but deep down inside, there's always that fear, that im not enough, i seem cavalier
pairing: paternal!spencer agnew x daughter
summary: while reader is gone for a smosh trip spencer stays behind to watch iris. things don't exactly go according to plan
warnings: idek, no use of y/n
word count: 2.1k words
a/n: okay so... i watched a movie the other night and it was about a horribly pathetic man taking care of his daughter after his wife passed and obviously i couldn't kill reader so after consulting a very close friend ( aka @twilightmoon-13 ) i just had her leave for a couple days and go to the smosh boston live show. this was me ovulating and being desperate for... something
it was an unspoken agreement that while you were gone for the live reddit show in boston spencer would stay behind and watch iris. sure, maybe he was a little nervous, but having been a part of her bedtime routine more times than he could count on all his fingers and toes combined, he was confident in himself. the two of them were going to be fine.
pickup goes smooth, iris babbling the whole time with spencer throwing in the occasional 'no way', 'really', and 'you don't say' to encourage her to keep speaking. she happily does so. after a quick break once they walk through the door spencer gets working on dinner. it's something easy, something he knows iris likes, and she confirms such by eating every piece of what is offered to her and then asking for more. he doesn't let the moment go without taking a least a couple pictures that he will send you once iris is down for the night and he has some time alone. hopefully he remembers.
spencer, already done with his food, sits back and watches as iris's second helping slowly dwindles down until she stops eating all together. truly, he hoped she'd also eat all of that and then ask for more, the pot on the stove still halfway full because apparently he doesn't know how to cook for any less than three people anymore. whatever, he'll just put it in the fridge and save it for lunch tomorrow or something. you can have some if you get home early enough before it goes bad. and now the idea of you being over two-thousand miles away really hits him. but… he's been on so many trips for smosh these past few years. it was finally your turn. the fans definitely helped you agree to going. you'd never felt so much love from somewhere so far away. spencer wills the emotions away and focuses back on iris who has begun playing with the last few bits of remaining food.
spencer knew it was wishful thinking to try and get iris to bed without a bath tonight. she has a special talent for unknowingly derailing plans. spencer can't get too mad at her, though, not with the way she looks up at him when he sighs, smile big and hands reaching towards him. instead he just breathes out a laugh and listens to her silent request. she seems very satisfied to now be in his grasp, more babbles escaping that bring a smile to his face. his gaze lingers on her highchair tray for a moment as he takes in the absolute massacre that has occurred there. the crime scene even extends to the space around her. that, he quickly decides, will be a problem for future spencer.
the bath is a quick one, really just used to get the smashed up food off of her and get her in the mood of going to bed. spencer even makes sure to to use that lavender baby wash you bought the other week after you saw somewhere that lavender calms babies. he doesn't entirely know how much he believes it, but you believe it, and that's enough for him to continue usage. plus, he'd be lying if he said that iris didn't seem much clingier after. he's not complaining, though.
just like pickup, dinner, and bath time, bed time goes surprisingly well. it's not that it's ever particularly hard, but iris doesn't even get to the bottom of her bottle before she's totally out and lightly snoring against spencer who continues to use the top of his foot to slowly push away from the floor, sending the rocking chair back slightly before coming forward again. he finally decides to put iris in her crib, which also goes great, then steps out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he can. now to the kitchen.
it barely takes him any time to get the rest of dinner into a tupperware container and into the fridge. it takes him just as long to get the table, iris's highchair, and the floor around it clean, opting to sweep up pretty much everything and dump it all in the garbage. he takes a second to clean the broom off, too, suddenly aware of how dirty the bristles are.
it's dark by the time he's satisfied.
with the moon up spencer fails to notice the large coverage of dark clouds that hang in the sky. he catches a very far away flash of lightning. but, again, it's far, and he didn't hear any thunder follow. maybe it'll be a nice break from the drought.
maybe he can take iris somewhere with water before you get back tomorrow.
he doesn't take his own shower, just changes into something for bed then climbs in, spending the next few minutes on his phone. he does remember to send those pictures to you, adding in a text after that he and iris can't wait to see you again but that the two of them are doing great and you have no reason to worry. he then sends a followup saying that you're probably not worried and he's just being weird. the final message of the night is an upside down smiley face.
spencer notes ten-forty-nine before clicking his phone off and putting it on the table beside him, right next to his glasses.
he falls asleep a moment later.
the first thing spencer notices when he wakes up is how ridiculously loud it is outside. the second thing he notices is the crying coming from the baby monitor on your bedside table. with a groan he sighs, making the quick trip to the nursery where iris is standing with tiny fists wrapped tight around the wood bar of the crib. she doesn't calm at the sight of spencer but she does reach out for him. spencer is pretty sure he feels his heart break in his chest.
"hey, hey," he tries, grabbing iris and bringing her to his chest. the crying continues. "it's okay, shh."
iris seems to calm. the screams turn to whimpers for a moment and spencer smiles against her temple. she sniffles. and then, all at once, a flash of lighting and a crack of thunder hit outside. suddenly spencer understands. how he's going to fix it, though, he has next to no idea. the crying is back louder than before and instead of just a suspected break spencer is certain his heart shatters.
what's he going to do?
"iris, hey, it's okay. hey, hey, shh, it's okay."
it's no use. despite the hand that he rubs comfortingly up and down her back and the way he sways back and forth, trying to mimic what he's watched you do while comforting her, clearly, he's not as good at it as you are.
reluctantly, they continue like that for the next while. spencer keeps trying out different words and gestures of comfort only for him to quickly realize that the universe hates him tonight and is seemingly (purposefully?) sending lightnings or thunder, sometimes both, just as he gets iris somewhat settled. at a certain point, he can't remember now, he left the nursery in search of a larger area to pace, which ended up being the entire downstairs, hoping that that was the key to fixing it all.
he was heavily mistaken.
while the crying hasn't gotten worse, it also hasn't gotten any better. iris continues to squirm but spencer keeps a tight grip on her, which seems to make her even more upset. she won't drink any of the milk spencer bottled for her and his voice is much too harsh to try any of the songs you normally calm her with.
he did manage to grab his phone before descending the stairs. but when he finally decides that he's exhausted all of his options and opens his messages he finds the ones he'd sent you still unseen. the first picture is now directly underneath a bolded 'yesterday' with the standard '10:34' just to the right. it's now that he checks the time.
3:17.
the storm is still raging outside and it's three-seventeen in the morning.
iris hasn't been crying the whole time, and spencer knows that, but he also knows that he can't recall when the last time she wasn't was. drained, mentally and physically, spencer makes what is possibly the stupidest decision of the night and and falls onto the couch. iris continues as she's been, now rubbing her face against his shirt and successfully leaving behind both tears and mucus when she pulls away. spencer doesn't care. really, he doesn't even notice as all of his attention goes to wiping the tears and mucus off of her face with the bottom of the same shirt. he brushes her hair away with the other hand at the same time.
"it's still okay." he's whispering this time, unsure if she can even hear him over the crying. "i know the noises and the lights are scary, but i promise that i won't let them hurt you. i won't let anything hurt you. okay?"
and then… something different happens. instead of continuing to cry, iris swallows, whines, and falls forward onto spencer's chest. reluctantly, and now aware of the mess, he lifts her head to slide a blanket under. she barely stirs, if at all, and simply continues breathing, deep, slow, the kind right before someone falls asleep. spencer leaves a kiss on the top of her head which is how he stays for the next while, eyes looking at something in front of him but not focusing on it. one hand still rubs up and down on her back, needing something to do to keep him busy. because he's pretty sure he's close to totally losing it.
and just like he suspected, he sniffles himself and uses the hand that is not on iris's back to wipe his own tear away.
"i'm sorry." the words are barely audible against the crown of iris's head, but he continues nonetheless. "i'm sorry that i'm not as good at this as your mom. i'm sorry that she trusted me to keep an eye on you without a second thought; you deserve better than that. and i'm sorry for… for letting your mom go through everything she did. i should've done more. but…" he laughs wetly. "at least we have you. we got something pretty good out of all that bad, huh…" he leaves another kiss on her forehead. "goodnight, iris."
when spencer wakes up he blinks a few times. iris is still under his hand, safe, and you're still not home. he clicks his phone on to see '9:13' at the top, notifications from you just underneath. when he opens them he finds that you have both liked and replied to everything he sent you, and then some. at six-nineteen you sent that everyone was getting on the plane, then almost exactly one hour later sent a picture from your window seat. eight-forty-two was all of you getting off. spencer begins to respond when the front door opens. he chuckles slightly, throwing his phone back down on the couch. you set all your stuff down at the door and, hoping to not disturb iris in case she's still asleep, head to the kitchen. airport coffee is okay, but nowhere near comparable to yours. but, you find an unexpected scene.
"spence?"
he looks over to you, smiling. "hey." you being to speak when he brings a finger to his mouth. "she's out."
you nod, significantly lowering the volume at which you ask the question. "what are you guys doing down here?"
spencer sighs. "it's a long story."
you smile and continue towards the coffee maker as quiet as you can, getting down enough for the two of you. "let me get through half of this, and then i'm all ears." he doesn't respond. "spence?"
and when you look, he's out, too. his head is back and there's an obvious snore, but his hands still don't leave iris. the one that was on her back when you came in is still there except now the one that was brought to his mouth cradles her head.
before truly beginning on the coffee you walk over and grab the rest of the blanket the separates spencer's shirt and iris's head, making sure that it covers all of them. then you leave a kiss on iris's temple. the one on spencer's lips lasts a little longer. just a little.
there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this
pairing: platonic!ellen agnew x reader, spencer agnew x girl mom! reader
summary: during filming for parents week spencer rushes out to pick up iris. reader is left to explain the past five months to ellen
warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, no proof-read, ellen agnew world's best grandma
word count: 3.8k words
a/n: omg im back !!!!! it took me a little over a week to finish this after my last post, but i have been working on this for a while in my notebook and loved where it ended, but then i had to physically copy everything into ellipsus which i finished last night at like two in the morning with my liked playlist on shuffle. also, i got a new pumpkin candle, and the smell has clung to me and followed me to work so i am SO ready for halloween. might have to work on some fall/halloween fics next...
parents week is going great. well, filming for parents week. so far all the invited parents have been hilarious additions that everyone is super excited for the audience to see, especially sofy. if you had to guess, based on the way arasha's been talking about it for the past few days, today's games video is going to be everyone's favorite as they trickle out. but, unfortunately, you're not going to get the chance to watch the filming; too many emails to draft asking if filming locations are available. and if the audience is still the same as last year, the teaser and subsequent reveal is going to blow up. social even noted that tumblr was going crazy. you hadn't heard about tumblr since 2016.
it's about halfway through the email list that you hear quick, heavy footsteps that grow louder and louder as they get closer. before you can look up spencer is next to you, panicked, out of breath, hands resting on top of your desk.
"hey," he finally gets out with a rushed shallow breath, "do you have your phone on you?"
it takes you a moment to digest the question, but when you finally do your hands waste no time in checking your back pockets, front pockets, even your bra for the familiar outline. you exhale a sigh when you finally find it under a pile of papers to the right of you. it's presented to spencer triumphantly who sighs himself, but not out of relief. you absentmindedly furrow your brows at him.
"did you hear it ring?"
you click it on to show a host of missed calls, some of the numbers saved, the rest unknown. "fuck, i forgot to take it off silent after helping with a main video. is everything okay?"
spencer breathes deep. "iris's daycare called me; i guess something happened with her and another kid. they said they tried to call you like five times but obviously you never picked up."
suddenly the panic from thinking you had lost your phone comes back tenfold. you're eyes go wide and immediately you're grabbing everything off of your desk, even things that stay in the office. "shit, i am so sorry! i am leaving right now and i will call to apologize. shit!"
but before you can fully stand spencer plants a firm hand on your shoulder. you look him in the eye. "it's okay. i told them i would come get her."
"are you sure?"
"of course. but… that does leave a slight problem for us here."
you feel your head adjust backwards. "what?"
and you don't think you've ever seen spencer like this. his shoulders are tense, his eyes refuse to meet you, his face stays completely blank despite the fact that you know he's got a million things running through his mind. his mouth hangs open like he wants to say something but can't decide on the correct words. until. "my mom."
you don't react. "your mom?"
"mhm."
"what about your mom?"
"well… i kinda left games without saying anything and she doesn't know why. no one does."
you don't entirely get the problem, and spencer's body language isn't exactly screaming 'ask me to elaborate'. but you don't have any other choice. "okay… you can't just text her? call her? i'm sure she'll understand. anders will, too."
"yeah. about that."
and you know. truthfully you knew the second he began side-stepping around your questions. but you wanted to give him the chance, give yourself the chance to be proven wrong and have him tell you something completely unexpected and unrelated to what bounces around in your head. but, again, you know exactly what it's going to be. how you react, though, that part's still up in the air. and you wish, the second the confession comes out, that it had stayed hidden longer.
"my mom doesn't know about iris." that alone was enough, but then. "she doesn't even really know about us."
"she-" silence follows. spencer spends the entirety of the moment looking like he wishes he could be anywhere else. like he knows he fucked up, but also knows that no matter how many apologies he throws at you it's not going to make it up. because, and this just clicked for you, he's going to be gone, and you're going to be at the office. only one of those places also currently holds his mother. and it's not his car. "spencer, let me get this straight. you want me to explain to your mother that not only are we dating and have been for almost five months, but that i also have a daughter who you have so kindly been raising with me for said past five moths? all in the time it takes you to drive to iris's daycare and bring her back here?"
he doesn't answer verbally. frankly, he doesn't answer at all. his head lowers slightly while an attempt at a smile curls his lips, the motion partially hidden by his beard. you don't make an effort to help him, you sit and wait. he notices.
"listen, i didn't do it on purpose; there was a lot going on, one thing led to another, and i never got the chance to tell her. it wasn't like i actively avoided saying anything. it just never came up."
you scoff at that, slightly amused. "oh, really?"
"really!" spencer pauses once the word leaves his mouth, suddenly hyper-aware of the volume he's speaking at. he leans closer. "really. we've barely spoken to each other recently. between iris's birthday, the beach trip, iris's stomach bug, will… the most i've texted her is just short replies so she's knows i'm reading her messages."
and that makes a lot more sense than you thought it was going to. than you wanted it to. you'd be lying if you said that every text you've received in the past few months got read and replied to in a reasonable time frame, except, of course, for spencer's. so you can't get mad at him without sounding like a huge hypocrite the whole time. and you want to be mad. but the more you think about it you have a hard time deciphering if you're actually mad at him, or just trying to find an outlet. maybe these emails haven't been as easy as you've been letting yourself believe.
you sigh.
"okay. you're right. it's been kinda hectic recently… just, go get iris and i will do my best to fill your mom in."
spencer smiles then leans closer, placing a kiss on your forehead that lingers long enough to send a chill down your spine.
"thank you, i love you. be back soon!"
and then he's gone. suddenly, now that you're completely alone, the reality of what you have to go do sets in. you sigh, put your phone, no longer on silent, in your back pocket, and try to prepare yourself for the lion's den you're about to walk into. but, at the same time, it's ellen agnew. your second mother and arms you ran into when your own mother was unavailable. yeah, you try you convince yourself, you're gonna be fine. you're gonna walk up to her, explain the situation, and be totally shocked by how well it goes. yeah, you've got this.
the feeling of four sets of eyes completely and totally focused on you is enough to have the breakfast in your stomach threaten a reappearance. arasha, sofy, ellen, and anders all sit at different points in the room but all similarly have their gazes fixed on you in the doorway, your shoulders slumped and fingers fidgeting in front of your stomach. they all wait for you to speak. you never do. instead you scan from left to right until you land on anders, who you have just decided is your best bet. he seems to catch the way your eyes loiter on him.
"what happened to spencer? he took a call then just said he had to leave."
silently, you thank anders for his breaking the silence and doing so specifically in your direction because now you don't have to drive yourself crazy thinking of an excuse as to why you ignore everyone else to close the space between you and anders. his eyes follow you the whole way until you're standing directly in front of him. there's barely half a foot between the two of you, but even still, you whisper.
"something happened with iris at daycare; he went to pick her up."
anders stares for a moment. "is everything okay?"
you're nodding instinctively. "yeah, yeah, she's fine! spencer just had to go get her."
he pauses for a moment longer. "okay, so why didn't he just tell us?"
and that's what you were worried about.
but you know, unfortunately, that you don't have many options besides an explanation. your eyes, between frantic blinks, glide away from anders until they land on ellen who scrolls on her phone. at least, that's what she want you to think. you catch the half-second glaces in your direction. you make the already minuscule space between you and anders even smaller.
"because…" you swallow, a final look towards ellen. "his mom doesn't know about iris. she doesn't even know about us."
you try not to let the way his mouth falls slightly agape and his eyes get big hit you too hard. it's not his fault you guys accidentally forgot to tell spencer's mom about the two of you. you open your mouth, already prepared to repeat 'i know' as many times as is needed. anders beats you to the first word.
"you two have been together since before i got here! i thought iris was spencer's until he corrected me! how does his own mom not know!"
you wince at the volume of his words, too loud for your comfort despite the fact that he, too, is whispering. your head shoots slightly forward. "i know! i know! i don't have an excuse, i just-… iris's daycare is only like twenty minutes away, it'll take him an hour with traffic, tops. i promised i would explain everything to ellen and i know, i know it's going to fuck up today's scheduling. i will email the directors for today, but please, don't get mad at spencer; i forgot to take my phone off silent so he was the daycare's only other option."
anders spends a moment with his eyes fixed to you before looking away. he runs a hand down his face. "i'll email them. you have enough on your plate as is trying to explain that to your boyfriend's mom. we'll wait for him."
before you can restrain yourself you fall forwards and wrap your arms around anders's neck. "thank you! i will find a way to make it up to you, i promise."
anders nods when the hug breaks then quickly moves back to his computer, no doubt beginning to draft apology emails. you, on the other hand, despite having typed out and sent many apology emails, have the much harder of the two conflicts to face. you try to search for any confidence that you might have stored away somewhere but come back with nothing. then, barely halfway to your destination, barely halfway into an opening statement, you hear your name.
arasha.
her eyes stay glued to you, asking a million questions without saying a single word. you take your phone back out of your pocket to find your last message exchange, resorting to physically typing it, too many other people and spam hiding her. and after the shortest time you've probably ever spent texting out a message, spelling and grammar mistakes inevitable, you hit send. arasha's own phone doesn't make a sound, but based on the way she leans forward, pulls it out of her back pocket, and clicks it on, her eyes going wide the deeper she gets into the words, she definitely got it. you don't stick around to see the rest of her reaction.
instead, you continue the walk that is much shorter than you had hoped, finding yourself in front of ellen much sooner than you would like, no progress having been made on your explanation. before you can improvise a greeting she clicks her phone off, sets it down next to her, and puts her full attention on you. sitting. waiting.
shit.
"hi, mrs. agnew."
"oh, please," she interjects with a waving hand between the two of you, "you've known me as long as spencer's been my son. ellen is fine."
and that helps some. that well-hidden confidence makes itself known, just slightly, and you nod. "okay, ellen." she smiles at that. "i came to talk to you about spencer."
"he's okay, right? i've never seen him take off like that."
"yeah, yeah! he's totally fine! but… he's gonna be about an hour."
"an hour? how come?"
"um…" you take a moment to scan the room, pretending to look for something to buy yourself more time. you figure that the lone chair a few yards away is as good an excuse as any. ellen waits quietly as you step away only to return a moment later, chair in hand. you place it down in front of her and take a seat. "do you remember when spencer and i were younger, and mr. agnew always asked us when we were just going to admit that we like each other even thought both of us swore over and over again that we were just friends?"
ellen breathes deep through her nose while slowly raising her head. "i do."
"well," you begin with an awkward smile, "we admitted it."
you don't know exactly what reaction you expected when the final word left your mouth, but whatever it was it's as far away as you can possibly get from what did happen. ellen's hands lift from her lap just a few inches with a slight jolt in your direction, no emotion on her face. but that doesn't last long. less than a second later a smile that you've seen a million times on spencer appears on her lips and her hands grab your, squeezing tight.
"really!"
you chuckle at the excitement that drips from the single word. "mhm. it's been just about five months."
"five months! you guys have been together for almost half a year and i had no idea?"
you breathe in through your mouth. "it's been a kinda crazy five months, ellen."
now, she doesn't respond. just waits for you.
you clear your throat.
"spencer and i aren't the only ones in the relationship."
and immediately you recognize that that maybe wasn't the best way to construct the iris reveal. especially after you notice how quickly the smile escapes her face and she pulls away from you. and you hope, pray, that she does so with the wrong explanation in mind. that she didn't immediately correctly guess what you are going to say and is now utterly disgusted by you for baby-trapping her son and making him take care of a child that isn't his. you already feel the words on the tip of your tongue about how he was there for both you and iris without you even asking him. all the times you flat-out told spencer to stop helping only for him to show up the next day because 'i wanted to make sure her colic was better'. and you know that she already knows how her son is, but for some reason you still find yourself coming up with ways to defend yourself.
"do you guys… have a third?"
you weren't expecting that. suddenly all the stress transforms into relief and even a little bit of humor. you find yourself laughing at the question and hoping that you're not too loud.
"no. no, no, no, there's only two romantically involved people in this relationship. the other person is my daughter."
"your-…"
oh no.
"you have a daughter? i'm a grandma?"
"not our daughter, just mine! i had her before spencer and i got together." might as well let her form her new opinion on you quickly.
"i reiterate; i'm a grandmother?"
tears sting your eyes faster than they ever have before. ellen agnew feels so connected to you that, as far as she's concerned, your daughter is her granddaughter. you give her a wet laugh.
"yeah. spencer had to go pick her up early from daycare so they should be back soon."
"i get to meet her today?" you nod with a smile. "oh this is amazing. what-what's she like? how old is she? what's her name?"
before answering a single question verbally you click your phone on and flip it around so she can see your lock screen, a picture of iris and spencer both asleep in bed, iris the little spoon against spencer's chest while spencer's arm stays fully wrapped around her, keeping her safe.
"oh my goodness! she's gorgeous. she looks just like you." ellen voices the sentiment with one hand hovering in front of her mouth, keeping it slightly covered. "i can't believe i had no idea."
"i'm really sorry about that. not many people outside of here did. but… she's just over a year old, her birthday was on march twenty-first, she has the cutest little personality, which i'm hoping she won't hide away too much when she first meets you; she's also a little too shy for her own good around new people, which she also got from me. she really… she's the sweetest little girl. you'll love her."
ellen listens to every word with a look on her face that you find nothing special in. but anyone who's been a parent as long as her would recognize it in an instant. admiration. reminiscing. thinking back on all her experiences as a mom and wishing that she could go back for all of them, even the ones where, in the moment, she thought 'i can't wait for this to be over'. she knows you'll get there one day. she can't wait.
at ellen's request the two of you spend the next forty-five minutes looking at picture after picture of iris, iris and you, iris and spencer, iris, you, and spencer. she even asks for some of just you which completely shocked you. you watch as every picture containing iris is immediately put into a folder that you also watched her create before the first photo could be out into a message draft. but she only does so after taking a moment with it.
you're beginning to send another when a door opens, more sound pouring in. and when the two of you look spencer's head is just poking in, scanning quickly until he finds you. you smile when you watch as a tiny hand comes into view with the goal of grabbing the brim of spencer's hat. the noise ellen makes has you pretty sure that she caught it, too. you wave him in. he obliges. then, without a word, arasha and sofy stand out of their chairs and start towards the door that spencer is still holding open with his free hand. anders follows with a smile in your direction. you swear you catch a wink, too.
spencer wastes no time crossing the room then standing just next to the two of you. he looks towards his mom.
"ellen," you begin with a smile, "this is iris." ellen's hands come up to her mouth as she looks between iris and you. you are absolutely sure you see tears in her eyes. "did you wanna hold her?"
ellen gasps. "please."
spencer, without wasting a second, readjusts iris to allow for an easy pass to ellen. she happily grabs the little girl, setting her on her lap. iris smiles towards ellen who can't help but return the gesture. spencer steps closer to you to allow for his hand to come to the back of your head so he can lean down and connect his lips to yours. you catch ellen's gaze as it remains on the two of you for a moment.
"spencer. you girlfriend told me about the two of you, and that i have a granddaughter. i can't believe i had to hear it from her and not my own son. care to explain?"
spencer breathes deep while standing a little straighter. he chuckles nervously.
"a lot's happened; i didn't want to tell you over the phone and i could never find the time to sit down and tell you. but i promise i wanted to."
ellen takes a slow blink while looking back to iris. you chuckle with a hand on spencer's arm. he leans into it.
for the next few minutes the four of you continue like that. until, unfortunately, they begin filming before any of you are ready, where you then leave the room for the duration. 'dead space' is much too scary and spencer is much too vulgar during filming for iris to sit in on it. but when they wrap ellen wastes no time finding the two of you and taking iris until they're needed for the next video.
iris happily goes to her every time. and at the end of shooting of the day, the remaining cast and crew crowded in the space just away from the exit, the little girl falls asleep on her shoulder. you don't think you've ever seen ellen fall into a title so fast and seamlessly.
the time to go home rolls around much faster than any of you would like. spencer takes iris from his mom, the youngest of the three squirming but quickly calming and letting her head fall against spencer. ellen, much like you, can't take her eyes off the scene.
"it's been so nice seeing you again," you whisper with closed eyes as the two of you hug. "and i'm so sorry it took this long to tell you about us, and about iris. you deserved to know so much sooner."
ellen shakes her head against the embrace. "stop apologizing. i'm sure you guys had a good reason, maybe even a few. and even if you didn't, it's okay. it's more than okay. being a parent is hard, let alone for the first time." you sniffle as a tear runs down your cheek. "but, when the next one comes around, i would just like to know about them before their first birthday. okay?"
you chuckle wetly. "okay."
"good. i love you." she breaks the hug so she can see spencer and iris. "i love all of you."
and after a quick hug with spencer, a kiss to his forehead, and a kiss on the back of iris's head, she's gone.
spencer, backpack hanging off his free arm, wraps said arm around you so you can walk to the door together. he leaves a kiss on your temple.
"thank you."
you turn your head to look at him. "for what?"
"for doing what i should've done a long time ago."
you smile, a laugh escaping your nose. "any time."
Summary: After texting one of your directors a soft nude during a night of weakness, things have been tense. The mentioned director, Spencer Agnew, has left you on read. You go out to forget, but the universe never lets things go to plan.
Word Count: 9.1k
CW: Marijuana Edibles, Alcohol, Crossfaded Reader, Vomiting, Description of Panic Attack, Quick mention of Non-Consensual Groping, Cigarettes, Age Difference (9 Years), Miscommunication Trope, RPF Smut (Oral only)
Other Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Coworkers to Lovers, Boss/Employee Relationship, Love Confessions, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, AFAB Female Reader-Insert
AN: My first fic ever, and a gift to @cherrybdis on AO3! They wrote the cutest fluffy Spencer oneshot here. If you want to read this on AO3, it's available here! This is lightly inspired by the Prelow song 'Mistakes Like This' and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it instead of my english practice exams.
Tears are welling up in your eyes whilst Angela rubs your back on the floor of a cubicle in the Smosh studio bathroom. She’s holding a grimace concocted from a mixture of ‘I’m so sorry’ and ‘babe, you are seriously fucked’.
On your way to work—actually, maybe since you’ve gained consciousness this morning—your heart was pounding. You were desperately hanging on to the thread of hope that today would be one of those days where beloved Spencer Agnew would mysteriously disappear from the main studio areas to one of his so-called ‘grind sessions’. You couldn’t face him. You had dastardly spots on your hands that were so vibrantly red... you were sure the general public on your walk to work could see your figurative Macbeth villainy as if it were literal.
But karma is not nice, not even to the ones who pray.
It's like subconsciously you knew the answer to your prayers, because your stomach did an ugly flip before even opening the door.
Things moved in slow-motion, an experience you thought people exaggerated for dramatics. The door to the studio opened sickeningly slow despite your strong pull, and with your head down low you catch a pair of Timbs in the doorway. Your eyes drag up the figure for what felt like a decade, and you felt your acids slosh inside you whilst they worked their way upwards. You tried to quickly step aside to let the brunette through, but it felt dreadfully tardy. Spencer looked up from his phone, his unoccupied hand halfway up as if to push the door that was unexpectedly opened before him. He took a step through the doorway and sent a blink your way that could have been taken from a mascara commercial and the only thing that felt quick during that entire interaction was the way he turned his head away and muttered a quick ‘thank you, man’ before continuing to scroll on his phone.
Angela was the one to pick up on the urgency in your steps and unnerving glisten in your eyes as you speed-walked passed her desk to the bathrooms.
“I am the world's biggest dunce, Ange,” your words are muffled by your sleeves as you aggressively rub your face, “I’ve never felt more embarrassed in my life, and part of our literal jobs is to do embarrassing shit. Not to mention I’m a whole NINE years his junior.”
You hear the sound of hissing from your counterpart.
“Yeah, look, I’m not gonna lieee...” you peak through your fingers, eyes full of despair, and she decides not to continue.
“Come on. Spencer is a great guy! I could never see him in a million bajillion years having some sort of weird thing against you over one drunk nude! AND it wasn’t even full bush or nip. I feel like I could send him my bush and he’d still bring me a coffee in the morning. I dunno, girl, he’s really understanding.”
Part of you believes her comfort. It’s just that nagging tug in your heart for this overall dismissiveness coming from a guy who is generally so direct. Your crush on him largely stemmed from his ever-present kindness that always precedes his crude jokes. But you don’t feel that warmth right now, and you're thinking it's all your fault.
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
You’re leaning on the brick of your apartment building, not ready to face the silence of your flat knowing your roommate was visiting family. The 7:30 pm California air nibbles your cheek, and you dig your face into the collar of your jacket. You’re smoking a cig. You usually wouldn’t these days, as life after joining Smosh has been really great. You’re burning holes into your phone with your stare, analysing the photo you drunkenly sent last night.
The lighting was dark, only slightly lit by a corner lamp and candles. You’re laying down on your unmade bed, with the t-shirt you were wearing pulled up to bunch up underneath your chin. Your bra and panties were matching in brown (one of Spencer’s favourite colours, which you sinfully thought about when buying new lingerie) and were both adorned with lace and a dangly heart pendant. The photo doesn't include your full face, just cutting right above your lips that are slightly pouted and red from wine. You honestly liked the photo. You thought it was hot. Apparently, Spencer did not.
You didn’t see Spencer for the rest of the day after your puke-sesh, which is most definitely a good thing, but you still felt a little empty. It’s only been a day of this weird energy between you two, but it feels like weeks since you last spoke.
You missed him, and badly. You’ve only been at Smosh for just over 2 years but during that time you two became a quick duo. You’re incredibly worried that this may be the end of what was becoming a bestfriendship. You missed joking around with him and the way he would laugh at all your jokes even if they sucked. You missed when he would say a reference no one heard except you and how he would catch your laugh and send a shy smile as if to say ‘hey, thanks for listening’. You missed when you didn’t understand a game on Board AF and he would manage to help you without embarrassing you on camera. He didn’t even heart react to your Slack message today like he usually would.
Your eyes linger on the little piece of text under your picture. ‘Read 1:03am’.
You hold back a tear. You seriously messed things up. Spencer was the first guy you felt like saw through you to the bone, without needing to take your clothes off. After years of an awful dating history and finally meeting a soul so genuine and attractive, it was as if you were a teenager with a crush again. You stub out your cigarette on the bricks behind you and can it as you walk into your apartment.
It’s Friday, so it’s socially acceptable to go out drinking at your age. Majority of the Smosh cast and crew decided to have drinks together at one of the nicer bars nearby to celebrate a particularly smooth shoot week, but you declined the offer knowing Spencer would most likely join them. Angela sent you an understanding pout as you left the Smoffice, and about 4 text messages wishing you well and saying she’s there if you want to talk. You were going to dress up reeaall nice and bag a good-enough guy to make you forget about your shitty mistakes.
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
In the middle of small talk with your Uber, your phone buzzes with notifications from Shayne. Unusual, as he’s mentioned he doesn’t like to drunkenly text. It’s a bunch of blurry selfies where you can only make out himself, Courtney, Angela, and Olivia, with a tall dark figure in the back who you guess is Amanda. The series of photos are unflattering to say the least, their faces lit up pure white by the flash against the blue and purple background of the bar. The 3 texts after the barrage of photos read:
so mcuh fun rn but we all mss u spnecr missd u so mch he left early #loserrrr
jkjk
tht was js a joke btw im jk
Your heart pangs bittersweetly at Shayne’s joke of Spencer missing you. You raise an eyebrow at his overuse of ‘jk’, ultimately pinning this strange behaviour to his intoxicated state and rolling your eyes as you reply:
miss you all more! glad to see u guys are having so much fun xxx be safe ok :p
Shayne reads it, his speech bubbles appearing and disappearing and eventually leaving you on read, probably distracted by another round of drinks or a good song. You don’t blame him but let out a small sigh as you question why everyone’s decided to leave you on read recently.
You thank your Uber kindly, shutting the door behind you as you begin to approach the small line-up to the club you always choose. It’s on the quainter side and a bit of a hole-in-the-wall but it’s always been your favourite since moving to LA, they always play good music. The bouncer sees you and ushers you in with a wink and a polite ‘how are you?’, you don’t know if you should be happy that you’re recognised as a regular or concerned at your alcoholism.
The atmosphere engulfs you, eliciting a pit of euphoria to build in your stomach. Orange, purple, and hot pink lights flicker across your body and reflect off your jewelry. You feel your pregame shots really hit as you melt into the environment.
You move towards everyone dancing, drinking, and flaunting like there’s no need for a tomorrow. You decide you just want to enjoy being a speck in the crowd before you grab a drink, letting the sweaty flesh and polyester club outfits rub up on you as everyone moves to the beat of the niche DJ set. Somewhere amongst it all someone offers you a compliment followed by a gummy and, against usual judgements of strange people and strange gummies, you take it. You’ll take being crossfaded over feeling heartbroken.
With that thought, an image of Spencer flashes across your mind. His green eyes are clear in your imagination. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head to try to get rid of the thought of him. His curly brown hair. His recent haircut into a subtle mullet was one of many catalysts that caused you to fold last night. And that goddamn tongue. You remember blushing at a fan-edit of your intense stare directed at his peeking tongue as he focused in a Games video. Images flash across your mind with no sign of halting.
You audibly groan, opening your eyes as you decide you’re obviously not drunk enough, and that gummy isn’t going to kick in for at least another 30 minutes.
You make your way to the round island bar and your heartbeat spikes at the sight of brunette curly hair, despite knowing it’s not your curly haired boy. Of slightly taller stature, he’s sat at the bar by himself chatting to the bartender. It’s evil, but maybe a hookup with a lookalike will snap you back to normal for a little while.
“Hey,” you yell slightly due to the deep bass, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing alone in a place like this?”
You’re holding back a smirk as his attention turns to you and laughs at your jest, sizing you up a little. Success!
“I could ask you the same, ‘pretty thing’.” He flirted. Super success!
You slide into the seat next to him, chatting him up. He buys two rounds of shots. You’ve realised in your past endeavors that most guys can’t really tell that your flirting is a little empty, and that you’re heart belongs to another guy. Or maybe they can, but it doesn’t matter because they’re talking to you for the same reason you’re talking to them.
At this point, you’re feeling the overlap of drunk and high, itching to get back to the dance floor. You nudge him with your elbow, “Hey! We should go dance!”
“Oh jeez, I’m really not too much of a dancer. You have to make me pretty drunk.” He ends his sentence with a laugh as you pout at him.
You motion him to come closer to whisper something in his ear. His eyes widen and he shakes his head and laughs, “Okay, okay. You’ve backed me into a corner. Let me break the seal first and I’ll be dance-floor-ready, sound good?”
You nod ditzily as he leaves for the bathroom.
You watch his back for a second before turning around to order the Friday night special cocktail, then, for the second time today, things began to slow. The club seemed to drown out around you. Midst waving down the bartender you look directly across the island bar and see him.
The difference between the bass and your heartbeat was indistinguishable. He’s looking wide-eyed straight at you through crooked glasses, his drink about to slip from his hand and his mouth slightly ajar. You’re not in control of your face in this moment but you assume you probably look similar. Heat is crawling up your neck, blood rushing to your face. Your chest starts to feel heavy.
He looks absolutely incredible, and despite your shock and horror your intoxication helps it go straight to your lower regions. His hair is messy, his lips and cheeks particularly pink, and his glasses askew. Despite this, the aforementioned shock and horror remain strong as your thoughts circle back to: ‘What the fuck?’
You mentally facepalm. You recall a small memory from a work event. Tipsy from the spiked punch, Spencer and you sat on a large beanbag, an awkward distance away from each other just absentmindedly chatting. Everyone was tired from a rough shoot week, making the energy hang in a lull. You mentioned how this particular event was lackluster and how you don’t really love alcohol unless you’re alone or at your favourite club.
You fucking told him! Your secret hole-in-the-wall club, and you told him. He often has that effect on you that makes you spill secrets. He replied to you saying you should show him it one night. You blushed.
It doesn’t matter anymore. You begin to feel a cold nausea as the club surrounds you once again. Your eyes linger on him as your body begins to turn on instinct, an alarm goes off in your brain, ‘OUT, OUT, OUT!’
The DJ’s timing is supposedly impeccable. A sensual song plays through the woofers accompanied with spotlights that light up the room red and fade to darkness in time to match the rhythm. This lighting paired with the slow movements of the packed crowd and your crossfade makes this small LA club you once knew like the back of your hand into a labyrinth you were dropped into for the very first time.
You shouldn’t have taken that gummy, but at the same time how could you have foreseen such an unforeseen circumstance?
The exit seems to be getting further away. You shuffle through the crowd as fast and as mightily as you can, but you feel so sluggish. Anxieties continue to multiply as you picture Spencer chasing after you. The multitudes of different fabrics, jewelry, and slick skin you squeeze against feels like poison, and it feels like the deep heat that radiates in the midst of the crowd avoids you completely as your skin runs cold and your short breaths fill your lungs with ice.
Someone cops a feel of your breast, another pinches your thigh, another yells ‘where’re you going?’, you want to scream, but you can’t. Your head, your legs, and your arms start to tingle in a pins-and-needles fashion. The cold air in your lungs start to become unbearable, something builds inside you like a soda about to volcano out of a bottleneck.
You can’t do this. Why are you doing this? Is this better than whatever could have happened if you stayed? You can’t do this. You really can’t. The music is so loud, you can barely see anything half the time, your goosebumps are so intense they start to hurt, you can only think of Spencer despite it all, you can’t tell if you’re crying, you’re almost definitely going to puke all over this crowd of peop-
Before you know it, the air is still.
The streets outside are still semi-occupied with late-night dog-walkers and passing taxis. The streetlights and nearby delis and corner stores illuminate the street a delicate orange hue. A passing relief washes over your overstimulated body before your shivering snaps you back to the reality of the situation. Your heels click as you speed walk while pulling out your phone from your purse to call an Uber. Adding to your current horror, it’s fully dead. You keep walking. The lack of safety in your predicament doesn’t hit you properly as your crossfade and adrenaline has persisted on.
About a block from the club your knees start to buckle from the numbness in your legs. You hear quick footsteps behind you but can’t react before falling to the ground.
It’s Spencer who calls your name, dropping to his knees and trying to pull you into a sitting position. You clutch your chest in an attempt to calm your insane heart, before turning away and absolutely annihilating the sidewalk in front of a corner store with puke.
Spencer winces. He lays a gentle hand to push back your hairline and another holding the length of your hair in a hand-ponytail.
“Holy shit,” He mutters your name under his breath in a way that would have made you blush if you weren’t messed up, “are you fucking good?”
Despite his crude language, it doesn’t hit in an offensive way. Spencer makes it sound incredibly endearing and sincere. You urge yourself to respond. Instead, you just vomit again.
After a couple beats of you just hunched over in silence on the concrete (save for your feral breathing) Spencer tucks your hair behind your ears and begins rubbing your back. You begin to tear up. This is now officially the second time of the day you are hunched over vomiting and crying while a coworker rubs your back. You scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Hey… Hey come on. Please don’t cry. My apartment is only less than a 10-minute walk away. We’ll get up whenever you’re ready, okay? Are you okay? Sorry… Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” He rambles. He’s watching you intently.
“I’m so sorry, Spence.” You manage out. Tilting your head towards him you can only slightly make out his face through your hair that dropped back into the front of your face. He looks shocked that you spoke.
“There’s nothing you should be sorry for.” He replies.
It takes energy to reply and say everything you need to say, energy which you do not have. You instead opt to slump your head back down. You glance at your dead phone sitting in your lap and catch a reflection of your makeup running down your face and wince at how helpless you’re being and begin attempting to get up. Key word is attempting. Spencer says a hushed curse under his breath at your movement.
“Woah, woah! Slow down, let me help you dude,” He scoops his hands underneath your armpits to stabilize you as he helps pull you off the concrete, “you’re going to hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”
He leans you against the wall of the corner store building, one hand now holding yours and his other gripping your hip. You take a sharp breath and for the first time tonight it’s not because of panic pooling in your stomach but a flustered nervousness. For the first time tonight you make proper, maintained eye-contact. Spencer scans your face for sign of hurt like you’re a fragile, priceless painting and you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. You can’t make it out fully under the lighting, but you swear his cheeks pink at your dazed and unbreaking stare.
“Are… Are you okay to walk? I can call an Uber-” You shake your head no, breaking eye contact with him and muttering something about puking in an Uber.
In your peripheral you see him tighten his lips and nod. At the same time, you feel his thumb absentmindedly rub the back of your hand. You feel an awkward tension, so you painstakingly pull away your hand from his gentle touch. You allow his other hand to linger on your back as he begins to guide you to his apartment due to the sensible realisation that you may buckle down again.
No words were exchanged until about halfway through the walk (which was more of a 15-minute walk because of your pace). You spent the quiet trying to recollect your thoughts and sobriety and you find yourself only being able to focus on one thought at a time, quickly forgetting or half-remembering the last thought you just processed.
“…My purse…” You mumble, as the thought passes your mind. Spencer’s head jolts towards you, surprised at your sudden speech whilst also trying to keep you steady through his hand on your back.
“What? Oh. No, don’t worry, I have it right here,” he adjusts his torso so you can see your cute purse hung on his shoulder and nicely tucked under his arm, “see?”
Theres a moment. Then you laugh, just a little.
He laughs too, “What?? Why are we laughing? Don’t I look good?”
He’s grinning sincerely, not trying to hide his excitement at some inkling of a positive mood shift. You drop your head, shaking it slightly but not saying more. Then, with a shiver ripping through you, another thought.
“It’s cold.”
Spencer immediately halts.
“Holy shit bro, I’m so stupid,” He’s taking off- well. More like ripping off his jacket with such a speed never seen, “I should have given this to you ages ago. Chivalry is dead.”
He gently lifts your arms to loop them through the holes of his signature denim jacket. Assuming you don’t currently have the dexterity to do it yourself, he moves to the front of you and snaps a couple of the buttons up for you. You can’t help but stare at him intently whilst he focuses on the jacket buttons, soaking in his scent and his radiant warmth. Your eyes follow the tongue peeking out his lips. It’s terribly bittersweet as one particular thought has lingered behind the rest.
The nude.
If your mind had the ability to race right now, it would be like Formula 1. Instead, with majority of your processing skills out-of-order, you find yourself softly slumping into Spencer’s chest whilst you were subconsciously chasing his warmth and unique scent, a scent of fresh linen and something unplaceable like his stupid pheromones or something.
Spencer’s arms instinctively went up around you thinking you were mid-fall. His body turns stiff at the sight of you just leaning there.
He whispers, “…You okay?”
You nod against his chest. Feeling his heartbeat through his shirt you’re soothed by the fast rhythm, but you peel yourself away with the thought you don’t deserve such an intimate touch. You mutter an apology under your breath whilst rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.
The walk continues and so does the silence. Your arms are wrapped around yourself, and your face is buried in the collar of Spencer’s denim. One reason being your nose turning pink from the cold and the other being your cheeks turning pink from the chivalrous gesture of Spencer lending you his jacket with less than zero hesitation. You were expecting to be dancing and drinking the cold off in a sea of warm strangers, so you disregarded your own jacket. You supposed it was worth it for this moment but deep down you felt guilty. You were taking advantage of his kindness and forcing him to take care of you in your vulnerable and ugly state after you just sent him an unsolicited picture he clearly held distaste for you over.
“The entrance to my place is just around this corner,” Spencer breaks you out of your train of thought, pointing at the corner about 50 meters away, “are you hungry? Alcohol makes me crave Homestate.”
“I thought just existing made you crave HomeState.” Spencer looks at you blankly in surprise then proceeds to let out a hard laugh.
You look at him while he throws his head back in laughter and smile a little. For a moment you feel like everything is back to the way things were. As he begins to stop his giggle-fit your stomach lets out a rumbling growl which causes him to look at you again and continues cheesing while he grabs his phone to order food.
“I’ll take that as a yes then!”
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
Bouncing in your ears and piercing through your migraine is the jingle of Spencer’s keys as he unlocks his front door. You squeeze your eyes shut, but dare not make as much as a grunt to not inconvenience him further. If you had it your way you would be booking it out of here.
A satisfying click brings you to open them again, watching as Spencer opens his door wide and looking at you expectantly with a soft smile. Despite your shivering, his face warms a deep part inside you.
“I already ordered food for us. I know it’s hard for you to talk right now, so I tried to remember your order as best as I could,” he locks the door behind you as you walk in and look around his apartment, “I was thinking you should sit on the couch and rest while I set up a bath for you. Does that, like, sound okay?”
He’s just observing you with one hand scratching the back of his neck as you stand still taking in his apartment. You take note of all the interesting lamps, plants, and framed posters. His furniture wasn’t bright or cold, but all assorted earthy colours. You finally look at him.
“You don’t have to do that.” You replied, voice just above a whisper from the embarrassment you felt creeping up your neck due to being coddled. Spencer furrows his brows.
“I know, dude. It’s okay. I want to. Frankly, as nice as you look, I’m not going to just let you stay like this.”
It’s like your heart burst into flames. You decided to just accept your fate, nod quickly, and shuffle over to his nice green couch. ‘As nice as you look’? You tighten the jacket around you, quelling your heartburn. Spencer disappears and comes back with a bundle of blankets, draping them around you. You stare at him, taking note of his focused face that he’s adorned every time he’s tended to you. You noticed a tinge of something out of place in it every time. Something in the furrow of his brow and his avoidance of eye contact whispers to you that he’s avoiding something, and you think you know what.
“Okay, I’ll be 5 minutes. The remote is just there on the coffee table if you wanted to, you know, browse.” He remarks, voice fading as he heads down the hallway.
You can hear him rustling about and some water running but your object permanence is not the greatest at the moment and you feel a cold plunge of loneliness and dread wash over. You can’t seem to overcome the barrier in your head preventing you from moving and grabbing the remote. You sink into the couch.
When Spencer comes back you are in the exact same position as before. At first he quirks an eyebrow, but it quickly turns into an empathetic gaze. You decide you can’t risk moving independently at this point and uprooting the comfort that has settled into your bones. You don’t even really pull your eyes away from the remote on the coffee table. He helps a begrudging you up off the couch to chauffer you to his bathroom.
You’re kind of in a state of awe as you stand in the doorway to his bathroom. A neat stack of Spencer’s clothes is stacked on the vanity with a still-packaged purple toothbrush and a mini toothpaste sat on top, bubbles tower upon the hot water in the bathtub, and there’s 5 scattered candles all of which smell of vanilla.
“I thought you should brush your teeth as soon as possible since you did puke a bit…” He softly says, rubbing the nape of his neck again—a nervous tick.
He observes you just standing there in his jacket, eyes drowsy and wandering, arms closely hugging yourself, bottom lip between your teeth as you shift your weight from foot to foot. Even though you are now in the safety and warmth of Spencer’s apartment, you still move like prey. He sighs, not out of annoyance, but out of hurt in his heart seeing his friend like this.
“Hey. Here,” He closes the toilet seat and puts an old towel over top, “sit down.” He faintly orders. You follow as he says, a bit confused.
Spencer begins unwrapping the toothbrush and applying toothpaste. What? You’re slightly confused until he runs it under the tap, bends slightly over you, and brings it to your mouth. He hums expectantly, signalling you to open your mouth. You look at him from below, shocked and a bit resistant. He whispers reassurances and that’s all it really takes for you to do whatever he wants. You open wide.
Spencer is surprisingly gentle, brushing your teeth intently and making sure no toothpaste drips from your mouth. He takes your chin into his fingers. Your stomach feels heavy like you just swallowed a jawbreaker. You’ve never been so embarrassed and turned on at the same time. To be fair, Spencer has never been this close to your face; it’s almost impossible for your eyes to escape him.
You scan over his skin, taking note of the little faint scars on his cheekbone where his moles used to be. You memorise his eyes, especially how in the candlelight they look so green—unlike in the Smosh lighting, where they’re so pale they look almost grey. Your heart swooned at how his glasses perfectly framed his face. You lean into his hand still on your chin and reach a tentative hand up, pushing the spectacles back up his nose with one finger. Spencer’s movements still as he meets your eyes before coughing, thanking you, and finishing up his dentistry act.
He helped you stand to the sink for you to spit, holding your upper arm. To your dismay, he takes a step back.
“Okay, um, I’m gonna be in the living room so you call out if you need me and I’ll be here before you can even finish saying ‘Spencer.’”
Your body instinctually grabs Spencer’s wrist as he turns to leave. His mouth is slightly agape as you both stand there waiting for something to come out of your mouth.
“I… I don’t think I want… that I want to be alone at all,” Your hand falls to your side as you fidget with your dress, “can you just stay?”
Spencer takes a sharp breath, not replying immediately.
“Like, not in a weird way, obviously. I just want you here, you can face away from the tub and stuff-”
“Yeah, yeah, of course I can do that. I am at your beck and call. Full service.” He lets out a breathy laugh.
You smile at him a little toothily and something in his eyes soften at the sight. He turns around while you slip out of his jacket and your garments, tossing them to be with the rest of Spencer’s dirty laundry, and you try your hardest to get in the bath without slipping and dying. You sink into the bubbles. Spencer, still turned away, sits down on the tiles of the bathroom and scoots his way backwards so he sits resting on the bathtub. He hears you giggle at his movements and he smiles to himself.
“What? Can’t a man scoot?” You laugh a bit more, and he drops his head to hide his smile that you already couldn’t see.
For a good amount of time, you both were sat there without a word. You played with bubbles. He scooped dirt from underneath his fingernails. The warm light from the candles made your eyes droop, succumbing from tiredness. There was too much in the air to fully accept sleep.
“I’m really sorry, Spencer-”
“Look, I’m sorry-”
Spencer turns his head ever so slightly towards you instinctually, as do you to him.
“You go first-”
“My bad, you go-”
A snort leaves you. You both burst out laughing.
“Stop, stop! Okay, stop,” you trail off with a giggle. Spencer’s softening laughter and slight head tilt towards you indicates he’s now waiting his turn. You bite your lip and your face falters into seriousness.
“I don’t know what I was thinking last night,” Spencer winces at your words, “I got the tiniest bit wine drunk and I become an inhibitionless idiot. And I made it so much worse by completely avoiding you today. I get why you ignored me, it’s not your responsibility to reconnect after something like that, it was all on me. And now look at me. Relying on you, being a crossfaded and anxious doofus.” you stare at how the bubbles sit between your fingers as tears well in your eyes.
“I’m really so, so sorry Spence. I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. I would do anything to make it up to you.”
Your apology was slow and just above a whisper but it rang in Spencer’s ears like tinnitus.
“I should be the one saying sorry.” His hushed words catch you off guard and stirs something in your chest, but you stay quiet like he just did for you.
“You don’t know what you were thinking? I have absolutely no fucking clue what I was thinking!” He shifts his seating position with irritation, one hand rubbing his brow.
“You send me this- this fucking picture—a great picture—and I have- I have no reply. It was like I was sent back to the body of a pubescent high schooler,” his face now drops into his hands, “my first thought was ‘this must have been the wrong number’ and ‘surely this wasn’t meant for my eyes’ and then you never came back with a panicked text taking it back or unsending it and I just- I just- I didn’t know what to do. Because you looked amazing, and I felt so guilty and weird cause you’re nearly a decade younger than me but I was also jealous at the idea that maybe… maybe it wasn’t for me. I’m still not even completely sure.”
“Oh, Spencer-” You tried to butt in.
“I kept thinking maybe you would show up to the bar later and surprise everyone. I stayed sober so maybe I could talk to you,” his voice is back to being hushed, but still as rushed as ever, “then you never showed, and I remembered that bar you told me about. I didn’t really think after that and 30 minutes later I’m there and I’m drinking and I’m wondering how you must think I’m a prick or something.”
He’s running his hands through his curly locks and sighing in irritation. You swear his eyes are tearing up a little.
“When I saw you whispering to that guy, it’s like my world slowed around me. I never get that jealous, like sure, here and there I guess I do but, man. I was furious and- and shocked. Not even just at the situation but at myself too, you know? I shouldn’t be feeling this way for someone 9 years younger than me and working under me. Then I saw your face and the way you turned away and I was just like: ‘fuck it, she’s my friend and I’m being an asshole’ and I j-just got up and ran as fast as I could after you, hoping I wouldn’t lose you. Both tonight, and in our friendship.”
“Spencer-”
“I should have- I should have responded. I shouldn’t have ignored you, no matter what you say-”
You grab his face with your wet and bubbly hand, forcing him to look at you.
“Spencer, it was for you.”
There’s a flicker in his eyes. They’re erratically searching your face, opened wide. Something deeply unreadable swims through them. Subconsciously he adjusts himself so his body faces you more.
“What?”
“The picture.” You whisper, slowly dropping your hand from your aggressive grip on his face into a wet caress of his cheek and facial hair.
Something inside Spencer’s head snapped and in his gaze something shifted. Without missing a beat, there was movement. Spencer lifts both hands to cup your cheeks before leaning in with a desperation and swiftness unexpected from a person like him, kissing you hard. He’s pulling your face into his, silently praying for you to reciprocate; to prove you meant what you said.
Your heart burns alight as you wrap both your wet arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss. The sounds of your lips fill the room. Spencer’s hands move from your face to your slick hair, from your slick hair to your neck, from your neck to your bare shoulders, he can’t seem to still himself but neither does he go any further.
A nibble on your bottom lip elicits a low and insignificant moan, but Spencer is fueled by it. He runs an excited yet unsure tongue over your lips and lets out a soft, relieved breath from his nose when you allow him in. You taste of his toothpaste and something sweet and its utterly intoxicating to him. He tastes of cider and peppermint gum and it’s so, so Spencer. Your senses are completely overrun.
Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.
You let out a string of mewls and hums. You raise your position in the bath in a desperate attempt to get closer over the barrier of the bathtub, revealing the upper half of your naked figure. Spencer seems unnoticing, letting out small groans that mix with your own.
Spencer. Spencer. Spencer.
All the tension in your muscles from the day behind you completely unknot in his embrace. Pulling one arm away from his neck, you grab one of his hands on your shoulder, still continuing the kiss. You begin inching his hand lower, testing the waters and desperate for him to touch you. Spencer pulls his face away the tiniest bit, his eyes drunk on you and eyebrows drawn with concern. Are you trying to move his hand off you?
He pulls his eyes away from your face to look at what you’re doing and lets out a strangled, shaky breath. The bubbles of bath soap run down from your collar bone and outlines the curves of your exposed chest. Your skin looks soft and glossy as it reflects the flickering candlelight. He mutters curses under his breath.
He catches your sultry gaze again, even in the lack of light you see his pupils blown wide. There is a heat radiating off him that wasn’t there before. This man is 35 years old yet he still manages to look at you like he’s a virgin, you think to yourself.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He says, almost absentmindedly, like he meant to just think it.
It was incredibly earnest. Not like when your first boyfriend in high school would say it just because that’s what couples say. You’ve never felt like this before. If time paused in this moment, you would be okay with that; to sit staring at each other for eternity.
Then, there is a buzzing from the intercom at the door. You both tense and release your hands from each other on reflex.
Right, HomeState. You cover yourself with your arm and bubbles, looking away bashfully but still smiling. Spencer rubs his arm with the same expression.
“M’sorry. Unfortunately, I do think I should get that.”
“Yes, probably. It’s okay.” Your smile is audible.
Spencer leans on the bathtub wall to get himself off his knees and you hear two crackle and pops as he gets up. You stifle a little awkward laugh, and he shoots you a bemused look.
“I, uh, I’ll see you in the living room. Take your time.” He says, before walking out of the bathroom to meet the delivery driver.
Your body is incredibly tired and slow. Mentally, you feel the most sober than you ever have.
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
Spencer’s ‘Creed’ shirt is not something you’d think you’d ever wear, let alone be willingly permissed to wear by Spencer himself. His sweats hang low on you making it so you had to pull the drawstring in all the way. Seeing the way his clothes fit was proof of the size difference between you two and turns you on immensely.
You’re still in shock. Spencer liked your photo. Spencer likes you. Spencer kissed you.
While cleaning your smudged make-up in the mirror (as best as you can with a towel and no make-up remover) you ponder on what Spencer said to you. You felt like a huge idiot. But so does he, so it’s equal.
You bring the collar of Spencer’s shirt to your face, sniffing it while you bounce up and down and quietly squeal. You take a deep breath, shake off your lingering tiredness and nervousness before leaving the bathroom.
Theres a low hum of noise coming from the living room. You creep down the hall as you recognise the noise to be some music on low volume. The smell of food hits you and you realise just how hungry you are.
Spencer is sat on the couch faced a little away from you, not realising your presence. You stand still and just stare for a moment. He’s on his phone on what looks like apple music and he’s biting his nails; a bad habit you haven’t seem him do before. He’s changed his clothes from a plain white tee and light jeans to dark grey sweats and a faded graphic tee. Seemingly in deep thought he sighs and runs the hand he was biting through his curls, nibbling his lip as he does so. This action causes him to catch your eye, he jolts involuntarily.
“Shit, you sneaked up on me,” he plays off his thoughtful face with a dry laugh.
You see his eyes check you before snapping back up to your face. He taps the space next to him on the couch, beckoning you to sit and eat. You sit an affectionate but awkward distance next to him, unsure of the vibe after the events in the bathroom. You look inside the takeaway bag and see your exact HomeState order to a T. You gasp and beam a smile at him, eliciting one from him too. He seems particularly satisfied he got your order right, letting out a small sigh of relief only someone as observant as you could have noticed.
After that, you both seem to sink into a comfortable chatter for the first time tonight. You kept up the best as you could in your current state, but you notice Spencer speaking slower and repeating things for you without a second thought. It’s like he was programmed to always accommodate for you. He kept showing you videos and tweets on his phone and it was just like how you guys were before the nude… except now you are irrationally horny.
Your half eaten HomeState lay discarded on the coffee table as you look over Spencer’s shoulder. He thinks you’re looking at his phone, but your half-lidded eyes are laser-focused on his side profile. In between sentences he licks his lips, and you bring your legs to your chest. He laughs at the tweets he’s showing you, and the melody makes you fidget with the drawstring of your—well, his—pants. Then, at a particular favourite he looks over to see your reaction and is met with your intent eyes, stopping his sentence in its tracks.
Your noses are nearly touching. Without noticing, throughout your conversation you’ve both progressively moved closer and closer to each other. His breath fans over your face. Both of you have flickering eyes.
It was wordless, but enough was said. You snake your hand through the curls at the nape of his head and bring him to meet your lips. He lets out a breath of relief, like he was hoping for the right moment to continue what was interrupted. Spencer chases your lips even though you weren’t going anywhere, it’s clear that his confidence has increased this time around. His hands snake to your waist at an awkward angle and you decide to take a leap of faith and, without breaking the kiss, slip into straddling him on the couch.
It's Spencer who breaks the kiss. You look at him confused and with worry and also with a little impatience. You can feel your slick pooling between your thighs. He looks up at you with swollen lips and yearnful eyes, but you can pick up on the air of concern that clouds him. He strains out your name.
“Are- How- Are you sure about all of this…? You were super intoxicated tonight, and, like, you puked a serious amount,” He rubs your waist as he speaks. Through all his sweetness and careful demeanour, you can’t help but notice the rock-hard bulge underneath you as he speaks with a shakiness. You press a soft kiss on his lips.
“Spencer, it feels like I’ve never been this clear-headed. I get totally rendered useless when I have panic-attacks, I couldn’t distinguish the difference between the shakes in my legs to be from alcohol or adrenaline or both. Same with the puke. If anything, the puking made me feel leagues better. Even though, I do feel bad for that corner store I did it in front of,” He laughs at that, and you can sense his comfortability as he sneaks his arms around your waist, “I really, really like you, Spence. I feel on top of the world in this moment.”
“I really, really like you too,” he pauses, “at any time if, you know, you’d rather just go to bed you know-”
You cut him off as you grind down on previously mentioned bulge. He halts his sentence with a hard groan, his hands moving from your back to grip down on your hips. His eyelids flutter and you’re amused at his reactions. You place your hands around his jaw and dip down to his ear,
“I’ve thought about this for way too fucking long to just go to bed.” Spencer’s grip tightens and you gasp at the buck he made against you. He mutters profanities under his breath.
You go back in for a kiss, rougher this time. There’s a sense of urgency between you, like you both are making up for lost time. The low music is overpowered by the erotic noises of your kisses and moans, Spencer’s groaning mixing in with the noise as you grind your hips over his sweats.
His hands get more confident, going from edging the hem of his ‘Creed’ shirt to finally sneaking below it and touching your hot skin. The movement urged you forward as well, breaking the kiss to start trailing sloppy pecks. His cheeks, his stubbly neck, his collar bone. Each kiss bringing involuntary noises from the brunette you thrived off.
You pull back, causing him to whine. You go to pull off your shirt but Spencer stops you.
“No, I want it on,” He pulls you back in and takes his turn now to kiss your neck and collar, “you look so good like this…”
He moves one hand further up your side to just under your breast.
“Is this?”
“Anything is okay, Spence. Just- Just do it, please. I need you.”
You moan back into a kiss as he cups your breast in his large hand, your hips stuttering when he pinches your nipple. You smirk in this kiss as you think of an idea. When you break it, Spencer looks confused at your devious face. You lift up your shirt and engulf Spencers head with it.
You both laugh momentarily but he doesn’t waste time making work of his mouth on your tits. You’re throwing your head back as he sucks and nibbles on your sensitive areolas, still playing with your other nipple with his hand. His free hand works its way down, untying the tightly pulled drawstring of your sweats and slipping his hand past the hem to grip your ass. His grip is intense, like he doesn’t know his own strength, and he helps your rock your hips on his crotch as you begin to stutter due to his apparent magic mouth.
Spencer’s name tumbles out of your mouth over and over again between soft moans. In response he grumbles against your chest, causing your grip on his shoulders to tighten. Then his mouth detaches and he leaves a kiss on your sternum before an unexpected and swift movement makes you yelp. He shifts, picking you up slightly and laying you down across the couch while still under your shirt. You swear you can feel his toothy smile against your skin, matching your own.
“What are you-?”
He begins leaving a trail of ticklish kisses down your stomach from your chest, causing you to squirm. The sight of his clothed figure moving down to your core makes you choke out a moan. You can tell he’s trying to go slow but shares your impatience. He reaches your pubic bone just above your sweats and hooks his fingers on either side of your hips. You lift yourself up to aid him in ripping off the pants, leaving your lower regions bare.
You hear him say something along the lines of cussing mixed with compliments and you giggle in response. Your giggling is cut very short by a guttural groan as Spencer licks a slow stripe up your core, swirling around your clit. Your back arches as his begins sucking and kissing on your most sensitive nerves and he brings a large hand up to your stomach to push you back down to the couch. One of your thighs fly up to the side of his head, but the other is pinned down by Spencer’s other hand. You yelp out his name and he hums in response, sending an uncontrollable shiver up your spine.
Your hands grip the couch beneath you so hard you think you’ll break the fabric. Spencer’s head is still covered by your shirt, but you finally pull it off and your met with his pussy-drunk eyes staring right at you from above his fogged up glasses.
“Holy fucking shit, Spence, don’t stop! You better not fucking stop!” Spencer responds with more humming and by moving the hand on your stomach to now meet with your slick entrance.
He traces his index in a circular motion around your hole, coaxing sweet noises from your pretty mouth. He enters you with ease, thanks to your arousal. It’s just one finger, but you swear you’re already seeing stars as he begins curling it inside you. Spencer’s fingers are twice the girth of your own, but just the fact that it’s Charles Spencer Agnew who is currently eating you out and fingering you makes it feel out of this plane of existence.
“Spencer, faster please, more, please, please!”
As he promised, he is at your beck and call. He does what you say, adding a finger and picking up the pace. You break eye contact, throwing your head into the couch cushion. Tears start to prick and fall from your eyes from the pleasure and your moans morph into wet sobs and the heat of the coil in your lower stomach turns bright red. Your grip moves from the couch to Spencer’s hair, urging a groan. He can tell you’re getting desperate; he moves his hand pinning your thigh and lets you squeeze his cranium between your legs. His eyes roll back, giving you head feels just as good to him as it does to you, but his movements don’t falter.
The heat is starting to turn white. Spencer’s fingers curl just right every time, and his tongue moves fast with perfect pressure. The noises he’s making are so erotic. The slight tickle and scratch of his facial hair only makes it better. And, oh god, you can’t believe this is your boss 9 years your senior. You don’t think you can hold this back.
The heat is pure white. You manage to let out a strangled warning of what’s coming, and you feel Spencer huff out his nose and groan. The vibrations on your clit from his groan were the last straw, and the coil breaks.
The noise that comes out of your mouth were unhuman. The grip your thighs have on Spencer’s skull only tightens as your legs spasm with your orgasm. He can feel your walls flutter around his fingers and hums satisfactorily against you, egging your pleasure on. Your chest heaves and your mind is completely blank, overwritten by your orgasm.
There’s a long beat where you both sit in that position, with occasional kitty licks from Spencer that cause you to twitch. Finally he pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand whilst he admires your blissed state through lidded eyes. He leans over you, kissing your forehead, cheek, and neck as you sigh in content.
When you eventually come back to earth the low music fills the quiet space, your eyes flutter open and you lift your head to meet Spencer's eyes with a languid smile. He reciprocates your facial expression and lands a soft kiss on your mouth, ending it with a bump of your foreheads together. You remembered something.
"Shayne drunk texted me tonight. He said you left early cause you missed me," You smile and Spencer shakes his head with unserious disbelief, "so, it's true?"
There's a small sigh from the man, "Yeah. Yeah, it's true."
You beam from under him, basking in the confirmation as he rolls his eyes with faux annoyance.
“Can I do you now?” You ask, under your breath.
Your request makes Spencer’s face waver. You pull back and raise an eyebrow.
“Well… about that…”
You push his shoulder, signalling him to sit up and he begrudgingly lifts himself up onto his knees. Your eyes drop to his crotch and in place of his hard imprint is a large wet spot. You gasp and he shrinks into himself sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry… I was thinking of your picture all night and all day but never did anything about it and I guess it all just came.”
You look up at him from your position and he’s relieved to see an open-mouthed smile.
“That is so hot, Spencer.”
He muffles his laugh with the back of his hand, trying to hide his blush.
“Seriously, my higher up just gave me the best head I’ve ever had and he came in his pants? That's the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”
“So, does this mean I can take you out on a proper date?”
You've had enough of your abusive boyfriend controlling your life so you kick him out. Your best friend helps you pick up the pieces, some of which you didn't even know were broken in the first place.
TW: Depiction of abuse, heavy misogynistic and degrading comments from ex to reader, usage of names like 'slut' and 'whore', gaslighting and manipulation, breaking and entering, death threats against reader, holy crap this got dark guys, badass reader, protective best friend/boyfriend, knives, cats protecting their mother, self doubt, nonlinear healing, reader needs and goes to therapy, please do not read this if it will trigger something I cannot emphasize that enough
Someone somewhere once said “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”, and they were right. At least about you. You were fed up. Fed up with your stupid boyfriend Jeremy and your lease that couldn’t run out soon enough because you knew for a fact he was cheating on you with his ex-coworker Rebecca. Fed up with doing all the chores and cleaning up after him like a maid while he played his silly little games on his computer, flirting with girls ten years younger than you and NOT looking for a job like he said he had been for the past three months while you paid all the rent.
And he had the audacity to call your job at Smosh a little hobby.
You were going to kick his fucking ass.
You were past the stage of hurt and sad. You were hurt when he forgot Christmas, your two year anniversary and your birthday all in the span of six months. You were sad when you found his crappily hidden Discord messages on his phone to a girl that looked like she was in high school. You wanted to rip his hair out when you “accidentally” left your camera on and it filmed him and Becky fucking like animals in the apartment you were paying for, on the mattress the two of you bought together.
He could have his stupid little life for all you cared. You were kicking the whiny bitch out.
He was so focused on his game that he didn’t even hear you throwing things into bags, walking out the door and tossing them onto the ground. He only noticed when he went to grab his phone charger and it wasn’t there. In fact, nothing of his was there anymore.
“Where the hell did my stuff go?”
You threw another garbage bag filled with crap out the door. “It’s outside.”
“Well, why isn’t it inside?”
“Because I’m tired of you treating me like shit and fucking Becky in our bed.”
“Here we go again, the fucking crazy bitch is back. I’m not fucking Becky.”
“Uh huh.” You pulled out your camera. “So what’s this hmm? Some casual hand holding? If you want some stupid housewife to sit back and cuck, go find her somewhere else. We’re done.”
He grabbed your wrist hard enough to leave bruises. “I’m. Not. Leaving.”
“I figured you’d say that. So I already called Becky for you to have her come pick you up. Apparently, she didn’t know you had a girlfriend. Now I don’t really believe that but I figured you’d rather run to her with your tail between your legs and go get some pussy than be here with me. So really, I’m doing you a favor.” He let go of your wrist and stalked out of the door, waiting to see if you’d come crawling back if he stepped out. You slammed it in his face. “Buh bye now! See you never!”
“You’re gonna fucking regret this you whore!” He yelled through the thick wood.
“I don’t really think I do.” You murmured to yourself, sliding down onto the floor against the wall. You locked the door, thankful you remembered to pocket his key while you were tossing his stuff so he couldn’t come back. Looking around the room, you realized that your stuff was in disarray from your frantic packing.
Sighing, you opened your phone to text some people.
Y/N: How much does a used PC and everything with it go for? Asking for a friend
Damien: Is it smashed?
Y/N: Not yet
Damien: Are you safe?
Y/N: Kicked him out
Y/N: Threw out all his stuff with him
Y/N: He’s probably crying to his mommy with his new girlfriend right now
Damien is calling…
“Hey Dames.”
“I’m on my way.”
“What? No. You don’t have to do that, the place is a disaster.”
“I’m bringing ice cream. And one of my knives.”
“I wouldn’t waste one of your nice decorative knives on him.”
“It’s worth it to keep you safe.”
You choked up at the thought of someone prioritizing your safety, at the thought of you mattering. “Thanks.”
“Always.” His voice sounded grave. “I’ll be there in three minutes.”
You fought hard to keep the sobs from coming out. That was the thing you argued most with Jeremy about. Damien. You couldn’t help but talk about him, or his cats, or his silly antics. He was a bright ray of sunshine in your life, and you couldn’t help it! Jeremy tried to forbid you from seeing him, claiming he was only trying to get in your pants and steal you away.
Well look how that turned out. Projecting much?
You heard a soft knock on the door and you opened it nervously. What if it wasn’t Damien? What if Jeremy was back?
You let out a relieved huff when you saw it was Damien, holding a pint of your favorite ice cream. Pushing him in, you quickly locked the door behind him, just in case. He stumbled forward, taking in the state of the room and then you, eyes cataloging any mark that he could’ve caused. His eyes narrowed when he got to your wrist.
“What the hell did he do to you?”
“Just grabbed me. Could’ve been worse.”
He shook his head before pulling you into a tight hug. “But it could’ve been better too.” He felt your tears start soaking the fabric of his shirt. “It’s okay, let it all out.”
He walked you over to the couch, pulling a blanket over the two of you and rocking you back and forth, ice cream forgotten on the counter.
“He- he fucked her in our bed. Every shoot day I was gone and he was telling her he was gonna knock her up because his ‘slut of a girlfriend’ didn’t want kids yet, but it was his right as a man to have them.” You felt his arms squeeze tighter around you, shielding you from the ghosts that haunted this apartment. “He made me pick up his dirty, crusty underwear and wash it for him and ordered me around, and I just got so tired Dames. I couldn’t live like that any more.”
“You shouldn’t have had to live like that in the first place. That’s abuse. He abused you.”
“But he used to be so nice. He used to take me on candlelit dates and he met my mom and he told me he loved me.” Your voice broke, just like his heart was breaking.
“I know.”
You hiccuped before looking around the room. “I keep waiting for him to come back. And for me to have to fight and kick and scream to get him out.”
“We’ll pack a bag for you, okay? You can sleep in my guest room, the cats would be happy to have you. We can come back whenever you feel ready to sort through your things.”
“And then?”
“Then you either find your own place or you officially move in with me, just like we used to talk about before Jeremy decided he was going to be the worst human being alive.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
He pulled back enough from the hug to look you in the eye. “You will never be a bother to me. Promise.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. He didn’t think you were a bother. “Let me go pack my things.”
He nodded solemnly, hand on what you assumed to be the knife in his pocket. “I’ll keep an eye on the door. Take your time.”
You rose, trying to stay calm while you packed your essentials. Pants, shirts, dresses, your laptop. You dug through the back of your closet until your hand hit a box. A box of things Jeremy had made you put away, saying that it was weird to have them out while you were dating. You opened it, and right on top was the small stuffed animal cat that looked just like Zelda. She shouldn’t have to stay in this house either. Into the bag she went.
He took your heavy suitcase out of your hand before you could even ask for help, passing you the knife. “You got everything?” You thought about the books, the photos of you and your friends from college, everything that made your house a home but wouldn’t fit in the bag you were taking.
You nodded. “For now.”
“We’ll be back, don’t worry.”
You believed him.
—--------
Living with Damien took some getting used to. He was almost too kind. You kept turning corners expecting to be screamed at or ordered around. But all he did was smile tiredly and ask what you wanted to do for dinner. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to take back his offer and dump you on the side of the road. He never did. He stayed by your side, stable and unrelenting. He held you when you cried and you reached for him even when you weren’t. He watched cheesy movies with you and listened when you talked over them. He sometimes called you sweetheart when the TV had long gone dark and the stars shone out the windows. You didn’t know what to call it, except for home. He had always been home.
But another thing that was hard to get used to was the quiet. Damien was gone pretty frequently for cons, recordings or auditions. And you were happy for him, you always had been, it was his dream after all.
But you just didn't know what to do with yourself when he was gone. Dinner was easy to throw together, the house was already clean, the cats were purring happily, but there was a pit in your stomach you couldn’t undo. You had rearranged your room four different times because it didn’t feel right, washed all of the blankets of the persistent layer of cat fur (even though you knew it’d be back within the hour) and watched a movie.
Nothing felt right.
You thought the cats could feel it too. They had been circling you like sharks, never leaving your side.
Anxiety, you told yourself. My therapist says this is trauma induced anxiety.
Then came the knock at the door. You feared whoever was on the other side was going to kick it in, and you knew exactly who it was. Your intuition had never been wrong before, and you doubted it was wrong now.
You dialed 911 without thinking. Told them about the intruder. They told you not to open the door, but it swung open anyway. He had punched a hole in the door to open it from the inside.
“Honey! I’m home!” You flinched backwards, slowly tiptoeing to where you were trying to grab a kitchen knife. Jeremy glared as he looked around the room slowly. “I knew you were fucking him. I knew it.”
“Damien and I are just friends. You were the one who was fucking someone else.”
“Well that’s no reason to leave. I can have however many bitches I want.” He took a step towards you, making you move further backwards, hand shaking around the handle of the knife. “Don’t you want to come home? I’ll treat you so well sweetheart.” The use of such a sweet nickname used with such malice made you want to throw up. That wasn’t his to say anymore. He started to corner you against the kitchen counter and you felt your resolve begin to crumble. You should just go back with him. Make it easy so Damien doesn’t have to deal with any of this. His life was perfect before he decided to help you.
Suddenly, Jeremy screamed in pain. Freyja had taken a large bite out of his leg, and the shock of it sent him to his knees, giving you enough time to put the knife between you and him and gather your courage. “Get away from me. Get out of my fucking house.”
He put his hands up. “You don’t have to do this. You love me. You want to come home with me.”
You didn’t let your guard down, knowing it was part of his usual tricks. “I haven’t loved you for a long time.” You heard police sirens in the distance. You just had to stall until they got here. “You’re a horrible person and I am going absolutely nowhere with you.” He tried to move closer and you slashed clumsily at his outstretched hand, barely catching the skin of his palm.
“You bitch, you’re gonna pay for that.” He lunged, but you lunged too, using your full body weight to knock him over. Red and blue lights tinged your vision.
“Police, put your hands up!” Jeremy was caught. You put the knife on the counter and put your hands up too, just in case. “Are you the one who called?”
You nodded as they started to handcuff Jeremy. “He broke in and tried to kidnap me, he’s my ex.”
“She let me in willingly! Don’t listen to her!”
You panted. “There are cameras outside, you can have all the footage. He punched a hole in the door. My cat, she bit him when she saw me cornered.”
The officer led you outside where an ambulance was waiting. The EMTs wrapped you in a mylar blanket and checked you for injuries. While they were monitoring you for shock, you called Damien.
His voice was foggy when he picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. Uh- there’s a hole in your front door now. But they’re paying for damages so it’s fine. The geese and I are fine too. We’re chilling. Well, Freyja may have a taste for human flesh now but that’s kinda the least of my worries right now.”
“Woah, sweetheart, slow down.” That was how it was meant to be said. Your heart fluttered wildly, something you hadn’t felt for years until him.
He waited for you to speak, patient as ever. Meekly, you said, “Jeremy broke in and tried to take me.”
“I’m changing my flight right now. I’m coming home.”
“You still have two more days left in Philly. What about the fans?”
His voice was firm. “Nothing is more important than you and the babies being safe. I need to be there. Call Court and Shayne and have them stay for the night. I’ll be home soon.”
“Be safe, please.”
“The same goes for you sweetheart. I trust you to protect yourself but I want to be there to help.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too, call Court and Shayne.”
“I will.” He hung up.
A paramedic readjusted your blanket. “Boyfriend?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, it sounds like he cares a lot.”
“He does.”
Later that night, curled up in Damien’s bed with Little Z, Tuppence and Freyja, you tested it out. Boyfriend. It was scary how right it felt. But maybe- just maybe it had always been right, and it had just needed time to find its way. You took a shaky breath and imagined laying on his chest, his hand brushing through your hair in the way that always made your bones feel like jello. Whatever it was, it would be alright once he was here. Even if you were just friends.
—-----
When Damien got home, he found you scrubbing blood off the kitchen tile. You had your hair pulled back and had yellow rubber gloves up to your elbows. The water was soaking your knees, but it didn’t seem like you cared. You had to get it off, had to rid yourself of the stains Jeremy put on your lives.
You looked up and met his eyes. He was crying, the amber in his eyes darkening to nearly black. You couldn’t help but cry too. You had nearly lost everything. You had nearly lost yourself. And that was the worst part.
He knelt in the soapy water with you, keeping a safe distance, before putting his hand out to you. At the sudden movement, you flinched backwards involuntarily, and he defeatedly drew it back into his lap.
The two of you sat there, cold, wet, and teary until you gathered the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
Damien’s voice came out soft. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Your house got broken into because of me.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it? He came here looking for me. If I had just gone with him willingly or stayed-”
Damien practically growled, stunning you into silence. “Your safety matters more to me than this fucking house. What would’ve happened if there weren’t any cameras or if you hadn’t called the police in time? I don’t care that there’s a hole in the door, well, I do a little bit but that’s a safety thing too.” He pushed the bucket out of the way and put his hands face up on the floor. You reached out tentatively and took them, and he curled his fingertips around yours. “I care about you. So much. I have for so long. And I will do absolutely everything I can to make this a safe place for you again.” Tuppence meowed from behind him in agreement and Freyja knocked a spoon that had been sitting on the counter into the sink with a clatter. “The geese want to too.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” You looked up at him. “I feel like my whole life imploded and just when I started to rebuild, it got set on fire.”
“We can start with the little things, like maybe a towel and changes of clothes for both of us?”
“And then?”
“And then we hire someone to fix the door. The wind is cold and that tarp is doing nothing.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It won’t be, but it’ll be ours.”
You sighed. “What if he comes back?”
“Then we’ll be ready. But odds are he goes to jail, and we can file a restraining order on him so he can’t come near you ever again. And he won’t. Not on my watch.”
You liked the way he said ‘we’ with no questions asked.
—----------
Rebuilding your life was hard. Ignoring your feelings for Damien was starting to become even harder.
You had had them before this all started, flickering in the background like a ghost light, but living with him, simply existing beside him mundanely, fanned the flames exponentially. He took a break from cons for a while, insisting that it would make both of you feel better. You went to even more therapy than before, cooked him dinner on long shoot days, and eavesdropped on his cozy Sunday streams. And slowly but surely, it got better. You baked a cake when you didn’t jump from a knock on the side of the house for the first time in months. He went to the beach with you, slathered in sunscreen with his umbrella, when you finished self defense classes. Freyja, did not in fact, develop a taste for blood (a fact which both of you were incredibly grateful for) so both of you went out to dinner.
It was simple. Easy. You were just friends. A little voice whispered in the back of your mind though. What if? What if the two of you crossed that line from friends into more? It would be so easy. You already do everything together, he calls you ‘sweetheart’ and tells you that you’re strong and beautiful, and you hold hands all the time. Nothing would change.
Apparently, he had been thinking the same thing.
You came home from work to the smell of curry and garlic naan from the Indian restaurant next door, a normal occurrence, but you stopped when you saw the kitchen table. The spread of food was enormous, plated family style in your nicest dishes surrounding small LED candles and a vase full of sunflowers.
Damien walked in, running a hand through his wet hair and pulled you into a hug as soon as he spotted you.
You breathed in the comforting smell of his shampoo as you leaned your head on his shoulder. “What’s all this?”
He pulled away, grinning and pulling out your chair. “Sit, you must be hungry.” You sat, filling both of your plates as he filled your drinks. The two of you ate, chatting about your day, the cats, his coworkers antics, and most importantly, the food itself. Once your plates were clean, he cleared his throat. “So, I don’t know if you remember what day it is, but it’s been exactly a year since you kicked Jeremy out, and I just wanted to say that I’m really proud of you.” He choked on his words. “You’ve been so brave throughout everything.”
Your eyes shone with unshed tears. “Damien-”
“I wanted to make this day a happy day for you, because I know memories can be a lot, and I just wanted you to know that I love you. I love you in every possible way, and no matter what happens, I’d like to stay by your side through it all.”
“I love you too. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”
He let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank goodness, otherwise I would’ve had to eat mango sticky rice all by myself and cry.”
You giggled and kicked his shin under the table. “Well, then we must celebrate with it instead.” Standing, you opened the fridge to see the biggest thing of mango sticky rice you’d ever seen. You turned your head to look at him. “Damien?”
He batted his eyelashes, grinning. “Yes dear?”
“Why is there a literal pound of mango sticky rice in our fridge?”
He stood up, wrapping himself around you. “A normal portion didn’t seem celebratory enough.” That was your breaking point. You started to shake with sobs, little hiccups coming out of you. “Sweetheart, hey, what’s wrong?”
“I just- you love me and you’re perfect and this is everything I’ve ever wanted and I never thought I’d get this.”
“You deserve this. Every little bit of it.”
“I used to think I didn’t. I don’t know if I do now.”
“You always did. No matter what that fuckass Jeremy said. Can you say it back to me?”
“I deserve this. I deserve to be happy and loved.” It came out wobbly.
“You deserve to be happy and loved.” He kissed the back of your neck. “And you are so strong sweetheart, the strongest person I know.”
“I couldn’t do this without you.”
“You’ll never have to.”
A/N: Originally this was supposed to be badass reader kicking her ex bf's ass and going along with the song Expectations by Olivia Rodrigo but this got too personal and sad for that. Also I would highly recommend (if you are in a solid enough mental state) to read about what happened to Renee Rapp and why she wrote this song.
Give us some comfort fic!!! I love Spencer cuddling or just the idea of him comforting readerrrr
The Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
pairing: Spencer Agnew x fem!reader
summary: Today nothing seems to be going your way and all you want (and need) is your boyfriend to comfort you
warnings: kinda suggestive kissing but like not really lol
word count: 1.5k
a/n: sometimes hot girls have shit days unfortunately and I hope you enjoy this anon!!
divider: @/saradika-graphics
You know today isn't going to be in your favor when you realize you never got your good morning kiss from Spencer. Or maybe you did get your kiss but you never realized you did. Either way, in your mind you never got your kiss, which means today's just not going to go in your favor.
He had to go in earlier which means it was just you and Cleo getting ready together. Just some fun girl time.
Except it's not because when she was walking towards the bathroom, she decided to walk in front of you, causing you to narrowly avoid tripping over her and subsequently end up ramming your foot and shin against one of the bedposts.
"Fuck!" You double over, one hand holding onto the bed while the other goes to your foot. "Cleo! What the hell?"
She simply blinks at you before padding away, heading off to the living room and leaving you to suffer all on your own. The pain in your foot will go away soon enough but your shin's another story. You managed to cut yourself on the bedpost. How? You have no idea and you don't want to dwell on it, limping to the bathroom to bandage it up and get on with the rest of your morning routine.
Now dressed and no longer limping due to Cleo's attempt on your life, you make your way to the kitchen, where your boyfriend's cat — because right now she's his cat, not your cat — is already waiting at her bowl.
"I thought we were having a girly morning Cleo?" You lament and you open a can of her food, dishing out half the tin and saving the other half for after work. All you get in return is a slow blink. "Yeah, yeah, fuck me I guess," you mumbles to yourself as you set the bowl down.
It's when you’re getting back up — you choose to ignore the cracking of your knees — that you glance over at the oven, a flurry of curses spewing out of your lips when you realize you’re somehow ten minutes late.
"Shit! How am I late— oh fuck me!" It hits you why you’re late. You never did hear your alarm go off, you just woke up on your own. Good thing your internal clock is good enough to wake you up at a reasonable time but you’re still late.
You don't bother with breakfast, grabbing a random cereal bar as you rush through the apartment to grab your bag and laptop, haphazardly shoving on the first pair of shoes you see before you’re out the door.
At least Cleo's having a good morning.
You, oh so naively, thought that you’d be saved by no traffic. Oh how wrong you were.
No, it seems like you were cursed with the worst possible LA traffic possible. So instead of being only a little late to the office, you’re now almost an hour late. An hour. A fucking hour.
At least you got to eat your stupid cereal bar while you were in traffic.
By the time you make it to the office, you just throw your bag onto your chair, your laptop in your arms as you rush to a Bit City brainstorming meeting you’re embarrassingly late for.
"Sorry, LA traffic got my ass," you huff as you find a seat. Courtney throws you an understanding smile but you just want to curl up and hibernate to pretend this never happened. At least you can get work done and be productive.
But apparently you can't even do that today either.
For some reason every idea you’ve thrown out is, for lack of a better word, total shit. It's probably the lingering stress and embarrassment from the carnage of this morning but you can't for the life of you suggest any good ideas. Instead you spend most of the meeting, after giving up on sharing terrible ideas, just listening to everyone else's ideas, glumly nodding along here and there.
Free from the meeting — and after apologizing once again for being so late — you make your way back to your desk, where you immediately slump onto your seat. Your head makes a quiet thump against your desk but you don't move, your eyes closed as your hair pools around you. You stay there for a few minutes before you show any sign of life again, waking your computer up to edit some videos.
Maybe you’ll be productive this way, making up for the fact you were so late this morning.
You work through lunch because one, you didn't pack a lunch today, and two, you didn't particularly enjoy what was being offered today either. So it's just you, some chips you keep at your desk, and your trusty water bottle against the word right now.
The day goes on, fully locked in on your editing. It's when you’re on your last video of the day, ready to head home and pretend today ever happened that your day just gets worse.
You click the save button when the screen freezes.
And then—
It crashes.
You can only stare back at your screen. It's all you can do, really.
You let out a sigh before simply reaching out to put your computer to sleep, already delegating this to be a tomorrow problem. You just want to go home.
So you get up, pack up, and mutely head to your car.
Getting home you’re really not surprised when there's an 'out of order' paper stuck on the elevator. You just sigh — there's been a lot of those today — and drag yourself up the stairs. At one point you wondered how acceptable it would be to just claim home on the stairs between the second and third floor but the prospect of rotting in bed's greater to your weary soul.
You open the door, fully intending on just dropping everything and just sitting on the floor when you hear the tv playing and you change your course of action.
You still drop your things, haphazardly placing your bag by the shoe rack and shoving your shoes in their right place before shuffling into the living room.
"Hey honey, I was thinking we could order for din— ough."
You drop onto Spencer, who's laying on the couch, scrolling through his phone. You’re sure there's a restaurant pulled up but you don't really care. Not right now at least.
You just make a sound and bury your face against his neck, trying to burrow your way to comfort to just forget today even happened. At least he immediately understands and you hear him toss his phone onto the coffee table before his arms wrap around you.
"Bad day, huh?" One of his hands settles on the back of your head, gentle pets with the other settles on your lower back, to keep you pressed up against him.
You don't know why but your eyes immediately water, your arms tightening where they're wrapped around him. You sniffle, all weepy and exhausted as you let out a mumble that sort of sounds like a defeated yeah.
You know you’re being dramatic, sometimes bad days just happen, but they still suck.
"Oh sweetheart," Spencer quietly murmurs, bringing out that voice he uses when you’re either sick or in need of comforting. Your head shifts, following his body as he sits up just enough to prop himself against the armrest of the couch.
His head dips down, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Then to your temple. Which shifts to the corner of your eyes, kissing away any tears that did manage to escape. To your cheeks, both of them. The corners of your lips. Before finally settling on your lips, a kiss that lingers and gets you to respond, kissing him back. It's a slow kiss, a languid motion from the two of you but it's just what you needed after the day you’ve had.
"Your fault," you mumble, barely pulling your lips away from his.
"My fault? How?" He doesn't part from the kiss either, still trading kisses as he rubs your back, his hand slipping beneath your shirt.
"Forgot my kiss this morning," you quietly whine, gripping the front of his shirt before relaxing. "Ruined my entire day."
He huffs a laugh against your lips and you can feel his smile against your pout. "I'm sorry honey, I'll make sure to kiss you extra good tomorrow to make up for fucking up your day."
"You better," you mutter, finally pulling away from the kiss. But you don't stay far, rubbing your face against his beard to feel the comforting burn against your soft skin. Blaming him for the shit day you’ve had only to immediately cuddle up to him like you can’t stay away from him, yeah sounds like you.
"I'll order our go-to Thai and after dinner we can just go to bed." Spencer offers, his hand briefly slipping beneath the waistband of your pants before going back to rub your back. "How does that sound?"
You don't even have to think about it, nodding against the side of his head as you press a litany of kisses against the cheek closest to you. "Sounds perfect."
You can survive any bad day, as long as this is what waits for you. Your favorite person who knows exactly what you need to feel better. You’ll be okay, as long as you’ve got Spencer right here with you.
Hi I would like to humbly request a Spencer Agnew x reader fic where Spencer gets jealous and reader and the other smosh members tease him for it and reader starts openly doting on spencer a lot more once they notice. Maybe reader is a coworker and they have a new hire or a guest that is openly flirting with reader.
Spencer: 1, Jealousy: 0
pairing: Spencer Agnew x cast!reader
summary: There's a new potential hire that has Spencer's vision going green, even though he has no real need to worry
warnings: a few uses of Y/n (like two times)
word count: 2.2k
a/n: I was basically done with the fic when I realized I didn't really incorporate the teasing but I hope you still like this anon!!
divider: @/saradika-graphics
Spencer wouldn't consider himself a jealous person. He, on many occasions, has said how he tries to avoid confrontation if he can. Plus he is very secure in his relationship. It's easy to be when you've been in love for the past four years.
And yet...
He's watching you explain the rules of a new board since you’re the only one who's played it before, but instead of focusing on you, his eyes are on one of the new potential hires, Danny. When they first met the other day, he hadn't had any issues with him and he thought he was nice and polite when he was working out the upcoming filming schedule to slip in each potential hire in.
Now, he's not quite sure of him.
Danny's leaning in close to you, cracking jokes quiet enough so only you can hear as they — you, Danny, Spencer, Shayne, and Angela — play a quick test round. Shayne spares a quick glance at Spencer, a silent oh? that neither can comment on before Angela lets out a loud groan when she realizes she's losing.
"Oh yeah Ange, you're dead now," you laugh as you shift your attention towards her, leaning over the table with your knee propped on the chair to reach over to hand her a card. Spencer reaches out, resting a hand on your hip so you don't topple over but he notices that Danny's hand hovers over your hip as well.
He turns his head, only to see Danny already looking at him, a subtle smirk on his face.
Oh. So that's how he wants to go about this.
"Careful there, wouldn't want you to hurt that pretty face of yours," Danny grins as you wobble just slightly as you lower yourself back into your seat. Spencer freezes, and for a moment he almost wants to commend the guy on having the balls to flirt with you so openly. Keyword, almost.
"Oh trust me, I've fallen off these chairs tons of times. There's probably a compilation somewhere," you laugh as you settle back into your seat. "But Spence always checks me out afterwards so it's all good." You tip your head back, just enough to where he can see your goofy little smile and suddenly things are okay again.
"Maybe I'll have to make sure you don't hurt yourself too."
And it's gone.
But he doesn't get much time to dwell on it before Anders calls to let them know that filming will start in 30 minutes so they can take a small break. Angela and Shayne head off the Games Stage — Shayne gives Spencer another look and this time Angela joins in, having picked up on it too, but he just gives them a short nod in silent reply — leaving the three of you at the table.
"Hey Spence—"
"Hey Y/n—"
You both go quiet for a moment before you let out a small laugh, turning your attention to Danny. "You go first."
"I was wondering if you could go over the rules again, I'm a little lost with the special cards," he explains and Spencer has a small suspicion he's lying out of his ass.
"Oh yeah totally!" You hum as you get up from your seat to gather up all the cards. Pointedly when you’re not looking, Danny throws a smug look over to Spencer before relaxing it when you come back, laying out all the cards on the table to explain them all again.
Spencer doesn't even know why he's feeling jealous right now. It's not like you’re doing it on purpose. You love explaining games to people, it's why he loves pulling your favorite games to play on the channel, just so he can see that giddy smile on your face while you’re explaining the rules to whoever's filming that day. So this is normal. He knows it is. And yet there's this pit forming in his chest as he watches Danny lean closer, not even paying attention as you go over each card again.
He ends up getting up, not wanting to watch Danny continue to flirt with his oblivious girlfriend and instead heads off to the side to scroll through his phone to distract himself until the break's over. He doesn't know how long he's been scrolling before he feels a warmth drape over his back and despite the shitty mood he's put himself in, he can't help the small smile on his face.
"Yeah?" He reaches back, gently petting your hair before you weasel yourself under his arm and wrap your arms around his middle.
"Nothing," you mumble, burying your face against his ribs, "just felt like bothering you before Shayne and Ange got back." Your hands fiddle with the hem of his hoodie and he knows exactly what you’re trying to do.
"You're not slick, sweetheart," he tsks but he's taking off his hoodie anyways, helping you through each sleeve even though you’re more than capable of putting it on yourself.
"And yet you indulge me anyways," you grin once your head pops through the top, hair mussed up and falling into your eyes. And your smile only grows when your eyes flutter close when his hands reach out to gently fix your hair for you.
Shayne and Angela come back and Anders is calling for everyone to get back in their seats. You reluctantly pull away, but not before sneaking a kiss that makes him freeze for a moment. It's not that he wasn't expecting it, it was pretty obvious what you were playing at, but he just wasn't quite used to it. The two of you try to keep pda to a minimum at work, only ever really sneaking kisses when alone or when either of them have to part to get something done.
(One time, early on in the relationship, Arasha had the misfortune of walking in on the two of you making out in the Games Stage when the two of you thought you were the only ones still around. Safe to say she still gives you shit for it, dubbing it The Incident, and forcing you two to watch yourselves at work.)
However Spencer seems to always have a hand somewhere on you, unable to help himself, so everyone's just gotten used to seeing his arm around your shoulders, around your waist, or even having a finger hooked around a belt loop if your pants have them.
And yet you stole a quick kiss and took the teasing from your friends as everyone settled back into their seats. Spencer wonders for a moment why the sudden affection when he sees Danny's jaw clench when he sits down.
Oh? Did you pick up on his flirting? You must've, unless it's just a funny coincidence.
"You cold? I would've given you my hoodie," Danny says, his grin just a tad forced as cameras do their last check.
"Just a little," you hum, fixing the sleeves of your — Spencer's — hoodie so your hands are uncovered, "but I really wanted Spencer's."
He looks over and Danny's already looking at him, lips in a thin line that doesn't last very long before Anders is giving them the cue to start. His face relaxes and soon enough you’re doing the video's intro.
Normally whenever he's filming, Spencer just focuses on what they're playing, not worrying or thinking about anything else. But today's different. Because throughout the game you keep sneaking little touches here and there.
A brief touch to his thigh. A poke to his cheek. Fixing his glasses. Holding his wrist. (That one was because you tried sneaking a look at his cards but he still counts it as part of the growing collection.) At one point you even brush a hand through his hair.
And every time he freezes for just a moment before melting into each touch. At some point he starts copying you. Fixing your hoodie sleeve. Poking your ribs. A touch to your thigh that lingers. Tugging your ear. (That one's for trying to cheat off his cards.) Shayne and Angela catch on, both of them sending looks of amusement but decide to not comment, letting the two of you flirt like annoying teenagers.
Spencer doesn't even care about winning — he's dead last and Angela casted a card that guarantees he's out in the next five turns anyways — anymore, instead he's more focused on finding ways on sneaking touches with you. Plus seeing Danny try and fail to win your attention is a nice bonus and more than makes up for the humiliating loss he's wracking.
"Noooo!" You shout, slumping over the BAF table after Danny plays a card that causes you to lose half of your points. "Angela! Help me and I'll give you—" you glance around before your eyes focus on Shayne's hand, "Shayne's wedding ring!"
"Why are you betting my wedding ring!" Shayne yells before laughing and holding onto the table. The room cracks into laughter and you fall into Spencer's side, clutching onto his arm as you try to catch your breath.
"Fuck it, Angela don't help Y/n and I'll give you her promise ring!"
"What the fuck!" You roar into laughter again, wiping the stray tears that break through your waterline.
"You started this!"
"Promise ring?" Danny asks between everyone's laughter and Spencer can't help the smug look on his face when him and you hold up your right hands, where your matching silver bands on your ring fingers shine under the light. You’re giggling, slumping to the side so you’re draped over his shoulder.
"Yeah, we got them our third anniversary," you explain once you’ve got your giggles under control. And Spencer gets a great deal of satisfaction when he watches Danny deflate, the idea of you ever reciprocating his flirting dissipating.
After the outburst, the game picks back up. Spencer's looking over his cards when he feels you poke his thigh and place a card down. He takes it and subtly adds it to his hand and realizes you’ve given him the card that kills and steals all the accumulated points of the entire game of the person of his choosing.
As satisfying as it would be to use it on Danny, his way of saying 'fuck you for flirting with my girlfriend in front of me', he knows the person he has to use it on. So on his next turn he places it in front of Angela, who immediately yells and everyone breaks into laughter again.
"And with that, Spencer wins the game!" You announce.
"What the fuck! You're kidding, I was winning!" Angela laments and slumps over the table.
"Maybe you should've helped me when you had the chance, and maybe I would've given you the ultimate card." You shrug and she only gasps.
"You cheated!" She accuses and points at you and Spencer.
"I simply helped," you smile before looking at the main camera to do the outro, focusing hard to not laugh at Angela's sputtering and complaining.
Anders calls cut and Danny's the first to get up. At least he thanks everyone before heading off the Games Stage. Everyone else staggers out until it's just Spencer and you left at the table.
You’re cleaning up the cards when he wraps his arms around you from behind. "So..." he starts, his right hand moving to rest over you, your rings pressing together.
"So..." you echo, tilting your head back until it rests against his shoulder. You know what he's trying to say, but it's fun playing along.
"You were awfully touchy," he grins, knowing what you’re doing.
"Touchy? I think I was touching you the normal amount," you hum, closing up the box the cards came in before turning around in his arms. Your arms settle over his shoulders and his naturally settle around your waist.
"Honey—" he starts but is pleasantly interrupted by a kiss instead.
"As much as I enjoy seeing you get jealous over a guy that has no chance—" he opens his mouth to defend himself before you just continue on, "—I don't like you getting worked up. So it was my way of taking care of you while we were filming."
"It was that obvious, huh?"
"Very," you grin, pulling him closer. "I know I used to be pretty oblivious—" that gets a laugh out of him, "but I can tell when people are flirting with me." Before he can make fun of you — because you know him and you know he was going to bring up how when he used to flirt with you before you started dating you couldn't tell — you beat him to the punch by kissing him again. One of your hands makes its way from his shoulders, settling at the back of his head and gently gripping his curls.
He hums into the kiss, his hands moving to splay over your lower and upper back. You’re pressed against the table when you pull away, slightly breathless, "since you're definitely not jealous, why don't we get out of here?"
"Not jealous," he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your cheeks, "but yeah, let's go home."
By the end of the week, much to Spencer's relief, it's decided that it's best for everyone if Danny doesn't continue with Smosh.
He kisses you a little harder and makes sure there isn't any space between you that night when you’re laying in bed after reading Ian's email.
And he makes a mental note to ask Shayne about engagement ring ideas.
Omg what about reader getting invited into smosh mouth (maybe for the parent week this) and talking about how her daughter loves coming to the office and how her fav cast member is Spencer and everyone just thinks it’s supper cute
Smosh Mouth: Parents Week
pairing: Spencer Agnew x single girl mom!reader
summary: You join in as the special guest for this week's Smosh Mouth episode, joining in on Parents Week and talking about your daughter and her not-so-secret favorite cast member
warnings: usage of Y/n (like 3 times, all in the beginning of the fic)
word count: 1.8k
a/n: trust that I am getting through these requests lmao I think it's taking me longer bcs I don't want to disappoint lol. Back to the fic, I was so excited to get this bcs I did think about writing a Parents Week fic but I wasn't sure about what but then this request came in! It also excites me that people enjoy And Three Makes... universe enough to want to request fics!! And I know I said the next fic was gonna be about why reader's a single mom but I just knew I had to write this when it came in. Also if anyone was wondering about the timeline, this is set right before Golden Lilypads, hence why Spencer and reader act the way they do lol. Anyways enough of me yapping, I hope you enjoy this anon and thanks for the request!!
divider: @/saradika-graphics
"Here at Smosh we only have you and two other people —"
"We only have three parents on Smosh." Amanda says as she readjusts herself on her chair, fixing up the baby in the bassinet between her and Shayne.
"Yeah, not many."
"And it's me, Alex Aguilar, and Y/n!"
"That's right. Y/n, come out here."
You pop in from behind the cameras, where you’ve been waiting for your cue while Shayne and Amanda were talking for the first half of the recording. You sit down on the middle sofa-chair, adjusting the mic before settling in and making yourself comfortable.
"Y/n, thank you for joining us." Shayne smiles and you smile back at him.
"Happy to be here." You hum, smiling at Amanda. "It's not like me and Alex played rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to do this."
"And you won so that means you were the lucky one joining us," Amanda says, nodding her head but you just give her a smile that says otherwise. Everyone breaks into a laugh. "Okay, I'm choosing to believe you won and wanted to do this with us today."
"Fans have probably not gotten to see you since... oh god, was it the last hide and seek video?" Shayne says, turning to look at you for confirmation.
You nod, "yeah and before that it was probably... the last crew TNTL?" You laugh a little before shrugging. "It's been a while, that's for sure."
"Well at least the fans are getting more you content," Amanda smiles.
"Yeah they are. I know Spencer mentioned wanting to get me on a Games video but I told him that'll probably be a birthday thing if he ever manages to convince me," you say with a shrug. Shayne and Amanda share a look across the set that you unfortunately miss, too busy pulling your shirt down to notice.
"Anyways!" Amanda segues, "you're a mom! Out of the three parents here at Smosh, you've been doing this the longest."
"Oh yes, yes! By the time this comes out," you glance off to the side, looking for Selina, who gives you a thumbs up. "Yeah so by the time this comes out Shrimpy will have turned three."
Despite working at a media company, you’ve kept pretty private about your life. Especially so when it comes to Cameron. You only call her by her nickname whenever you talk about her on camera, just for your peace of mind. And when it comes to your social media, you usually post photos of your toddler where her face is mostly covered.
"Three? Wow, she's getting so big," Shayne coos. "I still remember the first time you brought her into the office. She was so little I swear I could hold her in one hand."
"She still is!" Amanda says, "I swear she's barely bigger than my and Alex's babies."
You laugh, "yeah she's my little shrimpy. To be fair, toddlers just look small when you're not used to them and she's the only toddler here."
"Wait not to jump too much but I don't think I know how she got Shrimpy as her nickname," Amanda cuts in, adjusting her mic absentmindedly.
"Oh it's simple really," You smile, relaxing in your seat as you also pull your mic in. "When the nurses placed her on my chest after I gave birth, she immediately curled up. Like a little shrimp. So I've always called her Shrimpy since she was born. You can ask Spencer, before I even signed the birth certificate I was calling her my little shrimpy."
Amanda and Shayne both let out awws at the information before Amanda cuts herself off. "Cut this—" she starts, glancing off to the side towards Selina before looking back at you. "You're telling me Spencer was there when you gave birth?"
"Did you not know?" You say, your head tilting in slight confusion. "Yeah I called him at like 3 am and was like 'sorry to wake you up, but I'm in labor'." You laugh, "he rushed over and drove me to the hospital and kept me from freaking out."
Amanda and Shayne share another look and this time you do catch it but you don't get much time to dwell on it before Shayne's changing the topic. "Back to Shrimpy, you've mentioned she's enjoying daycare."
You beam, "oh yeah she totally does! When she was little—"
"She's still little," Amanda laughs.
"When she was littler," you correct with a small laugh, "she just slept most of the time but now that she's older she actually participates with all the little activities they plan. And she loves arts and crafts days."
"Yeah, most of your desk is covered in her drawings," Shayne laughs. "You even bought a board to pin them on because you were running out of room."
Your smile softens, "yeah our fridge is covered so I started bringing them to my desk here but then I had to buy a board like a few weeks ago."
"Spencer's desk is going to end up like yours soon," Shayne laughs and Amanda looks at you.
"Oh yeah she’s always giving him drawings," she says. "Actually speaking about Spencer, he's her favorite person here, minus you obviously."
You nod, "whenever I bring her into the office and I need to get something done, she'll always find her way to wherever he is and hang out with him."
"Oh yeah it's super adorable seeing her walk around, like she's on a mission to find him," Shayne says as he pulls his mic in. "Like listeners and viewers, imagine the cutest toddler ever—" that gets you smiling, proud of the description of your baby, "—just waddling after Spencer all over the office."
"Oh my god yes!" Amanda exclaims. "It's like the cutest thing ever and sometimes Spencer gives her little tasks. I remember one time he was setting up for a Board AF video and he let her hand everyone their character piece."
"I've seen whenever he's at his desk he'll let her 'sign off' on papers," you add on, making air quotes before letting your hands rest back on your lap, where you’re curled up on your seat. "And she looks very proper and serious, and honestly her handwriting's kinda legible so I have no complaints."
"Even with the child labor?"
"I can excuse it when he's helping her practice writing," you laugh. "Plus he always lets her nap on the Games Stage couch. If I can't find them in the common areas, they're usually on the couch, Shrimpy napping while he's working nearby to make sure she doesn’t fall off."
"It's also adorable whenever he lets her carry his water bottle and she's walking after him," Amanda adds on. "Not to mention whenever he lets her steal his caps."
"Or the serious face she gets when he's carrying her while he's directing," Shayne tacks on. "I remember when we were filming the Am I The Asshole Board AF video he had her on his lap the entire time and she looked so serious it was like she was directing us. It's so adorable."
"Well you heard it here folks," you say, grabbing your mic, bringing it in close and lowering your voice for dramatics, "my toddler's favorite cast member is Spencer by a large margin."
"Okay but who's her second favorite?" Amanda asks. You hum for a moment, thinking it over.
"Honestly? I have no idea. It's probably either Damien because I know she likes it when he talks to her in silly voices or Trevor—" you look directly at the center camera, pointing at it, "—because I know he sneaks her snacks when I'm not watching."
"Wow Trevor, I can't believe you bribe toddlers," Shayne sighs, shaking his head in mock disappointment. You and Amanda copy him, the three of you in fake disappointment before you all crack into laughter.
"I would say you should bring her in but she's just gonna stick either to your side or Spencer's," Shayne says.
You smile, "I should. She's been asking me when she can hang out with him," you laugh. "She can't go long without her favorite person."
"Must run in the family," Amanda murmurs but you manage to catch it, your head snapping toward your friend's direction. Your eyes widen slightly, mouth slackening but before you can question her on the remark you hear Shayne start off the outro and you snap out of it and join in on the goodbye.
"Great job guys!" Selina calls from behind the cameras. "You guys are officially free now."
"Not me, I got a Pit video to film later," Amanda groans as she and Shayne begin to head out. You’re still sitting, not quite over Amanda's hushed comment. You only get up when the camera crew start taking down and putting away their things in their rightful places.
"Must run in the family..." you mumble to yourself, pushing the doors open as you head to your desk to pack up. This was all you had on your schedule so you’re taking a short day and picking Cameron up from daycare early.
You don't need to have Spencer in your life constantly. It's not like you’re constantly hanging onto all your interactions together, Amanda’s just reading into things.
And yet—
"Hey! You're done for the day, right?" Spencer appears and immediately there's a small smile on your face from hearing him.
"Yeah, just finished with the Parents Week video for the Smosh Mouth episode," you say as you fall into step, heading towards your desk together. He stays nearby as you pack your things, falling into your usual conversations. "I think you'll enjoy this episode when it comes out."
"Yeah, because I'd totally be mentioned in the parent themed video," he jokes, fixing his cap.
"Well, you'll just have to see," you grin, shrugging your bag on as you walk towards the doors.
"So any plans?"
"I was gonna pick Cami up early so we could go out for a bit before dinner," you explain, letting him hold the door open as you walk through the parking lot. "Actually," you stop by your car, turning to face him, "do you want to join us? Cami's been asking when she can see you again."
Spencer blinks and points at himself. "Me? Cami's been asking for me?"
You let out a small laugh, reaching out to playfully push his shoulder. "Yes Spence, you. I know you don't believe it but she adores you. So?"
"I mean if you're sure you don't mind."
"Of course, I wouldn't offer if I did," you smile. "So we'll come by to pick you up and we can go out to eat?"
"Sounds good to me," Spencer grins and something settles in your chest that you promptly ignore as you get into your car.
Must run in the family...
Are you really that much like your daughter? You choose not to dwell on it as you pull out of the parking lot, waving at Spencer, the smile still on your face as you think about what you’ll do for the rest of the day.
Out of sight, out of mind, and you’ve got more important things to dwell on than a little comment from Amanda. But your smile only grows when you think about Cameron's face when she sees Spencer later.
taglist: @pepppers
(if anyone wants to be added to this series' taglist, send in an ask!!)
Hear me out okay Reader x Spencer and they are in smosh hospital and they "tell" everyone their dating by kissing spencer at the end (the last where everyone kissed)
Dramatics
Mostly fluff, teeny bit of hurt/comfort
TW: Miscommunication, brief cheating accusations, Rory fan club, reader is a certified bad bitch, overthinking Spencer, lots and lots of scheming, exhaustion, office siren???? methinks yes, group kissing, relationship announcement, betting on reveal, smosh being smosh (duh), T's red lipstick agenda
When Rory had approached you about being in Smosh Hospital, at first you were skeptical. Why would you put a non-cast member in an improv show? After all, your job was mainly scurrying like a rat off-screen, gathering props to make everything perfect and taunting the cast from off screen, convincing them to do the craziest shit.
“That’s why you’re perfect for the job.” Rory explained. “You know how to rile them up and play to their strengths, but you also know the limits of the crew.”
You hummed thoughtfully. “But why on camera? I mean, I’m just me.”
“That’s exactly what we want you to be. The sassy, flirty secretary who pushes everyone’s buttons.”
“I feel like I should be offended by what you’re insinuating here.”
“Don’t be, everyone loves you.”
Sighing, you conceded. It did sound fun. “Fine, as long as I have a script.”
“You’ll have a general one, but mostly we just want you to egg people on. They won’t know you’re a part of it until the day of, just like the other improv characters.”
A devious grin appeared on your face as the prospect of what you were being asked to do settled in. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
“I know.” They winked at you. “That’s why I’m the director.”
“Touche.”
“I’ll add you to all the required group chats and stuff, but you won’t have rehearsal like the other bits to preserve the secrecy. We’ll also get you fitted in secret so literally no one knows.” They pulled your script out of the massive binder they were holding. “I also took the liberty of getting this printed for you. Feel free to add your own notes and text me if you have any questions.”
You skimmed the first page quickly, chuckling at the first few lines. “Wow, you really thought of everything.”
They shrugged. “It pays to be organized. Especially when I know quite a few people aren’t.”
You thought back to a few weeks ago when Trevor had lost his script and you had to go digging through wardrobe to find it, only for it to be in his bag. “I can’t blame you one bit for that.”
“Also also, I got you a folder and a list of props to cover up the script. Can’t have any bearded men snooping through your things.”
You took the folder from them, but pursed your lips. “Shush you.”
“I wonder how long it’ll take for everyone to catch on. He’s literally staring at you right now.” Their eyes flicked from your face to over your shoulder. You turned your head slightly and watched Spencer wave awkwardly at the two of you, ears turning pink.
“Everyone knows he has a staring problem, whether or not I’m choosing to acknowledge it, well, that’s none of their business.”
“You could make me a lot of money at this rate.”
You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.”
“I narrowed mine down to the Smosh Hospital premiere. Y’know, for personal reasons.”
“Uh huh. Nothing to do with asking me to do this?”
“Wanting to ask you came before the betting bit.” They shrugged nonchalantly. “It just happened to line up after that.”
“50%.” They looked at you curiously. “That’s how much I want if I reveal it. We’ve been talking about it for a while and we both agreed it would be fun to make it as dramatic as physically possible. What’s more dramatic than Fred Darts and the sexy hospital secretary hooking up?”
Rory smirked. “You rascal. Deal.”
You held out your hand for them to shake and they took it with a flourish. “Good to do business with you my dear. Now I must go before we become too…” you lowered your voice to a whisper, "suspicious."
The two of you shook on it and Rory left to go talk to the set designer. You turned on your heel, nearly bumping into Spencer and dropping your folder and the other loose papers you had been carrying.
“Oh my god Spence, what have I said about sneaking up on me?”
He slung his arm around your shoulder. “I walked over here exceptionally loudly, just for you.”
“Oh thanks, that was really helpful.”
He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You and Rory looked like you were plotting.”
“Aren’t we always?” He frowned and you whacked him in the head with your folder. “Now I have work to do, go to rehearsal you dork.”
“Why do you hate me?” He made his eyes go wide and stuck out his upper lip. “I’m only trying to be nice to you.”
“You’re trying to make me divulge my secrets.”
He jumped backwards. “Aha! So you admit you have secrets!”
“I’m- y’know what, sure. I’ll see you at home, you drama queen.”
“Ugh fine. Love you.”
You sighed. “Love you too.”
—----------
Keeping your involvement in the show a secret from Spencer was incredibly difficult, and not just because you really wanted to tell him, but also because he was nosy as fuck. He knew you were hiding something and was determined to figure out what. And you? You were fed up.
“Did you know your nightstand has a padlock on it?”
“Yes. I put it there.”
“Why?”
“Because you are a Grade A snooper, and can’t seem to let this whole thing go.”
“Well if you have to put a padlock on it, then it seems pretty big.”
“I’m very sorry that I want to keep you from spoilers.” You brandished the spoon you were holding and some of the sauce dripped onto the floor. “Rory trusted me with this.”
“But why can’t you tell me? I wanna know.”
“You’ll know in two weeks when we do the show.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“The reason is that it’s a surprise for you! For all of you! And I get you want to know and that you don’t really like surprises but this is starting to get ridiculous Spence.” Tears welled up in your eyes. “It’s starting to feel like you don’t trust me.”
His face hardened. “Well you’ve been disappearing at weird hours too and not letting me see your phone when you’re texting them. I’m starting to worry that this is something bigger than the show. Are you… cheating on me with Rory?”
“God, no, I love Rory like a sibling. You know that.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m stressed and exhausted, and we both work crazy long days.”
“The code is your birthday.”
“What?”
“I would rather have you trust me than keep this surprise secret. The code to the lock is your birthday, you’re welcome to go look. I’d get it for you but I don’t want this to burn, and the last thing we both need is to be exhausted and hungry.”
Spencer’s shoulders drooped as he walked to your bedroom. It was just like you had said, the lock’s four digit code was his birthday. He pulled out the thick stack of papers and paused. The top page was a sketch of a brown pinstriped skirt, a white blouse and a pair of very high heels with notes and your measurements next to it. He shifted it to the bottom and realized that there was a script underneath. The script. The one that they had all received. It was heavily annotated, not with prop notes like he had thought, but with lines. Little quips that were just so you, he couldn’t help but snort. And at the end, there was a big note, circled three times in red ink.
‘Talk to Spencer about revealing our relationship to everyone.’
It all clicked now. The half-started conversations that ended with one of you falling asleep, the mysterious excursions into the night, the wall you had put up surrounding your role in everything. It all made perfect sense.
And he was the asshole who accused you of cheating when all you had wanted to do was surprise him and plan a dramatic reveal to the public, just like you had talked about.
He put all of the papers back where they had lain before he had interrupted their peace and clicked the lock back into place. He didn’t want to know any more.
He stood, brushing off his knees and walked back to the kitchen, where you were silently crying into the squash you were cooking. He wrapped himself around you like a blanket. “I’m really sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Why are you sorry honey?”
“I should’ve just told you.”
“No, no.” He brushed the tears out of your eyes. “I should’ve trusted you and stopped pushing.”
“It’s okay, I understand why.” You sniffled. “In hindsight it was pretty suspicious of me.”
“Only a little. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t overreact.”
“It happens when you’re hungry.”
He squeezed you tighter. “I’m so happy you’re in the show by the way. You’re gonna be awesome.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, of course you are, you always are. And I love your idea. The one at the end.”
You laughed, nudging his head with yours. “I figured you would. I wanted to talk to you about it tonight. Just to lay out a general plan and get some boundaries set.”
“Sounds perfect.”
—---------
Spencer had been doting on you even more than usual ever since The Incident a few weeks ago. It was clear he still felt like shit about it, no matter how much you tried to soothe him. You hoped that the show today could finally clear his head and make everything better. After all, that meant you both would finally get a normal amount of sleep and spend time together that wasn’t surrounded by people who thought the two of you were still just as oblivious to the other’s feelings as you had been a year earlier.
You ran your fingernail around the curve of your upper lip, scraping away the ruby red lipstick that had dried on your face, then stepped back from the mirror in the bathroom where you were hiding.
If this look didn’t take all the thoughts out of his head, you didn’t know what would. Your brown skirt was extremely tight, and the blouse the wardrobe department had picked out for you made your chest look even larger than usual. But the heels were your favorite part, adding four inches to your height and skyrocketing your confidence, even if you wobbled a little when you walked on the tile flooring of the office.
Your phone lit up with a text from Rory, telling you that everyone was ready for you. Squaring your shoulders in the mirror, you blew yourself a kiss. Even if you messed up, at least you looked hot doing it.
You snuck through the halls and through the back door onto the set. The show had already started, the doctors arguing about relationships and funding cuts, but everyone went silent when they saw you lean against the doorframe, acrylic nails tapping on the vinyl.
“Hello boys, did you miss me? Cuz I sure missed you.”
Shayne’s jaw dropped. Olivia let her stethoscope fall from her hand. Arasha managed to stay in character and scoffed, rolling her eyes. In the back of the room, you watched Spencer get down on the floor and start bowing. That man.
“Scarlet.”
“Dora. Fancy seeing you here.”
“We’ve worked together for ten years.”
“And yet it feels like so many more.” You strode over to the desk, taking a seat on the desk itself instead of in the chair. “The lines on your face really emphasize that.”
Arasha slapped a hand over her cheek, attempting to hide any wrinkles, and inside you applauded. She really was a good actor.
“Some of us actually take care of patients instead of using the benefits to get boob jobs and Botox.”
“Maybe you should try it. Speaking of patients, you have one waiting for you now.” You directed them to a different part of the set. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
As the cameras followed them to deal with Noah and Keith’s arm problem. Rory came rushing over to you. “You’re amazing. Are you good to keep going?”
“Absolutely.”
The closer it got to the end of the show, the more nervous you became. You watched Spencer do his Fred Darts bit and threw fake cacti at Amanda from offstage, but the pit in your stomach was growing larger and larger. You and Spencer had talked about announcing it, but never formally decided on how, and as you watched Damien’s robot counter tick down, you realized that you yourself were running out of time. But then, you got pulled in for a five-way kiss. It had happened so fast you didn’t even have time to process that your lips were on Courtney’s, then Angela’s and then you got pulled back out of the circle with a harsh tug.
“Get your hands off my girlfriend!” Spencer yelled valiantly, putting his IV bag between you and the group of doctors. Everyone looked at him in shock as he grabbed you by the waist and kissed you passionately. People started screaming from all angles and flooded onto the set for the end credits, but you didn’t care, not when you could love him out loud like this. Spencer pulled away from you, grinning and covered in lipstick. You were sure you didn’t look much better.
Worth it.
A/N: I wish I could've referenced Smoshpital better during this but I watched it once through a crappy archive website and that's the only time I've seen it lol
love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night
pairing: platonic!trevor evarts, spencer agnew x single girl mom!reader
summary: when reader brings iris into the office the two of them meet trevor for the first time. things don't know how either of them expected
warnings: mentions of a baby possibly getting injured (not iris), fluff, no use of y/n, no proof-read, flashback fic
word count: 3.6k words
a/n: tell a friend to tell a friend, she's backkkkk !! hi !!! i've had so much fun writing this for the past couple days. i have switched back to writing by hand, there's just more motivation for me that way for some reason. but that also means i then have to copy everything into digital because my handwriting gets copy and paste all kinds of confused. anyway ! i wrote this because i realized that in nine parts of the iris-verse i have never once mentioned trevor. and i wanted to do our favorite guy some justice. i hope i did well. so good to be back ! until next time !
you don't entirely know what you're doing or where all the overlaps are supposed to happen. you'd watched more videos than you care to admit last night, keeping iris up past her bedtime to make sure you understood it and at the end stood triumphantly in the mirror, admiring your work. so you were sure you could replicate it this morning. but as iris remains in her car seat with her big eyes fixed on you, you continue to struggle. you're pretty sure you've done it correctly but you're nowhere near confident enough to actually put your baby in it. so instead you take the whole thing off and throw it as quickly as you can into the diaper bag. since you're definitely already late from trying and failing with the baby wrap you lift iris out of her seat and place her on your hip, adjusting so the both of you are comfortable, then take the short walk out of the california sun and into the air conditioned office.
immediately selina greets the two of you, you returning the smile while iris simply stares at her. but selina doesn't seem to mind and waves 'bye' to her as you walk past and head towards your desk. you barely have your stuff down when a gasp comes from beside you, courtney now walking towards you.
"iris! i can't believe you didn't tell me that you were bringing her in today!"
you chuckle and turn to them, letting iris fall into their arms. courtney's smile grows bigger while iris begins slapping her little hands against courtney's face then quickly moving to her hair. courtney succeeds in keeping the smile but you notice the pain that lies underneath, from both courtney's body language and your own experience with those tiny but somehow incredibly strong fingers, that you're pretty sure have as much power behind them as a body builder. you try to be quick in solving the situation.
"iris! no, ma'am, there's no pulling hair in the office."
"it's okay, let her pull on it while i still have it; i'm planning on cutting it soon."
you gasp. "that's gonna looks so good! how short are you planning on going?"
"i'm thinking like a long-ish mullet, maybe. definitely shorter than it is now but not too huge of a change. not too much shorter than that, though."
you nod in response. "oh, i totally get that. i've been wanting to dye my hair lighter recently, actually. will keeps saying that he doesn't like how dark it is, and the more i look at it in the mirror the more i agree with him; i think it's time for a change for me, too."
you watch the way courtney's face changes as she processes each of the words as they come out of your mouth. the look of encouragement when you mention wanting to go lighter, then the absent yet forced expression like they're trying to keep a neutral visage. the face that they keep for the remainder of the time you're speaking. you want to ask about it, figure out the reason, but before you can get a word out you hear someone else.
"hey!"
trevor.
he joined at just around the same time as you, but with mythical kitchen keeping him off set a lot and maternity leave keeping you off set until a couple months ago, the two of you never had many chances to interact. and by the way he keeps his eyes glued to you as he makes it to your desk in record time, it seems he wants to change that.
unlike everyone else you've ever interacted with since having iris, trevor all but ignores her. she doesn't seem to care, though, content with courtney for the time being.
"i keep hearing about you all over the office but i guess our schedule never lined up. i just wanted to finally get the chance to meet the person who i've been hearing nothing but good about."
a slight pout comes to your lips. "that's so sweet… i've seen you in a few videos and i know we've exchanged some emails, but it's just been so crazy how everything happened. i can't believe it's taken us almost a year to meet. with how small the office is i'm surprised we didn't run into each other more than once already."
trevor nods. "oh yeah, on mythical it feels like you can't get away from anyone."
you chuckle. you swear you've heard that from somewhere. "well, there's not much to learn about me, but you did catch me on an iris day."
his brows furrow. "'iris day'?"
"mhm. you walked right past her." trevor turns and finally seems to notice the baby. your baby, who still sits in courtney's arms. "my daughter. she doesn't come in a whole lot, so consider yourself lucky."
and something changes in the way trevor holds himself after he sees iris. you notice it, and courtney does, too. the way he physically disengages with the conversation before quickly removing himself entirely. you don't know what to make of it, and by the way court follows him then looks back with nothing but confusion neither do they.
"what the hell was that?"
"i-…" your brows furrow on their own. "i don't know. do you think he's okay?"
court breathes in quick through their mouth. "i hope so. do you want me to go see?"
you think on it for a moment. "not yet. give him some time to calm down from that first before we bombard him with questions."
courtney seems to agree. but before much more can be said about the situation they hand iris back to you.
"i just remembered that i agrees to help with a pit video! sorry, it's been so nice talking to you and seeing iris. see you both later!"
you chuckle at the panic in their voice, knowing that whoever is directing will be understanding, then adjust iris on your lap. "looks like it's just you and me again."
lunch is going surprisingly well. contrary to her typical behavior iris hasn't once tried to grab any of the food off of your plate despite sitting directly in front of it. but it's probably, at least slightly, because she's spent the entire time focusing on everyone else sat around you. angela, amanda, courtney, chanse, even shayne who pulled a chair up from another table and put it next to courtney, putting him directly in front of you.
and despite scanning the space every fee minutes you've never caught sight of trevor once. until now. you manage to notice the back of him as he disappears behind a wall, so you quickly pass iris to angela who sits to the left of you to get up, mumbling an excuse of having to go to the bathroom somewhere in the hand-office. but angela doesn't put up too much of a fight.
you run to catch up to trevor who, with his much larger stature, is already at the end of the hallway and grabbing a doorknob that he begins to twist.
"hey!"
it's a flipped replay of this morning.
"i'm baby-free, i promise!"
his expression seems to soften as you get closer. "im sorry about earlier. i just… panicked…"
you slow your light jog when you finally reach him. you take a moment to catch your breath, and trevor patiently waits with his hand still on the knob. finally. "how come? if you're okay with me asking."
"it's-… don't worry about it; it's embarrassing. thanks for checking on me, i appreciate it."
trevor turns back to the door and begins twisting again. before you even register that you're doing it your hand shoots forward and grabs his wrist. he looks down at it. awkwardly, you go to open your mouth to say something but come up with nothing, so you simply let your hand fall.
"i'm… i'm sorry. i just wanna make sure you're okay."
trevor remains still for a moment then finally allows his hand to lift from the doorknob with a sigh. he turns to you, solemn. "i am. but i don't wanna make you feel bad about why i rushed off like that, so i figure it's better if i just keep my distance."
your brows furrow at him and you want more than anything to fix it without having to pry deeper. but, unfortunately, you can't. so you clear your throat as quietly as you can. "why would i feel bad."
"because, it's about iris."
you try not to let your face contort too heavily into offense. but based on the way trevor immediately takes another breath in and his eyes go wide you're guessing you failed.
"no, no, not like that! not iris herself! just- because she's- i've always been weird with-"
and suddenly trevor gives up entirely on explaining himself. his voice fell flat near the end, and his face begins to go red just as tears well up on his waterline. once again, without warning, your hand comes up and you take hold of his wrist again. this time, you squeeze, hopefully getting along to trevor that it's okay and that you are nowhere near mad. just curious.
"hey. do you wanna talk about it?"
based on the way he looks to the floor for a moment he wants to do nothing less. but, and you don't know this, the way you look at him, the way your voice went soft, and the way you never let go of him, he knows that he can trust you. can confide in you.
once again, he clears his throat.
"um… when i was a kid, i had a friend, and when we were probably seven or eight his mom had another baby. of course, because we were friends, our parents were kinda friends, so we visited them after they got home from the hospital. and like almost every kid i really wanted to hold the baby. they sat me on the couch, put a blanket and a pillow over my lap, and put the baby down."
he takes a deep breath. there's a hint of wetness behind it. you nod at him.
"i don't remember exactly what happened because i kinda tried to block it from my memory." there's an attempt at a laugh from him. you smile. "but something happened and the baby either ended up on the couch or on the floor. there was a lot of screaming and i know that i started crying, but everything after is pretty blank. so i just… i unofficially decided to never hold another baby again. and now, even being around them makes me nervous because i'm scared that i'm going to hurt them in some way."
and that. your other hand comes up to his other wrist and now the two of you are essentially holding hands while you lean down to try and find his eyes. he let's you succeed.
"trevor. that was not your fault. you were a little kid, you had no idea that that was going to happen. no one did. is it okay if i ask what happened after? was the baby okay?"
he nods. "i'm pretty sure. i was friends with the kid for a another few years after and i remember their sibling being a pretty regular toddler. weird but… not in a way that says the fall had anything to do with it."
that gets a chuckle out of you. and that noticeably calms trevor more. there's a moment of silence when an idea pops into your head.
"what if, trevor, since you have a very understandable fear of holding babies, and i have a baby that hurts herself for a full-time job, we try to get you some exposure therapy?"
before you know it the panic is back in his eyes as well as his voice as he tries to deny the offer. but you decide that you're not going to let him.
"listen, she's not a newborn. she can hold her head up, she can sit up on her own, you'll just be keeping her steady while she looks around. i'll even get spencer to let us use the games stage so that it's just you, me, and iris. huh?"
still, trevor wants to decline, but, again, the sincerity in your voice makes him feel like he can't. so against he better judgment he sighs.
"okay. when?"
"you head to games now. i'll go get iris and let spencer know to keep everyone out. see you in five."
at once the two of you go in separate ways. first you stop and grab iris from angela, no words of even a fake explanation this time. you figure you'd let yourself be the weird one in the office today, get the attention off of trevor. and you're pretty it worked because you can feel every set of eyes following you as you b-line for the games hub. you quickly find spencer at his desk, trying to finish some work over lunch. he looks up to find before before you can make a sound.
"hey," he greets with a smile.
"hey! i'm gonna use games stage for like fifteen minutes; can you make sure everyone stays out? please?"
spencer doesn't respond right away, just stares at you. you're pretty sure every second that passes without words is accidental on his part. he's not quiet on purpose, just can't find any words that are more important than taking in the way you look right now. finally.
"yeah, i'll keep an eye out."
"perfect. thank you!"
without another work you turn on your heel and head back towards games. unknown to you spencer spends the whole time your back in turned to him waving at iris but keeping his eyes on you.
trevor is already on the couch when you slip inside, his eyes focused on iris as you cross the room. you sit next to him with a smile.
"ready?"
and he's definitely not. the way he sighs with his whole face, his cheeks puffing out for a moment. but nevertheless, he nods.
you're pretty sure the speed at which you plant iris on his lap helps break up some of the anxiety he had let bubble up inside. because almost instantly his arms go under her arms and he's adjusting her so that she faces perfectly away from him. but not in a fearful way. in a way of understanding that she's curious. and, just like you had promised earlier, she quickly begins scanning the room from right to left then back to right.
"see," you begin calmly, "you're a natural. kid trevor and slightly over trevor are different. this trevor is entirely capable of holding a baby. he just had to have a little confidence in himself.
trevor nods with his neck craned in an attempt to see irises face. iris seems to notice and turns her own neck until the two gazes connect. a big, gummy smiles comes to her face that trevor gives his own smile in response to. before you know it you're smiling and the room feels physically lighter.
trevor seems to pick up on it, too.
"thank you," he says with a look in your direction.
"of course. i'm glad i could help. that iris could help."
trevor shoots another smile in irises direction. this time, she returns it.
you're one if the last few still stuck in the office, packing iris's stuff back into the bag after she took it all out one-by-one before soon getting tired, leaving it wherever it landed on your desk, then going for something else. having her sit on your lap while you do so definitely isn't making things to any faster, either.
after your third time moving her hand away from the bag you feel the irritation rising and now you vocally scold her, hoping she'll get the memo. she does not. she all but ignores you while reaching back in and pulling something else out. the wrap from this morning. and unlike every item prior, iris is not letting go of this one. her fingers refuse to open as you try to get it from her. then, to add insult to injury, she starts laughing harder and harder the longer it goes on.
you're seconds away from completely giving up when footsteps catch your attention from the right. spencer is walking towards you, hands in his pockets as he tries to keep his focus on anything that isn't you the whole way. like he wants you to think that him coming down this way and bumping into you is pure coincidence and not the goal he had in mind when he left wherever it is he's coming from.
you, entertained, let him think that he's being subtle in his mission by not looking at him so that he can initiate the interaction.
it doesn't take him long.
"oh, hey, you're still here?"
you try to make your sigh sound as natural as you can. "yep. someone got tired of everything she found, so, of course, she had to go back for something more enjoyable and now this is where we're at."
you motion to the entirety of your desk space. spencer fails at hiding his shock. iris, again, ignores your playful digs at her, bu this time, instead of continuing to play with the things in your bag that are not for playing she stares at spencer for a moment then lift her arms out for him. he stalls, locking eyes with you. you chuckle.
"she's spoken. go ahead."
you try not to laugh at how visible his nerves are and how they physically slow him as he leans over to grab under her arms, lifting her out of your lap and onto his front. you quickly take the opportunity to begin repacking everything without interruption. except of course…
"what is this?"
when you look spencer has one end of the wrap held up while his eyes follow the rest of it back to iris's hand.
you roll your eyes at the memory of this morning. "it's a wrap. you fold it around yourself so you can put your baby in it and have free use of your hands. at least, that's what you're supposed to be able to do; i tried it this morning in the parking lot and clearly it didn't go very well."
spencer looks between you and the wrap. "well, i can try to help you with it. it can't be that hard."
you look at him just as you put the last thing in your bag. you can't help the smile. "thanks. i might bring her back in a couple of weeks - daycare closing for renovation - so if you still want to we can try then. i don't wanna do it now when i'm just gonna put her in the car and undo all your hard work."
spencer chuckles. "yeah. i'll be here. whenever you need me."
you try not it let him see what is definitely your eyes shining as tears build up. because you know you can always count on him. you've always been able to for as long as you can remember. you hope it stays that way. "thanks."
reluctantly you stand and take iris back from him, bag hanging off your shoulder. you let her hang on to the wrap.
"i appreciate you holding her so i could get this stuff packed."
"of course. any time."
there's a quiet moment that follows of the two of you just staring. you go back and forth between his curls and his lips, finding something new with each slow saccade. you don't know exactly what he's focused on, but when you switch focal points you always cross gazes with him, if even for a split second.
before you're satisfied you feel your mouth open and the first letter begin in your throat.
"i should get going dinners not gonna cook itself, no matter how much i wish it would."
spencer breathes out a laugh at that. "yeah. see you tomorrow."
you nod then reluctantly begin out of the hub towards the entrance of the building. you're rounding the corner when spencer calls your name. you step back slightly to find him still standing by your desk, hands back in his pockets, eyes still fixed on you.
"i really liked your hair today."
you pause.
"thank you."
and with that you try to get out of the office before he can say anything else. because you know that after the first word you wouldn't hesitate to stay behind for as long as the conversation went on then stop stop at a drive-thru on the way home.
you sit in the driver's seat with your hands on the steering wheel for longer than you realize. the car is still off and iris is still playing with the wrap in her car seat. but you can't clear your mind long enough to start the car and put it in gear. until iris makes a loud noise and your eyes instinctively shoot up to the rearview to make sure she's okay.
she is, little face content in the mirror that's affixed to the front of the headrest.
your hand turns the key as you keep your eyes on her for a second longer. as you finally look away you catch yourself in the reflection. catch your hair in the reflection.
suddenly, for the first time in a long time, it fits. it suits you. it looks good. you like it.
maybe you don't need to dye it.
you put the car in gear and look through the back window, backing out of the parking spot.
hi! would love a spencer agnew x reader sick fic <3
Dayquil and a Cuddle
pairing: Spencer Agnew x fem!reader
summary: A small cold takes you out for the day, but good thing you have your boyfriend by your side
warnings: vague sickness referenced
word count: 1.1k
a/n: sorry for the wait!! I was visiting my sister so this was the only request I manage to write but I am working on the other requests!! Also baby's first request so I hope this is to your liking anon!!
divider: @/saradika-graphics
You don't hear your alarm go off. That's your first sign that something's off. The second sign is when you open your eyes and immediately regret life.
It doesn't take you long to realize you’re sick.
You glance over and see that it's well past 7:00 am, when you were supposed to wake up and instead it's 12:18 pm. Normally you would feel bad waking up this late without sending a message, but your head's so stuffed you can't really find yourself to care right now. You’re about to pull yourself out of bed when the bedroom door opens.
Your vision's a little hazy and you have half a mind to wonder if there's just some random person in the apartment when you quickly realize who it is and simply melt back into bed.
"Hey honey," Spencer murmurs, bending over to press a kiss to your damp temple. "Before you ask, I already texted Emily to let her know you're out for filming today."
Such a shame, you were supposed to film a reddit stories with Arasha today, and your intro was going to be you two roleplaying a couple in desperate need of couples therapy.
You let out a small sound, turning your head to follow his hand as he pets your hair back. "Sick..." you mumble, turning to lay on your side and curl in on yourself.
"Yeah, I figured that out whenever you rolled onto me and I felt how hot you were."
"'m always hot."
Spencer stills for a moment before cracking a small laugh. "You're right honey, you're always hot." He presses another kiss to your temple before pulling away. "I picked up some medicine while I went out to get you something to eat."
"Do I have to?" You mumble but you push yourself up to sit up, while Spencer moves a few pillows behind you for some extra support. He gives you a look and you know it's pointless to try to get out of it, but a girl can try. You let out a groan but mumble a hoarse fine as you two make your way to the living room. You’ve never liked laying in bed when you’re sick, some little habit you’ve kept from childhood, and Spencer's learned over the years of being together how to take care of you when you’re sick.
You make a small sound when he lays you on the couch, reaching out to try to catch his arm but you end up missing and it just flops down to your side. A pout finds its way onto your face but it doesn't last long when he lays an array of kisses against your forehead. Like he was apologizing to you about getting sick when he had no part in you getting sick and instead you were unlucky enough to catch a cold. But hey, you'll never complain about getting kisses.
"I was just gonna get your soup and medicine, honey," he smiles, brushing the stray hairs clinging to your forehead before pulling away and heading to the kitchen, where two bags sit on the counter.
It doesn't take long for him to come back and you’re already glaring at the medicine in his hand. He lets out a small laugh, "honey, I hate to break it to you but you need to take this."
You grumble and let out a groan — that turns into a small coughing fit — before letting him give you the medicine. You grimace and immediately reach for anything to chase that horrible aftertaste.
"Such a baby," Spencer laughs, helping you lay back against the cushions after your long sip of water.
"I'm literally dying and you're making fun of me," you bemoan as you let him lay a cool towel over your forehead. "You're kicking me while I'm already down," you cough and he tugs your blanket over you.
"Okay, why don't you take a nap. The medicine's supposed to make you sleepy," Spencer murmurs, gently rubbing his knuckles over your sternum in that way that always gets you drowsy in no time. You try to argue that you’re definitely not sleepy, that you totally have energy to get some mild chores around the apartment done, but it's all lost in your hoarse mumbles and slowly closing eyes.
It's not long before you’re asleep and Spencer settles nearby with his laptop, a small smile on his face.
You’re only vaguely aware of how the rest of the day goes by. You sort of remember whenever Spencer woke you up for some more medicine and when you ate what you could stomach but everything else was just a little hazy.
It's well into the evening when the stuffiness disappears (or well, most of it) from your head and you manage to shuffle your way out of the living room and into the bedroom, where Spencer had disappeared to take a call. He barely manages to turn before you’re draping yourself over his back, trying to bury your face against the side of his neck.
"Feeling better?" He asks, reaching a hand back to blindly pet your hair. His phone's out of his hand, now on the bed as he turns around and you immediately move closer. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you as you bury your face against his neck again.
"Yeah," you mumble, pushing your face further into his neck, trying to mesh the two of you together. "I think it was just a one day thing." You feel his hand rub your back and you make a small sound from the back of your throat in quiet content.
"We can take tomorrow off just to make sure you're really okay," he murmurs, tucking a stray hair and planting a kiss on your temple.
"Okay, that sounds good." A pause before you mumble, "you already called, didn't you?"
A gentle squeeze to your middle. "Told them you were still down for the count and needed another day."
You tilt your head, just enough to press a kiss to his jaw that lingers. "Sounds fine by me, 'm still sleepy."
"Then off to bed we go," he grins, carrying you the short distance to bed and climbing behind you, curving around you as you tuck yourself against him.
You open your mouth but he stops you, sneaking a quick kiss before his hand slips under your – aka his – shirt. "I love you," he murmurs, a kiss to your forehead this time.
You just grin, wrapping your arms around him. "I love you too."
Thank you for taking care of me.
I always will.
It doesn't take long before your eyes shut, no medicine other than holding the man you love in your arms this time.
Okay hear me out, Spencer Agnew x reader where Spencer is on Reddit stories and talks about his girlfriend and how they worked out an issue that similar to the story in someway and reader later watching the video the next week and being all flustered at the fact that not only did Spencer low-key launched their relationship but also because he said just the sweetest things about her
Give and Take
Spencer Agnew x f!reader
Hurt/comfort, fluff
TW: Breakdowns, vomit talk (animal, not human), typical reddit story douchebag bf, spencer and reader have a difficult but healthy relationship talk, soft launch
“This next story comes from a classic, Am I The Asshole?” Shayne read aloud. Angela grabbed Spencer’s arm as he kept speaking. “Oooh, this one is juicy.”
“Shayne, stop edging us and read the story.”
“Okay, okay, fine.”
“Am I the asshole for going to stay with my sister after getting tired of my boyfriend’s weaponized incompetence?”
“No! Absolutely not!” Angela shouted. “Fuck that man!”
“I, 26 female, have been dating my boyfriend, 28 male, for about two years. We moved in together about nine months ago. The first couple of weeks were great! But as we got into a routine I noticed that he stopped doing chores without me asking. At first, I thought it was fine because he works a job with long hours, but even on his off days I would notice dishes practically living in the sink and the dirt from his boots on the carpet piling up. I work a full-time job too, so I’m not always able to clean up after him.”
“Ugh, girl, dump him, that’s so gross.”
“I think maybe we should finish the whole thing before judging. Maybe they just need to communicate about it.”
“I cannot believe you’re letting this slide Spence.”
“Well let’s see how he responded first and then let’s judge. Then I’ll explain myself.”
Angela huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine.”
“I started to remind him by asking him several times and leaving notes around the house for his days off. I know it’s not fun to have to do chores and that he works a lot, but we only have so many spoons before they get all gross and crusty from sitting in the sink. Whenever I’d ask he’d say he’d ‘do it in a minute’ or he’d ‘get to it later’ before unpausing whatever sports game he was watching. Obviously, you can see where this is going, he would never do it. But since it needed to be done, I would give up waiting after a while and just do it because it was so disgusting. The other day, I finally got fed up and we got in an argument about it, and he claimed he never did anything because he ‘couldn’t do it as well as I did’ and that I ‘always ended up doing it anyway’. It escalated and I told him I was leaving, but I don’t think he believed me until he saw me packing my stuff the next morning. He tried to ask me to stay and said he’d be better, but I know that man and there is no way he’d change, he’s too stubborn for that. I’ve been staying with my sister for about a week and he keeps calling me and sending me pictures of our apartment being the cleanest it’s ever been. But doing it all by myself took a toll on me, and I really doubt this change is permanent. Am I the asshole?”
Spencer sighed deeply. “Angela was right, do not go back to that man.”
She elbowed him. “I told you so. Weaponized incompetence is gross. Men should be able to help around the house without feeling like their masculinity is taking a hit.”
Shayne nodded. “Yeah, Court and I have a list of chores and we each do the ones we like the best and split the gross ones. Like, they like the texture and smell of clean clothes so they do the laundry and I’m kind of specific about how we load the dishwasher so I do the dishes.”
“My only thing against OP though is that maybe she could’ve brought it up earlier though. Like maybe he didn’t know for a while?”
Angela shook her head. “Oh he absolutely knew, they always do.”
“Not necessarily.”
She tilted her head questioningly. “Storytime?”
“Storytime.”
Shayne nodded. “You have the floor Spencer.”
“Okay, so this may or may not be the first time the audience is hearing about her depending on when we put this out, but you guys know that I have a girlfriend and we’ve been dating and living together for a while.”
“Oh yeah, she’s awesome! We’ve been having sleepovers and watching Derry Girls.” Angela stuck out her tongue at Spencer. “I’m stealing your girl.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you tried, she really is awesome, I love her a lot.” He cleared his throat. “But anyway, we had a stretch where we were filming Summer Games and I was extremely busy. Like leaving at 5 am and getting back at 8 pm at the earliest and I was exhausted all the time. She was pretty busy at work too but still picked up my slack, and I thought that it was going okay, I mean, she never complained and let me rest and I was very grateful. But one day I came home at like 11 pm and she was just sitting there, surrounded by laundry, crying over a sock and covered in what I think ended up being tomato sauce and cat vomit.”
Everyone grimaced, faces twisting. Angela said what they were all thinking. “Ew.”
“And of course, I rushed over to her and asked what happened, but all she could do was cry because she was so overwhelmed. So I got her in the shower and her favorite pajamas, then did what I could to clean up. And while I was doing that, I realized something, that I hadn’t asked how she had been doing for at least a week, and she had been carrying not only the weight of her problems, but also all of our shared problems and my exhaustion as well. Also that cleaning our carpet of vomit was harder than I thought.” Everyone on set had gone quiet, listening intently to his story. “We sat down and talked about it once she felt better, and it was really difficult, one of the most difficult things we’d ever had to get through. But the general gist was that she needed to not carry it all herself, and she needed to ask me to do things even if I was exhausted and ended up doing it the next morning instead of that second. It was us versus the issue, not us against each other or one of us flying solo. And I reminded her that no matter how many dishes were in the sink or how many shirts were wrinkled, I loved her more than anything in the world. And I still do.”
A pensive silence settled over the room as they processed his words. Shayne broke it with a small laugh, wiping a tear from his eye. “I didn’t know you were about to get all wise on us Spence.”
He shrugged. “She brings out the best in me, what can I say?”
—--------
The next week, you were working from home, listening to Reddit Stories, partly because you needed some background noise while working on a spreadsheet and partly because you wanted to hear your boyfriend’s voice, when he launched into a story that nearly rocked you to your core.
That night was hard. So hard. You had felt like you were drowning. Your dinner had exploded and Cleo had thrown up everywhere and there were so many socks to sort and you just couldn’t do it any longer. But Spencer knew how to help without putting too much on either of you, and it had taken some of the weight off of your shoulders permanently.
Then you thought harder, and went back to his words. He chose the vomit story to soft launch me? Really? That one? You could think of a million better stories about the two of you to use that didn’t involve you being covered in a feline’s bodily fluids.
You heard the door open and felt a warm weight cover your back.
“I’m mad at you, y’know.”
“Mm, what did I do this time?” He pressed a kiss to your hair as you pointed at your phone, where the familiar pink and yellow logo was paused on the screen.
“There are so many better stories about us to reveal you have a girlfriend to the public.”
“But that one is so poignant.”
You leaned your head back into his chest. “That’s a big word for you. You been reading the dictionary lately?”
“Only when I’m not kissing my beautiful girlfriend.”
“Uh huh. Then are you reading or kissing right now you weirdo?”
He started placing feather-light kisses across your cheeks and the back of your neck in response, making you giggle. He paused for a moment to ask, “Did you really not like it?”
“No, no,” you started to laugh harder as the kisses got more aggressive, “I liked it plenty, that just was not my finest hour.”
He spun your desk chair around, caging you in with his arms. “It wasn’t for me either. But the point was that we got through it together because we were willing to put in the work and talk to each other. It felt right to tell it.”
“I think you did a good job.”
He kissed you on the nose. “I’m going to fold the laundry before the socks cause emotional devastation. Are you still good to make dinner tonight?"
You nodded, pulling him in for a real kiss. “As long as you defend my honor from those socks.”
“Will do.”
A/N: My motivation is slowing and I'm probably going to close requests in about a month (July 20th ish) bc I'm starting my senior year of college soon! Very bittersweet and I'm not prepared to get my ass kicked by classes again (which is why my requests will be closing soon). I will finish all the ones I have on backlog before I reopen them! Some of them have been sitting since May and I feel guilty lol but I have a chronic illness and I am So. Tired. All. The. Time.
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
blakekathryn
gummygunk
jimmyeatworldofficial
