𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢

𝑆𝑎𝑙 𝐹𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

Characters: Sal Fisher

TW: None, this is all fluff :)

a/n: My first ever written piece for Tumblr! I’m very excited to publish this for you all to read. The rest of the gang will be coming soon, don’t worry! With that being said, enjoy!

𝐒𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫:

♡ My favorite baby blue boy 💙

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩:

♡ You two met when you moved into Addison Apartments!

♡ You and your family had moved in the apartment that was beside Todd. Your family had encouraged you to go around a meet your neighbors since you had already finished unpacking, and lucky for you, you just happened to run into the blue haired boy with pigtails talking to a kid with glasses, who you presumed to be his friend.

♡ Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, you figured you would introduce yourself to them later. Little did you know you caught the attention of the pigtailed boy as you walked past them, kind of had the look he gave towards Ashley in the second chapter!

♡ Asks Larry or Chug if they had met you and asks a million questions about you also.

♡ He goes out of his way to find more information about you, that cool book you just read about? He will finish the entire book or series that night. Just saw this cool movie? He’s watching it as soon as he gets home from school. This band you recently got into? He’s buying all their albums. He wants to learn everything about you.

♡ Finally, he goes up to apartment door—thankfully you answer and not one of your parents—and introduces himself and soon he finds himself enthralled by you.

♡ Now you two are officially attached at the hip, going where the other goes.

♡ Larry can see Sal growing more and more fond of you each day that passes. Even poking at Sal to make a move already.

♡ Sal finally works up the courage to ask you out that night and asks you at school if you wanted to hang out at his apartment later, and of course you agree.

♡ Freaks out. Tremendously. Is running around the apartment like crazy making sure everything is tidy and neat before you arrive. Even has Larry come up to help him.

♡ Larry tries to calm down Sal, telling Sal that he just needs to breathe and stop worrying because she likes you for who you are and isn’t going to judge you.

♡ That isn’t to say you aren’t freaking out about this too, you have only ever hung out with Sal at school, the treehouse, Larry’s room or Todd’s room.

♡ Panicking, you call Ashley and she tells you the same thing Larry said to Sal.

“Just breathe, Reader; Sal cares for you in his own quiet way, I’ve seen the look in his eyes whenever you’re near. The way he remembers the things that matter to you, it’s obvious that he loves you. You just need to tell him.”

♡ Those words brought you comfort, and little did Sal know you planned on doing the same thing he was doing.

♡ Soon, the time arrives for you to head over to Sal’s place to hang out.

♡ You two are having so much fun, playing with his Gearboy, Messing with Gizmo, watching horror movies, etc.

♡ You even got to meet Sal’s dad, who tells you to call him Henry instead of Mr. Fisher—he jokingly told you that Mr. Fisher is name you would use to call an old person and he isn’t ready for that title yet.

♡ Then the time comes where he feels confident enough to ask you to be his.

♡ When he does ask you out, I picture you guys having a Luz and Amity moment from the Owl House—when Luz tries to ask out Amity but she’s beat Luz to it first.

𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩:

♡ He 100 percent trusts you—after all you did ask him to date you—but it takes him a while to take his prosthetic off around you, like months.

♡ Once he feels more comfortable with you, the mask is always off.

Side note: Sal loves it when you take in consideration of his skincare, I headcanon that Sal has very sensitive skin after the incident and can only use certain brands of soap to wash his face with. One time you found a brand that wouldn’t aggravate his skin and offered to help him wash his face with it, he started to cry.

♡ Sal would try and be the best boyfriend he could be: never forgetting anniversaries, reminding you of your schedule, helping you with homework, etc.

♡ Would absolutely teach you how to play guitar in your guys spare time.

♡ Writes little songs for you on and sometimes plays them for you.

♡ I feel like Sal’s type of love is physical touch—since he was deprived of it at a young age—quality time, acts of service and words of affirmation.

♡ Sal will go out of his way to get you little gifts or trinkets (whether bought or found somewhere random), he always makes sure to take mental notes whenever you mention you want something from a certain store.

“Hey I found this flower, and it reminded me of us.”

♡ Loves prolonged hugs and cuddle sessions with you, like I said earlier, I picture Sal being touched deprived so any chance he could take you to either his room or the nearest sofa with Gizmo laying near you guys, it is like heaven for him.

♡ Would let you paint his nails, do his hair, or even put makeup on him. He loves being your personal model, it makes him feel pretty.

♡ Sal is not really big on looks—for obvious reasons—he just wants someone who will accept for who he is.

♡ Sal is obsessed with wearing your clothes. Sal is a short king and if you and him are the exact same size or your taller than him, you best BELIEVE he will be walking around Addison Apartments with some form of your clothing on.

♡ If you wear something of his though? Game over.

♡ One time you went into Sal’s room thinking he was in there, only to find him gone and his sweater lying neatly on his bed. Surely he wouldn’t get mad over you wearing his black sweater for a little bit, right? Once Sal returned back to his room after trying to find ghosts around the building, he found you sprawled out on his bed , wearing his sweater, with Gizmo in your lap, purring. This boy’s face became completely flushed under his mask and couldn’t even bring himself to look at you for the remainder of the day.

♡ Dates are more lowkey between you two. Staying home and playing video games or movie nights are two of his favorites.

♡ Please kiss him all over, prosthetic or not. He adores it. 💙

♡ Calls you Bluebell, Love, Princess/Prince, Sunshine, Sweetheart, Dear, Beloved.

♡ Would absolutely cook for you if you ask him too. For me, I feel Sal’s mom used to be the main cook of the household, reading recipes she would find from cookbooks. After her passing, Sal secretly took one of her cookbooks and stashed it away in his room in New Jersey and still has it even as an adult.

♡ Whenever you guys are public, he makes it known you are taken—not in a jealous kind of way, more like showing public affection.

♡ Locks pinkies with you.

♡ Loves just wrapping his arms around you and laying his head on your shoulder. It brings him comfort.

♡ Reads you like a book, even though he’s not great with his emotions, he can tell whenever yours have changed.

♡ Has matching bracelets with you, that he never takes off, unless he’s showering.

♡ Absolutely sees a future with you.

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

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑦: 𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠-𝑛-𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

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

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

Thank you my darling! ❤️❤️

Ghosts of the Past

The darkness felt suffocating.

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

But the nightmare had been too real this time.

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

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

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

That was all it took.

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

"Love? You alright?"

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

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

"Another nightmare?"

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

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

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

"Breathe, sweetheart. Slow it down."

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t up for debate.

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

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

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

They weren’t leaving.

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

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

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

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

"Sleep, love. We’ve got you."

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

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

PLEASE READ!

Hey everyone, firstly I would like to apologize for the lack of writing. I know I promised more headcanons for the Sally face crew but exams have been consuming me for the last two weeks, and I am just beyond tired. I have one more final on Thursday and I will be on break (hopefully I will start writing soon). On a positive note, I will begin taking requests during my break! So please feel free to ask away and I will do the best I can to get back with you!

Also, thank you so much for the support on the Sal Fisher headcanons. I am new to writing fanfiction and it means so much to mean that you guys have taken the time to read my work and hearted it.

Love ya guys,

Merxcy <3

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.

𝐹𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑆𝑘𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝐵𝑙𝑢𝑒

A/N: I am filled with angsty ideas, you guys to need recommend me some fluff! Anyway, I figured I would write about Jinx next, since i wrote about Vi.

TW: Death, Hallucinations, Guns, Accidental Murder.

Word Count: 1.4k

Reader is Female

You were always there for Powder.

From the moment you two stumbled into each other’s lives as kids, scuffing your knees and laughing through the grime of Zaun, you knew she was special. Powder, with her bright blue hair, endless dreams, and that mischievous light in her eyes—she made you believe in something more. Maybe it was the way she rambled on about her silly inventions, or the way her hands danced when she explained her wildest ideas, her voice full of hope. Or maybe it was because you saw her as she saw you: someone who wanted to belong.

You loved her. Even as kids, it was there, silent but true. Not that you ever said anything. How could you? She was Powder, your Powder. The girl who wanted to ride a blimp and touch the clouds. The girl who dreamed of the topside skies.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Then it all fell apart.

You remembered the smoke, the shouting, the chaos that swallowed your home whole. Vander was gone. Vi was gone. And Powder…

No, Jinx.

They said she vanished. They whispered about the girl with the bombs, the one who burned bright like a firework and destroyed everything in her wake. The Zaunites called her a ghost, a demon, Silco’s pet monster.

But you couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t believe it.

You spent weeks wandering through the debris-strewn streets of the Lanes. Every alley, every shadow seemed to hold a trace of her. You heard whispers of Silco, of strange explosions, but none of it led you to her. The places you once played together—the old sewer tunnel, the abandoned warehouses—were empty now, silent ruins filled with ghosts.

The nights were the worst. You’d sit under the broken pipes of your hideout, staring at the dim glow of Piltover above, wondering if Powder was watching the same light. You whispered to the darkness, hoping she might hear you. “Come back, Powder. Please.”

But there was only silence.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Months became years, and time changed you. The streets taught you how to survive, how to scrape by when the world turned cold. You worked odd jobs, scavenging parts from scrap heaps, running errands for merchants who barely paid you a coin. But you never stopped dreaming for something better—not for yourself, but for her.

You still saw her sometimes, in glimpses. A flash of blue down a crowded street. A laugh that sounded just like hers, only to turn into static when you followed. You knew it wasn’t real. She was a ghost now, the ghost of your Powder.

And yet, you pressed on. You worked harder, pushing yourself through the grime and the hunger. You told yourself it was what Powder would’ve wanted. We’ll go live topside with Vi and Vander, we’ll make something of ourselves she would say tinkering with her latest invention. And you tried.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Eventually, you saved enough to get out of Zaun—even just for a little while. The topside was everything Powder once described to you, from the clean cobblestone streets to the strange, humming machines in Piltover’s marketplace. You marveled at it all, feeling out of place yet unable to tear your gaze away. And that was when you saw it: a blimp soaring high above the streets, its silver hull gleaming in the sunlight.

You’d promised her once. We’ll ride one together someday.

It hurt, but you paid what little you had for a single ride.

When you stepped onto the deck, your heart pounded. The wind whipped through your hair as the blimp climbed higher and higher, leaving the city behind. Below, the sprawling streets of Piltover gave way to clouds, soft and endless.

It was beautiful.

You closed your eyes and let yourself imagine that she was there beside you, her small hand in yours, her face full of wonder. “See, Powder? I made it. Just like you wanted.”

The words were stolen by the wind, but you hoped she heard them wherever she was.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It happened on a day like any other.

You were wandering through an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the Lanes, searching for scrap to sell. The air smelled like rust and smoke, and the metal creaked beneath your boots. It was late in the evening, the shadows long and the silence unnerving. You had learned to tune it out over the years—the way Zaun felt like it was always waiting to swallow you whole.

Then you saw her.

A flash of blue.

You froze in place, your heart slamming against your ribs. At first, you thought it was just another hallucination, a cruel trick of the fading light. But then she moved, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing across the concrete.

Your voice caught in your throat. “Powder?”

She turned, slowly, and for a moment, your world stopped.

It was her—and yet it wasn’t. The girl you remembered, the girl you loved, had changed. Her hair, once braided carefully with your help, now hung in wild, tangled strands. Her clothes were a chaotic patchwork of leather and belts, torn and smeared with soot. Her eyes… they weren’t the soft blue you remembered. They glowed pink, sharp and unnatural, like embers left too long in the fire.

Her gaze settled on you, and she tilted her head, smiling in a way that didn’t feel quite right. “Haven’t heard that name in a while,” she said, her voice sing-songy, almost mocking.

Your chest tightened. “It’s you,” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes. “It’s really you. I thought you were gone.”

The smile widened. “I’m not gone. I’m just… better.”

“Powder,” you stepped closer, ignoring the alarm bells going off in your mind. You had to be sure. “It’s me. I’m here. I looked for you. I never stopped looking.”

Something flickered in her gaze—a hesitation, like she recognized you. But it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.

“Jinx,” she corrected. “That’s my name now. Jinx.”

The word made your stomach drop. You’d heard the name whispered in hushed voices across the Lanes. The girl with the bombs. Silco’s girl. But this wasn’t Jinx. This was Powder. It had to be.

“Powder, please,” you begged softly. “It’s me. Remember? I… I love you.”

Her smile faltered, and for the briefest moment, you saw her. Powder. The girl you shared everything with. The girl who promised you both would touch the sky one day.

You surged forward, wrapping your arms around her trembling frame. “You’re okay,” you whispered against her shoulder. “You’re safe. You’re home now.”

Then it snapped.

Her body went rigid, and suddenly you were shoved back, her strength far greater than you remembered. You stumbled, confusion turning into panic as you saw the wild look in her eyes—eyes darting around like they were chasing something you couldn’t see.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, hands clutching at her temples. “You’re not real. You’re not real.”

“Powder, it’s me!” you cried. “I’m right here! Look at me, please!”

Her gaze snapped back to you, sharp as glass. “Liar,” she hissed. “You’re one of them. You’re just like them!”

You opened your mouth to plead again… and that’s when you saw it.

The gun in her hand.

Your heart stopped. “Powder…”

“Jinx! It’s Jinx now!” she screamed, her finger trembling on the trigger. Her pink eyes flickered, caught between recognition and madness. For a moment, you swore you saw tears there, too.

“Please,” you whispered, stepping forward. “I love you, Powder. I always have.”

The words hung in the air, fragile and fleeting.

Her expression broke—just for a second.

Then… Bang.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The world was quiet.

The pain was immediate and blinding, burning through your chest as you fell to your knees. You gasped for breath, your vision swimming with spots of color.

Jinx—Powder—stared at you, her eyes wide, her hands shaking around the smoking gun. The grin had vanished. In its place was horror, her lips quivering as she dropped the weapon to the ground.

“No… no, no, no…” she whispered, stumbling forward. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to!”

You tried to speak, but nothing came. The air was too thin, too far away. All you could do was look at her—the girl you’d loved since you were kids. The girl who dreamed of touching the sky.

Your vision blurred, and as the darkness crept in, you thought of the blimp. The sunlight. The clouds stretching out forever.

“For you, Powder,” you mouthed, your lips barely moving.

And then… nothing.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Jinx sat there for a long time, cradling your lifeless body.

In the silence, the hallucinations whispered their cruel mockery. But for once, Jinx didn’t listen. She just stared at you, the only person who ever loved her, truly loved her, and wondered if she had finally broken something she couldn’t fix.

The sky, somewhere above Zaun, remained blue.

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

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦: @𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠-𝑛-𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

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

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

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! 💕