benji this is mostly for you

Starting Fires

Bechloe One shot. Set during PP2. As the World’s and Graduation approach, Beca reflects on her and Chloe’s relationship

Rated M for language and some minor smut.

Also available on ff.net and ao3

Enjoy :)


It was never supposed to happen like this. College, you mean. Four years ago you had it all figured out; the plan was simple and easy to follow. You go to college for a year to keep your Dad off your case, get through the year mostly by sleeping through classes and going to the bare minimum (namely just enough psych 101 classes to keep yourself off the attendance office’s radar) before leaving to go to LA.

So no, it was never supposed to happen like this.

The ‘this’, in your case is where you are right now. In your fourth and final year, drunk at a party hosted by a group of guys into organised nerd singing, one of which is your boyfriend.

You scan the room for said boyfriend but can’t seem to place him. Probably with Benji somewhere talking him down after another less than successful episode with Emily.

You can however, place a certain redhead over by the edge of the pool. Chloe. Chloe Beale.

That most definitely wasn’t supposed to happen.

You’re not sure when you started to fall in love with Chloe, but if you’re being honest it probably wasn’t long after she barged into your fucking shower in first year, something that seems like forever ago. You are sure of when you started fucking her though.

It’s honestly not as complicated as it sounds. It’s actually quite simple really. Some best friends watch movies together, or go to museums, or go shopping. Sure, You and Chloe do these things too, but you and Chloe also fuck.

You take a sip of luke warm beer and blanch internally at the word ‘fuck’, but it’s the only way you describe what you and Chloe do. There’s nothing tender about it, there’s no lingering kisses or post coital cuddles or any of that bullshit, it’s strictly a business transaction.

That’s what you tell yourself anyway, it’s easier to pretend that there are no feelings when you’re driving her to the brink of insanity, tearing her apart from the inside only to put her back together when you thrust in just the right way.

The first time was a complete accident. It was near the end of first year, in the run up to the Finals. Of course you were both wasted and it was fumbling and messy. She’d walked you back to your room after you’d chugged one too many of ‘Amy’s Surprise’, the surprise being that there’s most likely rat poison and bleach in there. Think Tom Haverford’s Snake Juice.
You’d told the girls you were fine and didn’t need a chaperone, but Chloe saw through you. She always did.

So that’s how you’d found yourself wrapped up under one of her arms as she tried her best to hold you up. You’d managed to stumble through the door after dropping your key three times, before the marginally more sober Chloe picked them up and let you both in.

You remember grinning like a fucking dork at her and whispering “my hero”, which made her giggle, something she did a lot around you.

She’d managed to get you onto the bed and started yanking your shirt off your head, trying to help you get into some pyjamas.

You both laughed when your arms got tangled up because you’d been flailing around to make her job difficult. You’d do almost anything to hear her laugh.

Her arms grabbed yours and you yanked her onto the bed with you.

It was silent then. Her face was inches from yours and you didn’t dare breathe. There’d been moments like this before, ones that you couldn’t quite describe. Where there was something almost palpable, some weird and messed up vibe that seemed to pass between you both. Her blue eyes, god those fucking insanely blue eyes would be screaming at you to do something. What that something was you never knew, but they pleaded to you, trying to get you to understand.

Before you could figure out what it was she was trying to say, she’d always look away. Whatever she was trying to tell you or trying to see in your eyes she’d obviously never got the answer she wanted.

Except this time she didn’t look away. She just kept looking at you for what felt like forever, her eyes burning into yours.

And that’s when you thought you knew what she wanted. You thought you’d got what she’d been trying to say. That’s when you kissed.

You couldn’t say who made the first move. One minute your eyes were open and you were looking into her bright blue ones, and then your eyes were closed and you could feel her soft, warm lips on yours.

The kiss turned sloppy and hot, breathy and needy. God you’d never felt such need before, and not just from her, but from yourself. You didn’t just want her, of course you wanted her, but you needed this. You needed her hands that felt like they were burning you as she practically tore your clothes off to get to your skin underneath.

You moaned into her mouth as she begged you to touch her. Over and over.

“God Beca touch me. Touch me”

You couldn’t refuse. You could never refuse Chloe anything.

Her body was radiating heat, moving so smoothly against your own as you clawed every inch you could touch. Her shoulders, her back, her thighs, scraping over and over again hoping to make her feel the same burning that was tearing through you. You needed to make her feel what she was making you feel.

You took her quick and hard. It wasn’t the tender and sweet way you’d imagined it would be in the few daydreams you’d had about this. It was too rough, too rushed but she wasn’t complaining. And seeing her ride your fingers that you kept pumping into her faster and deeper with every breathless moan she gave you, hardly encouraged you to slow down.

You know that you’ll never forget seeing her fall apart that first time. Eye contact, there was just so much of it. Her bright blue eyes never left yours, her red hair matted and sticking to her face, probably the only time you’d ever seen it not looking immaculate. And she’d never looked so perfect.

After one final thrust from you and one high pitched moan from her, one which probably fucked up her nodes even more, she was done.

Her hands softly lingered on your chest, lightly tracing the marks she’d left from her nails digging in as she rode your hand.

And then she smiled. And that’s when you realised three things: first, you though you’d answered the question that had constantly been in her eyes every time she looked at you. You’d worked out what she’d been asking; she’d been asking for you. The second thing was that she’d never looked so fucking beautiful and that there was no way you weren’t going to do this again. And the third thing was that you couldn’t do this again and you could tell no one.

You tried not to let that last one get to you. This was your moment together. The one that the whole of first year had been building up to whether you knew it or not. And fuck, you were going to enjoy it.

That was the only night she ever stayed over after. She’d collapsed onto your chest, kissing hungrily and restarting the fire inside you that you thought had been sated by pleasuring her.

She fucked you just as hard, using her absurdly talented mouth relentlessly on your embarrassingly wet entrance until you couldn’t hold on anymore and released after she’d ordered you to cum for her.

When you woke up the next day, hungover and aching like a bitch, she was gone, leaving only the faint smell of her perfume on your skin and the raised red marks on your chest.

Things returned to normal after that. Well, as normal as they ever could be between you and her. Her eyes still bore into yours but with an entirely different question this time. When are we doing this next?

It was always unspoken between the two of you. You knew there couldn’t be a next time. She had Tom and you had Jesse. Maybe.

Jesse was a problem and a complication, one you didn’t need. But he was nice, and safe and he didn’t scare you like Chloe did. There was never a question in his eyes and he never set fires under your skin. But that’s a good thing.

That’s why you kissed him. Because after winning, the only thing you could see was Chloe. Chloe was there and she was pleading with you again. Again again again, there could be no again. You couldn’t get attached like this, you couldn’t need someone like you so badly needed her.

You didn’t need Jesse, so you kissed him.

And you and Chloe were friends. You could do friends. So things were fine. You went through the motions, hanging out with Jesse and trying to like him like you should like your boyfriend, to love him, to be in love with him.

The sex was fine. Just fine. There were no fires or primal urges. He didn’t make you want to tear his skin off and taste him, to feel his soul and hear his every breath come just for you.

You and Chloe stayed true to your unspoken promise and never spoke of the incident. Not to each other and not to the other girls. And certainly not to Jesse.

You’d thought about telling him before you started dating, it’s not like you were together or anything when it happened. He couldn’t be mad for something that happened before you were even together, right?

But then things got complicated when it happened again.

You hated cheating. You still hadn’t forgiven your father for it, not entirely, even if you knew your mum and dad were better off apart. It was the one thing you couldn’t condone, and yet you did it to a sweet guy who cared for you so much.

And to make things just that much sweeter, you weren’t even drunk this time.

It was your third year and you’d just officially started back. You hadn’t seen Chloe all summer and texting her near constantly just wasn’t enough. You never thought it was possible to miss someone so much. You even the most irritating things about her like her constant optimism or the way she’d snuggle up to you when you were watching a movie even though she knew you hated both movies and human contact. Well, most human contact at least.

You guys had just moved into the Bella’s house and you’d assumed you’d be the last one. When you arrived however, you found only Chloe had already moved her stuff in. Not that you’d planned your move in date around when she was planning on moving or anything. Definitely not.

Either way you were both alone. Together. And before the words “Oh! I guess we’re the first ones here!” Had fully left her mouth and before she’d even hit you with her dazzling smile you knew what would happen. It didn’t even feel like a choice, at this point it was inevitable.

You managed to hold off for far longer than you thought. She helped you unpack your stuff into a room on the top floor, one you’d agreed to share with Fat Amy (sharing with Chloe was a definite no go, for obvious reasons).

She told you about her summer and how she’d spent it volunteering at a school for underprivileged children with a knack for music. Even though you knew almost every story she relayed to you as she’d told you via text, you still laughed with her and reassured her of her talent when she voiced her doubts of her ability to teach.
Just being around her made you smile. You felt like you could finally breathe again, like for the entire summer you’d been on edge, so restless and lost and you’d finally found your place again.

After you told a particularly funny story about your step monster choking on some water you’d got her and ‘aca-accidentally’ spilt salt into, Chloe snorted and then sighed.

“I’ve really missed you.”

There was something in the way she’d said it. It was vulnerable and fragile, like you could break her if you said something typically 'Beca’. Basically anything sarcastic or devoid of emotion.

Her eyes shifted downwards as she’d said it and god you needed her to see your face when you said it back.

You’d leant across the kitchen island and tilted her chin up so she was looking at you.

“I missed you too, you weirdo.”

You assumed you’d said the right thing because her eyes lit up again and she was smiling back at you.

Strike one.

She suggested the movie. After a day of playfully unpacking and brushing up against each other as you placed random kitchen utensils in drawers and cupboards, you knew it was a bad idea.

Every time she’d brushed by you you’d tried so hard. So fucking hard not to imagine taking her right on that kitchen counter. Tried not to stare at the tiny strip of skin on her stomach that flashed when she reached for a high shelf because you were too small. And no you definitely weren’t purposefully suggesting putting all the pots and pans on the top shelf just to see her do it. Not at all.

Of course you failed, and more often than not imagined dragging your tongue across that strip of skin and making her beg for it, making her want this as much as you did.
She’d turned around when you were openly checking her out and you’d blushed. She’d only raised an eyebrow and winked before brushing past you again, letting her hand graze over the waistband of your jeans.

Strike two.

You’d let her pick the film as always. You couldn’t give a fuck what you watched because you knew you’d end up just playing with Chloe’s hair and forcing yourself to keep your eyes glued on the screen instead of meeting her eyes.

She’d picked Marley and Me, which didn’t really surprise you. Cute puppy that presumably dies meaning she’d probably cry and have to snuggle further into you. Sounded perfect.

It was about halfway through the movie. The puppy was no longer a puppy, even though Chloe still referred to him as 'puppy’ as she said “all dogs are puppies no matter how old they are” She looked too cute for you to argue.

You were in your usual movie watching position. You were sat almost bolt upright with your legs stretched out and propped on the coffee table, whilst Chloe rested her head on your shoulder and had an arm slung around your waist. She’d idly play with the fabric of your shirt and you’d somehow end up with your arm around her and toy with loose strands of her hair.

Of course you’d lost interest in the movie. You had after about 10 minutes, but it was Chloe so you at least tried to feign interest for a while.

You were partway through braiding a random section of her hair when you realised she’d stopped watching the movie too.

Your hand froze where it was and you’d looked at her.

And that was Strike Three.

She moved first this time, her hand trailing up your arm and quickly tangling in your hair, effectively pulling you to her.

There it was again, building up inside. How she managed to get you so worked up from just a kiss you’d never understand. Kissing Jesse was nothing like this, there was no passion, no spark and there never had been. Not like with Chloe.

You pulled her upright and onto your lap, keeping her lips locked on yours as she gasped allowing you to explore her mouth with your tongue.
It felt right. That’s all you could think. Every other coherent thought slipped away and Chloe filled your senses. Her touch, her scent, her taste - Chloe Chloe Chloe.

You couldn’t get her t-shirt off quick enough. You needed to feel her against you right then and there. She must’ve felt the same as she discarded of your shirt and t-shirt almost in one motion.

You buried your face in her neck, biting, licking, sucking any flesh that you could. You revelled in the soft and breathy moans. She was making those noises for you. You were doing that to her.

Her hips rocked with yours, trying to find friction in any way possible.

“I need you.”

You didn’t say it back. You didn’t have to. Pulling back to look at her, her eyes blazed. She knew. She fucking knew.

A smirk played on her face as she got on her knees unzipped your jeans, pulling them down to your ankles.

Ecstasy. As soon as her tongue caressed your folds. This was how it should feel. This is what it’s like to be loved.

You came undone easily, even though this was only your second time together, she understood exactly how you wanted to be fucked.

With your head thrown back against the sofa, one hand in her hair pushing her impossibly closer to your centre and the other clenched in between your teeth to keep you from crying out.

“Look at me when you come.”

Your eyes snapped open and your head bowed down to Chloe Beale.

With one final thrust of her fingers and flick of her tongue it was over.

You could feel the guilt hit you almost immediately. Except it wasn’t really guilt, and that was the worst part. You knew you should feel bad, really really bad. But you felt like you should feel guilty, not actual guilt. Like some weird echo of a feeling. Pre-guilt almost or like second hand guilt. Was that even a thing? How could you feel guilty about something that felt so right?
Her eyes stayed on yours and in that moment you didn’t give a fuck. This weird non-guilt could wait.

You were soft with her to begin with. You didn’t dive straight in despite every fibre of your being telling you to do just that. This was your last time with Chloe, and you wanted to savour it. But then didn’t you want to make it count?

The internal battle was interrupted by Chloe roughly grabbing your hand and pushing it against her breast.

“Take me how you want me.”

You wanted her every way. You wanted her hard and quick against the wall, soft and long on your new bed, her new bed, primal and angry on the floor of every fucking room and full of love on the kitchen counter.

The kitchen counter.

You lifted her up by her ass, feeling her arms lace around your neck and thighs clamp around your waist.

She bit your neck hungrily as you moved as quickly as your dumb, tiny legs could carry you to the kitchen.

You all but threw her on the counter top, not even bothering to take her skirt off, instead simply brushing the hem upwards and plunging two fingers straight inside her.

You both moaned loudly and her fingernails dug into your neck in response.

“You’re so wet”

Her bright blue eyes glazed over as she reattached your lips, rocking her hips to meet every thrust of your hand.

The kitchen island wobbled under your movements, a banging sound floated amongst your heavy breathing and Chloe’s moans.

“Beca. Beca. Beca.”

It was torture. No one should feel this good. No one deserved to feel like this.

Her breath tickled your ear and it was all too much. Too much Chloe.

You needed more.

Stopping momentarily, much to Chloe’s dismay (if her groan was anything to go by) you pulled her skirt down off of her legs sharply, swiftly followed by her lacy underwear.

Her legs remained around your waist and you gave her a hard kiss before travelling south to lick at the expanse of soft skin on her stomach, like you’d wanted to all day.

“I’ve wanted to take you like this all day.”

It came out before you could stop it. Chloe had that effect on you. Nothing was too much for Chloe. Nothing you could say was too much or too far. Nothing you could say would make her run.

Her hands gripped your hair and pushed you down desperately. You pulled her legs to rest on your shoulders and tasted her in one smooth lick.

Heaven. Like fucking heaven.

You couldn’t believe you’d gone over a year without this. How. You couldn’t believe you’d forgotten how it could feel to make a fallen angel curse so loud and scream to the god that banished her. How anyone could banish Chloe Beale you’d never know.

Long after she’d climaxed, you continued to lazily stroke with your tongue. You never wanted this to end, you never wanted to live without this again.

You only stopped when she feebly tugged on your head, pulling you back up to her.

She eagerly tasted herself on your tongue, which did nothing to douse the flames inside of you.

You stayed like that for a while whilst you both calmed down. Both of you completely naked in the kitchen, Chloe sat on the kitchen counter and you stood between her legs just resting your forehead against hers. You occasionally kissed her cheeks, her nose, her lips, the scar on her forehead, tasting her salty skin.

Neither of you said a word, just let the world be for a while, just the two of you suspended in time.

The clock on campus struck 2am and you both knew it was over. Chloe looked at you funny. She looked almost sad, but so so happy too.

You knew how she felt. Knew exactly what her bright blue eyes were telling you. With the strike of that clock it was back to being friends. Back to Jesse.

With the second strike you kissed her as tenderly as possible, pouring as much of yourself into that kiss as you could. You tried to say what you couldn’t, what you wouldn’t. Tried to tell her that you loved her and that you were leaving Jesse, that you weren’t afraid anymore, that this would happen again.

As you pulled away, she nodded. And it broke your fucking heart. She understood you. She always did.

You held up a finger, asking her to wait a moment. You made your way back to the living room and picked up the discarded clothes on the way.

When you got back, Chloe was sat exactly as you left her.

She smiled sadly at you again, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and you tried not to cry. This was your fault. This was all your fault.

You showed her you loved her in the only way you knew how. You hooked her bra back on over her shoulders. You lifted her arms up, kissing her shoulder, her forearm and her hand before putting her t-shirt back over her head. Her pants were slipped back on as you lifted her off the counter and slid them under her. You redressed her with the tenderness that was lacking when you undressed her. Maybe you could put her back together in the same way.

She reciprocated, of course she did. She’s Chloe Beale. She’d never take and not give back. She’d always give back and go one better because that’s the kind of selfless person she is.

She took her time in straightening your collar and brushed non-existent dirt off your shoulders, giggling when you took the opportunity of having her face near yours to lick any part of her face you could reach.

You both stood, fully dressed in the kitchen. You couldn’t move, couldn’t leave. If you left the room then it was over. And that terrified you more than you could say.

As always, you didn’t have to be scared because Chloe made the decision for you. She held out her arms and pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Goodnight Beca.”

And with a kiss to the top of your head she was gone.

You’d stood in the kitchen for a while and tried not to cry. You failed.

And now here you find yourself, stood on the outskirts of the party, trying not to think about her.

Downing your beer, you sighed and entered the party. You should probably go and find Jesse, you did say you would after all. He’d text earlier asking where you were and you’d told him you were working late at the studio. You lied.

You weren’t with Chloe either. She didn’t know about the internship and you didn’t want her to either. Not for the reasons that you kept telling Jesse, the go-to “She’s just so focussed on World’s and I don’t want her to think I’m getting distracted” or any of that bullshit. You don’t want her to know because it’s a sign of things changing. Of life beyond College. Life beyond Chloe. And that’s unthinkable.

You hate it. You came here to do one year, speak to as little people as possible, make no attachments and leave. Pursue your dream and focus solely on that. And now it’s 3 years later and you’ve managed to fall in love with your best friend. Fall so hard that the thought of leaving this stupid fucking college makes you sick.

You have the dream internship, your shot to do what you want, and now because of one girl you don’t even know if you want it anymore. If leaving College and pursuing your dream means leaving Chloe, then perhaps Chloe failing to stay at Barden doesn’t seem so crazy after all. You’d fail too if it meant staying with her.

You needed time. It was going so fast and you just needed some time to figure all of this out. You’d never been a fan of change, anything new or scary and you’d run. And now so much was happening all at once and you’re barely holding it together.

Grabbing another cup of beer, you go in search of Jesse.

When you find him he kisses you and you fight back the urge to vomit. And then you have to stifle the shame you feel at being such a terrible girlfriend. If only he knew.
He grills you about not telling Chloe about the internship and just hearing her name makes your stomach flip and you feel woozy. But not in the way that Jesse makes you woozy. It’s not nausea, it’s that sickeningly sweet fire taunting you.

Thankfully he says he’s heading home. He looks exhausted and you feel even worse. You’ve been such a shitty girlfriend recently and it shows on his face. He knows it’s done, he’s just waiting for you to find some fucking guts and tell him. He deserves that.

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, just kind of awkwardly pats your shoulder.

You feel relieved. You feel horrible.

Another beer later and you’ve spoken to Emily. She seems nice. So enthusiastic and it makes you smile. She reminds you of Chloe in that way.

Skip to another beer and you know you’re drunk. A nice level of drunk. You feel warm and floaty and you’ve temporarily forgotten about graduation and leaving Barden.

You’re about to go grab another beer when you smell vanilla and cherries and home.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You almost don’t want to turn around. You haven’t even looked at her and you already want to cry and to drag her inside and make her yours.

But of course you turn around, because it’s Chloe.

Fuck. She’s a little drunk too. You can tell by the way her eyes are dropping slightly and her mouth is smiling lazily. She looks so goofy and adorable that you can’t help but smirk back at her.

Before you can think of anything smart to say, she’s grabbing your hand and leading you away from the party.

This is bad. You know it’s bad but you can’t make your feet stop moving even if you wanted to.

“Where are we going?”

You’d hoped that you wouldn’t sound as nervous as you felt, but your voice shook slightly. Chloe always made you nervous in the best way.

She carried on leading you away from the party, dragging you through the hole in the bush and towards the Bella’s house.

“Somewhere quiet to talk.”

This is really really bad.

To your surprise Chloe stops on the doorstep of the house and flops down, gesturing for you to do the same.

You raise an eyebrow waiting for an answer.

She shakes her head slightly and gestures more fervently to the step.

“Sit. I don’t bite.”

You can feel yourself smirking even more now. Can’t make any jokes about her and biting, you know you don’t talk about it. You never talk about what happened between you and her.

“Pretty sure I have scars on my thighs that say otherwise.”

Shit. You’re just as shocked as Chloe is, but you try to shake it off.

Chloe however, looks completely thrown. Her mouth is slightly agape and her eyes seem to have gotten even bigger and brighter than usual if that’s even possible.

Her eyes look for yours. And that’s it.

You don’t care anymore. You’re not sure if it’s the beer or talking with Emily, a next generation Bella, or the defeated look you saw in Jesse’s eyes or whether it’s just Chloe, but you know that this is it.

Chloe. Chloe sat in front of you. Chloe jumping in your shower and singing her lady jam with you. Chloe teaching you the dance moves even though she knew you knew them already and just liked having an excuse to have her touch you. Chloe who fought for you to be in the Bella’s, who stood up to her best friend because she believed in you. Chloe who wiggled her way into your life and broke down all of your stupid walls. Chloe whose eyes light up every time you enter a room. Chloe who listens to your mixes and believes in you even when you don’t believe in yourself. Chloe who you love. Chloe Beale.

And it’s that simple. It’s what she’s been saying for four years now. You thought it was lust, that she needed you, which she does. But that’s not what she was asking. She was asking you to love her. And she’s sat on your porch looking at you with the same love in her eyes as she did when she first met you and you feel so stupid. She loved you all along.

And you loved her too.

You smile. It’s not a smirk, it’s an actual smile.

“C'mon.”

You hold out your hand and you know she’ll take it without asking why.

She does and you lead her inside, climbing the stairs to your room.

You gesture to your bed and she sits, looking at you questioningly. She’s nervous. Good. Because you’re nervous too.

“Okay. You know I’m no good with words but I need you to just be quiet and listen to me.”

She nods.

This is awful. You don’t know what to say. Your mouth is dry and you’ve sobered up completely. What can you say to a girl who you’ve broken so completely so many times throughout the past years? You’re still with Jesse, how can you do this now?

You’ve been quiet for a while and you’ve almost forgotten that Chloe’s there. You’re lost inside your head and you can’t do this.

“Hey… Hey.”

And then she’s there. She’s stood in front of you and she’s taking your hands.

You look at your interlocked fingers, look at the way her hand fits perfectly in yours and how your thumb automatically started making small circles on her hand.
Looking at her is almost painful, but you do it. Because by god it’s the sweetest kind of pain you could ever ask for. You’d endure any kind of pain for her.

She’s smiling at you. She looks like she’s going to cry too. You hope she doesn’t feel pain when she looks at you too, but you know she probably does.

But her eyes are full of forgiveness. And of love.

And you know what you need to say.

“I love you.”

It’s cracked. It’s broken. And it’s true.

Your eyes never leave hers, even as she’s leaning in and you feel the heat from her skin radiate onto yours, starting the fire that never really leaves when you’re around her.

Her lips are on yours and it’s perfect. It’s Chloe.

Your lips tell her everything that you could never articulate. They tell her of all of your fears, your doubts, your worries and they get washed away in her mouth.

You break apart and can taste salty tears, whether they’re hers or yours you don’t know, but it’s one and the same.

She giggles. Softly, but it’s definitely a giggle.

“I know.”

There’s not much you do know. You don’t know how you’re going to break up with Jesse or what exactly your plans are after you graduate, but the one thing you do know… Fuck the only thing you’ve ever known, is that whatever happens, you will always be in love with Chloe Beale. And she will always be in love with you.

anonymous asked:

Benji that one post you reblogged where it's like "when she agrees to send you an ankle pic but ur phone is on 3%" is actually islamophobic just letting you know❤️

You guys always coming through, I know most of you know this already but my blog runs mostly on queues so i appreciate asks like these when stupid stuff sneaks through on my blog.

[text] HEY so Max’s birthday is comin up I wanted to do something but I’m out of ideas and have no job right now lol so I thought you might be able to help ???
[text] Mostly because of the ideas thing
[text] Not the money thing
[text] It’s Willow btw 
[text] I snuck ur number