welcome to my blog! this is kinda my main account now and i’m trying to post more fics on here! i’m hayley, bi, 18, a big fan of song fics, obsessed with smosh, and i LOVE spider-man.
my other account is @rekiilysm , which is where i have all my other fics so you can go check those out!
requests are always open but pls bare with me if it takes awhile bc school is always kicking me in the ass LOL
fandoms/people i WILL write for:
💫 marvel, peter parker (any of them), bob reynolds, john walker, bucky barnes—any of the thunderbolts tbh, smosh, spencer agnew, damien haas, ian hecox, and that’s all for now!
rules/taglists:
💫 i do NOT write smut bc i’m not comfy or really good at writing it
💫 like i said, pls bare with me! i’m in college so i try to get to requests as soon as i can <3
💫 if you wanna be added to a taglist of a series just comment on that post or dm me and i’ll gladly add you!!
— synopsis : all it takes is a charity ball, a murder case and a kidnapping for shawn to realise his feelings.
warnings : mentions of kidnapping, murder, blood, guns, cursing, no use of y/n.
authors note : there is a literal drought of shawn fics on this app so i am taking matters into my own hands, let me know if i should write more of him <3
it was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.
shawn was standing near juliets desk as she worked, almost completely tuning him out.
he was flirting with her, again. it wasn’t really a new sight at the santa barbara police department. shawn trying to charm juliet by cracking weird pick up lines or flaunting solving a new case.
it was getting annoying but what bothered you the most was the fact, shawn flirting, putting all that energy for a girl who could care less about romancing with him and ignoring someone who actually had feelings for him.
you hated to admit it but you had feelings for your childhood best friend.
you, shawn and gus grew up together, all of your houses were in the same neighbourhood and all three of you were sorted into same class from kindergarten to sophomore year.
you were unbreakable, that is, until your dad got transferred to the new york branch, the main branch of the company your father worked for, it was a joyous moment except for the fact you had to leave the entire life you had built in santa barbara.
it wasn’t hard at first but slowly as you settled in your new life, you started missing your old life, old school, old friends, gus and mostly shawn.
it took you 2 months to realise what you felt for shawn was more than mere friendship but it was too late, you were already in new york with a complete roadmap to an ivy league.
fast forward, 10 years later after completing your degree, getting a job as an event manager at a big company you requested to be put in the santa barbara branch, so you could see shawn again.
however, when you returned everything was different, henry and maddy divorced, gus was a pharmaceutical salesman, shawn and gus opened a psych detective agency and shawn was head over heels for none other than juliet.
you sighed as you leaned back on one of the pillars in the department, waiting for shawn to finish the endless flirting so you could give him the invites to the gala you were hosting.
out of the corner of your eye you saw gus approaching you, he took notice of your grim expression and followed your line of gaze and saw the not so rare flirting.
gus knew about your affection towards shawn, heck the entire department knew, everyone except for shawn.
he shook his head before coming over to you. “that is the most oblivious guy on the planet.” he said standing beside you.
you didn’t even deny gus’ suspicions because at this point you were just too tired to hide your feelings.
you shrugged at gus and handed him a neat envelope, “here.” gus looked confused so you continued. “the charity gala i am managing for the businessmen this friday night, you and shawn are invited and if he wants—” you looked at shawn, “he can bring a date.”
gus took the envelope and nodded. truth to be told you didn’t want shawn to show up with a date but seeing him look all pathetic while flirting with juliet you suppressed your own feelings to give shawn an opportunity to impress her.
the next few days went in a blur, dealing with the caterers, the decorators and other staff. it was pretty hectic but you were used to it by now.
the clock read 7:00 pm and guests would start coming soon. you checked with the staff to make sure all arrangements are right before going to the hosts and checking in with them.
“mrs. van der woodsoon.” you smiled as you approached the elderly woman. “the arrangements are all in order and we are ready to have guests come in.”
“thank you dear, it wouldn’t have been possible without you.” she gave you a warm smile. “i just can’t seem to find my husband.” she looked around, “would you be so kind and help me look for him?” she asked you, her eyes still searching the halls.
you nodded, “i suppose he went in the kitchen to talk to the chef, i will go look for him there.” you said as you hurried towards the kitchen.
unfortunately, you couldn’t find him there and the guests were starting to come in so you hoped mrs. van der woodson found him and went to tend to the guests.
around 8pm all of the guests had arrived, incluing shawn and gus. you were relieved he came without a date but mentally slapped yourself for thinking like that.
it was almost time for the toast that mr. van der woodson was supposed to give but you couldn’t see him anywhere which was starting to distress you.
“these mini quiches are insane.” shawn laughed, holding a plate of the said dish. “gus try these.” he called out to gus who was busy flirting with one of the guests.
looking at your worried face, shawn put down the plate, “what’s wrong?”
you looked at him briefly making sure hes talking to you, before your eyes drifted to search for the host again. “its mr. van der woodson, i can’t seem to find him.”
shawn looked around the hall, “relax, maybe he went for a bathroom break. the continental food was a little heavy on the stomach.” he joked.
you didn’t spare him a glance as your worries grew more and more. “no shawn, he has been missing since the event started, its unlike for the host to go missing in his own ball.”
“somethings up, i am gonna go check his room.” you said before sprinting up the stairs.
“wait—” shawn shouted but you completely ignored him.
“mr. van der woodson?” you knocked his door. “sir its almost time for the toast.”
when there was no response you pushed the door open and entered his room. “sir?” you called out.
there was no trace of him in the room so you decided to check the bathroom and— “oh. my. god.”
mr. van der woodson lay dead in his own pool of blood in the bathtub.
you heard something drop behind you so you turned around but soon enough you felt something hard hitting you on the back of your head and your vision blackened.
“no, no. you don’t get it man! she said she was gonna check his bedroom 15 minutes ago and shes still not back.” shawn tried to get gus away from the lady he was flirting with.
“shawn—” gus started only to be cut off mid sentence. “she said something was up, and the host was nowhere to be seen the whole evening.” he said his voice laced with concern. “i am gonna go check up there.”
gus excused himself before following his partner, “that floor is only for the staff, you can’t trespass.” he caught up to him, but shawn was already halfway on the stairs.
gus sighed before jumping over the staff only sign and following him.
shawn called out for you, opening doors one by one.
gus was 2 steps behind him, “shawn stop shouting you’re gonna alert the—” when gus entered the master bedroom he saw shawn crouched near the bathroom door with an earring in his hand, your earring, and droplets of blood on the floor.
you opened your eyes slowly adjusting to the surroundings, your head hurt like hell and your whole body felt like it was on fire. where were you?
the last thing you remember was seeing van der woodson’s dead body before blacking out.
you were currently in a dark enclosed area, your feet tied together and your hands tied behind your back. you looked around to find an exit, anything but there was nothing except grey cement walls.
you rested your head on the wall behind you. what the hell happened? this was supposed to be another normal job but your luck would have otherwise.
honestly, why today? why in the same gala you invited your friends to? “this sucks.” you sighed, before lightly closing your eyes.
you opened your eyes again when you heard muffled voices coming from behind the door.
“are you crazy? why did you have to bring her into this?” one of the voice said.
“i had no choice! she saw the dead dude.” the other one said.
“you could’ve have just left her there, now her friends are asking all sorts of questions and one of them is a psychic for gods sake! it’s only a matter of time before they are onto us.”
“what do you want to do now?”
“just kill her and dip, that out only option.”
you eyes widened at their last sentence and you tried wiggling your way out of the restraints. you were starting to panic like crazy, “shit shit shit—” you chanted as you heard the jingle of keys opening the door.
two men, dressed in all black entered the room. you stopped moving and froze in fear. “you’re awake.” one of them said.
“you know, i wish i didn’t have to do this.” he said, taking out his gun.
your eyes widened at the sight. “no, please—”
“it would be..” he put the gun on your temple, tracing it all the way down to your jaw, “such a waste to kill this pretty face.”
you shut your eyes and winced at his words.
“hurry up, someone might catch us.” the one behind said.
“oh shut up.” the man near you turned back, “its your fault shes here in the first place, let me enjoy it a little.”
he turned back to you staring you right in the eyes. “i suppose we could make a deal.” he said. “what do you say?”
you furrowed your brows at that, “what?” your voice was barely above a whisper.
“i wouldn’t kill you.” he pulled back his gun. “if you do me a favour of sorts.” he stood up.
“favour?” you asked, honestly you were just stalling hoping the cops and shawn find you in time, no way in hell you were doing this asshole a favour.
he hummed, deep in thought. the other guy was getting restless, “man—”
“didn’t i say shut up?”
“i’ll do this myself.” he said as he reached for the gun in his partners hand.
it all happened within a second, you had no time to think, he pointed the gun at you while the other man tried to take his weapon back.
you squeezed your eyes shut waiting for the bullet, waiting for all of it to end.
a second passed, then another, and after good 5 seconds you opened your eyes to see the man tackled on the ground by lassiter, juliet right behind him cuffing the other guy.
as soon as shawn spotted you tied up in the corner he came running to your side. “are you okay? are you hurt? what—” he looked at your bleeding forehead and cursed under his breath.
gus followed soon after, quickly untying your restraints. while all of this was happening you were silent, still processing the whole thing.
“hey.” shawn held your face in his hands. “you are okay now.” he assured. “we caught them.”
you looked at shawn, then at gus and then at the two guys in cuffs as lassiter instructed the officers with juliet by his side and then again at shawn and nodded slowly.
shawn sighed before pulling you into a hug. “i am so sorry it took me this long to find you. i thought i almost lost you, i was so scared.” he mumbled in your hair.
you slowly relaxed into the hug and finally coming to back your senses let a few tears slip. shawn comforted you the entire time, rubbing your back with his hand as gus put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
after submitting your report at the police station and comforting words from everyone, you were on your way back to your apartment.
it was nearly morning as the sun was setting in the sky, it was a beautiful view.
“hey!” shawn called out to you. you stopped in your tracks and turned around to see shawn sprinting and stopping right in front of you, “i was hoping to talk to you.” he said, a little out of breath.
“shawn, as i said i am fine, you don’t need to—”
“not about that.” he cut you off. “about something else.”
you looked at him confused, “about what?”
“i— uh” he looked around, before pulling you into a corner. “i had been thinking, ever since the incident that uh—”
you stared at him waiting for him to continue.
“you know what, now that i realise it, it might not be the best time and place to talk about it.” he decided, “why don’t you get some rest and we will talk about it later.” and then started walking away
“shawn, what?” you stammered. “i won’t be able to sleep like this.”
“what? why?” he turned around.
“i will be thinking about what you wanted to say, just come clean so i can get a good sleep.” you looked at him. “i deserve it.”
he sighed, before shaking to take the nervousness out of his body.
“okay…” he started. “i..”
“you..?”
“i thought about it long and hard and talked it out with gus and came to a conclusion.”
“what are you trying to say?”
“when i thought i lost you, i got so scared, like losing my mind scared and at first i thought it was because you are my best friend.” he stopped to take a deep breath.
“but then as the night went on and i couldn’t find you, my concern reached to a peak where i was losing my mind, gus had to slap me to stop me from spiralling.” he chuckled.
you gulped slightly, was this going where you thought it was going?
“the thing is, after i found you i felt an insane relief, the kind of relief you find when you reach the prize at the end of the cereal box, you know? i was never the one to eat the entire contents and wait for the prize at the end, i used to flip the box and claim it…” he straightened his posture. “for the first time in my life i experienced what it was like to wait for it.” he paused, “and i didn’t like it, at all.”
“shawn—”
“please let me finish first.” he stopped you, “i guess i imagined you’d always be here, with us, with me but when you left for new york ten years ago, that made me realise that you wouldn’t always be here. when you left i buried something deep inside, and almost forgot about it, that is, until you came back and it drove me crazy.”
“all those feelings, emotions started surfacing back again so i pushed them aside and kept doing that until last night when they all came rushing back and i decided i couldn’t wait around any longer, i have to tell you that…” you waited for him to finish. “that i might be in love with you.” he let out a breath he’d been holding and looked at you, trying to read your expression.
your face was a mix of shock and something he couldn’t put his finger on. the longer you took to reply, the longer he grew restless.
“you know what—”
“you are so stupid.” you whispered.
he shut his mouth, “what?”
you shook your head, “you are an idiot shawn spencer.”
he nodded his head agreeing with you, “i am pretty sure i am, but why?”
“even a blind person could see that i have been in love with you since forever.”
“well, technically a blind person couldn’t see anything.”
“shawn.” you warned.
“okay, okay, i admit i might have been a little clueless to the whole situation but a long conversation with gus helped me realise a lot of things.” he admitted.
“gus told you about my feelings?” you asked and both of you looked towards gus, who was now running the other way.
“i just want to do this right.” shawn continued. “so after your well deserved rest, i was thinking tomorrow evening at 6 o’clock?” it came out as more of a question.
you smiled and nodded, “6 o’clock” you said before taking your leave.
shawn watched you leave and unconsciously put a hand to his heart, he was a complete goner and all it took was a charity ball (with amazing mini quiches btw), a murder and a kidnapping for him to realise his feelings.
“You ever think maybe…” His voice trailed off. “Maybe in another world, I’m not so unloveable?”
summary : Buck just has to realize he doesn't need another world to find someone that loves as big as him
Buck had dragged himself up the stairs, his footsteps heavy, his breathing matching the rhythm of his thoughts.
Los Angeles was glowing that evening; restaurants were full, and Shift B was on duty while his own team’s day off was about to end.
He’d spent the past two hours sitting at an uncomfortable table — the same one he remembered once being magical, lit by candles — now in front of a cold steak and the hard slap of reality.
Even his relationship with Tommy had ended, leaving a strange emptiness at the pit of his stomach — hollow still, for more reasons than one.
He nodded to his neighbor from the fourth floor, who was heading out for his nightly run with his loyal K9 partner, and kept walking toward his place.
The hallway smelled strongly of floor cleaner — the same one the lady next door used every Thursday — and he could hear her kids laughing, playing right before bedtime.
When he reached his door, he reached into his jacket pocket for his keys, though deep down he already knew the door would be unlocked.
There was no Tommy. And none of the others he’d once loved.
He didn’t have a couch — a testament to his lousy luck in love, and to how his efforts never seemed to be returned.
He stepped inside quietly, dropping his jacket on the rack by the door, right beside the department hoodie that had somehow become a permanent fixture there — even though it was much smaller than his size and smelled different.
“You know, most people need an invitation,” he said, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.
“You gave me one six months ago, Buck. I’ve just been… renewing it indefinitely,” she replied, stirring something in a pot, soft music spreading through the loft.
The firefighter sat down in his armchair, gazing out at the city lights through the large window.
Every so often he sighed while she cooked, wearing those questionable slippers and a hoodie far too big for her, warding off her constant chill.
“I’m pretty sure my rent went up because of you,” he said, tilting his head against the backrest to meet her eyes.
“Worth it. Best view in town — and your fridge is always stocked.”
Buck laughed, arms hanging loose on the sides of the chair. His mind was loud and silent all at once, his stomach reminding him to eat though it felt sealed shut.
She’d made dinner for two, setting everything on the kitchen island before glancing at him, wordlessly inviting him to join her.
“How’d you know I’d eat at home?”
“I didn’t,” she admitted honestly, while he poured them each a glass of water.
As always, she noticed how his humor had faded, the quiet tension sitting in his shoulders, that heaviness he couldn’t quite shake. He toyed with his fork, staring at the roasted potatoes as if they could offer him answers, every small movement betraying the noise inside his head.
And while she waited, silent, patient — letting him open up at his own pace — Buck finally sighed, eyes still down.
“You ever think maybe…” His voice trailed off. “Maybe in another world, I’m not so unloveable?”
“Buck—”
“I mean, I know it’s stupid,” he went on, words spilling faster now, his hands moving as if they could help him explain. “After Tommy, and before that—everything. I keep thinking I’m getting better, that I’m done chasing the wrong people. But sometimes I just…” He gave a quiet, broken laugh. “I still feel like the problem.”
He’d given every part of himself to the people he loved — becoming the best friend, the brother, the support system — while his relationships, inevitably, ended by leaving him empty.
As if each time, he gave the best of himself to people who couldn’t appreciate it, stuck in a loop that never seemed to end, all on top of the chaos that came with his job and his heart.
“You’re not unloveable,” she said, firm and steady. “You just… you keep giving pieces of yourself to people who don’t know what to do with all that heart.”
She knew better than anyone that Buck was the easiest person to love in a world where love had become rare. Not because he shouldered guilt or took on everyone’s burdens, but because he somehow managed to make everything a little brighter — just by smiling.
He had this way of walking into the station, or taking Jee for a walk, or showing up for her on her hardest days, fixing everything with a joke and those impossibly kind blue eyes.
She couldn’t understand how anyone could walk away from that — from him — when all he ever did was love and protect the people he cared about, only to be left believing a lie about himself.
“That’s what people say when they don’t know what else to—”
“No,” she cut him off. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to throw away what’s good about you because a few people couldn’t handle it.”
“You give pieces of yourself to everyone you meet, Buck. You build things for people — literal things, emotional things — and then you act surprised when not everyone knows how to take care of them. That’s not on you. You just… love loudly. Not everyone’s brave enough for that.”
This time, he looked at her — really looked — catching the slight change in her tone, the one that softened just enough to tell him she meant every word.
“You really think that?”
“I know that,” she said, moving closer. Dinner was forgotten now, abandoned on the plates. She stood in front of the firefighter, who even sitting on a stool was still almost taller than her.
She leaned against the island, sleeves pulled down over her hands, dressed in soft long sleeves and what looked unmistakably like pajama pants.
“You think I’d spend half my free time here, drinking all your tea, showing up after every rough day just to see you and your stupid smile, if I thought you were unloveable? You make people feel safe just by being you. Ask Eddie. Ask Chim. Ask Jee. Ask Maddie.”
He wet his lips, trying to absorb the words — to actually believe them. To realize that even if he’d been the constant in his failed relationships, he was never the problem.
“You’re really bad at pep talks, you know that?”
She laughed, shaking her head before pulling him into a hug. His head fell against her chest, her arms wrapping tightly around his broad shoulders as they relaxed under her touch.
They stayed like that for a while — her hands running softly along his back, his mind circling her words, letting them slowly replace Tommy’s.
“You never liked any of them, did you?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.
She remembered every heartbreak, every night she’d shown up afterward — always ready with comfort or celebration, depending on how things went. She’d always known how it would end.
“I tried. Really. But… no. You’ve never found your person in any of them.”
“I swear I wasn’t trying to manufacture their downfall,” she teased, as his hands brushed her sides between the waistband of her pants and the hem of her shirt.
“Sure you weren’t.”
They both laughed, and the silence that followed was full — soft, easy. Buck finally started eating, hunger catching up to him, and for the first time that night, he breathed freely. He moved lightly now — refilling the pitcher, stealing bites from her plate, laughing when she smacked his hand away — falling back into their rhythm, like always.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For seeing me the way you do.”
That night, Buck couldn’t sleep.
He’d asked her to stay, and now lay beside her, watching as she hugged a pillow and kept talking even as sleep tugged at her.
When she finally drifted off — blankets pulled up to her chest, face soft and peaceful — he leaned against the wall behind her, eyes tracing the dim outlines of the photos hung around the room.
Pictures of his travels. Maddie and Jee. The team — faces smeared with soot, or grinning in dress uniforms.
And in one small red frame, a photo his parents had gifted him at Christmas — one of those thoughtless gifts that somehow found their purpose later.
He’d used it months ago, after an elementary school class had visited the station. Before they left, he’d put his helmet on her head — it nearly swallowed her whole — while Chim snapped a picture. Her smile was soft and teasing, eyes peeking out from under the visor too big for her face. She pretended to be unimpressed, but Buck knew she loved that photo almost as much as he loved her.
It was as if that moment had set off a chain reaction — one realization after another — each small thing suddenly meaning more.
He realized how close they’d grown. How well they knew each other.
And maybe, he thought, she was just brave enough to love as big as he did.
She was everywhere — at the station, on nights out with the team, in his home.
Every time she passed by him in a hurry, she’d poke his bicep with her thumb and forefinger — not hard, just a light, teasing touch — and keep walking, smiling to herself.
It was such a small thing, almost friendly, but every time, it short-circuited something inside him. He’d freeze for half a second, staring at a random spot on the truck’s surface, his thoughts spinning out of control.
And after the toughest calls, when they wiped soot from each other’s faces, whispering jokes — you missed a spot — those little moments began to feel instinctive, theirs.
She’d scrunch her nose when he brushed his thumb over her skin, pretending to pull away while he laughed, reaching for her again, her hands pushing him playfully back.
Maddie was the first to notice. She knew that look on her brother’s face better than anyone.
Since announcing her second pregnancy, Maddie often had help from her — playing with Jee, keeping her company on quiet afternoons.
Buck and she would join the Hans for lunch on weekends, bringing trays of food and warm energy into the house, always ending in laughter and hugs before the oven timer went off.
And Maddie had seen it — the way her brother looked at her that day when she hoisted Jee onto her shoulders, the child laughing loudly enough to fill the kitchen.
Maddie had always known they wouldn’t stay “just friends.” The way he held her waist, the way she looked at him — it was all there.
But she’d never seen them look at each other like that before.
“You’re staring,” Maddie said, resting a hand on her belly, then looping her arm around his waist.
Jee was touching the freckles on her nose with the utmost focus, making her laugh and tilt her head back.
“Am I?” Buck asked, rubbing the back of his neck just as Chim walked in from the yard, covered in dirt, announcing that the shower was now officially occupied.
“Mhm,” Maddie smirked. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The I just realized I’m in love with my best friend look. It runs in the family.”
Light bounced off Jee’s dark hair as she played with her “aunt’s” jaw, chattering away about her latest story — one that, as usual, starred Uncle Buck as a knight in armor and her as the princess who always got her happy ending with the firefighter.
At lunch, Jee insisted on sitting between them, listening to the grown-ups talk before emptying their pockets for entertainment — pretending to unlock imaginary doors with Buck’s keys, or paying for tea with his credit card, or starting her “shift” with the ID badge she borrowed from her aunt — the same one Maddie could swear Buck kept a copy of in his wallet.
Later, as everyone gathered around the table — Hen and Karen bickering over who’d brought the better wine, Maddie directing from the kitchen, Chim joking from the couch — she stood there with a dish towel over her shoulder, following instructions and laughing along, right until she saw him walk in.
Buck always brought flowers — a bouquet for Maddie, and two tiny blossoms he’d tuck behind Jee’s ear and hers.
“There he is,” Chim called out. “The man who shows up just in time to eat.”
Buck grinned, peeking at the dishes. “I bring my appetite — it’s a valuable contribution.”
“You’re lucky you’re charming,” Maddie teased, as the girl pretended to scold him for nearly spilling the wine.
Later, while washing the dishes, she caught herself watching the tattoos that curled along his strong arms, and he caught himself watching her watching him.
Buck felt calm, grounded — something Chim liked to call the effect of a patient woman and a full stomach.
For the first time, watching her fill his loft with the smell of flour and old music, or fall asleep curled up on the couch beside him — talking even in her dreams — he realized he didn’t need to wait for someone to love him back.
He bought a couch.
Just so she could read on it, wearing one of his hoodies, gazing at her favorite view — the one she swore was the best in the city — the one she’d helped him turn into home.
Weeks blurred together, marked by those small, sweet things that built their world — the goodnights over the phone, the shared breakfasts, the complaints about folding her laundry mixed with his.
Everything had clicked, and he couldn’t unsee it anymore.
One evening, she fell asleep on that same couch. When he got home from Hen’s, after helping with some handiwork, he leaned down and brushed a hand through her hair.
“Hey,” she mumbled sleepily, a tiny smile forming. “You’re home.”
“I was late, I know,” he said softly.
“You okay?”
“I am now,” he murmured, fingers threading gently through her hair.
“Good,” she whispered, eyes fluttering shut again.
Buck lifted her easily, her head falling against his chest as he carried her upstairs, his heart slowing — full, calm, finally quiet. No more heavy steps up the stairs after bad dates. No more wondering if he was unloveable.
“I love you,” he murmured drowsily as he tucked her in. “Big. Insanely big.”
“You know I could’ve walked just fine, right?” she added, half-asleep.
“I know you couldn’t have,” he teased softly, shaking his head.
He didn’t need another world to feel worthy of love.
This one was enough.
And it was so beautifully, painfully real.
Buck, my beloved. As you may have noticed I put on private many posts, as I tried to take some fics out of my blog in order to accomodate my overly critic personality lol, and the first one about this goofball of a man is one of them. I really hope you like this one!
oh, and let's be real, that man didn't know what to do with all this...
summary: when coach tells people the room requirements and the 'no sexual perversions perpetrated' rule by the so-called 'little deviants', it only makes the couple want to break that rule even more.
stiles stilinski x fem!reader (no smut sorry babies)
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
You were nestled into your boyfriend's neck, the soft flannel material brushing against your cheek and the scent you knew all too well, all of the senses could have made your eyes flutter back closed. You felt a small nudge on your shoulder, groaning and shrugging off the contact, you decided to ignore Stiles’ silent request for you to lift your head up.
It wasn’t until you felt his warm touch brush the hair that had fallen in front of your face away and the palm of his hand stroke your cheekbone, you pulled away from his contact and looked up at him.
His brown eyes looked into your own and he smiled softly at you. He couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on. He couldn’t believe he was going out with someone like you. You were beautiful in and out, hence his gut-wrenching crush he’s had on you since the 3rd grade. After long years of pining and certain dreams, he couldn’t thank the supernatural world for existing more as he finally got a chance with you; and boy, did he take it.
At the beginning of your relationship, Scott thought Stiles was joking when he said he kissed you, and you actually kissed him back. He just laughed, patted him on the shoulder and moved on with the subject.
“No, Scott! I’m not kidding.” Stiles said, almost offended. But then he sobered his thoughts and kind of understood Scott because it had taken him 3 hours after your kiss to finally process that he had grown the balls to do that, and apparently you liked it too.
Scott paused momentarily, “Neither am I Stiles, we need to focus on--” Stiles sighed dramatically and flailed his arms around in desperation. Scott paused mid-sentence, tilted his head and waited for his best friend to continue.
“Scott, I kissed her. Like, I actually kissed her!” Stiles smiled widely. Scott remained unconvinced, blinking slowly and scrunched his brows. “You know, when you put your lips on someone else's--”
“Yes, Stiles! I know what kissing is!” The werewolf exasperated, he shook his head. “I just don’t believe it was with her. Y/N? Head cheerleader, popular, smart, way out of your league Y/N?”
“You better believe it, Scotty.” Stiles patted his hand rhythmically on Scott’s back as he began to walk away, intending to walk to his beautiful girlfriend's house.
Scott grabbed onto Stiles’ flannel and yanked him back for more details, “You mean ‘I’ve had a crush on her since 3rd grade, I wish she would look my way and we would get married and have kids’ Y/N?” Scott grew a proud smile the more he said, knowing how down bad his best friend was for this girl.
Stiles nodded frantically and adjusted his flannel, “And she actually kissed you back?” Scott questioned. “Scott, I think 3rd grade me died a little bit when she held my hand, let alone kiss me back.” Stiles jokes.
The two boys looked at each other before high fiving and doing their ‘bro-hug’. Scott congratulated the boy, not hiding his pure excitement for his friend; borderline jumping for joy. The boys gushed over the new relationship for a few more minutes before Stiles snapped out of it and ran out the room, shouting behind him saying he had to get back to his girlfriend who was waiting for him. Scott doing a subtle fist pump as Stiles turned his back.
“Wake up, baby,” He whispered, not wanting to disturb you too much as you wiped the grogginess and sleep off your face. You looked at your surroundings, “We here?”
Stiles looked out the window of the bus, eye twitching at the surroundings. “Not quite…”
The motel looked uncomfortable, old and just overall, definitely violating hundreds of safety codes. The poor attempt at the neon lights brightened up the place in the darkness outside, but did little to make the atmosphere any more homely. But he knew it would be fine for one night, as long as you were by his side the entire night.
Everyone began piling out of the bus, a couple of your friends passing you and giving you two a wink as they noticed the state you and your boyfriend were in; cuddled up close, hands intertwined and Stiles admiring you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. Even in this messed up supernatural world, Stiles found beauty in the horror; and that was you.
Stiles helped you off the bus, his hands never leaving you. He slung an arm around your waist as you stepped onto the concrete and became aware of your surroundings.
It was clear you had the same initial thoughts as Stiles as he read your body language. He rubbed his thumb on the skin between your top and the jeans that hugged your figure, leaning in and kissing the top of your forehead.
As you walked towards your friends and addressed Lydia’s discomfort at the Motel, Stiles had sneaked behind you and hugged you from behind. He rested his head on top of yours and you leaned back into his chest; his arms were locked around your front and you rested your hands on top of his, sighing into the contact.
It felt like you were in a dream, you never wanted to leave this comfortability with Stiles, he was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.
The Coach’s whistle broke you out of your bliss, snapping your attention to him as he turned away from the Motel and faced the angsty teenagers.
“Listen up. The meet’s been pushed till tomorrow.” You groaned quietly and nestled backwards into Stiles’ chest, he smiled at you. “This is the closest Motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates such as yourselves.”
You would protest Coach’s point, but he was completely correct, actually. Who the hell would want 20 odd, hormonal teenagers who definitely have questionable things packed in their bags to stay in your Motel?
“Now, you’ll be pairing up. Choose wisely.”
You and Stiles look at each other, untangling yourself from his hold and intertwining your hands. You pulled him over to the Coach, not seeing Scott raise his brows at Stiles’ smirking face at the idea of spending a night with you in your own room, no parental interruptions, no supernatural; just a boyfriend and girlfriend in each other's company.
Coach noticed the two of you approaching like a couple on their honeymoon and felt the need to clarify something.
“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants, got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!” He shouted, looking directly at you. “Especially you, Stilinski and Y/L/N!”
You two dropped your hands expectantly, reluctantly taking a key for different rooms. The boy sighed at you and leaned in to kiss you before you departed over to Lydia and Alisson.
The sound of the Coach’s whistle made you two jump apart before your lips touched. “What did I just say!” Stiles went to protest, “I don’t wanna hear it! Get out of here!”
Stiles groaned and turned away to room with Scott, you loitered back for a moment, just in time to hear the Coach say, “How he managed to get you to go out with him… I’ll never know.” You chuckled to yourself and roomed with your friends.
It had been an hour since you got to your room and settled in, kicking back and chatting to the girls for a while until they decided to shower and get themselves ready for bed. You had begun to set up until you got a message from Stiles.
Stiles: come to my room please i miss you
You smiled at his message, missing him too. And typed out a response.
You: i can’t the girls will see i’ve gone somewhere :((((
Stiles: you’ll be back before they’ve noticed you’re gone i promise
Stiles: baby?
Stiles was typing out more questions, and thinking of other ways to convince you to come over as Scott had left the room to explore the Motel more.
He was confused by your silence until he heard a knock at the door. He stood up, expecting it to be Scott but was braced by your beautiful face as he swung the door open.
He smiled, looking you up and down before tugging you into the room. He kicked the door behind him as he twisted your bodies so your back was facing the room.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you messed with the hair at the nape of his neck, drinking in his appearance and licking your lips. “I missed you, baby.” He groaned in the sexiest voice you think you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “I missed you, too.” You chuckled before connecting your lips.
He leaned into your body as his lips pressed into yours, subtly sneaking his tongue into your mouth. His hands snuck around to your back and held your body against his own, feeling every crevice and worshipping them. His hands explored your back, itching closer as he murmured for you to jump into him.
You obliged and wrapped your legs around his waist, he caught you by planting his hands on your ass. He smiled into his kiss and found himself growing more desperate for you as each second passed.
Your hands tangled in his hair and tugged at it as he walked the pair of you to the rickety bed situated in the middle of the room. He gently placed you on the bed and leaned on top of you, finding himself comfortable in between your legs.
The kiss grew more erratic as it went on, hotter and hands wandering. Stiles slipped his hands underneath your top and began to lift it over your head.
You stopped him suddenly and he pulled back, his face coated in your lipgloss and his hair a mess; God, he looked good.
“What? Did I do something wrong?” He panicked. You smiled and placed your hands on his face. “No, baby. Just don’t want Scott to walk in on us.” You confessed.
Stiles shook his head, “He won’t be back for ages…” He whispered and leaned back in to kiss your neck, sucking at your sweet spots that made your back arch. You sighed as his tongue worked wonders.
Stiles noticed you weren’t fully convinced and jumped off the bed, leaving you stranded. You were confused momentarily until he snatched something out of the bedside drawer, and opened the room door, hooking it on the handle and turning back to you.
“Just to be sure.” He winked and situated himself back between your legs and lifted your shirt over your head this time.
The room became hotter with each second, steam practically coating the walls; as the room door held up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with pride.
Your stay with Stiles was much more prolonged than you had intended, your clothes now back on your body a little misshapen but the thought that was there.
You skipped back to your Motel room and quietly pushed open the door at this late hour, knowing Lydia and Alisson were probably curled up in bed at this time.
Kicking off your shoes, you snuck into the room and breathed a sigh of relief that the girls hadn’t had their suspicions about your disappearance, obviously feeling content enough to go to sleep with no nerves.
You turned on the bedside lamp to see where you were going and jumped at the sight of Lydia and Alisson wide awake and leaning on the headboard of their shared bed, staring right at you with raised eyebrows and a subtle smirk.
Alisson tilted her head, “So, where were you?” She questioned.
You stuttered for a moment, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “I was just… at the vending machine. Stupid things sucked up my money.” You fake chuckled.
Lydia hummed, “Yeah, it took you 3 hours…”
You could practically feel a bead of sweat dripping down your forehead, “Yeah, I had a lot of trouble with it… Anyway, I’m heading to bed-”
“I didn’t know vending machines give you hickeys.” Alisson said, making you freeze and pale.
You opened your mouth but no words came out, “And it has nothing to do with the fact that Scott tried to get back to his room but the sound of moaning probably stopped him from going into the hot box.” Lydia smirked.
You quite literally had no words, “Shit.” You murmured.
Alisson giggled at you, "You realise Coach is gonna kill you two, especially Stiles." You groaned loudly.
The two girls chuckled at you and invited you into their huddle, only insisting you showered first. You laughed along with them and jumped into them, “At least someone had fun on this God awful trip.” Lydia smiled at you before you whacked her with the pillow you were previously leaning on.
Summary: You like Shawn, but he's oblivious to your feelings as he flirts with Juliet. After Henry and Lassie see the impact Shawn has on you, they come up with a plan to show Shawn how blind he's been.
Warnings/Word Count: angst, fluff/comfort, Henry and Lassie are grumpy matchmakers, banter; 1.5k+ words, requested by anonymous
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Every time you show the sketch to the woman sitting across from you, she finds something wrong with it.
“Okay,” you murmur. “What did his nose look like?”
“Well, I didn’t see it,” she snaps. “I’ve been traumatized. Have you no compassion?”
Not for much longer, you think, feeling your patience slip. Instead of voicing that, you smile and apologize. “If you didn’t see his nose, what makes you think this is wrong?”
She sighs, a long, heavy exhale that makes it seem like you have done something wrong. Then, someone knocks on the door. You’re so relieved to see Lassie that you have half a mind to hug him. Honestly, he’d probably allow it since you’re in a part of the station that few people venture to and no one would see, but that’s not the point.
“Need your help,” Lassie says.
“Sure,” you agree, setting your sketch pad on the table before you stand.
“And what of me?” the woman shrieks. “Am I to-“
“An officer will be right in,” Lassie interrupts. “Try to compose yourself before the news arrives.”
At the word news, the woman begins digging in her overpriced handbag and doesn’t say another word as you follow Lassie into the hall.
“The news?” you question. “For a robbery case.”
Lassie glances at you but doesn’t reply. You don’t know when – or how – you became so close to Lassie. You wouldn’t change it for the world.
Walking into Chief Vick’s office, you’re surprised to see Shawn and Gus lying on the table in the corner. Your brows furrow as you move to stand behind Henry, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Hey, kid,” he greets softly.
You nod in reply, then link your fingers behind your back. Watching Shawn, you don’t notice the look Lassie and Henry share. Despite how good you think you are at remaining impassive, the two detectives bracketing you like security guards have noticed that something is off. It’s been weeks, yet they haven’t been able to pinpoint what is bothering you. Luckily, they’re both perceptive enough to know not to ask.
“The key is under the mat,” Shawn groans. He throws his left arm over his chest, hitting Gus in the face in the process.
Your lips quirk up as Shawn embraces the psychic vision. Shawn is a force, and one that constantly affects you. No matter how fast your heart beats in his presence or how often your breath catches when he smiles at you, you’ve never acted on the feelings you have for him. More, you haven’t mentioned to anyone that you’re falling for Santa Barbara’s best psychic detective. It’s not worth the risk of losing what you’ve built here.
“How do you still look like that?” you wonder, tipping your head toward your shoulder.
“Excuse me?” Lassie deadpans.
“Three creams, four sugars. You drink that every day?”
“That’s too much sugar,” Henry agrees.
“Exactly!” you exclaim. “Yet he still looks decent. It’s unfair, really.”
“Decent,” Lassie mumbles under his breath. “That kind of flattery will get you in trouble with the chief.”
You laugh as you back away from his desk, preparing to return to your secluded corner of the station. Shawn is leaning against a pillar, waving when he sees you. As you lift your hand to return the greeting, he pushes off the pillar to intercept Juliet.
Mere feet away from you, Shawn smiles at Juliet, then asks, “Are you currently feeling like a person, a princess, or a Greek goddess? I can meet you wherever you are, Jules.”
Pressing your lips together, you glance at the floor. Hurt pinches at your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you rush around Shawn and Juliet, the rest of their conversation little more than undiscernible mumbles as your heart pounds in your ears.
I never stood a chance, you tell yourself as you reach your office. So why does it still hurt?
Back in the bullpen, Lassie cracks his neck, then steps forward. He and Henry witnessed everything; they watched as your shoulders dropped, as if you had deflated, when Shawn flirted with Juliet.
Before Lassie can get too far, Henry throws his arm out to block his chest.
“I’m going to kill him,” Lassie seethes. “I know he’s your son, but-“
“He’s an idiot,” Henry interrupts. “But fighting for her honor isn’t going to do anything, Carlton.”
“Is he really that blind?”
Henry takes a deep breath, looking at Shawn, who is now staring down the hall you rushed into. “I have a plan,” he begins.
Lassie invited you to get dinner with him. You’re more than a little suspicious as you enter the restaurant, but maybe you’re finally making progress toward being true friends.
“Good evening,” the hostess greets. “How many?”
“I’m actually meeting someone,” you reply. “Last name is Lassiter?”
She clicks a tablet behind the podium, then nods. “Follow me,” she invites.
Apparently, Lassie is running late, because the table is empty when you sit down.
“This is ridiculous,” Shawn groans into his phone. “Gus, I don’t want to get dinner with my dad.”
“It’ll be an hour, Shawn,” Gus replies.
“An hour of misery.”
“It’s free food.”
Shawn hesitates before conceding, “You have a point.”
He ends the call and enters the restaurant. As he’s led to the table where his dad is supposed to be, his observant genes kick in. Whoever is at the table isn’t Henry Spencer.
“Hi,” Shawn greets, sinking into the seat across from you.
You lick your lips, then realize, “Lassie set me up.”
“Don’t,” Henry warns as he pulls a pair of binoculars from his backpack.
Lassie narrows his eyes but doesn’t speak. You’re still inside even after Shawn’s arrival, so maybe it’s going okay.
Shawn has been talking about an item on the menu for a solid three minutes. You, however, are looking down at your hands in your lap. This is weird. Shawn likes Juliet, you like Shawn, and you’re at dinner together. Whatever Lassie was trying to do wasn’t planned very well, you think.
Shawn slows, looking away from the menu. He’s perceptive; he knows that something is going on. Yet, he’s just oblivious enough not to realize that he is the reason for all of it.
“Are you okay?” Shawn asks suddenly, interrupting himself mid-sentence about an ‘all meat burrito.’
“I’m fine,” you reply softly.
Your shoulders draw up toward your ears, betraying what you say by showing what you feel. You move your hands to the table, toying with the napkin rather than picking at your skin.
“Did something happen?” Shawn tries.
“No. How’s the case?”
Shawn reaches across the table and takes your hands before you even realize he’s moved. His thumbs brush across your knuckles as he dips his chin, trying to meet your eyes.
“I’m sensing that something did happen,” he mutters.
You smile at that because if Shawn really is a psychic, he’s a bad one. He can’t even sense that you have a crush on him, and it breaks your heart to see him flirt with Juliet.
“I have an idea,” he continues.
“That’s terrifying,” you murmur.
“You’ve been hanging out with Lassie for too long. Anyway, my idea is that I tell you a secret and then you tell me what happened.”
“That’s-“
Shawn interrupts you, his thumbs still moving across your skin and leaving a burning yet comforting ache in their wake.
“I’m falling for someone I work with,” Shawn whispers.
Finally, you look up at him with pinched brows. “That’s not a secret.”
“It’s not?”
Shawn looks genuinely surprised, and you can’t stop the smile that grows.
“No,” you answer. “Everyone knows you like Juliet.”
“Jules?” he questions. “I don’t like Jules. Not like that.”
Your jaw drops, but you can’t ask the question racing through your mind before Shawn speaks again.
“I like you.”
The restaurant silences. It’s as if you and Shawn are the only people in the state of California.
“You- you never… You’ve never acted like that’s true,” you murmur.
“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same,” Shawn explains. He leans over the table like he’s trying to get closer to you. “Jules flirts back because it doesn’t mean anything.”
“You thought I didn’t feel the same.”
Shawn shrugs, and you roll your eyes.
“You’re a really bad psychic,” you respond, smiling as you move closer to the table.
“I can’t see anything,” Henry complains.
“It’s been an hour,” Lassie points out. “Shawn’s bike is still here, so they didn’t leave.”
“That’s not necessarily a good thing.”
Lassie wants to argue, but the door of the restaurant opens, and he’s distracted from their conversation.
“Finally,” Henry sighs when you walk out, Shawn’s arm secure around you as you smile at him.
Lassie starts his car and pulls away, groaning when Henry realizes he’s hungry.
“Lassie and my dad are across the street,” Shawn murmurs when you step outside.
“Well, what kind of matchmakers would they be if they didn’t stick around?” you counter.
Shawn’s eyes drop to your lips. He doesn’t even bother to hide it before he drags his finger along your jaw. “I’m sensing something else.”
“We’ve already established what kind of psychic you are,” you joke softly.
“A bad one,” Shawn agrees.
“Really bad.”
“The worst.”
Yet, he knows exactly what you want and doesn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss you.
Summary: When Shayne unknowingly reads a Reddit post you wrote years ago about being in love with your coworker, Spencer begins to recognize the details—and suddenly, the secret you’ve kept for years isn’t so secret anymore.
The studio was a tangle of cables and warm light. There was a soft hum from the overhead rigs, the low hiss of air-conditioning, the faint smell of coffee and doughnuts someone had left by the soundboard. You’d been sitting on the couch for nearly an hour, breezing through outrageous confessions and weird family drama, and laughing until your cheeks hurt.
Shayne slumped dramatically in his chair and waved the iPad like a game show host. “Alright, people. Second to last one. Then we’re free to go forage for snacks.”
You tipped your head toward Spencer and whispered just loud enough for the mic to catch, “Do you think they still have the good granola bars?”
Spencer smirked without looking at you. “The lemon ones? I think Shayne ate the last of those last week.”
Camera Two’s red light blinked on. The rhythm of the show — smiles, banter, crisp lines for the edit — settled over you like a costume.
Shayne scrolled theatrically, milking the suspense. “This one’s from Relationship Advice. Thirty thousand upvotes. Title reads…” He held for dramatic effect. “I (30F) have been in love with my coworker (32M) for years but can’t tell him because of our job. What should I do?”
Your stomach dropped so suddenly it was like missing a step on the stairs.
The mic picked up Spencer’s low whistle. “Ooooh, spicy.” He leaned into the camera, half-grinning. “Office romance alert.”
You managed a smile, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch to keep your hands from trembling. You’d written that title two years ago, in the middle of a winter night, after another day of sitting across from Spencer and thinking you’d burst if you didn’t tell someone. You’d been so careful — vague wording, anonymous throwaway, nothing overt — and yet now, hearing it aloud, it felt like a spotlight.
Shayne cleared his throat and began to read.
“Hi Reddit, throwaway for obvious reasons. I work at a small-ish but very tight-knit creative company where the vibe is part office, part improv comedy. I’ve been there a little over a year, and one of my main jobs is to help produce and appear in our video segments. Because of the nature of the work, my coworkers and I spend a lot of time together both on and off camera, and the lines can get blurry.”
The words blurred. You’d written them in a haze of desperation and wondering if Spencer could tell that when you looked at him you were falling apart at the seams. You remembered crafting every line carefully, taking out anything that could directly name him but leaving the memories intact — the hoodie, the inside jokes, the snacks during shoots. At the time it had felt anonymous. Now, hearing Shayne read it, it sounded like a neon sign.
“Here’s the problem: I’m falling for one of my coworkers. Let’s call him S. S and I are on the same projects constantly,” Shayne read. “He’s my favorite person there. He’s funny in a quiet way, unbelievably thoughtful, and has this dorky half-smile he does whenever he’s trying not to laugh on camera. He always notices when I’m stressed and rubs his thumb on my hand, he’ll slide me snacks during shoots, and make sure to adjust the camera so I’m in the center of the frame…”
Spencer chuckled low in his throat. “Wow, sounds like OP’s coworker’s a keeper.” He flicked a glance at you, quick and playful.
You returned the look with a conspiratorial smile. “Maybe it’s you, Shayne. You’re the real saint here.”
Shayne grinned at the camera. “Imagine if this is how I find out Courtney has feelings for me. Like, I’m just reading a post, and BAM — my life’s a romcom.” He mimed an explosion with his hands.
The audience would eat it up later in the edit. But Spencer’s laugh came slower this time, almost distracted. His eyes lingered on you for a fraction too long, as if he were replaying some of the details in his head.
Shaybe kept reading. “…We’ve built this unspoken rhythm while filming — little side glances, finishing each other’s bits, tiny moments no one else seems to notice. It’s the highlight of my day but also torture because I don’t know how he feels.
You sat perfectly still, heart hammering. Smile for the camera. Nod along. Pretend it’s funny. The warmth from the studio lights had turned clammy on your skin.
Spencer’s voice cut in softly. “Yeah, OP should just… talk to him.” He gestured vaguely at Shayne, but his eyes didn’t leave you.
“Classic internet advice,” you said brightly, hoping your voice didn’t crack. “Just communicate. Easy, right?”
Shayne laughed. “Peak sitcom energy.”
You tried to laugh with him, but your voice snagged on the edge, coming out too high.
Spencer noticed. His smile softened; the corners of his mouth eased into something that looked like a question. He watched you a second longer than necessary, brow creasing ever so slightly, as if he’d felt the ground shift under him but couldn’t yet see why.
You straightened your shoulders, locked your gaze on Shanye, and kept your smile pinned in place. Inside, you were screaming. On the outside, you were still the Reddit Stories guest, still smiling for the cameras.
“Hang on, there’s more!” Shayne scrolled theatrically. “We even have a running joke about the cursed edit bay, where all footage goes to die…”
Your stomach lurched again. That was your joke — yours and Spencer’s, birthed in that week of hard drive disasters when you were both surviving on vending machine pretzels and dark humor. You felt the ghost of that memory press against you, sharp and immediate.
Out of the corner of your eye, Spencer’s mouth twitched, his brow creasing before smoothing over into his practiced on-camera face. To anyone else it looked like nothing. To you, it was a giant waving flag.
He’d recognized it too.
Shayne kept reading: “He always saves me the last lemon granola bar because he knows it’s my favorite. Last winter, during a shoot, he draped his hoodie over my shoulders because I was shivering on set, and my heart almost burst.”
You held your breath. You could almost feel the fabric of that hoodie again, soft against your arms, still smelling faintly of detergent and Spencer’s cologne.
Spencer’s chuckle came late this time, a quiet little exhale. “That’s… very specific.”
You pasted on a smile. “Reddit loves details.” But your voice was too light, your hands folded too tightly in your lap.
Shayne didn’t notice your small interaction and read on.
“Our company culture is small and very public. If I confess and it goes badly, I could ruin our dynamic, our on-camera chemistry, and possibly my job.
“We’ve never crossed any obvious lines, but there are moments. When we’re on camera, he’ll sometimes glance at me right before a punchline, like we’re in on the joke together. He’ll wait for me to end a shoot just so we can eat lunch together. And he’ll bring me my coffee order on early morning shoot days.
“I’ve kept this to myself for so long. I don’t want to risk our friendship, but it’s starting to hurt. I’ve thought about leaving the company just so I can finally tell him. I’m terrified of making things weird, but also terrified of never finding out if he feels the same way.
“Has anyone else been in a situation like this at work? Is it better to just say it, or let it go?
“Thanks for reading — please be kind.”
Shayne leaned in toward camera one, selling the story. “This is the slowest burn in internet history. Kiss already!” He shot you and Spencer a theatrical look. “You two ever seen tension like this?”
You laughed. Hard. “Oh not at all. I don’t believe in office romances.”
“Wow!” Spencer jumped to tease you. “Way to diss on Shayne and Courtney’s marriage. She hates you, man.”
Shayne laughed at the panicked look on your face as you tried to take back your statement. Spencer didn’t let you.
“Come on, you at least know what that kind of tension feels like, right?” Spencer asked the room, but his eyes were on you.
“Never ever,” You denied again. Spencer raised an eyebrow. Shanye started giving advice based off of his over personal office slow burn.
You and Spencer traded a glance — yours jittery, his weighted. He tilted his head just slightly, as if to say you okay? You forced half a smile. He gave you the barest quirk of his mouth back. The air between you felt denser than it had ten minutes ago.
The camera operator called for a quick pause to swap a memory card. The crew drifted in and out of the studio, refilling mugs and checking cables. You ducked your head under the pretext of checking your phone but mostly to break eye contact.
Spencer leaned closer, voice pitched low. “Hey.” His tone was casual, but his eyes searched your face. “Those details were… kind of specific, don’t you think?”
Your throat went dry. “Reddit’s a small world,” you said quickly. “Everyone hates a cursed edit bay.”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “Right. And everyone’s favorite snack is lemon granola bars?” His voice was soft but laced with quiet amusement.
You tried for a laugh but it cracked. “You think I wrote it?”
“I didn’t say that.” His gaze held yours a beat longer, steady but not unkind. Then he smiled faintly — a tiny, private smile meant only for you — and looked back at his phone as if nothing had happened.
Across the set Shayne asked, “You two doing okay over there?”
“We’re fine,” you called back, but you felt like every cell in your body was buzzing.
Spencer only smiled at the tabletop, thumb circling the lip of his water bottle in slow little arcs, as if he were thinking something over.
When filming resumed, the energy had shifted. Shayne was still his usual self — cracking jokes, mugging for camera two — but Spencer had quietly moved himself a little closer to you on the couch. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that you felt the warmth of his arm near yours.
He passed a cold water bottle to you without a word. His fingers brushed yours — a fleeting touch, but it jolted through you like a live wire.
“Thanks,” you murmured, trying not to let your voice tremble.
“Anytime,” he said lightly, eyes flicking to yours for a split second before focusing back on Shayne.
During the next story, Spencer leaned in to see a picture on the iPad, his shoulder grazing yours. The contact was casual enough for cameras, but you felt it like gravity, like a tether. You could smell his cologne, faint cedar and citrus, threaded through the hum of studio air.
You kept your on-camera smile plastered on, but your pulse was hammering. Every micro-expression, every stolen glance felt amplified under the hot lights. It wasn’t just you anymore — Spencer’s joking tone had faltered too. His comments were shorter, his laugh quieter, as though he was splitting his attention between the story in front of him and the realization unfurling behind his eyes.
At one point Shayne cracked a joke and you and Spencer turned to each other at the same moment, both grinning in reflex. For a heartbeat you were caught, faces inches apart, smiling like conspirators. His gaze flicked down to your mouth and back up before he leaned back, rubbing at his jaw as though nothing had happened.
From the outside, nothing had changed: three coworkers reading Reddit posts. But in the small private space between you and Spencer, something had shifted unmistakably — a new current, a silent acknowledgment, a growing question neither of you had the courage to voice yet.
The final “cut” from the director wasn’t loud — just a tired clap and a murmured “that’s a wrap” — but it echoed in your chest like a starting pistol. The overhead lights dimmed to their standby glow. Crew members drifted across the set, rolling cables, shutting down monitors, peeling off their headsets. The entire room seemed to exhale.
You stayed seated for a beat longer than usual, hands resting in your lap, pulse still stuttering from the last hour. All your instincts screamed to get up, grab your bag, and slip out before anyone could corner you. But your body stayed put, as if waiting for something.
Spencer was across the room, unclipping his mic with practiced hands, his expression unreadable. He’d been quiet during wrap-up — no teasing, no easy jokes — just watching the bustle with a far-off look, like he was somewhere else entirely.
You stood and busied yourself with collecting the water bottle Spencer gave you and removing your own mic. You smoothed down your shirt several times, hoping the repetitive motion would calm your nerves.
“Hey,” came a quiet voice behind you. You’d know that voice anywhere.
You turned. Spencer was closer now, looking at you intensely as the crew moved past. Only a few people remained — someone folding a C-stand at the far end, someone hauling out the boom mic. Their chatter blurred into the white noise of the air conditioning.
“Got a second?” he asked softly.
You nodded, your throat too tight for words.
He shifted his weight, folding his arms loosely but not defensively. “If you didn’t write that post,” he said, keeping his voice low, “why did it sound so much like you?”
The question landed between you like a fragile object. Not an accusation, not even a guess — just the truth said aloud.
You stared at your hands. The bright set had turned dusky now, lit mostly by spill from the hallway. “Because…” You swallowed hard. “Because it was me.”
Spencer inhaled through his nose, a slow steadying breath. He gave a small shake of his head, a rueful half-smile curving his lips. “Yeah. I kind of figured.”
“I wrote it awhile ago,” you said quickly. “Back when I thought—” You faltered. “I didn’t think anyone would ever read it out loud. I just needed to get it out.”
He tipped his head, studying you with that thoughtful stillness that used to make you feel safe on set. “You’ve been carrying that around all this time?”
You pressed your lips together, then nodded. “I didn’t know what else to do.” A beat passed. “I didn’t know how else to handle… having feelings for you. While working together.”
The words hung in the air, trembling but undeniable.
For a heartbeat, Spencer said nothing. His brow furrowed, then smoothed, then furrowed again, like he was processing an equation. The low hum of the cooling lights filled the silence. Somewhere across the studio, a door clicked shut and footsteps receded, leaving you alone in a bubble of quiet.
Finally he let out a soft sound — halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “You know what’s funny?” His voice was lower, unguarded. “I’ve been trying not to risk our friendship. Not to cross a line. And all this time…” He broke off, shaking his head again, smiling at the floor.
Spencer looked back up, eyes warmer now. “I’ve liked you for a while. More than a while. I just didn’t want to ruin what we have here, or put you in a weird spot. But hearing that post…” He trailed off, then gave a soft chuckle. “You didn’t exactly leave me much plausible deniability.”
You felt a nervous smile flicker across your face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His voice was firm but gentle. He took a slow step closer, until the faint cedar-citrus scent of his cologne reached you. He hesitated, then lifted a hand and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed your cheekbone — feather-light, but enough to leave a trail of warmth.
You exhaled shakily, your pulse skittering. “I was so scared of making it weird,” you whispered. “Of ruining everything.”
He smiled, small and almost shy, but steady. “Me too.” Another beat passed. “But maybe it’s already been something else for a long time. We just didn’t say it.”
You let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sigh. “Maybe.”
He dropped his hand but stayed close, his voice soft. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. I just… I’m glad I know. Really glad.”
A weight you’d been carrying for years seemed to shift, loosen, making room for air. “I’m glad too,” you said, and you meant it.
For a long moment you and Spencer simply stood there in the half-lit studio, the world shrunk down to a warm pocket of quiet. The hum of the lights had gone from oppressive to soft, like white noise after a storm.
Spencer shifted his weight, still close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. “You want to…” he started, then stopped, running a thumb along his jaw in that nervous habit you’d seen a hundred times on camera but rarely in real life. “Do you want to grab a coffee? Or take a walk? Somewhere off-camera. We don’t have to figure everything out tonight — just…” He gestured vaguely toward the door. “…away from here.”
You blinked, the words taking a second to land. After everything that had happened on camera — the teasing, the recognition, the confession — here he was, giving you a way forward. The weight that had been pressing on your ribs for years eased a fraction, enough for you to breathe.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’d like that.”
A small smile flickered across his mouth — not his usual quick, crooked grin, but something warmer, slower. “Okay. Let’s… not stay here then.”
On the way out, Spencer picked up your bag automatically, slinging it over his shoulder before you could protest. “I got it.” The simple gesture sent a strange rush through you — protective but not possessive, like a new rhythm you were both learning.
You laughed under your breath. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Walking out of the Smosh office, the door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the last of the fluorescent hum. Cool night air spilled across your face. The parking lot was mostly empty now — just a few scattered cars under the soft glow of streetlamps. For the first time all day, the silence felt like freedom rather than pressure.
Spencer shifted the bag on his shoulder and walked beside you, his stride slow, matching yours. The faint cedar-citrus scent of his cologne drifted in the breeze.
“So,” he said finally, glancing down at you. “Coffee? There’s that twenty-four-hour diner a few blocks over. Or we can just… walk.
You laughed quietly. “Coffee sounds perfect.”
For a few steps neither of you spoke. Your hands brushed once, twice, a third time, like the universe nudging you closer. The earlier confession replayed in your head, but now it felt less like a rupture and more like a doorway you’d both stepped through.
He broke the silence first, voice softer than the night air. “You know, I wasn’t kidding earlier. I’ve liked you for a long time. I just didn’t want to risk it. But…” He trailed off, shaking his head and smiling. “Guess the universe had other plans.”
You smiled back, a real smile this time, no camera in sight. “Guess so.”
His fingers brushed yours again. This time they stayed, lacing loosely, like a test.
You laced back.
~~~
Months later, when the Reddit Stories episode aired, the comments and memes had reached a fever pitch. Every other post on r/Smosh seemed to be about “the tension” between you and Spencer on the Reddit Stories episode — screenshots, theories, GIF loops of him passing the water bottle to you.
You scrolled through the subreddit one night, heart hammering. Enough of the whispers. Time to just… say it.
You opened a new post from your main account:
Update: Hi everyone! Yes, I’m the one who posted about being in love with my coworker. Good news! He’s had feelings for me the entire time.
You hit “post” and tossed your phone onto the couch, heart thudding.
Across the room, Spencer looked up from his laptop, hair falling into his eyes. “Did you tell them?”
“Yeah,” you said, cheeks warm. “Quick confession.”
He grinned and crossed the room, collapsing onto the couch beside you. Without a word, he reached over, lacing his fingers with yours, the way he’d done that first night outside the studio.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, the glow of the tv in your shared living room casting a soft halo over both of you.
Somewhere on the internet, thousands of strangers were celebrating the story they’d pieced together from glances and inside jokes across the years. And here, in your living room, you and Spencer were writing your own next chapter — no cameras, no editing, just the two of you.
pb&jj roommates au: the one with babysitting & karaoke
Summary: sue and reed come down with the flu, and now you, pbjj, and yelena are stuck babysitting franklin and his friends... oh and it's his 7th birthday based on this request, slightly changed.
Pairings: b&jj x platonic!reader/fem!reader and peter parker x fem!reader and bob x yelena
Warnings: chaotic group of 7 year olds, uncle!pb&jj, fluff, fem!reader with vague descriptions, little to no use of y/n, and proofreadish.
WC: 1.4K
Author's Note: anon, i'm sorry this took a while! <3 hope you guys like it and feedback is always appreciated (:
pb&jj masterlist II marvel masterlist
Johnny underestimated himself. He said yes to chaperoning his nephew's 7th birthday party. Sue and Reed had gotten sick and asked Johnny if he was able to take over the birthday party they had planned for Franklin.
They had lied to Johnny when they said it was a simple birthday, because what seven-year-old wants a low-key birthday party?
So that's why Johnny called in/blackmailed his roommates into helping him with Franklin's birthday party.
"You're joking. Tell me you're joking," Peter says once Johnny finishes his speech to you guys.
You, Yelena, Bob, Peter, and Joaquin are looking at Johnny like he has a third head.
"Again, why am I here?" Yelena asks and looks around at everyone.
"Because I need another woman there or else I'm going to lose it," you say.
"Hey, Frankin has some lady friends who are going to his birthday party," Johnny interjects.
"Oh, yay. I can gossip with a seven-year-old.
Joaquin turns to you and says, "You don't know what you're talking about. Seven-year-olds are brutal."
"Do you have first-hand experience with seven-year-olds?" Bob curiously asks.
"You don't want to know."
"Anyways, it's just for one day. And plus, you guys love Franklin." Johnny looks around at everyone. Franklin is a sweet kid, but once you throw in cake, candy, more sugar, and if he's anything like Johnny, when Johnny has too much caffeine, it's a recipe for disaster.
No one says anything, and Peter takes the initiative to say something first. "I mean, it's just one day."
You quickly nudge Peter to remind him it's a Saturday, not just one day.
"So," Johnny drags out the word as he continues to stare everyone down.
It's hard to say no to Johnny
"Fine as long as it's nothing crazy and you don't go overboard," Joaquin replies, relenting, but a part of him knows he's going to need a lot of aspirin.
---
"You did not rent a fucking party bus," Bob groans out as he stands in front of an obnoxious-looking bus that doesn't scream kid-friendly.
"There better not be a stripper pole," Joaquin adds.
"Hey, language!" Johnny shouts and points at Joaquin.
"Dude, the little brats aren't even here," he mutters and leans against the bus.
You, Yelena, and Peter finally get outside and see a disgruntled Bob and Joaquin, along with an overexcited Johnny.
Johnny claps his hands together once he sees everyone is here. "Okay! Let's get this party started."
Everyone piles into the bus, and thankfully, the inside looks normal, no stripper poles. Johny hops in the driver's seat, and you're off.
The moment Johnny pulls up in front of Sue and Reed's apartment, you see Franklin and six of his friends all standing outside with Ben.
Johnny jumps out of the bus, and Franklin is rushing over to him, screaming, "Uncle Johnny!" It's kinda scary how much Franklin looks like Johnny and Sue.
It's as if Peter can read your thoughts; he leans in close and whispers into your ear. "Did Reed even try?"
You fight back a laugh and smack his chest. "Peter, you're terrible."
"What? Everyone is thinking."
"Well, shhhh."
The peaceful silence is broken by loud, excited voices coming up the steps. Bob and Yelena are awkwardly in the way back, hoping to blend in with the apolstry.
Joaquin was smart enough to call dibs on shotgun. Two of the girls who get in last do a double-take when they see him slouched in the passenger seat.
They let out a squeal, giggling as they rush past you and Peter to join the rest of the group.
"Who are you?" One of the boys asks, he's addressing you and Peter.
"We're friends with Franklin's uncle," Peter says in a friendly tone.
The kid continues to stare, but says nothing else. Franklin and Johnny finally get into the bus, and Franklin goes over to you and Peter.
Peter holds out a hand for a high five and says, "Happy birthday, bud."
Franklin rolls his eyes. "Hi-fives are so lame, Peter."
"Damn." You hear Yelena whisper to Bob.
Peter pouts to you as he watches Franklin go to his friends. "What happened to the sweet little kid?"
"They grow up so fast." You pretend to wipe a tear away.
"I'm going to kill you," Joaquin whispers to Johnny when Johnny parks in front of an arcade/karaoke building. Ben had told Johnny how Reed and Sue had rented out the place for Franklin's birthday.
"Oh, come on. Don't be such a party pooper," Johnny says and tries to pinch Joaquin's cheek.
"If one of those kids gets hurt, it's on you," Joaquin warns.
"That's why we have Peter and y/n, they're like helicopter parents anytime we babysit Franklin. Plus, Bob knows CPR, we're good."
"Unbelievable," Joaquin mutters, getting out and slamming the door shut.
The arcade/karaoke looks like the '80s threw up everywhere. But they have up-to-date machines. The kids are already running in all directions, and you're glad you have the place to yourselves.
"Okay, keep an eye on the kiddos. I need to find the staff and see if the cake and pizzas have arrived yet," Johnny tells no one in particular and then wanders off.
"Well, where do you wanna go first?" Peter asks you while reaching out for your hand.
"How about the pinball machine?" You see Franklin and one of his friends over there.
You look over your shoulder and see Joaquin, Bob, and Yelena wander over to the basketball hoops game.
You and Peter stand back and watch Franklin and his friend play. Franklin is quite good and ends up scoring a new high score.
"I think you're better than Johnny," you tell Franklin, who tries to hide a smirk.
"Well, I taught him everything he knows," Johnny says from behind you and Peter. Franklin immediately perks up when he sees Johnny.
"Uncle Johnny, I wanna see if I can still beat you in Donkey Kong," Franklin excitedly says, and he's already pulling Johnny towards the machine.
Overall, the party goes well. You and Peter drift between kids and see that Joaquin has earned himself a fan club. After the pizza and cake comes the most fun part, karaoke.
Yelena is the most excited, probably a little more than the kids.
"Okay, let's keep this PG," Johnny tells the group of kids who start booing him.
"C'mon. Uncle Johnny, you're the fun one," Franklin pleads.
"Fine, PG-13," Johnny gives in, "what do kids even listen to these days?"
"Do they have any One Direction?" Peter asks as Johnny looks through the catalog.
"Ooh, what about Hannah Montana?" Yelena adds in.
You hear the two girls whisper to each other. "Who are those people?" And it makes you feel extra old.
"Well, we have a lot of Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande," Johnny answers.
"Choose Ariana," Joaquin says, and everyone looks at him. "What? She has some bangers."
"Since you used a naughty word, you're going first." Before Joaquin can protest, Johnny hauls him up and shoves a microphone into his hand.
Joaquin manages to grab Bob at the last moment, who looks a bit lost.
"Since when is bangers a bad word?" Bob mutters and stares at the microphone that Joaquin handed to him.
"Good luck, Joaquin," one of the girls calls out to him, and her friend giggles behind her hand.
Joaquin shoots them a smile that you're sure they're going to be talking about for a while.
"Wait, let me choose," you say, reaching for the remote.
"You'd better pick a good one," Joaquin calls to you.
You end up choosing Honeymoon Avenue.
"Oh my god! I love this song," Yelena shouts over the intro and jumps up to join Bob.
"Wait, we wanna sing with Joaquin too," the girls say, and hurry over to him.
Johnny starts passing out extra microphones to everyone, including you and Peter.
"This is going to be interesting," Peter mutters. He can't even see the screen.
The entire song ultimately sounds like several different songs. Bob, Yelena, Joaquin, and the two girls are the only ones who can see the screen.
Johnny decides to add ad-libs to the song. Peter and you tried to follow along, but gave up halfway through. The only ones still continuing besides the four up front were Franklin and Johnny.
After the song finishes, you immediately put on One Last Time.
here’s a list of all my oneshots, headcanons, and series!
requests are open and rules are on my navigation/pinned post on my page!
MARVEL
Bob Reynolds:
Baby, I Loved You First— 5.5k. bob’s been your best friend since you met him in the vault; you had an instant connection. he’s always been in love with you, but you’re too oblivious to see it, dating guys who don’t love you like bob does. but after months of watching and listening to you go on dates with random guys, bob finally has enough and tells you how he feels. what’s even better?? a storm brews in while he walks you to your date’s house.
SMOSH
Spencer Agnew:
Spider-Boy, King of Thieves— 8.2k. there was a new hero in the big city of Los Angeles, and you definitely weren’t expecting it to be your boyfriend, spencer. featuring: the spider-man kiss!!
⇨ 「pairing— spider-man!spencer agnew x fem!reader」
⇨ 「summary— there was a new hero in the big city of Los Angeles, and you definitely weren’t expecting it to be your boyfriend, spencer. featuring: the spider-man kiss!!」
⇨ 「a/n— omg i saw this on tiktok and couldn’t get spidey!spencer out of my head!! i don’t know if anyone has written something like this before tho lol so i’m sorry if anyone has! also this is my first smosh fic so bare with me if it’s inaccurate or not very good 😅. lmk if you want me to write more spidey!spencer stuff, i really loved writing this and would be happy to write more! enjoy!」
⇨ 「warnings— cursing, spencer lowkey being an ass, angst, spencer being OBLIVIOUS (but so is reader), tiny mention of blood, a LOT of pinky promising (i got a little carried away), angela being a sweetie, fluffy ending!」
⇨ 「word count— 8.2k」
If there was one thing you knew about your boyfriend, it would be that he's hiding something from you. He thought he was slick and probably assumed you wouldn't notice, but you definitely did.
You just had to figure out what he was hiding.
Of course, the thought that he might be Spider-Man never crossed your mind. Even though it wasn't the craziest idea, and actually a pretty logical explanation, it was something you never even thought about being a possibility.
Your nerdy, game-obsessed, workaholic boyfriend was the only man you've ever loved this much, and you have made sure to not keep anything from him. You just wished he felt the same. Every time you would try to bring it up, he'd immediately shut it down and change the subject—talking about work, a new game he played, or honestly just anything except what he was hiding from you.
Eventually you gave up on verbalizing your curiosity, instead settling on figuring it out yourself. You felt weird keeping such a close eye on him, always giving him suspicious—but lovingly—lingering gazes. But you concluded that it was just you looking out for him, and that he would tell you eventually when he was ready... right?
"Hey, Spence," you come up from behind him while he was typing away at his computer, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. It was late, and you were ready to get home and be greeted by your comfy bed.
He didn't look up from whatever he was typing, "Hey, babe." You nuzzled your head into his neck, nose diving directly into his hoodie. He smelled of Kickstart and your favorite cologne he wears. He stopped his work momentarily, "Everything okay?"
You shook your head, still face-down into the hood of his grey hoodie. Spencer let out an airy laugh, leaning back into his chair and wrapping his own arms around yours, giving them a soft rub. "What's wrong?" Even though you couldn't see it, you could sense his cheesed smile plastered on his face.
"I'm tired," you dragged out, emphasizing your exhaustion and also silently hinting at the fact that you wanted to leave. You weren't very straightforward, and Spencer had come to recognize the hints you give when you want something without having to say it.
He craned his head in the direction of yours, "Give me like 10 more minutes."
In response, you tightened your arms around his neck slightly, giving him another shake of your head. "Whatever you're doing can wait, Spence."
"Y/n—" He began, but you cut him off, lifting your head up to meet his gaze.
"Your work will still be here in the morning, and I'm not taking no for an answer," you were firm, eyes stern while staring into your boyfriend's.
He sighed, "I know, but I have to catch up from earlier—"
"And what exactly were you doing earlier that wasn't here at the office?" You couldn't help but ask, even though you tried your best not to pry. You hated being left in the dark, especially when it was Spencer doing it.
His smile instantly dropped and he hesitated, "I-I told you, I had to pick up some props that I left at the house this morning." You squinted your eyes, immediately detecting the lie that laced every word he spoke. You wanted to call him out on it, but decided to leave it be to not start an argument.
You sighed, "Alright, 10 more minutes." His eyes lit up and his smile returned to his face just as quickly as it left, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips before turning back to his work. You held out your pinky finger without a word, waiting for him to catch a glimpse of it. Once he did he interlocked his own pinky with yours, silently promising that after 10 minutes, he would put his work down and pack up for the night. "I love you," you smiled at him, making his eyes meet yours again.
"I love you too."
———
A few days have passed and Spencer still has yet to tell you anything about this secret he's hiding. You thought that eventually he would tell you since you've been pushing a lot, but he never did. You were beginning to get worried.
Was his secret that bad?
You trusted him, knowing that he wasn't doing anything that betrayed your trust. But the thought couldn't help but creep into the back of your mind. Spencer was an incredibly loyal person, and he would never cheat on you, but what could be so important that he couldn't share with you?
With a sigh, you decided to brush it off and quit thinking about it for now, it only made your stress levels rise and you didn't need that right now. Instead, you opted for taking a small break, pushing your chair back from your desk and standing up. Maybe a coffee from your favorite cafe would help ease your nerves?
You debated it for a minute. The cafe was only a few blocks down from the Smosh office, and you'd be back in no time. It was almost lunch time anyway.
You tracked down Courtney before leaving, just to make sure you can slip out and not miss anything. Luckily you didn't have a shoot for another two hours, so everything will be fine if you leave for a few minutes.
After telling them you're leaving, they made you promise to get them a drink as well, which you happily agreed to. They gave you a bright smile and ushered you off with a rushed "be quick!" and "be careful!". You playfully rolled your eyes and nodded, beginning your trek to your car. You tried to flag down Spencer before you left to see if he wanted anything, but you couldn't find him anywhere. Oh well, he must be in a shoot or something.
Once you made it to your car, you quickly—but carefully—drove to the cafe, parking your car across the street in front of it. There wasn't any parking by the building, much to your dismay.
You walked over to the crosswalk after getting out of your car, feet bouncing on the pavement as you anxiously waited for the light to turn red so you could walk. Surprisingly, there weren't many people out at this time of day. It was the weird hour between rush hours and everyone was at work, so there weren't many people out in the streets.
As soon as the crosswalk light illuminated a bright white, you didn't even look both ways before speed walking across the street.
That was stupid.
The next few moments happened so quickly, you don't even remember how it all went down. It went from the few people on the sidewalk screaming at you, a car honking at you, and then you felt yourself being swept up from the ground off your feet and into the air.
"WHAT THE F—"
Then you were set down a couple of blocks over from the cafe. You felt hands settle at your hips, steading your swaying body from just being lifted off the ground. Your eyes were wild as you began to process what just happened and the person in front of you. The first thing you noticed was red and blue and a little bit of black.
Your breath caught in the back of your throat.
"SPIDER-MAN?!!!" Your heart raced while staring at the hero in front of you, his hands still on your hips.
He chuckled, "That's me." Despite not being able to see his eyes, you could tell he was gazing into yours deeply. "Are you okay, miss?"
You blinked at him. "I- What the hell just happened?"
"You almost got ran over by a car. You’re welcome, by the way," he was quick to respond, not missing a beat.
You blinked again, this time realization hitting you like a bus. "Oh-! Y-yeah, thank you for the save. I was in a rush and not paying attention..."
He nodded, "I saw. You should really pay more attention while crossing the street, you could’ve died!"
“I know… I guess when I’m in a rush my brain kinda stops working,” you rubbed the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “Like, all common sense just,” you made a swooping motion with your hands, “out the window.”
The hero sighed, “Just be more cautious next time, please.” You felt his fingers squeeze your hips, making you become aware of them there. With a nervous laugh, you slowly pushed his hands off of you, trying not to offend him in any way.
"I have a boyfriend," you gave him an apologetic smile, which he just lifted his hands up in surrender.
"Shit, sorry! I wasn't thinking," he sputtered, taking a step away from you. An awkward silence fell upon you both, just the ambience of L.A. life in the streets in the background. After a minute, you heard a ding come from your phone in your pocket, making you snap out of the trance you were in.
Pulling your phone out, your screen unlocked and you saw a text pop up from Courtney. Shit! You forgot about the time crunch you were in.
Court: Where are you??
Your heart rate picked up as you typed back an answer, giving them a small lie to not worry them about the events from the past few minutes.
You: In line rn. I'll be there in 10.
You quickly shut off your phone and slipped it into your back pocket before looking back at the confused hero. "Sorry, I gotta run. I promised a friend a drink and I gotta get back to work." You started walking back towards the cafe, not taking your eyes off of Spider-Man. "Thank you again for the save! I'll start paying more attention when crossing the road." A small giggled left your lips as the man began walking towards you.
He tilted his head, "Promise?" You stopped in your tracks and nodded. He held out his pinky to you, waiting patiently for you to loop your own with his.
Without thinking twice about it, you wrapped your pinky around his tightly. "Pinky promise." He gave you a nod, seeming pleased with your promise to him.
And then you were off, this time looking both ways twice before crossing the crosswalk and running into the cafe. Spider-Man watched you the whole way there, not moving from his spot. His heart skipped a beat as he gazed at you, the feeling of worry not leaving his stomach. He already kept a good eye on you, but now realizing how ignorant you were when you were in a rush, he was going to watch you like a hawk to ensure your safety. He wasn't going to let anything happen to his girl.
———
Staying true to your word, you were—surprisingly—back at the Smosh office in 10 minutes with no time to spare, your coffee in one hand, and Courtney's drink in the other. The condensation from the melting ice in your coffee was cold to the touch, making your movements just a little bit faster.
After giving Courtney their drink, you sighed and slowed your pace down to a chill walk, letting your heart rate go down and your anxiousness dissipate.
Once you made it back to your desk, you plopped down in your chair dramatically, catching the eye of your boyfriend who was walking towards you.
"You look... frazzled," was all he said. He stopped in front of you with an amused smile on his face and arms crossed.
You blew upwards with your mouth, still slightly out of breath. "I am. I just snuck out and had to hurry back."
He nodded, leaning on the side of your desk next to you. "And you didn't get me anything??"
Your mouth dropped open and your back straightened quickly. "I couldn't find you before I left, or I would've!" Your hand pointed towards him defensively.
Spencer chuckled, leaning down to your level and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'm kidding, tiger." You huffed and crossed your arms across your chest, looking up at him.
"Did you have a shoot earlier? Usually you're at your desk this time of day," you asked, no suspicion laced in your voice whatsoever. It was an innocent question, but for some reason it made Spencer stiffen. You noticed it, too.
He cleared his throat and shook his head, knowing that if he lied and said he was in a shoot, you would find out the truth. "I was probably in the bathroom or something."
You squinted your eyes, noticing his shaky voice and the nervousness that graced his cadence. You decided to brush it off and nod your head, silently telling him that you believed his very obvious lie.
You loved your boyfriend more than life itself, but he was a horrible liar.
Spencer's eyebrows furrowed as he took in the unsure look on your face that you didn't realize you were still making. "Are you okay?"
Your eyes shot up to meet his, the phrase sounding a little too familiar from what happened on your coffee run. "Yeah!" You replied a little too quickly, "I'm fine."
He gave you a look that spoke words that you unfortunately understood but decided to ignore. He didn't believe you.
"Did something happen when you left?" His voice was filled with concern, as well as his eyes that had gone soft while gazing at you.
Your heart rate picked up and skipped a beat. How did he know that?
Oh, who were you kidding, that man could know everything about you just by looking at you. It was almost as if you were an open book that was only in a language he could understand. Unfortunately for you, it was hard to lie to him—much like himself.
You thought about it for a second. Should you tell him what happened? Or should you give him a taste of his own medicine and leave him in the dark?
If you were being honest with yourself, you also didn't want him to know about what happened because it was embarrassing. You couldn't look him in the eyes and tell him you were in too much of a rush that you almost got hit by a car and died.
Yeah, you weren't going to tell him.
You met his eyes again and shook your head, "No, nothing happened. Just a lot of anxiety to get back to work unnoticed." You laughed dryly, hoping he would leave it at that.
His eyes squinted before nodding his head, "Okay. I'm just glad you're back in one piece." He leaned down to hug you, giving you a tight squeeze. Your eyes widened as you reciprocated the hug, thinking about just how accurate his words were. Surely, he didn't know, right?
Unbeknownst to you, Spencer was in his head secretly hoping you would come clean about what happened since he knew about it… Well, he didn't just know about it, he was the one who saved your life. But you didn't know that and it was going to stay that way.
———
A few days had gone by, and your brain couldn't stop thinking about the interaction you had with Spider-Man. Something about him felt so familiar, but you just couldn't put your finger on it.
And Spencer... He was acting weirder than usual. You thought he was acting distant before, but now you barely even get the chance to talk to him.
The worry in your chest kept growing more and more; if you weren't super concerned before, you definitely were now. You’ve noticed that the past few nights he's been getting out of bed and leaving your apartment too. Why? You didn't know because he never brought it up. Honestly, as much as you wanted to know where he was during the odd times of the night, you didn't want to bring it up to start a fight.
You didn't want to fight with him, you hated fighting. But it's getting to the point where you can't handle this anymore. The secrets are getting too much and you feel farther away from Spencer than ever.
As much as you didn't want to, tonight you're going to confront him and hope and pray that he tells you something that's the truth. It seems he's forgotten what truth is here lately.
The day was long but not horrible, and you couldn't stop the pit growing in your stomach that made you feel sick. It was Friday, and Spencer promised that he would make it to date night. The past few he had to cancel, or sometimes he showed up too late, saying that he forgot or he got caught up with work.
Lies, lies, and more lies.
You were sick of it, and tonight was your breaking point.
You got all dolled up, hair, makeup, and one of Spencer's favorite dresses that you wear. Maybe if he saw you, he wouldn't be as distant and would open up. That's what you keep telling yourself, that is.
He texted you after work that he was running a bit behind and that he would meet you at your favorite restaurant. You made sure to remind him before you left work about your date to ensure he wouldn't forget. All he did was give you a smile and held out his pinky. You hesitantly interlocked yours with his.
He's coming, you told yourself as you sat at the table. He made a promise.
You sat at the table for a good 20 minutes, the waiter coming by every so often to refill your drink. You texted Spencer:
You: Hey, I'm here.
8:48pm
You: Are you almost here??
9:01pm
You waited and waited, yet no response from him whatsoever. Panic arose in your chest as you thought of all the horrible things that could've happened to him.
About 10 more minutes passed before your waiter came back with an apologetic look on her face. "Excuse me, miss?" Your eyes darted to her figure as you played with the rings on your fingers.
"Yes?"
She sighed, "I hate to tell you, but if you're not going to order anything, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." You felt a knot forming in the back of your throat, embarrassment washing over you.
Your voice wavered as you fought down tears, "O-oh, okay." And then you quickly collected your things and gave her a tip for being so patient with you before storming out of the restaurant with tears still threatening to fall.
Once you made it to your car, you broke down, sobs leaving your lips and your makeup smeared around your eyes.
Spencer stood you up even though he promised he would be there.
It seemed crazy to you that your own boyfriend ghosted you. You wouldn't be as surprised if it was a first date, but you've been dating for a few years and this is Spencer we’re talking about. He would never do this. Boyfriends aren’t supposed to ghost their girlfriends. Period.
After crying for what felt like hours, you calmed down enough to drive home. Once you made it home, you half-expected to see Spencer, but to your disappointment, he was nowhere to be found.
You just rolled your eyes and kicked off your shoes, heading straight to the bathroom to take off your makeup and put on some comfy clothes. Yeah, that's what you needed. Pj's, ice cream, and a movie, that would help cheer you up.
———
About halfway through your second movie, you hear the door unlock and footsteps step inside, the person throwing their keys in the bowl on the table next to the door.
The footsteps were quick to run over to the living room, revealing to you that it was Spencer. You didn't spare him a glance, but you knew he was out of breath and staring at you with that familiar apologetic look he gives you every time he forgets a date.
"Y/n, I—"
"Don't," was all you said, your face blank as you kept your eyes on the TV.
He sighed and set down his backpack on the floor before walking over and sitting next to you on the couch. "I'm so so sorry, baby, I just got caught up—"
Your face contorted into a look of fury, snapping your head in his direction. "Don't you dare say you were caught up at work because you and I both know that's a lie."
Spencer winced at the venom in your voice, and it was then that you noticed a small cut on his cheek. Your eyes softened slightly as you focused on it instead of his eyes. "What happened to your face?" Your voice was gentle, but it was still full of irritation and fury.
He lifted his hand and swiped at his cheek, smearing the blood on his fingers and pulling back to see that he was bleeding. He sighed, "It's nothing, don't worry about it."
You scoffed, "Don't worry about it? Spencer, I've been worried sick all night!" He looked down at his lap but stayed silent. "First you ghost me, and then you don't respond to my texts at all, and now you just showed up hours later at midnight with cuts on your face and you're still lying to me! You don't think that doesn't worry me?"
"Y/n—"
"No, let me finish," you interrupted. "A matter of fact, I've been worried for the past few months, Spencer! You lie to me all the time and you're super secretive and won't tell me a thing! I'm just left in the dark as you keep sneaking out and staying out late doing God knows what." You took a breath, preparing you for what you're about to say. "I'm tired of it, Spence. I don't know if I can keep doing this." You felt tears begin to flow down your cheeks.
Spencer stiffened and whispered nervously, "Doing what?"
"This!" You motioned your finger between the both of you. "Us."
He felt his heart drop to his stomach and a knot formed in his throat. "W-what?" His voice wavered, unsteady and full of regret.
You sighed, attempting to wipe the tears away but every time you do, your cheeks get coated with a new layer of salty wetness as they continue to fall. "I'm tired of the lying and worrying and the secrets. I can't do this anymore. I feel so far away from you, it's like we're not even dating."
That felt like a punch to the gut.
Shit, he's messed up bad.
Tears fall down his cheeks as he reached for you hands. "I'm sorry, Y/n, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
You couldn't look at him, instead opting to stare down at your lap. "What have you been hiding from me, Spence? Please, it's all I want to know." You pleaded with him, all the anger you felt before gone and turned into heartbreak and anguish. You figured that he would come clean if this was going to be the end of your relationship.
Spencer's heart broke at the sight of you and the cracks in your voice as you begged him for answers. Answers that he couldn't give you. He gripped your hands tightly, not enough to hurt you, but tight enough to tell him that you were still there. For now, at least. "I-I can't tell you."
Your head slowly lifted to meet his gaze, your e/c eyes full of sorrow and despair. "Why not?" You whispered, trying to search his eyes for some sort of answer.
He choked out a small sob and stared at you, shaking his head. Your face scrunched up and you got your answer, he wasn't going to tell you. More sobs left your lips as you curled into yourself, hugging your arms tightly around your chest, head hanging low.
You both sat there and cried for a while, not daring to speak to each other. After you calmed down a bit, you finally got up and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind you softly. You couldn't stay here tonight, not with him.
So, you decided to call Angela and tell her what was going on. You two were really close, and she's not unfamiliar with your talks about Spencer and how distant he's been lately. She's been there since the beginning, and even though you hated calling her at this hour, you figured she was the best person to call.
She picked up in only a few rings, her voice still alive and upbeat like normal, telling you that she wasn't asleep. Relief washed over you.
You quietly explained the events from the night, trying hard to fight down the tears again, but they pushed through and flowed down your cheeks anyway. Angela went from her usual happy self to a concerned mother with anger in her voice as she spoke about killing “that dickhead”—her words, not yours. You just gave her a small chuckle, but the happiness fell short quickly.
When you sheepishly asked to come over for the night, she didn't hesitate to say that you were welcome anytime and that she would love if you stayed with her. A small smile lifted your lips, tears beginning to dry but the smile didn't quite meet your eyes.
"Thank you, Ang," you whispered, a relieved sigh leaving your lips.
She smiled, even though you couldn't see it, you could hear it in her voice. “Of course, Y/n, you can come over anytime you want. Just don't let Spencer come near me because I'll kill him.” You laughed softly before you bid your goodbyes.
After hanging up the phone, you opened the door to see Spencer, who held his fist up like he was about to knock on the door. Your face fell and showed annoyance as you pushed past him without a word. You went straight to your room and packed a backpack with clothes and some essentials in silence. Spencer watched you from the door, frown evident on his face and his eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying.
"Where are you going?" His voice was unsteady and sounded like he was on the verge of crying again.
You didn't look at him as you zipped up your bag. "Angela's. She said I could crash there tonight." Spencer's eyes widened as you tossed the backpack on over your shoulder, making sure to grab your phone charger before you left.
As much as he wanted to, Spencer didn't say a word, knowing it would only make things worse if he did. He followed you all around the house as you grabbed stuff to take to Angela's. You were in a rush, and you definitely didn't get everything you needed, but you wanted to get out of there as quickly as you could.
Once you thought you had enough, you walked towards the door—Spencer still hot on your heels—and grabbed your keys. When you reached the door, you turned back and looked at him for the first time since you started packing your things. His face was full of regret and you could tell that he was heartbroken. The look on his face made your own heart break, but you knew you needed to get over it. It was his fault that you were leaving, after all.
And so, with a deep breath and tears about to fall from your eyes once again, you turned on your heel and walked out the door, closing it gently behind you. After you left his sight, Spencer let his head hang low and tears fell down his cheeks again.
Idiot, he told himself. This wouldn't have happened if you just told her the truth.
———
After a few days of staying at Angela's and calling out of work, you finally showed up to the Smosh office, feeling a little nervous for the day ahead of you. You knew seeing Spencer was inevitable, and even worse was that no one knew about your fight except for Angela and maybe Shayne if Spencer told him about it.
Angela also had to keep her distance from Spencer, knowing that if she saw him, she would go berserk on him. She loved you so much, and hated to see you in this much pain, so naturally she wanted to kill the source.
Of course, she wouldn't actually kill him, but maybe just a few hits to the face would subdue.
It was lunchtime now, and you decided to go to your favorite cafe—with more caution this time—to get something light to eat.
Like your last time coming here, you parked your car across the street and carefully crossed the crosswalk, making sure to look both ways twice this time. Once you made your way to the cafe, you opened the door and were very relieved to see the line was short. You just barely beat the rush.
After one of the workers called your name, you grabbed your sandwich from them and walked to the back of the cafe to the stairs that led up to the roof. They had a sitting area up there if patrons wanted to eat outside, and since the weather was nice today, you thought you'd take advantage of it.
The crisp L.A. winds brushed through your hair as you opened the door, revealing the empty area. Good, there wasn't anyone there and you could relax in your solitude.
You sat down at one of the tables and ate your sandwich, your phone in one hand as you scrolled through TikTok to keep you entertained. A few minutes later, your sandwich was gone and the wrapper was thrown in the trashcan that was up there, now leaving you with just your phone. You still had about an hour left of your break, and you didn't feel like going back to work yet.
You didn't feel like being near him yet.
Right as you closed out of TikTok and opened Instagram, you saw someone walk up and sit down in front of you in your peripherals. You looked up with your eyebrows furrowed, fully expecting it to be a fan or something.
Your eyes widened as you saw the familiar red and blue costume in front of you with those big white eyes.
"Spider-Man??"
He nodded, "Hey."
You turned off your phone and set it down. "What are you doing here?"
He ignored your question. "I see you made it over here in one piece this time."
A small laugh left your lips and you nodded, "Yeah, I made sure to look both ways twice before crossing this time."
The hero nodded, "Good, good."
There was an awkward silence that fell over you two, much like it had a week prior.
Spider-Man spoke up, dissolving the silence quickly. "Are you okay? You seem... down." His voice was full of concern, sounding a lot like Spencer when he was worried.
You wanted to nod and tell him that everything was fine and nothing was wrong, but you couldn't. The tears that formed in your eyes beat you to it.
You hung your head to attempt to hide your emotions, but the hero noticed immediately. He reached his arm across the small table and put his hand on your arm in comfort. "What happened?"
You shook your head and wiped your eyes, "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing if you're crying."
He was right, it definitely was not nothing.
A shaky sigh left your lips as you lifted your head to look at him. "I can't believe I'm telling a stranger this, but my boyfriend has been keeping secrets from me and ghosted me a few nights ago."
Spider-Man's heart sunk. "Oh shit."
"Yeah..." You nodded your head and looked down at your hands. "I don't understand what could be so bad that he couldn't just tell me, you know? I mean, we've been dating for almost four years now, you would think keeping secrets would be like a sin at this point." The hero only nodded his head, not saying anything and letting you speak your mind.
"It hurts," you let out a small sob after trying to keep it in. "It hurts so bad that he couldn't be honest with me. It hurts that he doesn't trust me enough to tell me what he's hiding. It hurts so so bad because I feel like he doesn't love me anymore." You hid your face in your hands as you cried, feeling embarrassed that you just revealed something like this to someone you barely knew.
He sniffed, sounding like he was crying too. "He still loves you."
Your head lifted up and revealed your puffy eyes and the heartbroken look on your face. "H-how do you know that?" Your voice sounded so broken and pitiful, it made the hero want to reveal himself to you right then and there. But he couldn't, not here anyway.
Spider-Man sighed, "Because I just do, okay? I'm sure he feels like absolute shit for making you feel this way and an even bigger asshole for not noticing that you were hurting."
You just looked at him, tears still running down your cheeks. "What did I do wrong?"
The hero got up out of his seat without a word and moved to your side, pulling you out of your own seat before engulfing you in a tight hug. It was warm and felt a little too familiar. Maybe it was because he's held you before when he saved you. Yeah, that seemed logical. But you couldn't help but recognize the hug, it reminded you too much of your boyfriend. He kind of even smelled like him. You figured it was just your imagination because you were thinking about him.
Spider-Man rubbed your back soothingly, "You did nothing wrong at all, okay? It's his fault from keeping things from you and in no way did you do anything wrong."
You nodded at his words, your tears soaking through his red and blue suit and creating a dark spot where your head was. You pulled away from the hug and wiped your eyes again, this time your cheeks were dry. Good, you stopped crying. A short silence filled the air once again, but this time it wasn't awkward, it was comfortable.
Until your phone alarm blared loudly, snapping you out of your trance and alerting you that you needed to head back to work.
"I guess you gotta head back, huh?" He asked, head tilted to the side.
You gave him an apologetic smile, "Yeah, I don't wanna be late." You grabbed your phone and turned off the alarm before looking back over to the hero. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For listening. And the hug."
He smiled brightly at you, and even though you couldn't see his facial expressions, you knew he was. "Your welcome, Y/n."
Wait a minute...
Before you could say anything, he jumped off the roof and swung away. You stood there in shock, not being able to fully process what had just happened.
How did he know your name?
———
Later after you got back to work, still in shock from your interaction with Spider-Man once again, you sat at your desk and typed up an email.
You came to the conclusion that maybe he was a fan and watched Smosh, that would be the only logical explanation. Unless it was someone you knew... Or better yet, maybe it was someone in the office.
Unlikely. You think you would've figured it out by now if it was someone here. Right?
Stuck in your thoughts, you didn't see someone walk up to your desk with something in their hands. The person cleared their throat, now gaining your attention. Your eyes widened at who it was, surprised to see him.
"Spencer?"
"Hey." Was all he said as he fumbled with his hands and messed with the thing he was holding. God, this was so awkward.
You tucked your hair behind your ears, "Umm, do you need something?"
"Oh, yeah! Uh, sorry," he stammered, looking down at his hands and outstretched them towards you. He was holding a small f/c case that held your glasses. You thought you brought them to Angela's with you, but when you realized you forgot them at your place, you decided you could go without them because you didn't want to face Spencer. But here he was, in front of you with your glasses in his hands. "You forgot your glasses at home, so I brought them here to give them to you but you haven't been here and—" he stopped himself; he was stammering. He just handed you the glasses case without another word. Once they were in your hands, he took that as his queue to leave. "Uhh, your welcome, by the way." And then he was off, leaving you with a confused expression before everything clicked.
You remembered Spider-Man telling you that exact same thing when he saved you a week ago.
Then you remembered the interaction with Spencer after you got back from your run-in with the hero.
And then the pinky promise with Spider-Man, something that you only did with Spencer.
And the hug…
These weren't just reminders of Spencer, they were Spencer.
It all made sense now. The secrets, the being out late, the sneaking, the random injuries he would come home with...
Spencer was Spider-Man. That was his secret. That's what he was hiding from you.
Even though it made sense now, it still hurt that he didn't trust you enough to tell you.
You were going to confront him tonight. And you were going to get answers once and for all.
———
That night, you stayed later than you needed to at the office, telling Angela that you would be home late and to not worry about you. She was suspicious but didn't argue, just saying to text her when you were on your way home.
The office was empty, it was literally just you and Spencer there now. You're pretty sure he didn’t know you're there, but who knows, maybe he did because he had spider-like abilities.
You used this extra time to type up some bit ideas and other things for work, trying to make use of staying late.
After another hour, you finally heard Spencer sigh and collect his things, so you did the same thing. He was moving quickly, making your movements pick up speed to catch him before he left. You weren't going to let him out of your grasp. You were getting the answers you deserved whether he liked it or not.
Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you hastily gathered the rest of your things just as Spencer passed by your desk. He stopped in his tracks, head snapping in your direction with a fake look of shock on his face. "Y/n? What are you still doing here?"
You shrugged, "Getting caught up on work." You both knew it was a lie, and it stung Spencer. He was getting a taste of his own medicine.
"Okay..." And then he awkwardly walked away towards the front door, but not without you hot on his heels. The switch-up was ironic, reminding him of the night you left and he was following you just like how you were following closely behind him.
He reached the door and walked out, but still made sure to leave it open so you could slip through after him. Once you're out the door, he let go of it and it slams behind you. You jumped a little, looking back at the door for a split second, only for Spencer to start speeding off towards his car while you're distracted.
When you looked back in his direction, he was almost to the parking lot but was still on the sidewalk close to the building. Luckily he wasn't too far.
You ran after him, "Spencer!" He slowed and stopped completely, but kept his head straight and didn't turn around to face you. "Wait up." You panted a little after reaching him, putting your hand on his shoulder and forcing him to face you.
Panic arose in his body, and his eyes told you that. His pupils were wide and his eyebrows were raised slightly, a face you only saw when Spencer Agnew was panicked.
"Y-yeah?"
You took a deep breath as you thought about how you should go about this. Spencer looked at you with expectant eyes, waiting for you to speak.
"I know," you started, "I know what you've been hiding from me."
Spencer's eyes widened, "W-what?"
You sighed and put down your backpack and the things you were holding. You were going to be here for a little while.
"I know you're Spider-Man."
Spencer's stomach dropped and his face went pale. You could see in his expression that your theory was correct without him having to say anything at all.
"I'm not... Spider-Man," he shook his head, not meeting your eyes. His heart was beating a million beats a minute.
You took a step closer to him, but he immediately took one back. Eyes squinted and arms crossed, you skimmed your eyes over his body language. His posture that was once slouched was now straight as a board, and his hands fumbled with his keys nervously.
"Would you quit it with the lies? I know your secret now, you don't have to hide it from me anymore!" Your voice was stern, and even though you tried to stay calm, your frustration got the best of you. Spencer just stared at you and stood there like he just saw a ghost. "Please say something."
He sighed and set his stuff down as well. He made sure to keep some distance between the two of you. You both stood there for a few minutes, a heavy tension in the air.
"Spencer, please," You pleaded, "I know the truth now, but I still need to hear it from you... Please just say something."
He looked down at his feet, "I'm sorry." Was all he said. You stayed silent, urging him to continue. He looked up at you and met your gaze, eyes full of regret and a little bit of tears. "I never should've hid it from you."
There was your confirmation.
Spencer was, in fact, Spider-Man.
"I just wanted to keep you safe."
"Keep me safe? You wanted to keep me safe by driving me away?" You frowned, voice a little aggravated.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "No." His voice was soft and quiet, almost a whisper.
You stepped forward, reaching your hands out and grasping his in your own.
"And I'm so sorry for making you worry and hurt and think that I don't love you anymore," his voice began to tremble. "I still love you... so so much. More than you will ever know... I just thought that if you knew, someone bad would use you against me and put you in danger. I don't know how I could live without you. I can't."
Tears slipped down your cheeks. "I can't live without you either. That's why I've been so worried about you." You sniffed, taking another step closer to Spencer and cupping your hands on his cheeks. You wiped his tears with your thumbs and made him look at you.
He looks into your eyes, "Y/n?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm Spider-Man."
You let out a giggle, a bittersweet smile forming on your face. "I know."
Spencer shook his head, "I should've told you months ago, but I... just couldn't. You know why." You looked down and nodded your head. "And it's not because I don't trust you, I trust you with my life." You looked back up at him. "I didn't want to put you in danger."
You nodded your head.
"But now that you know, I won't keep anything from you anymore. It killed me to see you hurting and I hate that I caused that. You deserve the world, and I promise to never keep secrets like this from you ever again," Spencer spoke with full truth in his voice. It was refreshing to hear.
You raised an eyebrow, "That's a big promise."
He smiled at you and gripped your waist. "I know, and I plan to keep it."
Smiles formed on both of your faces. You removed your hand from Spencer's face and held it out, pinky up. He chuckled and held his own up, curling it around yours as you both held it tightly.
A minute went by and your dropped your hands to your sides, but your fingers were still attached. The thick tension in the air turned into comfort, and silence overcame you both once again.
Both of you stared into each others eyes, faces moving closer together slowly. Eventually, Spencer had enough and shot a web out of his free hand, pulling you flush against his body rapidly. A squeal left your lips, but Spencer's were quick to shut you up, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. It was filled with unspoken feelings and love and passion.
He was glad to have you back.
And as your kissing continued, you made a mental note to text Angela that you won't be coming back to her place tonight. You were coming home. To Spencer. To your Spider-boy.
———
A few days later, you now had all your stuff back at home from Angela's, even though she was a little sad that you were leaving. You laughed as she gave you a tight hug, reminding her that she would see you the next day at work and she can visit you anytime she wanted.
It was late as you walked up to your front door, your backpack slung over your shoulder and your house keys in-hand. It was a quiet night and the only light that lit up the area was the street light, making your vision impaired just a little. The porch light flickered and wasn't very bright so it didn't help with your vision too much, it just helped you see when you got closer to it.
As you neared the front door, something fell from the sky in front of you, stopping you in your tracks as you screamed. A hand quickly flew to your mouth and shut you up.
You removed the hand, "Spencer, what the hell?!" You saw his face and the smirk that was plastered all over it faintly in the light. He was hanging upside down from his web that connected to the roof. He's at the perfect height, his face sitting right in front of your own.
He cackled, "Sorry, babe! You should've seen your face!" He contorted his face into an exaggerated horrified expression, his free hand slapped against his cheek.
You rolled your eyes, "You're such a dork, Spider-boy."
Spencer moved his hand and grinned at you, "But you love it, tiger."
"Yes I do," you beamed, looking at him like he was the only person in the world and you would do absolutely anything for him. The look of love.
He lifted his free hand and cupped your cheek, pulling your face closer to his. He softly pressed his lips to yours, but you deepened it by grabbing his face with both of your hands, fingers dipping into his curls.
You stood there for a few minutes, lips moving together in sync. Minds distracted, you and Spencer don't notice the two cop cars zooming past your house. Sirens blared loudly and the moment was sadly ruined. You separated from the kiss and glanced at your boyfriend half-lidded.
He groaned, "Duty calls."
A giggle left your lips, "Go get 'em, Spider-boy." Spencer smiled at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He was so glad you knew his secret now. His once difficult and lonely job became much easier, and he was happy to have you as his personal cheerleader.
Spencer pecked your lips and jumped down from his upside down position. His hands moved at a fast pace as he grabbed his mask from what seemed like his ass—you didn't know where the hell he stored that thing.
Walking backwards towards the road, your boyfriend had his mask bunched up at his forehead and stopped. His eyes never left yours. "I'll be back soon. I love you."
For the millionth time this week, you grinned at him with hearts in your eyes. "I love you too." And then he was off, mask pulled down over his face as he swung away from your house and into the city.
Even though the last few weeks had been rough with your relationship, you’re more than happy that everything worked out. You don't know what you would do without your nerdy Spider-boy, and neither did he.
Not gonna lie, you hated the fact that he risked his life almost every single day saving the city. But you knew deep down that Spencer could take care of himself, I mean, he did for months before you found out about his identity anyway.
That didn't stop you from supporting him though.
After you and Spencer restored your relationship, the people of Los Angeles noticed a difference in the hero. He fought with more passion and worked harder to keep everyone safe. He was a changed man. A better man.
That's your Spencer, a good man and an incredible hero.
