Toss it.

Summary: Bo hears screaming from the house next to him, and turns out, the girl is scared of a spider.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None.

———————————————-

Bo’s pvo-

“This stupid shoe string.” I muttered to myself as I tried to finish tying my shoes. Why am I having trouble tying my shoes? Because I’m nervous about a date. Why am I going on a date? Good question. Well, about a week ago, I was just minding my own business. All I was doing, was sitting on the couch, watching tv. And then all of a sudden, I hear this loud scream! Like, someone was getting murder. So, you know what- let me just take you back to that day I met my probably future wife, Y/N. Here we go.

-One week ago-

“Dora! The candy island is right behind you! God! It’s not like it’s on the other side of the world!” I screamed at the tv. I lost my remote, so I’m stuck watching Dora the Explorer. Why don’t I just get up and change the channel from the tv? Because laziness, my friend.

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

“What the-” I said to myself as I stood up from the couch. I knew where that sound came from, it came from Y/N. Her and I have seen each other around here and there. Like, when we go get the mail, or she needs help with her groceries, and stuff along those lines. We only say hi and bye to each other, but damn, there would be nothing I would love more than to get to know her.

I quickly slipped on my shoes, and ran out the door. Considering we lived next to one another, it wasn’t that long till I got to her house. I knocked on her door, and after about 30 seconds of her muttering curse words under her breath, and the sound of her stomping her foot, she opened the door. And dang, she looked beautiful. Even with no makeup on, her hair up in a bun, and her sweats on, she still was amazingly amazing.

“Yeah, Bo?” She asked, obviously out of breath. “Are you okay, Y/N? I heard you scream.” I said with a light chuckle, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my pajama bottoms. “You heard that from all the way over here?” She asked, a slightly confused, but adorable, look on her face. “Thin walls.” I replied, rocking back and forth on my hills.

She just nodded her head, “Very true. Well, there is this spider in here and I hate spiders more than anything.” She said, licking her lips. “Would you like some help?” I asked with a light chuckle, raising my eyebrow up at her. “That would be amazing.” She replied, opening her door wider for me to come in.

-Fast forward to about 20 minutes-

“The spider was right there just a second ago!” She screamed, stomping her feet. I laughed as I held a can of her hairspray in my hand. “I’m going to kill it with this.” I said, shaking the can. She just looked at me with a dumbfounded look on her face. “Ah, yes, Bo. You won’t kill it with that, but it’s hair will be fabulous!” She said, beginning to laugh.

“Do you have a better idea?!” I said, looking at her with a wide smile on my face. “Well, I have batarangs upstairs.” She said with a nod, trying her best to not laugh. I just shook my head at her, and begin to look around her living room with something to kill it with. And then, something caught my eye.

“What is this?” I asked with a light smirk playing on my lips. I was holding up my book of poetry, Egghead. She just looked at me with wide eyes, and took a couple of steps back. “Uh, totally not your book.” She said, trying to play it cool. “Suuuure.” I said, letting out a laugh. “BO! BEHIND YOU!” She screamed, pointing at the direction of the spider. I turned around, and boom! There was the spider, on the wall. Without thinking, I killed the spider. Not with the hairspray, but with the back of my book. “Well, now you can change the name of your book to spiderhead.” She said, chuckling. “Whoops?” I said, chuckling along with her.

Summary: You and Bo meet at a carnival, and ya’ll soon become very good friends, at least, that’s what you think.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Just some curse words. ———————————————-

“Y/N, let’s go!” Your best friend, Alycia, screamed at you. You and her were going to go to a carnival, which only came around once a year. “Give me a damn second!” You screamed back at her. You could here her sigh downstairs, which caused you to chuckle. Alycia had just broken up with her boyfriend, so she wanted to go scope out the singles. You and her had been best friends for quiet sometime. Both of you lived together in your ole’ Boston apartment. As you quickly finished getting dressed, you rushed down the stairs, almost tripping like usual. “Let’s go get some action!” She said in a loud tone as she grabbed the car keys, and ran out the door. You just laughed at her stupidity, grabbed your jacket, and ran out the door along with your boy-crazed bestie.

what is this?: a bo burnham imagine summary: you’re both summer camp counselors, and the entire camp ships you words: 1433 triggers: none except for cuteness 

“Do you think I’ll drown?”

“Unlikely. Creeks aren’t that big.”

“What if I get malaria from the mosquitos?”

“Easy, natural selection.”

“Bo!”

“What? It’s true.”

You rolled your eyes and lean on his shoulder, or rather, his upper arm. If only he would just shrink a few inches. You’re on the rickety bus to Camp Victory, not as campers but as senior counselors. You both needed the service hours and, anyway,  it’s not like either of you would really have been doing anything else over the summer, unless you count the vicious Mario Kart tournaments that almost always ends with Bo threatening a breakup. You know Bo’s going to be great at this whole counselor thing, because he’s essentially a kid himself— when he’s not writing satire about religion, at least. But as for you… kids aren’t exactly your forte, and here you are about to deal with a whole cabin full of them.

You feel Bo shift a bit under you. “Hey, lay off. I thought we weren’t doing PDA for… three weeks? Three weeks.”

“Oh, relax, you big baby,” you say, closing your eyes. “We’re not there yet.” You’d insisted on this stipulation before you left, much to your boyfriend’s dismay. You figured making out in front of a bunch of kids wasn’t exactly the best way to show the face of responsibility.

“In that case, I think I should be able to get another kiss before this dumb dry spell you’re forcing on me.”

You don’t say anything at first; you only tilt your head back stick your lips out in your worst duck-face impression. “Come and get it.”

You can feel his smile when he kisses you, the edge of his glasses gently pushing in to your cheek. You’re the one who pulls away though, and when Bo tries to come back for more you push a finger against his lips.

“Three weeks,” you say.

“Three weeks.”

 ———————————————————————

 You decide that, upon arrival, Camp Victory was originally built for munchkins. There are two facing rows of small cabins, twelve in all, odd numbers on one side, even on the other. Each is crammed with four bunk beds but no utilities—- just two small dressers with drawers, some shelves, and eight coat hooks. Bo was seriously going to have some bruises on him the first few days. You’d read on the website that it was owned by a church, which donated the camp to the county’s social services for three weeks each summer for summer camp. It was run on a shoestring, and you didn’t expect more than the basics. The basics were all you got.

You and Bo are split from the second you get off the bus; boys get the odd-numbered cabins, and girls, the even ones. Senior counselors, you found out, were to be in charge of seven kids each, ages seven to ten. Every cabin was supposed to choose a name for itself— your girls pick Werewolves, which should have told you something right there.

After everyone gets their stuff settled in the cabins and sleeping assignments are arranged, everything happens at top-speed. Mr. Harrigan, the camp director, hands all the counselors clipboards with their kids’ names and that cabin’s schedule for the day. It seems that Mr. Harrigan doesn’t want to waste one second of the long summer hours, and the rest of your day is filled with baseball, volleyball, canoeing, and hiking. You have to keep mentally counting your girls to make sure none of them have run off.  

The next time you see Bo is when you pass him and his boys during an activity switch. “Hey, Bo,” you say, nudging him with your hip. “What name did you get yourselves? I’ve got the Werewolves.”

“Buzzards,” he replies, tucking his clipboard under his arm. “AKA, the best name.” He doesn’t get to say more, because one of his boys quickly runs up and grabs his arm.

“Bo, c’mon! The canoe race is gonna start any minute!”

Bo raises his eyebrows at you, the corners of his lips twitching up as he allows the boy to lead him away. You can’t help but stand and smile after them, and it’s not long before one of your own girls tugs your shirt.

You and the rest of the Werewolves spend the quiet hour after dinner not-so-quiet at all, working out whose stuff is left everywhere and whose shoes are stinking up the place. You’re about to collapse into a twenty minute nap when one of them— Abigail, you think her name is— says something that gets your attention.

“You know, I bet [Y/N] likes that tall counselor.” Giggling ripples through the little wooden cabin. Abigail’s voice gets all sing-songy then. “Doooo you, [Y/N]? Huh? Dooooo you?”

You shrug. “Maybe,” you say, knowing your vagueness will drive them bananas. It does, and they shriek with laughter.

“What would you do if we told him?” Another girl. Her name’s… what? Jessie?

You laugh. “Oh, I’d hang you by your little toenails, girl-baby.” More laughter, because they don’t need to know you’re actually dating that cute tall counselor just yet.

They also don’t need to know that he holds your hand under the blanket at the campfire that night.

————————————————————————–

The weeks slip by, and before you know it you’re constantly covered in angry mosquito bites, sweat, and occasional lake water. Bo’s not faring too well, either; the Buzzards and Werewolves had crafts together one day, and Bo just couldn’t stop scratching.

“Stop it!” you say, slapping his hand down when you see it move up to his arm. “Scratching it only makes it worse.”

“Oh, come onnnnn, [Y/N]! I think I might actually be dying.”

“Pft, drama queen.”  

You notice that Bo’s boys are looking at the both of you in a really weird way, and when you catch them a smatter of giggling breaks out, followed by a bunch of whispers. You raise your eyebrows pointedly at your boyfriend, which clearly asks: Motherfucker, did you tell a bunch of fourth graders we were dating?

“I didn’t say anything,” Bo says quickly, raising his hands up in a quick surrender, but your eyebrows only get higher.

“Why. Are. They. Looking at us like that?…”

“Relax. Robbie 2000 has got it all under control.”

You hit him with your clipboard when he says that stupid nickname from high school, but your question still isn’t really answered.

But does he answer your question on the last night of camp. Oh, yes, he does.

The last campfire goes like the usual ones— he sits by you and everyone sings all the traditional campfire songs and some ghost stories go around. But when the hour’s up and you start to stand to get back to your cabin, Bo pulls you back down. “You’ll wanna see this,” he whispers before he gets up. The chatter dies down and you see that the boys in his cabin are looking particularly eager.

“Alright, so… quick little thing before you guys all go… a few days ago two of my boys— Andy and Finn, I’m lookin’ at you— got into this huge argument over whose shoes were laying in the doorway to our cabin.  So, being the responsible, peacemaking counselor I am, I gave them some options: one, they work this out themselves, but they don’t have to be friends. Two, they work it out and become friends. Three—“

“Bo kisses that girl he’s always with!” one of his boys blurts, and the rest of the camp shrieks with laughter and surprised yells. A huge smile splits your face and you struggle to push it off, trying to appear as disgusted as the other girl campers were. You were, after all, the face of responsibility…

“Now,” Bo says once the noise has died down. “I have asked Mr. Harrigan if it’s alright if some PG-13 stuff is shown tonight, and he has agreed, so, props to Mr. Harrigan—“ gesture to the director, who’s positively red with laughter at what’s unfolding before him.

“And so, [Y/N],” Bo says, pulling you up to your feet, “Would you do me a favor and kiss me on this fine night under the stars?”

Now you can’t fight the huge smile on your face that’s probably making you blush like a schoolgirl, and you’re thankful for the semi-darkness that’s coating you.

“You want to see me kiss this lovely boy?” you ask the circle of campers around the fire. There’s cheers all around before you turn back to face your boyfriend.

“Three weeks,” you shake your head.

what is this?: a bo burnham imagine summary: um… there isn’t really one?? it’s sorta just like… thinking back to the times when you were always there for him but you were always overlooked, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it felt to be adored by him… words: 840 triggers: none  inspired by this song! 

————————-how does it feel to be adored by him?———————--

The first time the question visits you, it’s when you’re catching up with your best friend from high school over frozen yogurt. You both went to different colleges, and you hadn’t seen her much in the past few months. You’re laughing over a stupid Tweet you’re showing her when her own phone buzzes, and you can tell who it is from the way her eyes light up. 

“It’s Bo. Gotta take this,” she says, hopping off her stool. “Hey, baby!…No, nothing much, just out with a friend…” her voice fades away as she heads outside in search of a better signal. You twirl your phone in your hands, the sound it makes as each side hits the counter reminding you a little of how your heart feels: thunk. thunk. thunk.

You’ve known Bo since you started at the same college last year, and he’d filled the gaping hole in your life called Best Friend. If you were stressed about an upcoming exam or project deadline, he was the first to be there with his seemingly infinite supply of Pop Tarts and stupid puns about your professor. When your boyfriend for all of three months dumped you last semester, Bo was there to listen to you rant and rave and cry, repeat. Bo doesn’t even have to speak; sometimes just his company is enough, just knowing that he’s nearby when you both study silently for your majors in his dorm or yours. 

But then you’d introduced Bo to your other best friend, and now… things are different. You’re seeing him less and less, and you didn’t even know that he was planning on dropping out of college until another one of your mutual friends told you. It saddens you that there are parts of his life that you no longer no about, when you used to know… everything. 

You’re happy for your two friends, that they’ve found happiness in each other, but at the same time you find that there’s a hollow ache in you, right where your diaphragm is. He never looks at you the way he does her, never smiles at you like you’re some marvel of Greek marble. He never lets his lips graze your hairline when you hug him, or anywhere else, for that matter. 

And you can’t help but want him to. 

————————-how does it feel to be adored by him?———————--

The next time the question rears its ugly head, it’s a few years later. You’ve graduated, Bo’s dropped out, and who knows what your friend is up to. You lost contact with her after she quietly ended things with him a few months after that frozen yogurt date. But you think that you’re the real winner here, because now Bo’s career is finally taking off and you’re spending more and more weekends at his house, helping him with his new material. Usually, he’ll come up with the joke, and you’ll try to help find a way to make it fit into a song. This usually spawns several hours of hysterical, stomach-aching laughter as you try to think of words that rhyme with ‘orange,’ or watch Bo try to think of puns about God. 

But you like it. You find that messing with words with your best friend for a while calms you down, brings things back into perspective. And you can’t help but notice the way that Bo almost lovingly looks at his keyboard, the same one he’s used in his old high school videos, the same one that must’ve traveled thousands of miles with him across the country. He holds it close to his heart, probably closer than anyone’s ever been to him. You find it a little unnerving that you’re jealous of a keyboard—- an object—- but as you watch his fingers dance along the keys and his foot jiggle in time to the music you can’t help but smile at that lucky little keyboard, the one that gets to have Bo’s heart and soul written all over it. 

————————-how does it feel to be adored by him?———————--The last time the question comes to you, it’s 2:43 A.M. For some reason, you’ve slipped up to the surface of sleep, the kind of barely-there conciousness you save for early mornings before work. 

He’s next to you, clad in his Rubik’s Cube shirt and some boxers with lightning bolts you got him for Valentine’s this year. In the moonlight, you see his eyes are closed, his chest regular with his deep, even breathing. You gaze at him for a few moments, drinking him in, his tiny sighs and twitches. Then you scootch closer to him, pulling the duvet back up over his shoulder before pressing a kiss to his cheek, the cheek you’ve been entitled to since your college days. 

Sleep’s almost got a hold of you again when you finally come up with an answer to the question that’s been plaguing you for the past five years. 

so when Bo came out he was wearing a sweater and pretty early into the show he decided to take it off, and when he did a guy in the front shouted “toss it” and Bo was at first just like wtf but then he was like “ok you want me to toss it?????” and then he just threw the sweater towards the back of the stage lmao

but then he went into this whole improvised rant asking the guy if that’s how he goes about his life. just asking for people to toss things he hasn’t earned. like if he shows up to a job interview and he’s just like “i know i have no credentials but why don’t you just… toss it.” Walks up to a girl way out of his league and is just like “hey. [head nod] toss it.” I don’t remember all of it but he finished up with “boy you’re gonna love salad bars” and it was so funny Ok

Anonymous said: “Can you do a one-shot where you are Bo’s best friend and his girlfriend dumps him in like the middle of the night so naturally he ends up at your house and platonic cuddles turn into something more? ;)))))”

Of course I can. With this one, I think I am going to do like vague smut kind of like I did with the George Weasley one. I am terrible at doing outright smut to be honest.

This is actually my favorite Bo imagine I’ve done so far.

//

Title: Miles Behind Us

Character/Celebrity: Bo Burnham

Word Count: 1058

Rating: T-M

Warnings: brief sexual content/language/I may have made this very very dramatic tbh

//

It was around two in the morning when Bo texted you.

Of course you were still awake, watching Daredevil on Netflix and eating Poptarts. This was what you were normally doing on a Thursday night now that you’d dropped out of college and gotten your own place.

When your text tone went off (the punchline of one of Bo’s jokes; he’d convinced you to be the first to download it when it had been released), you groggily reached for your phone, yawning as you paused your show to read it.

text from ‘bo’

received: 2:06am

subject: none

hey i’m coming over don’t ask any questions

be there in five

-b

You groaned and dragged a hand down your face. Bo was always coming over at ungodly hours of the night to complain about his latest girlfriend who had quite the habit of being a bitch.

You didn’t even bother to respond since he had told you to not ask any questions, instead settling on raiding your fridge for alcohol. You pulled out your bottle of raspberry vodka and found Bo’s favorite whiskey in the cabinet next to you. These were the drinks you two had a tendency to down irresponsibly whenever either of you had a problem.

//

Bo was right. The doorbell rang at exactly 2:11am and you answered it, inviting him in. He was really upset this time; a different kind of upset than the kind he normally was.

Still, you waited your normal ten minutes before asking what was wrong.

2:21am.

“What did she do this time?” you asked. He shrugged and you knew it was something pretty bad. He held out his now-empty glass and you poured him more whiskey. He downed it in one gulp and you knew it was time to put the alcohol away.

It was another twelve minutes before Bo said anything to indicate what was wrong.

2:33am.

“(y/n), do you think I’m enough?” he asked. The two of you had migrated to your bedroom. He was laying back against your pillows, an arm over his face and you were watching the TV; it was turned on, but there wasn’t anything actually playing. You scooted back so that you were closer to him, and lay down next to him on your side.

“What?”

“Am I enough?” he asked. “Funny enough, smart enough, good enough?” You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment, debating how to answer this question. You knew for a fact that Bo was good enough, but you wanted to know why he’d asked.

“Does this have to do with Lexi?” you asked. He shrugged.

“Just answer the question.”

“Just answer mine.”

“I asked you first.” You groaned because your best friend was an absolute child.

“Of course you’re good enough, Bo.” you said, “In all of the categories that exist. You’re funny, smart, attractive, caring… You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

“Attractive?” he asked peeking at you from behind his arm. You rolled your eyes.

“That’s the one that resonated with you?” you asked, because he could not be serious right now. Bo turned over as well, looking at you.

“I’m only joking.” He said. You smiled because of course you already knew that. Then his arms were open and you were in them, your head on his chest.

2:37am.

“What happened, Bo?”

“Hmm?”

In the two minutes since you’d last spoken, it appeared Bo had begun to fall asleep. His chest was rising and falling slowly now, lazily.

“Lexi.” you explained, “What did she do?” His sigh vibrated in every cell of your body.

“She cheated on me, (y/n).” He told you. He didn’t sound upset, he just sounded calm. You closed your eyes and let out a breath. You’d kind of suspected this when he’d asked if he was good enough.

“Oh, Bo.” you said because you didn’t think there was anything you could say to make this better.

He never responded, only held you tighter to him. You turned away from him and allowed him to pull you against his body. You felt his chest expand into your back as his breathing slowed once more.

3:02am.

It was about twenty minutes later when you felt his lips on your shoulder. You tried to keep your eyes shut, pretend you were asleep. But both of you knew you were not.

Still, you didn’t stop him.

Of course you had always been attracted to him. The fact that you had known him for years didn’t change the way your eyes worked.

“(y/n) look at me.” You did as you were told, turning over to face him once more. His eyes weren’t dark, they weren’t harsh, they weren’t foreign. This was your Bo. The one you loved. The one who needed you.

When his lips met yours, the world disappeared.

You forgot that you hadn’t had sleep in almost two days now. You forgot that he had just been dumped and this was probably desperation to be close to someone. You forgot all of that because the way his lips moved against yours felt too real to be faked.

His hands roamed your sides, the bare skin at your hip set on fire from his touch. He reached behind your head to undo the claw hair clip from your long hair.

“I always liked your hair better down.” He answered your unasked question.

You put a hand on his arm. No words passed your lips, but you knew he knew.

There was a line and you two were getting close to it. If you crossed it, there was no going back; no taking this back.

“All you have to do is say no.” he whispered, knowing the thoughts in your head better than you did.

But you couldn’t say no, wouldn’t say no. Not with his mouth on your jaw and his fingers in your hair.

And you gave in.

You allowed yourself to become lost in him.

Your bodies were fires you were helpless to put out. You gave him everything, more than willingly, until you had nothing left to give. There was something magical in the way that you felt no remorse, no guilt, as he took it all from you.

The line hadn’t just been crossed, it was miles behind you.

//

Bo Burnham trying to get drunk Brian off stage. Larry, the security guy, wasn’t doing his job.