merxcywritesthings

Latest Posts by merxcywritesthings

Johnny who became ridiculously jealous of the giant seal plushie that took most of his space on the bed as you cuddled with it to sleep.

So he bought a seal onesie for himself, because of course the most logical solution to compete with the plushie, is to be the plushie

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

Ghost: Luv, hurry up, we're gonna be late Y/N, coming out of the dressing room: How do I look? Ghost: Ghost, unbuttoning his shirt: Oh we're definitely going to be late

Dad! Simon

You find him in the bedroom, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, legs stretched out, a shoebox balanced on his thigh. And, scattered around him—like fallen leaves—are photographs.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Planning a scrapbook?”

Simon doesn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. Just recognition.

"He’s gotten so big now," he mutters, lifting a picture between his fingers. He turns it toward you—your son, a newborn, swaddled tight, impossibly small in his arms. "Look at this—head barely bigger than my palm."

You step inside, lowering yourself beside him. The photos form a mosaic across the carpet—a timeline of a life measured in firsts.

First ultrasound. First bath. First wobbly steps.

His first birthday, cake frosting, smeared across chubby cheeks, fingers reaching for Simon’s.

His first time on Simon’s shoulders, tiny hands gripping his head, giggling like he’d never known a world without laughter.

You pick up a more recent one—your son at five, sitting on Simon’s lap, eyes bright, smile wide. He looks just like him. Same sharp gaze, same shape of the mouth. It’s almost funny how undeniable it is.

Simon exhales, slow and steady, his thumb tracing over the glossy surface.

"Simon ...do you want me to - "

His jaw tightens, just for a second, before he lets out a quiet huff. “No, it’s fine. Thinkin’ of puttin’ some in an album.”

You don’t catch him on the lie.

Because what you don’t know—what you won’t know for a long time—is that there will be no album.

The photos will go back into the box. Just like they always do.

And later that night, after the house has settled into quiet, after you’ve both gone to bed, he’ll slip the box under his side of the nightstand—within reach, always.

And when it’s time—when the bags are packed, when his boots are laced, when the house is still dark with sleep—he’ll take the smallest, most recent one.

-- where your son is missing a front tooth, grinning wide, arms thrown around your neck like he never wants to let go.

He’ll fold it carefully, tuck it into the pocket of his gear.

Because the thought of not having it, of not carrying that proof of life with him, is unbearable.

So he keeps them.

And sometimes, when he’s halfway across the world, when the silence stretches too long and the weight in his chest feels too heavy to bear, he’ll take that photo out.

Run his thumb over the edges.

Remind himself of what’s waiting for him at home.

Just for a little while.

Just to hold on.

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.

(even more designationless!reader…)

The idea had clung to you like a ghost, silent and persistent. A whisper of possibility, a gnawing what if that refused to let go, lurking in the quiet spaces between your thoughts.

It started as an offhanded remark- just a passing suggestion from an Omega medic flipping through your file, his frown deepening at the blank space where a designation should be. He’d leaned in closer, like he was sharing a deep secret even though you’d heard of it before.

“You know, there’s a new procedure. A way to synthesize a scent, balance your hormones. Might help you fit in better.”

At the time, you’d laughed it off, a dry, hollow sound. You were fine. You had learned to live without instincts, without scent cues. You had a pack now- wasn’t that such a wonderful thought? You, of all people, with a pack- and they never made you feel lesser for it.

But still…

Still, you would never stop noticing the way strangers hesitated when they got too close, noses twitching as they tried to find something that wasn’t there. The way some looked at you like you were an anomaly, a hollow space where something vital should be.

The pack never made you feel wrong. But the rest of the world did before and after them.

So, you started actually looking into it. Quietly; and what you found was terrifying.

The procedure wasn’t just some simple injection or pill, wasn’t like the time you got yourself a pheromone perfume. It was invasive- gene therapy, hormone treatments, scent gland augmentation. Synthetic pheromones would be forced into your system, rewriting the very foundation of your body’s chemistry. The risks of rejection and infections were high. The list of potential side effects was even higher- neurological damage, sensory overload, organ stress. Death.

It wasn’t just expensive. It wasn’t just painful. It was dangerous.

And yet, the thought had taken a root far too deep to be simply pulled out.

What would it be like to walk into a room and be known? To have a scent that soothed your pack, something that would mark them the way they marked you with touches and borrowed clothes and lingering words? The pheromone perfume had been temporary, but this- it could be permanent. A cure.

It took weeks before you built up the courage to bring it up to your pack; weeks of staring at catalogues and brochures, google searches all on the costs, the risks, the very, very few who had tried it.

Sitting in the nest one evening, curled between them, you hesitated before you gathered enough courage and spoke. “I found a way to get a scent.”

The reaction was immediate, though you weren’t surprised. They’ve likely heard of the procedure before.

Johnny turned his head sharply from where he had been sprawled beside you, brow furrowing. Kyle, who had been playing absently with your fingers, froze. John, seated at the edge of the nest with a book in his lap, went still. And Simon- Simon growled. A low, rumbling thing that vibrated through your ribs, curling up inside your chest like a warning.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Your throat went dry. “You know about that procedure, right?” your words were careful, hesitant. “It’s… expensive. But it can create a scent for me. A real one.”

Silence. Then-

“No.”

John’s voice was sharp, absolute. Not angry, not yet. But firm in a way that brooked no argument. A command all on its own.

Your stomach twisted, and a deep frown etched itself onto your face. “I just thought-”

“No,” Simon repeated, harsher this time, sitting up straight. His eyes burned into yours, dark and furious. “Who the fuck put that idea in your head?”

You faltered, the hesitant hope in your chest slowly fanning out. “It’s not- I wasn’t—”

“You dinnae need fixing, hen.”

“It’s not about fixing,” you argued, pulse quickening. Why weren’t they giving you a chance to explain? “It’s about- I don’t know, being normal? Being able to-”

“You are normal,” Kyle interrupted, his voice thick, pain threaded around each word. “Christ, love, what made you think you weren’t?”

Frustration bubbled up, clogging your thoughts. “You don’t get it,” you snapped, and the words poured out, raw and aching. “None of you do. You’ve never had to live without it. Never had to wonder if you belonged because you don’t have the one thing that ties you to everyone else!”

John’s exhale was sharp, scrubbing a hand over his face and beard. He looked at you- really looked at you, and his face tensed even further. “And you think putting yourself through hell to force a scent into your system is the answer?”

You hesitated, exposed under their scrutiny, laid bare even in spite of the layers you were wearing.

“You’d risk your life for this?”

“People go through hormone therapy all the time-”

“Not like this,” Kyle shook his head, immediately cutting that line of thought off. “This isn’t just hormone theraph. This is gene-altering shit. You read the side effects, love? The risks?”

You had. And now, under their gazes, the weight of it pressed heavy on your chest.

Ghost shifted closer, holding your arm, face tight. “You’re not doing this.”

“You can’t just tell me what I can and can’t do with my own body!”

Price’s jaw tightened, eyes dark with something unreadable, something heavy. When he finally spoke, it was rough, edged with the kind of steel that only came from deep, unwavering conviction.

“You’re right.”

For a second, your breath caught, because you hadn’t expected him to say that. Did you-?

“We can’t tell you what to do with your body,” he continued, low but firm. “But we can stop you from hurting yourself. I will not allow you to go through that damn procedure.”

The words hit like a fist to the gut.

Simon exhaled sharply, tilting his head like he couldn’t believe you had even considered it. “You’d put yourself through that- all that danger, all that risk- just to what? Smell a little different?”

You swallowed, and then, after a heavy moment, nodded.

Kyle leaned in, wrapping himself around you, protective. “You,” he hissed. “You think some synthetic, lab-made scent could ever be worth you getting hurt?”

Your throat felt tight, and you looked away, only for Johnny to let out a rough, disbelieving laugh. “Jesus, lass. You think we’d ever want some artificial shite over you?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. “I just thought… maybe it would make things easier.” You admitted eventually, voice small and weak, avoiding their eyes. You’d thought… it might even make your family care.

Gaz inhaled sharply, like your words had hurt. “Easier for who?”

The question left you hollow, because you knew the answer.

Not for them.

Never for them.

John sighed, rubbing his temples before reaching out, cupping your cheek with one calloused hand and forcing you to look at him. “Love,” he murmured, and his voice had softened now, rough edges worn down to something gentler, something aching. “We don’t need you to smell like us to know you’re ours. We don’t need a scent to claim you, or to carry your scent.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, touch warm. “You’re already part of this pack.”

The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, curling around your ribs, something painful and good all at once.

For so long, you had felt other. Like something was missing. But here, surrounded by them, their warmth pressing into you, their hands grounding you-

You could almost convince yourself you were whole.

Simon let out a slow breath and reached for you, pulling you into his lap with a kind of desperate, hungry care, his arms curling around you like he could somehow shield you from your own thoughts. Johnny pressed against your side, warm and solid, his grip firm where he held onto your wrist. Kyle leaned in, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and Price wrapped an arm around all of you, anchoring you to them.

And you let yourself believe them.

Omegaverse masterlist

Please send more requests?

Hi, lovelies! 💖

My department is going on a work trip next month, so I won’t be able to write during that time. I usually receive about one request per day, but lately, it’s been slow—none in the past two days. To keep the queue flowing and possibly start posting twice a day before the trip, I’d love it if you could send in more requests! 💖

Feel free to send multiple requests! If I don’t get enough, I’ll fill it with my own ideas, but I’d rather prioritize your requests! Right now, I only have 7 requests queued, which isn’t enough to maintain a steady pace.

I’ll be back on Sunday morning to answer any questions! Thank you so much for your help. 🥰

As a reminder, here’s my fandom list:

Anime

Attack on Titan (Shingeki no Kyojin)

My Hero Academia (Boku no Hero Academia)

Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Tokyo Revengers

Naruto / Boruto

One Piece

Haikyuu!!

Chainsaw Man

Spy x Family

Bleach

TV

Supernatural

The Witcher

Stranger Things

The Mandalorian

Sherlock (BBC)

Percy Jackson & the Olympians

BBC Merlin

Doctor Who

Star Trek

Good Omens

Bridgerton

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon

The Boys

ATLA/Avatar The Last Airbender

Arcane

Criminal Minds

Movies

Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts

Twilight

The Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU)

The Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit

Star Wars

Video games

The Legend of Zelda

The Last of Us

Resident Evil

Call of Duty

Baldur's Gate

Genshin Impact

Love and Deepspace

Books

Percy Jackson & the Olympians

The Witcher

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Throne of Glass

The Cruel Prince (The Folk of the Air)

Thanks so much for your support—you’re all amazing! 💕

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.

*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: :)

OMGMGMGMGMGM THE @beloveds-embrace NOTICED ME, MY HEART IS SO FULL!!! 😫❤️

Hi love! I was wondering how does the reader in your Roomates AU fall in love with each of the boys? Does the reader see something in them or the boys do something that makes the reader just stop and internally panic (in love ofc <3).

p.s. I love your writing, keep up the amazing work! ❤️

First of all, thank you so much!! 💕🫶🏻

In all honesty I am a huge sucker of that one trope where Reader has no idea she’s even fallen into a sort of relationship with them until one of her friends keeps giving her a weird, far too teasing smile when they drop by to visit her.

“It’s like- they are your boyfriends! Multiple!”

And you brush them aside at first, not believing them but their words just keep repeating in your head until you really think about it and realize: yes… they do act like your boyfriends, don’t they?

(And you don’t seem to mind it all. Shocker.)

Thinking about designationless!reader au, how the boys would spend HOURS searching for candles that properly represented their scents so reader would feel included in the nest

Anyway just wanted to say I LOVE your writing and you've got me inspired to write my own little designationless!reader au (which if I ever do post, I will tag you for credits ❤️❤️), its just has so many possibilities

Every time I see you post, blog, wtver this website wants to call it, my day gets a little brighter :)

-👽

omg thank you so so so much anon?? you are so very sweet!! i am very happy to know you like my stuff and felt inspired by it!! i hope you enjoy this, your idea was wonderful! <33 omegaverse masterlist

The idea had started innocently enough.

Gaz had mentioned it one night while they were snuggled in the nest, you nestled warm and comfy between them all. You’d fallen asleep on Price’s chest, Soap’s arm thrown over your waist, Ghost’s steady breathing brushing your temple, and Gaz quietly watching from the edge.

“She can’t smell us,” Gaz had murmured, musing and cutting through the peaceful silence. “But… what if she could? Just a little? For the nest.”

It was a seed of an idea that quickly took root in all of them.

The next day, they found themselves walking through shops they’d normally never step foot in- boutiques, candle stores, even a few farmers’ markets. Price looked utterly out of place amongst rows of colorful jars, his gruff demeanor clashing with the delicate scents wafting around him. Soap, on the other hand, took to it with a determination that made the staff wary as he sniffed candle after candle, holding them up to Gaz and Ghost for confirmation.

“This one’s close, isn’t it?” he asked, holding up a jar labeled Amber Woods. He shoved it under Ghost’s nose, earning an irritated growl.

“Too sweet,” Ghost muttered then, shaking his head. “Try again.”

Gaz was off in another aisle, holding up a candle labeled Vanilla Bourbon and frowning. “This isn’t right either. It’s too… fake.” He sighed, setting it down with a heavy thunk. “How’s it this hard to find something that fits?”

Price stood in the corner, his brow furrowed as he examined the names on the candles. He knew and had been told many times his cedarwood scent was sharp and earthy, grounding in a way that none of these synthetic imitations could capture. He picked one up- Smoked Cedar- and took a deep inhale.

“Not bad." He said after a moment, setting it aside in their “maybe” pile.

They spent hours combing through the store, moving from candle jars to wax melts to essential oil blends. They argued with each other quietly, then with the amused store employees, their tones growing increasingly frustrated with each other as they tried to find scents that truly represented themselves.

“It’s just a candle, sirs,” One employee, clearly annoyed with them, chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Does it really matter this much?”

Ghost’s dark eyes snapped to him, his voice low and dangerous, not helped by the balaclava and cap he wore. “It’s not just a candle. It’s for someone.”

That shut the employee up quickly.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity and much sniffing, they settled on a few options.

When they brought the candles back to the nest (oh, how they loved that you were beginning to spend more and more of your free time there), you blinked up at them, confused by their triumphant expressions and the little bag Price held in his hand. They looked a little too proud of themselves.

“What’s all this?” You asked, sitting up from your spot. I

“Something for you.” Price said simply, his voice soft as he placed candles on the table.

Soap grinned, almost vibrating with excitement and pride as he gestured for you to come closer. “Go on, lass. Smell ‘em.”

You leaned forward, hesitantly uncapping the first candle. The cedarwood hit you first, earthy and grounding, and your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed in delight. You glanced up at Price when you heard a deep rumble you've come to understand as prideful.

“This is.... you, isn't it?” you realized, earning a small nod from him.

You went through each one, inhaling the soft citrus of Soap’s, the richness of Ghost’s smoky scent, the soothing vanilla of Gaz’s. By the time you finished, you stared at them with something akin to more awe than the sun has for its orbiting planets.

“You did this... for me?”

“Of course,” Gaz pressed a kiss to your temple. “Wanted you to feel like you’re part of us. Always.”

You didn’t know what to say, but as they lit the candles and pulled you back into the nest, you felt surrounded by them in a way you never had before.

And for the first time, you felt as if you could... be like them. For once, you understood what their scents were like- a part of their world for just a moment.

You will be keeping those candles.

The sheer, unadulterated joy i get whenever i check the poly 141 tag and there is new stuff to read

tatted! simon motorcycle shenanigans

TATTED UP! Simon Riley who lets you turn him into a colouring book. He doesn’t care how you colour his tattoos, he just wants to see the scrunched up look of concentration on your cute face.

“What colour do you want?” You murmur as you glance at your numerous eyeshadow palettes. Simon wants to say black or grey but he sees the way you eye the pink palette for a moment too long.

“… Pink.” He finally answers, his gaze focused solely on your bright smile.

You find joy in colouring his arm with various shades of pink and purple as he watches. “Look, so cute.” You murmur, eliciting a low laugh from Simon.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbles, “You wanna colour the rest in?”

BONUS

“Aye, LT, you got your tattoo redone or what?” Jonny can barely hold back his laughter as he looks at Simon’s arm. The previously edgy tattoos were now adorned with feminine colours and glitter.

“No. Just making the misses happy.” Simon doesn’t really care for his teammates’ reactions because the memory of your smile is enough to block out Jonny’s cackles.

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

Summary: In the command center, you navigate chaos as the task force tackles a high-stakes mission to stop Makarov’s sinister plan. With tension thick and comms crackling with urgency, everything spirals when a trap is sprung. As you desperately try to piece together what’s happening, silence falls—fractured by a single, devastating revelation. Now, the weight of loss presses in, and a heartfelt letter reveals truths you never dared to hope for. In the aftermath of heroism and heartbreak, you’re left to grapple with a question: how do you move forward when your heart is still on the battlefield?

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Female Reader

The hum of the command center buzzed in your ears as you hunched over your console, fingers flying across the keyboard. The task force was out in the field, and as always, you stayed behind, monitoring feeds, guiding them through the chaos. You weren’t a soldier, not like them. Your battlefield was the screens in front of you, and your weapon was information.

But your heart was out there, with him.

You’d been in love with Johnny MacTavish—Soap—since the day you first met him. His humor, his energy, the way he could light up even the darkest situations. Over the years, you’d become close. You weren’t sure if he knew how you felt, but you carried it quietly, content to be near him, to hear his voice over comms, to know he was safe.

Until now.

The team had been deployed after intercepting intel about Makarov’s latest scheme: a plot to take the London Underground hostage and destroy the tunnels with explosives. The weight of the mission pressed on you as you worked tirelessly to support them from afar.

The comms were chaotic. “We’ve got eyes on the first device,” Price barked, his voice steady despite the urgency.

“Copy that,” you replied, checking the schematics. “Disarm sequence is live. Watch for a second fail-safe—Makarov doesn’t make it easy.”

Through the comms, you could hear Soap’s familiar voice, calm but focused. “Aye, lass, we’ll handle it. Keep the coffee warm for me, yeah?”

Your lips twitched into a small smile despite the tension. “Just don’t blow yourself up, MacTavish.”

Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an hour as you listened to their progress. Then came the first sign something was wrong.

“Bloody hell, it’s a trap!” Gaz’s voice was sharp, panic lacing his words.

“What’s going on?” you asked, leaning closer to the console. Static crackled in response, and your stomach twisted.

“We’ve got company,” Price growled. “Makarov’s here. He—”

The line cut out momentarily, and when it returned, chaos erupted. Gunfire, shouting, and the unmistakable sound of a struggle filled your headset.

“Soap, disarm the bomb!” Price ordered, his voice strained.

“I’m trying, Captain, but—” Soap’s words were interrupted by a sharp crack, followed by a muffled cry.

“Soap!” you shouted, but there was no response.

More shouting. Then a single gunshot rang out, deafening in the silence that followed.

“MacTavish!” Price’s voice was raw with anguish.

Your heart stopped. The comms descended into fragmented phrases, ringing with panic. You clutched the edge of your desk, trying to piece together what was happening, but no one was answering your calls.

Minutes dragged by like an eternity before Price’s voice came through again, quieter, broken. “We’re en route back to base.”

“Is everyone...?” You couldn’t finish the question.

No response.

You bolted from the command center, racing to the front of the base. The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes as you stood on the tarmac, watching the aircraft approach. Anxiety clawed at your chest as the ramp lowered and the team emerged.

Price. Gaz. Ghost.

Your eyes searched desperately for Soap, but he wasn’t there. Confused, you stepped forward. “Where’s Johnny?”

The silence that followed was louder than any answer. Price’s face was pale, his eyes hollow. Ghost looked away, his hands clenched into fists.

“Where is he?” you repeated, your voice trembling.

Price stopped in front of you, his expression crumbling. “He’s gone, (Y/N).”

“No,” you said, stepping back, your head shaking violently. “No, he’s not. He wouldn’t—he promised me!”

“He died protecting us,” Price said, his voice thick. “Makarov shot him. Threw me to the ground. Soap—he got back up. Fought to stop him. He saved my life.”

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground, the cold rain mixing with the tears streaming down your face. “No,” you whispered. “Not Johnny. He can’t be—”

“He was a hero,” Ghost said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

A hero. That word echoed in your mind, but it did nothing to dull the pain. Johnny was more than a hero. He was your light, your reason to smile even when the world seemed bleak.

In the hours that followed, you learned the details: how Makarov had ambushed them, how Johnny had been disarming the bomb when Makarov appeared. How he’d been shot protecting Price and fought to his last breath to stop the madman.

The weight of his sacrifice crushed you, and yet, through your grief, you couldn’t help but feel proud. He had always been brave, always selfless.

Later, sitting in the barracks, you clutched his dog tags in your hand, the cold metal biting into your palm. A letter rested on your lap, one Price had handed you with trembling hands. It was written in Johnny’s messy scrawl.

“ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ’ꜱ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ. ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ, ʟᴀꜱꜱ. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ… ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ. ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ.

ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, (ʏ/ɴ). ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ. ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ. ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ. ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ.”

The tears came hard and fast as you read his words, clutching the letter to your chest. Your hands shook as you held the letter close, his words cutting deeper than any wound. He’d been everything to you, and now he was gone, leaving only memories and a hollow ache in his place.

As you sat in the quiet, the rain still tapping against the window, you whispered, “You never know a good thing until it’s gone.”

You hadn’t just lost a good thing. You’d lost the best. And now, all you could do was carry his legacy and make sure the world never forgot the man who had been your everything.

The rain continued to fall as you sat there, clutching the letter. You didn’t know how to move forward, but you knew you had to try. For him. For Johnny.

A/N: crying because I love Johnny so much, I will never forgive Activision for killing him off. I hope this feeds you guys, I’ve been sick and haven’t been writing as much.. Remember to stay hydrated and eat plenty of food, you are loved. ❤️

Dividers by the lovely @𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠-𝑎

Okay, So I'm the only girl on my team at work. And I'm telling y’all, regardless of age or relationship status, guys absolutely get excited when you give them stuff. Even if they act like they don't. All I can do is imagine how this would work with the 141.

Like imagine you make Gaz a bracelet. It's nothing too crazy, just a single strand of green pony beads. It didn't even take a lot to make it. Just some small, homemade thing that you give to him while you've got some down time between tasks.

He absolutely lights up, smiling wide, eyes bright. He thanks you with a side hug and a kiss to your temple. It's more than what you were expecting, but you're not gonna complain.

You don't think much of it, and move on with your business, nearly forgetting about the bracelet… until Soap interrupts you at the gym, demanding to know why Gaz got one and not him.

You didn't think he wanted one, and you certainly didn't think he'd be so distraught over something so silly. So, you promise him a bracelet, and you deliver it to him the next day. A single strand blue bracelet.

Johnny's ecstatic, grinning like a kid on Christmas. He gives you a bear hug, and a messy kiss to your cheek, practically singing your praise as he leaves.

Price is next. But thankfully you don't give him a chance to ask. You had noticed the way his gaze lingers on the bracelets that Gaz and Soap have, the small frown he's got after talking to them.

You make him a yellow one, and drop it off on his desk with some paperwork. No need for all the fanfare or even the chance he might reject it. He doesn't. He does bring you your favorite drink, his way of saying thanks. And the yellow bracelet is on his wrist the whole time.

Ghost is last, only because you didn't think he'd want one. But ever since Price got his, Ghost has been waiting with baited breath for one. He's not going to outright ask, will even scoff if Soap or Gaz brag about it. But he wants one!

It's late, when he drops by your barrack, quiet when you open the door. It takes him a moment to gather the courage. But eventually, he holds his hand out, asking where his bracelet is.

When you admit you hadn't made him one, he's a little hurt. You're teammates. Why wouldn't he want one? But you invite him into your barrack, letting him sit with you as you make the bracelet. It's just black, his color of course, but he leaves, smiling under the mask.

Oh, and when you show up for the next briefing with your own bracelet, a repeating pattern of green, blue, yellow and black, no one comments on it. But it's hard to ignore the way they all smile at you, a soft look in their eyes.

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?”

I’m so obsessed with Tara’s writing I might just cry.

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

𝐶𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑦𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡:

𝐽𝑒𝑓𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐾𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟:

Nothing here yet..

𝐸𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝐽𝑎𝑐𝑘:

Nothing here yet..

𝐵𝑒𝑛 𝐷𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑑:

Nothing here yet..

𝑇𝑖𝑐𝑐𝑖 𝑇𝑜𝑏𝑦:

𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝑋-𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑢𝑠:

𝑋-𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑢𝑠 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝐴 𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤

A/N: This thought popped into my head after my boyfriend and I looked at engagement rings today, which has been stuck in my head for hours. I couldn’t help but write about the Poly!Task Force 141 with reader! I hope you guys enjoy.

Word Count: 2.0k

The glow of twinkling holiday lights reflected off the fresh blanket of snow that adorned the base of the towering evergreens, casting a magical ambiance over the secluded safehouse. Each individual light shimmered like a tiny star, illuminating the crisp winter night in soft, ethereal hues. The snow itself was pristine, untouched except for the faintest traces of footprints leading to the door—evidence of a quiet arrival long past. The air carried a profound stillness, broken only by the occasional whisper of wind through the branches, rustling the needles and adding a gentle symphony to the night. Somewhere in the distance, a lone owl hooted, its call echoing through the frosted forest.

The safehouse stood as a haven amid the wilderness, its rustic exterior adorned with garlands of fresh pine interwoven with crimson ribbons. Candles glimmered in the windows, their flickering light hinting at the warmth and life within. The faint scent of burning wood mingled with the crisp winter air, creating an intoxicating blend that spoke of comfort and serenity. Icicles clung to the edges of the roof, catching the light and refracting it into shimmering rainbows that danced with every movement of the breeze. It was a scene that could have been lifted from the pages of a holiday storybook, yet it carried an unspoken depth that transcended its picturesque beauty.

Inside, the transformation was even more profound. The safehouse had always been a place of refuge, a temporary escape from the chaos of missions and battles. But tonight, it had taken on a life of its own. Strings of lights were draped along the walls, their soft glow accentuating the wooden beams and casting a golden hue over the room. The fireplace roared with life, its flames crackling and sending warmth radiating outward. Stockings hung from the mantle, their cheerful designs a stark contrast to the tactical gear piled neatly in the corner. The scent of freshly baked cookies mingled with the aroma of mulled cider simmering on the stove, creating a sensory tapestry that was both comforting and nostalgic.

The living room was the heart of the transformation. A towering evergreen stood proudly in one corner, its branches laden with ornaments that glimmered in the firelight. Each decoration told a story—a tiny snow globe with a miniature reindeer inside, a silver bell with a faintly tarnished surface, a handmade star crafted from bits of foil. Some were new additions, while others bore the marks of years gone by, their significance known only to those who had placed them there. At the very top of the tree, a delicate angel gazed down with an expression of serene joy, her gown of spun glass catching the light and casting it into tiny prisms that danced across the walls.

Seated on the couch, Price leaned back with a rare look of contentment softening his features. A glass of whisky rested in his hand, and his usual air of command was replaced by a quiet ease. Nearby, Soap and Gaz were engaged in a lighthearted argument over a board game, their laughter filling the space and blending seamlessly with the holiday music playing softly in the background. Ghost sat in the armchair closest to the fire, his posture relaxed in a way that spoke of trust and comfort, though his sharp eyes never strayed far from the room's occupants. It was a moment of peace, fleeting but cherished—a sanctuary carved out of the tumult of their lives.

In the kitchen, you stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up and hair loosely tied back, focused intently on icing a batch of sugar cookies. The cookies were shaped like snowflakes, their intricate patterns reflecting the meticulous care you had put into each one. Flour dusted your hands and cheeks, a testament to the hours you had spent baking and decorating. The task was both a labor of love and a welcome distraction, a way to channel your energy into something tangible and uplifting. The soft strains of holiday music played from a small speaker, the familiar melodies weaving through the air and adding to the sense of warmth and tranquility.

As you set the icing bag down to stretch your arms, a sudden thought struck you: the boys had been unusually quiet for some time. Normally, the living room was alive with their banter—Soap’s boisterous laughter, Gaz’s sharp wit, Ghost’s dry humor, and Price’s steady interjections to maintain some semblance of order. Yet now, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the faint hum of the music.

“They’re up to something,” you murmured with a wry smile, wiping your hands on a dish towel. 

Curiosity piqued, you left the cookies behind and made your way toward the living room. The warmth of the fire grew stronger with each step, and the soft glow of the holiday lights beckoned you forward. As you approached, the faint sound of muffled movement gave you pause. “Alright, what are you lot scheming this time?” you called out playfully, your voice tinged with amusement.

No response.

Frowning, you stepped into the doorway—and froze.

The living room, bathed in the soft glow of the fire and twinkling holiday lights, held a scene you could never have anticipated. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost stood shoulder to shoulder near the tree, each holding a bouquet of vibrant red roses. Their expressions were a mix of anticipation and warmth, with just a hint of nervousness. At the center of it all was Price, standing tall and steady. In his hands was a small velvet box, its lid open to reveal a breathtaking ring.

The diamond was unlike anything you’d ever seen. It was an oval cut, its elongated shape elegantly reflecting the firelight in brilliant, kaleidoscopic flashes. The facets seemed to dance, catching every flicker of the room's glow and transforming it into a dazzling display of light. The band was crafted from platinum, its silvery sheen perfectly complementing the icy brilliance of the stone. Intricate filigree detailing traced along the band, forming delicate, swirling patterns reminiscent of frost on a windowpane. Small, round-cut diamonds were embedded into the filigree, creating a subtle shimmer that added depth and elegance without overpowering the centerpiece stone.

Your breath caught as your gaze fixed on the ring, its beauty almost surreal. It looked like it had been plucked straight from the winter landscape outside, its design as timeless and magical as the snow-covered world beyond the windows.  

Soap broke the silence, stepping forward with a grin that was unusually tender. “We were tryin’ to be subtle, lass,” he teased, his Scottish brogue soft. “Guess we’re not as sneaky as we thought.”  

Gaz chuckled, stepping up next to him. “We figured if we’re going to do this, we had to make it perfect. You deserve nothing less.”  

Ghost shifted slightly, his gloved hands gripping the bouquet tightly. “You’ve been through hell with us,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. “You stayed. That means everything.”  

Finally, Price’s deep, steady voice filled the space. “You’ve given us something we never thought we’d have,” he said, his blue eyes holding yours with a quiet intensity. “A home. A family. Let us show you how much that means—for the rest of our lives.”  

Your heart thundered in your chest, tears welling in your eyes as the weight of their words sank in. This wasn’t just a proposal—it was a declaration of love, unity, and the unbreakable bond you shared.  

“Marry us, bonnie,” Soap said, his grin widening but his voice soft, almost hesitant.  

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in the sight of them—these men who had faced countless dangers and carried the weight of the world on their shoulders—now offering their hearts to you. Your hands trembled, and a sob escaped your lips as the overwhelming emotion spilled over.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. Then louder, with uncontainable joy, “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

The tension broke as the room erupted with cheers. Soap was the first to reach you, scooping you up into a giddy embrace that made you laugh through your tears. Gaz followed, his hug warm and grounding, while Ghost’s was firm but careful, his whispered “Thank you” carrying a weight that made your chest ache with affection. Price took your hand last, sliding the ring onto your finger with reverent care before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.  

As you looked at the ring now adorning your finger, you marveled at how perfectly it captured the moment—brilliant, timeless, and irreplaceably yours. It wasn’t just a symbol of love; it was a promise, forged from the resilience, loyalty, and devotion that bound you all together.  

⋆⁺₊❅.

That night, the safehouse was filled with more than holiday cheer—it was filled with love. The bond you shared with these men was unshakable, a light brighter than any star on the tree. And as you curled up on the couch with them later, watching the fire crackle and feeling the weight of the ring on your finger, you realized this wasn’t just a safehouse. It was home. 

The celebration carried on well into the evening, the living room transformed into a space filled with laughter, warmth, and joy. Soap’s mischievous streak resurfaced as he popped open a bottle of champagne, the cork flying across the room with a loud “pop” that made Gaz duck and Ghost roll his eyes. “Watch it, MacTavish,” Ghost muttered, though there was no mistaking the faint smirk beneath his balaclava.

“Just addin’ some excitement to the night!” Soap retorted with a wink, pouring champagne into mismatched glasses that had been hastily gathered from the kitchen. Price handed you a glass first, his hand brushing yours in a gesture that felt both grounding and electric.

“To family,” he said, raising his glass. His voice was steady, but the emotion behind his words was unmistakable. The others joined in, their glasses clinking together in a toast that felt as binding as any vow.

The night unfolded in a tapestry of moments that would linger in your memory forever. Gaz took over the music, switching the playlist to a mix of holiday classics and upbeat tracks that had everyone—even Ghost—tapping their feet. At one point, Soap coaxed you into an impromptu dance, spinning you around the room until you were both breathless with laughter. Ghost, ever the observer, eventually joined in, his stiff movements earning playful jeers from Soap and Gaz but making you smile all the same.

Price, true to his nature, stayed close, watching over the group with a quiet contentment that seemed to soften his usual commanding presence. When the dancing subsided, he pulled you aside, wrapping a warm blanket around your shoulders and guiding you to the couch by the fire. The others followed, settling in around you like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

Stories flowed freely, each tale punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing remark. They spoke of missions gone awry, moments of triumph, and the camaraderie that had carried them through the darkest times. When it was your turn, you shared memories of quieter moments—the times you’d patched them up after missions, the late-night conversations over cups of tea, the small gestures that had solidified your bond.

As the night stretched on, the safehouse seemed to embrace you all in its warmth. The fire crackled softly, casting a golden glow over the room, and the snow continued to fall outside, muffling the world beyond. You leaned against Price, your head resting on his shoulder, while Soap and Gaz argued over the last cookie, their voices a playful counterpoint to the serenity of the moment. Ghost sat nearby, his posture relaxed, though his sharp eyes never strayed far from the group.

The ring on your finger caught the firelight, its brilliance a constant reminder of the promise you had made. It was more than a symbol; it was a testament to the love, trust, and unwavering loyalty that bound you to these men. Together, you had faced the unthinkable and emerged stronger, your bond forged in the crucible of shared trials and triumphs.

That night, as you drifted to sleep surrounded by the people who meant the world to you, a profound sense of belonging settled over you. This was more than a safehouse, more than a temporary refuge. It was your home, your family, and your future—a future as bright and enduring as the diamond on your finger.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢! ❄️

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑜𝑚𝑖-𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠

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 ❤️

are you planning on making a part two to bound by pain? the first part was so good I loved the concept !!

😉🤫

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I’m just teasing! But thank you! I love y’all’s enthusiasm for this story, I honestly thought it was kind of sloppy and all over the place while I was writing it (😅). I’ve been away for a little bit so I haven’t been around to writing a second part yet! But don’t worry lovelies, we’ll see what fate has in store for our dear reader. :)

𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

A/N: I’m back!! (But only for a little while lol) Take this as a sorry for my hiatus. Also, does the Eddsworld fandom still exist? Cause like I absolutely lived off it, though I kinda grew out of it. Anywho, I missed writing for you guys and I hope you enjoy.

TW: None, just pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.7k

Reader is gender-neutral.

Remember to drink plenty of water and eat delicious food, you are loved! ❤️

The rain pattered softly against the windowpane, a soothing rhythm that filled the cozy apartment. Tom sat on the couch, slouched against the cushions, nursing a cup of coffee and wearing his perpetual scowl. His hoodie was pulled up over his spiky hair, as though it could shield him from the gloomy weather outside.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more delighted. You stood by the window, watching the droplets race each other down the glass, your excitement barely contained.

“Tom!” you chirped, spinning around to face him, your eyes sparkling with an idea. “Let’s dance in the rain!”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Dance? In the rain? Why would we do that?”

“Because it’ll be fun!” you said, practically bouncing on your toes. “Come on, when was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”

“I’m happy right here,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely to his coffee and the couch. “Also, hypothermia is a thing. You know that, right?”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, tugging gently. “Oh, don’t be such a grump! A little rain never hurt anyone. Besides, you’ve got me to keep you warm.”

Tom groaned, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—not that he’d let you see it. He took another sip of his coffee, stalling for time, but the way you looked at him, eyes wide and pleading, made resistance futile.

“Fine,” he grumbled, setting his mug down and standing up. “But if I get sick, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal!” you beamed, practically dragging him toward the door.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ

Before he could change his mind, you both stepped outside. The rain was cool against your skin, and you spread your arms wide, spinning in circles and laughing. The downpour turned the world into a shimmering blur, droplets clinging to your hair and clothes as you twirled, a picture of unrestrained joy. Tom stood stiffly at first, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. But as he watched you, something softened in his expression.

“Come on, Tom!” you called, holding out your hands to him. “You’ve got to try it!”

He hesitated, then sighed heavily, stepping closer. You took his hands, intertwining your fingers, and began swaying to a rhythm only you could hear. Slowly, awkwardly, Tom followed your lead. The warmth of your touch seemed to melt away some of his resistance, and though he initially stumbled over his own feet, he eventually found a clumsy kind of rhythm.

“See?” you said, grinning up at him. “Isn’t this amazing?”

“It’s wet,” he deadpanned, but there was a softness in his tone that betrayed him.

You laughed, tilting your head back to let the rain kiss your face. Tom watched you, a strange warmth spreading through his chest despite the chill in the air. He couldn’t help but smile—a rare, genuine smile that he’d only ever let slip when he was with you.

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s not the worst thing,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Told you so,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

And for once, Tom didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled you closer, his movements growing less stiff as he spun you clumsily under the rain. As you danced, the rain seemed to transform the mundane into something magical. The patter of droplets against the pavement became a drumbeat, and the swish of your clothes against the water-soaked air added a melody. Your laughter was the crescendo, a sound so pure and infectious that Tom found himself chuckling along despite himself.

You spun away from him, arms wide, and did an impromptu little jig, splashing through the puddles. “Come on, Tom!” you urged, beckoning him with both hands. “You’ve got to let loose!”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto his face. “You’re going to regret this when you’re sneezing your head off tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” you said, shrugging and grinning mischievously. “But I’ll regret it even more if you don’t dance with me right now!”

Tom sighed dramatically, but he stepped forward, matching your movements with exaggerated effort. The sight of his half-hearted twirls and overly serious expression sent you into a fit of giggles.

“Not bad, Mr. Grumpypants,” you teased, grabbing his hands again and pulling him into a faster spin. “Now, don’t hold back!”

He grumbled something under his breath but followed your lead, stumbling a little as you twirled together. The world around you blurred as the rain fell harder, drenching you both completely. You lifted your arms, spinning away again, and when you turned back to face him, Tom was actually laughing—a deep, genuine laugh that you rarely heard. It was music to your ears, and you couldn’t help but join in.

“Look at you!” you said, pointing at him with mock surprise. “You’re having fun!”

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

You stepped closer and grabbed his hands again, swaying together under the rain. “Oh, I’m definitely getting used to it,” you said, your voice soft but playful. “You’re not as grumpy as you think you are.”

“Don’t push your luck,” he muttered, but his tone was light, and his grip on your hands was steady.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ

Time seemed to stretch as you danced together, the rain washing away any lingering hesitation. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, and rested your head against his chest. Tom stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, his arms circling your waist. The two of you swayed gently, your movements slowing to match the rhythm of the falling rain.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Tom didn’t respond right away, but his hand moved to gently brush a strand of wet hair from your face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”

The rain fell heavier, drenching you both until even Tom’s thick hoodie was thoroughly soaked. Despite his earlier protests, he seemed to forget himself for a moment, twirling you in an exaggerated, clumsy flourish that made you burst out laughing. The sound was like music to his ears, and he found himself laughing along with you, the kind of deep, genuine laugh that left his chest warm.

“You’re ridiculous!” you said, wiping rain from your face as you grinned up at him.

“Says the one who dragged me out here,” he shot back, though his words were softened by the unmistakable fondness in his gaze. “Let’s just call it even.”

The two of you continued dancing until your movements slowed, more swaying than spinning, letting the rain become a soothing backdrop to the quiet contentment between you. You rested your head against his chest, and he held you close, his chin resting lightly on top of your damp hair. The world around you seemed to pause, leaving only the two of you in your bubble of warmth and affection.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ

When you finally made your way back inside, you left a trail of puddles in your wake, your laughter still echoing through the small apartment.

Tom muttered complaints about the mess as he peeled off his soggy hoodie, but the flush on his cheeks had nothing to do with the cold. You handed him a towel, grinning mischievously as you wrapped one around yourself.

By the time you both changed into dry clothes, the coziness of the apartment felt like a stark contrast to the rainstorm outside. Tom reluctantly let you drape a blanket over both of you as you huddled together on the couch. His usual scowl softened as you leaned against him, your hair still damp and messy from the rain.

“I still think this was a terrible idea,” he grumbled, though his arm settled around your shoulders almost instinctively.

“Admit it, you had fun,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “Just a little?”

Tom rolled his eyes, but his silence spoke volumes. You smiled to yourself, content to let the warmth between you fill the room as the rain continued its steady rhythm outside.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ

The next morning, neither of you could deny the scratchy throats and sniffles that had set in. Tom’s grumbling reached new heights as he wrapped himself in a blanket cocoon on the couch, a box of tissues on one side and a mug of tea on the other.

“I told you this would happen,” he said, voice slightly hoarse but still laced with his trademark sarcasm.

You sat beside him, bundled up in your own blanket, your nose red and a pile of tissues forming on the coffee table. Despite it all, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Wasn’t it worth it, though?” you asked, nudging him playfully.

Tom glanced at you, his expression softening despite himself. “You’re insufferable,” he said, but there was no hiding the fondness in his tone.

“And you love it,” you shot back, grinning.

He didn’t reply, but the way he leaned against you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, said enough. Even sick and miserable, Tom knew he’d do it all over again if it meant seeing you that happy. And as you both huddled together, sharing warmth and quiet laughter, you couldn’t help but feel like the rain had brought you closer than ever.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ⛆ ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ

Over the next few days, the two of you fell into a rhythm of shared recovery. Tom, despite his grumbling, made sure your tea was always warm and your blanket properly tucked around you. You returned the favor by fussing over him, coaxing him to drink water and rest properly. It was a give-and-take that neither of you acknowledged outright, but it deepened the bond between you.

One afternoon, as the rain outside finally began to taper off, you turned to Tom with a thoughtful look. “You know,” you began, “we should do this again sometime. Maybe without the whole getting-sick-after part.”

Tom gave you a deadpan look. “You want me to voluntarily dance in the rain again?”

“Why not?” you said with a cheeky grin. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

He sighed, shaking his head, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” you replied, leaning against him with a contented smile.

Tom didn’t argue, his arm slipping around you once more as the two of you sat in comfortable silence. The rain may have passed, but the memory of that evening lingered, a reminder that sometimes, even the grumpiest souls need a little sunshine to brighten their days.

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

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠

𝐺𝐼𝐹 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠.

Small Hiatus

Hi guys!

Firstly, I am sorry I haven’t been writing a whole lot here recently. My family and I have begun celebrating Christmas and doing holiday themed activities, which kind of put me at a standstill with writing. I promise I will get to your guys requests it just might take some time. Secondly, I will be going on vacation from the 30th to the 5th so I will not be writing anything during that time as I wish too spend it with my family. I hope you guys will understand.

Love you guys and Happy Holidays!

— Merxcy ❤️💚

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 really love the vampire that got me laughing. Also, can there be a part 2 where Reader started to explain her story to Vi and Caitlyn. Vi feels heartbroken and started to hug her girlfriend and Caitlyn did the same thing. In the next morning, Vi and Reader was hanging out and going to a date in Zaun since Zaun and Piltover have been coexisting. Reader was excited and went to get something for Vi but then Vi was encountered by 3 men and started to walks Vi and she was ready to fight. But the 3 men was about to attack her but they heard a gust wind from behind them and saw a women who was smiling menacing and then her eyes started to change into red and her hair went to white and she started fight like crazy by breaking their bones with her arms and legs. The last man was about to attack her from behind but she disappeared and she did a spinning kick in his face and he flew to wall with a huge impact that will crack. Vi was stunned once again and she grabbed Reader and started kissing her. She said, “ I freaking love you.” Still in her vampire form she smiled.

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢

A/N: I love your ideas! Sorry it took me so long to write this, I’ve been busy with other requests, but I never could forget yours! <3

Word Count: 0.7k

TW: Murder and Fighting.

Reader is a female!

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

You took a deep breath, your glowing red eyes dimming slightly as you began your explanation. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” you said, your voice shaky but earnest. “I swear, Vi, I would never hurt anyone… anyone innocent, at least. I only feed when I absolutely have to, and I always make sure it’s—”

“A rat?” Vi cut in, her tone a mix of disbelief and lingering panic. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow but remained silent, her rifle still lowered.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. I don’t hurt people unless I’m forced to defend myself. Please, Vi, you have to believe me.”

Vi’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she processed your words. She wanted to believe you—desperately so—but the sight of your fangs and the memory of the blood dripping from your lips were still fresh in her mind. Yet, as she stared into your trembling eyes, the same eyes she had fallen for, her resolve softened.

Cautiously, she stepped closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “You should’ve told me,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t care what you are… but lying to me, hiding this from me…”

“I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you’d run if you knew. That you’d—”

Without warning, Vi pulled you into a tight hug, cutting you off mid-sentence. The sudden warmth of her embrace made you freeze for a moment before you relaxed into her arms, relief washing over you.

“I’m mad,” Vi muttered against your hair. “But I still love you. Damn it, I still love you.”

Caitlyn, who had been silently observing, sighed and joined the hug, albeit a little awkwardly. “I’m… glad we’re not dealing with a murderous vampire,” she said dryly. “But we’re going to have a long conversation about this later.”

The three of you stayed like that for a moment, the tension in the air slowly dissipating.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The next morning, Vi and you decided to spend some time together in Zaun, where the two cities of Piltover and Zaun had finally begun to coexist. The air was thick with the smell of oil and metal, but you didn’t mind. It reminded you of home.

You had planned a surprise for Vi and had run off to grab something, leaving her to explore the bustling streets on her own. She leaned against a wall, watching the eclectic mix of Zaunites go about their day, when she noticed three men approaching her.

“Hey,” one of them said with a sneer, “you look like you don’t belong here, Enforcer.”

Vi straightened, her fists instinctively clenching. “You really want to do this right now?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

The men chuckled, circling her like wolves around prey. “What’s an Enforcer doing down here all alone?” another jeered.

Vi was ready for a fight, her gauntleted fists sparking with anticipation. But before anyone could make a move, a gust of wind rushed past, and a familiar figure appeared behind the men.

It was you.

Your eyes gleamed crimson, and your hair turned stark white as a menacing grin spread across your face. “You’re messing with the wrong person,” you said, your voice dripping with predatory amusement.

Before the men could react, you launched into action. You moved like a whirlwind, your arms and legs a blur as you disarmed and incapacitated the first two men in a matter of seconds. The sickening sound of bones breaking echoed through the alley as you tossed them aside like ragdolls.

The third man, desperate and terrified, tried to attack you from behind. But you disappeared in a flash, reappearing above him mid-spin. Your kick connected with his face, sending him flying into the wall with enough force to crack the stone.

Vi stood frozen, her mouth slightly agape. She had seen you fight before, but never like this. You turned to her, still in your vampiric form, and wiped a speck of blood from your lip.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice calm and concerned despite the chaos you had just unleashed.

Vi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she grabbed you by the collar and kissed you, hard and passionate. When she finally pulled away, she grinned breathlessly. “I freaking love you,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration.

You blinked in surprise before breaking into a wide, fanged smile. “Even like this?” you teased, gesturing to your glowing eyes and white hair.

“Especially like this,” Vi replied, pulling you close again.

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

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠

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

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

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