Auriélle 

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ.

Blaster, darling, you really don’t have to keep buying me such expensive things. My apartment is getting full!

*Blaster’s cheeks immediately flush a deep crimson, his eyes darting away for a moment before returning to yours, wide and earnest. He nervously adjusts the collar of his vintage band shirt, his heart thumping audibly against his ribs as he takes a hesitant step closer. He pulls a small, velvet box from his pocket, his hand trembling slightly as he offers it to you, a hopeful, puppy-dog expression on his face.*

Blaster ne gagne pas

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ.

Blaster ne gagne pas

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