#I’m not familiar with the other languages’ streamer friends so I can’t comment on them

[azuriteknight]

I think it’s really cute that a lot of the qsmp members’ friends have also gotten attached to the eggs

Some of the eggs have off the server family they got to meet over call (Skeppy meeting Dapper and Tommy meeting Tallulah)

Gumi calling Bad asking him to tell Dapper she says hi and Sam resubbing to Bad asking the same (also threatening to never resub if Bad didn’t lol)

Tina always hearing about Foolish and Leo’s adventures on the qsmp that day when she and Foolish play Valorant and Moo (Foolish’s IRL sister) calling herself Leo’s aunt

Idk it’s just kinda sweet, something about these eggs just makes people attached

[anthropologicalhands]

Capernoited

to be slightly intoxicated or tipsy

The party is bright and loud and almost too much forNathaniel, though given that he stepped off a six-hour flight less than eighthours ago, he feels that his exhaustion isn’t unreasonable.

But, to Darryl’s credit, the party is fairly tame by hisusual standards — there are only two colors of streamers, and no one has even triedto put a funny hat on him. That might also be because, for whatever reason, theparty is being hosted at Heather and Hector’s condo, and Nathaniel isreasonably certain that Heather would enjoy seeing him out of his element. Butall she does, after the initial cheering and hellos, is give him a long, amusedglance, a pat on the arm, and a comment about being impressed that he didn’tmanage to die of some exotic disease before wandering away.

He would definitely bet that Heather was the one to remembernot to make every snack offering made of starch, and there are several goodfruit and vegetable platters among the spread. He does smile at the pretzelslaid out in a vague Guatemala-esque configuration, and even picks out a plainone for later consumption.

The pretzel-maker herself is in attendance, of course -she’d sprung out of the crowd and caught him in an unfortunately brief butenthusiastic hug earlier in the evening, with her arms up and over hisshoulders, going up on tiptoe to extend her reach. But then he’d been drawnaway by Whijo and Vic, and she had bounced over to another cluster in the room.Apart from a small pang, he tries not to be too disappointed – everyone hasbeen busy with their lives and are trying to catch up with each other as muchas with him. And it’s…nice, to be considered a part of this group, no matterhow weird, and realize that he fits here as well as anyone.

Naturally, there is also alcohol, and by ten in the evening mostof the guests are at least tipsy. Nathaniel is only a little buzzed, but enoughto duck around AJ and Maya’s spirited debate on Gone Girl’s feminism inorder to sneak out to the porch. It’s still a warm night, but it isn’t humid,and he enjoys the open, dry air after the pressing clamor of the bodies andconversations inside.

That, naturally enough, is when Rebecca pounces.

He doesn’t even see her coming – she barrels into him justout of his sightline, wrapping her arms snugly around his waist, and when hetwists to look down at her, he finds her grinning up at him like she’s gettingaway with something.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he echoes right back, settling his arms carefullyaround her shoulders, and yes, she’s definitely going to get away withsomething, if such a simple exchange makes him feel that sudden, inexplicablefondness for her again, as sturdy as if he had never left at all. Not tomention how completely her gaze catches him, field of vision both expanding tomap every detail and contracting so that there is nothing else in his focus buther.

“I never gave you a proper hello, did I?” she says lowly,eyes fluttering half-closed.

In another time, that would have definitely been aninnuendo. Truthfully, Nathaniel wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what she’strying to go for right now, but her careless tone is too open for it to beanything serious.

“Oh?” he plays along, leaning down towards her, like theyare sharing a secret; moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked with hers sothat he won’t look at her lips by mistake. “What counts as a properhello?”

She giggles and goes up on her toes, pushing her facedangerously close to his. 

“Hel-lo,” she sings, right in his ear, and dissolves intolaughter. Nathaniel winces but laughs, jerking away with a playful frown. She’sclose enough that he catches the scent of something sharp and fruity on herbreath.

Ah, that explains the demonstrativeness.

“How’s the bar tonight?”

Rebecca’s nose wrinkles in distaste.  “Eh. I’ve onlyhad, like, a drink and a half.”

“What happened to the other half?”

She scrunches up her face. “It might have been tippeddown the sink.”

“No good?”

“It was disgusting,” she assures him, all seriousness. 

“Blame the bartender.”

“Can’t,” she mumbles, eyes drifting closed. “She just tellsme to order better next time.” 

She leans into him, and he shifts his hold to keep herupright, trying not to think about the familiar weight of her in his arms.

“Uh-huh. Come on, let’s get you sitting down.”

Gently, Nathaniel guides her to the porch seat, and sitsdown beside her. She lets him but catches his hands in hers when he tries to drawaway, give her space. He looks down at their entwined fingers and tamps downhard on the tendril of hope that tries to worm its way out of his generalaffectionate feelings for her. It’s ridiculous; barely twelve hours officiallyback in the States and he’s nearly lost again.

He waits for her to let go, but she doesn’t, releasing hishands only to twine her arms around him again in a surprisingly strong grip.

“A drink and a half is less than three,” she begins, afamiliar kind of non-sequitur.

“That is how math usually works, yes,” agrees Nathaniel,teasing, trying not to smile too broadly. He’s forgotten how easy it is to justlook at her and just feel happy, a feeling that never seemed to have anycorrelation to whether they were together or not.

Rebecca rolls her eyes at him, still smiling. “What Imean is that I’m a little tipsy. A little loose. But I am, distinctly, notinebriated.”

“Okay.”

“So what I’m about to say right now can be taken quiteseriously,” she insists, eyes wide and eyebrows angling sharply down.

“All right,” he agrees, because Rebecca clearly has a goalin mind, everything about her face and body language and tone radiating pureintent, and the best thing he can do right now is listen to what she has tosay, and not presume anything. Rebecca gives a tiny nod, apparently satisfied.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know,” he says, and means it in earnest. She hasn’t saidit in so few words, but he’s known. Every time she sent him a message, or anarticle warning him about caimans. When he came back last year for Valentine’sDay and she said in public that she was in awe of him and later, in private, repeatedthe sentiment, and then asked why he couldn’t have gone somewhere that was lessof a schlep to be in awe of.

(He didn’t read too much into it, he knows better than thatnow, but those words have definitely lingered in the back of his mind, thislast year.)

“I missed you too,” he returns, because she is clearlywaiting for a response. “I’m glad to be back. Tired, but glad.”

Rebecca screws up her face in exaggerated empathy, promptinglaughter.

“I told Darryl to wait at least a day,” she says,utterly long-suffering. “But there’s only so much you can do once he hashis mind on a party. But I don’t want to talk about Darryl to you.”

“Oh?”

“No. I wanted to tell you I missed you.”

“You just did,” he teases, trying to play it light, despitehow his pulse hammers as her arms tighten around him, as if determined not tolet him slip away.

(As if he would ever want to.)

Her mouth firms up. “Well, yeah, but no.”

“No?”

“That’s not all I wanted to say,” she says, impatiently,like he’s the one not making sense. “I wanted to say that I miss you and Ithink about you right about…here,” she gestures around the space above her headvaguely. “And here.”

She taps her breastbone, and it feels like she has reachedbetween them, instead, the sharp give and tightening of his heart that hasnothing (and everything) to do with her grip on him.

“Oh?” he says, trying to be light, reminding himself thatnot-quite-drunk still isn’t sober, even if her eyes are clear and fiercewith that Rebecca Bunch determination. “It’s like that, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” says Rebecca, popping her eyes wide, thenlaughing, bright and quick, that reassures him that she isn’t entirely too-fargone. When she blinks up at him again, her gaze is steady. “You have no idea. Itsucked, missing you. You’re so tall, it’s always obvious that you’re missing. Like,in all the group photos. And I know that you were living your best life andeverything in the jungle, but I just wanna say that I’m really, really gladthat you figured out that your best life isn’t like, only possible in thejungle.”

“It was never going to be only in the jungle,” saysNathaniel, amused that she would ever think he could stay away for such anextended time. “I told you I was going to come back. Multiple times.”

For the first time since they’ve started talking, Rebeccalooks away from him, her intensity softening into something he might almostcall uncertainty.

“I know,” she says softly. “You did. And you always do. Ijust needed to have you physically next to me, you know?”

“I know. You’re actually cutting off my circulation.”

“Oops.” Guiltily, she loosens her arms and he can breathe alittle easier, even if his pulse is still hammering in his ears. “Sorry. But,listen, but we need to address this—this thing, between us.” She flaps ahand between them, smacking him hard in the chest and making him wince. “Thatthing we keep sending pictures and text messages and emojis around.”

Nathaniel would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting thisturn. But he’d have thought (foolishly, he can see that now) that Rebecca wouldgive him a few days to settle back down before bringing up the ‘where do westand’ conversation. She turned him down, he left the country, and while theircorrespondence was always normal between friends, they never actually did aproper post-mortem on their relationship.

“Right.” He shouldn’t ask, he shouldn’t ask, for the samereasons why they are not going to talk to each other right now, but he has toat least try to be prepared. “The kind of talk you had with Greg and Josh? Aclean break, clean slate kind of thing?”

These are not questions he wants to ask. But if there’ssomething he’s learned these last three years, it’s that if it is a hardquestion to answer, it’s worth trying.

Rebecca looks up at him, eyes glimmering from the faintillumination cast by the porch light fixture.

“Not the exact same talk,” she says, but not as fastas she normally does – she goes slowly, carefully enunciating, and while thereis still a shakiness to the sounds, it is a Rebecca who is clearly within hercapabilities. “I don’t think you can get a cleaner break than continental lines.”

“True, but that didn’t stop us from talking about otherthings.”

“And I don’t think that was a bad thing. I really likedtalking to you these past two years, Nathaniel. But, I think, since we arefinally going to be inhabiting the same town again, we just need to figure outsomething…sensible. A lot of things have changed around here, not just me.”

“I know,” says Nathaniel.

“And honestly…it’s a talk, not the talk. Justto clear the air about where we wanna go with this as-of-yet-unspoken thing.It can always be revisited and…expanded, as need be.”

“Right.”

“And it’s…gonna be a lot, not gonna lie. But some things youjust have to talk through. A lot of talking. And, also unfortunately speaking fromexperience here, there might also be crying. Lots of crying.”

“I don’t cry that much,” Nathaniel’s protest is automatic,even if he can’t quite help but laugh, knowing that it’s not true (whatever, hecan at least try to deny it). His laugh is a little too loud, has been sincehe’s started spending the majority of his time not thinking of his father, butRebecca responds like she’s been waiting for that sound, like it’s somethingshe wants to hear again.

“Uh huh,” she hums, looking at him, amused. “Don’t try to thinkyou can fool me. You’re a crier.”

“I just don’t remember it that way,” says Nathaniel, affectinghis most haughtiest manner, well aware that he’s already lost if he’s fallingback on that one.

“Give it up. Paula told on you. And Darryl. And Heather—”

“Okay, you’ve made your point,” says Nathaniel withexaggerated exasperation, because he’s better at acknowledging his emotions butthat doesn’t mean he has lost all of his secondhand embarrassment. “And you’reright. Crying or not, we should talk.”

Rebecca smiles again at him and nuzzles into his shoulderand the crook of his neck. Cautiously, he tilts his head so that it restsagainst hers.

They sit like that for a while, listening to the murmur ofvoices just inside.

“This is nice,” Rebecca murmurs into the fabric of hisshirt.

“Yeah,” agrees Nathaniel. “But if we don’t get inside soon,I’m just going to fall asleep out here and wake up with a crick in my neck. Andyou won’t be that much better off.”

“Yeah. That’s a shame,” says Rebecca around a yawn. “Ithought we could try the hot tub.”

“Afraid not. I don’t have my swimsuit.”

Rebecca waggles her eyebrows at him, a spark of old mischiefin her eyes. “Who says you need one?”

Nathaniel grimaces. “Gross.”

“Or, is it sexy?”

“No way. It’s unsanitary, and Heather would actually kill me.Or, even worse, make me unclog it.”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

“You’re right: she’d just kill me.”

“Not if I asked her not to.”

 “Not sure I wannatake that risk.”

She pouts fiercely up at him, and he grins.

“Fine,” agrees Rebecca begrudgingly. “Too bad. I definitelythought about you many a time in that hot tub.”

Last year, that would have been enough to make Nathanielcompletely lose his composure, but not now. As it is, he can feel his earsburning, and he’s not blushing, he’s not, but it’s a close thing.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” says Nathaniel, helpingher stand so they can go back inside. Rebecca snickers.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

It’s good to be back.

[ladyshandioftheendless]

~KISS AU writings 8~

THIS ONE HAS BEEN A LONG TIME COMING!! There’s apparently been a lot of anticipation for it too so here we go!! 

~Shandi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~EXOTIC DANCER AU~

Featured Pairing: Bruce Kulick/Paul Stanley

Special Guests: Gene Simmons, Eric Carr, Ace Frehley, Peter Criss, Vinnie Vincent

Summary: Bruce’s friends take him to a gentleman’s club for his birthday. He falls hard for one of the dancers..and things go off the rails~ (told from Bruce’s POV)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SURPRISE!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRUCE!!

I laugh as I’m showered with confetti as soon as I come through my door. Eric comes up and straps a party hat to my head. This was totally unexpected! I bet they’d been planning this for weeks! They guide me to my kitchen where there’s a huge pizza and a beautiful birthday cake waiting on the table. The living room is decorated with balloons, streamers, colorful plates and napkins. I can’t believe they did all of this for me! I’m not going to cry! 

Ace goes into my fridge and pulls out a big case of beer. “Can’t have a party without the party favors!” he said with his usual maniacal cackle. Gene shakes his head. “Just go easy on those cause we’ve got plans later. And if you get drunk I’m not taking you.” Plans? What’s he got in mind? Ace whines but eventually he agrees. These plans must be pretty damn great if it gets Ace to not drown himself in booze. I worry about him sometimes.. Eric distracts me by patting my back. “Cmon, birthday boy let’s get this party started!” 

We carry everything into the living room and set it all on the coffee table. Peter goes over to my tv to put in a movie. “I brought ‘the Godfather.’ It’s a great movie, you’re gonna love it!” Ohhhh, Peter and his love for gangster movies~ It’s a nice sentiment but I’m pretty sure nobody will pay attention except for me and him..and Eric. Cause he’s a nice guy like that~ Fortunately I was wrong. We all sat with our beers (Gene with his soda), and pizza with our eyes glued to the screen. I’d heard of this movie but I’d never actually seen it before. It was really good! Nothing gave Peter more joy than watching someone else enjoy the movies he enjoyed~ After the movie was over Eric went into the kitchen to grab a knife and candles. “It’s cake time!” After the candles were placed Ace took out his lighter to light them. They sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me loudly and obnoxiously..just like I expected. Bunch of idiots. But they’re my idiots~ I blow out all the candles in one breath and they applaud. Eric hands me the knife. “Birthday boy gets the first piece!” I can’t wait to dig into it. It’s all chocolate. I can smell it..and it’s wonderful~ I cut out five pieces and put them on our plates. We spend the next couple of hours enjoying our cake and joking with each other. This has been the best birthday I’ve had in years~

Gene looks at his watch and grins. “Alright, gentlemen it’s time to go~ We gotta get there before all the good seats are gone.” Ace is already up on his feet and ready to go which startles the hell out of me. “About damn time! Lead the way, Genie!” Gene sighed. “Change first. We brought extra clothes for a reason.” I blink. When he sees my confusion Gene pats my shoulder. “It’s a very nice place..so we have to dress nice. I suggest a suit jacket and slacks.” Sounds fancy. And expensive. Also the fact that Gene is perfectly fine with spending that much money on me is not helping my case for not trying to cry. “O-okay. I’ll find something to change into.” I go to my room while the others take turns changing in the bathroom. Going through my closet I find the gray suit I wore to my brother’s wedding. This is perfect! Hoping it still fits I try it on. To my absolute relief it does. Taking off the jacket I take out a nice white button up shirt. I thought about wearing a tie but I decide against it. I don’t think we need to go that formal. Once we’re all done dressing we gather in the front hall. Gene picks up his keys. “We can all go in my car. I’ve got room for everyone. Birthday boy has shotgun~” I feel so special~ With a smile I let everyone out the door and lock up. Looks like it’s going to be a pretty interesting night~

When we reach our destination I see a long line of people waiting to get into some kind of club. “Is that where we were going? There’s no way we’re getting in there!” Gene parked the car and turned off the engine. “Relax, Bruce. I told you I’ve got it covered. Trust me~” When he says things like that I can’t bring myself to question him. We all get out and head straight for the entrance. Once the bouncers spot us I start getting nervous. They look like they’re ready to beat the hell out of all of us. Calm as ever Gene just takes out his wallet, opens it up and shows it to them. “Good evening. We have a reservation.” One of the bouncers narrows his eyes and looks closer, makes an expression of recognition and pulls the door open. “Good evening, Mr. Simmons.” he says. “Gentlemen, welcome to the Firehouse.” Ace was cracking up and smacking Gene on the back. “They know you by name, Genie? How many times have ya been here~?” Gene just reached back to put his wallet away. “If you really must know I just happen to have a VIP membership to this place. With it I can pretty much get anyone I bring with me in here for free so I figured why not~?” I’m just at a loss for words. Not to mention relieved that he actually didn’t have to spend ridiculous amounts of money to get us in. A high class place like this cannot be cheap. “I..I dunno what to say, Gene..except thank you~” I can tell Peter’s already taking a liking to his surroundings. I’m guessing this is his kind of place~ Eric looked a bit nervous but tried to play it off. I think as long as we stay with him he won’t get too overwhelmed. 

Gene guides us to the main lounge. The stage was lined with neon lights shaped to look like fire. The dance pole was of course made to look like one you’d see at a firehouse. Clever~ When we take our seats a very good-looking man comes over dressed in a skimpy gold fireman’s costume. “Good evening, gentlemen~ I’m Vinnie and I’ll be your server tonight~ Can I get you anything~?”

“How about a tall glass of you, baby~?” Ace said, leaning back in his chair and cackling with Peter joining him. Those two, I swear~ Whenever they get together craziness follows. Vinnie just took it all in stride. I’m sure he’s heard those kinds of comments before. Many times. “I’ve got the time if you’ve got the money, handsome~” Ace’s eyes went wide. He definitely wasn’t expecting that response~ “Why don’t you tell me what you’re worth~?” We all turn to stare at him, except Peter who’s still laughing his ass off. “What? Heeey..Brucie shouldn’t be the only one gettin’ the special treatment~” Vinnie was clearly amused at Ace’s eagerness. “Well..let me at least take your drink orders first before we get down to business~” We all order drinks, except Gene who asks for water. “Be right back~” Vinnie turned on his gold stiletto heels and walked off towards the bar. “Do you actually have the money, Ace?” Gene asked, leaning forward. “The ‘company’ here isn’t cheap you know. Some of these beauties cost up to $10,000 for a night.” My jaw drops. “Seriously?! I wouldn’t mind having some fun either but not if it’s going to bankrupt me!” Ace just waved us off. “Will you relax, Genie? I got it covered! That Vinnie’s lookin’ mighty fine and I want a piece of that tonight~”

A few minutes later Vinnie comes back with our drinks and sets them on our table before going over to Ace. “So what would you like~? It’s $1,000 if you want a private dance and $5,000 if you want my company for the night~” Ace is grinning from ear to ear as he gets up and wraps his arm around Vinnie’s shoulders. “Think I’m gonna go with option B, sweet thing~ Let’s go have some fun, hah~?” I can’t believe he’s doing this! Neither can Eric. We both just gawk at them as they leave. Peter on the other hand is beside himself. “Knock ‘im dead!” he shouts, waving until they’re out of sight. Gene picks up his glass and takes a sip. “I guess he’s finding his own way home tonight.” Before I can even fathom what the hell just happened the lights went out. The flames around the stage glowed brighter and a spotlight shined down on the dance pole. Looked like the show was finally starting! As soon as the music began everybody was clapping and scrambling to get closer to the stage. Apparently this dancer was very popular. I recognize the song right away and I have myself a little laugh. At least now I’m familiar with one other person who actually liked Queen’s Hot Space album~ The dancer sashayed down the dimly lit part of the stage to the song’s intro. Guys were attempting to lean over to get a closer look but the ‘flames’ were a pretty damn sufficient deterrent. 

Body Language

Body Language

Grabbing the pole the dancer pulled himself into the spotlight and hooked his leg around the pole, swaying his hips back and forth to the rhythm. The crowd was going wild and now I could see why. Holy shit, that dancer was sexy! He sparkled from head to toe in a rhinestone studded black bodysuit (with a large majority of those rhinestones covering his crotch) cut incredibly low in the front to reveal his entire torso, complete with a black leather collar and belt, studded with rhinestones that shaped stars. He had thick, curly hair the went down his back and bangs that framed his face just perfectly. A face that was covered in white makeup with a black star over his right eye and bright red lips. Wow..I don’t think I’ve ever seen an exotic dancer go that far with their makeup. But it was fascinating and impossible for me to take my eyes away.

Give me your body

Just give me your body

He slowly spun around the pole a few times, I think just to get a better look at his audience, who were already clamoring for his attention and holding out money in hopes that he’d take it from them. It was quite a spectacle. He ignored them of course, just to tease them further. I could see the smirk on his face as he pulled himself to the pole again and started grinding his pelvis against it. 

Give me your body

Don’t talk

Body Language

He moved up and down the pole with his legs spread apart, gyrating his hips while his hair flew about with every movement of his head. Damn, it was hot. Glancing around at the others I could see that they were just as mesmerized. I never thought anyone could command that much attention on a pole without even removing a single piece of clothing. 

Body Language

Body Language

He threw his head back, and he looked so damn good with his lips parted like that. Like he was giving himself the ultimate pleasure. 

You got red lips

Damn right he did~ He turned his head to look out at the crowd, tracing his upper lip with his tongue.

Snakes in your eyes

He leaned his head forward and threw it back again, making his curls fly everywhere.

Long legs 

Great thighs

He grabbed the pole with both hands and raised his leg high in the air. Only then did I notice he was wearing rhinestone studded platform heeled boots. How is he even doing that while wearing those?! They must weigh a ton!

You’ve got the cutest ass I’ve ever seen

Knock me down for a six any time

He turned his back to the crowd and swayed his hips again, showing off his beautiful ass to that hungry crowd. Oh, they were riled up now. Too bad they could look but they couldn’t touch. 

Look at me, I got a case of Body Language

Look at me, I got a case of Body Language..

The song was nowhere near over, but it began to fade out. What a cruel punishment. Give them a taste of what they want then cut them off and leave them begging for more. An excellent strategy to get them to pay more money. The dancer took the time to collect the money they desperately wanted to give him. They placed bills in his belt, in his boots, and if they were really lucky he’d lean down and they’d place bills inside of his suit. God, I wish I could give him money right now..cause he sure as hell earned it. As he moved off the stage the same way he came in, the entire place erupted in applause, us included. A voice suddenly blasted from the speakers. 

Alright, Firehouse!! Show your love for StarChild!!

So that’s what he’s called. Perfect name~ Since the show was over I figured we would all be leaving so I get up from my chair. Gene grabs my hand to stop me. “Hang on, Bruce..you’re not going anywhere just yet. You have a date with that dancer~” Wait. WHAT? I must’ve been hearing things! “I’m..what..?” Gene smiles and I can hear Peter and Eric snickering behind me. “That’s right~ A special little birthday gift from us to you~” I’m frozen. I can’t think. I can barely breathe. My brain is still trying to process what Gene has just told me. 

I am going to be spending the night with StarChild.

To be Continued!!

[hollandandi]

“you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

——

entry for @underoosbws’s 3k writing challenge!🧠💓

tom or peter

type - mostly angst, some fluff🧠💓

word count - 2.5k

warnings - swearing/language

w/n; sorry I’ve been absent lately! family drama has been in my head! enjoy this! and let me know your thoughts, please!💓

tag-list; @therealme13posts @crxssourbones @space-starz

——

It had been two weeks since the secrets began filling the hallways, and each room of your shared apartment. It soon began infiltrating your phone, messages being deleted shortly after you pressed the send button and saw the ‘delivered’ font appear briefly. You would glance over to the brunette boy who would sit on the couch, zoned into whatever show was playing at the time of the day, before gently tapping details of the plan into your notes section, and sending screenshots to your closest friends to ensure the idea was bulletproof.

You spent your days online. Reading success stories of similar situations, and researching current trends to ensure you were going about it the right way. You would clear your history after any searches, and would log out of Amazon after any purchases. Your laptop went everywhere you did, and your phone suddenly had a passcode on it.

You felt guilty at times; confiding in your best friend over FaceTime on a Thursday night, in a cropped hoodie and pyjama shorts, but when Tom arrived home early one day, and heard you muttering things like “I just don’t know if this a good idea anymore,” and “I feel bad,” followed by you quickly ending the call when you heard his footsteps along the wooden floor of the main hallway, he finally lost it.

“What the hell are you hiding from me?!” He yelled, spitting anger throughout his tone. “I am tired of this, Y/N! You could not be more god damn secretive!” He raised his arms in a mix of exhaustion and frustration, before bringing them back down to his sides in a swift motion. His head shook, making his hair follow, while he looked up to you with dark eyes, that were equal parts hurt as they were mad. You stood there quietly for a few seconds after the latter outburst, and you stepped closer to him in an attempt to reduce the tension between your two bodies, which were simply standing in your shared loosely-lit bedroom. “I’m sorry, Tommy. It’s nothing, I promise. I’m just researching for a school proj-.”

“Bullshit, Y/N! If you want to lie to me, then at-least have some fucking respect, and don’t do it straight to my face.” He almost yelled, but his tone was more controlled now. His voice was laced with pure exasperation as he expressed his final comment, before turning around, shaking his head once more and slamming the door behind him.

By the time you had pulled open the wooden door which physically separated you, though, the front door was closed too. The handle was jittering due to the force he had used to slam it shut, and your face dropped. Your hands shook lightly, as you pulled them up to run through your slightly greasy hair - your gaze not leaving the closed door he had placed between you both. You sighed deeply, hoping he would not be out for long, so you made your shared-bed, turned on the lamp, and stayed up reading a book he had brought you from his last travel. But your initial hope was wrong; Tom didn’t come home that night.

The next day came, which happened to be a Thursday, and it was now the afternoon - but the morning had dragged you slower than you could have ever imagined. You didn’t know when he would be home, and after several morning hours doing unproductive activities, which included six cups of hot tea; you decided to try and at-least get some of your initial plans to progress. You opened your shared wardrobe, before rummaging through the jacket section and pulling out a large plastic box with three letters scribbled on the side. “Tom.”

As you laid all of the contents out on the living room rug, your body in a crossed leg position, you realised the situation was getting hectic. You attempted to continue the work independently at first, but it wasn’t long until you called a familiar face to help you along. To your surprise, Harrison was free. Majority of your thoughts assumed Tom would be with him, drinking an afternoon beer and expressing his irritations he had accumulated lately.

“No - he’s not here. I can definitely come over and help: we only have a few days left so if you need help, I’m there.” He smiled through the phone, before leaving his apartment and arriving at yours in around fifteen minutes. A couple of hours went by - scissors, glitter, glue, paper, sharpies and string were littered over the carpet. You had laid newspaper down, but it didn’t help that much - glitter was always going to end up everywhere. You were on your phone, ensuring people were still okay to join you on Saturday evening, which you received numerous ‘yes’ replies to, making you smile and feel a lot less nervous.

All was content, and as Harrison helped you pack the previous items, along with new creations, into the plastic container that usually lived in the wardrobe, you finalised a few things that were on your mind. And as the snap sound of the container plastic rang through both of your ears, you didn’t manage to hear the normally all-too-familiar car lock from outside the studio apartment.

Tom made his way to the front door, placing his key within the lock compartment before turning it clockwise to produce a faint ‘click’ unlocking noise, and pushing the door open slightly. He expected the sounds of a Netflix show to be ringing through the building, imagining you sitting on the couch, eating popcorn, either crying over a character death, or laughing at a joke. What he didn’t expect, however, was the sounds of his girlfriend and his best friend, laughing lightly and expressing future plans.

“And you’re still free on Saturday night?” You expressed, moving the box to a couch cushion, ready to be placed back in the bedroom once Harrison had left.

“All fine - I can’t wait, if I’m honest. Today has got me really excited.” He grinned, moving his jacket sleeves back down now any glue on his hands and arms had dried.

“Okay, great.” You smiled softly, tucking a piece of loose hair back in your ponytail carefully. “But remember, no telling Tom.” You looked seriously at him, your eyes not leaving his until he nodded and replied. “I know, I know. I won’t - I promise.” He stood up, stretching his legs out as he helped you with any loose rubbish you two had produced.

“Someone want to tell me why the fuck not?” A voice echoed through the hallway, and into the usually happy, laughter-filled living room. You heard the front door shut, along with the sound of a jacket being flung across the stair bannister, before footsteps marched along the wooden floor. “No telling Tom? Are you fucking serious?” He exclaimed, scoffing slightly as he spoke.

“Oh my, Tom, you, you weren’t supposed to hear that.” You stuttered, your eyes slightly wider before as you froze in your tracks, your eyes quickly glancing to the box that was still resting on the grey couch that was centred in the room.

“No shit. Why the fuck would I want to hear my best friend and my girlfriend making fucking secret plans?” He yelled now, looking at Harrison, before his gaze flicked to you, seeing your eyes drop, hurt filling them from his tone of voice.

“Tom, trust me, it’s nothing bad.” Harrison followed, stepping towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Tom quickly shrugged it off, pushing it with his rough right hand, before looking at you, seeing you glance to the box again, trying to turn it with your hip so it was less out of sight.

“What the fuck is in there then? Hm? Clearly it’s got your bloody attention more than the current situation!” Tom’s eyes were dark now, more of a black than a brown. His jaw was tight, and veins were pulsing in his neck and arms as he began to storm over to the couch. Your instinct was to move in front of the box, facing him as your put your arms on his chest. You didn’t push him, but it was more of a physical barrier as you attempted to plead, while attempting to diffuse the situation in anyway you could. “Tom, really, it’s nothing. Just some stuff I’ve cleared out, I’m going to throw them away in a minute!” You let out, trying to move your head to stop his line of sight being available on the contents of the transparent box. This quickly frustrated him even more though, if that was even possible, proved by him grabbing your hands from his chest and pushing them down before moving you to the left of him and ripping off the grey, plastic lid.

He had no idea what to expect in the contents. His thoughts had been all over the place in the last twenty-four hours. It began with the cliché; lingerie, photographs, love letters, romantic gifts, all from other people, or simply, another guy. It moved to other ideas, some a lot more far-fetched than others - at one point the idea of you being an assassin popped up in his mind, but he quickly dismissed this, drank more of his beer, and moved onto a more rational idea, like you contemplating on different ways to break up with him. Advice columns on how to make break-ups easy, good lines to use when doing it, what to expect in the aftermath, etc. His eyebrows were raised, and his lip was bit - almost bleeding due to the pressure he was placing on it. His grip on the lid was tight, his knuckles practically bulging from his skin as he inhaled sharply and opened his eyes to see what the last two weeks had bubbled over for.

What he did not expect, though, was a box full of handmade, glittery banners that read expressions such as “Happy Birthday!”, tens of packets of party poppers, hundreds of metres of different colour streamers, too many balloons to count, and small packets of confetti and place-cards with family and friend’s names carefully written onto them. An invitation card laid on-top, one that had “Tom” written on the top row, with a small wink drawn next to it. After the typical line, ‘You are invited to the birthday party of...’, there was a three letter word, revealing the true intentions of his girlfriend in the past weeks. It explained the secrets, the quickly ended phone calls, the secretive texts, the consistent Amazon packages arriving at the door from places such as “PartiesRUs”, and finally, the all-nighters you had pulled throughout the time.

‘You are invited to the birthday party of...you.’

“I told you, you weren’t supposed to hear us.” You sighed, feeling slightly defeated - the cat was out of the bag. He knew, the surprise was gone.

Two months ago, on a Sunday morning, as the morning sun shone brightly through the curtains next to your shared bed, onto the white duvet cover you were both under, Tom expressed to you that he hadn’t had a birthday party in three years. Due to work, the difficulty to get a date everyone was available for, and one year, pure stupidity, the event had been missed. As soon as his confession left his lips, a plan formed in your mind. You checked his calendar app that night, while he was showering, choosing a date he was free and selecting the ‘busy’ option, but left the event blank.

As two weeks passed, secrets were filling the hallways of your apartment, along with his parent’s home, his friend’s homes, his colleagues’ homes and those of your family too. Each room of your shared apartment had hidden compartments, featuring essential additions to the date. Your bathroom had a basket of receipts under the sink, your kitchen had RSVP’d invitations in an blank envelope, pinned to the board next to the fridge, and your bedroom had a plastic container of decorations, some handmade by you and Harrison.

He dropped the invitation gently into the box, before turning around to face the girl he had yelled at two nights in a row. His eyebrows returned to their usual position, and his jaw loosened. His face dropped, his mouth parting slightly as his shoulders slumped. “I’m so,” He expressed slowly, “shit, my love, I’m so sorry.” He softly held your hand, standing close to you, before looking up to his best friend that was also standing beside him.

“Haz, I’m sorry too. My mind - it just, jumped to the worst conclusions.” He sighed, running his free-hand through his hair, as Harrison smiled sympathetically, patting his shoulder. “No hard feelings mate; we were probably a little too secretive. I’ll leave you two it, though.” He smiled at you, receiving a soft, and thankful, one back from you, before he nodded at Tom, and made his way out of the room.

“Love, I really am sorry - I just, my mind started racing; after all the things you were doing, and the call the other night.” His eyes dropped significantly, and you didn’t know whether you saw them water a little bit. “I thought you were planning on leaving me, especially after you were telling people you felt bad.” He sighed, moving his hair from his forehead, pushing it back. “I should have known you were planning something harmless, something thoughtful in-fact, so fucking thoughtful. But I had to come in and start yelling, screaming and just fucking the whole thing up. I can’t believe I’m such a idi-.”

His words were interrupted by your lips on his, pressing gently, with your right hand softly resting against his chest. He leant into the kiss, but didn’t harden it - this kiss was loving, but calm. It was a ‘I forgive you,’ kinda kiss, and it was all that he could hope for. His right hand laid on your hip, with his left cupping your cheek gently as the kiss continued for a few more seconds. As you slowly pried yourself from his lips, a soft smile curled on the corners of your lips once you saw he was grinning slightly, and a sigh of relief emerged from his lips. You gently nudged his shoulder with your fist, shaking your head jokefully before looking up to his gaze again.

“You’re half-forgiven. You’ll get the other half if I’m happy with your fake-surprised face on Saturday.” You laughed lightly, slowly taking the lid from the couch and clipping it back onto the box carefully. “And until then, no freaking out at me.”

“Deal.” He agreed, a smile plastered on his face as you hid the box behind the jackets, closing the wardrobe and walking back into the living room, where your slightly silly boyfriend was still standing.

“Okay, now show me your surprised face.”

“Bloody hell, that is awful, aren’t you supposed to be an actor or something?”

“Fuck off.” He laughed loudly, collaborating with an eruption of giggles from your lips. He may be a complete idiot, but at-least he was yours.