#okay both my icon are me

[dipplinduo]

(Spoilerless) Sweet & Sour Dipplins: Live footage of me mulling over writing Chapter 23

Me at the thought of potentially incorporating past Briar even though it would probably be plot relevant:

Me weighing out the pros and cons of having a past Kieran POV:

Me realizing I could have a past Drayton appearance just because I can even though he has little to do with the point of the chapter:

[wikitpowers]

blackstairs is such an amazing ship idc what anyone says (still mind-blowing that someone can dislike them fr wtf)

i'm a SUCKER for friends-to-lovers (more like parabatai-to-lovers in this case, but u know what i mean...) and i love that trope so badly and it fit them so well ahhhh

and the slow burn and mutual pining just made their relationship even more intense and interesting (not to mention the forbidden romance hello?!?)

every single scene of theirs is immaculate idfc

artists: @oblivionsdream, @ella_j.osse, @gatovtina + @polarts_

[sparkles-oflight]

Kris: I was made fun of by being labeled a girl and I even cut my hair short. I just wanted the attention of girls and that's why I started playing the guitar...

Fandom: lesbian icon, right there

(my art, don't repost)

[rklf001]

this applies to me and me only tbh

[chirp-featherfowl]

PREVIEWING: the one where i write fanfiction about a man with a wife and kid

(working title.)

“Ow,” Martyn says, monotone. “Ouch. Ough. Ack.”

Scott reaches up and hits him on the face. “Would you quit it with the dramatics?”

Two thirteen year old boys sit up in a treehouse much too high up to be safe. Rain patters gently on the roof, and water seeps in through the cracks of the old, splintered wood, hitting Scott on the forehead if he dares lean his head back. It smells of mold and 70% alcohol. “Sorry,” Martyn replies. He sits on an old pillow, skinned knee up and facing Scott.

It looks just about how Scott had expected Pearl and Big B’s treehouse to look like. There’s a tattered Wings of Fire poster up on the wall, but upon closer inspection, he can clearly see that it’s just four printed sheets of paper taped together.

Scott presses another one of those alcohol pads up to Martyn’s knee, and he hisses, scooting back just a little bit before a sorry look flashes across his face. Martyn moves back, and Scott expects Jimmy to pop up with a tirade of complaints, but Jimmy is not there. He’s getting his blond boys confused.

That’s what I get for having a crush before reaching high school, Scott thinks.

[belle-keys]

“heart of darkness” (3x19) is just too good! we got: rose and damon playful flirting, elena checking out damon all while he’s totally aware she’s watching him, ‘never let me go’ rabid makeout scene, rose unprovoked giving jeremy the best insight about delena versus stelena thereby making me deep these vampire ships like if i have to write a paper on them or something, evil alaric comes out to play, and klaroline crumbs!

[arklay]

DANI HAINES x CLAIRE REDFIELD / template.

[lichtecht]

PART 18

of the dfk audiobook translation

@cnka

Bökh: „Uh, Martina- Could you please stay with me for a moment?“ Matze: „Ciao!“ Bökh: „Ciao!“ Uli: „Thanks for the lemonade, Herr Bökh.“ Jo: „Bye!“

The door closes behind them.

Bökh: „Um… about your math's test… Um… it was only a 4.“ Martina: „…What?“ Bökh: „Minus.“ Martina: „But… I’ve never gotten a 4.“ Bökh: „It’s not your fault either, you’re just behind a certain bit. I'm offering to study with you in the holidays. So you can pass the admission test.“ Martina: „…“

Martina nods.

Bökh: „Ok? Yeah?“ Martina: „…Could I use your telephone please?“ Bökh: „Yes, of course. Back there.“ Martina: „Thank you. I’d have to call home.“ Bökh: „Ok. Can you remind your mother about the money for the car hood?“

Narrator (audiobook): Martina nods hesitantly. When she calls home, she only reaches Oskar, who is sitting alone at the dinner table once again.

(telephone ringing)

Oskar: „Hello?“ Martina: „…It’s me!“ Oskar: „Martina?! You know what, I found my worm! And now he’s at home with us! And I’ll take him to our vacation so you’ll see him too!“ Martina: „…Oskar… I need to stay here. For the entire holidays. I need to prepare for the test.“ Oskar: „…What? You’re not coming to vacation? But- but you promised we’d go on vacation together.“

Martina: „I know. But I need to pass the test first.“ Oskar: „You- you could study here. You and Mama always said, a promise is a promise.“ Martina: „No. I can’t do this alone.“

Oskar: „You know what?! Just stay in your shitty Kirchberg, I can do this without you, I hate you!“

Oskar hangs up the phone with a slam.

SCENE CHANGE

Narrator (audiobook): Later in the evening, Jo and Martina are in their room, and she is sitting on her bed sadly.

Jo is drawing. She looks up.

Martina: (sniffles quietly) Jo: „…Are you okay?“ Martina: „Yeah, yeah.“

Narrator (audiobook): Jo sits down next to her friend.

Jo: „Do you know why this film is so important to me?“

Martina shakes her head.

Jo: „I want to send it to my mother. I thought she’d come to the performance, but… the whole thing is off.“ Martina: „…“

Jo: „My foster parents will come to the closing party. …But they’re booked out the entire summer… Hm. That’s it for my holidays.“ Martina: „Why do you have foster parents, by the way?“

Jo: „When I was five… my mother abandoned me in a disco. Afterwards, she went into hiding for years. A while ago, my foster parents found her in Brazil.“ Jo: „… I was really happy.“ Jo: „… But we won’t see each other. She can’t make it.“ Martina: „I’m sorry.“

[paramounticebound]

|| plotted starter for @dethqveen​!

Precisely what it was that had compelled him remained a mystery, unsolvable in his own mind; any array of typical reason fell short of his being. He’d acknowledged that what he did know was something ancient, an instinct sewn into DNA, a primal devoir at the atomic level. Evolution was like that, select neurons firing in his brain, leading him here. Leading him to Club Oz in the late evening, only pausing at the entrance long enough confirm his destination.

And perhaps, searching-- wandering-- endlessly in Oslo, made him lonely.

He ignored the thought. He ignored it and ignored it long after he’d found a seat near the stage, watching the dancers. Only one in particular caught his attention-- Khan didn’t pretend the draw was anything less than the archaic yearning that had brough him here in the first place. Tattoos, piercings, and scars acted as a beacon: that they might offer interesting conversation if nothing else. For once, he found himself uncertain. 

     “Hallo,” he knew his accent and slight butchering of the language indicated his esotericism better than anything else could, “Er du tilgjengelig for en privat dans?"

[electronicneutrino]

I am....honestly....This Close to redrawing the pulling out the sword scene from r e v olu tionary g i rl ute na but with fem sniper and spy purely due to the one fanfic

[pinnedangel]

it’s always fun realizing a kink i was at one time neutral on has grown on me without fully realizing it. just. huh. i reblog posts about this frequently enough to the point that i should probably add it to my pinned as a combination advertisement and warning shouldn’t i. it’s up to you, however, to guess which kinks have always been in that poorly formatted mess and which i’ve just added.

[hecksupremechips]

Shinjiro Aragaki 🤝 Rebecca Gales

Mom friends who constantly try telling others how they should live their lives and believe they know what’s best for everyone else who would explode and die if anyone did the same to them

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[chaostudee]

my woman part two, lando norris

summary : y/n spends the summer break with her two favourite people but summer always has to come to an end. warnings : none a/n : tysm for all the love on part one, here is the highly requested part two xx

y/nusername summer with my love

liked by landonorris, alexsaintmleux, georgerussell and 4,118,910 others.

user119 omg the bump im sobbing 😭

f1fan my fav family

alexsaintmleux literally glowing

y/nusername 💋

landonorris i don't want this summer to end

carmenmundt can't wait to see you <3

y/nusername literally can't wait to see you again eeek

y/nmyfave i can't believe that they are acc going to be parents soon, literally felt like yesterday when they announced their engagement 🫠

y/nusername

》 landonorris god you are so beautiful

》 y/nusername such a simp 🤭 》 landonorris only for you

》 user11 dress from where???

》 f1fan i think its zara but i'm not sure

》 carmenmundt is that my cardigan i see 👀

》 y/nusername my fashion icon

landonorris the summer break of dreams.

liked by y/nusername, oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc and 5,910,901 others.

y/nusername yes he did ask me to play mermaids with him

landonorris yk u wanted to ;)

f1fan normally summer break is hell but my parents being active makes up for it

user9201 he's so cutsie like look at that smile

y/nlover y/n one chance plssss

charlesleclerc inside he's still a child

oscarpiastri i can confirm this ☝️

carmenmundt reunited with bestie @y/nusername

liked by georgerussell, landonorris and y/nusername and 230,001 others.

y/nusername my fav person

landonorris um excuse me tffff

georgerussell ❤️

f1fan underrated duo imo !

user102 imagine being friends with them 😩

landonorris back to the track 🏎

》 user929 stop no more y/n and lando content kill me now

》 f1fan he looks miserable

y/nusername

landonorris good result, good food, good weekend.

liked by maxverstappen, charlesleclerc and oscarpiastri and 6,334,906 others.

f1lover his smileeee im blushing

user929 the curls are curling

oscarpiastri he did in fact try to fit all those waffles in his mouth all at once

charlesleclerc 💀

f1wagupdates bros majestic

carmenmundt

liked by landonorris, georgerussell, oscarpiastri and 590,820 others.

landonorris george's face is such a jumpscare

charlesleclerc fr

f1_619 queen of the paddock

user929 stop i miss y/n so bad

f1lover BEST WAG AND BEST COUPLE ARGUE WITH THE WALL

georgerussell i love you

landonorris had to dnf on the last lap, but oscar on the podium so great job team 💪 hopefully next week is better.

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri and charlesleclerc and 4,220,790 others.

f1fan it's okay pookie we still love you

oscarpiastri sorry mate but if u want we can co own my trophy

landonorris um yesss

f1lover mclaren screwed him over again

user528 girl what-

y/nusername baby girl is here (evelyn norris) and we couldn't be happier. we both love you so much already and can't wait for the rest of our lives with you.

liked by landonorris, georgerussell, carmenmundt and 8,910,517 others.

landonorris our baby girl 🫶

carmenmundt my bsf is officially a mommy

georgerussell congrats you guys !!

user7282 yes i sobbed when i saw this post and what about it?

oscarpiastri real

lewishamilton big congratulations to you both ❤️

f1wagupdates sobbing

fernandoalonso wow i feel old

f1lover im calling it first she will be the star of the paddock

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@sweetestgirlintown111

@hadidsworld

@mxryxmfooty

[sharkieboi]

texts im not going to send to my sister but I really want to:

“I’m sorry your wedding isn’t the only major thing happening in everyone else’s lives and that certain extra credit things you want for it have not or may not happen because the people around you also have lives”

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which a impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!