check out:

TAYLOR SWIFT: @poppy-inmyhair @redwidow616 @immercuryinretrograde @suburbanlegnd @butyoupaintedmegolden @augustpoem @daydreamsandloveletters

ANYTHING ASIAN: @starryalpacasstuff and @darlindreamer

ANYTHING LIN-RELATED: @poppy-inmyhair (istg she's your girl)

ANYTHING RELATED TO JONAH HAUER-KING AND HIS PROJECTS, ESPECIALLY TLM: @immercuryinretrograde

ANYTHING RELATED TO THE MCU: @redwidow616 (I hope I'm right about this)

ANYTHING RELATED TO HAMILTON: @poppy-inmyhair @redwidow616 and @sunfireshards

ANYTHING RIORDANVERSE RELATED: @redwidow616 @starryalpacasstuff (sometimes) and @sunfireshards

ANYTHING RELATED TO KOTLC AND NINJA TURTLES SPECIFICALLY: @awful-amatuer

and ofc there are other fandoms they may be a part of which I've not mentioned here but these are the main ones <3

DNI: homophobes, racists, misogynists, creeps, etc.

lastly,

I AM ALWAYS THERE FOR YOU IF YOU NEED TO TALK, VENT OR ANYTHING

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

[NEXT PART: FRIENDS (AGAIN)]

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

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@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

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@historygeekqueen @roseodelle @assriels @rem-ie @storiumemporium

@lovingkelj @itsswritten @breadsticks2004 @marina468 @sapphena

[chiangyorange]

i love drawing the same woman over and over again its my favorite pass time activity

@ingapotejtoo

[ksturf]

a tribute to the one and only david keith mccallum [19.09.1933-25.09.2023 ∞]

[linkedin-offficial]

all your friends are here to learn and play !

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

HI i’m personally a crutch user and i love scout with crutches but consider

pyro or engie crutch user(s)

im a big enjoyer of my comfort characters being just like me i hope this is ok 👍

Pyro or Engie crutch users? ❌️

Pyro AND Engie crutch users ✅️

Hopefully these cane personalisations don't look too weird?? I have no idea where I was going with Pyro tbh, I think I was trying to make it a mini lighter but kinda failed miserably :')

Edit: FUCK, YOU SAID CRUTCH NOT CANE I'M SO SORRY I GOT IT MIXED UP

[followmykpopsideblog]

@presidentdragon

The duality of artists 😊

[askgardenerwoods]

hi Emma! Who do you consider your friends do you have a crush on anybody?

" For crushes... "

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Interviewer: Avatar Aang, why did you run away from home? Aang: I was told I was the Avatar at like 12, and the pressure got to me so I childishly ran away. :( Ironically that ended up being the right choice, but that's a diff story. Interviewer: Fascinating. Did you take anyone with you? Aang: Of course! My best buddy, ol' pal Appa! :D Appa: Moo Interviewer: Avatar Korra, why did you run away from home? Korra: Well the first time- I don't want to talk about the second time- it was because those jerks wouldn't let me BE THE AVATAR! So I ran away to do my duties! Interviewer: Fascinating. Did you take anyone with you? Korra: Of course! Only the best girl ever, Naga! Naga: Woof

Interviewer: Avatar Kyoshi, why did you run away from home? Kyoshi: After witnessing the death of two of my loved ones. I swore to escape my sifu's control and to get revenge by any means necessary. Interviewer: Fascinating. Did you take anyone with you? Kyoshi: Of course! I took my totally 100%, platonic bestie Rangi! Mmmhmmm just friends, totally, ONLY friends. Haha. No secret longing feelings here, no siree. Rangi: Platonic???? Not by the end of this trip, not if I have anything to say about it!

[tangledinink]

my official campaign promise is that if wanderer wins their poll in the @tmntaucompetition then i'll drive to @vangh17a's house to personally shake their hand and give them a crisp high-five.

[fatuismooches]

Sobbing rn I just got hit with the cutest hurt/comfort idea for fragile!reader and Dottore

(The hurt in this instance is just fragile!reader's self deprecating inner monologue 😭)

What if reader was the sort who fussed over their appearance a lot? In the Akademiya they wouldn't be caught dead with dark circles under their eyes or having their hair messy.

Even if they did pull all nighters for a project, they always found time to put just a little bit of make-up on to lighten up their eyebags, and always had a simple yet neat hairstyle in mind in times they're in a rush.

They might be perishing from all the studies and assignments but they're going to look good doing it!

This made Reader and Zandik an even odder pair in the Akademiya. Reader who is always neat and in style, versus Zandik who just spent the whole night taking apart a ruin guard somewhere in Avidya Forest until the sun rose and he showed up as is.

That was one of the features Zandik found 'annoying' about Reader before they got together. Like - ugh they're so bubbly and energetic! They're running around everywhere and they're so chatty! Them with their— nice hair! And— pretty eyes, and those robes that actually fit them as if they were tailored! How pretentious of them— (he was down bad. Bro was coping with anger to bat away the feels)

But of course, that was all in the past. In the present, Reader can't take care of their appearance anymore. They couldn't even pick up a hairbrush, their joints ached horribly, they don't have the strength to hold something so light, they don't have the energy to do the basic care of untangling the strands of hair either.

They can't stand looking at their own reflection. That sense of 'wrongness' they couldn't fix, what they couldn't hide. How desperately they wanted to put just a little bit of blush at least, to give their skin some life with how sickeningly pale it was, no longer warm and saturated as it used to be.

They can't look at their eyes either. The greying, sagging bags beneath their lids was a taunt. No amount of sleep would get rid of them.

They can't wear outfits that were too elaborate. Their temperature fluctuated too much, a deathly cold beneath their skin, then a sudden spike in heat as if they were being scorched by the desert sun. They have to wear basic garments, comfortable without hindering layers to slow down their daily check-ups.

Reader is thankful for the segments caring for them, they really are. A segment brushing their hair while talking to them is a highlight of their day.

But... it wasn't the same.

Of course it wouldn't be, the segments were carers, nor stylists.

Still, the fact that they had no control over their appearance and presentation had their mental state withering.

Dottore noticed this. How withdrawn his dear had become. They had their days of silence, yes... but this was more sombre than usual.

He concludes that their illness was flaring up again, and that they were masking their pain instead of consulting with him. He comes to their room of course, his current duties be damned (not that he could've been productive even if he had wanted to, the Segments were restless and shrinking away from their tasks, their darling's current disposition bothered them.)

Opening the door slightly to enter, he sees them blankly staring at their reflection, prodding a finger on their prominent eyebags, rubbing their cheek to see if it would redden.

Ah... how could he had forgotten that. They were once very particular of how they looked. He should have known this possibility, witnessing their own sickly reflection would be distressing...

[The Crow visits a certain Dove. Despite how stiff and vague the Doctor had been with his words, the Damsalette only tittered in understanding, and imparted the knowledge he was seeking.]

The next day, Reader is sat on their vanity, waiting for a Segment to tend to them (always with a little bit of struggle to walk in the morning, but it's the least they could do to be less of an inconvenience already.)

The minutes tick by... he's late. Did something happen?

More time goes by, and they become more worried. They were about to get up and search before the door creaks open.

Zandik...? And he's carrying a... why does he have a bag?

They have plenty of questions. Why the late arrival? What was in the bag? Why was Zandik himself here?

Before they could ask all of this, however, he sets the small bag down on the vanity. He riffles through it... are those make-up brushes?

Wait, make-up?

The next half-hour was spent in stunned silence for Reader's part, Zandik was silent as well out of careful concentration. Gently applying everything, his touch on the brush strokes and blending soft... applying gloss on their lips.

Once Zandik moves on to their hair, they finally catch a glimpse of their reflection. Their cheeks were rosey, the dark circles under their eyes concealed, their lips no longer appearing dry, and instead plump and shimmering.

Oh.

... they almost looked like the way they were before their illness.

Almost.

But it was enough.

(Reader tries so hard not to cry. Fighting back tears, not wanting to ruin the make-up Zandik so diligently applied. Once Zandik was finished with their hair... they may have hiccuped a little bit.)

They may no longer have that upbeat energy they once boasted... but it was comforting to see their old reflection once again. It had been far too long.

You know, I really love this ask because my whole life I've pretty much never used make-up even though I want to so having Dottie do it for me heals me a bit. Also, I'm not very knowledgeable on it so apologies if anything is wrong. Okay, I'm done. 🤏

In all honesty, Dottore was never one to care much for outward looks but he has to admit that you still always manage to look good despite all of the work from school plus all of the work you help with for his experiments, plus... literally everything life throws at you. Yet you still bounce back like it was nothing. The scholar still had not discovered your secret to this yet despite observing you for so long, which furthered his interest in you even though he didn't admit it.

Zandik did maintain his appearance, to an extent of course as he didn't go out of his way to look great, but nothing compared to the effort you put in. So while he did look presentable most of the time, there have been quite a few times you made him late to class because there was no way you were going to let him out looking like that. You don't regret it, even when you get weird looks from the other students. Being 'odd' with your equally as odd lover was nothing to worry about, in your humble opinion.

Although Zandik couldn't hope to understand your strange nature, always mumbling under his breath about you while you laughed at his comments, he also couldn't help but enjoy being around you. You kept him on his toes (your words, not his.)

Unfortunately, this nature and style of yours gradually dissipated into nothing when your illness struck. At first, you refused to accept it, pushing yourself to do what you usually did but soon enough you realized that it simply wasn't going to work out. You had all these tools and resources and options in front of you but you couldn't use them anymore. The self-consciousness only grew more and more each day as you struggled to see yourself as beautiful - struggled to see yourself as a person Dottore would find beautiful.

Of course, your gratitude to the segments couldn't be properly expressed or put into words. You quite literally wouldn't be here without them. However, it is still incredibly demoralizing to be unable to do what you once loved. You really did love them, but... it wasn't enough.

Dottore, despite spending much time in his lab or elsewhere, still kept tabs on you of course. Not just as your doctor, but as your lover, it was important. He had seen you at your lowest numerous times before, comforting you through the worst moments, and he was angered - not at you of course, but rather at himself for being unable to do anything that would be enough for you. Yet he continued, even when you hid yourself from him.

This time, however, maybe the scientist could do a bit more. He doesn't particularly... approve of the Third, or your "friend", but she's far more knowledgeable in this area than he'll ever be. Thankfully, she didn't tease him too much, knowing of your current state.

Dottore had never been one to take much interest in your make-up or style, preferring to simply watch as you worked your magic. So seeing him walk in with make-up makes you think you're still dreaming. (You remember laughing at his segment's various fashion tastes when you woke up though.)

The questions die on your lips the moment he lays everything out and the soft brush tickles your face, not to mention how he's obviously inexperienced yet he's still doing a good job. A part of you aren't surprised because of course he'd be skilled at most things, but still, you thought Celestia would sooner fall on Teyvat than Dottore do your make-up for you. Slowly, you watch as he transforms your face into something that was once dearly familiar.

It's not the same. It may never be. But it's more than enough for you, to revisit the old days that you loved so much. You fear you may cry full-on if you speak, so a simple kiss on your husband's face will have to do.

But regardless of what you look like, no matter how much your body and looks will change, Zandik will always view you as the most beautiful creation on this planet.

[katsu28]

to be alone together

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: steve has to work on valentine’s day, but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it would be

warnings: none, 1.8k

a/n: u know i had to do a lil something for my steve girlies too <3 went for a more steve centric pov bc he is the definition of pining simp 

navigation

(gif credits to @harringtondaily)

“Kinda sucks that you gotta work tonight.” Robin’s voice through the phone pressed to Steve’s ear was staticky, but still provided a good distraction from the empty video store around him.

It was Valentine’s Day and Steve had been at Family Video since opening, watching couple after couple come in to pretty much clear the romcom shelves, and yeah, he was a little bummed about it, but there was no point moping around about it any longer than he already had been. 

“It’s whatever, honestly. Not like I had any plans to begin with.” He sighed, shifting the receiver so it was wedged between his cheek and shoulder as his fingers drifted down to fiddle with the pen on the counter absentmindedly. 

“Steve, that’s sad.” Robin replied. Steve wrinkled his nose, a slightly offended noise escaping the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you should be out and about, having a good time.” 

“You know what’s actually sad? You talking to me instead of paying attention to your date.” He shot back, only half serious. “Where’s Nance?” 

“Oh she’s right here. Say hi, Nance.” 

Steve heard a faint ‘hi Steve’ in the background and he returned the greeting. “What are you guys doing tonight?” 

“She made this really fancy pasta thing for dinner, we’re just waiting on the chicken to finish in the oven and I thought I’d see what was going on with you.” Robin sounded casual, but he knew this was her way of checking up on him since he was the only one on shift all day and she knew how he felt about today. 

“Rob, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, but I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“Why don’t you just close up early, come join us for dinner? We have more than enough food.” 

“You’re seriously inviting me to crash your romantic dinner date with your girlfriend?” He snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “What does Nancy think of that?” 

There was some shuffling on the other end, a bout of silence, then Robin was back on the line. “She’s giving me a weird look, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my best idea.” 

“I love you both, but you know I can’t.” 

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Steve’s attention away from his phone call and to whoever just walked in. 

Shit. It was you. 

You were dressed like you were supposed to be on your date, not here, hair and makeup done up all pretty, floaty dress in his favorite color swishing around your knees as you made your way into the store. It made him wonder if you chose that color on purpose, but he knew that you didn’t. You couldn’t have known you’d be seeing him tonight. Wishful thinking on his end though. 

“Rob, I gotta go,” He blurted, straightening up behind the counter. 

“Wait, what—” 

“I gotta go, she’s—someone’s here, I gotta help her.” 

“She? Oh my god, wait! Is it—” 

“Have a nice date, tell Nance I said bye!” With that, Steve hung up, slamming the receiver onto the base with enough force to send it skittering a few inches. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Steve!” Your previously downturned lips lifted into a smile, one that had Steve’s heart thudding a little faster in his chest. It always did. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.” 

See, you were also part of the reason he decided to take the extra shift today, but through no fault of your own. You’d mentioned earlier in the week while you were hanging out with him and Robin that someone had asked you out for tonight, and Steve didn’t really know how to feel about it. 

You were friends, but had Steve been harboring a crush on you since pretty much the first day you met? Yes. 

Did he feel an itching sense of jealousy that you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him? Also yes. 

Would he do anything about it? Probably not. 

Okay, so maybe he knew exactly how he felt about it. Hell, he’d picked up an extra shift to distract himself from it. 

“Yeah, I got called in last minute." A lie. "Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” A casual, not at all hoping that it crashed and burned question. That would be mean. (But also a little gratifying for him.)

You chuckled, a tad bitter as you leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter, the action sending a whiff of your perfume his way. Steve’s knees almost gave out. “Supposed to, yeah. But the guy never showed up.” 

Steve had to fight a noise of surprise. What kind of dumbass would skip out on a date with you? “Really? That’s—that sucks, I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Wasn’t really looking forward to it anyways.” 

“Oh?” 

“I didn’t really know him that well, honestly. He was a friend of a friend, asked me out in front of a bunch of people, and I didn’t really wanna turn him down and make it awkward.” 

“You’re way too nice, Y/N. And he’s an idiot for standing you up.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” You smiled warmly at him, patting his hand. Steve had to pretend his pulse wasn’t racing right now. “What about you? Why’re you here and not out with anyone?” 

“I, uh—I didn’t really feel like going out tonight. Don’t think I’d be a very good date anyways.”

“Oh, you’re just being modest. What girl wouldn’t wanna spend Valentine’s Day with Steve Harrington?” 

The one girl he wanted to spend this day with, he thought. You. 

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered. 

“Well then they’re idiots too.” 

A small smile quirked his lips. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, I just came to pick up some movies and spend the rest of my night shoveling down ice cream, but since we’re both here now and alone, d’you wanna…be alone together? Grab a bite to eat or do something?” 

Steve’s shoulders slumped defeatedly. “I’d love to, but I—I can’t. I gotta stay here til the end of my shift, Keith’s been on my ass about taking off early and as much as I hate the guy, I don’t wanna get fired.” 

“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m, uh—it’s cool.” Was he hallucinating, or did you look disappointed? 

“Would you maybe wanna, I dunno, stay here? We can watch whatever you want and I know where Robin keeps her work snack stash. That way we can be alone together and I don’t get chewed out again?” Steve blurted hopefully. He was honestly expecting you to say no. Why would you wanna spend the rest of your already shitty night with him in a dingy video store? But then your face split into the biggest smile and you nodded, rocking forward on the balls of your feet earnestly. “Go pick something out, I’ll grab the snacks.” 

You scurried off to browse the near bare shelves, leaving Steve shaking his head amusedly in your wake as he watched you skim the tapes with a look of utmost concentration. He slipped into the back room to grab Robin’s last unopened bag of chips, making a mental note to buy more before tomorrow’s shift before returning to the video area.

He skimmed the store, spotting you in the romcom section, and when he made his way over, you were contemplating the last two tapes on the shelf. 

You beamed at him upon spotting him. “Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?” 

“Am I allowed to say neither?” 

“You said whatever I want, Steve.” You said pointedly, propping your hands on your hips. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. You let out a hum of pleasure, sliding your chosen movie off the shelf and wandering towards the TV in the corner. Steve hurried after you quickly, plucking the tape from between your fingertips and running away, not unlike a child would. 

“Steve!” You huffed, whirling on your heel. He grinned mischievously at you, waving it in the air like a taunt. You caught up with him within seconds, lunging for the tape that he held up above his head and away from your outstretched hand. Your body was pressed against his as you reached for it, as you leaned against him in a fruitless attempt to overpower him. “Steve, gimme the tape!” 

“No!” He laughed, but that laughter very soon trickled off as soon as he realized your proximity. You were so close, he could see the color of your eyes clear as day, looking right back at him. You’d fallen quiet too, as if you’d come to the same realization. 

You were nose to nose, faces a hair’s breadth away from each other, the stolen tape in Steve’s hands long forgotten. Every fiber in his body was telling him to pull away, because the longer he stayed here the weirder it would be when he finally did manage to retreat, but no matter how hard he willed himself to move, he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes flicked down to your lips. Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly. 

“Steve?” You whispered, gaze darting around his own face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Steve dropped the tape immediately, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips against yours. His hands came up to cup your face, holding you firm but kissing you soft, like he was preparing himself to pull away if you did. But from the way you were returning his kiss, how your hands clutched at the front of his vest to keep him this close, it didn’t feel like you’d be pulling away anytime soon, and that spurred him on even more. 

One hand slid down to settle at your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little bit. 

Steve’s lips felt tingly when he pulled away, tasted of your cherry lip gloss when his tongue darted out to lick them. He was sure to have a little bit on his mouth now, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not by a long shot. Cherry might’ve just become his new favorite flavor. 

“I really like you.” He breathed, chest heaving against yours. Your lips curved into a soft smile—the same smile that nearly sent Steve’s brain short circuiting every time it was aimed his way. 

“After that kiss, I’d sure hope so,” You replied, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt as best you could. “I like you too, just so you know. Part of the reason I was so okay with my date ditching me. He wasn’t you.” 

Steve could only beam at you, going in for another kiss. In his excitement, he missed his mark, hitting the corner of your mouth instead, but he didn’t care. The girl he wanted all along actually liked him back, and it only took one failed date and an extra shift to find out. 

Maybe working on Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"And soda; runs off into the street..." "...and soda... is totally okay!"