Tatted! Simon Motorcycle Shenanigans

MOMMY TARA AT IT AGAIN 😩😩💦💦

vixen || the proxies

‘lust and drugs, no intuition’

sum: after succeeding in a particularly hard mission, The Operator decides to gift the proxies something they need more than anything else: a stress reliever

tw: filth. pure filthy smut. minors dni. FOURSOME. double penetration, drug usage (don’t do drugs), prostitute!reader, mask play, lowkey humiliation if you squint, throat fucking, overstimulation on the low

a/n: this shit was sooo fun to write. happy 3k!!!

“This was a stupid ass idea.”

Hoodie grumbled, slouching dramatically in his seat. Masky’s side eye was cold, his eyes narrowing under his mask. “How often do we get rewards from The Operator? Besides, do you have a better idea on how to spend it?” Masky asked bitterly. Hoodie rolled his eyes, propping his head on his hand. It would be any moment you were scheduled to arrive, the stale scent of the hotel room making Hoodie cringe.

It wasn’t often The Operator gave his proxies some free time, nevertheless offered a reward for good behavior. Recently the three of them, Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, had somehow won The Operator over just enough for him to grant them some stress relief. “Kate had a better idea, she was smart enough to ask for a steak,” Hoodie grumbled unhappily. It wasn’t that he was unhappy with the prospect of fucking whatever girl waltzed through the door. More so that he had to stay around Masky and Toby to experience it. He and Masky were constantly at each other’s throats, while Toby just annoyed him to shreds. His patience was wearing more thin by the day.

“Kate is also borderline feral and rarely speaks comprehensive words,” Masky argued. While he was trying to keep his cool, his own nerves were becoming evident as he glanced at the clock on the wall. Where were you? “How m-many did boss get us?” Toby chimed in. He had been quiet up until now, Hoodies suspicious that it was due to his obvious inexperience with women. “I’d assume one for each of us, right? He’s swimming in money, it can’t be that expensive to get three,” Hoodie answered. He wondered if they’d fight over who got who. A soft knock at the motel door made the three of them go silent, Masky hesitantly stepping over to the door. He peaked through the peak hole, before unlocking it. To the trio’s surprise you were the only one standing there, your hand clutching your small purse.

“Hi um, i’m looking for the uh-” You paused, reading a crumbled up note you had been clinging onto, “the proxies..?”

Your voice was unsure, Masky giving you an affirmative nod and signaling you to come in. Toby had seen prostitutes many of times, on television at least. But you didn’t look like any of them, the stereotypes all wrong. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, there were supposed to be three of you,” Masky told you, gently shutting the door behind you. Your eyes nervously dragged to his face, staring at his eerie mask. “Right, about that, well-” You began, clearly nervous. Hoodie couldn’t help but wonder why you were more jittery than they were. “Your boss put on this note that this is a team exercise as much as a reward, the three of you meant to work together with, well, just me,” You explained.

Oh.

Oh.

No wonder you were shaking in your boots. Three masked men eyeing you like prey, whose mouths were borderline salivating at the thought of fucking you. Masky grabbed the note from you, reading it himself. “You have got to be kidding me,” He grumbled, reading the familiar handwriting. In annoyance he dug in his pockets looking for a box of cigarettes. “All three of us? Is he insane? Look at her, we’ll break her,” He said, gesturing to you. True, you were smaller in stature compared to the three men. Toby stood up first, putting his orange goggles on top of his head. He rounded you like a wild animal, soaking in as much of your body as he could with his eyes. “S-She does look a b-b-bit small,” Toby agreed. Hoodie tilted his head to the side as he studied you. He was always interested in watching how people reacted to one another.

To his surprise despite how intimidating he knew the three of them were, he noticed the light tint of pink that had spread across your cheeks. “Actually, your boss offered me the job specifically. Said out of all of my girls and I, i’d be the only one who could handle it,” You admitted. This confession made Hoodie rise from his chair, walking up to you quickly. His gloved hand squeezed your face, forcing you to pucker out your lips like a fish. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation sweetheart. We’re not like the married men you pluck off of the streets. We can seriously hurt you,” He snarled. His ski mask stared down at you ominously, the tension in the room only becoming thicker by the minute.

“Actually, that’s why I accepted the offer,” You countered. Hoodie’s hardened facade cracked for a moment, his hand loosening. “Said you three with rough around the edges, but that you’d indulge in my darkest fantasies,” You confessed, your face turning a darker shade of red. Masky tossed the note aside, taking a step closer to you. “Oh yeah princess? And that’s that?” The brunette asked. Three sets of eyes stared at you intensely, awaiting your next words. “To be fucked ruthlessly by three mysterious men in mask,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Hoodie couldn’t hide his smirk, his eyes flickering up to his companions. “I think she’s starting to grow on me,” He purred, releasing his grip on your face.

“Before we begin, I also have these,” You say, digging into your purse and pulling out four pills. The boys rounded you in a circle, eyeing them suspiciously. “What’s t-that?” Toby asked. You scratched the back of your neck, as if you weren’t completely sure yourself. “Your boss attached them to the note. Said they’d help us all loosen up a bit,” You explained. Toby was the first to reach for one, popping the tiny pill without a second thought. “Well shit, if the kids doing it,” Hoodie grumbled, following his lead. You met Masky’s gaze, the last two pills sitting in the palm of your hand. “Ladies first, princess,” He said. You had taken ecstasy dozens of times before, but never with clients. You had known of The Operator for years, the girls you worked alongside serving his men on occasion. He had never requested you before though and he had never given his proxies an opportunity like this.

You hard swallowed the pill, cringing as it scraped against the back of your throat. Masky finally took the last pill from your hand, swallowing it as if it meant nothing. “You sure about this sweetheart?” Hoodie purred mockingly, admiring how flustered you already seemed. You shrugged off your trench coat, revealing nothing underneath. Toby’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, soaking in every curve that was exposed. “Knees, princess,” Masky barked, regaining your attention. You did as instructed, your knees scraping against the crusty old carpet. You couldn’t deny the bubbling in your stomach as the three of them surrounded you, undoing their belts in unison. The mixed clinking sounded like heaven to you, your tongue flattening out across your bottom lip.

Toby had taken out his cock first, your mouth gravitating towards him. You licked the bottom of his length from the bottom to his tip, kitten licking his slit. He visibly shuddered, causing you to grin. “You do that too much to the kid he’ll cum right now,” Hoodie snickered. Masky had casually lit a cigarette, tilting his mask up just enough to inhale the stick. “S-Shut up,” Toby argued weakly. Your hands found their way to Masky and Hoodies cocks, Masky more girthy and Hoodie longer. Toby was an even mix of the two, your mouth bobbing up and down on his cock. Your hands jerked the older proxies off, your eyes never straying from Toby’s face. The bottom half of his face was covered with a face mask, but his eyes. Oh, his sweet and delicious eyes stared down at you. You had captivated him, the way you took him to the base.

A rough hand grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking you off of Toby’s twitching cock. “Quit hoggin’ her,” Hoodie snarled. He shoved you onto his cock, your eyes welling up with tears as he hit the back of your throat. You struggled to keep up with his aggression, your jaw going slack as he face fucked you. “Shit, her mascaras running already,” Masky grumbled, inhaling his cigarette sharply. He rutted his hips into your hand, as he exhaled. Your core was aching, your thighs subtly rubbing together to create some form of friction. You could feel the ecstasy taking effect much faster than normal, your ultimate fantasy coming true before your very eyes. Fuck, you owed their boss big time.

Hoodie yanked you off of his cock, a string of saliva attached from his tip to your lips. “Open up your mouth pretty girl, let’s see if you can fit all of us at once,” Masky smirked. He could feel himself letting loose, his gloved hand grabbing your chin. You tried to open your mouth as wide as possible, the three of their cocks competing to shove their way in. “Can’t even suck three cocks? Pathetic. What’re you getting paid for?” Hoodie spat, a sadistic smile hidden by his ski mask. You struggled to breathe as they guided you onto the bed, Masky’s hand grabbing your chin first. “Either these drugs are really good or you’re looking really fuckin pretty princess,” He grumbled. He could feel warmth spreading through out his body, the exhaled cigarette smoke escaping through the sides of his mask. He loomed over you, leaning close towards your ear.

Your body was practically vibrating with anticipation, a chill running down your spine. “Maybe sometime i’ll have you for myself, just you and me,” Masky rambled, talking more than he usually did. A firm set of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, resulting in your back colliding with the mattress. “You’re s-s-supposed to share, remember?” Toby asked, relieved at the sight of your bare breast. He eagerly leaned over, pulling down his mask. His gash was hidden on the over side of his face, his pale gray skin a light shade of pink as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back nearly arched off of the bed, your nipples hardened and more sensitive than normal. “Hey loverboy, since you’re so in love go ahead and make yourself useful and stretch her out for us, will you?” Hoodie asked, tapping the head of his cock on your lips. Your tongue rolled out on instinct, licking the underside of his shaft.

Masky tossed the cigarette aside, using his gloved hands to pry apart your thighs. Your cunt was so wet it was almost dripping down your thighs, a sight so painfully mouth watering it took everything in him to not yank off his mask and dig in. Instead he took a deep breath, his body buzzing with euphoria. “Keep her mouth busy,” He replied. Hoodie smirked at his command, shoving his cock down into your mouth. With confidence you were unable to see him, the brunette slipped off his mask. He used two of his gloved fingers to open your folds, admiring your drenched sex. “Fuck, she’s so fuckin wet for us,” Masky grumbled, before attaching his lips to your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure almost mind numbing as he sucked harshly at your clit. Toby released your nipple, the bud growing only more sensitive from the abandonment of his warm mouth.

Toby reattached his mouth to your other breast, ignoring the feeling of your heart pounding against your rib cage as he sucked. “Feelin good sweetheart?” Hoodie asked mockingly, his ominous stitched frown staring down at you. His cock brutally hit the back of your throat, your moans vibrating his shaft further. Masky’s hands tightened around your thighs, keeping them pried apart as he devoured your cunt. “Awe does that feel good? Having Masky eat that pretty pussy of yours?” Hoodie continued, relishing in the sight of your thighs squeezing his partners head. The warmth spreading across Toby’s chest only made him more feral, his hips involuntarily grinding against the bedding as his teeth grazed your nipple. “This is what you wanted right? Your ultimate fantasy right?” Hoodie continued. His fingers were tangled in your hair, yanking ever so often. He enjoyed watching your body react to his every word, your skin littered with goosebumps.

“You’re trembling already. How are you gonna handle all three of us at once if you can’t handle a little foreplay?” Hoodie continued. He watched you attempt to keep up with his thrust, your mind spinning. Toby released your nipple, attaching his lips to your breast. “Awe you poor thing, the kids gonna litter you in as many marks as possible. Hope you like hickies,” Hoodie continued. You could feel your core tightening, Masky’s tongue relentless as he lapped at your clit. You could feel his tongue poke at your entrance, one of your hands flying down to his hair. Your hips grinded against his face, your breath shuddering as Hoodie pulled out of your mouth. Sinful moans instantly spewed from your lips, bouncing off of the motel room walls. “Sounds like someone’s close to cumming, how cute,” Hoodie grinned. He pulled your hair to continue looking up at him, preventing you from seeing Masky’s exposed face. “Go on sweetheart, cum on his face,” He cooed.

Toby released a patch of your skin with a pop, a shock of electric euphoria crashing down over you. Your back arched off of the bed as you came on Masky’s tongue, his hooded eyes watching your face as you shamelessly came. His gloved hands were harsh, keeping your thighs pried open. He continued to devour you until he was sure you were done, his chin coated in your juices as he emerged from your thighs. “I want her cunt,” Masky said instantly, claiming your pussy for his own. Hoodie grunted as he helped rearrange you, Masky pulling down his mask as he laid underneath you. On all fours you hovered above him, feeling Hoodies gloved hands pull apart your cheeks from behind. “Fine by me, kid you get her mouth,” Hoodie ordered. Toby was slowly jerking off cock, kneeling beside your mouth. “W-Why can’t I get her ass?” He bickered.

You could feel Masky’s hands slide down your hips, causing you to bite your bottom lip to refrain from whimpering. “Because you’re going to nut in five seconds and I plan on fucking her until she can’t walk,” Hoodie argued. You could feel Masky align himself with your entrance, before pushing himself inside. Your velvet walls clung to him instantly, your loud moan interrupting the arguing at hand. You grabbed onto his mustard jacket, feeling him bottom out inside of you. “Fuck princess, you feel so fuckin, warm,” Masky sputtered. He could feel his cheeks flaming red with embarrassment, the ecstasy hitting him far harder than he could’ve imagined. It was like he could hear all of you, your breathing, your heart beat, even the little whimpers that were clawing their way out of your throat.

For a brief moment he swore he could’ve met your gaze, Toby’s thin fingers guiding your face to his cock. You teasingly sucked the tip, feeling Hoodie shove himself inside of you. “We may need to take her home, shit, she didn’t even need any, fuck, prep,” Hoodie groaned, bottoming out as well. Your head was spinning, the taste of Toby’s salty precum dancing on your tastebuds. Your body was electrified with warmth and lust, your vision growing spotty as you felt Masky and Hoodie begin to move. You grabbed handfuls of Masky’s jacket, unable to stop your sinful moans. Even as Toby guided you to suck his cock, your unholy noises were still as loud as ever. Masky grabbed your hips, noting the way tears free flowed down your cheeks. He rammed upwards into you, noticing the way your eyes rolled back into your head.

“That’s it princess, you can take it,” The brunette praised, mesmerized by you. You looked ethereal, falling apart between the three of them like this. Your jaw had gone slack and was growing sore as Toby used your throat as he pleased, satisfied in the gagging he made you produce. Hoodies hips never let up for a moment, his brain on auto pilot as his body rammed into you. Insults swam around his brain, failing to leave his lips as he fucked your unexplored hole. The four of you were too high to play mind games, addicted the feeling you gave one another. You felt caught in the middle, completely cock drunk as three strong pairs of hands kept you upright. “Feels soooo g-g-good, motherfuckin- I can’t,” Toby whined, his hips stuttering. He hadn’t anticipated his orgasm, his body producing one without any warning. His cum flooded your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you swallowed all that you could. Toby watched, mesmerized as you continued sucking him half hard.

He was twitching in euphoria, his hands fallen by his sides as he soaked in the overstimulation. “Knew the kid was gonna cum first,” Hoodie grumbled, his fingers digging so hard into your skin they promised bruises in their morning to come. Masky felt like he was breathing on manual mode, his breath shallow as he looked at you. “Princess, touch yourself. We’ll hold you up. Cum on our cocks so we can fill you up,” Masky offered, his words much more softer than he meant for them to be. Dazed, you used your spare hand to slither down to your clit, drawing sloppy circles around the sensitive bud. Your body began to tremble, Toby’s cock falling out of your mouth as you dropped your head. Your moans were babbles and curses, your mind completely cock drunk as Masky and Hoodie fucked you at the same time.

“Ha, feel that Masky? She’s about to cum already. Filthy girl,” Hoodie snickered, pretending that he wasn’t on the edge as well. Masky’s smooth voice was like the light at the end of the tunnel, the only thing you could audibly hear. “Come on princess, cum for us. Cum for me. Be good,” He encouraged, fucking upwards into your g spot. Your vision became hazy as you came, sweat dripping down your forehead and body trembling in their grasp. Your knuckles were white from grabbing Masky’s jacket so hard, your body withering in euphoria. The boys didn’t take long after that, cumming inside of your ass and cunt as they pleased. The four of you were entangled messes, the ecstasy overriding any sense of pride or moral obligation.

It was Toby who spoke first, cheeks flushed pink.

“So, we’re bringing her home with us right?”

•-•» 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 «•-•

Hi, I’m Merxcy! Here a few things about me to get to know me better:

🍂 I’m 19 years old

🍂 My pronouns are she/her

🍂 I am an INFP

🍂 I’m obsessed with writing

🍂 I have a black little kitty named Binx

🍂 I love vinyl records

🍂 I’m an addict for cheesy romance novels.

🍂 I live off of coffee

•---•» 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 «•---•

𝐶𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑦𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎

𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑠

𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐹𝑎𝑐𝑒

𝐸𝑑𝑑𝑠𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑

𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑤 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑦

𝐴𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒

𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑣𝑎 𝐵𝑜𝑠𝑠

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 𝐻𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙

𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑢𝑡𝑦

𝐻𝑜𝑔𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑐𝑦

(Feel free to suggest any fandoms you want me to write, I’m always open to explore new fandoms 🧡)

•---•» 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟: «•---•

𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡

𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑠/𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐/𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠

•---•» 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑: «•---•

𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡 (𝑀𝐷𝑁𝐼)

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟

•---•» 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟: «•---•

𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓 (𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒)

𝐼𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑡

𝐻𝑢𝑔𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑝

𝑂𝐶 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

•---•» 𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛: «•---•

𝑅𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠: 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧!

​​⋆* 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖕𝖞𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖆 *⋆ ➤

⋆* 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝕳𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖘 *⋆ ➤

𝐵𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑛 - Tim Wright x Reader x Brian Thomas

⋆* 𝕾𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝕱𝖆𝖈𝖊 *⋆ ➤

Sal Fisher Relationship Headcanons

⋆* 𝕰𝖉𝖉𝖘𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 *⋆ ➤

𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒. - Tom x Reader

⋆* 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖜 𝖁𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖞 *⋆ ➤

Nothing here yet..

⋆* 𝕬𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖊 *⋆ ➤

𝐼 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑌𝑜𝑢, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 - Vi x Reader

𝐹𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑆𝑘𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒 - Jinx x Reader

𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 - Vi x Reader (Requested)

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑇𝑖𝑒𝑠 - Vi x Reader (Part 2 of I Love You, I’m Sorry)

ℭ𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔬𝔫-𝔗𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 - Vi x Reader (Requested)

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 - Vi x Reader (Continuation of Crimson-Touched Love) (Requested)

𝐴 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑐𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 - Vi x Reader/Lux x Reader (Final Part of I Love You, I’m Sorry)

⋆* 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖚𝖛𝖆 𝕭𝖔𝖘𝖘 *⋆ ➤

Nothing here yet..

⋆* 𝕳𝖆𝖟𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝕳𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖑 *⋆ ➤

ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔩’𝔰 ℌ𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫 - Platonic!Charlie x Platonic!Reader (Requested)

𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔅𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔎𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔉𝔬𝔯 - Platonic!Charlie x Reader (Requested)

⋆* 𝕮𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖚𝖙𝖞 *⋆ ➤

𝐴 𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 - Poly!141 x Reader

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 - Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Reader

⋆* 𝕳𝖔𝖌𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖈𝖞 *⋆ ➤

Nothing here yet..

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠! <3

Can I make a platonic request about Charlie with the human reader who died aiding her in her fighting Adam but then returns as a sinner being the one to stab Adam in the back?

𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔅𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔎𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔉𝔬𝔯

A/N: I am finally back and writing your guys requests! Also, I am so glad you requested again because I adored your first idea! Sorry it took me so long to write this I hope I hope this ok as I’m nervous that my writing skills have slipped a little from me! Much love!

Word Count: 1.3k

Trigger Warnings: Death and you’re in Hell.

Reader is Gender Neutral

Remember you’re loved, so please stay hydrated and eat plenty of food. ❤️

In the depths of Pentagram City, the air simmered with tension. Charlie, Hell’s reluctant princess, stood resolute, her gaze locked on Adam—the ancient sinner whose unrelenting cruelty threatened to unravel all she had worked for. Beside her was a human who had stumbled into Hell by accident, an ordinary soul driven by an extraordinary heart.

This human, the Reader, had no obligation to fight for a demon princess or her improbable dream of redemption. But something about Charlie’s unwavering belief in the possibility of goodness, even amidst the chaos of Hell, had sparked a flame of loyalty within them. Together, they had fought through countless trials, proving that even a mortal soul could make a profound difference in the underworld.

The Reader’s arrival in Hell had been nothing short of a cosmic accident—a wrong turn on the labyrinthine paths of fate. Awakening in the neon-lit streets of Pentagram City, they had been met with despair and malice at every turn. Lost and overwhelmed, they encountered Charlie at the Hazbin Hotel, the sanctuary she had built as a beacon of hope for the damned. Charlie extended her hand, offering not just guidance but a chance to fight for something greater than mere survival.

Together, they had journeyed across Hell’s harshest locales, from the chaotic Red Light District to the eerie depths of the Lust Ring. The Reader’s mortal perspective often clashed with the demonic cynicism that permeated their surroundings, but their unyielding determination inspired others to join Charlie’s mission. Through every hardship, their bond deepened, becoming an unbreakable connection forged in fire and hope.

The final confrontation unfolded in the abandoned ruins of Lamentation Hall, a once-magnificent palace now steeped in shadows. Adam, towering and formidable, wielded his infernal blade with cruel precision, his malevolent laughter reverberating in the cavernous chamber. He toyed with Charlie, his overwhelming power making her struggles seem futile. The Reader, battered and bruised, knew they couldn’t stand idly by.

As Adam raised his weapon for the killing blow, the Reader acted without hesitation. With a desperate cry, they hurled themselves between Charlie and Adam. The blade meant for her pierced their chest, the impact reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Charlie caught the Reader as they crumpled, their weight heavy in her arms. Blood spilled from the wound, staining her hands as she pressed against it, as though sheer willpower could stop the inevitable. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “No, no, no. Stay with me. Please, stay with me.”

The Reader’s face was pale, their breaths shallow and ragged. A weak smile touched their lips as they met Charlie’s tearful gaze. “I couldn’t let him hurt you,” they murmured, their words strained but unwavering. “You… you’re the hope this place needs.”

“Why?” Charlie’s voice broke, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why did you do this? You didn’t have to…”

With trembling fingers, the Reader reached up, brushing her cheek. “Because someone has to believe in you,” they said, their voice barely audible. “If you don’t win… there’s no hope for any of us.” Their hand fell away as their strength ebbed. “Promise me… you’ll keep fighting.”

“I promise,” Charlie choked out, clutching them closer as though she could anchor them to life by sheer force of will.

The faintest smile graced the Reader’s lips. “Good…” With one last, shuddering breath, their body stilled, leaving an unbearable silence in their wake.

❦.

For a moment, the world seemed to collapse around Charlie. The sound of Adam’s cruel laughter became a distant hum, drowned by the deafening void left by the Reader’s absence. A raw scream tore from her throat, a mixture of anguish and fury. Gently, she laid the Reader’s lifeless form on the ground, brushing her fingers over their face one final time before rising to confront Adam.

“You will pay for this,” she growled, her voice trembling with a mixture of grief and righteous rage.

Adam smirked, his amusement palpable. “A noble sacrifice,” he sneered, “but ultimately futile. Do you truly think you can defeat me?”

Charlie’s fists clenched, a radiant energy surging around her like a blazing inferno. “They believed in me,” she said, her voice steady with newfound resolve. “And that’s all I need.”

❦.

Time passed. Charlie, fueled by the memory of the Reader’s sacrifice, rallied her allies and launched an unrelenting campaign against Adam. Despite her efforts, his power seemed insurmountable, feeding on the despair of Hell’s denizens. Victory felt increasingly out of reach.

Then, on the eve of their final confrontation, a shadow emerged from the depths of Hell. A figure clad in dark, ethereal armor stepped forward. It was the Reader, reborn as a sinner. Their once-bright eyes now glowed with an eerie crimson light, and their form radiated an unholy power, wreathed in the fiery essence of the underworld.

The process of their transformation had been excruciating. Their soul, once human, had been forged anew by Hell’s brutal forces, reshaped into something darker yet no less determined. Though memories of their sacrifice lingered, the pain of their rebirth was fresh, their mortal body replaced by this fearsome new form. And through it all, their unwavering resolve to protect Charlie had kept them from succumbing to despair.

Charlie stared in disbelief. “You… you’re alive?”

“Not alive,” the Reader replied, their voice resonating with an otherworldly echo. “But not gone, either.” They flexed their clawed fingers, their new strength radiating a fearsome energy. “I’ve been given another chance, Charlie. This time, I’ll finish what I started.”

Their reunion was brief. The urgency of the coming battle left no time for explanations or reconciliation. Though Charlie’s allies eyed the Reader with wary suspicion, her faith in them remained steadfast. Together, they prepared for the final confrontation, the weight of their shared history binding them tighter than ever.

The battle that followed was cataclysmic. Adam faced Charlie and her allies with confidence born of overwhelming power, but he had not anticipated the Reader’s return. They fought with a ferocity born of their new existence, their movements precise and relentless, as though they had been remade for this very purpose.

Charlie and the Reader moved in perfect tandem. While her radiant magic clashed against Adam’s dark energy, the Reader’s newfound strength exploited every opening. Each strike they delivered was fueled by the memory of their sacrifice and the hope they had sworn to protect.

As Adam’s focus remained on Charlie’s unyielding assault, the Reader slipped behind him, their steps silent and deliberate. With a dagger forged from their own soul’s torment, they struck. The blade pierced Adam’s back, driving deep into his core. His roar of agony echoed through the chamber as his power faltered.

“This is for everyone you’ve hurt,” the Reader growled, their voice steady and resolute. “And for the hope you tried to destroy.”

Adam collapsed, his form dissolving into ash and shadow. Silence settled over the chamber. Charlie approached the Reader, her expression a mixture of relief and sadness.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said softly.

The Reader turned to her, their fiery aura dimming. “I couldn’t let your hope die, Charlie. It’s the only light in this darkness.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of their journey pressing down on them. The Reader knew they could never return to who they once were, but in their new form, they had found purpose. As long as Charlie’s dream endured, they would stand by her side, a sinner redeemed by their belief in a better Hell.

❦.

In the aftermath, Charlie’s vision for Hell began to take root. Word of Adam’s defeat spread, and for the first time, whispers of change stirred among the damned. The Reader became a symbol of hope—a sinner who had found redemption, proof that even in the depths of Hell, transformation was possible.

Charlie and the Reader worked tirelessly, forging alliances and dismantling the oppressive structures that had long defined Hell. Their efforts inspired others to join their cause, paving the way for a new era. The road ahead was fraught with challenges, but neither wavered.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢! 🍎

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠 ❤️

I'M BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES.

PLEASE. X-VIRUS/CODY HEADCANNONS OR SMUT. HE DOESN'T GET ENOUGH LOVE. PLEASEE.

-Just some blob on the internet (Ace😋✨)

𝑋-𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑢𝑠 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

A/N: I freaking LOVE Cody, and I wholeheartedly agree that he does not get enough love as the others do—which is odd considering his character design looks similar to Toby’s. Also I wasn’t sure if you meant headcanons for just him or x reader so I incorporated both, I hope that’s okay! Thank you for your request <3

Word Count: 5.1k

TW: NSFW (MDNI) (Also if you’re squeamish with any explicit content, there will be a divider that tells you when to stop reading!)

Reader is Gender-Neutral.

Remember to stay hydrated and eat plenty of food, you are loved!! ❤️

🧪 My Cody stands at 6’1” (185 cm). His height, combined with his lean but muscular frame, gives him an imposing presence.  

🧪 He’s wiry and athletic. His strength is deceptive; while he isn’t bulky, his muscles are well-defined from years of manual labor and survival.  

🧪 Dark brown and messy, often looking like he’s just rolled out of bed. He doesn’t pay much attention to grooming unless it interferes with his work.  

🧪 His eyes are a piercing gray with dark circles underneath, a result of sleepless nights and his obsessive tendencies.  

🧪 Cody’s body is littered with scars from his experiments, fights, and a hard life. The most notable is a jagged scar running along his right forearm from an incident in his youth.  

🧪 He favors dark, practical clothing—hoodies, cargo pants, and boots. His outfits are often splattered with paint, dirt, or the remnants of his experiments.  

🧪 Cody is 24 years old.  

🧪 He’s of mixed European descent, with his pale skin hinting at northern European roots.  

🧪 Cody identifies as pansexual. He’s attracted to individuals based on their personality, intellect, and connection rather than their gender. To him, chemistry and shared intensity are what matter most.  

🧪 While Cody isn’t one for overt romance, he has a deeply possessive and protective streak. If he forms a connection, it’s intense and consuming, making his partner the center of his focus.  

🧪 Born into a chaotic household, Cody experienced neglect and abuse at the hands of his mother. His father was incarcerated, and his adoptive father later met his end by Cody's own hand.  

🧪 While his “hobbies” lean toward the macabre, Cody enjoys reading scientific journals, tinkering with mechanical devices, and sketching out ideas for new experiments.  

🧪 Cody’s knowledge comes from self-teaching and observing his adoptive father’s work. He has a deep understanding of biology, virology, and anatomy despite having no formal qualifications.   

🧪 Cody forms a close bond with Ticci Toby, seeing him as a kindred spirit. They share a dark sense of humor and a mutual understanding of what it means to be an outcast.  

🧪 Masky and Hoodie tolerate Cody, though they view him as unpredictable.  

🧪 Slenderman values Cody’s intelligence and scientific expertise, though he’s wary of his recklessness.  

🧪 Cody finds Jeff the Killer insufferable, viewing his chaotic, impulsive behavior as a lack of discipline.  

🧪 He avoids interactions with Laughing Jack, whose eccentric and erratic demeanor grates on Cody’s nerves.  

🧪 Cody is calculating and observant, always analyzing people and situations. However, he has a short fuse when things don’t go according to plan.  

🧪 He frequently cracks his knuckles and chews on pens when deep in thought.  

🧪 Cody operates on a twisted version of morality, believing that his experiments serve a greater purpose—even if they involve extreme cruelty.   

🧪 Cody resides in an abandoned lab deep in the woods. The space is cluttered with equipment, jars of specimens, and notebooks filled with his observations. Though sometimes he’ll stay at the Manor and help Eyeless Jack with the Infirmary.  

🧪 He has a poor diet, often forgetting to eat while engrossed in his work. When he does eat, it’s usually something quick and practical like canned soup or protein bars.  

🧪 His signature weapon is a bat with nails embedded in it. He also carries a small scalpel, which he uses with precision.

🧪 Cody has a deep, gravelly voice that’s both soothing and unsettling. He speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully.  

🧪 He always smells faintly of antiseptic and metal, a result of his experiments.  

🧪 Cody may seem cold and detached at first, but he warms up to you over time. His affection is subtle—like brushing his fingers against yours or standing just a little closer than necessary when you're out together.  

🧪 Despite his violent tendencies, Cody is surprisingly gentle when it comes to you. He’ll lower his voice and soften his expression when you’re upset, though he doesn’t always know the right words to say.  

🧪 Cody loves listening to your stories about your life. It fascinates him, especially since his own past is riddled with chaos and pain. He quietly takes mental notes about your preferences and habits.  

🧪 On rare occasions, Cody will cook for you. While his culinary skills leave much to be desired (his food is either over-seasoned or undercooked), the effort he puts into it is heartwarming.  

🧪 Whenever you’re feeling stressed or upset, Cody will quietly sit beside you and offer his presence as comfort. He isn’t great with emotional support, but he’ll stay by your side until you feel better.  

🧪 He has a bad habit of bringing you odd “gifts.” Sometimes they’re bizarre trinkets from his victims, but other times, it’s something like a wildflower he found in the woods or a shiny rock he thought you’d like.  

🧪 Cody has a strange sense of humor and loves teasing you in unexpected ways. He might sneak up behind you and whisper something creepy, only to laugh when you jump.  

🧪 He’s surprisingly protective, always keeping you within his line of sight when you're together. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’ll give them a glare that could freeze their blood.  

🧪 Despite his tendency to push others away, Cody allows you into his personal space. You’re the only one who gets to see him without his guard up, whether that means resting his head on your lap or letting you hold his hand.  

🧪 Cody has a fascination with small, intricate objects, and he loves watching you do anything that involves precision—whether it’s painting, writing, or crafting. He’s mesmerized by how focused you look.  

🧪 He struggles with physical affection but tries his best for you. He’ll awkwardly wrap his arms around you or let you cuddle him, though he gets embarrassed easily.  

🧪 Cody loves hearing your laugh. It’s a sound he doesn’t hear often in his life, and he’ll go out of his way to make jokes or do something silly just to see you smile.  

🧪 When you’re asleep, Cody often finds himself watching you. It’s not in a creepy way—he’s just amazed that someone like you would choose to stay with him despite his flaws.  

🧪 He has a habit of collecting things that remind him of you. Whether it’s a leaf that matches your favorite color or a broken charm that looks like something you’d wear, he keeps them all in a hidden box.  

🧪 Cody gets jealous easily but won’t admit it outright. Instead, he’ll become extra protective and clingy, making it obvious to everyone else that you’re his.  

🧪 He enjoys listening to you talk about your dreams and aspirations. Even if he doesn’t always believe in happy endings, he secretly hopes you’ll achieve everything you want.  

🧪 Cody tries to teach you survival skills, insisting that you need to know how to defend yourself in case he isn’t there. His lessons are thorough but filled with genuine care.  

🧪 He’s surprisingly good at sewing and mending clothes. If you tear something, he’ll fix it for you without a second thought, though he grumbles about it being “extra work.”  

🧪Cody enjoys taking you on walks through the woods. He knows all the hidden paths and secret clearings, and he loves showing you places he considers “his.”  

🧪 Whenever you’re scared or nervous, Cody will stand behind you and place a hand on your shoulder. It’s his way of silently reassuring you that he’s there to protect you.  

🧪 Cody is awkward with words, but he’ll often mutter compliments under his breath when he thinks you can’t hear. Things like “You’re really something, you know” or “Can’t believe someone like you puts up with me” escape him sometimes.

🧪 He tries to show affection in practical ways, like sharpening your knives or patching up your gear. He’s not one for grand gestures, but his quiet acts of care speak volumes.  

🧪 Cody doesn’t like to show his vulnerable side, but you’re the only person he trusts enough to let down his walls. Sometimes, he’ll open up about his childhood or nightmares, though it’s rare.  

🧪 When you’re cold, Cody will casually drape his jacket over your shoulders without saying a word. He acts like it’s no big deal, but secretly, he loves how you look in his clothes.  

🧪 If you ever get hurt, Cody is relentless in making sure you’re okay. He’ll hover over you, clean your wounds with an almost clinical precision, and insist on carrying you if you can’t walk.  

🧪  Cody loves it when you play with his hair. He won’t ask for it, but if you start running your fingers through his hair or gently tugging at it, he’ll practically melt under your touch.  

🧪 He has a soft spot for hearing you sing, even if you’re just humming absentmindedly. The sound soothes him, and he’ll often close his eyes and listen, letting it calm his chaotic mind.  

🧪 Cody’s past has made him wary of trusting others, but he’s fiercely loyal to you. If anyone tries to hurt you or betray your trust, he won’t hesitate to deal with them personally.  

🧪 He’s not much of an artist, but Cody occasionally sketches small things in his notebooks—doodles of you, your favorite flower, or anything else that reminds him of you.  

🧪 Cody doesn’t understand traditional romance, but he tries his best to make you feel special. He might not give you roses, but he’ll leave little surprises like a carefully wrapped snack or a handmade bracelet.  

🧪 If you’re ever upset, Cody will do whatever it takes to make you feel better. He’s not great at emotional comfort, but he’ll stay by your side, offer silent support, and maybe even crack a bad joke to lighten the mood.  

🧪 Cody has a habit of stealing little things from you—like a hair tie or a keychain—and keeping them with him. It’s his way of feeling close to you, even when you’re apart.  

🧪 He’s surprisingly good at fixing broken things, whether it’s a piece of jewelry or a faulty flashlight. Cody will sit down with it for hours, determined to make it work again for you.  

🧪 Cody loves the way your hand fits in his. He doesn’t hold hands often, but when he does, he’ll gently squeeze yours as if reassuring himself that you’re really there.  

🧪 He has an uncanny ability to notice when you’re uncomfortable or scared. Cody will immediately step in, either removing you from the situation or making sure whoever caused it regrets their actions.  

🧪 Cody doesn’t like crowds, but he’ll endure them if it means being with you. He’ll stay close, his hand brushing against yours, ready to pull you away if things get too overwhelming.  

🧪 Despite his violent tendencies, Cody is surprisingly gentle with animals. You once caught him feeding a stray cat, and he got flustered when you teased him about it.  

🧪 He loves watching you sleep, not in a creepy way, but because it’s one of the few times he feels at peace. Seeing you so relaxed and vulnerable reminds him of what he’s fighting for.  

🧪 Cody gets easily embarrassed when you compliment him. He’ll scoff or roll his eyes, but the faint blush on his cheeks gives him away every time.  

🧪 He’s incredibly observant and remembers the smallest details about you—your favorite food, the way you like your tea, or how you always hum a specific tune when you’re happy.  

🧪 Cody has a habit of calling you by teasing nicknames, though they’re never mean-spirited. He enjoys the playful banter and the way it makes you roll your eyes at him.  

🧪 He doesn’t celebrate holidays, but he’ll go out of his way to make them special for you. Whether it’s cooking a special meal or finding a small gift, he’ll do his best to make you smile.  

🧪 Cody has a low, raspy laugh that’s rare but incredibly genuine. Hearing you tell a joke or do something silly is one of the few things that can coax it out of him.  

🧪 He’s surprisingly good at building small things, like birdhouses or little wooden trinkets. He once made you a tiny figurine of your favorite animal, though he played it off like it was nothing.  

🧪 Cody is always on high alert when you’re together in dangerous areas. He’ll walk slightly ahead of you, his bat at the ready, making sure no harm comes your way.  

🧪 He doesn’t like to show weakness, but when he’s injured, he trusts you to patch him up. Your gentle care is one of the few things that can make him let his guard down.  

🧪 Cody loves quiet moments with you, like sitting by a campfire or stargazing. He doesn’t need words to feel connected to you—just your presence is enough.  

🧪 He’s fiercely protective of you, to the point where he’ll challenge anyone who looks at you the wrong way. Cody doesn’t care about making enemies as long as you’re safe.  

🧪 Cody has a habit of touching his scars when he’s deep in thought. If you ask him about them, he’ll open up, but only if he feels safe with you.  

🧪 He treasures every moment he spends with you, even if it’s just sitting in silence. Cody doesn’t say it often, but he can’t imagine his life without you in it.

🧪 Cody is well-endowed, with a length around 7.5 inches when erect and a girth that’s above average, making him both noticeable and a bit intimidating.  

🧪 He’s uncut, with a smooth, clean appearance that reflects his tendency for practicality and hygiene despite his chaotic lifestyle. His skin tone there matches his overall complexion but darkens slightly at the tip when aroused.  

🧪 Cody is highly sensitive, particularly around the underside and the base. While he’s confident and composed, certain touches can elicit sharp reactions, revealing a rare vulnerability.  

🧪 He has prominent veins that stand out when he’s fully aroused, adding to his rugged and primal appearance.  

🧪 Cody keeps himself neatly trimmed, though not obsessively so. He prefers minimal maintenance to avoid distractions from his experiments.

🧪 Cody is experienced but not overly promiscuous. His confidence comes from a natural understanding of people and anatomy rather than a long list of partners. 

🧪 Cody is extremely possessive and demanding during intimate moments. He relishes leaving visible marks—bites, hickeys, and scratches—as a way of claiming you (Or if you do it to him, he sees it as a way to be claimed in return). Seeing those marks later fills him with a deep, primal satisfaction.

🧪 His kisses are fierce and consuming, as if he’s trying to devour every part of you. He loves holding your face firmly in his hands, making sure you can’t look away from him while he’s kissing you.  

🧪 Cody has a love-hate relationship with control in the bedroom. While he often dominates, he secretly enjoys the rare moments when you take charge and make him lose himself under your touch.  

🧪 His favorite place to touch you is your neck. Whether it’s light brushes with his fingertips, possessive grips, or gentle nips with his teeth, he’s obsessed with how sensitive you are there.  

🧪 Cody has a surprisingly sharp sense of what makes you tick. He pays attention to every gasp, shiver, or moan, learning exactly how to push you over the edge.  

🧪 Despite his tough exterior, Cody is incredibly attentive to your needs in bed. He’s hyper-focused on your reactions, always ensuring you’re enjoying yourself as much as he is.  

🧪 He’s not big on verbal communication during intimacy due to his reserved nature, but if he is starts becoming feral he’ll start to let out low, raspy groans and primal grunts that are impossibly arousing–sometimes even cursing and praising you. Can you blame him though? The sound of your name on his lips when he’s lost in the moment is intoxicating.  

🧪 Cody is rough but never careless. He loves the thrill of pinning you down or gripping your hips tightly, but he’s always aware of your limits and will stop immediately if you ask him to.

🧪 His hands are calloused from years of hard work and violence, and he loves running them over your skin. The contrast between his rough palms and your softness drives him wild.  

🧪 Cody is not shy about taking his time with you. He enjoys teasing, making you squirm and beg before finally giving you what you want. The power play excites him.  

🧪 His favorite positions are ones where he can see your face—he loves watching your expressions as he pushes you closer to the edge. The intimacy of those moments makes his heart race.  

🧪 Cody enjoys experimenting with power dynamics. Whether it’s binding your wrists with something improvised or letting you take the lead for a change, he’s always up for pushing boundaries safely.  

🧪 He loves the idea of you being completely undone for him and only him. Knowing that he can reduce you to a breathless, trembling mess gives him a rush of pride and possessiveness.   

🧪 He has a habit of whispering dirty things in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Sometimes, his words are sweet and adoring; other times, they’re raw and primal, leaving you flushed.  

🧪 Cody gets turned on by the idea of you being just as rough with him as he is with you. Scratches down his back bite marks or firm grips on his shoulders excite him and make him feel like you’re just as possessive of him as he is of you.

🧪 Cody has a voyeuristic streak. While he wouldn’t force anything on you, the idea of someone catching a glimpse of how good he makes you feel excites him in a twisted way.  

🧪 He loves it when you wear his clothes—especially his oversized shirts or jackets. The sight of you in his things is enough to drive him crazy, and it usually ends with him pulling them off you.  

🧪 Cody can be unexpectedly tender during sex. On nights when he’s feeling particularly vulnerable, he’ll take his time with you, savoring every moment and treating you with the utmost care.  

🧪 As I mentioned earlier, he’s obsessed with the way you say his name when you’re lost in pleasure. Hearing you moan or whisper it ignites something primal in him, and he’ll do everything he can to hear it again.

🧪 Cody has a habit of holding your hips tightly, sometimes leaving faint bruises. He loves the feeling of your body against his and the way you move under his touch.  

🧪 He enjoys taking you by surprise. Whether it’s sneaking up behind you to kiss your neck or pulling you into his lap when you least expect it, he thrives on your startled reactions.

🧪 He loves experimenting with temperature play—running ice along your skin or using warm oil to heighten your sensitivity. Watching you squirm under the sensations is exhilarating for him.  

🧪 Cody has a habit of tracing your scars or imperfections with his fingers, whispering how beautiful you are. He sees every mark as a testament to your strength and finds them incredibly alluring. 

🧪 Cody loves intimacy outdoors, especially in secluded spots like the woods. There’s something thrilling about being exposed to nature while still keeping the act private.  

🧪 He has a soft spot for moments when you’re vulnerable with him. Whether it’s during quiet pillow talk or when you’re completely bare in his arms, he treasures your trust deeply.  

🧪 Cody has a primal need to protect you, and that intensity carries over into the bedroom. He’s both passionate and possessive, as if reminding you that you’re his and only his.

🧪 Cody has a habit of pulling your hair—not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make your head tilt back so he can kiss your neck. The sound of your breath hitching drives him crazy.  

🧪 He’s obsessed with watching you lose control. Whether it’s your trembling legs, flushed skin, or the way you cling to him, he thrives on seeing the effect he has on you.  

🧪 Cody enjoys trying new things in bed, especially if it’s something you suggest. He’s adventurous and loves exploring new ways to connect with you intimately.  

🧪 His favorite moments are when you’re completely at his mercy, trusting him to guide you. The vulnerability you show him in those moments makes him feel deeply connected to you.  

🧪 Cody has a thing for whispered confessions during intimacy. Hearing you tell him how much you want or love him in breathy tones only makes him more intense and focused.  

🧪 He has a fondness for slow, drawn-out sessions where he takes his time exploring every part of you. On nights like this, he’s uncharacteristically tender, almost reverent.  

🧪 Cody gets turned on by the smallest things—like the way you bite your lip or tilt your head when you’re flustered. Sometimes, a single glance is enough to ignite his desire.  

🧪 He loves kissing every inch of your body, especially the parts you’re insecure about. He’ll take his time showing you just how much he adores every detail about you.  

🧪 Cody is possessive about his space, but he loves it when you leave little traces of yourself in his environment—your scent on his sheets or your clothes in his room. It reminds him that you’re his. 

🧪 He enjoys the element of surprise in the bedroom, whether it’s catching you off guard with a sudden kiss or pulling you into his arms at an unexpected moment.  

🧪 Cody loves hearing you beg for him. Whether it’s for more kisses, rougher touches, or just his attention, the sound of your desperate voice is intoxicating to him.  

🧪 He has a habit of gripping your thighs during intimacy, leaving faint bruises as a reminder of how tightly he held you. He loves the way your body fits perfectly against his. 

🧪 Cody can be a bit of a tease, often stopping just before you reach your peak, making you plead with him to continue. The power he feels in those moments is exhilarating.  

🧪 He’s fascinated by the way you respond to him. Every gasp, moan, or arch of your back feels like a reward, and he’ll do whatever it takes to elicit more of those reactions.  

🧪 Cody loves it when you wear something that’s just for him—whether it’s lingerie or one of his shirts. The idea that you dressed up specifically to entice him sends his desire into overdrive.  

🧪 He has a thing for eye contact during intimacy. The intensity of his gaze as he watches you unravel under his touch is almost overwhelming, but it’s also deeply intimate.  

🧪 Cody loves the feeling of your nails digging into his back. The sting of your scratches serves as a reminder of just how much you want him, and he wears the marks proudly.  

🧪 He’s surprisingly playful in bed at times, peppering you with teasing kisses or making you laugh before things get serious. He loves the mix of passion and lightheartedness.

🧪 Cody values secrecy in all aspects of his life, including intimacy. He prefers secluded locations or settings where he can completely lose himself without fear of interruption. 

🧪 Cody is drawn to the visual aspect of intimacy—messy hair, flushed cheeks, and lingering touches ignite something deep within him.  

🧪 Cody hides a softer side, which only surfaces during particularly tender moments. He struggles to show this vulnerability but cherishes it when he does.  

🧪 He’s particularly sensitive to touch and smell. The feel of someone’s hands on his scars or their scent lingering on his clothes can leave him distracted for hours.  

🧪 Cody approaches intimacy the same way he approaches his experiments—with focus and intensity. He thrives on exploring every sensation, pushing himself to the limits.  

🧪 Cody’s mind often wanders to darker scenarios. While he keeps most of these thoughts to himself, they fuel his intensity during private moments.  

🧪 Cody exudes confidence during intimate moments, using his knowledge of anatomy and sensitivity to take full control of the situation.  

🧪 He rarely uses words to express affection but instead shows it through physical acts, like holding someone close or lingering touches.  

🧪 Cody’s past influences his views on intimacy. While he craves connection, he often struggles with guilt and insecurity.  

🧪 Cody prefers slow, deliberate actions that build up intensity over time. He enjoys savoring every moment.  

🧪He enjoys being physically close, finding comfort in the warmth and presence of another person.  

🧪 When someone places their trust in him, especially in vulnerable situations, Cody feels an overwhelming sense of responsibility and protectiveness.  

🧪 Despite his dominant tendencies, Cody exercises significant restraint, ensuring that his actions never cross into disrespect or harm. 

🧪 His body tends to run a little colder than average, which is reflected in his skin’s temperature. However, during moments of passion, his arousal heats him up noticeably.  

🧪 Cody’s stamina is impressive, thanks to his athletic build and endurance. He can go for multiple rounds, and his recovery time is remarkably quick.  

🧪Clean and slightly metallic, reflecting his hygienic practices and the environment he works in. There’s always a faint hint of antiseptic, though it’s never overpowering.  

🧪 He’s a heavy pre-cum producer, and it starts leaking early on, a sign of his intense arousal.  

🧪 Cody prides himself on his self-control. He can hold back for long periods to draw out pleasure, but when he loses himself, his release is powerful and overwhelming.  

🧪 He rarely makes loud noises but instead lets out deep, guttural groans. His hips buck instinctively when he’s overstimulated, and his hands tend to grip whatever’s nearest.  

🧪 Cody’s climaxes are intense and leave him momentarily breathless. His body tenses up completely before releasing in a wave of satisfaction.  

🧪 He’s not someone who indulges often, preferring quality over quantity. When he does, it’s an all-consuming experience for both him and his partner.  

🧪 His idea of aftercare is quiet but deeply caring. He’ll clean you up with a damp cloth, pull you into his arms, and stroke your hair while you catch your breath. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes. 

🧪 Despite his rough exterior, Cody is surprisingly mindful after intimate moments. After finishing, Cody is quieter than usual, his intense energy replaced with a rare softness. His idea of aftercare is quiet but deeply caring. He’s attentive, he’ll clean you up with a damp cloth and get you something to drink or eat to restore energy—or if you’re up to it he’ll even take a steamy bath or shower with you to clean further. Afterwards, Cody will climb back into bed and often pull his partner close to share the lingering intimacy, while his hands brush hair out of his partner’s face and lazily trace patterns on your skin. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes. 

🧪 These quiet moments of intimacy are his favorite, reminding him that, despite everything, he’s found someone who truly accepts him.

🧪 Kinks (Although these were already mentioned, put I wanted to create list for everyone to see ;)):

Dominance and Control: Cody thrives on power dynamics. He enjoys being in control, whether it’s through physical dominance or psychological teasing. His dominance isn’t loud or forceful but quiet and commanding.  

Intellectual Stimulation: Cody is turned on by a sharp mind. A partner who can challenge him intellectually or match his wit earns his full attention.  

Sensory Play: He loves exploring the senses. Blindfolds, temperature changes, and heightened tactile sensations are tools he enjoys using to create unique and unforgettable experiences.  

Biting: Cody is a biter, both giving and receiving. He loves the raw, primal connection that comes with leaving or receiving marks.  

Rough Play: He’s into roughness, such as gripping, hair pulling, and controlled aggression. However, he’s always careful not to cross any boundaries.  

Possessiveness: Cody enjoys the idea of “claiming” his partner, whether through leaving marks, whispered words, or lingering touches that remind them they belong to him.  

Voyeurism: Cody has a voyeuristic streak. He’s fascinated by watching reactions—how a partner’s body moves, their facial expressions, and the subtle changes in their breathing.

Praise and Degradation: He’s skilled at blending praise with degradation, creating a dynamic where his partner feels both wanted and vulnerable under his control.  

Bondage: Cody is intrigued by restraint and confinement, using ropes, cuffs, or makeshift tools to explore power dynamics and vulnerability.  

Experimental Curiosity: True to his scientific nature, Cody enjoys experimenting in intimate scenarios. He’s open to trying new things as long as they align with mutual consent.  

Aftercare: Despite his intensity, Cody is attentive and caring after intimacy. He understands the importance of grounding his partner and making them feel safe and appreciated.  

Exhibitionism in Controlled Environments: While not reckless, Cody enjoys the idea of being seen in private, controlled settings where the possibility adds an edge of excitement.  

Dirty Talk: Cody has a low, gravelly voice that becomes even more intoxicating when he uses it for dirty talk. He’s skilled at weaving both commanding and teasing tones to leave his partner breathless.  

Voyeuristic Teasing: Cody enjoys making his partner feel observed and desired, even outside of intimacy. A subtle, lingering gaze or a whispered comment can set the tone for what’s to come. 

Slow-Build Intensity: Cody loves drawing things out, building tension slowly until the intensity is almost unbearable. He thrives on the anticipation as much as the act itself.

Partners with a Strong Personality: Cody is drawn to partners who have a strong sense of self and aren’t afraid to challenge him. He finds the contrast between their strength and their vulnerability during intimacy thrilling.

Scar and Injury Exploration: Cody’s scars are part of his identity, and he’s intrigued by the marks on others. He finds a strange comfort in tracing or kissing scars, viewing them as stories written on the body.

Non-Verbal Cues: Cody has a talent for reading body language and enjoys communicating without words during intimate moments, letting movements and touches speak volumes.  

Edge Play: While careful to maintain trust and safety, Cody enjoys exploring physical and emotional edges, walking the fine line between control and surrender.

Intense Eye Contact: Cody uses prolonged, piercing eye contact to establish dominance and deepen the connection during intimacy. 

Discretion and Secrecy: Cody finds thrill in keeping intimate moments hidden, making shared secrets feel even more private and intense.  

Roleplay: Occasionally, Cody enjoys scenarios that play into power imbalances or forbidden dynamics, adding an element of fantasy to the encounter.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢! 💚

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑖 𝑎𝑛𝑑 @𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠

𝐼𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟

𝐴 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑐𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

A/N: Here she is, the final part to the ‘I Love You, I’m Sorry’ series. As sad as I am to let this series go (since it helped me grow so much on here) I’m excited to write many more stories for all my lovelies to enjoy. So without further ado I present to you: A Legacy of Light.

Word Count: 4.6k

TW: Nothing major, reader does get sad remembering Vi but that’s about it!

Reader is a female!

Remember to hydrate and eat plenty of food. You are loved! ❤️

The decision to leave Piltover and Zaun had been brewing for months, but it was only on the coldest, quietest night of the year that you finally acted on it. The city of Piltover was never truly silent, yet in those final moments, as you packed the last of your belongings into a weathered suitcase, the world felt muffled—as if the city itself understood the gravity of your departure.

You didn’t look back as you walked through the cobbled streets, the towering spires and glimmering lights fading behind you. Vi’s voice, Caitlyn’s sharp gaze, the smoky air of Zaun’s undercity—they all blurred together into a single chapter of your life that you were now determined to close. You needed a fresh start, a place untainted by memories of what could have been.

Demacia became that beacon of possibility. You’d heard tales of its golden fields, unyielding laws, and steadfast people. It was a city that promised order, safety, and clarity—everything your life had lacked since you had met her.

                                                 ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The journey to Demacia was long and grueling. The air grew crisper with each passing mile, the lush forests and rolling hills standing in stark contrast to the industrial sprawl you’d left behind. As your carriage creaked along the winding road, you stared out the window, trying to imagine what awaited you. Would it be a new life? A second chance? Or just another city with its own brand of heartbreak?

The driver—a grizzled man who had introduced himself as Loryn—occasionally glanced back at you, his weathered face marked by curiosity. “First time heading to Demacia?” he asked, his tone warm but cautious.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Loryn took your silence in stride, continuing his story without prompting. “It’s a good place, you know. Not perfect, but no place is. They’ve got rules for everything, though. Some folks don’t like that, but me? I think rules keep us honest.”

Rules. Honesty. Those words hung heavy in your mind. Piltover had its own rules, but they had been written to favor those at the top. Zaun, on the other hand, thrived in chaos. Could Demacia truly be different?

                                                  ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

By the time you arrived at the city gates, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the white stone walls that towered above you. Guards clad in silver armor stood at attention, their faces stern but not unkind. The emblem of a soaring eagle—the symbol of Demacia—was etched into their chest plates, a reminder of the city’s values: justice, loyalty, and strength.

“State your business,” one of the guards said as Loryn brought the carriage to a halt.

You hesitated, your words catching in your throat. What was your business here? To start over? To forget? To find something—or someone—that made sense of the mess you’d left behind?

“I… I’m looking for a new home,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the tumult inside.

The guard studied you for a moment, then nodded. “Welcome to Demacia. Obey the laws, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

With that, the gates creaked open, revealing the city beyond. Your breath caught as you took in the sight: wide streets paved with pristine stone, towering buildings of marble and glass, and people moving with purpose and poise. Children laughed as they chased one another through the plazas, and merchants called out cheerfully to passersby. For a moment, it felt as though you’d stepped into a dream.

                                               ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Your first days in Demacia were a blur of new sights and sensations. You rented a modest room above a bakery, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through your window each morning. The city was both familiar and alien, its structure orderly yet alive with an undercurrent of quiet determination. People here spoke with a kind of confidence you hadn’t heard in Piltover or Zaun—not the sharp-edged ambition of the former or the desperate defiance of the latter, but something steady, grounded.

It didn’t take long for you to notice how different you felt here. In Piltover, you’d always been one step behind, trying to navigate its shifting alliances and hidden agendas. In Zaun, you’d been swallowed by its chaos, struggling to hold onto any semblance of stability. But in Demacia, there was a clarity that had eluded you for so long. Here, people followed rules not out of fear, but out of respect for the order those rules provided.

Still, the adjustment wasn’t easy. You found yourself haunted by memories of Vi, her laughter echoing in your mind when the nights grew too quiet. You’d catch glimpses of pink hair in a crowded market or hear a voice that sounded just like hers, and for a fleeting moment, hope would flare in your chest before reality doused it once more.

“Let her go,” you whispered to yourself one night as you sat by the window, watching the city lights twinkle like stars. But the words felt hollow, a mantra you repeated without truly believing.

                                             ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

It was a chance encounter that began to shift things for you. One afternoon, as you wandered through a bustling market square, a young woman with golden hair and piercing blue eyes nearly collided with you, her arms full of books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, quickly kneeling to gather the scattered volumes.

“It’s fine,” you said, bending down to help her. As you handed her a particularly heavy tome, your eyes met, and something about her gaze struck you. It was warm, but there was a spark of curiosity there, as if she saw something in you that you didn’t yet see in yourself.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked, her tone more intrigued than accusatory.

You shook your head. “Just arrived a few days ago. Still finding my way.”

She smiled, and it was like sunlight breaking through the clouds. “Welcome, then. I’m Luxanna Crownguard.”

                                              ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Luxanna became your first true friend in Demacia. As a member of the prominent Crownguard family, she carried herself with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. Yet beneath her polished exterior was a kindness and curiosity that put you at ease. She listened without judgment as you recounted pieces of your past, and she shared stories of her own—a mix of duty and rebellion, of light and shadow.

“I know what it’s like to feel out of place,” she admitted one evening as the two of you sat by a fountain in the city square. “Demacia can be… rigid. But it can also be beautiful, if you know where to look.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure you’d found that beauty just yet.

                                               ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

As the weeks turned into months, Luxanna became your guide, both to the city and to yourself. She introduced you to the subtle intricacies of Demacian life—the unspoken rules that governed its people, the moments of joy hidden between its rigid laws. With her help, you began to navigate this new world, not as an outsider but as someone who belonged.

Lux had a way of finding light even in the darkest corners. One day, she took you to a meadow just outside the city, where wildflowers swayed in the breeze and the golden sunlight bathed everything in warmth.

“This is my favorite place,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “When the world feels too heavy, I come here. It reminds me that no matter how much we try to control everything, life has a way of growing wild and free.”

You looked at her then, truly looked at her, and saw the duality she carried. On the surface, she was every inch the perfect Demacian noble—poised, disciplined, a paragon of light. But beneath that, there was a spark of defiance, a yearning for something more.

“Thank you,” you said, the words heavy with meaning. For the first time, you felt as though you’d found a kindred spirit—someone who understood the weight of expectations and the courage it took to defy them.

Lux smiled, her golden hair catching the sunlight. “For what?”

“For being you.”

                                              ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Your life in Demacia began to take shape. By day, you continued your work as a scribe in the city’s archives, your hands stained with ink as you meticulously cataloged the history of a land you were just beginning to understand. By night, you found yourself drawn into Lux’s orbit, whether it was quiet conversations by the fountain or spirited debates about the world beyond Demacia’s walls.

Lux’s curiosity was infectious. She asked questions that forced you to think, to confront the pieces of yourself you’d tried to leave behind. And slowly, you began to share more—not just about Piltover and Zaun, but about Vi and the life you’d built together. The pain was still there, but it no longer consumed you. Instead, it became a part of the story you were telling, a thread woven into the tapestry of who you were.

“I think Vi would’ve liked you,” you said one evening as the two of you walked along the city’s outer wall, the stars shimmering overhead. “She had this… fire about her. She made you believe anything was possible.”

Lux tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “She sounds incredible. But you know, you don’t have to let go of her to move forward. The people we’ve loved—they shape us. They stay with us in ways we don’t always realize.”

Her words stayed with you long after you parted ways that night. For the first time, you began to see your past not as a burden but as a foundation—something to build upon rather than escape from.

                                          ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

One day, while sorting through the archives, you stumbled upon a collection of old journals belonging to a Demacian explorer who had ventured beyond the city’s borders centuries ago. The journals were filled with sketches of far-off lands, detailed maps, and reflections on the world outside Demacia’s walls. 

You found yourself captivated by the explorer’s words, their yearning for discovery mirroring your own. Inspired, you began to sketch out your own map—not of geography, but of your journey. You drew Piltover’s towering spires, Zaun’s labyrinthine undercity, and Demacia’s golden fields. Each place was a chapter, a marker of where you’d been and where you were headed.

When Lux saw the map, her eyes lit up. “This is incredible,” she said, tracing her fingers over the lines. “You’re telling a story—not just with words, but with places.”

“It’s not finished yet,” you said, suddenly self-conscious.

“Neither are you,” she replied with a smile. “And that’s the beauty of it.”

                                              ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

As the seasons changed, so did your bond with Lux. What had started as friendship deepened into something more—an unspoken connection that defied words. There were moments when her hand would brush yours, or her laughter would fill the air, and you’d feel a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.

But there was also a hesitance, a fear of what it might mean to let someone in again. You’d been burned before, and the scars were still fresh. Lux seemed to sense this, never pushing, always giving you the space to heal at your own pace.

One evening, as you sat together on the steps of the palace courtyard, she turned to you, her blue eyes searching. “Do you ever think about what’s next? Where your journey will take you?”

You hesitated, the question both simple and profound. “I don’t know. For so long, I was running—from Piltover, from Zaun, from myself. But now… I think I’m ready to stop running.”

Lux smiled, her expression equal parts relief and joy. “Then maybe it’s time to start building.”

Building wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. You began to take more risks, to push yourself beyond the safety of routine. You joined Lux in her efforts to bridge the gaps within Demacia, helping her bring stories and music to the people. Together, you found ways to celebrate the diversity of the city, to show its people that unity didn’t have to mean uniformity.

There were challenges, of course. Demacia’s laws were strict, and not everyone appreciated Lux’s unconventional approach. But she faced each obstacle with a quiet strength that inspired you. And when doubts crept in, you reminded her of her own words: “You’re not finished yet.”

Neither were you.

                                            ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The first time you kissed Lux, it was beneath the same stars you’d gazed at so many nights before. The city lay quiet around you, the air crisp with the promise of winter. It wasn’t planned or dramatic—just a simple moment of connection, a spark that had been waiting to ignite.

As your lips parted, she rested her forehead against yours, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever stop running.”

You smiled, the weight of the past finally lifting. “I think I’ve found what I was looking for.”

In the end, your journey wasn’t about leaving Piltover or finding Demacia. It was about finding yourself—about realizing that the person you’d been searching for had been there all along. With Lux by your side, you began to dream again, to imagine a future full of possibility and light.

And for the first time in a long while, you weren’t afraid of what came next.

                                         ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The kiss lingered in your mind, replaying in fragments that felt like they were etched into the very fabric of your soul. Lux had a way of making the simplest moments monumental. Her golden hair shimmered in the starlight that night, and the warmth of her hand in yours was more grounding than any words could be. That single moment marked a turning point in your life, a quiet affirmation that you were no longer just surviving but finally living.

But life, even in the golden city of Demacia, was never without its complications.

                                          ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Lux’s life was a web of obligations, expectations, and secrets, and being close to her meant brushing up against them. As a Crownguard, she was a prominent figure in Demacia, the face of a family that embodied its ideals of strength and loyalty. Yet behind closed doors, she wrestled with her own conflicts. She was not just Luxanna Crownguard, Demacia’s light—she was a young woman with dreams, doubts, and a secret that could shatter the foundation of her carefully crafted image: her magic.

Demacia’s strict laws against magic were no secret. The very idea of wielding it was an affront to everything the city stood for. And yet, Lux’s magic wasn’t something she chose—it was part of her, as intrinsic as her light-filled smile or her unyielding spirit. She confided in you one night, her voice trembling as she spoke of the fear that shadowed her every step.

“I’ve spent so much of my life hiding,” she said, her hands clasped tightly together. “Hiding from my family, from the city, from myself. Sometimes I wonder if they would still see me as Luxanna Crownguard if they knew the truth.”

You reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You are so much more than their expectations, Lux. Your magic doesn’t define you—it’s just one part of the incredible person you are.”

She looked at you then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “Scared of what happens if I stop hiding.”

“Then let me stand with you,” you said, your voice steady. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

                                           ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Those words weren’t just a promise—they were a vow. Together, you and Lux began to navigate the uncharted territory of honesty, trust, and defiance. You helped her find moments of quiet solace where she could practice her magic without fear, away from the watchful eyes of the city. In those hidden spaces, she seemed freer, more herself. Light would dance at her fingertips, weaving patterns in the air that took your breath away.

“I’ve never shown anyone this before,” she said one evening as a delicate aurora shimmered between her hands. “Not even my brother.”

“Why now?” you asked, mesmerized by the display.

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “Because with you, I feel safe.”

                                              ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

As Lux grew more comfortable embracing her true self, you found your own courage growing in tandem. You began to step out of the shadows of your past, sharing your story not just with her but with others in the city. Your work in the archives became more than a job—it became a mission. You unearthed stories of those who had faced challenges like yours, people who had dared to challenge the status quo, who had forged new paths despite the odds.

You shared these stories with Lux, and together, you began to weave them into something bigger: a vision of a Demacia that could embrace its complexities rather than fearing them. It was a vision that sparked conversations in quiet corners and gatherings, a ripple that began to spread through the city.

But change was never easy, and resistance was inevitable.

                                            ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

There were those in Demacia who clung fiercely to its traditions, who saw any deviation from the norm as a threat to the city’s stability. Whispers began to circulate—about Lux’s growing influence, about the questions she was encouraging people to ask. Some even began to suspect the truth about her magic, though no one dared voice it openly.

One day, as you walked through the market, you overheard a group of merchants discussing her.

“She’s too idealistic,” one man said, his tone dismissive. “Demacia doesn’t need change—it needs strength.”

“Strength without compassion is just tyranny,” you found yourself saying, the words escaping before you could think better of it.

The man turned to you, his expression incredulous. “And who are you to speak of strength? You’re not even one of us.”

The words stung, but you held your ground. “Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I’ve seen what happens when a city refuses to grow, when it clings so tightly to its rules that it forgets the people those rules are meant to serve. Demacia can be better than that. It *is* better than that.”

                                        ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

Lux was waiting for you when you returned home that evening, her expression a mix of concern and admiration.

“You’re brave, you know that?” she said, her voice soft.

“Or foolish,” you replied with a small smile. “But I couldn’t just stand there and say nothing.”

She stepped closer, her hands brushing yours. “It’s not foolish to stand up for what you believe in. It’s what makes you… you.”

Her words stayed with you, a reminder that courage wasn’t the absence of fear but the choice to act despite it. Together, you and Lux continued to push forward, even as the obstacles grew. You began to dream of a future where Demacia could be a place not just of order and strength, but of understanding and unity.

                                           ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

That future felt closer than ever one evening as you stood with Lux in the meadow she loved so much. The stars stretched endlessly above you, their light mirrored in her eyes. She took your hands in hers, her expression filled with both determination and vulnerability.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I do know this: I want you by my side. No matter what comes, I want us to face it together.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and resolve. “Always.”

                                            ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

As the days turned into weeks, the challenges ahead remained daunting, but you faced them with a newfound sense of purpose. Lux’s magic, your past, Demacia’s future—they were all threads in a tapestry that was still being woven. And while the path ahead was uncertain, one thing was clear: you were no longer running.

In Lux’s light, you had found your own. And together, you were ready to illuminate a world that was far from perfect but brimming with possibility.

                                              ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The years passed in a blur of joy, challenges, and triumphs. The Demacia you and Lux had envisioned together slowly began to take shape. It wasn’t easy—progress never was—but step by step, the city began to grow into a place where differences could coexist, where strength was balanced with compassion, and where secrets were no longer met with fear but with understanding.

Your journey with Lux wasn’t without its struggles. There were moments when the weight of expectations and the enormity of your shared dream felt overwhelming. But through it all, Lux remained your anchor, her light guiding you forward even in the darkest of times. And you, in turn, became her safe haven, the person who reminded her that she was loved for who she was, not for what she represented.

                                               ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The day you and Lux married was one of the brightest in Demacia’s history—not just because of the occasion, but because it felt like a celebration of everything you’d both fought for. The ceremony was held in a sunlit meadow outside the city, surrounded by friends, family, and the golden fields that Lux loved so much. 

She looked radiant as she walked toward you, her golden hair catching the sunlight and her blue eyes filled with a mixture of joy and determination. Her dress was simple yet elegant, adorned with subtle designs reminiscent of stars and light. She carried a bouquet of wildflowers, their vibrant colors a reflection of her spirit.

As you exchanged vows, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you. Lux’s voice trembled with emotion as she spoke. 

“You’ve shown me what it means to be truly free—to live without fear, to love without hesitation. With you, I’ve found not just a partner but a home. Today, I promise to stand by your side, no matter what comes, and to love you with all that I am.”

When it was your turn, you struggled to hold back tears. “Lux, you’ve brought light to every corner of my life. With you, I’ve found a purpose, a future, and a love I never thought possible. I promise to honor your light, to walk with you in every shadow, and to build a life with you that shines brighter than the stars.”

As you sealed your vows with a kiss, the crowd erupted into cheers, and Lux’s radiant smile was all you could see. For the first time in years, the future felt not just possible but beautiful.

                                               ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

The years that followed were filled with moments both big and small—moments that shaped your family, your future, and the world you called home. Lux’s leadership and your steady presence helped guide Demacia through times of change. Together, you built a life filled with laughter, love, and the kind of warmth that made even the hardest days bearable. Your children became the living embodiment of your shared dreams.

The eldest, a girl with Lux’s golden hair and your quiet determination, possessed a mind as sharp as her heart was kind. Her curiosity was boundless, and she often joined you in the archives, lost in books as you had once been. The youngest, a boy with eyes as blue as the summer sky, inherited Lux’s playful spirit and her remarkable ability to bring people together. His laughter echoed through the halls of your home, a sound as bright and comforting as the light you both worked so hard to protect.

As the years passed, your children began to ask questions about their parents’ past. Lux would smile as she shared stories of how you’d met, of how you had helped her find the courage to embrace who she truly was. You added your own tales—of Piltover and Zaun, of hardship and hope, resilience and growth. Together, you taught your children the value of standing up for what they believed in, of forging their own paths, just as you both had.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, you stood with Lux on the balcony of your home. The laughter of your children floated up from the garden below, filling the air with a deep sense of contentment. Lux leaned against you, her hand resting on yours. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” she asked softly.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Every day. And I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.”

Her gaze met yours, her eyes shining with the same light that had captivated you all those years ago. “I never thought I’d have this,” she admitted. “A family. A life where I could be myself. It’s more than I ever dreamed of.”

You kissed her gently, your heart full. “You deserve all of it, Lux. And so much more.”

Time softened the edges of your memories, reshaping them into something distant and bittersweet. The weight of your past—Piltover, Zaun, and Vi—faded like smoke on the wind, no longer a shadow over your present. There was no regret in forgetting, only gratitude for the journey that had brought you here. Vi had once been part of your life, her fierce determination a beacon when you felt lost. But as the years unfolded with Lux, those echoes grew quieter, replaced by the vibrant symphony of your new life. 

One afternoon, while sorting through old belongings in the attic, your hand brushed against a small trinket from Piltover—a token Vi had given you long ago. For a moment, you sat with it, turning it over in your hands. The memory it brought felt distant, like a dream from another lifetime. Instead of longing or regret, you felt only a quiet sense of closure. Vi had been a chapter in your story, but she wasn’t its ending.

Lux appeared at the top of the stairs, sunlight catching in her golden hair. “What’s that?” she asked softly.

“Just something from a long time ago,” you replied, setting it back into the box. “It doesn’t mean much anymore.”

She knelt beside you, her hand resting on yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head with a smile. “No. I’ve already left it behind.”

She kissed your cheek, her voice warm. “Come downstairs when you’re ready. The kids are making cookies, and they need your ‘expert’ guidance.”

You laughed as she descended the stairs, her light footsteps echoing in the quiet space. Rising to follow her, you left the remnants of your past where they belonged.

Years later, as you sat by the hearth with your children, you told them stories of adventure, of lessons learned and challenges overcome. Piltover and Zaun became part of those tales—not as wounds, but as distant chapters that had shaped you. Vi’s name never came up—not out of avoidance, but because it no longer needed to. 

Your children only knew the life you had built with Lux—a life filled with love, laughter, and light. They saw strength in their mother’s resolve, kindness in your words, and unity in the bond you shared. 

On a starry evening, standing hand-in-hand with Lux as your children played in the garden below, you looked at the life you had created. The memories of your past had become whispers, distant sketches in the margins of a story far richer and fuller than you’d ever dreamed. Forgetting hadn’t been an act of loss, but one of growth—a quiet acceptance of the person you had become.

Lux squeezed your hand, her presence steady and familiar. In her light, in the joy of your children’s laughter, you found everything you had ever been searching for. And as the stars above twinkled like tiny beacons of hope, you knew this was only the beginning of a legacy that would shine for generations to come.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢! ☀️

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑜

I love this sm!! 🥹 @writeriguess did an absolute amazing job!! Please go check their work out, they are truly talented!! ❤️

Hi lovely! I’m not sure if you do this, but I would love to see poly!141 x reader! Preferably angsty or comfort (If not, then could I get one with Soap?)

Thank you my darling! ❤️❤️

Ghosts of the Past

The darkness felt suffocating.

Sweat clung to your skin, the thin fabric of your shirt damp and sticking to your back. Your chest rose and fell in quick, ragged breaths as you stared into the abyss of your room, trying to convince yourself that you were here, not there.

But the nightmare had been too real this time.

Gunfire. Smoke. The weight of blood-soaked earth beneath your knees.

It had been all around you, swallowing you whole, dragging you back into the worst moments of your past. The smell of burning flesh still clung to your senses, making your stomach churn. You swore you could feel the phantom sting of a bullet grazing your ribs, the echo of a comrade’s last breath filling your ears.

Your throat locked up, and a choked sob broke free before you could swallow it down.

That was all it took.

Price stirred first. He was always the first to wake up, his instincts sharper than the rest of them. There was a heavy exhale, the rustling of fabric as he shifted beside you, and then the familiar weight of his hand on your arm.

"Love? You alright?"

You couldn’t answer. Your breathing was still erratic, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts as you clenched the sheets in tight fists. You knew where you were, knew you were safe, but your body wasn’t listening.

Soap was next. You felt him move before you heard his voice, his warmth pressing closer as he propped himself up on one elbow. His voice was softer than usual, still tinged with sleep, but laced with worry.

"Another nightmare?"

You barely managed a nod, body trembling as you struggled to regain control of your breathing.

A large, warm hand slid over yours, squeezing gently. Gaz. He didn’t say anything right away, just offered the grounding pressure you needed. His touch was solid, real—something to tether you to the present.

Ghost moved last, but when he did, it was with quiet purpose. You barely heard him shift until his voice rumbled through the dark, thick with sleep but firm in its concern.

"Breathe, sweetheart. Slow it down."

You sucked in a shaky inhale but couldn’t seem to hold onto it. Your heart was still racing, your body still trapped in the ghost of a past that wouldn’t let you go.

A second squeeze from Gaz. A reassuring rub along your back from Price. The weight of Soap pressing his forehead to yours, his presence humming with quiet strength.

"You’re safe," Soap murmured. "It’s just us, bonnie. We got you."

The weight of their presence surrounded you, warm and steady. Slowly—painfully slow—your breathing began to even out.

"Can you tell us what it was about?" Gaz asked gently.

You hesitated.

How could you put it into words? How could you tell them that the nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare—that it was real, that it had happened? That it wasn’t just your subconscious playing tricks on you but a memory etched so deep into your bones that you doubted it would ever fade?

Your silence stretched, but Ghost didn’t push. Instead, he shifted closer, his arm wrapping fully around your waist and pulling you against his solid chest. His warmth seeped into you, pressing down the last remnants of the nightmare like an anchor.

"You don’t have to talk about it," he murmured. "Just let us hold you."

Your fingers clenched the fabric of Soap’s shirt, body still trembling as you finally let yourself sink into them.

Price was still rubbing slow, steady circles against your back. "You're not alone, love," he said quietly. "We’re right here. Always."

You squeezed your eyes shut as Soap’s hand found your jaw, tilting your face slightly toward him. His forehead pressed against yours again, a silent comfort, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

"You’re ours, bonnie. Nothing’s gonna get you, not while we’re here."

Gaz’s fingers brushed through your hair, slow and deliberate. "You should get some rest," he murmured, voice gentle. "We’ll stay awake if you need us to."

You shook your head. You didn’t want them to watch you, to stay awake just because your mind refused to cooperate. "You don’t have to—"

Ghost cut you off with a quiet, firm whisper. "We will."

It wasn’t up for debate.

You sighed, exhaustion tugging at your limbs now that the initial adrenaline had faded. You still felt raw, frayed at the edges, but the worst of the panic had passed.

Soap let out a soft chuckle, but there was no teasing in his tone. "Gotta be honest, love, you’re not getting rid of us that easy."

Price hummed in agreement. "You need rest. You’re safe here. Just close your eyes."

They weren’t leaving.

You should’ve known better than to think they would.

As if sensing the last of your resistance, they all settled closer. Ghost’s arm remained firm around your waist, anchoring you. Soap nuzzled against your temple, his warmth a silent reassurance. Gaz’s hand traced absent patterns along your arm, soothing, steady. And Price’s slow, methodical rubs against your back never wavered.

Soap murmured something in Gaelic—something quiet and familiar. You barely understood it, but it was enough to lull you, the cadence of his voice washing over you like a lullaby.

The last thing you felt before slipping into sleep was the weight of Price pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead, his voice a low whisper in the dark.

"Sleep, love. We’ve got you."

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

*Simon following up behind y/n* Y/n: So...me and Simon are dating *Simon nodding* Price: ha! We already knew Soap: like why were you even hiding it from us this long Y/n and Simon: *confused* Y/n:We only started dating today Price: Soap: Then what the fuck was happening for the last three years ?! Simon: :)

Can I make a platonic request of Charlie with a human reader that was sent to hell without dying motivating and encouraging her to keep following her dreams no matter what anyone says or what happens when she is down?

ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔩’𝔰 ℌ𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫

A/N: You absolutely can!! I love my girl Charlie—she reminds me of Emma from TPN! Anyways, I hope you don’t mind me putting in a dream that the reader has, I wasn’t sure what to do since you hadn’t specified (but it’s trouble, don’t worry!)

Word Count: 1.1k

TW: None really, unless you count being in Hell?

Reader is gender neutral!

The world around you was a kaleidoscope of crimson and shadow, an eerie dance of flame and darkness. You never imagined you’d end up here—Hell—without so much as dying. There was no dramatic accident, no tragic ending to your life. One moment, you were walking home, and the next, the ground beneath you gave way to this bizarre, otherworldly landscape. Confusion quickly gave way to fear, and fear to despair. You felt lost, utterly and completely. Until she showed up.

♡⋅˚₊‧ ୨☀️୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅♡

Charlie Morningstar was unlike anyone you had ever met, in any realm of existence. Her cheerful demeanor stood in stark contrast to the grim surroundings, as if she refused to let Hell itself dim her light. Her golden hair practically glowed, and her warm smile carried a sense of hope that felt out of place—yet so welcome—in this desolate place. She found you huddled near a crumbling wall, knees pulled to your chest, staring into the void. Instead of walking past like so many others, she sat beside you, her presence both comforting and curious.

“Hi there,” she said, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. “Rough day?”

You laughed bitterly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “You could say that. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

Charlie tilted her head, a flicker of concern crossing her features. “Not supposed to be in Hell? That’s... unusual.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “One second, I’m walking home from work. The next, I’m here. I don’t even know why.”

“Well,” she said, her smile returning, “we’ll figure it out. But for now, how about we get you somewhere safe?”

You hesitated. You didn’t know her, didn’t know if you could trust her. But something about her felt genuine, like she truly cared. Reluctantly, you nodded, and she helped you to your feet. From that moment on, your life—or whatever this existence was—began to change.

Charlie brought you to the Hazbin Hotel, her grand but somewhat shabby project to rehabilitate sinners and give them a chance at redemption. You weren’t a sinner, but you still felt out of place. The hotel was a strange haven in this chaotic realm, filled with all manner of colorful and bizarre characters. At first, you kept to yourself, unsure of your place in this odd community. But Charlie wouldn’t let you retreat into your shell.

She had a way of drawing you out, her enthusiasm infectious. She’d invite you to join her in decorating the lobby, brainstorming ideas for the hotel, or simply talking over cups of tea. She wanted to know everything about you—your dreams, your passions, your fears. It was disarming, how much she cared.

♡⋅˚₊‧ ୨☀️୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅♡

One evening, as the two of you sat on the hotel’s rooftop, looking out over the sprawling chaos of Hell, you finally opened up. “I used to have dreams,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big ones. I wanted to be an artist, to create something that would inspire people. But... it felt like the world was against me. No one believed in me, and eventually, I stopped believing in myself.”

Charlie’s expression softened, her crimson eyes filled with understanding. “That sounds really hard. But you know what? Dreams don’t die just because others can’t see them. They’re still inside you, waiting for you to pick them back up.”

You looked at her, skeptical. “Easy for you to say. You’re a princess. You’ve probably never had people tell you you’re not good enough.”

She laughed, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “Oh, you’d be surprised. My whole life, people have doubted me. They think my dream of rehabilitating sinners is ridiculous, that it’ll never work. But I keep going because I believe it’s worth it. And I believe you’re worth it too.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you. For so long, you’d let the voices of doubt drown out your own. But here was Charlie, in the literal depths of Hell, refusing to give up on her vision. If she could keep fighting for her dreams, maybe you could too.

From that night on, Charlie became your biggest cheerleader. She encouraged you to pick up a pencil again, to let your creativity flow. At first, it was just doodles, small sketches on scraps of paper. But as the days turned into weeks, you began to find your rhythm again. The hotel’s walls soon became adorned with your art, transforming the space into a gallery of hope and beauty. The other residents took notice, and for the first time in a long time, you felt seen.

Whenever doubt crept back in, Charlie was there to chase it away. “Your art is incredible,” she’d say, her enthusiasm unwavering. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. And don’t stop just because it’s hard. The best things in life usually are.”

Her belief in you became a lifeline, pulling you out of the darkness you’d been drowning in. Slowly but surely, you began to believe in yourself again. And in turn, you found ways to support Charlie in her mission. You designed posters and banners for the hotel, turning it into a place that truly felt welcoming. Together, you created something that stood as a beacon of hope in a realm defined by despair.

♡⋅˚₊‧ ୨☀️୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅♡

One day, as you worked on a mural in the lobby, Charlie approached you, her usual cheerful energy tempered by something more serious. “You know,” she began, “you’re not just helping me with the hotel. You’re inspiring everyone here. Your art, your determination—it’s contagious. You’re making a difference.”

Her words brought tears to your eyes. For so long, you’d felt like your dreams didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter. But here, in the unlikeliest of places, you’d found purpose and belonging. And it was all thanks to Charlie.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice trembling. “For everything. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with warmth. “You’d be right where you are now. Because the strength you needed was always inside you. I just helped you see it.”

In that moment, you realized just how much Charlie had given you. Not just a place to stay, but a reason to keep going. A reminder that even in the darkest of places, there’s still light to be found. And as you looked at her, you made a silent vow to never let that light go out—not in her, and not in yourself.

Hell might have been the last place you expected to find yourself, but it turned out to be the first place where you truly found yourself. And with Charlie by your side, you knew you could face anything. Together, you were unstoppable—two dreamers refusing to let the world, or Hell itself, stand in their way.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢! 🍎

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠

WAIT WAIT WAIT but what if in the angst duchess au, she reaches her breaking point but instead of crying she gets angry, really angry? she did nothing but be kind (JUSTICE FOR DUCHESS)

What would happen if she threatened to reveal their secret if they didn't at least start treating her with respect? Would they accept or threaten her back? (i can see simon protect his man and and their relationship) I NEED ANSWER

(really really love your blog, even if i'm still busy with university i Always find time to read It <3 <3 <3)

I’m more focused on the idea of her threatening them and them threatening her back- that must cause sooo much tension omg?? Especially if you adapt a very frosty, very cold attitude towards everyone in the duchy after that disastrous day of threats. There’s an awful pressure surrounding everyone, and even the staff take to silently doing their jobs to not risk anyone’s ire- especially after you fire several maids who had been whispering about you, and John didn’t put up a fuss and neither did Kyle.

They become used to feeling your glares, your chilling silence, the downright crude way you tell them how much you hate them, the constant threats- they become used to it. Or at least, they think they are becoming used to it until they notice you one day, a smile on your face while reading a letter that came with a big bouquet of red roses.

An admirer.

𝐵𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑛

A/N: I’m so full of Angst ideas and I’m not sure why. I promise to write more fluffier, cheesy stuff later on down the road, but for now, take this anguish my lovelies. (I might make a part two of this, only because I liked it so much.)

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: Cussing, Arguments, Brian and Tim are toxic, grief.

Reader is a female!

The apartment door slammed shut with a resounding crack, the force reverberating through the small space. You flinched, startled, and looked up from where you sat curled on the couch. Tim and Brian were back, their faces hard and unreadable, though the tension between them filled the room like smoke.

“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!” you demanded, standing up as your voice quavered between anger and worry. Your heart pounded. They had been gone for hours with no word, leaving you to stew in an anxious cocktail of fear and frustration.

Tim tossed his jacket onto the back of the chair, not even sparing you a glance. “Out,” he muttered, the single word cutting through the air like a knife.

“Out? That’s all you’ve got to say?” You stepped closer, your fists clenched at your sides. “I was worried sick! You can’t just disappear for hours and not—”

“Are you even listening to me?” The words tumbled out, louder than you intended. The silence that followed was suffocating.

Brian leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were sharp, like he was sizing you up, ready to dismantle you piece by piece. “What more do you really want?” he sneered, his tone cold. “We’re back. Isn’t that enough?”

“Enough?” Your voice cracked. “You left me here, with no explanation, no text, nothing! Do you know what that feels like?”

Brian’s laugh was bitter, a sound devoid of warmth. “You’re so pathetic. Always clinging, always demanding.”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting harder than they should have. “What is wrong with you guys? I stayed up all night worrying about you. I thought you might’ve been hurt—or worse!” you snapped, though your voice wavered under the weight of Tim’s sharp glare.

Tim finally turned to you, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and something sharper. “Can you just fuck off already?” he said, his words devoid of emotion.

The ground felt like it was slipping beneath you. You stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said, eyes starting to form small beads, glistening when the kitchen light reflected off them.

Brian’s smirk widened as he tilted his head, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, is the poor little thing going to cry? Can’t handle a bit of truth, huh?”

You stood there, rooted in place, as the words rained down on you like blows you couldn’t dodge. Your chest tightened, each syllable slicing deeper, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The walls seemed to close in around you, the air growing heavier with every passing moment.

Tim remained unmoved, his gaze sharpening.

Brian pushed himself off the counter, his movements slow and deliberate as he walked past you, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt intentional. “Ever since we first met, you’ve been nothing but a burden,” he muttered, his voice low but clear enough to pierce through the din of your spiraling thoughts.

Something in you cracked. The fragile hope you’d held onto, that this was just a bad day and things would work themselves out, shattered completely. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of your resolve. “Leave, then. Both of you. I don’t need this.”

For the first time, neither of them had a quick retort. They exchanged a glance—silent, unreadable—and without another word, Tim grabbed his jacket. Brian didn’t even bother to look back as they walked out the door.

The silence they left behind was deafening.

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The door closed with a soft click this time, and the sound made your stomach twist. The fight was over, but it didn’t feel like a victory. The quiet that followed wasn’t peace—it was suffocating. You stood frozen in the center of the room, your arms hanging limply at your sides, heart hammering in your chest.  

You’d told them to leave. And they had.  

Tears pricked your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of everything began to settle. Their words echoed in your mind, each one sharper than the last.  

“You’re so pathetic.”

“Can you just fuck off already?” 

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

Your knees buckled, and you sank onto the couch, trembling. You hugged yourself, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the bruises their words had left behind. It wasn’t the first time arguments like this had erupted between you three. The stress of working with the Operator, the endless, mind-numbing missions, and the constant danger had frayed everyone’s nerves. But tonight had been different.  

Tonight, they hadn’t just been angry—they’d been cruel.  

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, your breath hitching as the tears came faster. “Why did it have to be like this?” you whispered to no one.  

For a moment, you let yourself remember the good days—the laughter, the late nights spent curled up together, the small moments of tenderness that had made all the chaos bearable. You’d thought that those moments meant something, that they could carry you all through the worst of it.  

But maybe you were wrong.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second dragging on longer than the last. The apartment felt too big, too empty without their presence, even if that presence had been brimming with anger. You couldn’t stop replaying the argument in your head, trying to pinpoint the moment where everything had spiraled out of control.  

Had you pushed too hard? Or had they finally shown you what they truly thought of you?  

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping you out of your thoughts. You reached for it with shaking hands, half-hoping it was one of them. Maybe Tim or Brian would apologize, or at least explain what had set them off so badly.  

But it wasn’t them. It was just a useless notification—a weather alert. You threw the phone back onto the table, the small hope you’d allowed yourself fizzling out as quickly as it had come.  

A cold wave of exhaustion swept over you. You pulled a blanket over your shoulders, curling into yourself as the tears continued to fall.  

  ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Hours passed, though you couldn’t tell how many. You didn’t sleep—how could you, with your mind racing and your chest aching like this? You wanted to hate them, wanted to banish their faces from your thoughts, but it was impossible.  

The door opened again sometime near dawn. The sound jolted you upright, your breath catching in your throat. For a split second, you thought maybe they’d come back to make things right.  

Tim stood in the doorway, looking drained and disheveled. Brian was behind him, his face an unreadable mask. Neither of them spoke at first.  

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying.  

Tim looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “We forgot some stuff,” he muttered. “It’s not like we came back for you.”  

The sharpness of his words was dulled by his tone—it wasn’t cruel, just... hollow.  

Brian crossed the room without a word, grabbing a duffel bag from the corner and stuffing a few things into it. He didn’t even glance in your direction.  

The sight of them, so detached and indifferent, made something inside you snap. “That’s it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “You’re just going to walk in here, grab your shit, and leave? After everything?”  

Tim turned to face you, his expression darkening. “What do you want me to say?” he snapped. “That we’re sorry? That everything’s fine now? It’s not.”  

“I don’t want your empty apologies,” you shot back. “I wanted you to care. I wanted you to try.”  

Brian finally spoke, his voice cold and sharp. “We’ve been trying. You think this is easy? You think we can just continue acting like everything’s fine when it’s not?”

“Do you even hear yourselves?” you said, your voice rising. “You’re blaming me for this—like I’m the one who’s broken us!”  

Tim’s jaw tightened. “Maybe you should look in the mirror, then.”  

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.  

You swallowed hard, blinking back the fresh tears that threatened to spill over. “If this is how little you think of me, then why did you stay for so long?”  

Neither of them answered.  

Brian slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, his expression unchanging. “We couldn’t handle faking it anymore,” he said.  

You stared at them, your chest heaving as anger and despair warred within you. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I saw in you both to be together this long.” The words you spoke came out like venom, even shocking you.

Tim hesitated for a moment, but Brian didn’t look back as he opened the door and stepped out. Tim followed, the door closing behind them with a finality that left you breathless.  

And then, once again, you were alone.  

  ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The hours that followed their departure stretched endlessly, every second heavier than the last. The apartment felt like a hollow shell—an echo chamber of everything they had said and everything you hadn’t had the chance to say. Sleep evaded you; every time you closed your eyes, their voices lingered, cruel and sharp like glass shards digging into your chest.  

When the sun finally rose, its weak light spilled through the curtains, and you sat up, exhausted but restless. Their things were gone now, but the spaces they had filled—the chair Tim always slouched in, the spot on the kitchen counter Brian leaned against when he teased you—those remained, taunting you.  

By noon, you had reached your breaking point. You had to confront them—not to bring them back, but to purge the poison they’d left in your veins. You grabbed your phone and sent a message to Tim.  

We need to talk. Face-to-face. Please.

You didn’t expect him to reply. You didn’t expect him to come, either. But an hour later, there was a knock at the door.  

When you opened it, Tim stood there, his expression guarded. He had changed out of his wrinkled clothes from the night before but still looked just as tired.  

“Where’s Brian?” you asked flatly.  

“Not here,” he said, stepping inside. “He didn’t want to come.”  

“Of course he didn’t,” you muttered under your breath.  

Tim frowned, crossing his arms. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”  

The sight of him standing there, so detached, made your blood boil. “You promised me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You both did. You promised we’d stick together, no matter how hard things got.”  

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, promises don’t mean much when everything’s falling apart.”  

“You think I don’t know that?” you snapped. “I gave you everything I had. Everything! Look where that got me.”  

He flinched, just barely, but it was enough to spur you on. “Every time I look at you,” you said, your voice breaking, “all I see are the faces of the people who once told me they loved me, that I was the only bright spark in their dark world. And now you’re just like them—another person who tore me apart and left me here to bleed.”  

“Stop,” Tim said quietly, but you weren’t done.  

“You changed me, Tim. You and Brian both. You broke me down until there was nothing left. And the worst part? Neither of you will ever find someone who loves a soul as filthy as yours.”  

“That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.  

The silence that followed was deafening. Tim looked away, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.  

You let out a shaky breath, your anger giving way to exhaustion. “Was any of it real? Did it ever really mean something to either of you?” you whispered, looking at Tim with some form of hope in your eyes.  

Tim’s head snapped back toward you, his expression shifting. “Of course it meant something!” he said, his voice cracking. “You think I didn’t care? You think none of it mattered to me?”  

“Did it?” you asked, your voice flat. “Because if it did, why did you let it end like this? Why didn’t you fight for us?”  

He stared at you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out.  

Finally, he shook his head and turned toward the door. “I can’t do this,” he muttered.  

“Of course you can’t,” you said bitterly. “Running away is the only thing you’ve ever been good at.”  

He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t look back. And then, just like that, he was gone.  

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The next few days passed in a blur. You didn’t hear from either of them, and part of you was grateful for the silence. But the pain lingered, festering like an open wound. You replayed the argument with Tim over and over in your mind, dissecting every word, every glance, every moment where things could have gone differently.  

You weren’t sure if you wanted to fix things anymore. Maybe there was nothing left to fix.  

But one thing was certain—you wouldn’t let them tear you apart again.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠! 🖤

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠

𝐺𝐼𝐹 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑘𝑟𝑣𝑝𝑖𝑘𝑎