𝐶𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑦𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡:

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.

Hi, can u do Vi x Reader. Where Vi and Reader are hanging out with Caitlyn till they stop by a candy store. Reader was squealing happily and ran to the store and got Bean Boozled Candy. Vi and Caitlyn were nervous because they are good and bad ones. They went to Caitlyn’s place in the kitchen and got started. Vi was sweating a little bit and Reader was excited. The first round was blueberry and toothpaste. Vi and Reader got the good one while Caitlyn got the toothpaste. On the second round, it was Carmel corn or moldy cheese. Reader and Caitlyn got the one while Vi got the bad one and she spit immediately and making disgusting faces. On the final round, it was licorice or skunk spray. Reader got the good one but Vi and Caitlyn got the bad one and they went to kitchen to get water to rinse it out. Vi was feeling funny and she went to the sink and throw up. 

𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜

A/N: I woke up to this request and might I say it made me laugh so hard. Definitely brings me back to when I was younger doing this challenge with my siblings. Also you’re my first request on this blog, congrats!! <3

Word Count: 0.6k

TW: Vomit

Reader is gender-neutral

It had been a casual afternoon spent with Caitlyn, and Vi didn’t think it could get any better—or worse—until the three of you stumbled upon a small candy store. The bright display of sweets immediately caught your attention, and before Vi could say anything, you let out a squeal of excitement. “Oh my gosh! They have Bean Boozled! We have to play!” you exclaimed, practically bouncing on your heels.

Vi and Caitlyn exchanged wary glances. They both knew about the infamous candy game—jelly beans that looked identical but could taste like anything from blueberries to skunk spray. Vi scratched the back of her neck while Caitlyn adjusted her gloves, clearly apprehensive. “You sure about this, babe?” Vi asked, side-eyeing the brightly colored package you were clutching to your chest. “Positive!” you chirped, already heading toward the checkout counter.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Back at Caitlyn’s pristine kitchen, you were practically vibrating with excitement while Vi leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and Caitlyn meticulously read the instructions as if she were preparing for an interrogation. “Alright,” Caitlyn announced, setting the box down. “First round—blueberry or toothpaste.” You spun the little wheel and handed out the blue jelly beans, grinning from ear to ear.

“Here goes nothing,” Vi muttered, popping the jelly bean into her mouth. Her face lit up almost immediately. “Oh! Blueberry! Not bad.” You grinned as you chewed yours. “Same! So good!” Caitlyn, however, chewed slowly before grimacing. “Toothpaste,” she admitted with a slight frown. “It’s minty, but honestly, not the worst thing in the world.”

The second round—caramel corn or moldy cheese—had Vi already starting to sweat. You spun the wheel again and handed out the jelly beans, and the three of you bit down simultaneously. Vi’s reaction was immediate. “Gah!” she yelped, spitting the jelly bean into a napkin as her face twisted in utter disgust. “Oh, no! That’s definitely moldy cheese!” You and Caitlyn burst into laughter as Vi grabbed a glass of water to rinse her mouth. “Caramel corn!” you cheered, savoring the sweet flavor. Caitlyn nodded, holding her candy like a prize. “Same here,” she said with a smug grin. “Guess you got the short end of the stick this time, Vi.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vi grumbled, still grimacing. “Let’s just get this over with.” The final round was the ultimate test—licorice or skunk spray. You handed out the black jelly beans, and the tension in the room was palpable.

“Ready?” you asked, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not even a little,” Vi replied, narrowing her eyes at the jelly bean. “Three… two… one!”

You bit into yours and immediately grinned. “Licorice! Yes!”

Meanwhile, Vi and Caitlyn froze as the taste hit them. Caitlyn’s face turned green as she bolted to the sink, groaning, “Oh, no! Skunk spray!” Vi’s eyes went wide, and a horrified expression spread across her face. “This is disgusting!” she sputtered, rushing to the sink right after Caitlyn. She grabbed a glass of water and frantically rinsed her mouth, but it wasn’t enough. Moments later, Vi bent over the sink and retched, the taste lingering far longer than she’d like.

“Vi, are you okay?” you asked, half-concerned, half-laughing. “Never again,” Vi groaned, glaring at the box of candies as if it had personally offended her.

“You’re way too good at this, babe.” Shrugging with a cheeky grin, you popped another jelly bean into your mouth. “What can I say? It’s a gift.” Caitlyn, still sipping water to wash the taste from her mouth, shook her head with a small smile. “Next time, we’re picking something a little less… hazardous.”

Vi shot her a look. “Next time? Yeah, no thanks. I’m retiring from jelly beans for life.” The three of you laughed about it for the rest of the evening—though Vi made sure to steer you far away from any candy stores on the walk home.

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

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦: @𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠-𝑛-𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦.

A/N: This idea has been itching in the back of my head all day that I couldn’t help but write it down. Enjoy my lovelies.

TW: Cheating, Angst to Comfort, Yelling, Grief.

Word Count: 1.3K

Reader is Female

The evening air was thick with the usual hustle and bustle of Piltover’s streets, the city’s golden glow reflecting off polished steel and glass. You paced nervously in your modest apartment, going over your latest conversation with Vi in your mind. The room felt smaller than usual, closing in with every unresolved thought.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Before the fractures started to show, there was a time when everything felt perfect. You and Vi would lie together in the dim glow of lanterns, sprawled across the couch in her Zaunite hideout or tucked away in your Piltover apartment. She’d whisper wild dreams about a future where Zaun and Piltover weren’t at each other’s throats, where no one had to fight to survive.

“You know what I think about sometimes?” Vi had asked one night, her head resting on your chest as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her pink hair. “A wedding. Ours. Somewhere at the border where Zaun and Piltover meet. A big bridge all lit up with lights. No sides. Just us.”

You’d laughed softly, your hand pausing in her hair. “You? Thinking about a wedding? That’s rich.”

She’d grinned up at you, punching your arm lightly. “Hey, don’t ruin my moment. I’m being serious here. Just imagine it, yeah? Everyone from both cities, sitting together, watching us make something real. Something they’d have to believe in because we believed in it first.”

Her words had filled you with a warmth so deep it made your chest ache. You’d cupped her face, looking into those sharp, determined eyes. “I’d marry you anywhere, Vi. Even if it’s just us on some rooftop in Zaun. But if that’s your dream, then I’ll make it mine, too.”

The smile she gave you then was unlike any you’d ever seen—soft, vulnerable, and full of hope. For a moment, it felt like anything was possible.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

But dreams are fragile things, easily broken by reality. As the weeks passed, the cracks in that perfect vision began to show. It started with small disagreements, the weight of your responsibilities in Piltover colliding with her unwavering loyalty to Zaun. You’d tell her about the progress you were making in your work, trying to bridge gaps between the two cities, but she’d scoff, calling it naive.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Vi had said, her voice low and rough during that fateful argument. “Piltover chews people up and spits them out. You think you can change that from the inside?”

Your reply had been sharp, almost desperate. “I have to try! I can’t just… sit back and do nothing. Not everyone in Piltover is corrupt. Some of us want to make it better.”

Vi’s jaw tightened, and she let out a bitter laugh. “And what? You think they’ll listen to you because you’re one of them? You’re just another cog in their machine. You don’t belong to Zaun, and you don’t belong to me if this is the path you want.”

The words had cut deep, and neither of you had backed down. The argument spiraled into accusations and misunderstandings until she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. That was two weeks ago, and you hadn’t seen her since.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The silence between you hadn’t lasted long before the news came. Vi had been arrested during a raid on one of Zaun’s safe houses, caught in the act of defending a group of children hiding from enforcers. She hadn’t gone quietly—they said she’d taken down three officers before being subdued. You heard whispers of her being transferred to Stillwater Hold, Piltover’s most notorious prison.

You wanted to help her, but what could you do? Your position in Piltover’s hierarchy was tenuous at best. Every attempt to pull strings was met with cold refusals and veiled warnings. The system you believed in had failed her, just as she’d always said it would.

The days stretched into weeks, and though you tried to visit, the guards at Stillwater Hold never let you through. Each rejection felt like another nail in the coffin of what you and Vi had shared.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The first week after her arrest, you had told yourself she’d come back. That somehow, some way, you’d find a way to fix things. But as days turned into weeks, the silence spoke louder than any words could. You threw yourself into your work, trying to drown the ache in productivity. Every morning you donned the mask of a dedicated citizen of Piltover, hoping no one noticed the cracks. At night, the silence of your apartment swallowed you whole.

Months passed, and the emptiness became a part of you, a dull ache that refused to fade. You told yourself you were moving on, but every corner of Piltover held memories of her—the way she’d smirk at the absurdity of high-society parties, or how her fingers felt laced with yours as you walked the streets together.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

But tonight was different. Tonight, you couldn’t focus. The city’s energy only served as a painful reminder of the life you and Vi had once dreamed of together—a bridge between two worlds, something neither of you had fully understood but had hoped to build.

A loud cheer from the street below broke your thoughts. Curious, you moved to the window, brushing aside the curtain. A festival was in full swing, the streets alive with laughter and music. And then you saw her.

Vi.

She stood out effortlessly, her pink hair glowing under the lantern lights, her confident stance drawing eyes. But it wasn’t just her presence that made your heart stop. It was the way she leaned toward someone, her hands resting casually on Caitlyn Kiramman’s waist. The enforcer’s dark hair framed her delicate features, and her smile was bright and unguarded as she whispered something that made Vi laugh.

Your chest tightened as Vi’s laughter softened, her face inching closer to Caitlyn’s. And then they kissed. It wasn’t hesitant or fleeting. It was passionate, the kind of kiss that spoke of intimacy and trust—a connection.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back from the window, your hands trembling. The sight was burned into your mind, a cruel reminder of everything you’d lost. The ache in your chest blossomed into a full-fledged storm, rage and sorrow intertwining until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

You thought of the nights you’d stayed awake, waiting for her to come back. Of the times she’d held you close, promising that no matter what, you were her safe haven. All of it seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the reality of what you’d just seen.

The urge to confront her was overwhelming, but what would you even say? That it wasn’t fair? That you still loved her? That you’d been wrong to think you could make a difference in Piltover without her by your side?

You stepped away from the window, the walls of your apartment suddenly suffocating. With trembling hands, you grabbed your coat and headed outside, blending into the festive crowds. The music was too loud, the colors too bright, but you walked aimlessly, desperate to escape the whirlpool of emotions inside you.

Eventually, you found yourself at the edge of the festival, where the noise faded into the quiet hum of the city. You leaned against a cold, steel railing, staring out over the distant horizon. Zaun’s shadowed depths loomed below, a reminder of where Vi had come from and where you could never truly follow her.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you let them fall. For the first time, you allowed yourself to grieve—not just for the love you’d lost, but for the dream that had shattered between you. And as the city lights flickered around you, you made a quiet promise to yourself.

You would move forward, step by step, even if it hurt. Because if there was one thing Vi had taught you, it was that survival wasn’t about never falling—it was about finding the strength to rise again.

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

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑦: @𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠-𝑛-𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝐺𝐼𝐹 𝑏𝑦: @𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑓𝑠

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

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.

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.

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

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 ❤️

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.