#buzzfeedchallenge

[perdrixforelle]

I’m late but here’s my entry for @thebuzzfeedchallenge Prompt: All Hallows’ Eve — Dorothea Tanning (but tbh my not-native-speaking ass just took the word werewolf and ran with it) Partner : @iduncarewhatyouthink21 Pairing: Shane/Ryan (buzzf/eed uns/olved)

Ryan being a bit of a jock he would seem to be the werewolf type BUT HEAR ME OUT PEOPLE: have you ever seen a maned wolf? Its like 80% legs.

I had to draw Shane as a maned wolf type werewolf. Also my headcanon is that Shane doesn’t like sport as a human but enjoys the exercice when in wolf form, much to Ryan’s delight. I love the idea that whatever fantastic creature Shane might be (be it demon, vampire, god of mischief, etc) he kind of sucks at it. So here he is pretty tame, except for the actual full moon when he needs to isolate himself more. They found a secluded place to play basketball (or rather Shane cannot be bothered with the rules and just tries to take the ball from Ryan) so that nobody will stumble upon a horse-sized wolf and some tiny buff guy goofing around in the middle of the night.

[wetookanoath]

And Longer If I Can | shyan  fic ~ The B/uzzFeed Creations Challenge

Characters/Pairings: Ryan/Shane + Brent, Zack, Justin and Steven. Rating: T Warnings: Misunderstandings, Angst (with happy ending and fluff). Word Count: ~6,251 Partner: @rpfisnasty ~ Prompt: Milestones - X number of dates. I chose 500th dates because me and Shane are that Extra(tm).  Summary: After Shane makes an "odd" question, Ryan can't stop thinking about the possible implications of it, obsession over the one conclusion most likely to (not) be: Shane is breaking up with him sometime soon. A/N: I enjoyed a lot making this fic based on something my good friend Joey (@faequill) once told me and our other friends on discord. Honestly, this wouldn't exist without him. I love you tons, man. I wouldn't be as happy in this fandom if it wasn't for you. Hope you like this.

Edited by @haunted-gays who is the best and my actual child. Thank you SO much, baby!

(Read on AO3)

[exceedinglyregular]

Last.

The final chapter of Let Me Spell It Out For You is up!

Enjoy! ;)

---

(For The BuzzFeed Creations Challenge - @thebuzzfeedchallenge)

Partner: @mercury-skies

Pairings: Ryan/Andrew, Shane/Ryan

Tags: Accidental Relationship, Magic, Love Spells, Cussing, Angst

[genuine-wheeze]

Sweater Sharing

Rating: Clean/SFW/Safe

Pairing: Adam/Andrew

Prompt: Cozy Sweater

Tags: Pining; Mutual Pining; Friends to Lovers

Notes: This is my first fic for this pairing so it might be OOC. A lil rushed but I hope y’all enjoy

Partners: @mercury-skies @theseusinthemaze

September 25. A mainly mundane day for most people, falling on a normal work or school day. Uninspired. Boring. But not for Adam and Andrew. September 25th for them was the start of their annual Fall road trip. A two week long cross-state drive-a-thon full of too much pumpkin scented shit and not enough sensibility to refrain from buying it. Every year the two of them piled all their “essentials” into Adam’s crappy hatchback and set off to the Oregon-California border. Every year the two did this to “build friendship.” Every year except for this one. Because Adam could not do this. He could not sit in a car with his obnoxiously heart wrenching crush and come out alive. But of course, nothing went his way.

“C’mon Adam. We do this every year! Every year buddy! Please? Please?”

“Andrew I just-“

“Do you have something else to do? Because I could do that with you, just tell me the plans!”

“No it’s not-“

“Is it a date? I could be your wingman!”

“No Andrew it’s just that I-“

“Please Adam?”

Andrew could do convincing puppy-dog eyes, in his defense. So here he was, Andrew deviously crafting a carpool karaoke playlist specifically designed to annoy him, Steven wishing them off through Skype call, sounds of his family in the background. Adam could feel butterflies in his stomach as he looked at Andrew, heartsick in a million little ways as his friend eagerly chattered with Steven about all the things they were going to do. But then the call was over and it was just them and all the stuff they needed to pack. Better for Adam to just get to work, maybe it would distract from the thumping of his heart.

—

Ah, roadside diners. Adam felt a special fondness for most of the quirky restaurants, having been to almost all of them in his time with Andrew. But he definitely hated this one. With all his heart. Because really, was it fair for them to be playing Andrew’s “most favorite song ever Adam!” after hopping him up on pumpkin spice coffee with unlimited refills? No, it wasn’t. And now Andrew was dancing, hips swaying as he moved to the beat of the cheesy 90s song. Adam was just about to give up on his pie and end himself with his fork right there when it got worse for him.

“Adam come dance with me!”

“These patrons do not want to see me flail about to jukebox music Andrew I promise you that.”

“Oh just get up here!”

And then Andrew had his hands and he was pulling him up to dance. Dear god wasn’t Fall supposed to be fun? Maybe that was Winter, the cold months when Andrew was too frozen to do anything. Yeah, maybe those were the good times. Because this definitely wasn’t one of them, Andrew’s soft hands in his as he moved him about. No, definitely not.

—

Being in the car with Andrew after that was scarcely better. He sang loudly and distractingly, even though it was adorable. But Adam couldn’t think stuff like that. He wasn’t going to allow himself to. So instead he settled on bobbing his head to the music, amicably filling his mind with the thoughts of all the stuff he’d waste his money on at the roadside stops. He was going to buy some stupid snow globes. He knew it.

—

Their first night in a hotel was brilliantly awful. Andrew insisted on laying in Adam’s bed with him, and he knew that he’d get cramps from how stiffly he sat, trying not to melt all over Andrew. But he guessed either Andrew was too tired to notice, or he just didn’t care, because they made it an entire season of Gilmore Girls before the shorter man wanted to go back to his own bed. Andrew was always a heavy sleeper, but Adam lay awake and stared at the ceiling, listening to the breathing of his friend. God, he had it bad. His heart skipping beats when Andrew touched him, his skin aching for a brush against Andrew. He was becoming a cliche. A terribly stupid cliche about unrequited love and friendship he would scoff at in movies. And he was living it, and enjoying it. Because even though it hurt, he loved it. Sighing, Adam rolled over, pulling the blankets over his body and trying to turn off his brain and go the hell to sleep. He didn’t succeed.

—

“Andrew can you drive today? I’m so tired. I think I’m crashing. Too much pumpkin pie at the beginning of this trip. It’s withdrawal.”

“Don’t be so dramatic Adam you’re not going through a withdrawal from pie.”

“No seriously dude. I have the shakes and everything.”

Andrew snorted at that, climbing into the driver's seat easily.

“Lay down in the back you pumpkin druggie, I’ll wake you up at the next hotel.”

“Thanks man.”

“No problem Adam. Get some sleep.”

—

Adam woke up as the car slowed to a stop.

“We ‘ere now?”

“No no I just gotta stretch. C’mon go back to sleep.”

“Mmph. ‘Kay. Turn the AC down though. ‘S freezing back here.”

“Ah just put a sweater on you big baby.”

Adam let out a groan, but groped around for a sweater in the backseat groggily, pulling one on quickly, immediately falling back asleep, snoring lightly under the soft music from the radio.

—

This next diner was kinder to him. Only lilting 70s songs over the stereo, so he didn’t have to dance with Andrew again. Although, this dining experience was definitely a… weird one.

“And what can I get for you two boys?”

“Two coffees, one burger and a salad. We’re sharing a plate, right Adam?”

“Yeah. Though you shouldn’t order croutons on this salad, last time you spent 10 minutes picking them out.”

“Oh, yeah, and no croutons. Thank you.”

“Of course babies, and I’ll throw in a slice of pie just because you two are so cute together.”

Adam chuckled at the thought that he and Andrew were cute, usually that was reserved for him and Steven, waiters always gushing over their friendship.

“Well that was new. Usually don’t see waitresses complimenting our friendship huh?” Adam looked up from his phone to see Andrew smiling strangely at him, before the other shook his head gently.

“Yeah Adam, don’t see that with our uh… friendship.” He chuckled to himself, as though that was another one of his puns. Adam was going to quiz him on it when the waitress, Cindy, returned.

“Okay cuties. Enjoy your date.” Adam blushed, startling at the insinuation, dropping his fork to the floor. When he got back up, fork in hand, he noticed the same strange smile on Andrew. Odd, Andrew had never given him that look before. Adam filed it for later, shutting off his phone and leaning towards his friend, listening easily to the story he started.

—

Another damn motel. Adam was getting antsy, the confined spaces he shared with Andrew seeming to shrink, pushing the two of them together, literally. Because this motel had no idea of space, beds pushed together to be able to fit the nightstand, pillows overlapping to create the appearance of one large bed. This was not good. This meant he and Andrew would be required to sleep in the same bed, next to each other, Andrew close enough for Adam to touch. Terrible. Adam threw his stuff down in the closet, bags piled in one corner, before piling Andrew’s stuff on the opposite wall. God, he hoped Andrew could sleep through Adam’s panic. But then, as Adam stood, he suddenly had something else to worry about. Because he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Him, in all his bespectacled, bed headed glory. Him, wearing Andrew’s sweater. The big one with a band logo on it he didn’t recognize, the one that Andrew had most definitely recognized. Shit. That’s why Andrew had been smirking in the diner. God, Adam was panicking. Hunched in the closet, hands in the folds of the stolen sweater. There was really only one option. Take it off.

—

Adam made sure to carefully fold the sweater. He laid it on Andrew’s bed gently, before deciding to hand it to him in person. It’d be useless to lay it on the beds because they were so close together, damn motel owners. So he sat and waited for Andrew to get back from the town with their dinner. But sitting down was definitely a mistake, because he hadn’t realized how tired he was, until he was drifting to sleep.

—

“Having a good nap?”

Adam startled awake, sitting up quickly only to bump foreheads with Andrew, smile back on his face from before. Adam looked down for the sweater and, oh God. He had fallen asleep, and managed to wrap himself in it, almost like a child with a plush animal. He blushed, quickly folding it and thrusting it towards the blond man.

“Uh. Here. Sorry for taking it.”

“No no. Here. Keep it, it looks good on you.”

Andrew pushed it towards him gently, smile turning a bit more mischievous.

“You know Adam. I think it looks really good on you.”

“O-oh?”

Adam was blushing wildly now, stammering and fumbling with the sweater as Andrew drew closer. And closer. Until he was practically on top of him, eyes full of wonder.

“Yeah. I think it looks nice on you. Makes you look like you’re…” he trailed off, mouth inching towards Adam’s.

“Makes me look like what?” Adam felt his heart rushing, blood thrumming in his ears because God, Andrew was so close.

“It makes you look like you’re mine.” And then Andrew’s lips were on his, moving softly together with his. Breaths warm on each other’s faces. The sweater tossed easily aside. Maybe Adam would put it on later.

[y00bi]

@thebuzzfeedchallenge (ROUND 1): @cathartickonundrum

“First Day of School”

[beaniegara]

trying to save you (from all of the things that I'll probably say or do)

ship: eugene/zach (zagene) rating: pg-13 warnings: alcohol mention and consumption, self-worth issues. tags: friends to lovers, angst, angst with a happy ending, sorta sickfic at first, introspection on eugene's part, eugene's pov show: the try guys. partner: @lilnyckyj​   prompt: allergies, for @thebuzzfeedchallenge​! 

summary: zach is sick so eugene makes sure he has everything he needs at home, including food. and that's when he realizes.

a/n: I’m super late and I’m so sorry! :c but here, have some zagene ♥

[ao3 link]

“Zach?”

Eugene closes the door behind him and toes out of his shoes. He’s not wearing socks. The cold under his feet is more than welcome after the frankly outrageous hot weather he experienced outside. The foam container he’s holding isn’t helping, warm to the touch. He knows that it smells good when Bowie comes out of Zach’s room, pawing happily towards Eugene.

“Hey, buddy,” Eugene says, crouching down to give him a good rub behind his ears and a kiss to his head. It’s almost a bad decision: Bowie tries to reach for the package and nearly topples Eugene over. “Hey, hey,” he laughs, standing up and keeping the food out of Bowie’s reach. “This is for your dad. Be nice.”

“Bowie, stop hogging my friend!” Zach’s whine comes down the hallway. Eugene laughs.

After laying the food carefully on top of the fridge, he goes to Zach’s room. He’s not surprised to find Zach in a nest of sorts. His friend lies amidst sheets, pillows, and what looks like half of his wardrobe. He looks small, sad, and quite honestly—

“Pathetic,” Eugene says, stopping for a second at the door, then walking inside to feel Zach’s forehead. “You can’t be that bad .”

“Oh yeah, and how can you know? Do you have a stuffy nose that won’t stop running like the goddamn Niagara Falls?”

It all comes out in a rush, very much through his red nose. He sounds a lot like Donald Duck.

“Stop acting like a baby and get up, I brought you food.”

“Food?” Zach looks hopeful, but that immediately turns into a scowl. “Food? I don’t know if I can eat today.”

“Too bad, because you will. Come on.”

Eugene offers a hand that Zach takes, letting Eugene help him out of bed.

“And what I mean by that is that it can’t be that bad that you need to cocoon yourself like this,” he motions to Zach’s mess of a bed as they head to the kitchen. “It’s not even, what, 80º outside?”

“It’s comfy, though,” Zach says, and Eugene can’t contain a smile – even a slightly amused one.

Bowie follows them happily into the kitchen, wagging his tail. Zach starts to pull out plates, but Eugene stops him, takes the plates from his hand, and indicates the table with his head, “Sit.”

“You know, I really am not that bad. I’m just being dramatic because I hate this.”

“I know. But you’re taking too many meds at once and I don’t like that,” Eugene says simply. “Your tiny body can only take so much.”

“Wow, thanks, man.”

“That was a compliment,” Eugene says as he finishes setting up the table and reaches for the food on top of the fridge. “You need carbs, but you also need meat to keep functioning like a human being, so I brought two dishes, actually.”

He makes sure to set everything nicely on the table, opening container after container until Zach can see all that he has brought with him.

“Oh my god, this looks so good.”

“It smells pretty nice, too.”

Zach just gestures dismissively at his stuffed nose, “I’ll have to take your word for it. How much was it? I can transfer what I owe you.”

“Shut up,” Eugene says, dropping a generous portion on Zach’s plate first before getting some himself. “I told you, this is on me. You owe me nothing more than a couple of nights babysitting my babies.”

“Eugene, that is hardly payment, I enjoy doing that. Besides, this is like the third time this week you’ve brought me food.”

It is. Eugene hesitates only for a second, because it hadn’t occurred to him that he has been here on Monday, Tuesday and today, Thursday, making it the third time that week alone. Zach has the week off, fighting an allergy-turned-mild-cold that comes and goes around this time of the year. And it’s not like Eugene has been the only one over – Keith has been keeping tabs on him, too, and even if Ned is trying to avoid Zach, not wanting to risk getting Ariel sick, he personally rearranged Zach’s schedule so that Zach wouldn’t have to miss anything important that week. Really, Eugene is not doing more than his part here.

Or so he tells himself.

“I don’t want your money,” he says. “Just, you know, get better so I don’t have to babysit you. And so I can go back to babysitting your dog.”

Speaking of which, Bowie is sat between them, eyeing one and then the other with the cutest eyes Eugene has ever seen. Zach laughs, “You’re just using me to get to Bowie.” He takes his first bite and closes his eyes, groaning. “Oh my god, Eugene, I love you. This is amazing.”

Eugene’s heart skips a beat. He does something with his hands that makes the piece of broccoli he had on his fork go flying through the room.

He’s not sure what just happened, but he can’t meet Zach’s eyes. He doesn’t have an answer either, so he stuffs his mouth with food instead. Something’s not right. He’s overwhelmed, surprised, and speechless, all at the same time.

It doesn’t make any sense; his mind is just a swirl of what the fuck’s and fuck me’ s. He doesn’t know to react, so he focus on gulping down mouthful after mouthful. Zach doesn’t seem to notice anything’s out of the ordinary. “I can barely taste anything but what I can taste is tasty as fuck and it made me realize I was starving, so thank you,” he says.

“Sure, no problem,” Eugene answers, risking a glance. Zach’s not looking at him, busy with his food. Eugene looks down again.

This. All of this. It feels too... intimate? Maybe. They are alone, having lunch together. Lunch Eugene has brought Zach, for the third time that week. It all feels too fucking cozy, too—

Too domestic.

Eugene loses his appetite all of a sudden. He manages a couple more bites, but he starts to feel anxious - his palms start to sweat, and he has the urge to get out of there. This is not a full-blown anxiety attack but it's close enough to make him stand up, cleaning out his plate and giving Zach some lame excuse about needing to be back early for a shot. He’s gone before Zach can say anything.

It’s not until he’s in his car, driving back to work, that he starts to put his thoughts together. First things first: the thing about coming over several times, well... It's not likes it's something new. He isn’t just worried now because Zach is sick – although, yeah, he has been extra worried this week –, he is always worried about him. Not in an overprotective way, just... Thinking about him. Wondering if he’s alright. If he needs anything. If he’s as happy as he should be.

That’s something a friend would do, of course, Eugene reasons with himself, but the panic building inside of him tells him otherwise. He is kinda, sorta, ridiculously attached to Zach. Everything he abhors, from spending the night watching films on a couch that’s too small for the both of them, to missing Zach’s texts when he doesn’t text him in the morning... That’s not something he does with everyone else.

That’s not something he does, period.

“Hey,” Kelsey puts a hand on his arm as Eugene walks into the office half an hour later, too dazzled to have even seen her. “You alright there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know,” she gives him a once-over, as if trying to find out what is wrong. “You look like you just saw a ghost or something.”

You could say that, he thinks to himself.

“Too much in my head,” he says, giving her a smile that he knows will convince her. It does. “Gotta go, but we’re still on Friday, right?”

“Of course!”

They part with a flying kiss from her, and Eugene goes to his desk. It’s still early for most people to have come back from lunch break, so he has at least an hour until the desks around him are busy again. Except for Zach’s, which has been empty all week; a post-it on his screen says, in Ned’s handwriting, “GONE TO HONOLULU! BYE BITCHESSS”.

The thing is, Eugene thinks as his login screen loads, he likes Zach. That much he can admit to himself. But where does friendly affection end and romantic interest begin? He hasn’t been in many relationships, always avoided them when he could. It just doesn’t work for him – that’s how he’s wired, and he doesn’t think there’s any point in trying to fight it.

But then he thinks back to Zach’s kitchen, about how he can easily find his way in his apartment. He thinks about Zach’s laugh, the dorkiest and yet most adorable thing Eugene can think of, especially when it's early in the morning and Zach can barely open his eyes. He thinks about all the times one of them was out of town, and about how it has become second nature to him to text Zach all day when that happens. He thinks about the times he’s entertained the idea of kissing Zach and blaming it on the alcohol – and the two times he actually went through with it.

Hiding his face behind his hands, Eugene sighs. This doesn’t sound good. At all. He wonders briefly if he should drop by Zach’s after work to check on him, to make sure he hasn’t left Zach with the wrong impression, but of course he hasn’t. Why is he so worried about what Zach is thinking? Why should he worry about that?

He tries the opposite of what he usually does. Instead of shutting himself off and ignoring whatever it is he is feeling, he lets his mind wander. He thinks about being with Zach – being here meaning more than just hanging out together. He wonders what it’d be like to kiss him, completely sober now, with no excuses. He wonders what it’d be like to be the one Zach texts first, and realizes with a jolt that he might as well already be. Suddenly the idea of maybe cozying up together on that tiny couch at Zach’s isn’t all that weird, which is weird in itself, because since when does Eugene think about cuddling?

Soon his coworkers start to come back from the break, and Eugene has to pretend he is incredibly focused on whatever is open on his screen. That forces him to actually pay attention to the work at hand, putting a stop to the storm inside his head.

Eugene doesn’t want to think.

Better yet: he doesn’t want to think about that. He needs to think. He needs to put his mind on work, because that’s where he should be putting his mind on, anyway. This is a crucial time, and they have a lot on their hands – Eugene has a lot on his hands already, without the added anxiety of having to think about his friend who he may or may not harbor feelings for.

It’s kinda ridiculous, he chides himself once, when he’s at the break room, getting a cup of coffee. His mind wanders to that Thursday, again, the nth time it has done so that week. He thinks about how easy it is to be around Zach; how comfortable he feels to open up cabinets in his kitchen and in his bathroom; how safe he feels when it’s just the two of them, no cameras, no nothing. He thinks about being around himon camera, and how much more fun and much more at ease he feels when Zach's there filming wih him, no matter how stupid the video they’re doing is.

Coffee spills over his cup and onto his hand. It burns - he hisses and dabs a bunch of napkins on his hand, cursing under his breath. This is not who he is. He’s not one to be getting distracted at work thinking about soft hands and easy smiles. This is not who Eugene has worked so hard to become.

So he starts avoiding Zach.

It’s for the best, he tells himself. And it’s nothing too on the nose, either. He makes sure that Zach still has everything he needs while he’s at home - and even when he’s back at work the next week - but he avoids being alone with him. Avoids being too close, or too intimate. Strict business, his demeanor says, and Zach starts to look at him a little odd, but doesn’t push it. He’s too nice for that. Besides, he has always respected Eugene’s space.

No one tries to ask if anything’s different, even though Eugene catches Keith watching him when the four of them are in a room together. No one ever does because Eugene has mastered the art of concealing his emotions, and so it doesn’t show that he feels, well, like crap. Inside and out, he feels like he’s trying too hard to just be. He pulls a muscle at the gym on a Monday, two weeks into this new Avoiding Zach routine. His skin is all sorts of wrong, and his products aren't helping. He keeps forgetting things, from his keys to the time of meetings, which is new to him.

Everything sucks, but no one notices it.

Maybe it’s for the best, he reasons with himself.

That’s until he’s had more than his fair share of cocktails at one of Buzzfeed's parties. It feels like the entire office is there, more so than in past years. It’s one master event, and the place is so big that people are spread out in clusters, a lot of them already occupying most couches and benches. He has been talking to Kelsey – Impicciche, not Darragh –, Annie, and two other people he’s sure he’s learned the name of, but can’t remember anymore, when someone touches his elbow.

He turns to find Zach, no glasses, holding a cup of something reddish in color.

“Eugene, can we talk?”

“Mmmmm,” Eugene pretends to think about it, then, “Nope.”

He pops the ‘p’, and Zach snickers, “Please? I know—I know this isn’t the best place but I can’t stop thinking that you’re mad at me and this has been eating me from inside out forever now, and I really, really wish you’d just talk to me—”

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Eugene says, slurring a bit. He has had a lot to drink. A lot. He realizes that when he considers just walking away, both from Zach and from the group he has been standing with, and his legs take quite longer than usual to understand the command. “I don’t have anything to say,” he adds, raising both hands. He fails to notice he has spilled some of his own drink.

“Ok!” Zach says, rather defensively. His face is flushed, and if Eugene were a little less drunk off his ass, he’d see Zach’s had plenty to drink, too. “But I do have something to say. Or actually, to ask. I have things to ask. And I don’t know, man, I can’t just corner you at work, that would be a dick move, even if this is technically work but not really, because we’re not being paid to be here tonight... Sorry, I’m getting carried away, but seriously, can we—?”

He touches Eugene’s elbow again, using his head to indicate that they can step aside, closer to the bushes, away from the group. He is looking so good tonight, Eugene thinks – he almost looks like he’s glowing under the artificial lighting, the pale of his eyes more clear than ever, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol. Eugene looks down at his lips, and his stomach does something weird, like somersaults. Zach doesn't look nice, he looks gorgeous. His hand has left Eugene’s elbow, because he doesn’t force contact if Eugene doesn’t let him, he never does, and fuck, why does he need to be so nice all the time?

“Fine,” Eugene says, walking away with him. If only to hear more of his voice, which he hasn't been hearing a lot of lately – avoiding Zach comes at a great cost, he concludes.

Zach just walks them a little to the back of the crowd, so they can hear each other better, and maybe not be heard by anyone else. They’re outside, and it’s quiet beyond the perimeters of the party – they can’t hear anything else in the neighborhood, and it feels almost otherworldly to be there that night. It certainly feels weird to want to touch Zach’s arms, and his face, when Eugene is standing this close to him.

“So,” Zach starts, clearing his throat. “I just—I just, you know, I wanna know if I’ve done something wrong? If I’ve hurt you, or—I don’t know, if, if—You’ve been distant, Eugene” he says, looking up at Eugene.

And fuck, man. Fuck. Eugene can’t deal with Zach’s big, beautiful eyes, looking up at him like that – nervous, sad, hurt. It makes Eugene feel like the biggest jerk ever, and all he wants is to make Zach understand that nothing is his fault. Nothing about this is on him, it’s all on Eugene, and he shouldn’t be the one looking at him like that.

“It’s for the best,” Eugene says, repeating the words he has been saying to himself a lot lately.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s for the best’? Whose best? Why is that the best for anyone?”

“Because it is! You don’t want me fucking up your life, do you?”

“Eugene, what the fuck?” Zach looks confused. “Why would you fuck up my life? What’s going on?”

Eugene looks away, shaking his head. He feels embarrassed. He understands, deep in his core, that this is all his fault. For letting himself feel any of this, feel this way towards one of his closest friends. Just how dumb is he, really? It’s not like he doesn’t know what would happen. What is happening.

“Forget it,” Eugene says, but Zach is adamant.

“I can’t forget it, not when you’re trying to keep me away from you.”

“It’s—Jesus Christ, Zach, it’s the other way around. You got it all wrong.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did I get it wrong, Eugene?”

“I’m trying to keep myself away from you so I can stop feeling the way I feel about you.”

A pause. Zach stares at him.

“Which is...?”

“This,” Eugene gestures to himself, which in his mind makes perfect sense. He’s showing Zach the walking mistake, the man that can’t get attached, the man that’s bound to make a mess and hurt him and just— “I can’t hurt you. I just can’t. I don’t want to and I don’t think I can fucking handle it.”

“Well, that’s good,” Zach starts, but Eugene isn’t finished; he feels the words tumbling out of his mouth before he has processed them.

“Because that’s what would happen if I let myself have feelings for you, or if I let myself get too attached to the idea of being with you, because that’s who I am. I—I fuck up, I make messes, and I don’t—I don’t know how to be with anyone, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before,” he laughs, incredulous. “Fuck me, I’m in my thirties, it’s way too late to learn this shit. I just can’t.”

Zach doesn’t say anything at first, staring at him, wide-eyed. Eugene is trying to stop laughing, but he’s now giggling uncontrollably, looking at Zach.

“This is ridiculous. Isn't it? How a person can fall for a friend and ruin one of the best friendships, relat—work relationships he’s ever had? Of course I’d do that,” Eugene opens his arms wide, takes a couple steps back. He’s grinning from ear to ear. He says even louder this time, “Eugene Lee Yang, a fucking moron!”

“Stop that,” Zach says.

“I don’t care if they listen.”

“I don’t mean that,” Zach gets close again, tries to take the drink away from Eugene’s hand. “I mean, don’t call yourself that, don’t—You’re not a moron.”

Eugene bats away Zach’s hand, keeping the drink close to his chest. He doesn’t remember what’s in his glass, but it doesn’t matter, because he knows it’s alcohol. Just what he needs, and will always need. At least drunk he doesn’t need to worry about a thing, he doesn’t need to hide or calculate his words. Zach looks weird, now – his smile has dropped, and his eyes look shiny, and he’s not looking Eugene in the eye.

And that’s when Eugene understands what he has just done.

“No,” he says, heart starting to beat faster. “No, fuck, forget I said anything.”

“You can’t ask me that.”

“I just did. Please, Zach—”

“You know, I think we should have this conversation some other time,” Zach looks at him, immediately winces, and looks away. “I—I should go.”

“Zach—” Eugene tries, but Zach steps around him and then away, not looking back.

Eugene’s heart tightens as he watches Zach’s hunched figure dart between the crowd before he vanishes from sight. It’s a stupid muscle, Eugene gathers, and he must’ve pulled it too because it hurts, now. Not something he has ever felt, but like his heart is a tiny bird flapping its wings very fast, trying to fly out of a cage that’s a size too small for him. It keeps throwing itself against the bars, hurting, hurting, hurting, and it never stops, it won’t stop. Eugene feels sick. He chugs the rest of his drink, trying to quell the awful feeling in his chest; the liquid burnshis throat on the way down.

It hurts, and it doesn’t stop hurting the next day. His head is exploding when he wakes up just after lunch, mouth dry and stomach lurching. He hasn’t thrown up in a long time, but if it continues like this, he might be bending over his toilet later. After he has taken care of his most basic needs – water, peeing, a toast to keep his blood pressure where it should be – he checks his phone.

One name stands out in his notifications, and it all comes back to him. His heart clenches again, thinking about the night before.

Zach.

Eugene regrets opening his mouth, but he doesn’t blame the alcohol. If anything, he blames himself. He should’ve known better – he does know better, and fuck, since when does he let any kind of feeling dictate how he should behave? Since when does he let his heart, hurt as it is, dumb as it is, take the reins?

The message simply says “can we meet?”. It was sent around 10 a.m., because of course. Zach probably has a headache, too. He always has when he drinks too much, even if his too much is miles away from Eugene’s too much. Eugene groans just thinking about it. He knows Zach so well, and he knows himself so well – why did he need to say anything?

He texts back with a “Sure”. He’s far from sure, but he owes Zach this. If he can at least explain it, explain why he didn’t say anything before and why he was such a jackass, then maybe... Maybe Zach will just leave it all behind.

Maybe.

After some more awkward, emoji-less texts, they settle for 4 p.m. at Eugene’s place. It gives him enough time to shower, order in some lunch, get onto some important emails. He calls his mom, too, when he’s sure she’s not at church. It’s a weird conversation; he doesn’t know how to explain why he sounds so tired, or why he’s giving one-word answers. He wants to tell her, even if just to let it out of his chest, but this is not something they talk about. They never have, and they’re not starting now. She wouldn’t be comfortable with the topic, and he probably wouldn’t either.

His apartment starts to feel very suffocating.

He does his best to clean up after he hangs up, opening the blinds, changing the towels in his bathroom, taking out the trash. It helps him keep focused, even if his head is still sore, and his thirst never ending. 

Zach is there at 4 p.m. sharp.

It’s a weird thing to have him there, in front of him. Eugene is scared when he opens the door, which is something he isn’t expecting to feel at that moment. Zach, wearing a cap, hands hidden inside the pockets of his hoodie, smiles.

Eugene tries to smile back, but his heart is doing that stupid thing again.

He doesn’t want to lose Zach. He doesn’t want to see that smile any less. He doesn’t want to walk on eggshells around him because he doesn’t know how to keep his emotions in check.

“Hey,” Zach says, walking inside. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, which is good, but he does hesitate, standing in Eugene’s living room before he crouches down to rub Pesto's belly. “Should we, uh… Should I sit down? Can we sit down?”

“Of course,” Eugene follows, but doesn’t sit next to him on the couch. He perches himself on the only armchair there is. Emma is taking the seat, so he opts for the arm.

They are in silence for a couple of seconds before Eugene says, “I think I have—No, nevermind, I don’t. Water?”

Zach chuckles, “No, thanks. I’m guessing all you have to offer is alcohol?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

They laugh; Eugene feels his shoulders tense and tries to relax, but it’s hard. He’s hugging himself, almost, arms crossed in front of him. Zach looks small on his couch, like he’s trying not to take too much space.

“About yesterday, I think I should—"

“Wait, Zach, no,” Eugene interrupts him, sighing. He lets his head hang low for a brief moment before he’s looking Zach in the eye again. “I need to apologize. That’s the first thing that’s happening here. I was… Well, I was a dick yesterday. And I…” He tries to find the right words for this, but nothing sounds right in his head. “I don’t know, I think I had some kind of breakdown. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Zach watches him, patiently. When he’s done, Zach looks down at his hands and nods.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t—You were drunk, we were bothreally drunk.”

“Yeah, well, that’s still no excuse,” Eugene says, mumbling the words. Zach smiles at him.

“You’re right, it’s not.”

There’s a moment of silence in which their eyes meet.

“Did you mean it?”

Zach’s voice is so low and soft, it’s barely a whisper. Eugene hesitates, mouth hanging open as he tries to think of a way to answer that at the same time that it dawns on him that Zach was most probably holding back tears the night before. The glasses he's wearing now catch his attention, reminding him of how at the party Zach's eyes were clear, shining with tears. He doesn't know how he missed that.

“I—” He stops, wets his lips. “Yeah. I did mean every word of it.”

“So you have feelings for me?”

Eugene nods. He’s proud of himself for not avoiding Zach’s eyes when he does.

“But you don’t… like anyone.”

A beat. “I don’t. Usually.”

“Wow,” Zach blinks, looking down at his fingers again. “A lot to process there.”

Eugene can’t help but chuckle a little, because yeah.

“Why did you act like that was a bad thing, though?”

“Because—” The words die on his throat. Because maybe this isn’t real and I’d only hurt you, he thinks. I’d ruin our friendship by starting something that’s not gonna last. He doesn’t have the courage to say any of this, not right now. Something inside of him is screaming for him to not say it. The part of him that thinks that this is different. That this is not just a fling that may be worth keeping around. He and Zach have known each other for so long now, they know each other so intimately well, it’s absurd. They have talked about everything under the sun, except maybe the things Eugene tends to keep for himself. But he realizes in that split second that he wouldn’t mind maybe - who knows - sharing those with Zach, too. Slowly, someday. The idea of sharing some of the things hidden in the corners of his mind with him isn’t so bad. Zach means all the good things Eugene can think of, including...

Home.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Eugene finally says. His voice cracks a bit.

Zach’s eyes on him are soft, understanding. “Neither do I. No one does, I think.”

“Ned does,” Eugene argues. “Keith does, too. Shane and Sara—”

“Well, maybe some people do,” Zach stops him right there, shifting forward so he’s on the edge of the couch. “But not everyone. I certainly don’t, you know I haven’t had a relationship in forever.”

Eugene shakes his head, both negating what he just said and also to shake off any tears or uncertainty from his voice. “It’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re—” Eugene gesticulates, trying to find the right way to say what he has only felt so far. “You’re open. You wear your feelings on your sleeve and you’re fine with it. That’s how people should be in a relationship. I—I’m guarded, closed off, I—I don’t know—Fuck,” he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, refusing to let himself get teary-eyed. “I’m not a good partner, ok? I just know that. And you don’t deserve it. Not that I know what you deserve, all I know is that you deserve someone better than me.”

There’s the rustling of fabric before Eugene sees Zach has walked over and is now kneeling in front of him, one hand on Eugene's knee. He’s looking up at him, the corners of his mouth curving up; he looks lovely. He islovely, and this is too much. Eugene wants to touch him, wants to caress his cheek, wants to just know how his skin feels like in a touch that lasts longer than a mere second.

“I disagree with everything you just said, and that’s fine, because you’re wrong,” Zach says, making Eugene laugh. “You’re so worried about not being good enough that you haven’t even asked me how I feel about this.”

Eugene doesn’t know what to say, so he just looks at him.

“I like you, Eugene. Like, as fuck. As in, I want to hug the hell out of you and also maybe have some crazy, hardcore sex, all in one. Or maybe we don’t hug all that much because I know you’re not crazy about hugs, and I completely understand that.”

“Wait, what?”

“I must say, though, that I’ve been pretty vanilla all my life so I pictured more of a slow buildup for our sex live. If we were to have one, of course. Not that I’ve been fantasizing about you but we’ve talked so much about sex, it just comes out like this, sorry.”

“You like me?”

Zach gives him the softest smile Eugene has ever seen, and yeah, Eugene’s heart has stopped throwing itself against its cage; it flies free now, everywhere, giving him the sensation of… fucking hell, butterflies in his stomach.

“Yes, I do. Very much so.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Look who’s talking!” Zach shoots back, laughing. “But nah, I didn’t think you’d reciprocate, you know? Like, even if you somehow looked at me that way despite all the gorgeous people you’re usually making out with, I figured you’d worry about making it weird between us.”

“Well, yeah. We work together.”

“All the better. Office sex,” Zach jokes, and Eugene almost chokes on his own spit, bursting into laughter. “No but seriously, we’re grownass men, we can handle a possible breakup. Although I don’t think we will have to.”

“We don’t even have anything to break—”

Eugene doesn’t get a chance to finish. Zach stands up to reach his face and kisses him, just a press of lips that shuts Eugene up instantly. It’s surreal. It’s what Eugene has been dreaming about doing for what? months now. It’s all Zach - Zach’s soft lips, Zach’s aftershave, Zach’s entire being and existence just in reach...

“Now we do,” Zach says as he parts, smile so big Eugene can’t help but open one of his own. “Please don’t breakup with me, though.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Because as much as Eugene wants this, and oh god, he wants it so much… As much as he wants this, he still fears what the future holds for them. He’s still unsure about his ability to give Zach all that he needs, all that he deserves, and he’s terrified that he’ll eventually hurt him. But Zach kisses him again, this time closer, harder, and Eugene finds himself holding him by the waist as Zach’s arms sneak around his neck.

“I’m sure,” Zach says against his lips. His voice is an octave lower, and Eugene is so terribly, ridiculously in love. “We’ll talk about this, but for now can you do me a favor and just kiss me until I can’t feel my lips? Thank you.”

Eugene grins, and kisses him again.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ned says, smirking. "I got this. The gift from Eugene was... a collar."

The room explodes in laughter as Ariel slaps his arm. 

"What? It's possible! They're two consenting adults..."

"That would be hilarious," offers Keith, red-faced from laughing too hard and from the wine he has been nursing.

"Jesus Christ, can we not talk about our sex lives this early in the evening?" Zach says, but he's laughing. Eugene has an arm around his waist, so he feels Zach shaking with laughter under his touch. "I'm gonna need way more beer for that."

"Good idea!" Eugene kisses his temple and walks out of the room, towards the kitchen. He runs into Becky coming back and asks her about the drinks; she directs him to the right fridge.

It's when he's bent down, piling beers on his arms, that he hears whistling. He turns around just as Zach says, "Damn, I'd so tap that."

Eugene laughs so hard he nearly drops a bottle. They manage to get six of them on the counter, and Zach uses the opportunity to say, "You think we should tell them?"

"Only if you want to. I mean, I think we'll enjoy Venice a lot more if Ned isn't texting us every ten minutes. But if you want to tell them, I don't mind. It's your present, so it's your call."

"Nah," Zach rests his chin on his hand, leaning on the counter. "They're having too much fun to trying to figure it out. But if we get stranded on a desert island on our way there and need them to find us we're so fucked."

"We're fucked either way if that ever happens, but I promise not to eat you."

Zach smiles, "Aw, baby! Thank you! I promise not to eat you too."

They laugh, and Zach leans forward to give Eugene a peck on the lips. "Happy anniversary," he says. 

It's been a year, but Zach's voice still sounds like music to Eugene's ears. He can't contain his smile when he replies, "Happy anniversary, Zach."

[mandej]

2,797 ( playlist )

@thebuzzfeedchallenge round four: milestones

prompt + partner: five years anniversary + @shouldbestevdrew 

pairing: standrew

rating: general, no warnings

tags: No Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - College/University, sort of, skating rink au, if those exist

summary: A couple small-town kids hit it off opening night of a local skating rink. Five years later they’re still in love.

[wheezefeeds]

@thebuzzfeedchallenge Round 4: Milestones

Read on AO3: HERE

Prompt: Turning 30

Partner: @unsolvedbs

Ship: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Reincarnation, demon shane madej, supernatural elements, temporary character death, getting together, angst, suicidal thoughts, smut

Summary:

Shane made a deal with a daemon to keep his best friend safe and alive, then faced the consequences of that choice for the rest of his life. And Shane has lived a very long life.

[unsolvedbs]

Spring Brings Primrose

Steven is tasked with more than he bargained for when tasked to be the personal guard of the unpredictable Prince Andrew. As they understand each other better, they learn that there's more than just the surface, even if understanding their own thoughts may be difficult.

A flower can flourish in the autumn, and though it will suffer in the winter, it will inevitably bloom in the spring.

Worth It Standrew, Chapters 1/3, Word Count: 16,831, Rating: Mature

❀ AO3 Link ❀

Hey guys!! So here is my contribution to @thebuzzfeedchallenge !! My prompt was flowers/trees blooming, and my partner was @thegodbucky ! I got a lil carried away with this, but I’ll be updating the rest of it as soon as I have the thoughts all typed up. The only warnings I can think of is there might be a little bit of violence later on. :-)

Here’s an excerpt of the fic - the poem I wrote for it that briefly tells of the outcome:

As drapes of twilight night are drawn

The morning gale come sings her song:

“Prithee,” she sing, “What lovely day.

The bullfrogs cry and th’ foxes play.”

And in their unsuspecting fun

A tale profound charms ev’ryone.

Hooray! Oh Joy! Oh joyous day!

Hautbois and trumpets lead their way!

A Prince of fear and cold of heart,

One saved us all from God’s depart.

A kindness overtook this land

With thoughts and prom’ses of a band.

Pray, give this bond eternal trust,

In love and hardship, this it must.

His garden that the steed will sow

Seeds love and adoration grow.

Present ye first a jonquil much

‘Nnum’r’ble meanings beyond the bunch.

Restless the pond, the breeze - it sighs:

For in its midst, coriander lies.

Red rose, carnations, row by row,

Under blue skies, man-made meadow.

Prince knows not the meaning of each,

But Knight will be willing to preach.

The dawn will lead the moonflow’r close

And in its place reveal primrose.

[sunshinebergara]

BuzzFeed Challenge - April: Springtime

Here's my submission for @thebuzzfeedchallenge - a fic from the prompt "pastels". Had a lot of fun doing this!

My partner is @zellymaybloom (can't wait to see what you do!)

Trigger warnings for alcohol use and being drunk

Do I look good in pink?

By bloodyloveletters

Teen audiences, M/M, BuzzFeed Unsolved

Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej

Summary: Shane looks really good in pastels apparently and it gets to Ryan although he hasn't realised why yet.

[aliveprofessor]

The First Day

so this is for the first round of the buzzfeed creation challenge for @thebuzzfeedchallenge and my prompt was the “first day of work”. my partner is @thepossessionofshanemadej, and here it is! the thing i made over the course of like a sick day and a half

(also uhhhh big thanks to @faequill for the au and also for being basically my new parent)

Title: The First Day

Description: Ryan is taken on an... adventure on his first day of work.

TW: none! heavy basketball talk for a little bitch who has never seen a basketball game in his life, god bless him

WC: 2144

AO3 LINK HERE

Ryan pulled up to the gleaming mass of metal, finding a parking space somewhere close. He had his box of stuff with him: a notebook full of semi-fleshed out ideas, a flash drive, some trinkets, a calendar. He took a solemn breath and pushed open the doors, prepared for the worst.

Ryan had heard incredible stories about what went on inside Buzzfeed buildings and, truth be told, he was excited to be involved in a story that involved too many naked coworkers.

And then, he was greeted by an underwhelming “Fuck!” as someone dropped their coffee. The boiling drink splashed up Ryan’s jeans, stinging the skin there.

“I’m so, so sorry,” The man said, blond curls flopping over as he picked up a few of the biggest shards.

Ryan shook himself out of his daze, stooping down to help. “It’s okay.”

As soon as he was done, the man stood up and held out his hand. “I’m Zack.”

“Ryan,” Ryan said shaking Zack’s hand.

Zack glanced at the box Ryan had perched on the rim of a potted plant. “First day?”

Ryan nodded.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Zack grinned apologetically, “Wanna sit by me? I’ve got a spare seat and I promise I’ll try to not spill everything on you.”

“Only if you promise,” Ryan smiled back, feeling like a bit of a foolhardy character in a rom-com. Granted, Zack was an attractive human being, but Ryan wasn’t the kind of person to fall for every pretty face he saw.

Zack, still grinning, led Ryan to the promised empty desk. Ryan quickly spread his stuff out over the desk, as if maybe it’d be taken if he were too slow in unpacking.

“You’re a Lakers fan too?” Zack asked, grinning madly. Ryan gasped, excitedly turning to the other man. “Yeah!”

“Oh my God,” Zack looked at his clock, face falling. “Uhh… I wish I could stay and talk about this, but I have to work on this video. I’m supposed to shoot it today and I don’t even know who I’m gonna have in it!”

Then, as though he’d just realized who he was talking to, Zack’s face lit up again. “You could be in it - you’re an intern, right?”

Ryan nodded hesitantly.

“Don’t be shy - it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, c’mon,” Zack grabbed Ryan’s arm and yanked him along. Ryan tailed after the taller man, the linoleum floor rising up to meet their sneakers. In retrospect, Ryan had wanted an adventure.

Ryan found himself in a small faded green car, fabric seats worn and fast food trash littered around the floor.

“Sorry, my car is kind of a mess,” Zack apologized, brushing garbage off of the passenger seat. Ryan sat down, buckling up as Zack explained the video.

Zack started the car. “So my idea was that we could have a few guys meet some professional basketball players - y’know, watch ‘em play up close and then like hang out for a day. And, wouldn’t ya’ know, the NBA was totally cool with that!”

Ryan blinked.

“So, I wanted to direct, and there were three players on the Lakers who really wanted to do it. I’m stoked, Garrett’s stoked, Jen’s stoked -”

“Woah, so which Lakers player am I meeting?” Ryan asked.

Zack had Ryan pull his notes out of his bag and tell him which player he didn’t match someone up with. “No fucking way -”

“It’s Madej, isn’t it?” Zack interrupted Ryan’s exclamation.

Ryan’s voice came way too close to a squeal when he replied. “Yeah.”

And then, the insecurity set in. He was meeting Shane Madej, and he was wearing a dumb graphic tee and coffee-stained jeans.

“You’re gonna do great!” Zack reassured, turning to violently honk at the mountain of traffic. Ryan let out a shaky breath, groaning into his palms.

Soon enough, though, Ryan looked up at the Staples Center, the red letters glaring down at him through the bright morning sun.

“This is just gonna be a practice,” Zack said, “So this place is pretty much just us and the people who have to be there all the time.”

Ryan was awestruck as he entered the main floor, where the Lakers were practicing. The tech and film crew for the shoot were already there, setting up a few tripods and some lights. A shorter woman and an astonishingly tall man were sitting on the bench.

“Sorry we’re late,” Zack grinned, one of the cameras swiveling around to face him and Ryan, “This is Ryan, the poor intern I’ve dragged along for his first video.”

“Aw,” Jen grinned, “He’s cute.”

“Thanks,” Ryan’s face flushed, and he realized how dumb his glasses looked. He handed the papers Zack had had him carry back to their owner and took his seat on the bench by Jen and who he could only assume was Garrett.

Jen patted his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Who’re you hanging with?”

“Madej,” Ryan murmured, and Jen’s eyes got huge.

“Dude,” She gaped, “He’s so cool. Lucky duck!”

“Oh, like you got stuck with Lonzo Ball,” Ryan rolled his eyes, watching the practice. Jen laughed next to him, and after a solid five seconds of pretending to be mad, Ryan broke too.

“I have never watched a Lakers game in my life,” Garrett interjected, “And yet, this is somehow the best day of my life.”

They spent the next three hours joking and - maybe this was just Ryan - watching the… athletic prowess of the basketball players. So, okay, maybe Michael Jordan in Space Jam was Ryan’s sexual awakening, but was that really Ryan’s fault?

The end of rehearsal came too fast and, yet, not fast enough. Everyone sort of pittered to a stop, grabbing towels and water bottles. Shane Madej even stopped in front of Ryan to introduce himself.

“Hi!” He grinned, “I’m Shane Madej. Who are you?”

Ryan, who had been expecting ‘are you the idiot they signed me up to go to Starbucks with’ stuttered out, “Y - yes?”

Shane started laughing, and Ryan desperately tried to correct himself. “Sorry - sorry, I mean - my name is Ryan Bergara! I’m sor -”

“Don’t sweat it,” Shane said through tears of laughter, “That’s the hardest I’ve laughed in ages. You ready? I take maybe half an hour to cool down and change out, and after that I think they want us to go to, like, lunch or whatever.”

Ryan nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sweet.”

Shane left, and Ryan buried his face in his hands. Jen patted him on the shoulder awkwardly.

“At least it’ll make a good video,” Ryan grumbled into his hands, voice muffled. Jen made a noise of affirmation, and soon, Ryan had devolved to playing a game on his phone. Shane appeared, looking alarmingly normal for someone who was on the Lakers - the Lakers! - wearing a hoodie and jeans.

“Ready?” Shane asked, a twinkle in his eye. Ryan felt something in his heart twist in a not-unpleasant way, and he nodded and grinned back.

Ryan suggested an Italian place - Cafe Palermo. Shane agreed, pulling it up on Google Maps and pulling out of the employee parking lot at the Staples Center.

They finally got to the Cafe, and it was a cute little place, with checkered tile and tables outside.

“Wanna sit out here?” Shane asked, sitting down at a circular table. After checking them in, Ryan joined him, looking at the menu. The waitress came out, a young woman with curly black hair and a polite smile.

“Hi, I’m Veronica, I’ll be your server. What can I get for you gentlemen?” She asked, holding up the notepad, “Anything to drink?”

Ryan got a Fanta and Shane just got water, and Veronica went back inside for a while.

“So…” Ryan began, absolutely buzzing with adrenaline.

Shane looked bemusedly at Ryan as Ryan asked so many basketball questions Shane almost didn’t know what to do with him. Shane replied as short as he could every time, hoping to speed through questions about his job.

And after a while, Ryan seemed to catch up on that. “Sorry, dude, if this is like, boring, or -”

“Hey, it’s okay!” Shane grinned, “It’s just… look, I get asked these questions every day. I know you want to hear it right from the horse’s mouth, but so does every reporter in existence. I’m kinda tired of talking about my day job, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Ryan nodded, silent for a moment. “Why don’t you ask me questions, then? We’re supposed to be hanging out, right? I’m not interviewing you.”

Shane was quiet and thoughtful as he asked his questions. “Where are you from?”

“SoCal,” Ryan replied, chin resting on his hand. They chatted for a while until Ryan brought up the one subject he’d hoped Shane didn’t disagree with him on.

“... Woah, woah, woah,” Shane interrupted, “You believe in ghosts?”

“You don’t?”

Shane peered at Ryan over his water, dumbfounded. “Yeah, I’m not an idiot -”

Before they continue, Veronica interrupted them. “Are you ready to order?”

And they got what they wanted, and they went right back to arguing. The heated debate lasted for another good hour and a half, with intermittent breaks for eating and glaring at each other without much fire behind their eyes. In fact, Ryan would say that Shane was growing on him

“Stop for coffee before I take you back to work?” Shane asked as Ryan sipped on the last refill of his Fanta. Ryan nodded, and Shane took him to Starbucks.

“Man, I can feel myself getting whiter,” Ryan joked as he walked into the store. They both got their usuals and piled back into Shane’s car.

“How do you stand this thing?” Ryan asked, “You’re, like, a giant.”

Shane joked back. “Watch it, Bergara. It’s not my fault you obviously didn’t eat your greens.”

“Oh, yeah, and I’m sure you grew up eating nothing but kale and green beans,” Ryan said, pouting mockingly and taking a sip of his latte.

Shane snorted. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve eaten.”

“And what would that be?”

“I dunno, Ry, there’s just so many good contenders,” Shane said, and in that moment Ryan truly knew what it was like when people talked about butterflies in their stomachs, electricity down their spines. And, of course, Shane had to follow it with the least sexy sentence imaginable. “Like, this one time, I just fucking took a bite out of a pumpkin.”

“And suddenly, everything about you makes sense,” Ryan exclaimed, “Your head is actually just a pumpkin!”

“Asshole,” Shane remarked, drumming his fingers on the dashboard as there was a lull in the conversation. It wasn’t awkward, Ryan realized, it was just like they were two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place and they didn’t need to talk all the time.

“I liked hanging out with you,” Ryan admitted as Shane pulled into the parking lot of the Buzzfeed office.

“You too, little guy,” Shane smiled, pulling Ryan in for a one-armed hug after he’d parked.

“You’re still a dick.”

“And you’re still an asshole.”

“We’ll have to do this again.”

“Yeah.”

And with that, Shane was pulling away, and Ryan felt panic shoot through his body.

Fuck, thought Ryan, in his coffee-stained jeans and shitty t-shirt and Nike tennis shoes, I don’t have his phone number!

Now melancholy, Ryan trudged back into the office, feeling deflated and exhausted after the eventfulness of his first day. It was only after lunch, everyone else slowly meandering back into the office. Ryan plopped down at his desk, Zack still not back to fill the space between him and the guy on Zack’s left.

“Justin,” He said curtly, introducing himself and letting Ryan do the same before going back to his project. Slowly, Ryan turned on the computer, throwing his empty latte into the trash can under his desk. He drummed his fingers on the desk, letting his reality catch up to him.

It wouldn’t be eventful all the time, and it wouldn’t be Meeting A Basketball Star You’ve Had A Crush On Since He Was In The NCAA big, but it would be good. Ryan thought it would be good, anyway.

Then, he realized that there was something smudged onto his hand. Sharpie, from his coffee. He figured he’d never looked at how the barista had written his name - Shane had gone and gotten both of their drinks. He looked at it, turning it over to see two different styles of handwriting.

One had his name on it - and the other had a phone number.

call me, since you seem to think ur hot shit ;)

And then, it was decided that as long as Ryan lived, there really wouldn’t be a day that lived up to that one. He’d peaked.

Of course, he’d say differently later. But, then again, he’d still have six and a half years to go until Shane proposed.

[moooncaakes]

What’s up yall I wrote again for some reason so uh, go ahead and read it if you’d like.

From what he’d hear first kisses were supposed to be sweet and kind, gentle and soft. He used to dream about what his first kiss would be like; this was nothing like how he’d dreamed. He always thought it would be slow and meaningful, something to be cherished, to take your time with. This was nothing like it. This was fast and hungry, lustful and angry. This was thousands of missed opportunities due to their oblivious nature’s. This was deeply rooted in lust and want, this was frantic and they were holding on for dear life as if they were to let go the other would disappear.

They pulled each other closer desperately trying to make up for lost time. They pulled away struggling to catch their breaths.

Steven rested his forehead against Andrew’s. It was silent for a few moments before a giggle broke from Steven’s mouth. “I can’t believe we waited this long to do this,” Andrew whispered into Stevens’ ear. In response, Steven snuggled into Andrew’s chest and began to drift off.

[ricky-goldsworth]

BFCC Round 1: Try Guys Try Facebook Video

Fandom: Buzzfeed: The Try Guys (Web Series) Rating: Gen Warnings: mild alcohol use Partner: @aesoteric Prompt: First Episode

Summary: It takes Eugene almost a week to realise what he's getting dragged into. When he realises it, though, he gives as good as he gets.

READ IT ON AO3

FRIDAY NIGHT

They’re out for drinks with a couple of co-workers when Keith Habersberger slides in next to Eugene – who pointedly doesn’t make room for him, because seriously, there are eight people in the booth already and who is this guy kidding – and gives him a look that means he’s either got a proposition, or a proposition.

Eugene downs his drink and fixes him with a look of his own. He hasn’t got time for anything Keith is selling right now; he’s got to be up at five tomorrow to start shooting at seven.

Keith flashes him his Muppet grin. “So,” he says, “You know Facebook video?”

“…yeah?”

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

The break room is deserted this late. The fluorescent lights have bleached it into primary colours, the windows above the counter looking like cut-outs in a set, stark squares of shiny black. Eugene is making his third coffee of the evening, leaning against the counter and dumping sugar in with instant by the tablespoon with his mind on the logistics of the shoot he’s got booked for Saturday, when he hears someone behind him and looks up, surprised.

It’s Zach Kornfeld, looking as beat as Eugene feels. He makes a couple abortive motions – “oh – sorry – uh, can I –?” – visibly trying to puzzle out how to get around Eugene without intruding on his space.

Eugene takes his mug and steps back from the counter. “You good?” he asks, and Zach smiles, self-deprecating.

“Yeah, sorry, just need a refill.”

Eugene nods, stirs his coffee absently. “Deadline?”

Zach shakes his head as he reaches over to the minifridge, pulls out a carton of soy milk. “Just working on concept stuff,” he says. “Facebook video, you know?”

Eugene smiles into his mug, “So I’ve heard.” There’s a pause, and then because contrary to popular belief Eugene is not an asshole and he does notice when people are stressed out of their minds and need some help, he says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Zach gives him a tight-mouthed smile, turning back from the counter with his mug cradled against his chest. “You have a thing on Saturday, right? A big one?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m just waiting to hear back on some stuff.” Eugene waves a hand dismissively. The ‘stuff’ has been circling in his head since midday, but normal people do not check their emails at eleven o’clock at night so it’s probably a safe bet that he’s not making any more real progress until at least the open of business tomorrow.

Zach wrinkles his nose. “Why are you still here, then?”

Eugene shrugs. “Habit,” he says. “Plus if I went home and missed something, I’d be kicking myself.”

“That’s probably not the healthiest, dude,” Zach laughs, but, coffee in hand, he starts back toward his desk, nodding for Eugene to follow. He’s already looking more focussed, just by virtue of having someone to voice his ideas to.

“I mean, I don’t see you going home either,” Eugene takes a sip from his mug as he falls into step behind him. “What ideas have you got so far?”

Zach drops his weight into his chair, flicks his monitor on. “Ned’s got all these ideas about appealing to women. So, we were thinking about doing makeup reviews or something, but then we were like ‘that’s fucking boring’, you know?”

FRIDAY NIGHT

“…it’s doing numbers, and Ned Fulmer, the manager? You know, the super married one? He wants to get a crew together and try a few videos for the platform. He’s done a bunch of research. Says we specifically need appeal to women.”

Eugene has a pretty good idea of where this is going, but he waits for Keith to finish. It’s probably a bit mean, but watching BuzzFeed’s more charismatic types spin themselves out on his silence is kind of fun.

“So, we were throwing stuff at the wall, just seeing what sticks, and we thought, how about we put some dudes in Victoria’s Secret?”

“Oh.” This is… not where Eugene thought this was going at all, actually.

THURSDAY MORNING

Ned Fulmer is an odd combination of high school jock and suburban dad. As a managerial style it essentially equals out to tooth-rotting enthusiasm with a competitive streak, which, makes a lot of sense for BuzzFeed when you think about it.

He’s striding through the office in a polo shirt and chinos, his phone in hand, craning his neck over the desks and clearly looking for someone. Eugene does not have time for whatever this is. He pulls his headphones on and tries to look as engrossed in his work as possible (which isn’t hard: he needs to book at least sixteen models for a shoot three days from now, and he hasn’t technically got approval for more than three. The emails are getting heated).

It doesn’t work.

“Eugene!” Ned says, stopping right behind him with a huge smile.

Eugene rolls his chair back slowly, looks up at Ned as he pulls his headphones off. “Yes?”

“I need your expertise.”

“I’m pretty busy with the set-up for Saturday, but… sure, what do you need?”

“I know you’ve got the hook-up for costuming. Would you be able to help us get our hands on some underwear?”

“…what are you looking for, exactly?” Eugene asks.

“Uhh, women’s underwear, specifically. Sexy stuff.”

Eugene can’t stop the smirk from sliding onto his face. “Seriously.”

Ned bristles. “Yeah, seriously. Why, is that a problem?”

Eugene’s smirk turns into a proper, easy grin. Ned’s technically his boss, but he gets flustered so easily and it’s so much fun. “No, of course not. Did you have a label in mind? A style?”

FRIDAY NIGHT

“So we were thinking, what if we got a bunch of dudes to try on women’s underwear and like, try to empathise with them. But then also it’s funny, ‘cause we’re a bunch’a clueless dudes trying to figure out women’s underwear.”

“This sounds… potentially insensitive,” Eugene says slowly, but it is an interesting angle, he supposes. It’s certainly more interesting than makeup reviews.

“No, no, because it’s all about us, right? We’re laughing at ourselves. And at the underwear, and like, beauty standards.”

“…okay. So what do you need me for, styling? This doesn’t seem like it needs much direction.”

Keith smiles crookedly, adjusts his glasses. “Actually,” he says, and now compared to his usual volume he’s practically mumbling, “We were wondering if you’d be in it?”

Eugene snorts, and then he’s too busy trying to play off the fact that he just snorted to catch the next few sentences out of Keith’s mouth.

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

Ned is working out of a boardroom with actual walls, which is something like a badge of honour in this company, but from the way he’s sitting perched on the edge of his seat like he’s afraid it’s going to bite him, Eugene is assuming this isn’t actually where he’s supposed to be.

He raps on the doorframe, and Ned snaps his head up like a deer in headlights, before grinning, relieved, when he sees it’s not Ze or someone else with the ability to kick him out.

“Eugene! Hi! How’d you get on?” Ned asks, pushing back from the mess of papers spread out in front of him.

Eugene steps into the room, sets his shopping bags down on the table, all business. “So, you’re good to keep these, obviously, but they’re not exactly top of the line because given the tone of the video I was never going to be able to convince them to count it as advertising so we did have to pay retail price. Still, I had an intern pick up about six different styles in different sizes and colours. You should be set.”

Ned is already digging into the bags, pulling out skimpy bits of fabric and holding them up for examination. “These are great,” he says, grinning at Eugene. “Thanks man, these are gonna be perfect.”

“…so, what’s the video?” Eugene asks, morbid curiosity overtaking his desire to get back to his own project.

Ned puts the underwear down and picks up a sheath of papers from the table, pushes it into Eugene’s hands. “Here, here,” he says. He looks more excited about the papers than he was about the G-string.

Eugene scans the page, flicks his eyes back to Ned. “Facebook video?”

FRIDAY NIGHT

When he tunes back in, Keith is saying, “…and we wanted to get an attractive guy to round it out. And uh, that’s you. If you’re up for it.”

“Keith,” Eugene starts, and then stops, clears his throat, tries again, “…you’re aware that I’m a producer, not a personality, right? Like, I’m flattered, but I’m not funny.”

Keith looks genuinely surprised. “Yeah you are! I mean, yeah, you’re pretty dry, but you’re funny! And you’re confident, which we need, because we’re also getting Zach Kornfeld in and he’s kind of a mess, so.”

Eugene laughs in spite of himself. He can actually see Zach out of the corner of his eye right now, hovering over near the dancefloor, trying and failing to make conversation with a friend of Ella’s. He looks like he’s about ready to bolt. Watching him try to keep it together half-naked on camera would be… something, that’s for sure.

“You’d be a good fit, honestly. I wouldn’t be asking you if we didn’t think you could do it,” Keith says, and he’s looking at Eugene like he’s actually concerned, like he thinks he might have put Eugene out of his depth just by asking this.

It’s disarming. Eugene tries not to let his face give him away, but he’s kind of. Touched? “I mean, if you’re sure,” he manages, and Keith’s entire face lights up.

Keith, beaming, adjusts his glasses in a way Eugene suspects is mostly just a way to avoid eye contact. “Oh my god, awesome. Thank you so much, dude. No one else was up for it.”

Eugene laughs. “Does that mean I wasn’t your first choice for token hot guy?”

Keith shoves his shoulder. “For hot guy? Definitely. But if Zach hadn’t just gotten that stupid smiley face tattoo on his ass, I don’t know who I would have gotten to do this with us.”

Eugene narrows his eyes. “Hang on, does that mean it’s just the three of us? Ned helped think of all this and he’s not going to be in the video?”

It’s Keith’s turn to blink. “He’s a manager,” he says.

Eugene raises an eyebrow. “And I’m a director. And I’m pretty sure Zach’s not a front of camera guy either.”

“Yeah but Zach’s got that tattoo we thought would be funny, and you’re… the hot one, so…” Keith is hedging, but there are gears turning in his head.

Eugene raises his arm for a waiter and orders another drink. He was supposed to be heading home, working on finishing touches for his shoot tomorrow, but it all feels academic right now, because Ned Fulmer is trying to get out of some shit, and. “No. No, no, no. There’s nothing funnier than a guy who doesn’t want to be there. We’re getting Fulmer in on this.”

Keith looks overjoyed. “You’re right. You’re so right. Shit, Eugene, I told you you were funny!”

MONDAY MORNING

Ned is squawking excuses as Keith walks him in, his face contorted into an expression of horror Eugene has only seen on him when someone pulls some really stupid shit on social media and he has to clean up the mess.

“…and so you’ll be our straight man! It’ll be so funny! Come on, buddy, it’s for the video! For the company. For Facebook.” Keith is keeping up a constant stream of half-sincere encouragement, his hands gripping Ned’s shoulders just tight enough that Ned can’t get away.

Eugene looks up from helping Zach string up a cloth across the frame to flash Ned his toothiest grin. “Hey, Ned! Glad you decided to join us!”

“Eugene…” Ned says, appeasing. Eugene’s grin doesn’t falter. “I swear, I didn’t know they were going to rope you into this. Are you really doing this? Do we really have to do this?”

“I don’t know, Ned, it looks like we really do,” Eugene says, playing off of Keith’s smooth quasi-professionalism. Ned looks pale. Eugene probably gets more of a kick out of stressing him out than is strictly healthy for his career.

Zach waves a hand from behind Eugene. “We’ve got a sheet up to protect your modesty, you don’t have to freak out. But I couldn’t exactly put a casting call out for this, and no one else we asked was up for it, so as one of the masterminds of this whole thing we decided you’ve got a responsibility.”

“A responsibility to put on lacy underwear for the internet! Exactly.” Keith echoes with a grin.

Ned is floundering too much to say anything to that. He sits down heavily in a chair behind the camera and lets his head drop into his hands. “…alright. Are we ready to roll?”

Zach steps into place behind the camera and nods. “Positions?” he asks.

Eugene walks round behind the cloth and shucks off his jeans, tosses them out of shot.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Okay. You guys are such dicks. Okay," Ned raises his hands and claps them together. "Action!”

[exceedinglyregular]

6.

The sixth (and penultimate) chapter of Let Me Spell It Out For You is up!

--- 

(For The BuzzFeed Creations Challenge - @thebuzzfeedchallenge)

Partner: @mercury-skies

Pairings: Ryan/Andrew, Shane/Ryan

Tags: Accidental Relationship, Magic, Love Spells, Cussing, Angst

[kayarenwick]

made a companion moodboard to my fic from last night, What Happens at Housewarming Parties, just for funsies XD

[ollyoctopus]

Shane Madej got engaged in a fancy restaurant with a fancy ring to his fancy boyfriend and he showed up in a pumpkin suit. Ryan is (probably) going to murder his brand new fiancé. @thebuzzfeedchallenge

Prompt: Pumpkin

Partner: @ruimteschip