#if you made it this far... you get ... a gift..

[cressidagrey]

The Drawer

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Part of the The mysterious Mrs. Piastri Series.

Summary:  There is a drawer in Felicity's mind.

Warnings and Notes: Some more context for the Silverstone chapter, also some insight into Piastri family dynamics in this verse. Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

There was a drawer in Felicity’s mind that no one knew about.

Not Oscar.

Not Bee.

Not even the professors who used to stare at her as if she were a marvel or a mistake.

Certainly not her parents, who had made her intelligence the defining trait of her existence, before they realised it also made her uncontrollable.

It wasn’t metaphorical. Not really. She’s always seen her thoughts as architecture—corridors, rooms, switches—and that drawer? It was real.

Smooth metal. Coded lock. Hidden behind a panelled wall, so even she had to work to reach it. She built it young, instinctively, the moment she realised how much of her mind was terrifying.

Not just brilliant.

Terrifying.

Because she knew what she was capable of.

Not just the soft brilliance people praised her for—solving equations on the train, reading journals like bedtime stories, explaining mechanical stress tolerances to a three-year-old. That was the friendly kind of smart. The kind people could admire without being afraid of it.

It was a drawer in the deepest part of her brain. Filled with truths she never let surface. Scenarios she’d played out but never spoken. Numbers she’d crunched just to see how far she could push a system, a structure, a person.

She didn’t like the contents.

Not because they were monstrous. But because they were possible.

A drawer full of the things she could do.

And that was the thing.

Felicity could do so many things.

She could write a paper that would fundamentally reshape the way the world viewed mechanical cognition. She could dismantle institutions in six bullet points and a spreadsheet. She could design systems so precise they would make countries pivot. She could break things. Build new ones. Rewrite rules.

But she didn’t.

Because she knew how dangerous it was to hold too much power in your head.

That was the terrifying part about Felicity’s mind. Not just that it could solve things. But that it could predict them. Build them. Unbuild them. Break a system with a smile, bend rules until they screamed without ever technically snapping them.

The drawer held plans she’d never use. Arguments she’d never make. Responses sharp enough to cut and leave no scar. Equations that could manipulate systems most people didn’t even know were rigged. Ideas that could change industries—ruin them, in some cases—if she ever let them out.

She never had. She never would.

Because Felicity, for all her brilliance, for all the terrifying elasticity of her mind, had made a choice very early on:

Kindness.

Kindness as rebellion. Kindness as resistance. Kindness not as softness, but as control.

It would be easy—so easy—to weaponise what she knew. 

To be cold, untouchable, triumphant in the way the world sometimes worshipped people who were sharp enough to draw blood. 

But Felicity had grown up under that weight. 

The genius child. 

The gifted girl. 

The one with the test scores that could split atoms and the eyes that saw too much. She had seen how quickly awe turned to fear. How quickly people began to see you as other.

So Felicity failed the IQ tests. Not failed, exactly—but she answered just enough incorrectly. 

They’d tested her, of course. Again and again.

She’d made sure to get a few wrong every time.

Not because she couldn’t get them right.

But because she’d already figured out what perfect scores meant.

Perfect scores meant more pressure.

More isolation.

More adults speaking about her instead of to her.

More expectations that stole her childhood before she could claim it.

So she let the number drop.

She missed the logic trap here, the pattern extrapolation there.

Felicity learned how to underperform just enough to be labelled brilliant, but not inhuman.

Even now, as an adult, she sometimes wondered what her real number was.

And then forced herself not to care.

160.

It was the number she gave when someone asked. A score high enough to seem impressive. Low enough to still feel human. 

Kind of. 

Even Oscar didn’t know the rest.

He knew she was clever. Knew she could rewire an engine with her eyes closed, design systems on paper napkins, debug code while stirring a risotto. Knew she’d earned a PhD while raising a toddler. Knew she could predict tyre degradation better than some engineers.

But he didn’t know the extent.

She never let him see it all.

Not because she didn’t trust him. But because she needed one place in the world where she wasn’t being measured. Where she could be small and ordinary and barefoot in the kitchen, with flour on her hands and Bee at her hip.

Oscar made space for that version of her. Never asked for anything else.

He called her brilliant sometimes, but always like it was a secret he was lucky to know.

Still, the drawer remained. Locked. Heavy.

Felicity could open it any time. Could unspool every thought, every possibility, every blueprint. She had the capacity to reshape things in her image—universities, companies, ideologies.

But Felicity didn’t want that.

She wanted to plant tomatoes and teach Bee how to read tire degradation charts. She wanted to place mosaics on the bathroom wall and write love notes into the margins of Oscar’s travel calendar. She wanted to bake bread and be left alone.

Sometimes, she worried what people would think if they really knew.

If they saw how far her mind stretched. If they knew the truth behind the quiet way she lived.

She wondered if they’d be afraid of her.

So she kept it hidden. Chose love. Chose patience. Choose not to win every argument, not to finish every sentence, not to prove every point. Choose not to be the sharpest thing in every room.

She built a life where brilliance could live without needing to bare its teeth.

Even Oscar—her Oscar, the one person who saw her fully—didn't know the contents of the drawer. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

Because he didn’t love her for what she could do.

He loved her for who she chose to be.

And that mattered more than any number ever had.

Felicity Piastri could break the world if she wanted.

But she'd rather raise one small girl to love it instead.

***

Oscar wasn’t stupid.

He’d never been. Not about her.

From the outside, maybe it looked like Felicity lived simply. That she liked soft things and quiet days, and teaching their daughter how to make pancakes shaped like brake callipers. 

Maybe it looked like she’d set her brilliance aside—like she’d traded academia for motherhood, engineering for sourdough starters and thrifted overalls.

But Oscar had seen it.

Oscar had known for a long time that Felicity was smarter than she let on.

Her intelligence wasn’t a secret—she had a doctorate, after all, and could explain things to Bee that most engineers would struggle to unpack for adults. She could read technical sheets like bedtime stories, fix electrical issues in the garage with a sigh, and beat him at chess in nine moves while stirring dinner on the stove.

Oscar knew Felicity was brilliant.

Not in the casual, top-of-the-class way most people used the word. Not even in the terrifyingly competent, engineer-who-fixes-cars-better-than-his-mechanics kind of way.

Felicity’s mind was something else entirely.

Felicity remembered everything.

Not just formulas or wiring diagrams or where she’d last seen his keys (spoiler: it was always where he swore they weren’t). 

Felicity remembered things with the kind of clarity that felt almost impossible. Entire pages of textbooks from university, word-for-word. The serial number of a broken dishwasher part she’d glimpsed once six months ago. The lyrics to a song Bee had sung in a kindergarten play, she only rehearsed at home once.

It wasn’t something she ever bragged about. Felicity didn’t do that. But Oscar had seen the way it worked, the way her eyes would go a little distant when she was accessing something buried in a mental archive no one else could reach. Like she was pulling open a drawer in her head and retrieving exactly the right file.

But there was something else. Something beneath the brilliance she allowed the world to see.

What most people didn’t realise—what even her own professors hadn’t figured out—was that Felicity Piastri was smarter than she let on.

It wasn’t that she lied. It was that she edited.

She softened the edges. She chose quiet, every time. She let other people win arguments she could’ve dismantled in seconds. She smiled through conversations she could have rerouted, rewired, rewritten.

Oscar saw it. In the way she paused before answering a loaded question. In the way she hesitated before explaining something complex, like she was calibrating, gauging how much truth to give. In the way she’d sit silently for long moments before asking a single question that dismantled the entire problem.

It was in the way she sometimes stared at a problem—not with confusion, but with hesitation. Like she already knew the answer. Had known it five minutes ago. But was weighing whether or not to share it.

It was in the way she let other people think they’d found the solution first. The way she edited down her thoughts into bite-sized pieces, digestible, unthreatening. The way she built space for others to keep up, even when she could’ve sprinted ahead.

Oscar saw it. Always had.

She never talked about it directly. Never told him the full of it. But he’d seen flashes. Once, early in their marriage, she’d rewritten the firmware on Bee’s baby monitor after it glitched. Not patched. Rewritten. In an hour. While breastfeeding.

Oscar had seen her write equations upside down on napkins. Had seen her reprogram Bee’s tablet because the parental controls were inefficient. Had watched her make an engineer go quiet with a single, softly-phrased observation.

She did it all while wearing thrifted cardigans and cutting the crusts off sandwiches.

But Oscar saw.

He never asked what else she was capable of. Didn’t want to know the limits—if there even were any. It wasn’t fear. Just reverence.

Because she never used it as a weapon. Never used it for leverage. Never made him feel small.

She could’ve built empires. She chose to build a home instead.

And Oscar thought that was the most terrifying, awe-inspiring thing of all.

He’d seen the shape of her mind in the way she mapped out their life. The way she always knew when he’d be tired before he did. The way she tracked logistics and race schedules, cross-referenced nutrition plans and school rosters and still found time to replace the smoke alarm batteries before he remembered they even existed.

He saw it in Bee, too. That fierce little spark that Felicity somehow guided with both freedom and quiet structure. Like she knew how to give Bee the right questions before she ever offered the answers.

And her memory… the older they got, the more years they layered onto each other, the more he came to realise: it wasn’t just impressive. It was intimate.

Because Felicity didn’t just remember numbers and maps, and measurements.

She remembered him.

Things he’d said in passing, half-asleep or distracted, that she somehow tucked away like treasures. The fact that he hated the sound of crinkling chip bags. That he liked exactly twelve raspberries in his porridge. That he didn’t like being touched when he was overstimulated after a bad race — but he did like having her nearby, just within reach.

She remembered the stories he only told once. The ones he hadn’t even realized were important until she brought them up again, years later, gently, like holding something fragile.

She remembered the colour of the shirt he wore the first time he kissed her.

She remembered all the versions of him — even the ones he tried to leave behind.

Sometimes, Oscar thought about how exhausting it must be. How heavy it must feel to carry everything. To have a brain that never let anything go. 

Oscar had always known she was something more. That brilliance was only the surface. That Felicity could see things others didn’t, feel patterns before they existed, stretch logic so thin it became poetry.

She never showed it all. Not even to him.

But he saw it anyway.

In the way she rewrote financial models to stabilise their family income. In the way she adjusted Bee’s lessons mid-week because she sensed boredom before Bee could say the word. 

In the way she rewired the battery system of his sim rig because she didn’t like the voltage drop, and did it while talking to Bee about the life cycle of stars.

Oscar knew.

He just never said so.

He never said anything. Never pushed. Never asked.

Because he knew—deep in his bones—that Felicity had spent her whole life being treated like a resource. A phenomenon. A marvel to be studied, dissected, and showcased.

He would never do that to her.

What she needed—what he gave—was safety. Space. The freedom to be clever without being dissected for it. The right to choose gentleness without being underestimated.

So he didn’t pry. Didn’t press.

He just held her hand when she needed grounding, listened when she muttered equations under her breath, and kissed her temple when she got that look—that distant, calculating look—before she blinked it away and smiled at him like she hadn’t just solved something the world didn’t even know was broken.

Felicity never showed him the drawer.

She didn’t need to.

Because he already knew what she kept inside it.

And he loved her anyway. Not in spite of it. But because she’d chosen him—and Bee—and love and bread and softness, over every sharp and brilliant thing she could have unleashed instead.

Her mind wasn’t a party trick. It wasn’t a tool. It was an act of love, the way she wielded it.

She used it to take care of the people she loved.

To take care of him.

Oscar wasn’t blind.

She was brilliant. Always had been.

But the most remarkable thing about Felicity wasn’t her mind.

It was the fact that she could’ve been anything—could’ve ruled rooms, reshaped industries, rewired entire schools of thought—and she’d chosen this.

Chosen him.

Chosen Bee.

Chosen tomato plants, and mosaic tiles, and quiet, ordinary joy.

She chose kindness. Again and again and again. 

And he respected the hell out of it.

Because Oscar knew, in the marrow of his bones, that if Felicity ever opened that drawer—if she ever stopped pulling her punches, if she ever decided to stop choosing kindness—then the world would bend.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 10] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: we have fluff, we have kissing, we have Diane, we have alcohol, we have cold, we have ending

A/N: last chapter. if you got here - thank you. thank you for every comment, for every word. sorry for the mistakes, thank you for the time you dedicated to me. i hope you enjoyed this story. because i did.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

Harry Castillo had thought for years that he was incapable of love. Several failed relationships, Lucy and his age had convinced him more and more of it. His younger brother was already married, his parents had lived happily for so many years, and only Harry was still single. And when he was slowly starting to accept it, which was hard because he really dreamed of a relationship full of love, understanding and support, you appeared.

Loving you came naturally to him, like breathing. The friendship that had developed between you was a solid foundation on which you had built what you had now. And Harry loved every single element of it.

Your clothes next to his. Cosmetics on a separate shelf. Another bathrobe in the bathroom, trinkets scattered throughout the apartment, subtle traces of someone's existence that he had stumbled upon in the apartment that had finally become a real home. When Harry came home from a meeting and found that you had made dinner and even baked cookies, he completely lost his mind.

Loving you was so easy.

After all, he held someone in his arms when he fell asleep and woke up next to them in the morning. After all, someone was waiting for him. Someone wrote him sweet and funny messages, or at least "Milk's out, can you buy some when you get back?". Harry accepted it all and was grateful for every day. You were completely on his side, at work and in life. He couldn't have wished for anything more.

This party was really important because it was connected to the annual awards ceremony. The invitation came a month ago, but it was only recently that Harry finally convinced you to let him buy you a decent dress.

You didn't want any gifts from him, even though he kept saying it was his pleasure. So far, he had bought you a few books you had talked about and a lipstick you had once looked at while shopping. But the dress and the lingerie were something he really wanted to give you.

“You look stunning.”

You smiled, applying lipstick and looking at him in the mirror. “Are you hitting on me, Castillo?”

“Maybe.” He walked over to you and kissed your exposed shoulder tenderly, then your neck. He looked ridiculously good in his well-tailored suit and combed hair. “I think something’s missing here.”

“What?” You frowned. You really tried to look good tonight. The party was really important, even though Harry was downplaying it again.

Harry left the bathroom for a moment and came back, holding a velvet, oblong box in his hands. You guessed what he was planning, and your legs almost buckled.

“You need a subtle accessory.” he said. “Close your eyes and turn around.”

You did as he asked. Something soft brushed against your neck, then landed on your skin. It took your breath away. A sweet kiss followed, and Harry quietly whispered, “Open your eyes, love.”

A delicate necklace appeared around your neck, simple and elegant, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. Harry must have noticed, because he was staring at your reflection in awe.

“Do you like it?”

“This is…” you ran your fingertips over the necklace, feeling how delicate it was. “You shouldn’t, Harry… It’s stunning. But this dress… And this…”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist as Harry rested his chin on your shoulder, “Let me spoil my girl. I know you don’t want to, but I love making you happy.”

“You do that with other things, they don’t have to be gifts.”

He smiled, sensing the other side of your statement. “And I know you’re not with me for the money, but for my charming personality.”

You turned in his arms, placing yours on his shoulders, leaning against the marble counter of the sink.

“And to your ass. You look so good in those pants.”

“Really?” Harry raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a chuckle.

“And for your broad shoulders. I think I could find a few more useful pieces.”

He shook his head in amusement before leaning down, brushing the corner of his lips against yours, careful not to smudge your lipstick. “You know I love you?”

You pouted. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“So I’ll keep reminding you of it for the rest of my life.”

The conference room of one of the most expensive hotels was filled with elegantly dressed guests. You and Harry sat at one of the tables covered in a crisp white tablecloth, surrounded by other businessmen and their partners. Conversations flowed freely, champagne was poured regularly into crystal glasses, and a band played pleasant music.

Harry's hand rested on your knee, occasionally moving to your thigh, which he squeezed lightly, and then he smiled at you like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I hope you get an award this year, Harry." Mr. Novak sounded, and the whole table burst into laughter. "I'm not kidding! You're great at what you do, lots of innovative approaches."

Harry smiled politely. "Thank you, but I didn't do anything by myself. I have just as hardworking people around me."

You smiled, feeling a significant squeeze in your thigh. The respect Harry had from others was always a source of pride. The hard work he had put in over the years was noticeable, and now he was reaping the rewards.

"However, I heard that your last contract was taken over by Ms. Kruger-Waltz." The older woman with beautiful silver hair smiled politely at Harry. "I like her, I've always been inspired by strong women."

"Mrs. Waltz is very good at what she does, we have to admit that. I lost, but Mr. Williams will definitely be pleased, and that's the most important thing."

The entire table agreed with him, and after a moment, as if on cue, everyone looked towards the podium, where a beautiful woman stood with the host of the event.

The awards ceremony began. The guests politely applauded the winners, who treated them to short and funny speeches. You sipped your champagne, feeling Harry's warm hand on your thigh, and when no one was looking, he brushed his lips against your arm, gently tickling you. He wanted to say something, wanted to suggest that you leave the party with him, and go home where you could be alone, when suddenly someone called his name and everyone at the table started clapping vigorously.

"Congratulations!" the man sitting next to him patted him on the shoulder, showing snow-white teeth.

Harry stood up uncertainly, because everyone was looking at him. It was still a bit embarrassing for him. But he felt something. You squeezed his hand, giving him the "I'm with you" signal, and he immediately felt stronger.

He smiled at the guests, and then, instead of going straight to the podium where his award awaited him, he leaned towards you and kissed you. The room filled with cheers, but you were in your little bubble for that brief moment. And when Harry walked between the tables, you could still feel his warm kiss on your lips.

“We should get out of here.”

“You should stay here a little longer.”

“Don’t tell me you like this food.”

“I won’t, but I like your suit.”

Harry kissed your neck and smiled, hugging you tighter. A dozen or so other couples danced next to you to some old song. Your fingers played with Harry’s hair at the nape of his neck as you swayed like everyone else. It was late, but many people were still having fun. Every now and then someone would pat Harry on the shoulder and congratulate him, and he would smile politely.

“You know I’m proud of you?” you asked quietly.

“Really? Why?” he looked at you with interest.

He saw your gaze shift to the guests in the room, then back to him. “You’re the same as you were when I first met you. You’re successful, you sign contracts, you manage money that most people never even saw, and you’re still the same Harry that hired me. I’m proud that in this crazy world, you’re still you.”

He smiled as he felt your words sink in. You were his greatest prize, and the way you supported him made him feel almost invincible. All of these people around him, this whole world, didn’t matter when he held you in his arms. He only needed you.

The night was pleasantly cool as you stepped outside to wait for your car. Harry’s jacket rested on your shoulders as you stood among the lonely guests who were also waiting. In your mind, you were planning a lazy weekend for the two of you, maybe to visit the new bakery that opened nearby, maybe go to the movies…

“Harry? Congratulations. You definitely deserve this award.” a familiar voice rang out behind you.

Diane appeared in a gorgeous black dress with beautifully highlighted red lipstick. Despite the late hour, she looked phenomenal.

"Thank you," Harry replied politely, and his hand that was around your waist squeezed you lightly. A familiar signal. "It's nice to see you. You look wonderful."

Diane lit a cigarette and took a drag, looking at you carefully. "I don't think you should compliment another woman when your lady is right next to you, Harry. It's a bit tactless."

"Don't worry. My lady knows she's the most important." he smiled at you. "I'm glad you found the time to show up here. You must have a lot of work with Mr. Williams."

Diane glanced at the car that had stopped in front of her. “That’s mine,” she muttered, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray against the wall and giving you another look. “I think we’ll meet again. Maybe you’ll win next time.”

“I’ll try. Have a nice evening, Diane.”

She got into the car and the driver closed the door behind her and a moment later they drove off.

For a moment you both stared at the place where she had disappeared until Harry finally spoke. “You know, I feel sorry for her. And even more for you, because Diane attacked you.”

“I thought about that too. She must have been really hurt.” you replied. “She was driven by emotions, and emotions are not always good advisors.”

Harry nodded, hugging you tighter as your car pulled up onto the sidewalk. The driver got out and politely opened the door for you. You thought about Diane for a moment longer, grateful that the encounter hadn’t turned unpleasant. Harry was level-headed and calm, even though you knew the situation had upset him greatly. But maybe, if it weren’t for Diane and that rumor, you would still have tried to keep your relationship a secret? Maybe something good would have come of it?

3 months later.

A cold had confined you to bed for over a week. Harry had asked the doctor to make a house call, and he had immediately prescribed you antibiotics and told you to stay home. It took you a while to convince Harry to sleep separately.

“I don’t want you to get sick too.” You said with difficulty, because your throat was aching. “I’ll go to the guest room and turn on the air purifier.”

But he refused. He took the guest room, although he spent as much time with you as his work allowed. When the situation allowed, he tried to work from home, exchanging messages with you if you needed anything. It took you two days to take a shower, and in the meantime, he quickly changed your sheets.

Harry Castillo was the perfect caregiver, and you couldn’t remember anyone ever taking such good care of you. And when he mentioned you were sick during a conversation with his mother, she asked her cook to prepare broth for you, which was quickly delivered to her son’s apartment.

“If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have come here to take care of you.” Harry said with a smile, placing a tray of steaming soup on your bed.

"She's wonderful." You replied, your voice slightly hoarse. "But I wouldn't want her to end up like me. You're different."

"Yeah, I'm a volunteer." Harry burst out laughing.

His mother liked you from the first time you met, even though you were totally scared and tense at the time. The Castillos' house was impressive, surrounded by a beautiful garden and a tennis court, but his parents turned out to be really warm and wonderful people. They immediately invited you to visit more often, even without Harry, to which you only responded with a polite smile.

Your relationship was blossoming and it didn't interfere with your work at all, which you were a little afraid of. You were still sitting at your desk, still doing what you were doing, only in the office next door was a man you really loved and with whom you went home.

"I'm back! Dr. Phillips said I can go back to work now, so you can't keep me at home anymore." You threw your bag on the console by the wall and took off your shoes. "Harry?"

You entered the living room and stopped dead in your tracks. There were two suitcases in the middle, which confused you a little.

"Harry?" you repeated in a slightly surprised voice, he came out of the kitchen wiping his hands with a towel. "Are you going somewhere?"

"No, we're going together" he replied smiling.

You frowned. "No. Mr. McMurphy clearly invited us to his place next month. I read his email" you replied, pulling your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolling through it. "Yes, that's exactly what he wrote".

"We're not going to Los Angeles, honey. I'm taking you somewhere else".

The confusion and disorientation on your face were so adorable that Harry wanted to kiss you. "We're going to Italy, baby, Rome to be exact".

Even more surprise. Now you were looking at him as if he had completely lost his mind. "Why?" you finally blurted out.

“Remember when we were at our favorite Italian restaurant a few weeks ago, you said it would be great to eat real pizza in Rome while watching the sunset and the Colosseum?”

"Harry... People say things like that, but that doesn't mean you have to do it right away..."

He walked past the suitcases and approached you, smiling like he thought it was a lot of fun.

"But we can. And we will. I've already taken care of everything, with Susan's help. Now you should relax somewhere warm and beautiful. Rome is perfect for that."

"But Harry..."

“No buts. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.” He said, placing his hands on your hips and kissing your forehead. The decision had already been made, you had no say in the matter. “We have to stay until Saturday because my mom absolutely wants to see us for dinner tomorrow. She said you must look really hungry after being sick and that she’ll make your favorite dessert.”

You rolled your eyes because you knew you couldn't win with him. "Sometimes you can be insufferable, you know? You're lucky I love you."

“Yes, I’m lucky.” He mumbled, leaning down and kissing you.

You didn't know what you had done to deserve what happened to you with this guy. Harry made you want to be a better person, while knowing that who you were was enough. He brought out the best in you, and you loved him for how warm and caring he was, and how safe you felt with him.

Harry felt like he had finally found what he had been looking for for so long - he felt complete. You gave him a sense of peace and stability. You loved him the way he always wanted to be loved by a woman, and when he showed you his vulnerability, you accepted him completely, just the way he was. He couldn't have been happier.

But you didn't know that when Harry was packing that evening, a small velvet box was hidden in his suitcase, between his shirts. And what neither of you knew was that you wouldn't be coming back from this trip alone...

☆☆☆☆

If you're reading this, thank you for taking this journey with me.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @nrschuster30 @maried01 @lunariantears @thatesqcrush @suzysface @youkeeno @legoemma @nuo0n @sarahhxx03 @hazzzy418 @pedrofan @peepawispunk @readingiskeepingmegoing @maryfanson @anoverwhelmingdin @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @axshadows @picketniffler @underneath-the-sky-again @kaysfanficcorner @noisynightmarepoetry @xmaykeca @orcasoul @sincerelywithheartt @southernbe @chaoticfestninja @telumendilsoul @hermionelove @paleidiot @lemon-world1 @diabaroxa @scarcetti @thatoneperson38747 @pascal-mynightlyobsession @sunnytuliptime @krystal---meth @nikoanna @capuccinodoll @titlee78 @goodvibesonly421 @crlsummer @chewie-bars @dean-and-baby343 @warmdragonfly @harriedandharassed @speaktothehandpeasants @pasc4lfuzz @darkheartgatita @deesparticus @beezusvreeland @sunnytuliptime @theoraekenslover @secretlettersfromyourlove @yassspose @pinkblackbra @avengersfan25 @kakiki3

[cinnamon7girl7]

"WE DON'T BELIEVE YOU, GOJO!!!"

At this point, saying Satoru Gojo was famous on the internet was an understatement. With thirteen million followers on Twitch, a YouTube channel full of viral clips, and a legion of fans who followed him everywhere, he was basically a digital celebrity. No one would’ve imagined that the guy with the “just woke up” face and loud laugh would make it this far—least of all, him.

Gojo had started streaming a couple of years ago, at first as a joke. He uploaded short clips playing with his friends, no cam, just a voice that sounded way too confident for someone constantly losing in Valorant. But everything changed the moment he decided to turn on his camera and show his face—then the internet fell at his feet. There was something about him… that mix of shameless charm, zero embarrassment, and a cocky smile that seemed custom-made to break hearts through the screen.

Now, he streamed four times a week, usually at night, starting around 8 p.m. and sometimes staying on past midnight. Mondays were for “chatting with chat,” as he liked to say—sometimes he didn’t even play, just commented on random stuff, reacted to videos, and laughed at the dumbest comments. Wednesdays were shooter days: Valorant, Overwatch 2, sometimes a little Call of Duty. Fridays were for story-driven games like Detroit: Become Human or Until Dawn, where he screamed like it was the end of the world every time a character died. Sundays were pure chaos: games with followers, silly challenges, and an outrageous amount of bits flying across the screen.

His room was part of the charm. The camera always showed the same angle: Gojo in his white gamer chair, wearing black headphones that contrasted with his messy white hair. Behind him, a wall decorated with blue LED lights, shelves packed with Funkos and little figurines, and a giant plushie of a cat with a suspicious face that always made an appearance at some point during the stream. Sometimes he wore sunglasses, just “for the drama.” Other times he showed up with wet hair, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and couldn’t care less. Always in oversized T-shirts or hoodies, most of them printed with memes or ridiculous quotes like “you won because I let you.”

That Monday night, he was in his usual talking stream. Almost 580,000 people were tuned in.

—Hey, hey, wait, wait —Gojo spoke with a lazy smile, leaning back in his chair—. Why are you saying that if I let my hair grow longer I look like a chaotic elf? Respect!

The chat was going a thousand miles an hour, emojis, conspiracy theories about whether he slept more than three hours a day. Affectionate insults, threats of eternal love, greetings from countries he didn’t even remember visiting. All the usual stuff.

Gojo slowly spun his chair from side to side while finishing adjusting his headset. He wore a gray hoodie with a stretched neck, like he had put it on without looking. His hair, messier than ever, fell disorderly over his forehead, and the dark glasses rested on the tip of his nose, letting his eyes peek over with a mischievous smile.

—Okay, let’s see, what do we have today?

@ILoveYouSoWhat: DO YOU SLEEP OR JUST EXIST?

@LoveRamen: I dreamed about you last night and woke up sad

@GojoEndMe: why are you so handsome today? Stop making me suffer

@SayHiOrIExplode: SAY SOMETHING, SENSEI, SAY SOMETHINGGG

—But I haven’t said anything and you’re all already upset! —he laughed, resting his elbows on the desk while reading the chaos on screen—. Weren’t I unbearable? Weren’t you all over it already?

@ShinyHair: yes, but your existence drags us

@MyPaleKing: you’re too close to the camera. My knees are shaking

@GojoFanClub: speaking for everyone when I say I hate you lovingly

—Wow. Strong statements for a Monday —he replied, raising an eyebrow—. I wake up, turn on the stream, gift you this beauty in 4K and all I get are threats and confused love declarations.

@StopThisMan: I can’t take this man anymore

@VirtualKiss: your existence is emotional violence

Gojo burst out laughing and leaned back, letting his chair squeak dramatically.

—See why I don’t stream every day? I need time to emotionally recover from the bullying you all do to me. Where’s the sincere affection? Where’s the pure love?

@BlindLove: I do love you, even if you’re unbearable

@ProfGojo: sincere affection? You only understand chaos

@BiteMeGojo: you give me love and trauma at the same time

—Love and trauma? What a strong phrase to put on a t-shirt! Wait... I’m going to write that down!

He made the dramatic gesture of writing with an invisible pen, as if he really had a notebook at hand.

—“Love and trauma since 199... well, since a few years ago. With love, Satoru.”

@IWantThatShirt: I’ll buy it RIGHT NOW

@AdorableMenace: stop monetizing our mental health

—But you all come to me! I didn’t even go looking for you. I was calm, playing calmly, and suddenly I wake up with thousands of you yelling “hit me or kiss me,” what am I supposed to do with that?!

@LetUsLoveYou: just kiss us all already

@GimmeStreamGimmeLife: we chose you as our favorite trauma

Gojo snapped his fingers, pointing at the screen as if he could really see them.

—Now I understand why my psychologist always seems so exhausted when I see him. He looks at me like “I don’t get paid enough to listen to what you tell me.”

@SatoruSpillIt: that’s because you didn’t tell him you’re a streamer

@SpicyTeaTime: does your psychologist know you’re a streamer?

—Of course. It was his idea, actually. He told me: “Maybe you should channel that need for attention in a healthier way.” And look at me now! Surrounded by thousands of strangers yelling things at me... total emotional healing.

@SawYouFirst: so it was the psychologist’s idea... we love him

@TherapistOfThePeople: thanks for everything, doc

He stayed silent for a moment, watching the number of viewers keep rising. It was already over 670,000 live. He noticed, but didn’t comment on it. He just smiled.

—Hey… can I ask something?

The chat paused for just a second. Just enough for someone to write:

@AskSensei: obviously, whatever you want

—Do you all watch all my streams? Like, every single one? Or is there someone here who just arrived, like, casually?

@CameFromTikTok: you showed up in an edit and now I can’t escape

@FromApexWithLove: I’ve been here since they were killing you in the lobby

@NoviceInLove: I came for a clip and stayed for your face

@NoEscape: I arrived yesterday and already sold my soul

—Ha! I love you guys. Well, not literally. Imagine if I could say that without legal consequences… “Streamer marries 13 million people.” Can you imagine? My big digital wedding. The first kiss would be delayed.

@IWannaBeTheBrideNumberOne: I want to be bride number one!

@LetThemKiss: can you kiss through the stream?

@ToxicMoon: no, but I can kiss the screen anyway

Gojo brought his hand to his chest with a hurt expression.

—You’re killing me. This is no longer bullying: it’s emotional homicide. And you know what’s worst? I like it. I’m an accomplice.

@ToxicButLoyal: we’re your favorite crime

@LaughButConfess: you laugh a lot but don’t say if you have a girlfriend

The comment went by fast. Almost unnoticed. But he read it.

And he didn’t answer immediately.

He just stared at the screen a little longer than usual, with a half frozen, half amused smile. The silence didn’t last even three seconds, but on the internet that’s eternal.

@I_SAW_IT: he saw it… he read it… and stayed silent

@WE_DONT_BELIEVE_YOU: there it is, the silence gave him away

@MAKE_HIM_CONFESS: don’t run away, bald guy with powers

Gojo squinted. Tilted his head. Then chuckled softly.

—See how you are? One thing is to call me handsome, and another to corner me like this is a live trial. What’s next? Bringing a lawyer to the stream?

@ChatAccuses: Satoru Gojo, accused of hiding love information

@WE_DEMAND_PROOF: Do you have a girlfriend or not?

@NOBODY_BELIEVES_YOU: this man is way too happy to be single

Gojo clicked his tongue, spun in his chair, covered his face with one hand, and murmured:

—And so, ladies and ladies… the war has begun.

The silence barely lasted a second. Maybe two. Then, as if someone had pressed a giant red button, the chat exploded into absolute chaos.

@SugarCookie: Don’t tell me you have a girlfriend.

@DonutKarma: What war? What did you do, Satoru?

@TenderRamen: YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?! WHAT WAR?

@GojoTheories: The one who stays silent… has a girlfriend.

@SadEyes: Is what I’m reading real or am I projecting?

Satoru raised both eyebrows as he read the messages flying across the screen. The monitor’s glow reflected in his eyes, now sparkling with pure amusement. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a dangerous smile on his lips.

—But what does one thing have to do with the other? —he said in a relaxed tone, though not hiding the laugh escaping from the corner of his mouth—. I was talking about the emotional war unleashed in this stream… who mentioned girlfriends?

@EmoPanda: WHAT WAR? THE EMOTIONAL ONE YOU’RE CAUSING ME?!

@LoggingOff: Gojo, DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?

@SpiritualSandal: CONFIRM OR DENY, NOW.

@FuriousPikachu: don’t evade the question, master

He let out a full laugh, with that laugh of his that seemed contagious even if you had no idea what was going on. He turned his chair a bit, moving closer to the microphone, as if he really had something important to confess.

—What if I do? —he asked boldly, raising an eyebrow—. What if I do have one?

@InnocentMe: CRY WITH ME

@DestroyedFan: I don’t know how to deal with this

@RealSandal: Don’t make me throw the sandal, Gojo

@ShockedRabbit: Are you telling me I was THE OTHER without knowing?

He rubbed the back of his neck with a half guilty, half delighted smile. Like he was enjoying every second of this collective reaction.

—Come on, it’s not that big a deal. —He shrugged with a dramatic sigh—. I just said “what if I do?” I haven’t confirmed anything, technically.

@Conspiracy3000: That’s what someone WHO HAS a girlfriend would say

@DramaQueen: the one who doubts, HAS

@DisappointedCake: I’m listening to Taylor Swift while reading this

@NotNormal: You said it. You sold yourself out, Gojo

Satoru rested his elbows on the table, intertwined his fingers, and rested his chin on his hands. He looked at the screen as if the whole world was judging him in an interrogation room. His lips formed a sly, almost tender smile, but in his gaze there was a spark of mischief no one was going to put out.

—Since when is having a partner a federal crime? —he murmured, in a mock victim tone—. I literally just said “what if I do,” and now they want to exile me.

@NoPeaceSinceToday: I just wanted to watch you play. Now I’m in therapy.

@BackgroundNetflix: This is better than any series

@NotAJoke: Say it. Just say it. Do you have a girlfriend or not?

And that’s when he decided.

He closed his eyes for a second, took a breath, and then leaned even closer to the mic, as if about to tell the biggest secret of his life. He spoke with a soft, sincere voice… but without losing the humor.

—Yes.

He dropped it with such dangerous calm it seemed scripted. Then shrugged, as if he hadn’t just destroyed thousands of hearts with a single word.

—Yes, I have a girlfriend. For six years.

The chat froze for a fraction of a second before going into spontaneous combustion.

@AreYouKiddingMe: error 404

@IAlreadyLeft: Nope. It can’t be. It’s not real.

@BrokenFantasy: SIX? SIX YEARS? SIX YEARS.

@MomI’mCrying: don’t talk to me, I’m mourning

@MySoulHurts: I felt like running in the rain

— I know, I know — he said, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture that didn’t help at all —. It all happened very fast… six years ago. I met her, I fell in love, and since then, here we are. And it’s not like I wanted to hide her, okay? It’s just that… you all are intense. Look at you right now.

He laughed alone seeing how fast the chat was moving. The chaos. The suffering. And yet, there was affection behind it all. That was the price of being loved by so many people: even good news hurt.

— She lives with me, puts up with me, makes me laugh… and she cooks better than anyone. I adore her. A lot. And no, I didn’t make her up. This is not a marketing plan or a strategy for a movie. It’s real.

@CollectivePanic: I’m dizzy.

@CollectivePanic: I’m sweating.

@CollectivePanic: I fell off the couch.

@ShockedCat: What do you mean SHE LIVES WITH YOU?

@BrokenHeart: I lost the light in my eyes

@I’mLeaving: This is my last stream, it was an honor

— What did you expect? That I would live alone and eat instant ramen my whole life?

He put a hand on his chest as if he really felt hurt.

— You don’t believe me! Do you really not believe me? After everything we’ve shared?

@DoubleStandard: I can’t be happy for you if I’m not the one

@IDon’tBelieveYouGojo: LIAR. I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.

@That’sFake: Gojo, you don’t know what true love is

@HaterButLoyal: This is a phase. Tomorrow he’ll deny it.

He laughed, the kind of laugh he only let out when everything seemed like an eternal joke.

— Want an official announcement? A blood-signed document? A romantic stream by candlelight?

@YourExInSilence: YES

@GiveItToMeNOW: Let her come. Let her confirm it. NOW!

@DeluxeBetrayal: Proof, Satoru. We want proof.

He leaned back, settling into that expression like he had everything under control. Like he’d been waiting all night for this moment.

— No, not yet — he said, winking —. You haven’t begged me enough.

@FuriousAndUnited: WE BEG ON OUR KNEES, DADDY

@FuryKiss: LET US MEET THE QUEEN

@ShockedHeart: I don’t know whether to cry or applaud

— That’s why I never tell you anything — he murmured, shaking his head with a charming smile —. They literally put me on trial the moment I open my mouth. This is an emotional court with no neutral jury.

@YouAskedForIt: Guilty. No way out.

@InnocenceIsOver: This is my last stream

— Well, now you know. I have a girlfriend. Six years. It’s real. She’s beautiful. She’s mine. And I’m not going to show her. Not yet. — He leaned toward the camera, winking cheekily —. And the best part is… this is just the beginning.

The chat kept roaring like an endless storm. Hearts were broken, fingers typed as if trying to pierce through the screen, and Satoru… he simply enjoyed it. You could tell. That playful sparkle in his eyes was like a mischievous child nobody could stop.

@DetectiveFan: OK. LET’S START THE INVESTIGATION

@BestFriendWhoDoesn’tSuspect: IS SHE BLONDE?

@BetrayedButLoyal: GOJO, IS SHE PRETTY?

@EyesLikeTheSky: tell me if she has light eyes or I’ll die

Satoru let out a mischievous giggle and tilted his head, resting his cheek against the back of his hand while watching the messages flood the screen.

—Hmm… —he made a thoughtful sound, as if truly evaluating something important—. Want to know about her?

@Everyone: YES!!

@NowRightNow: TELL US EVERYTHING

@ConfessNow: GOJO, I BEG YOU

He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, pretending to be indecisive.

—Okay. But let’s play. If you guess her hair color… I’ll say something about her. Only one thing per correct guess, okay?

@PinkHair: PINK!

@BlackLikeMySoul: BLACK

@SilverLikeYou: SILVER LIKE YOURS

@RedheadPlease: REDHEAD!

@SurelyBlonde: She’s blonde, my soul tells me

@FantasticRainbow: She’s bald

Satoru watched each message pass with a raised eyebrow, as if silently judging. He smiled with clenched teeth and shook his head.

—No, no, no. Everyone is pretty far off… Although that one from “@FantasticRainbow” made me laugh —he shrugged—. Anything else? Anyone else want to try?

@IneverFail: DARK REDHEAD

@MyIdealMotherInLaw: BLACK WITH BLUE HIGHLIGHTS

@DetectiveChestnut: BROWN

And there, he said it. He heard it. Well, he read it. He paused. His eyes opened a little wider, that subtle way he has only when caught. A laugh escaped him before he could control it, soft and playful.

—Aha… —he whispered to the microphone—. We have a winner.

@NOOOO: WHAT? WHO? WHICH ONE WAS IT?

@REPEATIT: I DIDN’T SEE! I DIDN’T SEE!

@STOPEVERYTHING: SOMEONE GOT IT RIGHT!

Satoru let out a louder laugh, dropped his head back for a second, then looked directly at the camera again.

—Yes. Brown. Bingo.

@IMDEAD: I’M SAYING GOODBYE TO THE WORLD

@IWANTTHATINFO: TELL THE TRUTH, YOU PROMISED

@GOSSIPWITHPRIZE: GOJO, SPILL IT

Satoru rested his elbows on the desk, laced his fingers, and looked at the camera with a smile that melts hearts.

—Okay. One truth about her… Every time I get sick, doesn’t matter if it’s a silly cold, or I just sneeze three times a day… she makes me soup. A special one. It has ginger, onion, carrot, sometimes rice. And she knows exactly how long to boil it to heal me. It never fails. Never.

@SOULHEALER: I want to die of love

@IWANTTHATSOUPE: Do you have the recipe?

@SHE’SMYIDOLNOW: MAKE HER A SAINT!

—Another round, want it? —he said in a lower, playful voice, as if he knew the chat had no escape—. What if now you guess… her eye color?

@BlueLikeMyHeart: BLUE!

@SorceressGreen: GREEN!

@BlackLikeMyShadow: BLACK

@RedLikeMyEnvy: I DON’T KNOW BUT I WANT THEM TO BE RED

@Violet: VIOLET, obviously

@SweetCoffee: Brown

Another pause. A slow smile formed on Satoru’s lips, who barely bit his lower lip.

—Look at that! Again… someone got it right.

@WHOWASIT: SAY IT!

@IDIDNTSEE: WHO SAID IT?

—Brown. —The word came out soft, with sincere affection—. A brown that changes with the light. Sometimes it looks like honey, sometimes like wet earth. They’re… pretty —he admitted quietly, lowering his gaze only a second before regaining composure—. Another truth, then.

He stretched in his chair, as if thinking a bit.

—She doesn’t let me leave without breakfast. Never. And when I try, she crosses her arms at the door and won’t let me pass. She says, “You won’t last five minutes like that.” And she’s right. Always right.

@I'MCHILLING: HOW DO I BECOME HER?

@IWANTTOBEBREAKFAST: I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT MUCH ABOUT MYSELF

@MARRIAGEIN4MONTHS: I MARRY THEM

And suddenly, BOOM! The screen exploded with violet lights and digital fireworks.

@IDONTBELIEVEYOU just dropped the bomb: 💥 20,000 bits �� The message came with pure venom: @IDONTBELIEVEYOU: I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY. I. DO. NOT. BELIEVE. YOU. I won't believe it until she comes and says it with her VOICE. WE WANT TO HEAR HER! CALL HER NOW, GOJO!

The chat collapsed as if someone had kicked a beehive.

@OHMYGOD: AAAAAAAA

@THISISASECT: THIS GOT SERIOUS

@BIGDONATION: YOU DON'T PLAY WITH 20K BITS

@MYSOULSCREAMED: THE VOICE! THE VOICE!

Satoru opened his eyes as if he'd been challenged to the world gossip finals. He leaned back in his chair, making a face like "Are you seriously doing this to me?"... then he smiled.

— Well, well... — he said, looking at the camera like he was talking to an accomplice.

Someone wants audio proof.

The chat went on fire.

@CALLCALLNOW: I'M NERVOUS AND I'M NOT EVEN HER

@WEARECRAZY: WHAT IF HE ANSWERS SWEETLY?

@IWILLDIEHAPPY: WHAT IF HE SAYS "LOVE"?

Satoru was already pulling out his phone. With one hand he unlocked it, swiped to your contacts, and there was your name, with a bow emoji and a pink heart.

He typed. He called. Speakerphone.

— If you don't answer... they're going to burn me alive — he murmured, amused.

A couple of rings, and then:

— Hi? — your voice, unprepared, so natural, so you.

Satoru straightened up a bit, a smile already fixed and a mischievous look.

— Love, where are you?

— At Zara — you said, unaware you were being listened to by thousands of lost souls.

I'm between two dresses, one makes my legs look beautiful, the other is very short. What are you doing?

Silence. TOTAL silence.

Satoru looked straight at the camera. He didn’t explain anything. He just said with a calm smile:

— Nothing. I just wanted to hear you — he replied, with that low, honeyed voice reserved only for you.

And that’s when hell broke loose.

@NOOOOOOOOOOO: HE SAID LOVE LIVE ON AIR!

@IGOTOUTOFTHISWORLD: THAT VOICE. THAT VOICE. THAT VOICE.

@INEEDAIR: SHE'S AT ZARA AND HE CALLS HER. WHY IS THIS SO REAL?

@ICRYFORTHEM: SHE SAID “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” AND HE ANSWERED “NOTHING.” THEY’RE DESTROYING ME

@20KBITSWELLSPENT: IT WAS WORTH EVERY BIT. EVERY SINGLE ONE.

@SHOPPINGQUEEN: SHE’S SHOPPING AND HE CALLS TO HEAR HER VOICE? SHUT UP, I’M CRYING IN PUBLIC!

@IMBREAKING: WHO SAYS “I JUST WANTED TO HEAR YOU”? WHO DOES THAT AND SURVIVES?

@HAPPYLIVES: THAT’S IT. THIS IS A DRAMA. THIS IS NOT REAL.

@LOVEONLOUDSPEAKER: I NEED TO BE LOVED LIKE THIS. HOW DO YOU DO IT?

@THISISNOTADRILL: GOJO, STOP. YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HALF THE FANDOM

@OFFICIALLYDECLARE: HER VOICE IS SOFT. HE LISTENS LIKE IT’S A PRIVILEGE

— Are you busy? — you asked, not knowing your voice had just been archived by thousands of people in their brains and hearts forever.

— For you, never — he said with a little smile, resting his elbow on the table like this was an intimate video call... and not a stream watched by over a hundred thousand people.

@IMDEAD: HE SAID “FOR YOU, NEVER.” FOR YOU, NEVER!!!!!

@BREATHEFORGOD: LIVE FLIRTING. PUBLIC FLIRTING. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

@HEROESOFMYHEART: I THOUGHT I WAS IN GOJO’S STREAM, NOT IN A LOVE STORY

— I’m just... at Zara. I saw something I thought you’d like — you kept saying, while the world melted in real time.

— What?

— A white shirt, one of those you like.

@SHEKNOWSWHATSHELIKES: SHE KNOWS WHAT SHIRTS HE LIKES!!!

@STOPEVERYTHING: WHO AUTHORIZED HER TO BE THIS PERFECT?

@GOJOSWIFECONFIRMED: NO DOUBT LEFT. THIS WOMAN EXISTS AND HAS HIM IN LOVE

— Send me a photo — he said, completely shameless, ignoring that the entire world was listening to every word with teary eyes.

— Okay, but don’t ignore me, okay? — you whispered sweetly.

— Never — and the monitor in front of him reflected for a second that silly, in-love smile.

@IMSOFEDUP: ENOUGH!!!! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE

@LOVEEXISTS: IF THEY EXIST, LOVE DOES TOO

@BREATHETOGETHER: SERIOUSLY, STOP. I’M CRYING IN THE WORK BATHROOM

— Did you buy anything yet or are you still doubting as always? — he joked, leaning further back in the chair.

— I’m looking... there’s a pretty dress too, but I don’t know which of the three to pick — you answered with a little laugh.

— Everything you wear looks spectacular. Literally. Everything — he replied without thinking twice.

@IMSCREAMING: HOW CAN I GET SOMETHING LIKE THAT?

@BREATHEWITHME: I’M. H-Y-P-E-R-V-E-N-T-I-L-A-T-I-N-G.

@EVERYTHINGCONFIRMED: THEY CALL, THEY FLIRT, THEY KNOW EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES… THEY’RE MARRIED, END

— How dramatic — you replied, though he could already imagine your smile, and that was enough for him.

— Dramatic, but sincere.

@StopThis: THE TONE. THE TONE. HOW DO YOU TALK TO SOMEONE LIKE THAT AND STILL BE ALIVE?

@NowEverythingMakesSense: THAT’S WHY THEY CURE WITH YOUR SOUP. BECAUSE YOU TALK LIKE THAT

— Do you want me to buy you something? — you asked, switching to sweet mode like nothing happened.

— Yes. But only if you send me a photo of you trying it on.

@ImBurningUp: OH PLEASE! HOW EMBARRASSING, GOJO!

@I’mShaking: THIS IS PRIVATE NOW. WE’RE IN HIS LIVING ROOM WITHOUT PERMISSION

@GojoNoFilter: HE’S ON STREAM, HE FORGOT!

— Satoru… — your voice sounded between amused and exasperated — Now that I remember, weren’t you doing something?

There was a brief silence.

Then he burst out laughing.

— Ah, right — he said between laughs — I was on stream.

@NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO: THEY TOLD HIM!!! SHE DIDN’T KNOW!!!!

@DeadlyGojo: SATORU!!! YOU CALLED HER LIVE AND SHE DIDN’T KNOW???

@That’sWhyIt’sReal: IT’S SO REAL SHE DIDN’T EVEN REMEMBER SHE HAD AN AUDIENCE

@100KWitnesses: WE WERE HERE. WITNESSES TO THIS ROMANTIC MOVIE

— WHAT? YOU’RE ON STREAM!? — you asked, stopping dead.

— Yup — he answered, totally shameless — Six hundred eighty thousand people just fell in love with you, just so you know.

@Confirmed: OFFICIAL. WE ALL FELL IN LOVE

@SheOwnsEverything: THE VOICE. THE WAY HE TALKS TO HER. THE SWEETNESS. IT SWEPT ME AWAY

@NowWeGetHer: AND WE WERE CRITICIZING. YOU DESERVE GOJO, QUEEN

— Oh, Satoru… how embarrassing. — Your voice was soft, nervous, but sweet.

— Embarrassed? Everyone’s dead in love with you. They just asked me to propose to you live.

@IAlreadySaidIt: CONFIRMED, HE PROPOSES ON THE NEXT STREAM

@SatoruAndHer: I’M NOT INTERESTED IN ANY OTHER COUPLE NOW

— Hang up already, dummy — you whispered laughing, and he nodded with a soft smile.

— See you at home, love. I love you.

— Me too.

And he hung up.

For a moment, he said nothing. He just stared at the screen with a silly smile on his lips, while the chat kept exploding.

@ThatWasTooMuch: I’M GOING TO LAY DOWN ON THE FLOOR

@StreamOfTheDecade: THIS STREAM SHOULD WIN AN AWARD

@GonnaMuteMyself: I NEED TO PROCESS ALL THIS

— Well… — Satoru finally broke the silence with a mischievous tone — I think that was enough emotional trauma for today, right?

@INeedMore: NO, DON’T CLOSE. MORE, MORE, MORE

@NoHealingYet: WE NEED GROUP THERAPY RIGHT NOW

— See you on the next stream, chat. I don’t know if we’ll get over this… but we’ll try.

And with one last smile, he ended the broadcast.

Black screen. Chat crashing. Hearts exploding.

And somewhere in the world, you smiled unaware you had left half the planet in love with you.

[bluequeerio]

Omg I never thought about it that way! Thank you so much for sharing! ^^ This has actually helped me understand myself a bit :)

Personal vent down below:

Ppl can say whatever the fuck they want abt ep 5 and Ragatha (bc the block button exists lol) BUT it helped me realize I was in a toxic relationship 😃 I’ll try not to get into it too much bc it’s, well, personal lol

But anyways, seeing Raggie not being chosen despite all her kindness towards Pomni hit a little too close to home 😅 And as much as it pained me seeing her left alone at the end of the ep and then that Glitch post with her sitting by herself staring off into the beautiful night sky, I think it’s what I needed 😭 Cuz I was like, “good for her, she deserves better than that anyways” which made me go “wait a damn minute…” ajdhjsjdksjs 🫢

Another thing that’s piqued my interest is thinking back on Pomni’s apology at the end of ep 3. Of course I think she meant it but at the same time I’m like “well if she meant that then she hasn’t really shown it…” 😐 And I think this is my thought process bc HAHAHA MY EX WAS LIKE THAT 🤠🔫 For instance, they would make/give me gifts that were kinda the bare minimum, call me pretty/hot, tell me they loved me, and want to kiss me so fucking bad yet when it came to the emotional aspect they would disappear like Jax in the pilot during Kaufmo’s abstraction sequence lmaooooo 💀😵‍💫😞

Notes:

🔮 I DO NOT hate Pomni after this ep, I’m just upset and scared for her lol 😣 Like YES ik she is an adult but she’s hanging out with the guy who thinks Gangle genuinely likes it when he bullies her 😬 I just hope our jester girlie is being cautious at the very least (but it doesn’t seem like it rip 🫤)

🔮 I am also very aware that my ex COULD stumble upon this post, I just don’t gaf anymore 🥴🤧 I think she deserves to know she was actually an awful girlfriend who downright love bombed me, played me, and ripped my heart out of my chest 😓🙄🫩 Seriously I’d rather Jax shoot me in that safari adventure

♡ If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! ♡

Ok so

I personally didn’t see this scene as Ragatha realizing she’s alone

I actually think this is her making the choice to give up on getting closer with Pomni

See, It’s important that we got these moments in between Ragatha realizing Pomni and Jax have grown close enough to act like friends

Between her getting to know about someone she’s supposedly been stuck with for years and still being on good terms with someone she’s felt guilty for treating poorly

Ragatha is actually shown to be growing closer with the others

This is her feeling the warmth and validation she’s been seeking out

She doesn’t need more friends, she’s had some pretty good ones already, and in her obsession to be liked by yet another person has made her forget that a bit

Her brief moment of explosive anger with Pomni (very justified anger I might add) and then witnessing how Pomni was choosing to keep talking with Jax (the one who made her angry in the first place) made her feel betrayed

She’s watching Pomni bond with someone who likes to hurt others

She’s been wanting to get closer with a person who who wants to spend their time with someone who hurts her

So at the end, I think she’s realizing that this is not the kind of person she wants to get close with anymore

[imma-soft-beeboy]

I can imagine reader gifting tfa Jazz soooo many cool trinkets of human things. Lava lamp, hot wheels car of his alt mode, an actual traffic light if reader is brave enough, fake snow, beach sand in a jar, pressed flowers, stress ball that looks like Earth, fuzzy pink car dice, and more. Jazz is running out of room on his shelves from all these gifts.

A/N: I agree here's a small fic about you giving Jazz his newest gift.

Warnings: None all fluff (maybe some slight angst if you squint cause you don't see Jazz as much as you wished).

[My Collection] TFA Jazz x reader - Word Count: 778

Jazz was always busy, something he hated because he would much rather be out exploring this new, hip planet they were on. It was teeming with small organic life forms, and all of them had their own unique possessions. Everytime he thought he had seen it all he was proven wrong and a new item would be pulled from one of their many carriers. He was fascinated. In fact, in his free time Jazz loved to admire and document said items. He had quite the list of items he had noticed the humans using in their day to day. But the day he met you that list changed from on paper to physical.

At first it started as just small explanations using things you had on you. The small, round shiny items were coins; a type of currency. And humans called their visors, glasses. Some glasses could be tinted to make ‘sunglasses.’ Then it turned into you bringing him more items; items you insisted on him keeping.

The first item you ever brought him was a lava lamp, Jazz remembered it like it was yesterday. He had gone to meet you in the park –because Sentinel would have a fit if humans came onto the Elite High Guard ship– and he found you on a bench holding the long teardrop shaped item. You’d held it out to him triumphantly, showing off the glass manship and liquid inside. Listening with baited breath, he slowly reached out to touch the said item. As he was cradling it, that's when you dropped the metaphorical bomb that he could keep it. That, actually, you had specifically bought it for him.

Flabbergasted, Jazz tried to return the item to you, but you pushed it back into his servos, insisting. You said something about the item reminding you of him. When he further hesitated you added that actually it complimented his personality. Finally, Jazz caved before carefully stashing the lava lamp in his subspace, making sure it wouldn’t be broken.

Since then you had been relentless with your gifts.

So far you had brought him records, hot wheel cars that looked like him or his autobot friends, beach glass, several pressed flowers, and DVDs. When he tried to explain to you that you really didn’t have to bring him these gifts, you decided to rebel by bringing him increasingly daring items. A construction traffic cone, followed by a stop sign, and at one point a mailbox. These antics were quickly put to an end, he didn’t want to see you get into trouble. 

As a truce the next time you saw him you brought him a friendship bracelet, and you spent an hour explaining the complexity behind them. How friends generally crafted them together and traded them before wearing them forever as a sign of true friendship. After this lecture Jazz made it a point to hang the bracelet on his rearview mirror.

The next time you two met he bashfully explained that he had failed at crafting his own bracelet so he had decided instead to put your gifts on display. Pulling out a data pad he showed you the picture of your gift gallery now carefully shelved on the back wall of his habsuite. Joy sparked in your chest and encouraged you to continue bringing the bot gifts.

The next wave of gifts were much more personal. Car wax for him to use, or a Cybertronian friendly USB of human music that was able to be downloaded onto his datapad. It was sweet and made his spark warm; made him count the moments until he saw you again.

Today he nearly got caught twice by police speeding to the park to meet you. He couldn’t wait to see what you had brought him this time. Upon entering the park, though, he noticed that whatever you had brought could not be seen easily. In fact, it looked like you had brought nothing at all.

“Did you finally quit,” Jazz joked as he approached you.

“No,” you bounced your leg, “I brought you something… a little more abstract today.” He frowned at your demeanor.

“Do tell,” he encouraged. You let out a deep breath before leaning close to him, and in return he leaned forward as well.

“I brought you a kiss,” you murmured before closing the gap between you two and locking your lips to the bots. Jazz almost jumped at the sudden movement, but held his ground. Pulling back you looked anywhere but his face, your own a beet red.

“What a sweet surprise,” Jazz cooed, making you look up at him in shock. “I think this one is my favorite yet.”

[theotherrookie]

"I sure hope so. Things start going bad when we don't care anymore what happens to children."

"It must be quite interesting whenever you and the rest of your brothers meet up. With such a wide array of professions, you may never be at risk of running out of conversation topics." Willow chimed in. It was a touchy matter for Erica and she didn't want her to upset herself with the current topic too much.

"We have to take turns and there's just four of us!" The trick had worked perfectly. "Well, I didn't feel much pain as a zombie, but elves like me are just born with a hollow back. I don't know what it was for, it didn't really do anything. So I let Willow get rid of it."

"It was merely an aesthetic change that didn't interfere with Erica's magical affinity, as we have now confirmed."

"Yeah, it's no big deal." Erica reassured, "But I guess that's why we didn't know about it. I'm glad Rook met Russell, though. We wouldn't know all of you guys if she hadn't!"

"And for that, we're both thankful."

Erica nodded fiercely at Willow's words, before looking ahead. "I think I've seen this part of the city before."

Right on cue, Willow started giving out directions.

"I had to do it for my own peace of mind. Imagine dropping anything in here. The noise will bounce back and forth for days." Rook said, before eyeing Antonio, "And I had to think of my guests. After all, if you're too sassy while in the void, the void will eventually sass you back."

Luckily, there weren't signs so far of the pocket having any level of awareness. Perhaps its artificial nature meant it'd never fully go beyond reacting to the presence of those tied to it.

"Oh, I really panicked at first." Rook admitted, "Because I kinda sneaked in to see where mum was going and I got left behind. But then I just got bored of the panic and started poking around again. I guess it's just the effect this place has on you after you've been here for a while."

It did help that after a while it occurred to her she wasn't feeling hungry or tired. Not being directly affected by the passing of time while being in that glorified broom closet took part of the urgency away.

"Alchemy and herbalism are different disciplines. The ability to directly control the temperature and intensity of our fire is however a major advantage." Veronica replied, "I wouldn't mind sharing some of my knowledge on the subject. It can be very useful at times."

It wasn't just good for creating huge piles of precious items they could treat like Lego, after all. Rook was glad to see her gift was being appreciated.

"Anything for my big bro. But that coin you picked," She paused to point at it, "that's a lucky one."

She proceeded to pass more pouches around, even holding one up so it could be stored in the drone for the time being. They'd figure out a way to get it over to Simon's place later.

"Thanks, Leofric." She offered a second bag, "I can't wait to see what he'll make with these. It seems like he really likes smithing."

"I'm no expert, but I'll do my best with it." Lucien said, standing up, "Russell deserves to have something that shines at least half as much as him."

Rook rolled her eyes, "You guys are so mushy. I bet it's all those sweets you two eat."

Still, she was very happy for what Russell and Lucien had going for themselves. It was clear it made both happy and that was all that mattered.

"Well, let's catch up with Bill. He should be almost at the exit by now."

"They never do. I don't get why adults are like that with kids." Erica grumbled, "Well, that served him right. He should be thankful he can still see other people holding mops or anything else. I used to scratch those who picked on isolated survivors."

She tried liking everybody, but she simply couldn't stomach bullies. They should be better people if they didn't want their butts kicked.

"Oh, I just dress comfy for myself and for Smokey. He used to sleep in the hole on my back, but I don't have it anymore. So we need pockets now." Erica explained, "Oh, I see! Russell always gets in trouble, uh? But I'm glad he's going to be okay."

She scratched at the tip of her ear as she tried to recall anything about the accident Travis had mentioned. "Hey, Willow, how long have we known Russell?"

Willow, of course, provided an answer without hesitation. "Rook met Russell about six years ago. However, the accident in question was never mentioned to me, which might imply she isn't aware of that particular misadventure. It isn't the sort of topic one would so casually discuss with a person they only recently met."

Rook would have definitely brought it up at some point. The topic of Russell's ability to get in dangerous situations and narrowly escaping it had been discussed often over the years and neither had been able to provide an explanation on how he managed to do that.

"And I met him later because I was still figuring stuff out after Willow found a way to reverse my zombieness."

"We were all very busy at the time." Willow said, leaning back, "To think I was only two years old then. Time really does fly outside the matrix."

"You know, we could watch that show together." Erica offered, "It'd be the first time for me!"

Rook stopped to look around while the pocket kept shifting to create a suitable way out of there.

"That would become unbearable quickly. The first thing I did when I learned there was a way to interact with this place was removing the echo." Rook said, "I really didn't have a great time the first time I got stuck in here. It took mum half a day to notice I was missing."

"I only had control over a limited portion of this place. Chick had to keep busy rearranging all my supplies." Veronica added.

But of course, everything had changed when Rook had retrieved one of their lost books from the clutches of the Brotherhood. They finally had access to a powerful tool that made their activities far easier and were a bit closer to unlocking other hunting techniques previously lost to time.

The last few blocks fell into place just as Bill was sent off to enjoy the panoramic view. Veronica figured she would make herself useful while they waited for Rook to tend to her business and shifted her focus to keeping their surroundings stable while they lingered there.

"Alchemy has always been one of our strongest suit. I dare say Erika has a natural talent for it." Veronica said, pride evident in her tone.

Rook wasn't feeling particularly proud of herself, but still managed a small nod. "I'm alright. I see you guys found my pile of gold without the rainbow. Do you want some?"

The coin shined and felt like the real deal. It was made of gold of the highest quality and with both sides decorated with a crude rendition of a bird's foot.

Rook went ahead and dug up a candy scoop she then used to fill a small bag with coins under Lucien's very intrigued gaze. She closed the bag by pulling the strings at the sides, then offered it to Antonio.

"I've got plenty to spare. I really don't mind."

"The one he picked might be worth more than the entire pile, dear."

"Let me splurge, mum. I'm trying to ignore my feelings right now."

Unable to resist to the shiny himself, Lucien quietly took the scoop from her and started filling another bag for himself.

"Oh, please, don't make compliments." Rook said, nudging him with her boot.

"Get off my back. I can make a lovely pendant for Russell with these." The half fae hastily pushed back with his arm, before scooping up a few more coins.

[cosmowgyral]

With You through every Season ~

(5th Anniversary Story Event - Me and You, Always)

▪︎ Gilbert von Obsidian

this is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. creative liberties have been taken. all content belongs to cybird. reblogs are appreciated but do not repost. hope you enjoy!

~chapter 3

Emma blinked rapidly at the sight before her—

Three people, including the royal family's personal doctor and close aide, were grilling meat and vegetables together.

A flame roared in a makeshift outdoor oven, warming even the usually chilly research lab.

Walter: I’m a doctor… I’ve said it many times, but I am a doctor.

Roderic: Doctor, the meat is burning.

Walter: This isn’t a doctor’s job. This kind of thing is for the head chef, right?

Roderic: The head chef is busy today…

Walter: Don’t talk like I’m some idle man. I’m far busier than my brother.

Gilbert: Shut it, bystander. Here—more meat.

Walter: Prince Gilbert… aren’t we in the way?

Gilbert: Yeah, you are.

Walter: Then I shall take my leave—

Gilbert: Autumn in Rhodolite… it’s all warm and festive.

Gilbert: But Obsidian is so dull and empty that it made the little rabbit homesick…

Gilbert: Walter, what do you think happens when I get sulky?

Walter: Enough talking. Roderic, stop slacking. Today, I’ll overlook the rudeness.

Roderic: …I didn’t say it quite like that.

(I’ve camped outdoors countless times… but grilling meat at the castle? That’s new.)

As Emma still stood stunned, I beckoned her over and handed her a prepared plate.

I placed a freshly grilled piece of meat on her plate, and although Emma looked skeptical, she took another bite.

Emma: Mmm, this is delicious! It tastes so different from the usual meat I eat.

Gilbert: Heehee, glad to hear it. Outdoor cooking is my specialty.

Gilbert: Autumn is the season of eating for you, right? So go ahead and eat as much as you want.

Roderic: By the way, the same meat is being served all around the castle today.

Roderic: Because it’s a gift from Prince Gilbert, the sight of soldiers dancing with joy can be seen all around.

Emma: …Why all this…

Gilbert: You’ve been sneaking around to prepare all those desserts just for me, haven’t you? So this is your reward.

Upon hearing that, Emma looked up, as if realizing I had found out about her plans.

But that recognition didn’t last long—her expression soon softened into one filled with suspicion.

Emma: I never imagined I’d receive such a wonderful reward… Thank you, Gil.

Gilbert: You’re welcome. By the way, do you want to try grilling too?

Emma: I do!

Gilbert: Then I’ll lend you my tongs. If you get burned, just say the word—we’ve got a doctor here.

Walter: …Ah, so that’s why I’m here.

Emma eagerly started grilling meat, and I hugged her from behind.

She didn’t push me away—instead, when our eyes met, she gave me a warm smile.

(So this is what it means to give someone a season…)

(…I didn’t know.)

A few months after the autumn dinner party, Obsidian was hit by its usual cold wave.

Emma: It may be inside the castle, but it’s still really cold.

The two of us stood by the window, looking up at the winter night sky.

Dawn was close, yet there was no sign of the sun.

Emma: Gil, are you okay?

Gilbert: You don’t have to worry so much. The heater’s working, at least.

Gilbert: Ah, but I catch colds easily when it’s cold, you know…

Gilbert: Isn’t there a kind, gentle little rabbit out there who could warm me up?

When I opened my arms, Emma dove in without a moment’s hesitation.

Gilbert: Heehee, so warm.

Emma: You’re way too cold, Gil.

Gilbert: That’s nothing new, is it?

Emma: You’re colder than usual in winter. So please, hold me tighter—no need to hold back.

Gilbert: Really? Then I’ll take you up on that.

I hugged Emma tightly as she sat on my lap, and comforting warmth soaked into my chilled body.

(Is this going to become our winter tradition?)

(Winter already has so many events—more than enough on its own… what a luxurious season.)

Emma: ...I wonder how many more minutes until the sun rises.

She murmured softly, clearly looking forward to the first sunrise of the new year.

Gilbert: It’ll probably take a little longer.

Emma: Then I suppose we’ll have to figure out how to pass the time.

Emma: I should’ve brought something we could play together with.

Gilbert: I might have brought something.

Emma: Huh? What is it?

Gilbert: Let's see—

With a snap of my fingers, I pulled something out from inside my cloak like a magic trick.

Emma: Alcohol?

Gilbert: Yep. Alcohol.

Emma: ...Are you really going to drink it?

Gilbert: I usually don’t want to, but… it’s a New Year’s tradition here in Obsidian.

(Warming yourself with a drink while waiting for the first sunrise of the year…)

(I never cared much about traditions like that before.)

I poured a small glass and was about to hand it to Emma—but then stopped, as I caught sight of her completely relaxed expression.

(With that face… she’s definitely thinking I’m some kind, decent person or something—)

(Yeah, no way I’m handing this over so easily.)

Just as I was about to hand it over, I pulled the glass back and took a sip myself.

Sensing the mischief in the air, Emma shut her eyes—

[Chapter 2] [Masterlist] [Chapter 4]

[itsstelladuhh]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦Arcade

genre: fluff ; soul x gn reader cw none wc 921

────────────

It started with a text.

[Soul: arcade at 7 (,,>ヮ<,,)!?]

[You: Ofc! I’ll meet you there!♥️]

When you arrived, he was already waiting, sitting in one of the wire chairs inside the arcade gift shop, hunched over his phone, thumbs tapping a game you didn’t recognize. His platinum blonde hair glowed softly under the fluorescent lights, messy as ever. When he noticed you, he looked up.

And there it was that subtle, sparkly look he always gave you like you were his favorite part of the day.

You grinned, walking up to him and running your hand gently through his hair. His smile widened a little as he stood, and before either of you said a word, his arms slipped around your torso, his head nuzzling into your hand like it belonged there.

“Hi baby,” you murmured, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “You ready to play?”

He didn’t speak, just gave a small, happy sound, nodding into your touch before pulling away to hand you a neat stack of tokens.

Side by side, you wandered into the arcade, shoulders brushing, bodies close in that natural, easy way the two of you always seemed to fall into.

He led you to a two-player shooter game and quietly slid a token into your machine before seating himself beside you. The screen flared to life with neon zombies, chaotic effects, and music far too intense for a plastic gun game.

You screamed when one of the bosses lunged, laughing through your panic. Soul made the occasional noise, but you caught the quiet twitch at the corner of his mouth. He was enjoying this,not the game, but you, the way you laughed too loud and kept aiming in the wrong direction. He let out a soft chuckle when you both finally died at level six.

“We were doing so good…” you sighed, placing the gun down dramatically.

He laughed again,louder than the music this time, and stood. With no hesitation, he held his hand out for you. You took it instantly, letting him pull you to your feet, fingers warm, grip gentle.

Next: the dance game.

The moment you saw it, you both made a beeline for it. “You’re gonna destroy me!” you said between fits of laughter.

Soul spoke up. “I believe in you, N/N.” His smile was big and sincere.

The music started.

You danced like an uncoordinated whirlwind. Soul was only marginally better, and soon enough, you tripped over your own feet and collided into him, nearly knocking you both to the ground. He caught you, hands steady on your arms, and you both erupted into laughter, loud enough to get a few playful glares from nearby players.

Breathless, still grinning, you straightened yourself up. “We’re so bad at this.”

He only nodded, eyes twinkling.

Then came the claw machines.

You wandered over, spotting a slightly lopsided Pikachu plush wedged against the glass wall. You pointed at it. “Do you want it?”

He turned, eyes following your finger,and the light in them sparked immediately, wide and childlike. You didn’t hesitate, already slipping a token into the slot.

First try. Miss

Second try. Closer

Third try. The claw caught it, lifted, swayed… and dropped it perfectly into the prize chute.

You both gasped, grinning like kids. You squealed, reaching down to grab it before turning and gently placing it in his arms.

“For you,” you said with a grin.

He looked down at the plush, then at you, glowing with something soft and full. “Thank you, N/N,” he said, voice laced with affection.

And then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around you again and peppered your face with soft, rapid kisses,cheeks, nose, forehead, everywhere.

You shrieked with laughter, scrunching your nose as you tried to dodge his random affection attack. “Soul!! That tickles!”

He only grinned harder, burying his face into your neck for one final kiss before pulling back, content.

The rest of the night blurred into tokens and colors and laughter, matching keychains, five more plushies somehow won, fingers brushing near the pinball machine, the warm comfort of being beside him.

Eventually, you stepped out into the cool night air, arms full of prizes, cheeks sore from smiling. You walked together in silence, quiet in a way that felt safe and full.

When you reached the spot where you’d part ways, you both stopped.

You turned to him, raising your hand gently to push the hair from his face, letting your palm cup his cheek. He leaned into it instinctively.

“I had a lot of fun,” you whispered, afraid anything louder might break the moment.

He hummed, nodding. His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes.

You chuckled under your breath and leaned in, slotting your lips softly against his. He kissed you back instantly, head tilting, his hand (the one not holding three plushies) finding your waist and rubbing soft circles without thinking.

It was slow. Sweet. Warm.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, flushed. He rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” you said softly.

His voice barely made it past his lips, but you heard it. “I love you too.”

You gave him one last kiss on the crown of his head before stepping away, still holding his hand until the last possible moment.

When you got into your car, your phone buzzed.

[Soul: Same time next week (｡·  v  ·｡) ?]

You laughed, heart full.

[You: I’d love to (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧]

[thecagedsong]

having a blast listening to an audiobook of Robert Fagles translation of the Odyssey.

Highlights so far:

1 The sheer number of times they turn to Athena in disguise to offer the prayer. And she just grins like 'good boys, now pay attention!'

2. Athena does the prayer to 'storm-eyed athena' first when they are setting off on a voyage, lol.

3. This interaction:

Telemachus: Not even the Gods could bring my father home.

Mentor (Athena): That's an awfully big thing for a mortal to say. In Fact, wait right here (flies off as an eagle).

King Nestor: Well. Poesidon's feast is done, looks like it's Athena's turn tomorrow! Make sure the sacrifice is covered in gold men!

4. Helen just . . . just drugs everyone? 'You could watch your father die in front of you and you wouldn't shed a tear with this drug'. Like GIRL, I know Telemachus is bringing the vibe down at the kids' double wedding by reminding everyone Odysseus isn't home, but slipping everyone a roofie is NOT the answer.

5 Athena really just batting her eyes at her father and going "Please bring Odysseus home? He made such good offerings." and Zeus immediately going "He sure did! Let's get him home while Poesidon's distracted in Ethiopia."

6 I remember being ticked before that 'wise' Penelope's first scene is Telemach telling her to get a grip, it's just a song. Isn't she supposed to be Odysseus's equal? But then I remembered that, at this very moment, Odysseus is also spending all his time crying while on Calypso's island.

7 speaking of Penelope, Telemachus really almost convinced the lords to take back their sons and stop wrecking his house, but then one of them was like "Actually, remember how matchless Penelope tricked us for three years? Penelope is literally a Queen blessed with beauty and gifts that comes around once a millenium. We ain't leaving her unwed. You got a problem with us, take it up with her."

Penelope was really just that much of a milf that everyone was like 'Yeah, going to take my chances with Zeus and/or Odysseus slaughtering us if it means partying all day and having a chance with Penelope.'

It's real fun guys. I think I'm going to listen to it twice with different translations.

[carnatedrugs]

Fix me.

Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Hi guys! I was struggling with my LOVE for Simon Riley so I wrote this and I'll just leave a first chapter. English is not my first language SO IM SORRY IF ANYTHING WRONG and I don't know if I need to continue but let's just leave it here for now.. heh ; - ;

Chapter 1

The train was late—too late, I’d say. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed; the summer heat was torturing me, melting my brain, making it hard to concentrate on anything. "Why did this damn piece of metal have to break now?" I huffed in frustration, eyeing the engine my father had built for my car. Now I had neither a car, nor a father to fix it.

Our relationship had always been... complicated. Maybe I’ll get into the details later. Despite our issues, there’s no denying he was a gifted man. The whole village relied on him—if it could be fixed with hands, he could fix it. Me? Not so much. I have my own talents—at least, I like to think so. But you know how it goes when parents want you to continue their legacy. So yeah, now you get why our relationship was tricky.

But none of that matters right now. I’m standing under this merciless sun, waiting for the fucking train. No one in my small town could fix the engine, so I had no choice but to travel to another city. I’ve never traveled like this before. I was content with where and how I lived. But without my dad around, I might as well throw the car away and forget it ever existed. Still, I made a choice—to find at least one person on this planet who could understand my father’s work and fix what he left behind.

Luckily, I’d heard rumors about a genius, someone who could fix anything. They said he was on another level—more magician than mechanic. Of course, no one could confirm that. I’m not someone who usually believes in miracles, but I’m desperate enough now to hope the rumors are true.

After what felt like forever, the train finally arrived. The ride would be long—apparently this so-called genius isn’t fond of people, and his home is far off the beaten path.

While watching the endless landscape pass by—fields, wires, smoke columns from distant furnaces—I started thinking about how hard these past four months had been. Money was tight, work was draining. The timing of this breakdown couldn’t have been worse. I couldn’t wait for another paycheck to get it fixed—without the car, my job becomes nearly impossible.

"Maybe think of it as a mini vacation—the one you always wanted," I whispered, forcing a sigh.

I work as a tutor for school kids. Since I was struggling financially, I started taking clients from nearby towns. They paid more—I didn’t have much of a choice. So yeah, I need that car back.

After countless kilometers of fields and lakes, I finally dozed off. My body had given in, but my mind kept spinning. Each bump on the tracks felt like a knock on the door of my nerves. Four months of holding everything together—and now this. I stared out the window, but the scenery blurred into something meaningless. What if this trip was a waste? What if he couldn’t fix it? What if I was chasing a ghost? The engine wasn’t just a piece of machinery. It was the last thing my father ever made for me. A cold thought slipped in: maybe it was never meant to be fixed.

I pressed my forehead against the window. The glass burned from the heat outside, but I didn’t move. The world rolled on, and I felt like I was stuck in place.

Taking these complicated thoughts aside I tried to cheer myself. I’m finally shifting my focus away from work, to steal a few hours of sleep. But just as I started to drift, the train jerked to a stop. I groaned from the sudden jolt and the ache in my back. Looking out the window, I saw a small village nestled among green hills, with quaint houses and scattered farms. The village looked like it had been plucked from a forgotten blueprint—where nature and machinery coexisted in a delicate, rusted balance. The cobblestone paths were lined with copper piping, some of them hissing gently with steam. Wind turbines, some broken and tilted, spun lazily above wooden rooftops reinforced with iron brackets and rivets. The air smelled like oil, coal, and lavender fields. An interesting mix.

As I stepped off the train, a rush of cool air filled my lungs. For a moment, I felt relief. This wasn’t my final destination—I still needed to find a ride to reach the “magician.”

I dragged my cart off the platform, the engine perched awkwardly on top. Back aching, hope still clinging to me, I headed into the village.

After asking around, one kind old man agreed to drive me where I needed to go. Everything went surprisingly smoothly. The people here were warm, the landscape beautiful, and I found what I needed faster than expected. That gave me a pause—maybe this “genius” wasn’t a magician after all. Maybe he was just a regular guy, and this trip was all for nothing.

"There’s no turning back now," I muttered, trying to quiet my doubts.

Lost in thought, I spotted a large windmill standing still against the sky. The car stopped. I got out.

"He lives here," the old man said, helping me unload the cart.

"Thank you so much!" I said with a smile as he drove off. Probably should’ve asked him to come back later. There’s no way this guy’s fixing it today. Looks like I’ll be staying in the village.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, exhaustion finally caught up with me. But rest would have to wait. I took a deep breath and approached the windmill.

It was quiet here—peacefully, almost hauntingly so. The air felt still. Lonely, that’s the word. Maybe it was just me.

I knocked on the heavy wooden door. No answer. Of course, I didn’t expect it to open right away, but it felt like no one was even inside.

"Maybe he went somewhe—" Before I could finish, the door creaked open with startling force. I stepped back, heart skipping a beat.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a skull mask that clung tightly to his face like it belonged there. One arm, bare and marked with tattoos that told a story I dared not ask about, rested tensely at his side. He didn’t move much—just enough to study me. His eyes were steel-gray, the kind you don’t forget.

There was something military about him. Not in uniform, but in presence. In the way he stood, how his gaze scanned me like a tactical assessment. A man used to violence. Used to solitude.

He didn’t speak right away. Just watched me, expression unreadable beneath the bone-white grin of the mask. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed, bored, or thinking ten steps ahead of me. Maybe all three.

When he finally opened the door wider, I realized I hadn’t breathed in several seconds. “Surprise” doesn’t even begin to cover what I felt.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, hello! My name is Y/N. Sorry to bother you, but it’s kind of urgent. I’ve got an engine—one that’s pretty complicated. No one back home could fix it, and... that led me here." I tried to sound calm and confident, though the man in the skull mask standing silently in front of me didn’t make it that easy. He looked more like a serial killer than a mechanic.

He didn’t say anything—just listened, eyes never leaving mine. Then he gave a short nod and stepped aside, holding the door open.

Confused, I hesitated, then gave him a weak, awkward smile and turned to grab my cart.

"Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you," he said, stepping closer, his voice low and dry. It wasn’t aggressive, but it didn’t need to be. It felt controlled, like everything else about him. Calculated.

I tried to answer, but my voice came out thin. "It’s okay."

His voice sent shivers down my spine. Maybe it was the suddenness of it. Or maybe it was how deep and rough it sounded. I hadn’t expected him to speak at all.

I couldn’t stop staring at the mask. At his silence.

He didn’t rush. Just took the cart like it weighed nothing and held the door with a nod, as if to say Move. I tried to make sense of what was happening. I snapped back to reality and hurried inside the windmill.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

After helping her up, he went to retrieve his satchel full of medicinal supplies. He'd increased his supply once he got his bit of magic. After learning what they had about Lyra, he knew it was important now more than ever to clean any wounds before healing them.

"I'll have to look at that one first. Here, let's sit." Leading her to the table, he got what was needed. Once her sleeves were cut away, he got to work.

Nodding, he cleaned out the deepest one. "You hit it on the head, that's exactly their purpose. If he stays here, in Berk, that won't be too useful. Though our winters can get intense... I'm willing to bet that wound he had on his paw was from a claw as well."

Her second question made him pause for a moment. "It's likely. The scales would protect the mothers from injuries from their hatchlings claws..." Hm. He had an idea. But first...

With the wounds clean, he hovered a hand over them, and the cuts knit themselves back together, her skin healing seamlessly.

Hiccup grinned, looking up at his sister. "I don't think I'll ever get over how cool this is... Astrid has certainly appreciated it as well. I can get rid of any soreness she feels in her muscles after training." He also used his healing on Zephyr as well, when her stomach was upset.

It was a gift, and one he wouldn't hold back from using to help his family. Only once so far did he use so much that it brought the ache in his leg back, but it was well worth it. Gobber had two missing limbs, which meant double the phantom pain. Hiccup stealthily removed that pain from Gobber, and was ready to pay that price for his old mentor.

Putting the supplies back into the satchel, he held up a hand. "I may have something that can be a temporary solution..." He then began to remove the lower arm pieces of his armor, continuing to speak as he did so, "I can make you a pair like my own. Thick enough leather is sure to protect you from Howell's claws. Try them on, see what adjustments need to be made."

"I have some spare pieces, so it wouldn't take long to make."

Kiara hung the bloodvine in the kitchen for it to dry. Four long strands were all she was able to find in the snowy mountains. The rich dark red vine was easy to find once she was on the right area. But that wasn’t the only thing she found.

The fae returned to the living area. On the chair a bundle of blankets warmed by the fire. And amongst those blankets was the ice fae’s newest problem. She had no idea what to do with it. Kiara had no clue about these things!

…But Hiccup did. Realizing the chief would be the best to deal with this, Kiara picked the bundle up and headed out into Berk. Finding Hiccup was much easier now. Reaching out with her magic she could sense his signature. Luck was on her side, instead of the forge it seemed Hiccup was at his home. Knocking on his door, she adjusted the heavy bundle.

“Hiccup? I need your assistance with something.” The blankets shifted in her arms and the fae struggled to hold them.

~ @dragonmasterhiccup

[songoftrillium]

What are your thoughts on the non-werewolf shapeshifters, do you use them often in your Werewolf games?

I love the changing breeds, with some caveats. When I began Storytelling, I had to set boundaries with players because there are some incredibly good fera out there, but also ones that can straight up break the game or are extremely incompatible with the Garou or chronicle. This isn't an issue when running an exclusively all-fera game, but it's not common that I or other STs typically run an all-fera game. The second point on compatibility is where one should audit a changing breed for use in their game:

Does this changing breed demographically make sense to be here?

Does their presence serve a narrative purpose?

Do their mechanics mesh well with Garou? Can they be made to mesh well?

Do they have the agency to cooperate with the Garou and vice versa?

If the answer to all four questions is 'yes,' then the fera can absolutely work, and work well in your setting (with caveats.) W:tE features many fera such as the Balam, which on the surface wouldn't fit in the Pacific Northwest. However, there are many large Latine populations that can be found here, both in terms of those living close to cities permanently and migrant workers. Where things concern those populations, then it makes total sense for there to be the occasional two-heart among them alongside their culture, Kin and Killi alike.

For reasons like the above, you're gonna find several Fera in Werewolf: the Essentials from the get-go, forming part of the Dawn Tribes representing all of the Indigenous shapeshifters that persisted in the Americas since the Impergium:

Balam

Corax

Gurahl

Mokolé

Nuwisha

Pumonca

Qualmi

There are some game elements I'm not fond of that are changing. For simplicity, cases of fera are gonna be represented as singular entities. There's just one kind of Gurahl, one kind of Mokolé, and the Bastet are represented singularly now. They are basically placed hierarchically as extensions of Dawn Tribe culture, in which they see each other as all spirit cousins under Gaia. Historical precedent has forced them to work with each other for the first time since the War of Rage and find themselves better protected by each other than on their own. This goes as far as to alter the game language, adopting the term 'Killi' from the Bastet book to refer to (all shapeshifters), rather than merely 'Fera', which speaks of the changing breeds as an entity separate from (or less than) the Garou.

I did away with the second War of Rage because it narratively makes very little sense (and the elements that can be considered critical can just be rolled into the first.) The handling of gifts is more generalized now through implementing spirit affinities, and grouping gifts under the spirits that teach them. This significantly reduces page count (no more than 9 different kinds of Hare's Leap.) Renown tracks are being made more fluid on the character sheet so you can play any changing breed on the same sheet, and other small world changes can be made that create a narratively compelling reason for multiple Killi to exist in the game.

In short, they can work, but it takes nuance to do well. And I encourage just that; write your chronicles with nuance. The Changing breeds, if used smartly, can add a ton of narrative color to a Chronicle and are worth exploring, particularly when representing cultural diversity in a setting.

[bbapplegirlie]

Love and Deep-lace

A Love and Deepspace Caleb Fic

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

NSFW! ADULTS ONLY!

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

Author’s Note: (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) Hello, fellow men-in-lingerie enjoyers, this one is for you. You have good taste. This isn’t supposed to be canon or anything, just a silly moment I couldn’t stop thinking of. It took a couple of weeks to finish because writing it made me, ah, too distracted to keep writing for long periods of time… anyway, happy belated birthday Caleb, this whole month is yours as far as I’m concerned!!!

Content Tags: Smut, Caleb in a slutty little thong, what else can I say? IT’S CALEB IN A SLUTTY LITTLE THONG, fem-dommy MC, subby-puppyboy Caleb, use of ma’am, MC gets a lil' rough with Caleb

Length & Status: Roughly 6.9k words, completed one-shot

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

“Okay, you have twenty minutes to get ready!” you chirped as you guided Caleb to his bedroom. “I picked out a new outfit for you already. It’s in the gift box in the closet—the one on top. Hurry up and get dressed, I don’t want to be late!”

“Yeah, yeah, because I’m famously the one that takes forever to get ready,” Caleb said with a snort as you shut the door to his room, leaving him alone to get dressed. You normally would’ve verbally sparred with him over that comment, especially since it was coming from the guy who spent a considerable amount of time combing his eyebrows each morning… but that probably really would make you late, so you went to wait in the living room instead. 

Besides, it was Caleb’s birthday. As much as you wanted to tease him, you wanted even more for this day to be perfect. You wanted to spoil him, just as he had spoiled you all these years.

The outfit you got for him was tailor-made from the finest, silkiest fabrics; you’d customized it yourself with an airplane broach on the lapel, and even added delicate contrail embroidery flowing from the plane’s wings. You were a teeny bit concerned that it might be too tight after you’d heard his AI assistant make note of his increased chest circumference earlier, but… maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing? You were a sucker for the way Caleb’s muscles strained at the confines of his clothing.

No, a little tightness wouldn’t hurt, you thought smugly.

The gifts didn’t stop at just the outfit. You also got him a few model kits, some paper lanterns and string lights to brighten up his house in Skyhaven, tickets to one of his favorite bands playing back in Linkon, a new comfy sweatshirt to replace the one you’d stolen from him and had no intentions of giving back, and a signed deluxe set of his favorite mecha manga series. There were tins of his favorite hard candies, a variety of snacks from all over the world, a big pack of artisanal apple ciders, and even a cake that you’d baked yourself. You’d gone all out this year.

And most importantly… there was that gift that could technically be considered a gift for yourself, but it was still for him all the same. The thought of that one made you a little nervous to think about. You weren’t sure if he would like it, or if it would be too presumptuous. 

But you had a long day of fun plans ahead of you before you would have to worry about that, so you opted not to think about it for now.

“Um… pips, there’s a lot of gift boxes in here—” you heard Caleb’s muffled and slightly confused voice call out from beyond the bedroom door. 

“Just the top one, Caleb! The other ones are for later. No peeking!” you shouted back. You wondered if maybe you should’ve separated the birthday outfit from the rest of them to avoid tempting him into ruining the other surprises, but it was too late now.

“Uh. Well. Y/N, are you sure?” his voice had gone a little reedy, a little thin.

“Yes, I’m sure, Caleb. What happened to you being the one who gets ready quickly, huh? Hurry up!”

Little did you know…

°✧♡✧°

Does she really want me to wear… this? 

Caleb stood before the closet, wide-eyed and mouth agape, a drop of perspiration starting to bead at his hairline. He’d stripped out of the colonel’s uniform and opened the box as instructed, expecting to find an outfit that would match the pretty blue dress you were wearing.

But the actual contents of the box left him choking on nothing but his own breath.

He could only assume that there was some kind of mix-up, that this was supposed to be for you. It was… small. Too small for his own hulking build, at least. Something so delicate surely wouldn’t last long on someone built like him. He recognized the size on the tags as your measurements—he'd stolen enough of your undergarments to know exactly which sizes you bought from different brands. 

Not only was it not his size, but it was, well… a lacy lingerie set, something that he had never expressed interest in wearing before, regardless of whether it was his size or not.

He gingerly picked up the sheer bralette first, taking in how exquisitely it had been made. It was all-black silk woven into the most beautiful lace, the pattern depicting blooming roses and their thorns in fine detail. It would give next to no coverage. There was no lining or padding, just the loosely woven lace that would allow more than just a glimpse of everything it was supposed to ‘cover’. The bottom edge was scalloped, and the back was an intricate weave of straps crisscrossing each other, adorned in little bows. There were even more crisscrossing straps hanging from underneath the bralette; Caleb wasn’t entirely sure where those were supposed to sit on the body. Was lingerie always so… complicated?

The bottoms—little more than a thong, really—were just as lacy and strappy. There was a series of hip cutouts on each side, as well as a v-shaped cutout where the underwear would rest on the pubic bone. That cutout framed additional crisscrossing straps and another little bow with a golden bell on it that made the most delicate twinkling sound when he flicked it.

Looking at the bell was giving Caleb far too many distracting thoughts. 

Well, everything about the set was giving him distracting thoughts.

He cleared his throat, set the lingerie back in the box, and tried desperately to tame his racing mind.

You must have planned on putting this on for him as a birthday gift later and accidentally mixed it in with the other boxes. Caleb was absolutely enthralled at the thought, though perhaps a little worried that he wouldn’t be able to focus the rest of the day knowing what was in store for him. The right thing to do would be to put the lingerie back in the closet, find the correct box, and pretend he hadn’t seen anything at all. He would hate to make you feel like he’d ruined your surprise.

But what if the next box wasn’t the right one, either? You’d told him quite emphatically that there was no peeking allowed, and he’d already ruined one of the surprises…

Caleb picked up the lingerie again.

An impish smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he decided on a course of action. He’d follow your instructions, verbatim, to a T. It might damage the gift you’d planned on giving him later, but… the best part of that gift came after taking it off anyway, right? 

°✧♡✧°

“Caleb, seriously, how long does it take to put on a shirt and some pants—” you called, only for Caleb’s bedroom door to finally creak open.

“I’m all set!” he replied, perhaps a little too gleefully. 

Ugh, finally, you thought as you reached for your purse on the coffee table. You had to leave, like, right now if you wanted to get there on time. You didn’t even spare a glance at Caleb as you made your way to the front door.

“Can you make sure to fly us, like, fast? We have to make up for lost time. But don't go too fast, because we’re about to eat and I don’t want to get sick,” you rambled, oblivious to Caleb’s shenanigans behind you. “And no little stunts like you pulled last time, that little loopty-loop made me sick for days—”

“Sure thing, pips. Hey, are you sure the dress code isn’t too strict where we’re going?”

“Uh, duh, Caleb, you’ve been there before. It’s not that fancy. Besides, isn’t what I picked out for you pretty formal anyway?” you asked as you reached for the doorknob.

“Ah, trends must have changed a bit while I’ve been away. Is this considered formal down in Linkon now?”

You furrowed your brows as you pushed the door open. Was that his subtle way of telling you he didn’t like the outfit you’d picked? Maybe being around all those suits and uniforms in the Farspace Fleet had elevated what he considered formal nowadays. Anything less than full military regalia must’ve felt casual to him at this point. “You’ll be fine, Caleb, just hurry up.”

“Brr!” Caleb made an exaggerated shivering noise as the wind from outside pushed through the open doorway. It was summer, but being so high up here in Skyhaven, it was always a little chilly. “Hold on a sec, I think I’ll need a coat to keep warm, I’ll be right back.”

“Caleb, there was a coat in that damn box, what were you doing that whole—”

And finally, you turned to look at him. Any further words promptly died on your lips.

“Fashion must’ve really changed if this is considered a coat now,” he said, flashing that devilish smile at you, all bright teeth and edges sharp enough to cut.

You were too stunned to speak. Too stunned to do anything but shut the front door you had partially opened. What Caleb was wearing now certainly could not be worn to the restaurant, nor anywhere in public.

He’d put your fucking lingerie set on. 

Why the fuck did he look even better in it than you did?

The bralette was stretched impossibly tight across the broad width of his chest, the swell of his pecs filling the cups quite nicely. The decorative straps that webbed out from the bottom of the bralette were pulled just as tight, wrapping around his torso and clinging to the valleys of his rib cage like ivy. Fuck, they framed and accentuated the hard contours of his abs so well. You were struck with the urge to pull each of those stretchy straps and snap them against his skin, to leave little red marks and soothe them with your tongue.

The intensity and fervor of those thoughts nearly knocked you off your feet.

Your eyes trailed lower, low enough to not notice that Caleb’s smile was starting to falter. He’d put it on as a joke—intending to tease you—but it was very clearly not having the effect he’d intended, and now he was wondering if he had made a mistake. The exact words running through his mind were, Is she mad at me for ruining her surprise? Or mad that I’m stretching out her lingerie…?

But that wasn’t what was on your mind. Not at all.

Sure, you were taking note of how tight the lingerie clung to him, but it definitely wasn’t making you angry. The warmth making your cheeks glow red and your core turn molten was a heat much more pleasant than anger. 

You were focused on the frilly upper edge of the bottoms, admiring how the protrusion of his hip bones kept the too-tight lace from laying flush against his skin, leaving enough of a gap between the underwear and his skin for you to peak down into them—

Your eyes shot back up to his face as you finally realized that you had just been standing there silently ogling him. Caleb looked just as embarrassed as you did. His cheeks had grown to an effusive shade of red, and he looked about ready to bolt.

Caleb winced before scrambling to find that teasing smile once again. “You said the top box, right?” he offered with a half-hearted laugh. Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, he chanted internally.

When you didn’t respond for another long moment and only continued to stare at him wide-eyed and befuddled, the fragments of a smile that he had struggled to put together quickly shattered again.

Oops. Maybe I’m not as funny as I think I am… he thought, stepping back to head to the bedroom.

He cleared his throat and self-consciously lifted his hands to cover his crotch. “Ah, well, maybe you could help me find the actual outfit you got for me since the boxes clearly got mixed up.” Another step backward, and he turned partially around, too embarrassed to face you. The movement gave you a tantalizing glimpse of his muscular ass in the thong, forcing a choked sound from your throat that Caleb mistook for disgust. “Y/N… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it was supposed to be a joke, but clearly, this was poor taste—”

It was his obvious shame that finally snapped you out of your entranced state, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him from going anywhere. “I don’t think anything has ever tasted better, Caleb.” The words came out in a messy rush, and you immediately covered your mouth with your hands as you processed your words. Did I really just say that?!

It was Caleb’s turn to be shocked into silence.

“Oh, fuck. Pretend I didn’t say anything,” you rushed to add, lifting your hands further to cover your eyes, too. Well, this was just humiliating.

The physical aspect of you and Caleb’s relationship had only just begun to heat up, and though you had planned on taking things to the next level tonight, you were worried you’d just ruined it by admitting you were turned on by him wearing your lingerie.

He was going to think you were weird.

“Um… here… sorry, Caleb, let me go find you the right box…”

You turned to escape the presence of the lace-adorned sex god before you, but it was Caleb’s turn to stop you this time. He grabbed your wrist, halting you in your tracks, and also used a touch of his evol to spin you back towards him.

You were much closer than you had been before.

“Uh-uh, no way, pipsqueak,” Caleb said, and fuck, that teasing, mocking, coquettish tone of voice was back in full force. You’d revealed your weakness, and there would be no stopping him now. “So this set really was for me, huh? You know, as much as I appreciate you letting me know your fantasies, I’m not sure if a restaurant is the right place to explore this particular fantasy.” He chuckled one of those deep, rumbling chuckles that you swore you could feel in your own chest. “Unless, of course, the voyeurism is part of the appeal for you—”

“Caleb!” Your cheeks were going to melt right off of your face. You refused to make eye contact with him and instead kept your gaze straight ahead. But unfortunately—or fortunately, really—that was the perfect height to take in all the floral details of the lacy design hugging his pecs and nipples. It only made you blush harder. “It was an accident, I swear! Ugh, you aren’t going to let this go, are you…”

He continued to laugh, the motion making his pecs jiggle underneath the bralette. His grip on your wrist traveled up your arm before moving to your waist. He took a couple of careful steps forward, using his other hand to protect the back of your head as he backed you into the wall.

And with another touch of evol, he guided your chin to look up at him. His cheeks were red—just as blazingly red as yours—but whatever pleasure he was getting out of seeing you so flustered was overriding the part of him that felt embarrassed. His smile was magnetic, his purple eyes twinkling with light like stars sparking to life during a sunset. “Okay, okay. I’ll let it go if you really want me to. But…” he leaned in close, his lips letting out a gentle ghost of a breath against your cheek. “I’ll be honest, I might have ruined the set by putting it on. It might rip when I take it off… are you sure you don’t want to make the most of it while it's still intact?”

There was a gentle chiming sound. You cocked your head to the side, wondering where the sound was coming from…

Caleb bucked his hips forward, just enough to get the bell to jingle again. Your eyes widened at the realization of what the sound was, and this time when your gaze fell away from him, it wasn’t out of embarrassment.

No, you looked down out of pure hunger to swallow down the sight of his hardening cock pushing against the lace. His cock bobbed like it could feel your gaze as a physical caress on his shaft, chiming that bell with every pulse.

And without much conscious thought, you reached forward, flicking the bell yourself. Caleb let out the smallest little sound, somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. A quick glance at his face revealed something like frustration taking over his expression, his eyebrows pulling together and his lips parting on a breath. Seeing your fingertips come so close to him without actually touching him was a devastating sort of torture.

You decided to ease some of that frustration for him, placing your entire palm over his lace-caged cock, cupping him gently as you leaned in to whisper a threat in his ear. “This set wasn’t cheap, Caleb. If you damage it before you’ve even gotten a chance to see it on me, I swear...”

And as if on cue, there was a telltale ripping sound as his cock bobbed once again beneath your hand. The force of his desire couldn’t be contained by the thin lace, an inch-long hole giving way along the petals of one of the lace flowers, just enough to reveal a throbbing vein wrapped along his shaft.

“Woopsie,” Caleb said with a huffing laugh. “Guess you’ll have to punish me then, huh?”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, leaving you suspended in nothing but his gravitational pull. And before you knew what you were even doing, you were grabbing Caleb by the straps of the bralette, tugging him towards the bedroom and throwing him on top of the covers with a rough shove of your hands.

He collapsed onto the bed with an oomph. Sure, Caleb was much bigger and stronger than you; taller, wider, more muscular, his evol completely overwhelming. Even his personality was so big and bright that you always felt like it consistently outshone every other person in the room. But in that moment, he was completely at your mercy, letting you control him fully. You could tell from his pleading puppy dog eyes, parted lips, and the way he rag-dolled onto the bed with no effort to catch himself that he was ready for whatever you had to give him.

The sight of such a devastating weapon of a man splayed out before you… well. It was enough to burn up any and all hesitations.

Why was I worried that he would think I was weird? He’s always just wanted to please me… I should’ve known this would be no different.

You stepped forward, putting a knee on either side of him on the bed, spread far enough that you weren’t touching him; just hovering above him, tantalizingly close. “Oh, Caleb, you poor thing. It almost sounds like you want to be punished,” you said, trying to match that condescendingly sweet and mocking tone he always used with you. It didn’t come naturally at first, but the way his pupils dilated as he absorbed your words spurred you on. You ran a finger along the hem of the bralette, tracing the curve of one pectoral muscle. “Were you trying to provoke me?”

“Maybe,” he said through a panting breath, watching your finger with rapt attention. “What are you going to do about it?”

Your finger trailed lower, following the middle indent of his abs, trailing lower and lower… before finally halting at the bow perched above his erect cock. He tried to buck his hips in an attempt to make contact with that taunting finger, but you lifted your hand and pressed it flat against his rock-hard tummy to keep him pinned to the bed instead. He let out the most pathetic little whimper; and again, you were struck by just how empowering it felt to be given control over a man that absolutely could break free if he wanted to.

“For starters… I don’t think we’ll be making it to your birthday dinner,” you said, leaning down to make sure he felt the breath of your words as well as heard them. “At least not until you can prove you can behave.”

‘Behave’ must’ve been a trigger word for him, because he bucked his hips up again, hard. It was enough that he was able to make contact with the apex of your thighs this time, the solid length of his cock brushing against your increasingly wet center. You gasped before stuffing down any visible signs of your arousal and replacing them with a look of anger; you flicked the tip of Caleb’s nose like you might’ve done to a poorly trained dog. “No, Caleb,” you scolded with a cluck of your tongue, using your other hand to press him back down to the bed. “You don’t move until I say so, got it?”

He nodded vigorously, his panting picking up with another little whimper. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll listen this time. I swear.”

“Mm. We’ll see about that,” you muttered back, and then much to Caleb’s dismay, you stood up from the bed to stand at his feet and look down at him.

You could tell he was fighting not to move. Even though you had just given the order to stay still, he was twitching like it took everything in him not to follow you, to force you to keep close. He bit his lip hard like it was the only thing tethering him to his self-control. You started to pace along the foot of the bed, enjoying the feeling of testing his patience while his throbbing cock tested the restraints of the lingerie.

A long moment passed, but he managed to keep on the bed, only his eyes moving as they followed your pacing steps. It was a good start, but you wanted to push him a little further.

You reached up, untying the bows that made up the straps of your dress slowly, one at a time. As the black ribbons fell down your body, you used your other hand to keep the dress held up. Caleb held his breath as he waited for the reveal.

But just as you dropped the dress, you turned away, only giving him a view of your bare back and the boyshorts that you’d had on underneath the dress. You weren’t wearing a bra since the dress had built-in padding, but Caleb hadn’t earned your tits. Not yet. So you wasted no time in picking up Caleb’s colonel’s coat that he’d discarded on the floor, slipping it on over your shoulders. It was comically large on you, but it did the job of covering most of your body, only revealing the valley between your breasts when you turned back around to face him.

“It’s only fair that I get to wear your clothes if you’re wearing mine, don’t you think?” you said with a smile, bending down to grab the colonel’s hat, too. 

“Yeah, I think so, pips,” Caleb said breathlessly with a lick of his lips as he took in that sliver of your revealed body between the lapels of the coat.

“‘Ma’am.’”

“Huh?” His lusty-eyed gaze flickered back up to yours, startled by your harsh tone.

“‘Ma’am’, pretty boy. You’ll be calling me ‘ma’am’ for the duration of your punishment.”

He swallowed hard, pupils blowing out even more. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

You smiled sweetly at him, a little surprised at how instantly your core reacted to those words, pulsing a hot rhythm in between your thighs. “Good boy,” you said, trying to only appear mildly impressed by his behavior. “Now if I come back over there, can you keep your hands and hips to yourself this time?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, then scooch up, pretty boy. I want you fully on the bed.”

He obeyed, splaying his big, strong body out like a playground for you to play on. With slow, calculated steps, you returned to kneeling on top of him; one knee pressed to either side of his, and this time, you didn’t just hover, but instead settled fully on top of him.

But you didn’t press down against his cock, as tempting as the thought was—instead, you sat on his upper thighs just beneath his cock, close enough to feel the heat of his erection but not close enough to touch. This was just as much a practice in restraint for you as it was for him.

“Now tell me you’re sorry for ruining my gift to you, pretty boy.”

He turned up the dial on the kicked-puppy look, his eyebrows coming together pathetically. “I’m sorry I ripped your lingerie, ma’am. I’ll get you a replacement, I promise. Anything you want.”

Ignoring his pleas for forgiveness, you tapped your finger against your lips. “It makes me wonder if you even want to see me in something like this. Did you not like the set I picked out, Caleb? Is that why you ripped it?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am—er, I mean, no, ma’am! I love it, I swear, please. I want to see it on you. More than anything.”

“More than you want to see it off of me?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him, thriving off his increasingly flustered demeanor. You cocked your head to the side, imitating the overbearing colonel persona that you knew Caleb to be quite practiced at.

“Ngh—no, that’s not what I meant… fuck, pips, I just want you, please.”

“‘Ma’am,’ pretty boy, don’t make me remind you again.”

“Fuck! I’m sorry, ma’am,” he groaned, throwing up a hand to cover his eyes in embarrassment. “You see what you do to me, pi—ma’am? I can’t think. Take pity on me, please.”

You gave him a dark chuckle in response. “Oh, I can see pretty well, Caleb… you’re hard as steel and I’ve barely even touched you. Are you sure you’re not going to cum on the spot if I give you what you want, my pretty birthday boy?”

“Ngh… I’m trying my best not to, I promise. Please, ma’am, just touch me.” His hips bucked again ever so slightly—almost like it was subconscious, instinctual, unable to be stopped.

God, he sounded so pathetic… you decided to give him a pass for that little slip-up of his hips, though, as he immediately stilled himself and corrected his behavior without being told to this time.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he added with a whisper, chest heaving with a shaky breath.

You leaned forward and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, tugging his arm. “Look me in the eyes when you talk to me,” you ordered. He obeyed, letting you reveal his face and amethyst eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his skin shiny with sweat. “How do you want me to touch you, Caleb? Because as far as I can tell, I already am touching you,” you said, nodding down to where your ass was pressed against his lower thighs.

He licked his lips again hungrily. “Please touch my cock, ma’am.” The words were desperate, a prayer for relief.

You didn’t oblige him right away. Instead, you let your eyes run down his body, watching the way the bralette heaved with his chest, the way his perked nipples pressed against the center of two roses in the lace pattern. You took in the way his cock was practically thrashing beneath the crotch of the panties, begging for release as it rung that little bell, before you ultimately shifted further down his legs and farther away from where he wanted you most.

“No,” he gasped out, breathless, only barely keeping himself from reaching out to you.

You raised one eyebrow at him again, as if to say ‘Are you really talking back to me right now?’ He quickly shut his mouth, eyes dropping in deference. “So impatient,” you said with another cluck of your tongue. “And to think I was only scooting down to give myself better access…”

You positioned yourself over his knees and calves, now at the perfect angle to lean down and run your hot, wet tongue along the silky lace adorning his crotch.

“Gah!” he cried out at the first touch, his whole body jolting from the contact before he quickly forced himself to still again. His attention was completely focused on you, eyes wide and unblinking. You intentionally gave the laziest, most languid stroke that you could; slow enough that the saliva on your tongue had time to drip down, coating his caged cock and seeping through the weave of the panties.

Once you’d made it up the full length with your tongue, you sat back up, giving him a questioning look. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? Do you still want to talk back and tell me ‘no’, Caleb? Or do you want more, pretty boy?”

“More, please, ma’am, more,” he said, nearly all traces of control evaporated from his tone. Every few moments, his hips bucked up against the air as if it could deliver the release he needed, before he realized he was moving without permission and stilled himself again.

God, he begged so prettily. You were having so much fun, you wanted to tease him for hours, but maybe it was time to take a little more pity on the birthday boy.

You leaned back down, nothing slow about your tongue now as you lapped at his lacy cock. You took note of each and every little sound coming from his throat and chest; little grunts, moans, whimpers, and wordless pleas that had your own slick soaking through your panties and down your thighs. It was going to get all over Caleb’s uniform, but the thought of him ordering around all those subordinates at work while wearing your wetness on his body was too delectable to care about the mess. Let the stains be a reminder that you were the only one who got to order him around.

You ran the tip of your tongue inside the small rip he’d torn through the thong, tracing the shape of his pulsing vein spiderwebbing across his cock. In your exploration, you found that there was one spot on the head of his cock in particular that brought out the most delicious combination of his mewling and whining sounds, and you focused your tongue there until his whole body was as tense as a tree trunk, ready to split in half under the force of your attention.

His dick was so hard that the flesh looked just as strained as the poor lingerie was. The tip of his swollen cock wasn’t just leaking precum anymore; ‘leak’ was too weak of a word. It was pooling forth from the tip, soaking through the undies, bubbling up through the holes of the lace. It was enough sticky fluid that you wondered if he was actually cumming already. But the moment you lifted your tongue off of him to assess the situation, he let out another desperate, whiny moan, decrying your decision to stop licking him. “Hnnng… please… I need you, please don’t stop.”

As much as you loved the taste of him, the wet heat between your thighs was now battling for your attention. So you didn’t listen to him; you pulled your tongue back into your mouth and sat up instead. Caleb’s eyebrows came together just enough to show his vexation, but he managed to keep quiet this time. That’s a good boy, you thought, smirking at him as you adjusted your position above him.

His look of frustration turned to one of awe in moments as he saw that you were bringing your sopping cunt closer to where he needed you most. And when you sat down fully, pressing your full weight on the shaft of his cock, that awe turned to rapture.

Your mouth dropped open for half of a moment before you regained composure; you were just as overwhelmed by the hot contact of your most sensitive parts as he was. The gentle rocking of your hips came naturally as you chased that pleasure, nothing but the two pairs of your underwear separating you.

The rhythm started slow. You didn’t want to chafe him. But fuck, between his precum and your nectar sliding down your cunt, the fabric was lubricated enough to slide pleasantly between you both. It was the most delicious friction, and that slow rhythm quickly turned to a more fervent, bouncing slide, punctuated with your moans as sparks of ecstasy spread up and down your spine, between your legs, to the tips of your toes, catching fire all over your body.

“Fuck, you’re so—ahh—so fucking wet, pips—”

You leaned down, gripping his face with one hand hard, squishing his cheeks together. “Ah, ah, ah, Caleb, that’s not how you address your superior,” you said, forcing the words through your raspy moans. With your free hand, you pointed at the colonel’s hat still perched upon your head, currently at risk of falling off from your bouncing movements over his thong-clad cock. “Did you forget you’re in trouble, pretty boy?”

He bit down on his lip, choking back something akin to a moan-laced sob as you gave him another punishing slide of your hips. “I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ma’am, please forgive me, I just want to be your good boy. Please!” His words were slightly muffled from the grip you had on his cheeks.

“Hmm…” you hummed, tilting your head to the side in thought as you released your grip on him. You slowed down the rhythm of your hips, as much as it pained you to do so, relishing in the starved sound he made at the loss of the motion. “Since you’re so good at damaging my underwear…” you said, flicking him on the nose again. “Why don’t you be a doll and put that skill to good use now that we actually need it? Maybe I’ll forgive you if you can impress me, Caleb.”

He didn’t waste any time at all.

The thing about provoking a man with complete control over gravity was that the entire axis of your world could shift in the time it took to blink.

With a predatory grace that spoke to Caleb’s absolute strength and mastery of his evol, he bucked you off of his lap and onto the bed. You landed on your back hard and had no time to recover or orient yourself before he pounced on top of you like a leopard on its prey. At some point during the commotion, he’d managed to pry the lapels of the colonel’s coat from your body, exposing your heaving breasts and perked nipples that jiggled with every rough movement of his body on yours. His eyes were fixated on the bouncing flesh like he was making up for all the lost time you had kept them covered.

He caged you in with those broad shoulders of his, his thighs forcing their way between yours and spreading them with a rough push. An inescapable weight pushed down on both of your hands, keeping them pinned to the bed above your head; he was using his evol, keeping one of his hands free so that he could tear your underwear clean off your body. They came off with a loud, gasp-inducing rip, followed by a second, quieter rip as he tore through the rest of his flimsy, half-torn thong. He tossed both pairs to the side, the bell of the lingerie jingling on the way down.

He didn’t give you a warning as he plowed his cock straight into you.

“Ah!” you cried out, all pretenses of you being in control flying out the window as his cock filled you to the brim, stretching you completely with one movement. Your cunt gave practically no resistance with how thoroughly it was soaked. Even with as long, thick, and overwhelming as his cock was, it slid into you to the hilt like there was nowhere else in this universe that it belonged.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he panted through the ferocious pounding of his hips. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I couldn’t take it anymore… please forgive me! I promise I’ll make you feel good, I swear, I promise, I promise, please forgive me, I just need you so fucking bad, I can't help myself…”

And maybe you would’ve tried to regain control of the situation, to scold him for acting out so boldly, if you weren’t so utterly and instantly cock-drunk on the way he thrust in and out of you like a demon had possessed him. 

The only sounds leaving your lips were ones of primal, feral need. He leaned down to lick those sounds of pleasure off your lips like a puppy lapping up a meal.

The combination of all those hot, wet places meeting was too much—his cock in your cunt, his tongue on yours, his sweat-slicked skin pressing you down into the mattress, his pelvis grinding into your clit each time he bottomed out inside of you, the tingling warmth of his evol pinning your hands above your head— 

“Please cum on me,” he begged the words directly between your lips. His pleas tasted so sweet, sweeter than the ripest fruit. “Please, ma’am, I want to feel you cum on me, cum on me, please—”

And this time, you were the one to obey, though you didn’t have much choice in the matter with the way he drove into you so relentlessly. You couldn’t have held that orgasm back even if you tried.

“Ngh—oh, baby, fuck, Caleb, ah!”

Your words came out in a jumbled mess as your body seized up around him. It was a flood, a storm, a tsunami of ecstasy that churned in your belly and raced to your core, throbbing and pulsing and devastating as it crashed against the shores where your bodies met. You went cross-eyed with the intensity of it, your mouth falling open, your back arching, your toes squeezing and curling like there was anything they could hold onto to keep you from falling off this sheer mountain of pleasure. 

Caleb took your open mouth as an invitation, plunging his tongue deep to drink up every orgasm-infused breath that you panted out. He moaned into your mouth, loud and filthy and unashamed as your orgasming pussy squeezed out his own climax.

"Yes, yes, yes," he chanted, words going high in pitch, body shuddering. "Ngh... oh fuck, fuck, fuck...."

You could feel every spurt of cum against your inner walls. Every twitching throb, every heated pulse, every little thrust of his hips as he powered your orgasms… dear god, how did he have so much cum in him? It just kept coming; hot, thick, gooey ropes plugging you up, filling you, making you feel heavier, like it was altering the gravity in this room. It was lasting an eternity, a damn waterfall of cum plunging into you, and you never wanted it to stop.

An era had passed when his cock finally started to slow its pulsing climax. But you weren’t done, addicted to the feeling; you bucked your core up against him to take over his faltering thrusts, trying to eke out every last bit of pleasure that you could. That motion alone was enough to trigger an aftershock orgasm in both of you, something you weren’t even sure could happen before this moment. Caleb was crying out your name in between strained, pathetic whimpering sounds like you were draining the damn life from him along with his cum, and your pussy clenched its hardest pulse of pleasure that it had yet, almost painful in its intensity.

When there was not a single drop left of cum in his body, he collapsed atop you, burying his face in your neck. He was so heavy, but you loved it, loved the feeling of him practically suffocating you with all that muscle mass. He lapped up some of the sweat as it dripped down your throat like it would quench his thirst. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted in between panting breaths. “You’re so perfect. Thank you, Y/N, I need this forever…”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathless chuckle at how pleading and desperate he still sounded, even after what you could only assume was the longest orgasm he’d ever had in his life. You reached up, one hand stroking through his hair while the other traced the hem of the sweat-slicked bralette that was still hanging on for dear life around his torso. It took a long moment to regain your ability to speak.

“You’re going to be spending a lot of money replacing my underwear if you really need this forever, Caleb,” you teased, knowing that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

He leaned back enough to flash you a bright smile, his cheeks still flushed so prettily and his sunset eyes blinking sleepily with exhaustion.

“Maybe next time you can help me pick my own lingerie that fits, then, pips,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your swollen lips.

°˖✧~*♡*~✧˖°

[peachhcs]

a perfect birthday

figure skater x macklin celebrini au (blaire + mack)

summary: macklin made sure to return the favor and gave blaire the best 19th birthday she could've asked for

words: 3k 

author's note: y'all i'm so bad i said i was going to post this yesterday and then i never did. here's mack taking blaire around for her birthday and surprising her with little gifts throughout the day :) can be read as a part 2 to the social media fic or just a stand alone (longest fic in this au??)

au masterlist | part one

the day started similarly to how mack's birthday began. blaire woke up to a hundred texts from mack and friends wishing her a happy birthday. she smiled brightly, quickly responding to everyone before rushing out of bed to get ready. it was her idea for her and mack to go golfing bright and early as hard as it was to believe. blaire never minded watching her boyfriend hit a little ball around a course for two hours because that just meant she got to spend more time with him. plus, what else was she going to do on her birthday? mack promised a full day of fun, so she excited to see what he came up with. 

after braiding her hair back, the dirty blonde packed her small bag with snacks, water, and a few different sharpies where she would sit and decorate mack's golf balls for him so he had something pretty to look at. the boy pulled up to her apartment promptly at 8 knowing getting there early meant they'd beat the rush later in the day. blaire ran down the steps, emerging from the front doors with a big smile on her face when she saw the boy already waiting against his car for her. 

"happy birthday, love," macklin exclaimed while lifting her into his arms for a hug. the girl was grinning from ear to ear, "thank you! i can't believe we only have one more year left of being a teenager now," blaire said, pinching his cheeks when he set her down. his face reddened a bit, but he didn't pull away from her. 

"how do you feel? older? wiser?" 

"i guess so. i hope you brought a lot of golf balls because i brought a lot of sharpies," blaire giggled as she climbed into the car and mack met her on the other side. 

"i have a bag full, i'll let you take them when we get there. first though, i stopped and got you your coffee and a birthday donut. boston cream," the boy revealed the hidden dunkin bag and blaire's eyes widened. 

"you remembered! thank you," she happily took them and made sure to press a soft kiss to his cheek. 

"of course i did. one of many birthday treats." 

blaire began munching on the donut while mack got them back onto the road. she had never been more content before, sitting in her pro hockey player boyfriend’s car with a donut and coffee that he knew so well he didn't even need to ask what her order was. how much better could it get? not to mention, the said hockey player was her best friend. 

the drive to the local course was short and sweet. macklin had a membership, so all he had to do was to flash his card at the window and they were in without any problems. the parking lot was fairly empty still, so that meant they'd get pretty far before more people began showing up for the day. 

"the goal is 11," mack hummed, glancing at the clock on the dash. 

"that would be a new record for you," the dirty blonde laughed. any other time she tagged along with mack and will or maybe a few other guys, it felt like they were there for a whole day. three hours would be impressive for him. 

"well, it's just me and you watching, so i think i can move it along," the boy grinned. blaire leaned forward to peck his lips before jumping out of the car, but mack stopped her. "wait, i have a gift for you." 

"for me? you spending the whole day with me is enough of a gift," she rolled her eyes, but was secretly eager when she watched him pull out a rather large box from under his seat. he was just full of surprises. 

mack only shrugged as he passed the blue box over. the figure skater eyed him, but quickly tore into the bow and wasted no time pulling the top off. he must've gotten better at wrapping in their time apart. inside, blaire laid her eyes on a beautiful pair of brown leg warmers and a vest to wear over her compression shirts because she always told mack how convenient and more breathable they were. 

"mack. you got all of this for me?" she was shocked and in awe. 

the brunette blushed, "you kept telling me how you were dying to get a new one because your vest was so old. i saw those while also shopping for the vest and thought you would like them." 

"i love them. thank you. you're so sweet," she jumped across the center to engulf him in her arms. macklin laughed, squeezing her tight before letting her go again. "i can't wait to wear this now. i love you," blaire kissed him again and he loved seeing that wide smile on her lips, especially when he was the cause. 

coming second to physical touch, mack was definitely a gift giver. he loved surprising blaire with little things whenever he saw her, so he was glad she liked the gifts he picked out. he couldn't wait to give her more a little later because now, it was time to golf and if mack wanted to be done by 11, he needed to start now. 

luckily, it wasn't too hot out, so the couple enjoyed the drive over the greens. blaire had her usual spot in the passenger side where she had a bagful of mack's golf balls to draw on. she was becoming quite creative with the designs after getting inspiration on tiktok and pinterest. the brunette loved getting to look over and see her sitting all pretty in the cart with her tongue stuck out while focusing. this was his idea of a perfect life. 

sometimes blaire would get out and hold the flag while mack putted into the hole. her little happy jumps anytime he did it one try always made him smile. he even started getting a kiss each time he putt the ball in one. 

they were on the 15th hole when blaire got a text from carter. she smiled seeing the happy birthday text with a bunch of different emojis, quickly responding back. 

carter 

happy birthday loser!!! 🤪🥳🤓😱🙉🎂🎈

blaire

thank you!!! miss u wish we were celebrating together

carter 

thinking of u bc i got a boston cream donut this morning

blaire

me too!!! mack got me one :) 

carter 

hope ur day is awesome thanks for being a great big sister

his last message warmed her heart. it was hard to be away from him since this was the first birthday in awhile that she wasn't at home, but they both knew she was having a lot more fun in san jose. 

blaire half expected a message from mason, but she also knew it was a long shot to think he would text her. she hadn't talked to him in almost two months. he was off somewhere in ireland and the last time she saw him once when the whole family dropped him off at the airport. it was sad, but a bit awkward since he hardly even gave a goodbye. 

"hey, you okay?" mack walked over to the cart after hitting his ball. he noticed the long expression her face. 

"hmm? i'm good," blaire snapped out her thoughts, but the rookie knew her better than that. he just gave her a look instead of saying anything, "carter texted me happy birthday and it made me smile, but then i was thinking about mason." 

"do you think he'll text you?" mack wondered as he climbed back into the cart.

"probably not, but it's fine, i don't really care." 

the boy put his hand on her thigh as a way to tell her he was there for her without saying it. sometimes the actions meant more than the words and blaire appreciated it. she squeezed his hand with her own and cuddled into him as they drove to where his ball landed. 

"can i see your designs so far?" mack wondered before he got out again. blaire eagerly dug into the bag where every single one of them was decorated in a different design and color. 

"this one's my favorite," she showed him the one where she drew the shark's mascot and then around the ball was teal and gray zig-zagged lines. 

"woah, this is awesome. i may have to display this one," the brunette grinned. 

"you can look through all of them. i think they came out really well," blaire giggled. the hockey player leaned forward to plant a big kiss to her lips. all she did was giggle and push him away so he could finish the hole. 

by the time they were done, it was closer to 11:30. "hey, i was close," the boy argued. 

"maybe it would've taken you less time if you didn't kiss me after every hole," blaire teased a bit and she liked how her boyfriend's face reddened a deep shade of crimson. 

"hey. they're birthday kisses. here's one more for 19," and he leaned forward again. the figure skater was not complaining though. she loved having mack's lips on hers. they were always so soft and tasted like whatever soda he was drinking. 

"when we get back we can change and then i am taking you out to lunch," mack revealed their next plans. 

"ooh, where?" 

"it's a surprise," he hummed as they pulled out of the parking lot which had become a lot more busier as the day persisted. 

because mack thought ahead, he packed different clothes so he didn't have to drive all the way back to his place when they got back to blaire's apartment. he followed her inside where she warned him that it was a bit of mess because she hadn't done dishes since yesterday afternoon and she stressed doing laundry last night. the boy didn't care though, eagerly running to the bathroom to pee while blaire went to find a new outfit for lunch. 

she decided on pink, babydoll tank top and a jean skirt, a sorority staple during recruitment season. mack reemerged from the bathroom in a nice blue button down a black shorts. he smiled when he saw blaire's outfit. 

"you look pretty," he hummed, clasping his hands around her waist. 

"you look pretty too. do i need anything else?" she wondered and he shook his head. 

"nope, just your pretty little self," he kissed her again before they headed back out. 

mack drove them into downtown all while blaire just kept trying to guess where the reservation was. the hockey player had a great poker face though and never cracked until he pulled into a parking space in front of mastro's steakhouse which was one of blaire's favorites. they went here when they first started dating again and the girl had never stopped talking about it since. 

"oh shit! i should have known. i'm so excited and so hungry," the girl exclaimed. mack took her hand and they walked in together, greeted with a smile by the hostess. 

"for celebrini?" mack said and she nodded. "follow me." 

the hostess took the couple around the corner to one of the tables by the window. blaire was too caught up in the ambiance and decorations of the place that she didn't see two people are sitting at the table with their faces covered by menu's. mack nudged her arm, smiling a bit mischievously when blaire looked at them and then at the table. she grew confused until the two slowly peeked their eyes over the menu and blaire quickly recognized them. 

"holy shit. no way!!" the dirty blonde jumped up in excitement. samy and will completely showed their faces, samy getting up to hug her. 

"happy birthday, blaire!!" 

"what are you doing here?" the figure skater was in so much shock. 

"a little birdie told us it was your birthday," samy laughed and let her hug will too. 

"i was just thinking about how excited i am to be at the lake house for the first time next month. what a nice surprise," blaire beamed and quickly found her seat. 

"so how's your birthday been so far?" samy wondered. 

"it's been good. mack and i went golfing this morning," she smiled at her boyfriend beside her. 

"aw did you have to drag her out?" will teased. 

"no, she actually wanted to go," mack said. 

"that's a first. samy hates going golfing with me," will looked at his girl and she rolled her eyes. 

"i do not. i wouldn't go every day, but i will go occasionally." 

"doesn't she whip your ass at it?" macklin raised his eyebrow and will flushed. 

"no. she doesn't. she does do very well though," the blonde defended himself while everyone laughed. 

the four took turns catching up with one another. samy filled blaire in on the past semester while blaire talked about her own too. the boys didn't have much to say besides hockey, but it wasn't much new news from them. they just happily listened to their girlfriends yap away about this, that, and the other. 

"so how's everyone else been? gabe? emma? julianne? ryan? hannah?" blaire still hadn't officially met all of them yet, only talking over random instagram comments, but she was excited to formally meet them in michigan. 

"they're good. uh, let's see...ryan's in mass with julie. hannah's in michigan and long island with james—oh, she's gonna be here for the draft on friday, so maybe we can all get together. gabe and emma are back together, so that's good," samy explained each of their friends' whereabouts this summer. 

"really? oh, i'm glad. i felt so bad," blaire frowned. 

"yeah, they're good now," samy smiled. 

"gabo was classy with it, don't worry. he took her on a sunset dinner cruise," will chuckled. 

"damn, he's already putting that league money to use," the boys shared a laugh at the joke. 

"wow, i can't believe it's already draft season again. do i know anyone who's in?" blaire wondered. 

"james hagens, hannah's boyfriend, is. uhh, matt schaefer but i don't really know him. michael misa.." samy hummed. 

"i've heard all of those names i think. that's exciting," blaire nodded. 

"dude, that schaefer kid is good. the islanders will be getting a good one. they think haggy's going philly," will informed his knowledge. 

"dude, i know. some tough competition. philly would be good for hags, i could see that," mack nodded in agreement. blaire wasn't that knowledgeable in hockey, so she looked at samy for help on the lingo the boys were using. the brunette chuckled and explained what blaire didn't understand. 

the rest of lunch went well. the four talked about everything they had missed while being apart and at the end, samy promised they'd get together again before she went back to michigan with will. blaire loved how inseparable the older couple was and how they always went where the other was when they didn't have other obligations going on. she hoped her and mack could become like them. 

"sooo?" the young rookie wondered when they got back into the car. 

"best surprise ever. that was so fun," the dirty blonde beamed. 

"they thought it would be fun to surprise you since they were already gonna be in town for the draft this weekend. samy was all for it when i brought the idea up," mack explained. 

"thank you, i love getting to hang out with them. they're so..mom and dad already you know? like i can't wait for their wedding," that made the two laugh.

"yeah, tell me about it." 

the couple was tired after such a big lunch, so they headed back to blaire's apartment for some much needed rest after getting up so early. mack apparently had another gift up his sleeve when he revealed another box once they were inside. 

"what is this? you didn't get me something else. you just paid for my lunch," the girl laughed as she became curious as to what else her boyfriend could've gotten her. she was just being spoiled today. 

"i think you'll like it," the boy hummed and watched with a smile as she unwrapped the mystery. 

one thing about blaire was that she was a huge reader. she loved to read in her free time and mack really loved that about her, especially when all she talked about was the latest book she'd been reading, so mack got her the throne of glass book series she'd been raving about and dying to read, she just hadn't made it to the book store yet. when the wrapping flew off blaire's eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the entire series sitting in her lap. 

"oh my god you didn't!" she looked over at her boyfriend in surprise. 

"you kept telling me how much you wanted to read the series, so i got it for you so you don't have to get it now," the boy smiled. 

"i love you, i love you, i love you. you know me so well," she jumped up to kiss him. 

the girl couldn't have asked for a better birthday because she got to spend it with the one person who knew her better than anyone. they changed into more comfortable clothes and blaire immediately settled onto the couch to start reading the first book. she never needed a huge party or big gifts, just something easy and simple like laying on the couch with mack at her side as he dozed off for a nap after spending the whole morning golfing 18 holes by himself. 

blaire was tight in his hold and she giggled when she heard soft snores falling from his lips so quickly. it never took long for him to crash. she gently kissed his forehead, whispering a soft thank you before spending the rest of her birthday in his arms reading. 

how could it get better? 

[lunarruled]

God she hoped whoever was injured wasn't still in the area or even alive. Just like animals people could be very dangerous when they were hurt and afraid. The last thing Kyleigh wanted was a run in with someone else. She was used to being with Magna, to have to go through that again was just too much damn work. And if the two of them were eventually going to go their own way then what was the point of getting to know another? Either way if anyone living was nearby they would deal with that situation if they came upon it. Magna was right though, no one was getting far without a vehicle these days. One that ran and actually had gas was like finding the cure for whatever this virus was, so if there was one in that garage Kyleigh was not going to let it just sit there.

Coming to that old couple's bedroom was a bit of a disappointment, but Kyleigh had told herself not to get her hopes up about it. So far the house had gifted them with a lot of things they needed, she didn't want to get greedy. She did find a pair of old house shoes she grabbed just in case and a blanket. Not that she needed it, but if it did get chilly she would have to look the part so Magna didn't get suspicious of her. There was still so much that neither one of them knew about each other, one big thing that Kyleigh would rather keep to herself as long as she could. Her eyes did land on the many books that were in the room, drawing her over towards them. Normally she would scoop up as many as she could, read them to pass the time since there was nothing else to do. But this time around she had to just leave them there which did make her a bit sad. A few of them would have been very informative but Kyleigh was pretty sure she would have the chance to find more at some point. Magna announcing that she had found keys snapped the half lycan out of her own thoughts, a sly smile crossing her lips for a second. If all went well they wouldn't have to walk back to their place with all the new shit they found.

"There's a couple ways we could do that. If there's a door from the house to the garage we can just break that open, a good kick should do it. If we have to go outside we can see if we can lift the door from there. Usually if they have a handle on the door it means there's a lock that we can pick. That also puts us in more danger since it's out in the open, so let's see if we can find that first option."

Heading out of the bedroom the pair found themselves back in the small hallway that led to the rest of the house they had already checked out. There was a door at the end that Kyleigh figured led to the back yard, which she did not want to open for all the obvious reasons. There was another that turned out to be just a small closet with a few jackets and some random things on the floor. Probably one that they kept their coats and things in for when they were leaving the house. She wondered if they went to church every Sunday. Or went out once a week for groceries. If they had kids and grandchildren that came over for visits and holidays. Of course those thoughts made her heart ache. The family probably had no idea that they were dead now, maybe they never got the chance to look for them, to say that final goodbye. Clearing her throat Kyleigh pushed on towards the end of the hall, but no more doors were there to open.

"Alright well they don't have a door that goes to the garage from inside. But I have seen houses that have one through the back yard. We could go out there and see, might be safer than the front of the house. What do you think?"

If there were any of the dead in the back yard they would be easier to take care of and less likely to attract more. And if herself and Magna could get into the garage that way it would be easier for them to open it up and get the car out.

Kyleigh's theory made sense. Maybe by the time they had finished patching themselves up, they heard that old couple banging on the door and decided to leave rather than fight them. The safer choice, two of them at once was just too much if they were right behind a door, especially if you had an injury. "They could've left through the window right here. Maybe they're still nearby. If they're still alive. You don't make it far without a vehicle."

That was a big if. Magna had seen people leave this world so ridiculously quickly, she was already counting on them being dead, anyway. She's been in entire groups just a while ago, entire groups that had succumbed to the undead.

Their next room, the old couple's bedroom, hadn't been as much of a gold mine. Well.. that was the law of averages, wasn't it? Unsurprisingly, it didn't have any food, nor any hygiene products like the bathroom had. Nothing but clothes too small for Magna, except for a sweater she took with her in case it ever got cold outside and some underwear and socks. She'd been hoping to find a firearm somewhere, but she wasn't surprised those two didn't have that kind of stuff. Seeing that the rest of the objects within the room were nothing but decor or books (one about foraging mushrooms, but Magna didn't bother to check the bookshelf), she was about to leave the place, but the sight of two wallets inside the bedside table drawer made her want to check its contents. Money was useless nowadays, but something within her just wanted her to know those people's names. Gladys and Otto McCluskey. She couldn't help but almost flinch when she saw their organ donor cards. The universe had a cruel sense of humor. They seemed to have been good people, judging by some of the photos in their bedroom showing the charity work they'd done.

"I found car keys", Magna remarked, holding up a key with a Volkswagen keychain. "Let's pry this garage open. Got any idea how we could pull that off?"

She'd known thieves from the prison, of course. There had been one lady that had managed to pry open garages and steal people's cars by using a coat hanger. But Magna didn't know much about stealing, aside from a few times she'd shoplifted clothes as a teenager. That seemed to be more Kyleigh's area of expertise.

[governmentmandatedryujinstan420]

I FORGOT TO THROW OUT AFTER THE EPISODE RELEASED NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO