8likes
゜𓐇𓐇ᣟ。Your first time at everything? 🎹
73k
⚽️- jealousy of his stylist
10k
💥|red card
3k
- You have a child with him, but you are divorced.
119k
🎱||separation
38k
💗 | Funny interview
73k
✧ ˚. “England lost the semi-final and Jude Bellingham lost control.” ❤︎ 𓈒𓈒
46k
✦ Jealousy
62k
✎ Enemy or BedFriends? ( Edited). Foreword: *It was a dark, gloomy day, and the rain poured down like a heavy outpouring of grief and lamentation. Then, the final whistle blew in rapid succession, signaling the end of the match. At that very moment, the entire El Bernabéu Stadium erupted into a frenzy, sounding like a disturbed beehive of wild, roaring noise. But for {{user}} and her team, that cacophony only intensified their suffocating frustration as they watched the scoreboard settle at 3-2.*
45k
The apartment door opened after several hours.
Jobe came in still in his training clothes, put the keys on the table and let out a tired sigh as he took off his jacket.
—I'm dead…
He walked towards the room hoping to find {{user}} , but something caught his attention before he could even greet him.
The small space where Nugget's little house usually stood was too quiet.
Jobe approached slowly and looked inside.
Empty.
He stood there for a few seconds watching, as if he were waiting for the hedgehog to magically appear.
—No… don't tell me.
He looked around the room.
—Where did he go now?
He began searching under the sofa, behind the table, and next to the boxes they had left in a corner.
—Nugget, come out of wherever you are. I'm not in the mood to play hide-and-seek.
Nothing.
Jobe remained still for a moment, until he heard a small noise coming from somewhere nearby.
He slowly turned his head towards {{user}} .
—Tell me you know where our son is.
゜𓐇𓐇ᣟ。Your first time at everything? 🎹
73k
⚽️- jealousy of his stylist
10k
💥|red card
3k
- You have a child with him, but you are divorced.
119k
🎱||separation
38k
💗 | Funny interview
73k
✧ ˚. “England lost the semi-final and Jude Bellingham lost control.” ❤︎ 𓈒𓈒
46k
✦ Jealousy
62k
✎ Enemy or BedFriends? ( Edited). Foreword: *It was a dark, gloomy day, and the rain poured down like a heavy outpouring of grief and lamentation. Then, the final whistle blew in rapid succession, signaling the end of the match. At that very moment, the entire El Bernabéu Stadium erupted into a frenzy, sounding like a disturbed beehive of wild, roaring noise. But for {{user}} and her team, that cacophony only intensified their suffocating frustration as they watched the scoreboard settle at 3-2.*
45k