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breakmeoffapieceofthatkitkat · 19 hours ago

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Married Life - Chapter 1

Y/N finds out she needs to be married within the week, and Spencer is committed to the bit. It is a bit, right?

Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

Warnings: passing of a distant relative, I think thats it

Word Count: 2.6k

~~~

You were well known amongst your friends for ignoring phone calls. Friends, family, unknown numbers, spam calls —you name it —you were notoriously bad about answering the phone unless your work directly depended on it. In your line of work as an administrator and cast member at Smosh, you got plenty of phone calls, both on the work line and your personal number. So many, in fact, that unless you were expecting a work call, you completely ignored the incessant ringing of your phone because you were just that sick of phone calls.

However, as you sat at your desk on a regular Wednesday afternoon, you felt an inexplicable urge to answer your phone as it started buzzing against the wood of your desk, an unknown number displayed on the screen. You truly weren’t sure what came over you as you lifted the phone to your ear and pressed the ‘answer’ button before you could stop yourself. Almost immediately, a voice came through the phone.

“Hello, is this Ms. Y/N L/N?” a middle-aged man said.

You swallowed thickly. “Yes,” you began slowly, “May I ask who this is?”

“My name is Calvin Lloyd,” the voice said professionally, “I’m calling to let you know that your great uncle has passed away. I was his attorney. I’m very sorry for your loss.” You felt your face contort into an expression of confusion. You and your great uncle weren’t close. In fact, he hadn’t been close with anyone in the family. He was quite the hermit, albeit a rather wealthy one. Why were you hearing this from some stuffy attorney, as opposed to one of your parents?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lloyd, I just don’t quite understand… why exactly are you calling me?” you inquired softly, trying to avoid drawing attention around the office by raising your voice.

“Ms. l/n, it would appear you are the sole beneficiary of your great uncle's will. All of his assets are set to go to you.” Calvin Lloyd’s voice explained matter-of-factly. You didn’t understand. You? Sole beneficiary? You hardly knew the man. Why on earth was he leaving everything to you? You said nothing, Calvin continued, “But there’s a catch: he made it clear that his assets may only be transferred if you are married.”

MARRIED? Well, there went your chances of living a life of luxury in your great uncle's mansion. You were painfully single. “Mr. Lloyd, is there any other way?” you asked, praying silently he would say this was all a big joke.

“I’m afraid not.” his tone was deadpan, void of any emotion. “The official will reading is next Saturday. Bring your husband,” the line clicked, and then it was silent. You merely stared forward, in shock, trying to do the mental gymnastics of how you could possibly be married in 10 short days to receive the contents of the will. You weren’t having a lot of luck.

Your pondering bled into lunch, and your coworkers noticed the absence of your usual bubbly self. As you sat at your usual lunch table, surrounded by Shayne, Courtney, Alex, Bailey, and Spencer, your silence did not go unnoticed, as you’d hoped it would.

Your friends looked around at each other, trying to decide who would speak first while you picked at your pasta. Eventually, Courtney finally spoke: “Y/N, is everything okay? you’re much quieter than usual.”

You looked up from your food to meet her concerned gaze, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, just thinking…” You trailed off as your friends looked at you expectantly, “I found out that my great uncle died earlier today.”

You felt Bailey grab your hand comfortingly and gasp softly. “Oh, my Gosh!” She said gently, “I’m so sorry, Y/N! Can we do anything to help you?”

You placed your other hand on top of hers and squeezed, shaking your head slowly. “No, no, it’s okay. I hardly knew him. That’s not what’s on my mind. Apparently I’m the sole beneficiary of his will.”

A collective gasp sounded around the table. “Pause,” Alex said, putting his hand up, “You hardly knew the guy, but you’re the sole inheritor? What’s up with that?”

“Just wait, it gets even better,” you smirked. Bailey was still stroking your hand soothingly. Shayne and Spencer shared an inquisitive glance. Courtney leaned toward you, her chin in her hands, expectant. Alex just cocked his head. “To inherit his assets, I need to be married.” You revealed, laughing as your friends went somewhat wild, looking at each other in shock.

Shayne looked at you, his hands on his head in astonishment. “Y/N, what?” He demanded, “Married??” You nodded grimly.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. Like, how am I gonna get married by next Saturday? And I need to get married by next Saturday because, not to be blunt, or greedy, or anything, but this guy was… well… crazy rich.” A confused silence hung around the table, everyone looking around in utter confusion. You looked around at your friends, trying to gauge their reactions and encourage them to give you advice. As your eyes swept the table, they found Spencer’s, big and shiny, calculating, yet soft, and set steadfast on you. His cheeks went pink, and he averted his eyes, realizing he’d been caught staring.

Before anyone could break the silence, Spencer’s phone buzzed against the table, displaying an alarm on the screen. He began to stand, gathering his things. “Shit, guys, we gotta be on set in 15 minutes.” The rest of you began to follow suit, you lingering a beat longer than everyone else, still contemplating. By the time you finally stood, eyes fixed on the ground, all of your friends had left to collect themselves and prepare for the imminent shoot.

Or so you thought.

As you approached the door, you felt a hand catch your wrist, anchoring you in place. As you turned, you found Spencer. He stood awkwardly, his free hand fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, rubbing his weathered boots together subtly. His touch was so gentle, you barely felt it, and his eyes were shining with something you couldn’t quite place. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, pausing a moment before he spoke, as if talking himself up. “I’ll do it,” he said finally, simply.

You furrowed your eyebrows, searching his face for answers. All you found was hope, kindness. “What?” You uttered, breathless.

“I’ll do it,” He repeated, more confident now, “I’ll marry you, Y/N.” He shifted so instead of holding your wrist, he was holding your hand. Your breath caught in your throat. You felt an unfamiliar warmth blooming where your hands touched. Too many years of being single, you told yourself.

You shook your head, breaking eye contact to stare at your interlinked hands. “You don’t have to do that, Spencer.” You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly with your free hand, the one that wasn’t in Spencer’s. “Thank you, I really appreciate it, but…” You trailed off, “Getting married is no joke, Spence. I can’t ask you to do that.” Spencer was undeniably one of your closest friends. He was someone who truly understood you, really knew you. Who got all your jokes, who knew your favorite foods and movies, who you trusted with your life. Marriage was bound to change things, to make things awkward, and you didn’t want anything to change. You couldn’t risk this.

Spencer squeezed your hand, then released it, leaving it to drop limply back to your side, suddenly cold without his touch. He shook his head, smiling gently. “You don’t have to ask me. I’m offering,” he countered, his tone soft and playful.

“Spencer-” you began to plead, your tone strained, before Spencer cut you off.

“Just think about it.” He moved towards the door. “Okay?” He mused, before disappearing, not even waiting for a response from you.

—

Throughout your shoot, a good ol’ Moosemaster video for Smosh Games, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer’s offer, imagining his gentle, teasing smile and the warmth of his hand in yours. You were off your game, and you knew it. You did your best to act normal, to be funny, to put on a brave, excited face for the camera, but you knew you were being quieter than normal. Your castmates did, too. You kept involuntarily staring at Spencer, sitting behind the camera, fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie, and calling out directions periodically. More than once, when you looked to him, you found his eyes already fixed on you. He’d just smile, like things were normal. You weren’t so good at pretending.

As Spencer called cut and the shoot came to a close, you welcomed the end, glad you could drop your peppy facade and go back to thinking. You were back at your desk, collecting your things to leave for the day, when you heard a soft cough behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Spencer. When you finally turned around, he smiled, cocked his head. “Can I walk you to your car?” He inquired simply.

You nodded swiftly, slinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way towards the door, bidding farewell to your coworkers who hadn’t yet left. The cool night air hit you as the two of you left the office, making you shiver slightly. The two of you were both silent, engaged in some weird game of chicken, waiting to see who would speak first.

Spencer eventually caved, sighing before beginning, “So, have you thought about it?”

You cleared your throat softly. “I have,” You answered, your voice barely above a whisper. You arrived at your car, and Spencer leaned against it in a charming, relaxed manner. You swallowed thickly. “You don’t have to do this, Spencer.”

“I know I don’t, Y/N,” He smiled softly, running a hand through his messy curls, “I’m not doing this out of obligation. I understand what I’m proposing. I just wanna help out my friend.” He smiled wryly. You released a breath you’d hardly realized you’d been holding.

You shrugged. “Alright then,” you murmured, “Thank you, Spencer, seriously. I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am that you’d do this for me.” You pressed the button on your key fob that unlocked the car. Spencer followed you around to the driver’s side, opening the door for you.

“Oh, Y/N,” he breathed, “I would do anything for you.” You felt your face flush uncomfortably at his words, and you weren’t entirely sure why. This wasn’t a real relationship; he was your friend. He probably said it as a joke, anyway. You placed your bag into the passenger seat, conveniently giving you an opportunity to turn away, hiding your face.

When you turned back, he was leaning over your door, supporting himself on the roof of your car. “Goodnight, Future Wife,” He mused, a teasing smile spreading across his face.

You chuckled, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Goodnight, Future Husband,” You replied. With that, he swung your car door shut, disappearing off to his own car. Your stomach turned as you drove away, unsure how to feel.

—

You arrived at the office the next morning expecting a normal day of filming, administrative work, writing, and hopefully not phone calls. You couldn’t have been more wrong. The office was emptier than it usually was at this time of day. You off handedly wondered where on earth everyone was. When you arrived at your desk, you found a note sitting on your keyboard, unmistakably Spencer’s messy scrawl. ‘Meet me in the Games Stage. We need to talk. -S’ it read. You assumed he’d changed his mind about this whole thing, and you really didn’t blame him. Marriage wasn’t just something you jumped into willy nilly. It was a sacred institution. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to save that for someone he actually loved. You just wished he’d thought of this before he volunteered, and before you got your hopes up.

Your hands shook as you walked to the Games stage, your eyes fixed on the ground. You tried to think of what your next step could be. Could you find someone else who’d be willing to marry you? Or was it time to throw in the towel?

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you swung open the door to the Games stage. Your friends were all there, holding scented candles, plants, fake flowers, and whatever they’d been able to find around the office. Spencer was on one knee, a ring pop in his hands (The red one, your favorite). Shayne was behind him, holding a very shoddily made poster that said ‘Will you marry me?’. Clearly, the art department had not been involved.

You gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth. You were frozen in place until someone took you by the arm and gently pushed you forward. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Spencer, him smiling up at you proudly.

“Y/N,” he said your name softly, intimately. He took your hand. “If we’re gonna do this- and we are gonna do this- I wanna do it right, albeit maybe a little bit funny.” You didn’t speak, just glanced between Spencer, the ring pop, your friends, and the sign, your mouth slightly agape. “What do you say. Y/N? Will you marry me?”

You laughed, both overjoyed and completely astonished, and nodded, still a little bit too shocked to speak. Spencer slipped the ring pop onto your finger as your friends cheered. This was all a bit, hell, it was probably getting filmed for a video, or at the very least a tiktok. So why were there butterflies in your stomach? Why did it feel so real? Spencer stood and hugged you tightly. “Thank you,” You whispered, quiet enough for only him to hear, “This is perfect.”

As he pulled away, he smiled, murmuring, “Of course, Y/N. My future wife deserves the best. He winked, and your stomach flipped. He was your friend. This marriage wasn’t real. Why wouldn’t your body quit acting like it was?

Behind Spencer, Courtney cheered, “Ladies and gentlemen!! The future Mr. and Mrs. Y/N L/N!” Everyone else joined in, cheering indistinctly. You jokingly showed off your ring, feigning a swoon. Everyone laughed.

Afterwards, you and Spencer decided it would be funny to make a story out of this, because what is a fake proposal even for if not content? (And confusing your feelings). He posted a picture Bailey had taken: Spencer’s arm around you, both of you doing silly faces, and you displaying the ring pop proudly. He captioned it ‘she said yes ;)’. The two of you laughed together about how wild the fans would go, but agreed no explanation would be given. This was, despite being fake, for you and you alone.

You could feel yourself flush every time you remembered the proposal for the rest of the day: sitting at your desk, in a TNTL shoot, in the kitchen. You thought about it a lot, to be truthful, your stomach twisting uncomfortably each time. Were these nerves? Regret? You didn’t know. You wouldn’t mind if it were one of those. You were more scared of one specific thing: Love. You couldn’t fall for Spencer. Kind, clever, funny, cute Spencer. He was your friend. You were friends. And he was ever so generously agreeing to marry you. He didn’t like you like that, this was just how he was. He did this kind of thing for his friends.

You couldn’t fall for him. You couldn’t ruin this.

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x you #spencer agnew fanfiction #smosh #smosh x reader #smosh fanfiction

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breakmeoffapieceofthatkitkat · 8 days ago

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Somethin' Stupid like 'I love you'

Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

Word count: 6.1k

Summary: Y/N is able to manage her crush on Spencer until they duet a love song on a karaoke livestream.

Inspired by Somethin Stupid by Frank and Nancy Sinatra!! I'm so obsessed with the harmonies, which is what inspired me to write this. If you haven't heard the song pleaseeeeee go listen to it! Also, this is the first thing I've written in a while and my first fic on tumblr, so go easy on me! Thanks, yall!

You rubbed your temples as you sat at your desk, staring at the blinking cursor of a blank Word document. In your three years at Smosh as an editor, turned PA, turned cast member, you had learned a lot: how to make an enticing thumbnail, how to be comfortable on camera, how to be a good assistant, that you much preferred meetings and shooting to slow, lazy afternoons in front of your computer. One thing that you had yet to learn was how to get past the excruciating writer’s block you so often encountered towards the end of a long week. Your mind was as blank as your computer screen. This was not good.

It had been a good day. Nothing out of the ordinary, but good nonetheless. You came into the office early, partially to do some extra editing, and partially because your friend, coworker, and boss, Spencer, who happened to be your ride since your car was in the shop and he lived nearby, needed to get to work early to finish prepping for the day’s ‘Shayne Guesses’. It was mostly the latter. No one was surprised when you put off the editing you’d insisted you needed to do, instead electing to sit on the couch by Spencer’s desk, chatting with him and scrolling on TikTok aimlessly. You felt your face heat up as you scrolled onto an edit of Spencer himself, quickly saving the video and scrolling on. For later, you thought.

People began trickling into the previously empty office, greeting you and Spencer as they passed, pouring themselves coffee and finding their way to their desks. You glanced up from your screen, feeling a gentle hand on your shoulder, and saw Courtney walking past the back of the couch, Shayne next to her. They stuck their tongue out at you as they passed. “Hey, Cutie,” she mused, giving you a small wave, “You’re in early.”

You stuck your tongue out and waved back. “Yeah… I was meant to be editing, but…” You trailed off, holding up your phone, TikTok still lighting up your screen, “You can see how well that’s going.” You heard Spencer scoff without looking away from his computer screen. “Shut up, Spencer!” Courtney and Shayne both giggled as they walked away.

Within 15 minutes, everyone in the office had gathered in the common area for the morning meeting. You lounged over the back of Angela’s chair, smiling as you listened to Spencer give some announcements about the plan for the imminent ‘Shayne Guesses our Baby Photos’ video. The meeting immediately became vastly more boring when Spencer passed the baton to Ian and Anthony for their announcements. It wasn’t that you didn’t care, per se, it’s just that Ian and Anthony didn’t have the same adorable smile or slutty little glasses that Spencer did.

Everyone stood and split off as the meeting came to a close. You stood up straight from your position over Angela’s shoulder and stretched, cracking your sore back and neck. You jumped slightly, feeling a firm hand on your shoulder and quickly spinning on your heel, only to be met with those very glasses and that same smile. He offered you your clipboard with an outstretched arm, and you couldn’t fight the urge to trace his tattoos with your eyes, down the toned line of his bicep. You felt your stomach do a somersault, wishing you could trace the inked lines for real. “Hey, Y/N, you ready?” You took the clipboard and looked away quickly, hoping to hide the hot flush that you could feel creeping up your neck.

You followed him into the Smosh Games stage, where you found Shayne getting mic’d up and some of your fellow crew members setting up the cameras and sound equipment. Spencer donned his headset as he sat down in his chair, pulling out the chair next to him before gesturing for you to sit. You smiled and murmured a thank you, internally glowing at his gesture, no matter how small it may have been.

The video began, and Shayne began his guessing. It always shocked you how good he was at guessing things about his coworkers, although you supposed that these may have been easier to guess, given that they were childhood photographs and all. As the video continued, you and Spencer bantered back and forth in a low whisper, joking about how cute all your friends were as babies. You rubbed your eyes, willing the week’s exhaustion to disappear.

Throughout the whole video, you’d felt a pit of anticipation in your stomach, waiting for your baby photo to show up. Eventually, the time came: Shayne clicked the next button, and there you were. It was objectively a goofy photo. Little you, holding a rainbow snow cone with a stained mouth and sticky fingers, a silly smile on your tiny lips. You felt a jab in your ribs as Spencer giggled. Shayne broke out into a big, toothy grin. “Aww, this one’s a cutie,” He giggled. “I’ll be honest, this expression is giving Y/N. The snow cone, too, actually.” He glanced behind the camera at you, flushing, and Spencer, giggling, before looking back to the camera, his lips pressed into a thin line of a smirk. “Alright,” He said matter-of-factly, “You guys can’t see it, but Spencer just poked Y/N and giggled, so I know it’s her.” He clicked the next button again, and your name popped up on the screen, confirming his suspicions.

Spencer leaned over to you, tapping you on the knee as Shayne moved on with the video. “You were a cute kid,” He paused for a beat. “I guess some things never change.” You could feel your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning, and you knew you were bright pink. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on the side of your face as you tucked your hair behind your ear. He could undoubtedly see your flushed face. It certainly wasn’t dark enough in the studio to hide it anymore.

Shayne found you after the cameras quit rolling and the shoot wrapped, giving you a knowing smirk. “So, you two are cozy, huh?” he accused. He didn’t specify who you were cozy with. He didn’t need to. You felt a blush bloom across your face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you insisted in a strained, high pitched, flustered tone of voice, trying your best to think of a excuse to run, but having no luck.

Shayne put up his hands, as if surrendering, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Sure,” he drew out the word accusitorily, teasing you subtly, “Whatever you say, Y/N.” You turned on your heel and scurried away, hearing Shayne call after you. “He’d say yes, you know!” Shayne must’ve been confused, you told yourself. Would Spencer really say yes? You wished.

Unfortunately, that was your only shoot of the morning, and you’d have to spend the rest of the day in meetings, or worse, alone at your desk. Ugh. What a drag. You had a meeting to brainstorm for Smosh Games and a meeting with the art department to help plan the next episode of Bit City. You were much more excited for one of these meetings, and despite your love of Bit City, it was not the art department meeting. The art department didn’t have Spencer.

The Games meeting, however, did have Spencer. That wasn’t the only reason you liked it, of course. You loved talking about games, brainstorming stupid bits, and thinking of new and innovative video ideas. Even more so, though, you loved watching Spencer talking about games, brainstorming stupid bits, and thinking of new video ideas.

After the meetings and lunch, here you were, at your desk, staring blankly at your screen. You spun mindlessly in your chair a few times, surveying the office. Everyone who wasn’t in a shoot looked like they were being much more productive than you were. You sighed, trying your best to work, so as not to be the weak link of the office. It was no use. Despite having a relatively slow day, the week was taking its toll on you. You slumped, resting your chin in your hand as you continued to watch the cursor blink, as if taunting you for your inability to do your fucking job.

Suddenly, you heard a dull ‘thunk!’ next to you on your desk, and looked up to see Spencer there, having placed a mug on your desk. He looked at you with a soft, gentle smile playing on his lips. You cocked your head, confused, looking between Spencer and the cup in his hand a few times. Spencer rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, smiling bigger now. “I uh…” He paused, considering his words. “You’ve seemed kinda tired today. I just thought this might help. Y’know, make sure you can get through the rest of your boring day of writing and emails and stuff.”

A toothy grin broke out across your face. “Aw, Spencer, you didn’t have to do that! Thank you, dude, I needed this. This is so sweet of you.” You took the cup from his hand, feeling sparks where your fingers brushed. You took a sip, the comforting warmth of the beverage quickly spreading through your body, already making you feel better. “Oh my God! Spencer, this is perfect! How did you know how I take my coffee?” You demanded jokingly, beaming up at the man and continuing to sip your drink.

He shrugged nonchalantly, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “I know you, Y/N,” he said softly, almost a whisper. He turned and walked away, presumably to his own desk, but stopped in his tracks a few paces away from you. He turned, exclaiming, “See ya later, Y/N. Your carriage awaits!” He did a silly fake bow before continuing his path away from you.

You giggled, taking another sip of your coffee.

He knew you?

The rest of the day was significantly better. You were actually able to get some work done, for one thing. Then, you got to have a fun car ride with Spencer, and best of all, you got to go home, eat instant ramen, and watch a movie in your PJs with your cat, Roxie.

—

You must have fallen asleep on the couch while watching your movie, because the next thing you knew, your alarm was blaring, interrupting the relaxing peace you had managed to find in the heap of blankets on your couch. You heaved yourself up, stretched, and checked your phone. You had a few notifications: Some texts from the Smosh Girls group chat, some texts from Angela individually, and a Slack message from Bailey, demanding you send in your screenshots for the day’s episode of ‘Phone it in’. Shit. You scrambled to go into your Google searches, texts, and photos. You should’ve waited till you were more together, should’ve known that your freshly awake self would pick rather incriminating screenshots. But you didn’t.

Your morning passed in a haze, and somehow, after being revived by a few cups of coffee, you found yourself in the block of chairs where cast and crew sat during Phone it in, Courtney on your left and Angela on your right. Sitting in front of the camera, preparing to compete in the video, were Spencer, Amanda, and Trevor. You couldn’t fully recall what pre-coffee you had submitted, which, frankly, scared you.

The video kicked off with Tommy explaining the premise and introducing the contestants. “Alright!” Tommy said with a broad gesture, “Let the guessing begin!” You watched as the three tried to guess your coworkers based on their phones, laughing, joking, and trying (and failing) to guess along. “Time for our next phone. Let’s see those Google searches!” Tommy pointed to the screen, chuckling. You blinked, reading the screen. You thought for a second, and then it clicked. This was you. “‘Best antique stores near me’, ‘Car warning lights’, And ‘can i buy Arizona in bulk’...” Tommy trailed off, turning to look at the camera, then the contestants. “Any thoughts on who this might be?” Spencer was already scribbling on his whiteboard, while Amanda and Trevor looked confused.

“Wait, wait, this person wants to buy the state of Arizona? I’m so confused,” Amanda shook her head at her own confusion. Spencer choked on a laugh. Tommy and Trevor cackled.

Tommy gave her a pitying look. “No, Amanda,” he rubbed his temples in disbelief. “They want to buy AriZona Iced Tea. It’s okay, you’re doing great!” Amanda slumped over onto the table at his words. Tommy then turned his attention to Spencer. “So, you’re already locked in. Anything to say about that?” He looked at Spencer expectantly.

Spencer merely shrugged. “I mean, it was kind of a gut instinct thing. I know someone in this office who really likes AriZona, and I could imagine this person also enjoying antique shopping, and I know their car is in the shop right now.” His eyes found yours somewhere throughout his sentence, and he smirked, almost imperceptibly. The tips of your ears burned crimson as he continued to hold eye contact for a moment or two.

“Alright, alright, good stuff. Let’s see that text message!” Tommy exclaimed, pointing at the screen again as your texts were revealed. Tommy, as well as everyone else in the room, gasped. Oh. My. God. You could not believe what you had submitted. Your heart was pounding a million miles a minute. Through laughter, Tommy said, “For those of you who can’t read it, this person says, ‘oh my god, you don’t understand. i NEED him’ need in all caps, by the way,” Tommy added before continuing reading, “‘i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism,’ To which someone else says ‘good lord’” Tommy was cackling. You were trying to hide your face from the contestants without being too obvious, sure that your exponentially reddening face would give you away.”

Amanda gasped. “Oh, I know! I know!” She scribbled something down on her whiteboard. “I have had a very similar conversation with someone, and I can’t really think of anyone else that would say this, so…” She trailed off with a knowing smile. Trevor still looked lost.

Tommy pointed at the TV again, and the image was revealed. You laughed as you saw it, despite having submitted it yourself that very morning. It was a bright blue bra with Weezer on it. Wow, what had you been thinking?

The room broke out into laughter again. “Dude!” Trevor shouted, “What is this?? What am I supposed to do with this?!” He sighed dejectedly and wrote down a name. “I don’t know about this, but… I don’t know who else to put.”

“Trevor, let’s see what you put!” Tommy announced as Trevor turned his whiteboard around, showing Angela’s name. Tommy cocked his head. “Yeah, I’m not feeling good about that for you, Trevor,” he laughed.

Trevor shrugged. “I was really going off the Weezer bra. It seems like something that Angela would laugh at.” Angela shrugged next to you, as if agreeing. She had laughed at the Weezer bra, to be fair.

Tommy moved on to Amanda, asking her to turn her board around, revealing your name. You smiled sheepishly as she looked at you. Spencer was then instructed to turn his board, also revealing Y/N in his messy scrawl. “Let’s see, is it Y/N?” Tommy asked, pointing again at the screen. A cheer erupted as your name appeared on the screen. “Y/N?” Tommy teased, “Wanna tell us who those texts were about?” The camera panned around towards you, bright red and covering your face with your hands.

“Absolutely not!” You shouted.

Angela, the receiver of the text messages you had submitted, leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Oh my god, I cannot believe you submitted those texts. You’re just lucky you cropped out the one before that about Spencer bringing you coffee.”

—

Later that afternoon, you found yourself back at your desk, head in your hand, only somewhat more productive than the day before. You heard what vaguely sounded like the wheels on a desk chair, swiftly approaching, but you didn’t tear your eyes away from your screen until you glimpsed a can being placed on your desk out of the corner of your eye. When you turned, you saw Spencer, a can of AriZona in one hand, in the midst of being placed on your desk, and a can of Mountain Dew Kickstart in the other, presumably for him. He tilted his head and smiled playfully, nudging the AriZona towards you, but saying nothing. You smile back, grabbing the can and cracking it open with a satisfying ‘hiss’. He did the same with his own beverage. “Is this gonna be our new thing?” You joked, “You bringing me drinks to get me to work?”

Spencer laughed. The sound was like nothing you’d ever heard. It was beautiful, soft, angelic, almost. Music to your ears. “Hey,” he said, matching your tone, “Whatever gets you to do your job.” You fake-glared at him, shoving him playfully. “No, but, seriously… I just…” Spencer continued, running his free hand through his dark curls, his tone becoming genuine, “Thought you might like it, I guess. Those Google searches of yours make me think you might like AriZona juuuuuust a little bit.”

You took a long sip from your drink, hoping it would help hide the blush creeping across your face. “Thank you, Spencer. This is really sweet of you.” You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Spencer coughed awkwardly, breaking the long eye contact that you two had been holding, instead electing to stare at his can of Kickstart.

“So, those texts,” He began, teasingly, “Who’s this lucky guy?” He laughed, but you could almost see a pink hue dusting his cheeks.

You scoffed, turning away in your chair dramatically to hide your matching pink flush. “There is no way in hell I would tell anyone that! It’s a secret, Spencer!” Spencer cocked his head, a mixture of confusion and disappointment painting his features. “So!” You scrambled to change the subject. “Are you ready for the karaoke livestream later? It’s gonna be great!”

His expression shifted to a smile. “Yeah, we’re all ready.” His voice was soft, and he smiled gently. “What about you? Got any good songs lined up for this evening?”

You smiled devilishly as you clicked to another tab, revealing a list. “Do I ever!”

Espresso – Sabrina Carpenter

Silver Spring – Fleetwood Mac

Picture you – Chappell Roan

Freak – Doja Cat

Somethin’ Stupid – Frank Sinatra and Nancy Sinatra

From the Start – Laufey

Lovefool – The Cardigans

December, 1963 – Frankie Valli

Piano Man – Billy Joel

Spencer’s eyes scanned the list, stopping on Somethin’ Stupid. He turned to you, grinning. “Somethin’ stupid would be so great,” He insisted, grasping your shoulder now, “It’s cute, sweet, very you.” Your face was insanely hot, and you knew it. Surely, Spencer did too. He had eyes.

You merely shrugged. “I’d really like to do it, but I want to do the original duet, and I just don’t know who’d do it with me. I really love the harmonies, y’know? I just need someone to sing the melody,” You rambled nervously, gaining momentum by the second. “Maybe Court? Or Angela? I just don’t know. I don’t wanna spring it on them, but I haven’t asked or anything, and-”

Spencer’s grip on your shoulder tightened. “I’ll do it!” He exclaimed, cutting off your rambling. “If- I- Uh- If you’ll have me, that is!” He smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his increasingly messy hair again. He was definitely getting pink now.

You nearly leapt from your chair. Your heart leapt into your throat. You had to keep your mouth shut to keep it and all your feelings from pouring out. You nodded enthusiastically. “Would you really?” You cheered, grasping Spencer’s hand, “That would be great! I don’t know what to say. Thank you, thank you!” You could hardly contain your excitement.

Spencer stood, beginning to make his way back to his own desk. “Alright then,” he chuckled sheepishly, “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

“See you later, Spence!” The nickname tasted sweet on your tongue. “Thank you again!”

—

Soon, you found yourself on the Smosh Games stage, perched on the classic couch amongst your closest friends as the crew bustled about, getting the stream set up. Courtney and Damien stood in front of the two microphones, giggling and joking to one another. Suddenly, Spencer’s voice echoed through the room, announcing the start of the stream. “3, 2, 1, and we’re live!” Immediately, Courtney and Damien broke into song.

You couldn’t stop laughing. You absolutely adored when you got to do karaoke with your friends. Hearing them sing, singing together, laughing and joking, and even showing off your own singing voice, while raising money for something you cared about? It was one of your favorite things you had ever done at Smosh. Your friends were busting out some real bangers tonight, and you were living for it. As Damien and Ian’s rendition of The Saga Begins came to a close, you felt eyes land on you. “Y/N, do you wanna go next?” Courtney volun-told you, pushing you out of your seat.

You stood, your eyes meeting Spencer’s silently asking, Do you still want this? Do you want me? He caught your gaze, smiling, giving you a swift nod as he stood as well. He whispered your song choice to Alex before coming into the light. “Alright,” he said, looking at you, “You ready for this?”

You put on a brave face, internally buzzing. You shouldn’t have been so giddy. It was a favor, nothing more. Your friend volunteered to sing a duet with you, you weren’t a teenage girl being brought backstage by Harry Styles for a meet and greet. You shook your hands, trying to calm the storm of butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh, I’m ready. The real question,” You paused, glancing around at your castmates, then at the cameras, “Is if they are ready.”

Spencer looked between you and the camera, smirking. “Trust me, they aren’t ready. Hit it, Alex!”

The opening notes of Somethin’ Stupid floated gently through the studio. It was a starkly different vibe from the last song, but somehow, it couldn’t have felt more right. The lights were insanely bright. You felt like you’d been put on the spot, hung out to dry, scared in a way you’d never felt in a karaoke livestream before. Probably because you’d never sung a love song with your crush in one of these things, you noted off-handedly. You glanced to your left and saw Spencer already looking at you, a dumb smile on his face. He nodded reassuringly, looking almost as nervous as you felt.

I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me

And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me

The rest of the people in the room seemed to fall away. The lights seemed to dim. You could hear your friends cheering for you softly, almost distantly, but your eyes didn’t leave Spencer’s. As you sang, it was just the two of you. No lights, no cameras, no castmates, no crew, no hundreds of thousands of people watching. Just you two.

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two

And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

Your face was hot, and you felt like puking. After singing “I love you,” you managed to tear yourself from Spencer’s gaze, glancing around the room and into the camera. You were vaguely aware of your friends watching in awe, of the dropped jaws, the whispering. The moment was intimate, too intimate for a livestream being watched by thousands of people. You’d seen the comments and edits shipping you, hell, you sought them out. You knew that the fans were having a field day with this. You kept singing, forcing down the sick, nervous feeling in your chest.

I can see it in your eyes, that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before

And though it's just a line to you, for me it's true, and never seemed so right before

I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true

But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late, and I'm alone with you

Somehow, you were gazing lovingly into Spencer’s eyes again, and he was doing the same. You’d never seen him quite like this: Soft, gentle, nervous as can be. He looked at you through his eyelashes, flirtatiously, sheepishly, and you wondered how much of this was for the camera and how much was real. You tried to keep yourself from getting your hopes up, but it was too late.

The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

The instrumental break came, and you welcomed the break from singing, swallowing back your feelings, and looking over to your friends on the couch. They all looked, to put it simply, dumbfounded. Courtney gave you an encouraging nod and a smile. Shayne shot you two thumbs up. Angela just excitedly mouthed Oh my God!

The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

"I love you"

Despite the song ending, Spencer and you stood completely still, merely staring at each other. He had a lovesick, dumb smile painted on his lips, which you were sure mirrored your own. You could faintly hear the cast and crew calling out to you, asking if you were okay, but you didn’t care. You just kept staring. The space between you two, mere inches between the two mic stands, felt electrically charged. You had so much you wanted to say, so much to finally tell Spencer, and yet your mind drew a blank. You had no words to describe how you felt in that moment. Nervous, excited, flustered, breathless, slightly embarrassed. None of it was enough. You felt like you were flying, like all the air in your lungs had turned to helium and floated you into the air. Spencer’s, too. It was just the two of you, soaring through the air together as everything and everyone else fell away.

There was nothing but you, Spencer, and the warm, fuzzy, electric haze hovering between you. You could kiss him. You really wanted to kiss him.

And then, Ian was between you, one hand on each of your shoulders, exclaiming something about moving on to the next song, and the moment was over.

You and Spencer went your separate ways: you went back to the couch with the rest of the cast, and Spencer went back to his place behind the camera. You plopped down next to Angela, who promptly grabbed your forearm. You met her shocked gaze, matching her expression, but trying to be as subtle as possible.

Angela leaned in, putting her lips by your ear. “Holy shit, Y/N,” she murmured, “What was that?” You shook your head and shrugged, trying to remain unnoticed by the cameras. “Y/N, that was like… insanely emotionally loaded. Either he’s a really great actor or he’s completely in love with you.”

You chuckled and shoved her playfully, brushing it off. “C’mon, Ang, I’m sure it’s not really like that. Don’t play with my heart, I can't handle it!” You pretended to faint, feigning offense.

She shoved you back, laughing. “I’m serious!” She insisted, keeping her voice low so the microphones couldn’t pick her up. “He practically had hearts for eyes.” You just shook your head and rolled your eyes, turning back to watch your friends singing.

The rest of the livestream, you could hardly tear your eyes away from Spencer, and he seemed to have the same problem: you caught his eyes lingering on you as he looked around the room more than once, and you felt heat flare in your cheeks each time. Maybe Angela was right? You tried not to get your hopes up. Every time you caught Spencer’s eye, they only got higher.

The stream ended with a chorus of ‘thank you’s and ‘goodbye’s from you and the rest of the cast, and just like that, your long, long week was over and you finally got to crash. All that was left was the car ride home with Spencer.

Oh, God, you realized with a start, freezing in your tracks, Spencer. This was gonna be one awkward car ride. Right on cue, you felt a hand fall on your shoulder. You turned slowly to find Spencer, with his cute, curly hair, and his glasses, and his goofy, sheepish smile. God, you liked him so much.

But you heard the lyrics of the song the two of you had sung. You had something good with him: A safe, comfortable friendship. An alignment in your sense of humor. Someone that you could trust, no matter what. You knew you had something rare, something once-in-a-lifetime, and you weren’t about to ruin it by telling him how you truly felt.

So you took a deep breath and shoved your feelings down as you climbed into the passenger seat of his car a few minutes later. The drive was quiet. You could feel Spencer glancing at you every few seconds, but you didn’t tear your eyes away from the window or say a word. You knew that if you looked at him, or god forbid, opened your mouth, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from word-vomiting your feelings all over.

As the car slowed to a stop outside your apartment building, you finally glanced up at Spencer, finding his gaze already on you. His eyes were wide and shiny, reflecting the Los Angeles city lights in a way that looked like stars. His lips parted slightly, and he took a breath like he was about to say something, but paused, clearly considering his words. “Listen, Y/N,” he began. You knew all too well where this was going. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, or You’re a really great friend, but…, or something equally horrible. You couldn’t handle that, not now. Collecting your things with a newfound haste, you stood, cutting him off.

“Thanks for the ride, Spence!” You exclaimed, your tone strained, “See you Monday!”

He looked straight ahead and swallowed thickly, not meeting your eyes as he responded, “Yeah… Yeah, see you.” You watched as his car peeled out into the street and slowly disappeared, standing on the stoop until all that was left of the vehicle was the red smear of taillights on the horizon, which very well could have belonged to anyone. You sighed and kept standing there, hoping beyond hope that his car would reappear. It didn’t.

—

An hour later, you were slumped on your couch, in your sweats, on a phone call with Angela. You’d shot Spencer a text about half an hour ago, letting him know you’d have your car back by Monday, so he wouldn’t need to drive you anymore. Read, no response. God, you chided yourself, you’d really done it this time.

“Y/N, I swear!” Angela gushed through the phone speakers, “I saw how he was looking at you. It was not a ‘just friends’ look or an ‘I hope she doesn’t take this the wrong way’ look. It was a ‘Please notice me, I will do anything for you’ look. It was written all over his face! He was seriously looking at you like you hung the moon just for him. Don’t be so hard on yourself!”

You shook your head, even though you knew Angela couldn’t see the gesture. “I appreciate you feeding my delusions, Ang, but at some point, I think I need to just cut my losses. He doesn’t like me. That’s just how it-” A knock at the door cut you off. You stood, murmuring something to Angela about having to answer the door real quick.

As you trudged through your apartment, weighed down by your long week, you began to wonder who on earth would be knocking on your door at this hour. You wondered, offhandedly, if you should get a weapon, but you told yourself it was probably just a package or something, nothing to worry about.

When your door swung open, nothing could have prepared you for what was behind it. There, on your doorstep, was Spencer, bouquet in his hand and stupid, sheepish grin on his face. You gasped softly when you saw him, frozen in your tracks. You knew your jaw was on the floor, and you couldn’t be bothered to pick it back up. “Angela…” You said softly, “I’m… I’m gonna need to call you back…”

The phone call ended with a click, and then you were met with silence again. Neither you nor Spencer spoke, just staring at each other for a moment. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what was happening. After what felt like years, you spoke, your throat dry and your voice soft and strained. “Spencer? What… What are you doing here?”

“Y/N.” You reveled in the way he said your name. Quiet, gentle. He exhaled your name like a sigh of relief, a realization, a promise. “I just-” He ran his free hand through his messy curls, “-I needed to see you. I couldn’t leave things the way we did. I don’t want it to be awkward. I want to tell you how I feel, and I want you to believe me, hence these,” he slightly gestured with the flowers.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move. You tried to snap out of it, assuming it must be a dream, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t wake up, and Spencer and his flowers stayed steadfast. This was real.

Spencer took your stunned silence as a cue to continue. “I love you, Y/N. So, so much, and I never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but,” His voice was hoarse and brittle, “I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I need you to know. It’s not just some bit for the camera, or some song on a livestream, it’s everything. You are everything. I’m sorry if this is weird, but I just… Yeah, I just needed you to know.” He looked down at his shoes, too embarrassed to meet your gaze.

“Spencer,” You breathed, taking a step forward. He looked up, his mouth gaping open in an expression of slight shock as you grabbed his free hand. You took another step closer. There was a mere breath between you two, now. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Spencer inched forward slightly, his eyes flicking to your lips. “Y/N, can I…?” He asked nervously. You said nothing. Instead, your lips crashed against his, your hands finding the back of his neck and pulling him in closer. The kiss was eager yet gentle, three years of quiet nights editing, gentle touches behind the camera, and inside jokes around the office. Three years of flirting on camera, sitting together at lunch, cozy game nights, and secrets. Three years of being best friends and yearning to be more. After a moment, Spencer’s hands found your waist and the back of your head. You heard the plastic wrapped around the flowers crinkle as they dropped to the ground, and frankly, you didn’t care.

As you kissed, you felt the stress of the week melting away. Everything suddenly fell into place, and you finally felt like things made sense. You felt complete.

You pulled away, but stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms, simply looking into each other’s eyes, taking the moment in.

“I never want to forget this moment,” You murmured, tipping your forehead against his. He leaned in and kissed you again, casual this time, like he had all the time in the world to kiss you. When he pulled away again, you glanced down, chuckling. “I wish I was wearing something nicer than my old sweats, though,” you said, half joking, half serious, smirking at him wryly.

He chuckled softly, looking you up and down slowly, as if revering you despite your attire. “Oh, hush,” He insisted, his tone full of love, “It’s perfect,” and then, softer, “You’re perfect.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. All of a sudden, your life was perfect.

Thank you sooooo much for reading!

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