𐔌 (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) . ݁ ˖ BITES OF HEAVEN ⸝⸝ ✿ ( rudo x platonic!reader ) ◟ ご ━ ꒰ fluff, found family ꒱ 注記 : got addicted to wuwa, reason ts took so long
You felt bad for the Sphereite.
The boy, Rudo, as he introduced himself when he first arrived in HQ, had been sent on every mission possible for the past few weeks with Enjin’s team. And he’d only been here for, what, a week? A month and a half? Either way, that kid needed a break.
I mean, think about it.
Your foster parent was murdered right in front of you. You were accused of a crime you didn’t even commit. Then, to top it all off, you were banished from the only “home” you once knew.
You fell out of the sky, literally, and honestly, that fall alone should’ve killed you. Yet you lived, only to see and experience the cruel side of the ground.
At least Enjin found him before the world could eat him alive. Thanks to that man, Rudo got recruited and finally had a place where he could be safe. Where he could belong.
You’d never really interacted with the boy, not much, at least. He was always busy running missions with his team. Sometimes you’d cross paths in the hallway, a small wave or nod was enough.
Other times, when you were on your way to run errands for the front desk and happened to pass by the common room, you’d catch a glimpse of him hanging out with Dear and Guita, and somehow, sweet little Remlin always ended up being there too. The heartwarming sight of them sketching and eating desserts together was enough to trigger anyone’s maternal instincts.
Wait. Desserts.
That’s it!
You recalled Riyo mentioning a day ago that the boy had never had anything sweet up in the Sphere. When she offered him a plate of desserts, he devoured them like a beast who hadn’t eaten in days.
To be honest, you’d never had a proper introduction with the boy, your schedule never allowed it. But since you had a few decent skills in the kitchen, you figured, why not make him some treats as your way to officially welcome him to the Cleaners?
A day later, right after lunch, you finally had the time to work your magic in the kitchen. An hour later, you found yourself walking toward the common room with a small plate full of steaming, moist chocolate chip cookies. Their rich aroma wafted through the air like silk.
And as if the gods themselves had heard your prayers, the sound of sweet bickering and youthful laughter reached your ears. Looked like the kids were right on time.
You heard the excitement of a little girl as you neared the doors. “Okii! Okii! But who would win in a fight?! A three-headed trash beast or Gris on a bad day?!” Guita. Then sweet giggles followed. Remlin.
You peeked inside, and there, at a small low table in the corner of the room, you saw the three precious members of the Cleaners and Canvas Town’s young spell-caster.
Guita was flailing her hands dramatically while Remlin and Rudo made rough sketches on the blank papers sprawled across the table. Colored pens and sharpened pencils were scattered everywhere. Rudo seemed surprisingly focused on his sketch, while Remlin tapped their chin with their pen, deep in thought over Guita’s absurd question. Dear’s face was scrunched in concentration, clearly imagining Gris pouncing on a trash beast.
How adorable.
You couldn’t help but smile as you pushed the door open. The hinges creaked slightly, and all four heads perked up at the sound. As soon as Dear saw you, the little man didn’t hesitate to run up and attach himself to your legs. You nearly melted on the spot.
“Hello, Dearie! Having fun with your friends?”
You shifted the plate to your other hand and gave him a well-deserved pat on the head. He nodded, rubbing his head against your leg like a happy puppy who found some warmth.
“Mhm!”
Guita sprang up from the floor and ran full speed towards you and Dear, hugging your other hip and nearly knocking you both off balance. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “WAHH! I smell cookies!”
“COOKIES?!” Remlin shot up, eyes shining in anticipation. Goodness gracious.
“Alright, hold your horses, you little rascals! There’s plenty for everybody!”
You placed the plate on the low table, and instantly the trio crowded around it like moths to a flame. Warm chocolate chips glistened in the light, and Rudo looked like he’d just seen heaven for the first time.
He was hesitant to grab such a beauty on a plate, helplessly watching the others devour them like rowdy chickens. You clicked your tongue at the sight of crumbs flying everywhere.
You noticed his hesitance and immediately patted his shoulder in encouragement. “Don’t be shy, Rudo! Eat as much as you want! I have another batch ready.” Hearing this, Guita looked at you with excitement laced with mischief. You playfully glared at her.
He blinked at the cookies, then at you.
You grinned. “Go on! You deserve a treat. You’ve been busy lately, consider this a reward for all your hard work! And yes, I made them myself. So if you don’t like them, just pretend you do, and I’ll live happily in denial.”
Rudo hesitated for a moment before picking one up. He eyed the rich, gooey chocolate shining in the light. He examined it like it was a foreign specimen, and finally, after much contemplation, he took a bite. The second it hit his tongue, his eyes widened.
Lord have mercy.
“Holy—”
“Language,” you warned with a teasing smile. You heard that he would go crazy if he consumed something sweet, you were quite surprised that he was taking this so calmly. It makes you even more nervous than before.
He swallowed and stared at you like you’d just rewritten the laws of flavor. “This— this is amazing! What did you put in this?!”
“Love,” you said with mock seriousness. “And a questionable amount of butter.”
Dear, with his pacifier set aside, munched quietly on his second one, judging Rudo’s reaction. Guita was already reaching for her third cookie, and Remlin looked one step away from tears of joy.
You ruffled Rudo’s hair fondly. “Eat slowly, or you’ll choke.” You might grab some milk for them later on to tone down the sweetness.
He glared up at you between bites, cheeks stuffed like a squirrel.
“Don— mmph— reat me wike a ngid.” ( Don’t treat me like a kid )
“And don’t talk with your mouth full,” you scolded softly, dropping a napkin onto his lap, then to Guita and Remlin. “And besides,” you grabbed another napkin and wiped the melted chocolate from Dear’s cheeks and fingers “you are a kid. It’s normal for anyone to treat you like one.”
He just stared at you as you tended to the others, but kept eating.
When you finally turned back, you caught him still staring, cookie halfway to his mouth, eyes squinting suspiciously.
“…What?” you asked.
He swallowed. “You’re weird.”
You gasped, clutching your chest in mock offense. “Weird?! I slaved over that oven for you! For all of you!”
Rudo snorted. “You sound like Enjin when he’s guilt-trippin’ people into training.”
“Oh, don’t compare me to him, I’m way cuter,” you shot back, flicking a crumb off his shoulder.
“Delusional too.”
That earned him a light flick to the forehead. “Watch it, mister. I can revoke your dessert privileges anytime.”
He winced, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t hide the playful sneer tugging at his lips. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” you said, crossing your arms dramatically.
The two of you locked eyes in a mock standoff until Dear broke the tension by trying to balance a cookie on Guita’s head, which promptly fell off and hit the floor.
“Ten-second rule!” Remlin yelled.
You groaned, laughing despite to yourself. “Alright, new rule — no floor cookies!”
Rudo watched you softly pinch Dear’s cheek as a scolding, and dust off some crumbs from Guita’s hair.
“It’s my job, kiddo. Someone’s gotta keep you gremlins alive.” You gathered stray crumbs from the floor and clapped your hands. “With all the cruelty of the world, kids witnessing it firsthand is something not to take lightly.”
You turned to him again and smiled warmly. “You’re kids, for goodness’ sake! You’re too young to carry all that responsibility.”
Rudo just stared. The gears in his head were still.
You huffed and reached for his hair, softly ruffling it. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but take it easy, alright? I’ll go grab some milk for all of you — Guita, calm down, there’s plenty more.”
You left the room, taking the noise with you. For a brief moment, silence filled the air.
Then Guita flopped dramatically onto the floor. “WAHH~ big sis never disappoints when it comes to baking.”
Dear nodded sagely, munching away. Remlin mumbled, “Man, she’s one of my reasons for hanging out in your HQ.”
“I KNEW IT! YOU’RE ONLY HERE FOR BIG SIS’ COOKING, TRAITOR!” Guita pointed an accusing finger, as Remlin threw out their hands up in mock surrender.
“I’LL STAND MY GROUND!”
Meanwhile, Rudo was staring at the door, your words echoing in his head. He’d never really thought about taking it easy. He was so caught up on his thirst for revenge. Maybe… it wouldn’t hurt.
He looked down at the cookie, huge chunks of chocolate, baked to perfection, still warm, then back at the door.
Yeah. Maybe a short break wasn’t such a bad idea.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when Dear’s hand darted toward his baked sweet. He acted on instinct, pulling it out of reach with lightning speed.
“GET AWAY FROM ME! YOU GREEDY BRAT!”
“?!?!”
The chaos that followed was loud enough to make Enjin yell from down the hall, “IF YOU BREAK ANOTHER TABLE, YOU’RE FIXING IT YOURSELVES!”
And somewhere in the kitchen, you smiled to yourself — because even with all the shouting, the HQ had never sounded more alive.
著者 : lil bro did not want to share shi
@ 2025 PETALPAYE ✿ ━ do not plagiarize, copy, modify, translate my works ! divider by : @h-aewo
𐔌 . 𓏵 .°• PRETTY POISON ⸝⸝ ✿ ( jabber x fem!reader )
◟し ━ ꒰ fluff, enemies to ??? ꒱ 注記 : not satisfied with this one, jabber has w rizz ig
Jabber can’t move.
He can’t. He was paralyzed by something.
Was it his own poison? Nah, that’s strange. He hasn’t even activated his Vital Instrument yet.
What the hell.
What kind of spell did this woman cast upon him?
In front of him stood, a Cleaner, whose eyes were enough to kill him—not with venom, but with something far worse. Something warm. Something that made his chest feel tight.
Goddamn.
He swore he’d seen a lot of faces in his life, enemies, allies, and everything in between—but yours? You hit him like a toxin he didn’t have an antidote for.
You were supposed to be just another opponent, standing there with your weapon drawn and that sharp, ready posture that screamed don’t mess with me. But all he could do was stare.
Damn. Is it just him or was it so uncharacteristically quiet in that alleyway? Better step it up a bit.
“...You plannin’ to fight,” he finally said, voice low and laced with that trademark teasing edge, “or just stand there lookin’ pretty, pretty girl?”
Your grip on your weapon tightened. “You talk too much.”
“Ah, so she speaks,” he smirked. “Guess I got lucky.”
You rolled your eyes and stepped closer. The air between you buzzed, not with hostility, but tension.
The kind that makes your skin feel too hot for comfort.
“Lucky?” you scoffed. “You call meeting your opponent lucky?”
He chuckled, slow and smooth. “When she looks like ya? Yeah.”
That earned him a glare. A really cute one, if he was being honest.
“Aight, aight… calm down. Don’t get yer pretty lil’ head all worked up.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I just happen to be passin’ by this street and ran into ya.”
“Uh huh…” You huffed, pointing your vital instrument toward him, your irises glowing as a warning. “And why should I believe you?”
Jabber tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling up. “You shouldn’t.”
Before you could respond, he stepped forward—fast. Too fast. The tip of your weapon grazed his hood, but he didn’t flinch. His hand shot up, catching your wrist mid-swing.
The contact startled you, warm, firm, unyielding.
You scowled, trying to pull back, but he leaned in with that infuriating grin. “Relax, sweetheart. I ain’t here to fight.”
“You—”
“Unless,” he drawled, his thumb brushing over your pulse, “ya’ want me to.”
Your heart betrayed you. It jumped, just once, yet enough for him to notice.
Jabber’s grin widened.
“Let go,” you hissed, jerking your hand, wanting to break free from his hold.
He didn’t. Instead, his other hand rose, and before you could react, he squished your cheeks between his fingers.
Hard enough to surprise you, gentle enough to infuriate you.
“The hell—!?” You swatted his hand away, cheeks flushed.
“Couldn’t help it,” he said, laughing under his breath. “Yer too damn cute when you’re mad.”
You blinked, flustered beyond reason. “You—you’re so insufferable!”
“Oh yeah?” he said softly, leaning close enough for you to feel his breath ghost past your ear. “All for ya, baby.”
You froze. What in the actual freak? Whatever happened to being at each other’s throats?
For one dangerous heartbeat, the world narrowed down to just him—his lazy grin, his hot pink eyes, the scent of smoke and metal lingering off him.
He reached out again, slower this time. You should’ve moved. You wanted to move.
But for some reason, you didn’t.
Was it because you didn’t sense any hostility in him at this moment? Or because, deep down, you were craving a little warmth in this damp alley?
Jabber’s hand tilted your chin just slightly, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth—MOVE, WOMAN, MOVE.
“Guess my poison’s workin’ after all,” he murmured, the teasing gone quiet now, voice almost fond.
You stared at him, pulse racing, and bit back the first comeback that came to mind—because if you opened your mouth now, you might say something you couldn’t take back.
He finally stepped away, grinning like the devil himself.
“See ya around, pretty girl.”
You exhaled shakily, heart hammering in your chest.
Then, silence. The sound of distant chatter, vehicles, and barks of street dogs reached your ears.
And as his silhouette faded down the street, your brain slowly processed the encounter.
What the heck.
You were suddenly hyper aware of what he said, and rapidly checked your skin and clothes in case of a scratch, despite knowing he never activated his claws, it was just to make sure.
You looked back again at the street where he disappeared into, and zoned out for a good minute.
Then you muttered under your breath—
“…God, I hate that man.”
But the heat in your cheeks said otherwise.
著者 : bro lowkey
@ 2025 PETALPAYE ✿ ━ do not plagiarize, copy, modify, translate my works ! divider by : @h-aewo
𐔌 ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) ࣪ ˖ REAL MAN ⸝⸝ ✿ ( follo x fem!reader ) ◟ さん ━ ꒰ fluff, unlabeled relationship ꒱ 注記 : reader wears boots and a hair clip
You’re a strong girl.
That’s what Follo thinks.
You’ve always handled everything on your own. He’s seen it.
You fight like it’s second nature — trash beasts fall before you like it’s a hobby. You finish every stack of paperwork Semiu or the boss throws at you without a single complaint. You may be shy, but you never let anyone talk down to you. Even when fear creeps in about what the future might hold, you still keep moving forward with that brave little smile.
You’re so adorable.
That’s what he thinks.
The cute little pout he adores so much appears whenever you finish one mission only to be assigned with another — he had to bite back a smile for it. You squeal in delight every time the food you’re craving makes its way to your tastebuds. It’s adorable how you get so shy when someone compliments you for your hard work; he could watch it all day.
You don’t need anyone.
He knows that.
And yet — despite every thought reminding him how capable you are, his actions speak the opposite.
He opens doors before you can touch the handle.
He pulls out your chair at breakfast without even asking.
He hands you your favorite drink before you can reach for it, already chilled, already opened.
Once, you tried to carry a crate of supplies across HQ, insisting you had it handled. He silently lifted it from your arms with one hand and walked away like it weighed nothing.
You chased after him, flustered. “Follo, I can do it—”
“I know but..” he said, not looking back. “let me do it for you.”
You never know what to do with yourself when he says things like that.
The moment that really broke you, however, happened when you were assigned to assist his team on a task in another town. Hours of walking, scouting, navigating uneven roads — your feet were killing you. You tried not to show it, but the unevenness in your steps gave you away. A faint limp. A wince when you thought no one was looking.
Follo noticed.
Of course he did.
You were halfway through assuring yourself you could endure when a hand wrapped firmly around your wrist.
“Hey—”
He didn’t say a word. Just tugged you gently but undeniably toward a nearby bench. You frowned, confused, as he sat down and patted his thigh.
You blinked. “…What?”
“Sit,” he said flatly.
A moment of silence.
WHAT.
Stunned, you looked left and right to make sure the others weren’t nearby witnessing this. Thank goodness they were not on sight.
Your cheeks burned. “On you?”
He gave you a look that clearly said do I need to say it again?
Too shocked to process what was happening in front of you, you tried to distract yourself from reality for a short minute. Oh, look at that cloud! It’s shaped like a bunny!
You sputtered. “Follo, I’m fine—”
“No, you’re not,” he said, voice calm as ever. His eyes softened. “I can see you struggling to walk properly.”
Your heartbeat went ballistic.
Checking again if the others were nearby, you cautiously took a step forward.
Slowly and awkwardly, you sat sideways across his lap, stiff and unsure of where to put your hands. He adjusted his hold automatically — one arm around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world — the other reaching down to tug off your boot.
“H-Hey—!”
“Relax.”
He inspected your socked foot with silent precision before pressing his thumb into your arch. You nearly squeaked.
He paused, glancing up at you. “Too much?”
“N-No,” you squeaked.
He hummed, pleased and continued massaging, firm strokes that melted tension you hadn’t even realized you’d been carrying.
Your face was on fire. Your hands curled into his broad shoulders.
“Follo…” you whispered, heart racing. “You don’t have to do all this.”
He didn’t stop.
“Yeah, I know, but…” A pause. His right hand kept massaging your foot, the other still holding your waist, his thumb drawing circles against the fabric of your uniform for comfort, making your heart run laps in your chest.
Then he looked straight into your eyes, voice unwavering. “I want to.”
It wasn’t long before the others took notice of his behavior toward you.
They took the opportunity to tease him about it at lunch.
“Real gentleman, huh?” Enjin mocked. “What are you, her bodyguard?”
“Bodyguard?” Gris snorted, nudging him. “More like househusband.”
Even Rudo chimed in from his chair across the table. “You gonna start wearing an apron too?”
Zanka threw his arms over his head dramatically. “Follo, blink twice if she’s got you in a spell.”
Follo just shrugged and drank from his cup, unfazed.
“Call it whatever you want.”
Because honestly? He likes it.
He likes being the one who carries your bags even when you insist you can handle them. He likes being the one who reaches the high shelves for you, even though he’s seen you jump five meters in the air before. He likes watching you pretend to be annoyed when he fixes your uniform or straightens your hair clip.
You let him take care of you.
Even though you don’t have to.
And that — that makes his chest warm in a way that fighting never has.
He’s not sure what this is between you two. Friends? Partners Something unnamed, something fragile but precious?
But he knows one thing for sure:
If being a “real man” means treating you like the princess you are..
— Then he’ll do it every damn day, without shame.
Without hesitation.
Without stopping until you finally look at him and realize.
He’s not doing it because you’re weak.
He’s doing it because he adores you.
著者 : Follo and the boys once he finally wins the fine shyt’s heart:
@ 2025 PETALPAYE ✿ ━ do not plagiarize, copy, modify, translate my works ! divider by : @h-aewo
𐔌 Ი︵𐑼 . SWEET DISCLOSURE ⸝⸝ ✿ ( tamsy x fem!reader ) ◟ に ━ ꒰ fluff, mutual pining ꒱ 注記 : kinda rushed, wrote this while studying
You have been avoiding Tamsy Caines.
Not in a way that you did something wrong to upset him. That’s highly unlikely. You were quiet, a bit reserved, and had a world of your own. The chances of you making enemies inside the HQ were low.
But never zero.
To be straightforward, you harbored a certain crush for the enigmatic member of Team Eager. You don’t know how it happened.
It just did.
There was something about his mysterious nature that dug under your skin; the quiet confidence in his voice, the calm sharpness in his gaze, the way he moved like he’d seen everything and judged none of it. Being near him made your mind spin and your heart misbehave. This constant behavior implanted a fear of him possibly finding out.
So, naturally…
You chose the most logical solution to this problem.
You avoided him.
Not dramatically — that would be too obvious.
You simply rerouted your movements whenever you heard his footsteps. Took longer hallways. Entered the cafeteria only after confirming he’d already left. If he walked into a room, you suddenly remembered something very urgent you needed to do elsewhere.
It was a flawless strategy. It’s genius.
You started to cheer to yourself, even patting yourself on the back for it.
There’s no way he would find out.
You underestimated him.
You should’ve known someone like Tamsy; observant, deliberate, always three steps ahead, wouldn’t overlook something as glaring as your sudden disappearance from his orbit.
Which is why, when you slip into the storage corridor behind the training hall to avoid crossing paths with him for the third time today, you don’t expect him to already be there.
Leaning against the wall. Waiting.
You freeze in the doorway. He doesn’t speak right away, just lifts his gaze and pins you with it. Calm. Sharp. Patient. Like he’d been expecting you to walk right into his hold.
God, why was he so painfully handsome.
“Tamsy,” you manage, fighting to keep your voice steady. “I—I didn’t see you.”
“Clearly,” he says.
There’s no accusation in his tone, no irritation, just quiet certainty. Somehow, that’s worse.
You take a step back.
He takes one forward.
The hallway is narrow. Too narrow. You’re suddenly very aware of the cold wall pressing against your spine and the warmth radiating off him as he stops in front of you — close, but not touching.
“Tamsy,” you say again, softer this time. “I… I was just—”
“Avoiding me.”
Your throat tightens, beads of sweat starts to form on your skin, “No.”
He tilts his head slightly. Not convinced.
A beat of silence passes. A sudden ringing sound clogs your ears, and shame slowly taking over. His gazing towards you like you did some sort of crime. You couldn’t even look straight at him, the possibility of getting rejected by him is high now.
Your heart hammers against your ribs loud enough that you’re certain he can hear it. His eyes flick down, to your lips, to your trembling hands, before returning to meet yours again.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, and his voice is so calm, so painfully sincere, that it knocks the air from your lungs.
“No,” you blurt, shaking your head. “You didn’t. You never did.” He studies you for a moment. Then —
“…Then why are you running?”
Your pulse jumps. Your fingers curl against your sides.
He leans forward just slightly, carefully, like he’s giving you space to push him away if you want to. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re stuck between flight and surrender, and he’s standing patiently in the middle.
“Unless,” he adds quietly, gaze unwavering, “there’s something I’m not seeing.”
You swallow.
Words tangle in your throat. Panic flares. The confession claws its way up before you can hold it back—
Oh no
“I like you.”
It slips out — small, raw, breathless.
His eyes widen just a fraction.
You immediately slap a hand over your mouth, RUN. EVAPORATE. DO SOMETHING. “—Forget I said that!”
“Too late.”
He steps even closer now, bracing one hand beside your head on the wall — still not touching, but surrounding you entirely.
“Say it again.”
Your breath stutters. “Why?”
“So I know I heard it right.”
He’s closer now. Close enough that you can see the subtle lift at the corner of his lips — not quite a smile, but something dangerously close.
You stare at him, cornered and helpless, heart thrashing like a trapped animal. As much as you like this man, he can be quite intimidating!
“I..” you whisper. Not having the strength to look straight into his eyes, “-I like you.”
Your confession hangs in the air, fragile and trembling, like a secret that could shatter if either of you breathed too loud.
“I like you,” you repeat, barely more than a whisper.
Tamsy’s eyes darken, not with shock, nor amusement, but with a quiet intensity that roots you in place.
Slowly, deliberately, his hand lifts.
You freeze as his fingers brush your cheek, tentative, like he’s giving you time to pull away. You don’t.
His thumb lingers there, warm against your skin.
“…May I?” he asks softly.
You nod before your mind even catches up.
He leans in, not for your lips.
His forehead presses gently against yours, grounding yet dizzying all at once. His breath fans softly across your face.
Then, featherlight, reverent, he places a kiss on your cheek. Your knees nearly buckle, you can hear your own heart pounding in your ears.
He doesn’t pull away immediately. His lips remain there, lingering as if to make sure you feel every second of it, you let out a silent whimper as the cold metal of his piercing brushed your cheek, your hand clutches weakly at his sleeve, anchoring yourself.
When he finally draws back, he doesn’t stray far. His forehead rests against yours again, eyes half-lidded, his voice a soft murmur only you could hear.
“Don’t avoid me anymore.”
You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice from shaking, your mind was slowly processing the kiss. “O-Okay.”
A moment of silence passed. Not awkward, not heavy, just the lingering thought of the boy who you were pining over for who knows how long, was the first one to make a big move, and kiss you! On the cheek too!
His fingers trail from your cheek to your jaw, tilting your head slightly as if memorizing you.
“Good,” he whispers, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Mischievous, so handsome, it makes you melt into a puddle all over again.
“Because next time this happens again… I won’t hold back.”
著者 : how I actually imagined this btw
@ 2025 PETALPAYE ✿ ━ do not plagiarize, copy, modify, translate my works ! divider by: @h-aewo
୨୧ . . . LIBRARY / ✿ . [ ガチアクタ ]
[ info. i don't write smut ! ] . . . 𖥨᩠ׄ݁ //✿
focused on female!readers ᰔ fluff to soft angst !
. . . and I don't take any request either
DISCLAIMER ✿ : This blog is a space dedicated to writing fanfiction based on the anime/manga, Gachiakuta. I do not own Gachiakuta or any of its characters—rights belong to their respective creators and publishers. All stories here are purely for entertainment purposes.
@ 2025 PETALPAYE ✿ ━ do not plagiarize, copy, modify, translate my works !
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