#also wtf are backgrounds lol

[astranauticus]

Director of the False Last Act

[hanzajesthanza]

when sapkowski is all “i don’t believe in absolute evil” like he didn’t write like vilgefortz and leo bonhart and birkart grellenort likeeee okkkk but those guys were preeeetty evil though

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also riawin timeloop ("canon compliant" (still focusing on character so not canon compliant in that way)) ft. the attempts to make things work but that only goes Winston? more like Win State over giving up on that b/c he's in a situation where no matter what he does the other person chooses to see him as a nonperson (so canon compliant it's barely an au. the role sure exited the iterative loop upon giving up on all that (not possible to Win (the final Lose is others killing him))

[hayaku14]

DETECTIVE CONAN MOVIE 26 KUROGANE NO SUBMARINE

Anything black org related is very hype for me but my favourite part of this trailer is seeing Agasa getting to shine and actually do something other than be a comic relief. And I love that it happens in a movie that's centered on Haibara ;-; LOOK AT HIM ANGERYYYYY!!!!! YOU DO NOT MESS WITH HIS ADOPTIVE DAUGHTER!!!!

she's so pretty crying with conan's glasses on thoooo, haibara and coai stans are getting fed in 2023

anyways, here's a conan screenshot cos he's my fave 🥹

[blindchandelure]

From Samy’s Instagram story. August 4th, 2023.

[jmkho]

✨️👁Stay Weird👁✨️

[highseraphs]

I haven’t done a wol info meme in a while and this one looked rly fun!!! :) Here’s my sky pirate bun ^_^ 💖💖

Original template by @/snail_drop!!!!!

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

there are many benefits to knowing basic html cod- oh god oh fuck

[heisttheblackflag]

I may be a lesbian but platy is one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen

[overbearingstruggles]

I really wanna understand your love for kieran culkin, I loved him in Scott Pilgrim.

Oh my god this is so nice you really don’t have to ask but I love that you did!!!!!!!!

I wish I had a less lizard brain answer to attribute the spark to but sometimes you need someone to do something sexual in order for your brain to unlock that interest in them and the Roman/Gerri phone scene takes the prize. When I rewatched the show I had zero recollection of the emotional scene that happens right after because apparently I blacked out lol. So then I’m watching the rest of the show through new eyes which of course leads to huh, I definitely love this character and am attracted to this being, but do I also love this person? Anon, he’s so lovable! The pro and con of Kieran & Roman is there is A Lot of Kieran in the character. Uh the best parts, we hope. He’s this secure short king with quick wit who talks fast and can require a bit of attention but is humble as heck about how good he is at his job and has this quirky decorated right appendage and isn’t afraid to crack jokes when someone broaches the subject of his irl family or politely shut them down when he thinks they’re off base about something. I love the little bit I know about him and his wife’s relationship and the way they can publicly poke fun at each other. I love that he lived in the same tiny apartment from 19 to 39 until his wife finally said “you’re on a hit TV show.” I love how sweet and diplomatic he is when someone tries to poke him about Jeremy Strong being weird. I swear you can feel interviewers become infatuated with him for being a real and funny, charming person. In conclusion, I think he's neat!

[homosexualcitron]

IM SO GLAD SOME PEOPLE NOTICED THEM IN MY LAST UPDATES :33 oc cameo yeay

[givemethedamnflowers]

I stalked myself bc i'll be employed by an american company so i get a ✨️background check✨️

And im quite proud to announce : the only findable things w/ my name on it are facebook and linkedin and that was the goal

[bread-is-my-life]

I'M SCREAMING OMG (⁠ﾉ⁠≧⁠∇⁠≦⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠ ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

HIIII!!!! I love how you coloured that panel with All might it looks really cool ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ May I suggest this panel from when All Might and Stain first met? Or any other panel from their meeting :D

Coloring random MHA manga panels day 3 [Request]

[scopeystfu]

was anyone else really paying attention to them fighting in the background when they watch episode 3!?? dude these two are sooo fuckin funny they fight like kids

-Vi tags her a bit on the face but it makes Jinx fully roll back and FALL OFF the platform

- edit: also a bit hard to see cause Caitlyn leg but after Vi tags her Vi tries to swing again harder but falls to the ground in front of the edge and Jinx pops right back up at that moment and tries to clip her but ALSO misses LOL

-Jinx climbs backs up and all air no leverage jumps onto Vi into this hug like "bitch you gonna have to catch me". Vi reacts like "wtf???"

-Jinx grabs onto her goggle for leverage and put her head back to start pumbling but Vi not letting that happen and grabs HER OWN face and pushes her head back like "naww, get off"

Even the shot after, Jinx does have fighting skill but fights like, sporadically, less precision sometimes and multiple times tried to almost grab Vi to hit multiple times in a row, also a little bit desperate but remember, she is angry in general too, sometimes that causes reckless-ness. But anyway I think Vi being the more skilled fighter and bigger it doesn't effect her so much.

But anyway, they is so funny and cute and such siblings.

[23victoria]

six thrity

pairings: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: cussing, rude reporter, sexual innuendos, lil angsty, fluff, semi-complicated relationship

authors note: i’m so sorry if this is bad, i’m trying to finish up this 1k celebration cause i def made it too long but that’s my fault lol, also i’m almost at 2k…you guys are insane wtf, thank you, bedsides that ignore any typos, any feedback, comments, reblogs, are appreciated and i hope you enjoy!!

wanna be apart of my taglist?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the bustling paddock at Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya. It was Carlos Sainz's home race, and the atmosphere was electric. Fans waved flags adorned with his number, and the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation. You watched from a distance as Carlos navigated his way through the media zone, his expression a mix of focus and polite detachment.

It was media day, and Carlos was in his element, handling the questions with the ease of a seasoned driver. You stood near the paddock's edge, trying to blend in with the sea of team members, engineers, and journalists, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. Despite the numerous interviews he had done over the past few days, Carlos never failed to flash that charming smile that had you falling for him in the first place. Today, however, there was an edge to his demeanor, something just beneath the surface that only you, someone who knew him so intimately, could detect.

From your spot, you could hear bits and pieces of the questions being thrown at him. They started as the usual race-related queries about tire strategies, car performance, and his thoughts on the competition. Carlos answered them with the poise of a driver who had been through this routine countless times.

But then, the questions shifted. The reporter in front of him, a man you recognized from a particularly notorious tabloid, changed his tone, his voice taking on an almost casual disregard that immediately put you on edge.

"Carlos, you've had an impressive season so far," the reporter began, and you could see Carlos nodding along, a polite smile on his face. "But let's talk about something a bit more personal, shall we? There have been some rumors floating around about your relationship with Y/N. Everyone knows you come from a well-off family and have a successful career ahead of you. But don’t you think Y/N, with her background, might not really fit into this world? Some people are saying she's with you for the status, that she might be out of her depth here. How do you respond to that?"

Your heart sank, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. The reporter’s tone was dripping with condescension as if he were speaking about something trivial, not your life, your relationship. You felt your cheeks burn with a mix of humiliation and anger, every fiber of your being wanting to rush over there and demand he take it back. But before you could even move, you saw Carlos’s posture stiffen, the polite smile on his face faltering as the question fully registered.

For a moment, the paddock seemed to fall silent, the world narrowing down to just the two of you and that reporter. Carlos’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His smile faltered, confusion clouding his expression. His brows furrowed as the full weight of the question settled on him. It wasn’t about racing anymore; it was an attack on the woman he loved.

"Perdón, ¿qué dijiste?" Carlos's voice was low, measured, but there was a dangerous edge to it that you had never heard before. It was the kind of tone that warned of a storm brewing beneath the surface.

The reporter, clearly not expecting the reaction, stammered, "I-I was just asking if—"

Carlos didn’t let him finish. "No, no. Who do you think you are to disrespect my girlfriend like that? Do you think you can speak about her like she’s some kind of accessory or fling?" 

Carlos straightened in his posture, his gaze turning steely as he locked eyes with the reporter. "Are you serious right now?" he began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of anger. "I think you’re gravely mistaken if you believe Y/N is with me for any reason other than love."

The journalist opened his mouth to interject, but Carlos held up a hand, cutting him off. The room was utterly silent now, every eye fixed on Carlos as he continued.

"Let me tell you something about Y/N," he said, his voice firm. "She is one of the most intelligent, driven, and compassionate people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t need me or anyone else to define her worth. In fact, I’m the lucky one in this relationship, not her. I wake up every day grateful that she chose to let me be a part of her life."

Carlos’s eyes blazed with intensity as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of his conviction. "Y/N isn’t just some accessory to me or anyone else in this world. She’s built her life on her own terms, with her own strength and brilliance. She’s accomplished so much without the privileges that others might take for granted, and she’s done it all with integrity and grace."

The reporter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Carlos wasn’t done. His voice grew more impassioned as he continued, "Y/N doesn’t need me to validate her existence. She’s fiercely independent, and she’s made it clear that she stands on her own two feet. But she chose to be with me, and that’s something I never take for granted. Every day I am humbled by her presence in my life. She inspires me to be a better man, and I strive to be worthy of her love."

Carlos leaned forward slightly, his gaze never wavering from the reporter’s. "So, to suggest that she’s with me for status or that she doesn’t belong in this world is not only disrespectful to her but also profoundly ignorant. Y/N belongs wherever she chooses to be, and if you can’t see that, then that’s your problem, not hers."

The silence that followed was deafening. Carlos’s words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and emotion. The journalist who had asked the question looked visibly shaken, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Carlos’s response.

But Carlos wasn’t finished. Switching to Spanish, his tone softened slightly, but the edge of protectiveness remained. "No tienes ni idea de quién es ella," he said, his voice low but firm. "Ella es la mujer más increíble que he conocido. Mi madre siempre me enseñó a valorar a las personas por quienes son, no por lo que tienen, y Y/N es el mejor ejemplo de eso. Ella es amable, fuerte, y mucho más inteligente de lo que puedes imaginar. No necesitas mi vida para brillar, ya lo hace por su cuenta. Yo soy el afortunado aquí, no ella."

Carlos’s gaze swept across the room, making sure his words were fully absorbed by everyone present. He then fixed his eyes on the reporter once more. "And as for your question about her ‘fitting in,’" he added, now back in English, "Y/N doesn’t have to fit into anyone’s expectations. She’s too extraordinary for that. So let me make this clear: If anyone should be worried about ‘fitting in,’ it’s not her—it’s anyone who doesn’t see her value."

You watched, stunned, as Carlos ripped into the reporter with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. The entire paddock seemed to hold its breath, everyone frozen as they witnessed Carlos’s fierce defense of you. But he wasn’t done. Switching to rapid Spanish, he unleashed a tirade that had the reporter shrinking back in fear.

"Eres una vergüenza. No tienes ningún respeto. Claramente, tu madre no te crió bien, porque si lo hubiera hecho, sabrías cómo tratar a las personas con dignidad. Eres un pedazo de mierda por hablar así de mi novia."

("You're a disgrace. You have no respect. Clearly your mother didn't raise you right, because if she had, you'd know how to treat people with dignity. You're a piece of shit for talking about my girlfriend like that.")

You understood enough Spanish to catch the general gist of his words, but the intensity with which he delivered them left you reeling. The Carlos you knew was calm, composed, always in control. But here he was, publicly tearing apart a journalist who had dared to insult you, and doing so with a passion that made your heart race.

As Carlos’s assistant finally intervened, gently pulling him away from the confrontation, you noticed that Carlos didn’t hesitate for a second before turning and striding toward you. The fury in his eyes softened the moment they met yours, and without a word, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if anchoring himself to you.

He led you away from the paddock, away from the prying eyes and whispering voices, his grip on your hand firm yet comforting. You barely registered where he was taking you, too lost in the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirred up by the encounter. It wasn’t until you found yourself in the quiet sanctuary of Carlos’s private motorhome, the door closing behind you, that reality finally caught up.

Carlos turned to you, his expression filled with concern as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. "Cariño, are you okay? I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I should have protected you better."

You blinked up at him, still trying to process everything that had just happened. "I… I didn’t know you felt that way about me."

Carlos frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your voice trembling as you spoke. "I know we’ve been together for a year, but with you always traveling and everything, we’ve probably only seen each other for half of that time. And with everything… sometimes I wonder if you’re going to stay with me at all. I thought eventually you’d get tired of me, maybe decide you wanted to be with someone else, someone more like you. Someone who understands your world better."

Your words hung in the air, heavy and raw, the weight of your insecurities finally laid bare. You had never wanted to confront these fears, had always pushed them aside, but now, in the wake of Carlos’s fierce defense, they came spilling out uncontrollably.

Carlos’s eyes widened in shock, his hands trembling slightly as he moved them to your shoulders, grounding himself in your presence. "No, mi amor, no. I had no idea I was making you feel that way. I didn’t realize I was making you doubt how much I love you." His voice was thick with regret, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how he could have missed this.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, ashamed of the vulnerability you were exposing. "It’s just… I know I can be a lot sometimes. I get jealous easily, and I know that’s not fair to you. You have so many people around you, beautiful women who are more your type, who are part of your world. And I’m just… me. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a distraction for you, someone you’ll eventually outgrow."

Carlos’s heart broke at your words, the self-doubt that had been gnawing at you for months finally coming to light. He gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his expression filled with nothing but love and adoration.

"Listen to me, cariño," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "You are not just ‘you.’ You are the woman I love, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care where you come from, what your background is, or what anyone else thinks. You are the most important person in my life. No one else compares to you. Not models, not actresses, no one. I want you, and only you."

You stared at him, your breath hitching as you tried to comprehend the depth of his words. "But… what about all the times you were away? All the events and races where I wasn’t with you? Didn’t you ever feel like… like I was holding you back?"

Carlos shook his head, his grip on you tightening as if to physically reassure you of his feelings. "Never. Every time I’m away from you, all I think about is getting back to you. Every race, every event, I wish you were there with me. You’re not holding me back; you’re the reason I push forward. Because I want to build a future with you, a life where we’re always together. I’ve been a fool not to realize how my absence was affecting you, and for that, I’m so sorry, Y/N."

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, but they were tears of relief, of finally hearing the words you had longed to hear for so long. "I just… I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared that one day you’d wake up and realize I wasn’t enough."

Carlos’s eyes softened, his thumb wiping away your tears as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "You are more than enough, mi amor. You are everything. And I promise you, I’m going to spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me. I’ll make more time for us, for you. This summer break, I’m going to show you how much I love you, how much I’m in love with you."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you sniffled, the tension in your chest slowly unraveling. "Even if I want to do silly things?" you asked softly, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to keep the emotions in check. You felt vulnerable, laying your insecurities bare, but there was also a strange sense of relief in finally speaking them aloud.

Carlos smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He gently stroked your hair, his touch soothing. "Yes, cariño. Even if you want to do silly things."

You bit your lip, feeling a little more confident as you continued. "Even if I want to play video games at 2 a.m. or cook some food in the middle of the night because I woke up hungry?"

Carlos chuckled softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Especially that. I’ll be right there with you, heating up the stove or grabbing the controller. Whatever makes you happy, I’m in."

You felt your heart swell with his words, but there was still a small, nagging doubt that you couldn’t quite shake. "And what if I want to go to the beach at 6:30 in the morning to watch the sunrise? Or even go during the sunset to… you know…maybe have beach sex" You trailed off, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the idea you were about to suggest.

Carlos’s smile grew wider, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He gently pulled you closer by the waist, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Especially for that. Beach sex sounds like the perfect way to start or end the day."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and full of relief. "So, you’re really okay with all my crazy ideas?"

Carlos pulled back slightly, his expression turning serious as he cupped your face in his hands once more. "Y/N, I love everything about you. Your quirks, your spontaneity, the way you think about the little things that make life more fun. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. You make my life better in every way, and I want to be a part of all your crazy ideas. As long as we’re together, I’m happy."

His words wrapped around your heart, soothing every lingering fear and doubt that had been gnawing at you. The tears that had welled up earlier now flowed freely, but this time, they were tears of happiness, of gratitude, of love.

"I love you so much, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Carlos leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that spoke of all the love he had for you. His hands moved to your back, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t bear the thought of even an inch of space between you. You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment of intimacy.

"I love you too, Y/N," Carlos murmured, his voice low and full of sincerity. "More than you’ll ever know."

You smiled softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in months. "Thank you for standing up for me back there. I’ve never seen you like that before."

Carlos sighed, his expression darkening slightly as he remembered the confrontation with the reporter. "I’m sorry you had to hear that. I hate that people talk about you like that, as if you’re not the most important person in my life. I won’t let anyone disrespect you like that ever again."

You gently placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "It’s okay, Carlos. You don’t have to fight every battle for me. I’m stronger than I look."

Carlos chuckled, the sound deep and comforting. "I know you are, cariño. But I’ll still protect you whenever I can. That’s what a man does for the woman he loves."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings reflected in them. This was the man you had fallen in love with, the man who would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy. And in that moment, all your fears and insecurities seemed to fade away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment.

"Do you really mean it?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "When you said I’m your future wife?"

Carlos’s expression softened, and he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Yes, mi amor. I meant every word. I see a future with you, a life where we’re together, where we build something beautiful. I want to marry you, have a family with you, grow old with you. You’re it for me, Y/N."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you believe that everything he said was true. A tear slipped down your cheek, and Carlos quickly wiped it away with his thumb, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that," you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. "I’ve been so scared, Carlos. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I’m not enough for you."

Carlos shook his head, his eyes filled with love and determination. "No, cariño. You are more than enough. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and more. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner how my actions were making you feel. But I promise you, from now on, I’ll make sure you never have to doubt my love for you again."

You smiled through your tears, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "Thank you, Carlos. Thank you for loving me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Always, mi amor. Always."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he held you close. The doubts that had plagued you for so long seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of certainty that you hadn’t felt before. Carlos loved you, truly and deeply, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully believe it.

After a few moments of silence, Carlos pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "So, about that beach idea…"

You laughed, feeling a sense of lightness return to the conversation. "You really want to do that?"

Carlos grinned, his expression mischievous. "With you? Absolutely. I’m down for anything you want, cariño. Especially if it means spending more time with you."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you, Carlos."

He smiled against your lips, his hands gently caressing your back. "And I love you, Y/N. More than anything in this world."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @tellybearryyyy @magixpracticality @eoduuung @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @goldenroutledge

[irndad]

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair. 

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind. 

But he wanted her. 

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.  

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her. 

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life. 

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure. 

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question. 

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness. 

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility. 

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists. 

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his. 

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up. 

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way. 

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time. 

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.” 

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete. 

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers? 

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him. 

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy. 

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded. 

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please. 

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god. 

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again. 

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality. 

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does. 

Ben, is not in fact, going away. 

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore. 

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.  

But her cup says Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have. 

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison. 

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is. 

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.” 

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition. 

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess. 

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile. 

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit  into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp. 

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.” 

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his. 

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company. 

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it. 

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem. 

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben. 

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face. 

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights. 

Ironic, really. 

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself. 

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering. 

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for. 

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this. 

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.” 

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. 

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to. 

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from. 

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass. 

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time. 

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation. 

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot. 

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together. 

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting. 

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance? 

Wasn’t it romance, though? 

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror. 

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks. 

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry. 

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment. 

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire. 

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s 

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her. 

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion. 

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him. 

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness.  “There was never anyone else to pick.”