#imagiens

[disneyprincemuke]

✧.* the parent trap / ls2 *.✧

while luna's observant nature is typically a blessing, you suddenly find yourself a part of her little games after you and logan get into a fight that leaves you refusing to talk to one another

notes: i missed dad!logan so here we are

“love,” logan sighs as his hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “come on.”

“don’t even say that to me!” you shriek before turning to walk away from him. “no, seriously, logan. i no longer want to speak to you.”

“you can’t just do that!”

“yeah, i can! watch me!”

marriage is fun, they said. though you actually cannot remember who specifically said that to you, or is that something you told yourself to make yourself feel better for getting married at 20?

either way, it’s tough juggling being a wife to an athlete who is rarely home, your job and a 5-year-old. you just wish someone had talked some sense into you before you decided that teenage pregnancy was smart.

spoiler alert: it, in fact, is not.

so you spend the night in the guest room by yourself with frustration in your veins. you could have opted to continue arguing with logan, but the sleeping toddler just a door down just makes it so difficult to continue.

your ability to turn a petty argument into a full fledged argument has bled into your marriage, and you have to admit that both of you are still slowly still figuring that part out.

it’s a lot harder than you thought.

you fall asleep after tossing and turning for hours, not used to the stiffness of the bed in the guest bedroom that’s only ever lived in when logan’s brother comes for a visit. the sheets smell too clean and the room is neat — you’re rarely inside, only using it as luna’s makeshift playroom at times.

so imagine the toddler’s shock when she knocks on the master bedroom door and stumbles in only to find one parent under the sheets. and it’s not even the same as before: she’d half expected you laying by yourself but not this time. it’s just logan.

considering logan is rarely home makes it all the more perplexing for the blue eyed kid.

she hums, climbing over logan who’s lying on his side. “where’s mummy?”

“mummy needed some ‘me time’,” logan grins, peeking through an eye as luna climbs under the sheets, nuzzling herself into his arms. “mummy is sleeping in the next room over.”

luna hums, nodding understandingly though concerned for her mother. she contemplates checking on you briefly, but the minute logan’s soft snores filled the empty room again, she knew she was stuck in place for the next couple of minutes until logan remembers that luna is here to wake you both up for breakfast.

so she sighs, closing her eyes and forcing herself into a slumber again to ignore her grumbling stomach. and because she hasn’t seen logan for 2 weeks, so this is kinda nice.

luna is awoken by the smell of pancakes and she knows instantly that you’ve finally rolled out of bed and mummy’s ‘me time’ is finally over. she scrambles out of logan’s arms, completely unaware of the deep slumber that her father has slipped into, interrupted by her thrashing around.

“mummy!” the girl screeches as she opens the door, stuffed koala locked between her arm and her body. “are those pancakes?”

“good morning, lulu,” you greet her, setting a plate down on the table. she greets you softly, wobbling over to you and tiptoeing when you press a kiss to the top of her head. “you slept with daddy?”

“i went in to wake him up,” she mutters, climbing onto the seat next to you, “then we fell asleep again.”

logan stumbles out of the room as well, hair a mess and eyes still half open. he merely glances at you, catching your eye as you both consider acting civilised in front of your child. though your argument is fresh in both of your heads, he greets you nonchalantly as he passes you on his way to the kitchen.

he didn’t even have to look at the table to know that you’d only prepared breakfast for yourself and luna.

“morning,” you find yourself greeting him back with a small smile to play the part in front of luna. you hunch over again and pat luna. “do you wanna go out and do something today, lulu? let’s have a girls’ day?”

she hums again, leaning forward to grab her utensils. “without daddy?”

you tilt your head. “daddy’s not a girl.”

you see luna purse her lips, furrowing her eyebrows as she considers your offer. logan is only going to be home for a week and a half, and she knows that. but you can’t physically stand the thought of staying at home with logan in the vicinity, your argument still leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

it’s just unfair that he was questioning your parenting decisions when he’s rarely here for luna the majority of the time. sure, you know how difficult it is for him to cope with the situation, always feeling like an absent father more often than not. but it’s not a good enough reason to question how you choose to deal with emergencies you deal with by yourself when he’s not home.

it’s not fair that he’d question your ability to be a parent to your sole child.

“okay,” luna shrugs with a smile. “can we go to build-a-bear?”

you smile and nod. “of course!”

it’s been 2 days since you’ve spoken to logan. both of you are running out of excuses to tell luna why you’re not sleeping in the same bed and why you’re practically ignoring one another.

acting civilised in front of the toddler seemed okay at first, until luna opened the door to the guest bedroom with a head tilt and questions on her lips.

“mummy, do you not love daddy anymore?”

you cannot begin to explain how fast you sat up and turned to the door with mirrored furrowed eyebrows and a head tilt. “luna, why would you ask me that?”

she shrugs with a frown, looking down at her feet. “did you fight?”

you sigh, closing your eyes. you always knew treating luna like a normal human being would bound to have it’s disadvantages. she’s a very well spoken 5-year-old, articulate and more spatially aware than you would like.

“mummy and daddy are just figuring something out,” you explain softly as she closes the door behind her and walks over to where you are. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t love him anymore. why would you say that?”

she climbs on the bed and settles herself on your lap, immediately nuzzling her face into your chest. “i’m just making sure. cause i still love daddy.”

“well, i still love daddy,” you grin, brushing her hair. “i’m just upset with him right now. like you with your friend in preschool, remember? but that doesn’t mean we won’t ever make up.”

luna hums throwing her head back with a grin. then she scrambles out of bed, koala stuffie still in her arms as she runs out of the room. “okay!”

“lulu, where are you going?”

she shrugs, tiptoeing as she opens the door to leave you. “it’s my playtime now.” she turns to you with a cheeky grin. “do you want to join me?”

you nod. “can i join you in a couple of minutes? mummy’s got some work to finish.”

she nods before she closes the door behind her. but while you think that she’s disappeared into the living room for playtime, she actually makes a sharp turn for the master bedroom to ask logan the same thing.

she opens the door, feigning sadness with her head hung low. she frowns as she looks at logan with puffed cheeks and sad eyes. “you still love mummy, don’t you?”

logan, who’d already been awake and on his phone, turns to his daughter with a bewildered expression. how long was he gone for that his daughter suddenly turned into some old woman stuck in a toddler’s body?

“what?”

her frown grows. “you don’t love mummy?”

“what?” logan throws his head back, putting his phone down. “of course i still love mummy! why would you think otherwise?”

she presses her lips together, squinting her eyes as she approaches logan slowly. “you and mummy have not dropped me off at uncle oscar’s to hang out without me,” she hums, keeping her gaze on logan. “you should hang out with mummy.”

logan hums, pressing his lips together. “soon, lulu. don’t you like spending time with us together at home?”

she climbs on the bed and hunches her back. she sighs exasperatedly and shrugs with her whole body before dropping her back on the bed. “you and mummy don’t even talk to each other.”

she tries probing logan for a confession like she did with you, clearly knowing the transparency that you share from spending everyday with her. logan, however, she’s constantly trying to figure out each time he spends at home with her. not to say that she doesn’t think she’s not close with her dad — because she is — it’s just a different dynamic.

“what if…” when logan continues to stare at her, she sighs softly. she sits up. “can you play tea party with me?”

he furrows his eyebrows, shocked by the sudden change in mood. “sure? but weren’t you going to ask me something?”

she shrugs, now climbing out of the bed. “nope.” she stands on her feet and looks at logan. “tea party?”

“of course!”

suddenly logan finds himself trying to squeeze into a chair that’s clearly too small for him, sipping on imaginary tea. his daughter sits opposite him and the stuffed koala between them. he finds a plastic tiara on his head as they sit in silence for the next minute or so.

a door opens and makes luna perk up and grin at logan, her green eyes piercing into his own. “we have a special guest.”

logan tilts his head. “do we?”

“yes!” luna throws her hands in the air with a giggle, watching you approach them with a soft smile. “mummy is finished with her work! she can join us for tea party now!”

you laugh, merely glancing at logan as you approach their little table. “do you want me to make actual tea, lulu? have you guys been drinking pretend tea this whole time?”

luna shrugs, running from the table to her play kitchen where her little kettle sits on top of the plastic stove. “yes. but i like pretend tea. daddy, though,” she glances at you with a small and playful smile before looking at logan, “maybe he wants big people tea.”

“daddy can make big people tea by himself,” you laugh.

she drops her smile. “but you should ask him.”

you force a smile to your face, stiffly turning over to your husband, hunched over as he plays with the koala’s ears. “do you?” he looks at you. “want big people tea?”

logan shrugs, leaving the koala alone as he hesitantly keeps eye contact with you. “maybe.”

before you could shoot back an answer, something about making it himself, luna perks up and stumbles into you. “i changed my mind, mummy. i want some tea, please.”

you gasp. “i thought you said i was a special guest!”

“oh!” you see the gears shift in luna’s head as she shyly looks over at logan with a shy grin, finger in her mouth. “daddy…”

“okay,” logan mutters, pushing himself off the plastic chair. “i’ll make tea.”

you hold back a laugh when he stands up, the plastic chair stuck around his hips as he struggles to pull it off himself. only then do you notice that luna’s forced him into another one of her pink tutu’s for the tea party.

“hey,” you poke luna’s stomach, prompting a soft giggle from the toddler, “how come only daddy gets the cute accessories?”

she gasps, eyes wide as she darts away from you. she sprints over to the small box in the corner of the room and practically jumps in to dig for something for you. “i’ve got a tiara for you too, mummy!”

she comes back with a couple of accessories while logan’s gone to make your family some tea. you hunch over for luna to put the tiara messily on your head, even giggling as she helps you put some fairy wings on.

logan comes back with the promised tea eventually, juggling a teapot in one hand with three pink little tea cups in the other. a set that logan had found somewhere during one of his races and he couldn’t resist not getting it for luna and her tea parties involving real drinks.

“thank you!” luna perks, smiling up at logan as he takes a seat. “you made tea for mummy too?”

“of course.”

she turns to you. “mummy, what do you–”

“thanks,” you say as you finally take a seat in one of the small chairs, unfortunately, next to logan.

“i brought sugar for your tea.”

you look down at the sugar packets now sitting in front of you on the table as luna pushes away all of her plastic sets of teapots and cups. you feel your chest warm up at the subtle gesture, smiling at him as he sets the little plastic table with everything in his hands. “thank you,” you find yourself whispering as he puts a cup in front of you.

“so lulu,” logan starts, “how has pre-school been?”

you see her green eyes sparkle, excited that logan’s asked about school. she’s got stories upon stories to tell him, starting with the friends she’s made lately and the fact that she’s gotten into her first fight with a friend (they eventually make up).

then she starts rambling about her karting races, giggling about how you never fail to take her every weekend and take her out for dessert afterwards.

luna forces your phone out of your pocket, making you pull pictures out of her in her race suit and pictures of her zooming past you during her races and practice. it forces you and logan closer slightly, and suddenly you realise what luna is doing.

it only took logan turning to you with crinkled eyes, giggling along with you when the picture of luna passed out in the back of the car with her mouth hung open pops up. you’ve been set up by your own toddler, conspiring to ensure that you and logan are making up sooner rather than later.

it’s almost genius. you barely even have the time to think where she’s gotten this sneaky trait from because she starts shaking you to show logan pictures you took of your short trip to your mother’s right before he came home.

“aw, lulu,” logan coos at the picture of her interacting with your parents’ dog, all cuddled up on the couch as she watches tv. “you like mika?”

“like mika?” you snort, “she loves mika. she forced the poor husky to sleep with her the entire 3 days we were there.”

without noticing, luna starts pulling back as you and logan finally find yourselves engaged in conversation about her. she silently takes her koala from the seat next to her, slowly walking over to the couch with her ipad hoping that you don’t notice her.

“and mika was okay with that?” logan laughs, throwing his head back. “she didn’t get mauled by a dog twice her size or something?”

you shake your head in amusement at his statement. “i guess not! mika was so fond of her. probably from the constant belly rubs that luna gave her upon arrival.”

logan hums, resting his chin in his hands, elbows on his knees as he leans into you. “we should get her a dog. someone to keep her company while you’re away for work, you know?”

“logan,” you huff, furrowing your eyebrows, “she’s enough work as it is. an additional mouth to feed would be too much for me.”

he purses his lips together. “she’s been asking for a dog forever though.” you suck in a deep breath, finding yourself ready to explain why your household does not require a dog. as if reading your mind, he waves his hand in the air. “actually, you’re right. we should wait until she’s a bit older.”

you smile at him, thankful that he immediately got where you were going with the conversation. you glance at your daughter, now swinging her feet in the air as she lies on her stomach on the couch, tapping away on her ipad. “by the way,” you whisper, “i think we just got bested by our toddler.”

he giggles along with you, scrunching his nose. “i know. she’s got a future in strategising, don’t you think?”

“definitely. i haven’t been outsmarted in a while until luna started growing up to be a menace.”

he sighs, smiling slightly at you. “i’m sorry for the other night. i didn’t mean to poke at you for your decision-making — i was just shocked. you have it hard enough being home alone with luna all the time. i shouldn’t have questioned you.”

you reach over to grab his hand, squeezing it. “i’m sorry too. i was a tad defensive.”

luna glances over at both of you, grinning to herself before returning her attention to her youtube video. suddenly all is right in the world and she’s counting hours to your announcement that she is being sent to uncle oscar’s house to spend the day so you can hang out by yourself.

@33-81 @darleneslane @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @namgification @localwhoore

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #ls2 #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagiens #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke mab

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n part two! Thank you for everyone who read the first one. So glad some of you liked it so much. 🫧🤍

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“No threats, nothing," Azriel dropped the report down on the table. Rhys had been the one to go meet with Autumn’s high lord. Bringing back the reports of everything that had been happening the past three days. “Eris said that everyone still thinks she’s there," Rhys stated. They planned on spinning a lie about you visiting an old relative, but it was better if the people who had inflicted the first attack would be misled about your true location.

“This could have been a one-time thing," Cassian hums, flipping through the report himself. “Or someone is waiting for the right moment," Rhys links his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “Why her?”, Cassian frowns. Yeah, Azriel asked that too at first. You didn’t seem to be magically gifted. There was nothing special about you, as far as he was aware. “Eris said she’s a weak link," the spymaster muttered.

“They’re close? That would explain things," and Cassian was right there. Love might be the worst weapon to have. Once, it slipped into the wrong hands. Azriel let out a sigh.

“Considering how he delivered the news, he loves her a lot. I believe, besides Lucien, she’s the closest to him." If he was being truthful, he hadn’t given it much thought. Here in Velaris, he could leave you on your own devices for the most part, at least. He didn’t need to trail after you. There was no need. Azriel had eyes almost everywhere.

“We’ll figure something out. I will ask around to see if something is stirring." Rhys leans back, his eyes now fixed on Azriel, “How are you?”. Azriel tries to hold back to not roll his eyes. “I’ve been fine for two weeks ago." And he was. Yes, his left side still hurt. The scar was deep and rather long. Rapping around his ribcage. Not to mention that he had pulled the stitches out way too many times. “Don’t start this," Rhys says bluntly.

“I could be up at the camps doing what I do best," Azriel points out. Itching to pick this topic back up. “Dying in the snow?"—that was a straight blow from his brother. Rhys hadn’t been able to say it out loud for the first couple of weeks. The thought of Azriel dying had messed with his head. “I said no, so it’s a no. Plus, you have a new responsibility," Rhys states firmly, and Azriel knows that there is no use in nagging him any further. “Counting days till she’s out of my sight," he mutters beneath his breath, standing up to leave. He just forgot to mean the words he spoke.

Velaris was different from what you had imagined it to be. In a good way, but it still wasn’t home. The ever-green trees almost bugged you. It was all too alive. Too bright. You missed the deep oranges. The crunching of the leaves beneath your feet. Rhys tried to be a caring host by giving you an autumn-themed room, but that only left a bitter taste in your mouth. So even if you had been advised by their healer to keep all weight off your swollen ankle for a while, you still found yourself, pulling away the decorations and shoving away the autumn theme blankets, the little trinkets.

You tried to keep out of everyone’s hair. Choosing to take your food into your room. But the four walls were starting to drive you mad. You had tasted freedom, and you didn’t want to be back there. Locked up. Hidden. Forgotten. So when your eyes landed on the two males sparing in the front yard, you, of course, first observed them from your window. Watching through the curtains and then pushing back.

“You should be resting your leg," Azriel hadn’t even turned to face you when his voice found you. A slight smirk tugging at your lips. He had been avoiding you. Or maybe you were too full of yourself. Maybe he was just busy. There was no requirement for him to be at your side twenty-four-seven.

“You’re a shit bodyguard if you didn’t know that I've been doing just that for the past three days," you muse, stepping closer to the racks of weapons that line their training ground. Fingers l brushing over a set of onyx black daggers. “Madja said at least a couple of weeks," Azriel points out, reaching to rewrap his knuckles. “And I said that I'm bored, and now we are here," you purr, lifting one of the daggers, feeling out the weight as you twist your wrist. You could feel Azriel’s eyes. Watching you. Following your every move.

“Or you just wanted a closer look at this“, the male next to him, who you had come to learn was Cassian, smirks, gesturing to his bare chest. Abs glistening with sweat. Yeah, the view wasn’t bad. Autumn males, at least the ones you know, didn’t compare. “And I thought this one was full of himself." You hooked your thumb at Azriel, rolling your eyes.

He shakes his head, “Would it hurt you to say my name?”, "Yes, Mr. Tree, trunk up my ass." You give him the most obnoxious smile you could master. Earning a deep growl from the spymaster in return. Until your eyes landed on the wooden bow, neatly placed on the ground by the buckets of water. “I want to shoot arrows," you mutter, pointing to the weapon, making Azriel’s gaze follow suit.

He let out a small snort, “Have you ever held a bow in your delicate hands?”. That prick. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh, news flash, he is also a sexist,” you hiss. Rounding his side to reach for the arrows. “I just don’t want you falling and tripping once again, princess," he teases in an almost mocking tone. You step closer to him. You doubt that he finds you intimidating, considering that you need to look up to even meet his gaze. But your face stays ice cold as you point to the bow, “Give it to me." He doesn’t move at first. As if on purpose. Giving you extra time to look at him. His face. There is a light scar over his right eyebrow. It’s not all that visible. Unless you take your time to… but, your little daydream is cut short by a bow being shoved at your chest. You nearly lose your footing. And just like that, you are snapped out of your daze.

“Don’t start crying when you miss," Azriel says, too full of himself as always. Leaning on the side beam like a smug, fucking cat. Too bad you grew up among five arrogant males. Six if you include that sadist of a father. That’s enough for the amber to catch fire deep within your chest. You line the arrow up. Taking a deep breath. Eyes falling to the target at the edge of the field ahead. And then it’s muscle memory as you let it loose. The first one hit the bull's eye. A satisfied smile speeds on your face as you reach for the second and third. You’re petty like that. Not in the mood to give Azriel a chance to call it fool’s luck.

A loud chuckle fills your ears, and then someone is nudging your shoulder. “She handed you your ass on a silver plate, brother." Cassian’s laughter booms, and you can’t help but match his grin. “Choke on the dust," you muse, flipping him off as you twist away from him. But Azriel is quick as always, grasping your elbow as he spin you back. “Know your place," he says through gritted teeth. Nostrils flaring.

“Maybe you should show me my place," you mutter, crossing an x on his chest. You yank your hand from his grip, glancing at Cassian, “Put the dog on the leash." Azriel curses, making Cassian snort, before the general starts barking, moving to the side to tackle his brother. You shake your head, continuing to walk away. Only catching a faint warning from Azriel, “Don’t fucking encourage it.”

Azriel chose to leave you alone for the rest of the day. Yet he could deny it all he wanted, but the shots were clean. Not to mention that he was almost relieved that you had left your room. A burden or not, he didn’t want you just rotting between the four walls. So he’s not all that surprised when your figure steps out onto the balcony. A lantern in your hand. One that you carefully place on the ledge before placing your hand on the stones. Stepping on your tiptoes, leaning to look over the edge.

"Snooping", the sudden sound of his voice makes you jump, your elbow hitting the lantern and pushing it over the edge. “You’re insane. Absolute sociopath," you gasp, hand on your chest as you try to wipe the threat from your face.

“You’re pathetic if that made you scared," Azriel shrugs, stepping out for the shadows. It wasn’t pathetic. He knew that. If he didn’t want to be seen, no one would see him. So blaming this on you was lame, but he could excuse it. For now. “You’re a creep," you hiss, leaning over the edge to look for the broken glass, now scattered on the ground. “Who sits in the dark like that?”, you ask, shaking your head and pulling your ginger hair over to one side. Fidgeting with the ends. That’s a new habit, Azriel thinks to himself, one he hadn’t yet observed.

You just shake your head once you don’t receive an answer from him. Eyes darting up the sky. It’s almost pitch black. The last traces of orange and deep purple are coloring the very edges of the horizon. “The sky is beautiful here as well," you breathe out. Not sure why. It felt stupid to get sentimental with that crazy man behind you. “It is," Azriel admits, forcing his eyes from your frame to lift to the sky. But the stars only manage to hold his attention for so long. Before they glance right back down at you, Azriel can’t tell from your face, but he feels the wave of sadness crashing into his chest.

And not even a heartbeat later you speak up again. “I usually take walks with the dogs in the evening, so... old habits die hard. I feel the itch." It’s an almost bitter chuckle that slips past your lips as you speak. Azriel walks close to the railing. “I feel the same if I don’t get to work late at night," he’s not sure why he’s even saying that. Admitting something that you don’t need to know. Or probably care to know. Your nose screeches up. “That’s a weird thing to like," you mutter. Azriel rolls his eyes, “Stomping through the woods isn’t any better.”

The breeze picks up. Chasing the last bits of warmth away. Making you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, but you don’t step back. Don’t move to head inside. “So, you’re a working late and sleep-in type of guy," you mutter. Azriel realizes it then. You’re here because you don’t want to be alone. Force-pushing the conversation to keep someone else in your company. Flashes of the basement flicker through his mind.

“No, I wake up early," he answers, a heartbeat too late, and yet you’re still nodding along. “So, no sleep type of guy," you mutter beneath your breath. The darkness is now fully draping over you two. Hiding you both from the world. “And you’re a talk just to listen to yourself speak type of girl," Azriel points out, making you huff. “And here, I thought we were having a moment." He watches as you turn around, shaking your head. “Jumping to conclusions kind of girl too," he says firmly, and this time it’s enough to drag a little chuckle from your lips as your head falls back ever so slightly.

But the distant pain doesn’t leave your eyes when you glance back at him. “Did Eris say anything by any chance?”, you mutter. A part of Azriel considers lying. Twisting the truth. A white lie. But he can’t bring himself to. Too many people were already keeping you in the dark, so he mutters a quiet, "No." Watching as you nod way too eagerly at his answer, “Of course, delighted to get rid of the troublemaker," there was that pained smile at the end as you finally chose to spread the distance between you two. “Lucien is coming tomorrow, though," Azriel points out, your tense shoulders easing ever so slightly. You don’t say anything as you reach for the glass door.

“Are you going to sleep?”, Azriel asks, almost cringing himself out. What was this sound of desperation? He didn’t fucking care what you did. “Not yet. I will walk in the garden for a bit." You gesture to the fields wrapping around the house. Azriel nods firmly, “Keep to the upper parts; don’t go past the rose garden if you get by the white... ”, “Okay, okay, mother... Tie me to your chair and watch me wilt away while you’re at it," you huff, your lips thinning into a tight line. “I’ll finish some work and come to do a room sweep," the spymaster says in an almost demanding manner. You simply raise your hand to your forehead, saluting him with a quiet “Yes, sir," before disappearing into the house.

It took Azriel way longer to get through his usual routine. He liked his office tidy for his morning working session. So at night, even if he was tired to his bones, he made the effort to sort through every pile of documents. Arrange them neatly. When he finally made it up to the top floor, where your room was located, it was well past midnight. Azriel knew that he could just drop it. He didn’t have to show up and check the room. Yet he still stood there right by your door.

"Princess," he knocked gently, not really in the mood to startle you once again tonight. You might be small and fierce, but everyone has a limit. When no response follows, he tries again: "Yn, it’s Azriel, can I come in?”, but still nothing. He could just walk in, but you weren’t a prisoner per se. “This is your last warning," he says, waiting for a heartbeat before pushing onto the handle.

It was dead quiet in the room. He would have concluded that you might not have returned yet if not for the mess that your bed was. He frowns slightly. Following the line of blankets that lead to the fireplace. And here you are. Curled by the fire, all the blankets dragged from the bed. Piles of books scattered all around you. He didn’t know that you had gone to the library. Or maybe this was Nesta’s doing. In that case, he didn’t wish to find out what was written in them. Azriel scannes the room. His eyes fell on the pens and pencils on the table. A sketchbook. A strange feeling kindled in Azriel’s chest. He has a pad just like that. Kept it in his leathers. So if he feels the urge or if something captures his attention begging to be sketched, he could easily do so.

Azriel steps closer, trying not to leave evidence of looking through your stuff. It makes him uneasy just how close you are to the fireplace, but then. Flame calls to flame. He knows that he should turn away. Just leave you be. There’s no danger here. He knows it. But he finds himself stepping forward, kneeling by your body. He hasn’t seen you so peacefully innocent before. He only knew the frowning, tantrum-throwing princess.

Tilting his head to the side, he tries to drink your features in. You were a Vanserra. The resemblance to Eris and Lucien was there. But a much softer version. With freckles all over your face. Long eyelashes. Your hair was more ginger than fire-red. But then his gaze halted. Your left shoulder was bare. The very top of your breast... a scar. It was a scare that made him halt. On your collarbone. And then two lines going beneath your shirt. Azriel’s scowl only deepened at the sight of one more white line at the side of your throat. “What did they do to you?", he mutters quietly. But it’s enough to make your eyes snap open as you jolt up. And once again, there’s a dagger aimed at Azriel’s throat, this time from the side. The very tip pressing into his flesh.

“What the fuck?", you huff, lowering your hand. “That’s a much better aim. You’re learning fast, princess." Azriel tries to keep his face cool as he steps back. Standing tall. “Why are you here standing over me like that?”, you scowl, pulling the blanket tighter over your shoulders.

“I just came to check the room," Azriel says, moving his gaze to the window. Anything was better now than looking into your burning eyes. “And decided that you can just let yourself in," you say, pushing to stand up. “You were on the floor by the fire; who knows, maybe you were lying there dead?", Azriel bits back, gesturing at the mess you had created. It was embarrassing that he had seen it. No one was supposed to see it. A bitter laugh slips past your lips, “You wish that would be...", and in a blink of an eye, he is there. Inches away from you. Hand reaching for your hair. No doubt he had thought about just yanking it back but decided against it at the last minute.

“Don’t finish that," he says, opting for a warning finger once more. As if he’s scolding a child. “Or what?", you flash your teeth at him. Pretending to bite the very tip of his finger. “You love picking fights, huh?", he straightens, smothering his hair back. The slight curls falling over his forehead. “You love changing the subject, huh?”, you mock back in the same tone. “You might just be one of the most frustrating things that came out of autumn," and you can see that he probably didn’t even mean to say it out loud. But he did. And now you two were standing in the aftermath of it. Your hands curling into fists. “Thing...", you smile at him, “How sweet of you; ladies probably drop their pants for that," and here it was that cold, cold look on your face. "Out," you hiss, now pointing Azriel to the door. Dismissing him.

The next morning is rather awkward. Azriel finds you in the sunroom of the house. Your legs tugged beneath you. You don’t lift your head, and he says nothing. Taking his usual spot by the window to drink his coffee. It unsettles him. The silence. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s some creepy stalker. Maybe you both should settle the ground rules. Talk about the situation. But once he finally finds the courage to open his mouth, the door opens. A gasp slips past your lips as you jump up, rushing to the male standing in the doorway.

"Luci," you breathe, wrapping your arms around your brother’s neck. The warmth he carried seeping into your body. “My little flicker," he mutters against your hair, leaving a couple of kisses on the side of your head. "Azriel," Lucien nods in acknowledgment. Azriel follows his movement. “I’ve got it from here”, Luci smiles at the spymaster, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“What’s going on?”, you mutter against his chest, refusing to let go. “What did Eris say?”, your brother asks, and it’s enough to make you pull back. “I don’t give a fuck about what he said," you grunt. “I want to know what you know," you demand. You have a full right to. Lucien holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a tired sigh, “We will be heading back for a bit." You shake your head, turning away from him.

“I will tell you as soon as I can, I promise," he says as he steps forward, holding you by your shoulder as he lowers his forehead to lean against you.“Why are we going back?” It’s a whisper, but blood runs thicker than water. And you need to stick together, as you always did. Even if you still don’t understand anything, “There is a public outing. He needs us by his side." That makes you chuckle, “I also needed him by my side in case anyone was wondering.”.

"Yn," Lucien sighs, but you shake your head. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for him." It’s selfish, you know that. But they had sworn to protect you, and this feels like the opposite of it. “He’s figuring this out too; be kind," Lucien mumbles, pulling your hands into his and squeezing them. “Come on, you’ll get to watch the joy on Azriel’s face when I tell him that he’ll have to spend a couple of nights in autumn," he nudges you, making you smile ever so slightly, “Now that I can get behind”.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @emryb

#azriel acotar imagine #azriel x oc #eris x azriel #azriel x you #azriel imagien #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x oc #lucien vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you

[itsbuckytm]

Envy and Passion (Pt. 2) / Coriolanus Snow.

summary : this moving forward, the romantic affair of Coriolanus and you began to blossomed ever seen its first meet. with a envy for lust and power, snow is relcontless to make you officially his. with a gesture not so normal, and to perhaps have your father finally accept the two love bird's relationship.

read part one first!! : part one

english isn't my first language, so i excuse for small typo or error mistakes. ps : please don't copy my work or use it without proper credit! thank you.

Your involvement with Coriolanus Snow persisted, concealed from your father who remained oblivious to the situation. Fortunately, Snow chose to invest a significant amount of time with you in the laboratory. This arrangement included the opportunity to assist him directly under the guidance of Dr. Gaul herself. Surprisingly, it never posed a challenge for either of you. Whenever Snow felt a desire or yearned to intertwine his warm fingers with your cold skin, he didn't hesitate to express it openly, especially when you pleaded with him to do so. 

"Speak it aloud." He would insist, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the stark contrast of your dark pupils. He found this juxtaposition oddly unsettling yet captivating, especially as you exuded confidence despite the complete reversal of your family's name. Which contrasted oddly well, when you presented yourself before Snow, adopting a submissive demeanor, he ensured not to overlook it. "Say that you desire me." He commanded, and in that instant, his voice deepened. The soft gaze that he had employed earlier to pause shifted into something more intense, with his eyebrows furrowing, expressing a mix of dignity, pride, and a hunger solely for you.

Every time Snow expressed his feelings and unwavering commitment, a warmth would spread across your cheeks. "I desire you, Snow." You confessed, feeling palpitations resonating throughout your entire body, experiencing emotions previously unfamiliar to you. Despite your father's strict measures to ensure you remained free from romantic entanglements, the fear of him discovering your involvement with Snow loomed over you. Uttering Snow's name could potentially lead to punishment for both of you. However, in the present moment, neither of you cared about the potential consequences, dismissing any concerns about possible repercussions.  

Upon your confession and Snow's acceptance of your words, he reveled in the opportunity to explore every inch of your skin visible to his eyes alone. Your gentle touch on his blouse, revealing a glimpse of his chest, was met with amusement as you feigned clumsiness, as if he hadn't witnessed it before. Chuckling at your playful act, he remarked. "You know, if you were eager to see me shirtless, you could have asked from the very beginning." Despite the confidence instilled by your father, your shyness intrigued Snow. It fascinated him to witness a strong, independent woman like yourself, who, despite her confidence, found herself pleading at his mercy. And he wasn't complaining one bit. 

"All I want is to wait for the perfect moment." Was your simple declaration. Yet, Snow, with his deceptive and unconvincing response to your second confession, couldn't help but see through the charade. He knew all too well that it wasn’t just a matter of time. This realization felt somewhat absurd to him, considering that from the very start of your love affair, it was you who ensured that your skin was exposed. This time around, despite the temptation to witness another captivating display, he found himself yearning for you to admire him, to experience the same emotions he felt whenever your eyes met his. “How about we change a little bit?” 

"Change?" Your brows furrowed this time, a mix of confusion, anticipation, and eagerness, curious about what Snow had in store. After all, Snow was known for his penchant for surprises. It wasn't a coincidence that both of you were selected as Dr. Gaul's personally chosen students for her mentoring. Dr. Gaul was well aware of your relationship, and if it served to prolong the Hunger Games, she had a keen understanding of how to maintain loyalty between you and Snow. Whether the connection was romantic or not mattered little to her; as long as the two of you were working and following orders, Dr. Gaul was pleased. 

Snow reached for your fingers, and as they entwined with his, he motioned for you to sit on his lap. You complied effortlessly, well aware that whenever Snow needed a break from paperwork while maintaining focus, a call for you to be on his lap was a common occurrence. It served as a distraction, allowing him to immerse himself in the scent of your presence. Despite his internal struggle to control his obsession and resist the urge to engage in more intimate activities right there on his desk, the desire to hear your submissive murmurings and witness your eyes fixated on him alone was always tempting. However, today presented a deviation from the norm. As you settled onto his lap, his back comfortably resting against the chair, his fingers intertwined with yours, prompting to unbutton his blouse, you could only utter. "Oh..." In disbelief at his prompt actions. 

"Oops, I guess a few buttons slipped," Snow playfully admitted, revealing the subtle nature of his game. While he made it seem like his own oversight, the fact that your fingers remained intertwined with his suggested that he was not entirely innocent. It conveyed that, even if he were eager to take the blame, you were not hesitant to make his chest slightly visible. However, for Snow, it wasn't merely about a brief glimpse of his chest. He intended to shed everything – from blouse to coat – without hesitation, relishing the opportunity to hear the gasps and disapproval echoing from your own father.

A blush tinted your features, the same blush that had adorned your face during the reaping ceremony. It was a blush Snow relished, a sign that he was gaining complete control over you. Without hesitation, he took it upon himself to unbutton his entire blouse with a single hand. "It's getting a little hot, isn't it?" He casually remarked, using it as an excuse and subtly suggesting you might want to do the same if it pleased you. However, you resisted the urge to swiftly follow suit, observing as Snow confidently removed both his blouse and coat in one fluid motion. As you could’ve sworn to feel your teeth sinking the bottom of your lip. The tension between the two of you became apparent now. He wanted you. And you wanted him. 

Before he proceeded, his fingers gently disentangled from yours, trailing along your thighs as your short skirt revealed more skin, much to his satisfaction. He couldn't resist brushing it against your lips, a desire he had been suppressing since he first laid eyes on you that morning. With genuine affection, he admired the skirt he loved so much, especially paired with the Academy's uniform blouse you had deliberately made a little looser this time. He took notice when he observed your cleavage being more pronounced that very same day. 

"You can't fathom how much I've yearned to taste you. Don't pretend to be innocent, Princess. It's our little game, you know." Our Little Game. He declared, and the words echoed in your mind. However, in the midst of numerous affairs and the expression of feelings, the certainty of whether he genuinely meant it, whether his love for you was real, or if uttering your name was merely a distraction to maintain his sanity, became increasingly elusive. "Then, demonstrate your love for me.” You challenged. Without a moment's hesitation, your words caught him off guard, almost offended. "After everything I've done for you?" He countered.

You felt his lips brushed against yours, temptation of not wanting to kiss you on the spot. While you challenged him such deal, he became almost too offended by your question. Was it even obvious? Snow became a little persistent, and with his piercing blue eyes never leaving it’s gaze now his eyes began darker. Darker as his gaze became aware of his need for you. A need of you becoming his officially. And today, it was one of the few occasions he could at least do. “I will.” 

His fingers delicately cradled your face, exhibiting a hunger to explore and savor every inch of your skin exclusively reserved for him. Starting with your lips, he pressed his plump lips against yours, reveling in the intoxicating taste of your cherry balm that drove him to the brink of insanity. This obsession was so profound that whenever he encountered a blossoming Cherry Tree, it inevitably reminded him of you. Not stopping there, he proceeded to confidently grip your backside, causing your loose skirt to flutter up. The chill from the brisk lab air made you flinch in response to the sudden exposure.  

"Mine. Mine." His voice grew rougher, a tone that required a certain adaptation on your part. Your head tilted backward as you felt his lips trail down the crook of your neck, an area he longed to adorn with endless pampering and marks that, at least, could be concealed. Today, however, he made sure they were visible, intended to stoke the fires of your father's entire disdain. "Mine until the break of dawn." He declared, feeling the friction between cloth and underwear intensify, causing his arousal to surge. Snow could no longer contain himself when your soft fingers journeyed from his immaculate chest to the zipper of his pants. In a mere second, as you unzipped them, you teasingly grasped his now fully erect member and gently stroked it, bringing him undeniable pleasure. 

"If you truly mean it." You approached him with a hint of seduction, taking control of the situation. In this game of chess, Snow had anticipated that one day the tables would turn, and today seemed to be that day. "Make love to me like you've never done before. Make me moan until the sounds echo through the entire lab, risking the chance of getting caught." To Snow's surprise, he tilted his head upon hearing your bold words, realizing that the desire you expressed mirrored his own. This opportunity was rare, the only time both of you could be together. If it wasn't for your father's protection; you would feel ashamed if he were to catch a glimpse of the two of you right now. Yet, love has a way of blinding reason. 

“And make your father know, to who you belong to. Princess.” He lingered with a loving and lust of wanted to fuck you. This time although he enjoyed a quickie, he wanted to make it an experience for you, whether it was sloppy or messy. It did not mattered for the both of you, as long as Snow showed and declared his entire love for you. It was all it mattered. 

After the surprisingly enjoyable encounter, you suddenly realized the time and the fact that you had completely forgotten about a meeting with Dr. Gaul and your father regarding the Hunger Games. You began to panic. "Shit, I'm going to be late!" You exclaimed, and Snow found it oddly cute, especially since you rarely used such language in public. "Don't forget this." Even though Snow was well aware of what he was doing, you hastily grabbed anything resembling a uniform. As long as you had your skirt back on, along with the coat and blouse, it should be enough to avoid arousing suspicion. Thankfully, with your hair strategically covering the hickeys, you managed to arrive late to the meeting, running at full speed without raising any eyebrows.

Upon finally arriving, you seized the chance to catch your breath, fortunate that your father and everyone else attending the meeting were engrossed in Dr. Gaul's presentation. However, upon laying eyes on you, she couldn't help but voice concern about your uniform. "Y/N, my dear. What is this monstrosity?" Swiftly, your father's gaze shifted to you, taking note of the alteration in your uniform. The blouse, that delicately hugging your curves, now appeared slightly larger, evident in your fingers poking through its sleeves. It became glaringly obvious that it wasn't yours but Snow's. You found yourself in a deeper mess. Vaguely recalling seeing Snow casually blending his blouse with yours before leaving, you realized it was another way for him to mark you as his own—a subtle yet effective gesture, particularly if it meant provoking your father into a boiling rage. 

"And where might Snow be? He was supposed to be invited to this meeting as well," Dr. Gaul expressed her suspicion. Although you attempted to ignore your father's disapproving gaze, well aware of his concerns and mentoring about his feelings regarding Snow, you were preoccupied by Snow's unexpected actions. You weren't certain if he was indeed coming or intentionally delaying his arrival to avoid raising suspicion, only to later excuse himself for being late and have Dr. Gaul overlook his absence. “I didn’t know Snow was invited for today’s meeting…” Was all you could say, which wasn’t entirely false. 

Dismissing her concern for Snow, she accepted your response. Despite being already aware of the possible relationship between the two of you, she simply smiled at you and suggested you join the audience. As you took a seat next to your father, he noticed your arrival. Quite annoyed at least. “Next time, try to cover the marks in your neck. For the love of god, Y/N.” Shit, your father had spot Snow’s hickeys. If it wasn’t to make it worse even noticed the slight change in your cheeks as it was still showing a flushed and pink shade from the climax you had encountered prior with Snow. Instead to not disrupt any further you obliged and apologize like the good daughter you were meant to be. “It will never happen again, I promise.” But did you? 

As anticipated, Snow arrived late. Fortunately, he had the foresight to bring an extra blouse, fully intending to have you wear one of his. The expression on your father's face when he noticed the unconventional attire was exactly what Snow had anticipated. Doing his best to catch his breath after rushing to the meeting, he excused himself, saying, "Sorry, I am late." Dr. Gaul acknowledged his presence and gestured for him to sit next to you. A proud smile adorned Snow's face as he witnessed the exact expression he had expected from your father.

“Loving the uniform, sweetheart.” He casually said, whispering to your ear this time before quickly gaining his attention back to him but also making sure that you were aware of his meschibiosu little guess. 

"Shut up, Snow." He hoped to hear from you as you were about to speak up. Instead, it was your father's voice that uttered those words upon realizing that it wasn't, in fact, your uniform all this time but Snow's. Anticipating a response from you after your father's remark, Snow waited, but instead, Casca continued. "Just be a little more secretive next time." 

To your surprise, you glanced over at your father, intending to defend yourself. However, a mere gaze from him conveyed the unspoken message that if you attempted to object, he would ensure an end to the relationship. Despite his unwillingness to witness his daughter's unhappiness due to her father's unwarranted bias against the Snow family, he held on to the hope that, at the very least, Coriolanus Snow wasn't akin to his own father. Or... was your father not entirely wrong?

"We will." 

Snow's voice lingered in the crook of your neck, indicating his satisfaction with your father's newfound approval of the relationship. Finally, he felt unburdened, no longer afraid to proudly show the world that you were his and his alone.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x y/n #president snow #coryo #president snow x reader #hunger games x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus imagines #coriolanus snow imagiens #hunger games imagines

[fakemichaelsheen]

-the bookshop-

crowley: *lounging in a chair*

aziraphale, watching him, casually: nina seems to think you're in love with someone

crowley, glances at him: oh *pauses* why?

aziraphale, raises an eyebrow: so it's true?

crowley, splutters: what? no! *waves a hand* you know what humans are like. making stuff up

aziraphale, doubtful: she seems quite convinced

crowley, rolls his eyes: yeah, well, you know me better *holds his breath* what do you think?

aziraphale: *looks at him*

crowley: *waiting*

aziraphale, sighs: I can't feel anything

crowley, relieved: well, there you are, then. if you can't feel it, I can't be in love with anyone, can I?

aziraphale, smiles briefly: I suppose not

crowley: exactly

crowley & aziraphale: ...

crowley & aziraphale: *both miserable*

#imagien if they had communication skills that good... #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens #good omens 2 #muriel: hello mr fell / az: hello muriel. what brings you here today? / muriel: nothing really. I just love it here. it's so warm and cosy #az happy: oh. well that's- / muriel chuckles: you must really love your books mr fell. I haven't felt a love like this anywhere else / az: #ineffable chatfics

[jestroer]

The silly. The goofy.

#this is kind of a redraw from the thing #if you know you know #they are silly #scar in a dress my beloved #i should draw impulse more often #ill go to sleep now that i drew the silly #impulsesv #goodtimeswithscar #hermitcraft #impscar #not intended as ship but you can see however you want #court jester's art #hermits in dresses! #court jester's dress moment #im literally so fricking sleepy man you cant imagien

[cursedzucchini]

Prompt/idea #6

Y'all what if when Danny's not feeling that good (is very injured/didn't eat anything/sleep deprived) he instead of fainting just... Turns into his 14 yo self.

That wasn't such a problem at the begginjng bc he was short king and well, he didn't change that much.

But now? When he's in college (basically always on the verge of fainting from exhaustion/hunger/dehydration/whatever unholy thing he consumed to stay awake and functioning) in Gotham? When he's 24, and yeah, maybe he didn't grow that much in height, but he lost the baby fat. His face didn't look so hopeful, and innocent and he gained quite few scars.

So yeah, changing into his 14yo self wasn't the greatest by itself. But add the trauma Danny has when looking at himself in the mirror, and overall being in the wrong body (thinking about what younger him didn't know, like u can add angst Abt canon stuff, like Vlad was a fucking creep, pariah dark, or add vivisection and Dani dying or whatever).

So Danny was being extra careful about taking care of himself (he thought, like a liar). And maybe that day he forgot breakfast, lost his pocket money, his card declined, he couldn't sleep because of reccuring nightmares and the only edible (that's questionable tho) thing in his bag was some somehow wrong ectoplasm he stole from some guy few weeks ago (and Danny needed to ask the him where tf did he manage to find such a disgusting ecto. Like not even his parents manage to fuck it up that badly).

So when on his way home, some fucking asshole jumped him, of course he was going to freak the fuck out.

...if knocking the guy out counts as freaking out. And showing some of his more ghostly features out (read show the asshole the indescribable horrors of balancing life and death for eternity and no time at all).

And that somehow tipped Danny over the top. So now he's sitting there, in his now way too big clothes next to the knocked out (hopefully) clown, drawing dumb pictures on his face, waiting for Jazz to pick him up and maybe help him dispose of the body.

(bonus points if the batfam saw this go down and are now so fucking confused how tf did some twink™ knocked out the fucking joker in one punch, and than transformed into a fuckibg child????? B, no, put the adoption papers down-!)

(bonus bonus points if 14 yo Danny looks exactly like 14yo Jason, and they (especially Jason) just see young Jason sitting next to dead? Joker w a crowbar, drawing dicks on his face)

(also the reason why Danny doesn't know who joker is, is bc every time someone started talking Abt joker or the clown he assumed he was something like batman, and wasn't interested in learning anything Abt anything clown themed)

#yknow arkham doesnt sound that bad #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc writing prompt #danny fenton #dc #jason todd #yall this is such a fun idea #it hit me like a truck #i fucking love it lmao #batfam #yo imagien the trauma tho #liek seeing ur young self surviving what you died to #i think jason would have very strong reaction #probably positive like oh thank fuck i didnt hace to fijd his dead body #oh also the yuck ectoplasm was jasons #danny was tired and he felt weird ecto sending stressed signals #he thought it was just some poir shade #so he jsut...... #took it #jason was very confused #oh also i meant this like instead of when in great danger turning into core #danny turns into his 14 yo self #i imagine joker doesnt remember danny or what even happened but when he sees him (or feels him) he just goes #i feel like bats r in this trying to find danny really hard and he doesnt know #yet still manages to evade them #aight enough tags good bye thanks for reading

[anemonet]

Uh...We win these?

#technoblade #mcytblr sexymen poll #philza #mcyt #mcytblr sexymen #listen hes not a sexyman but i love my boy and he should win everything. #guys i was so ready fro scar to win everythign and then techno appears? #its cruel #thisis cruel #im crying #also i can only imagien techno sayings its kinda cringe chat #hmnmnmn #i miss one of us #anyhwo good luck to scar!!! #also anyoen wnts soem random lizzieshadow lady cat drawings? #askign fro a friend #!! #my art

[smol-dragon]

Frank loved you.

In his own weird way, the man was head over heels, enraptured by you and everything you did without ever realizing it. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't help it! You had just managed to catch his attention, was he really to blame for the escalation of his feelings each trial with you brought? How every taunt had begun to become more flirtatious, how your chases felt more playful than threatening. He knew that you knew too, why else would you stop after you threw a pallet down over his head to blow kisses at him? Why else would you waste time you could've been running just to laugh in his face?

You had to be doing this intentionally, making the man's heart ache in ways it hasn't since before the Fog. You were trying to throw him off of his game, surely! You had to have been, why else would you tease him so relentlessly?

At first he had tried to reason that you did this with everyone, that the other members of the Legion would reassure him that this was just your usual behavior, but he was surprised to learn you weren't. You treated everyone else like a regular killer, you didn't even spare them a second glance. He didn't know whether this fact pissed him off or made him happy to know what the both of you had was special.

He wasn't sure what to make of it, wasn't sure if it was just something you would do until you got bored, but he decided he'd play along for as long as you did. He'd never speak upon whatever weird arrangement between the two of you, fearing for its end otherwise, but he would allow you luxuries no one else saw.

If he cornered you, he wouldn't kill you like a lamb thrown to the wolves. He wouldn't brutalize you or make you suffer as you died; hell, he'd even give you the hatch sometimes if you seemed too down in the dumps. He would caress you and hold you close to him, breath you in and cling to you like a lifeline he never knew he needed. You saw Frank for the person he once was, a man barely holding himself together and trying to deal with the fucked up cards he was dealt. A man that craved familiarity, a man that wanted to be loved.

Even if he never took his mask off around you, he did everything he could to make you feel special. Even if it was simple acts within trials, he'd do them- when it was just the two of you, of course.

He would never say those three special words, but you knew. You knew that he loved you, in his own weird way, in a way that only a killer could. Never enough to stop the cycle, but always enough to make sure it was painless. You were both condemned, the least he could do was make the cycle of hell a little more enjoyable; however brief that was.

#frank morrison x reader #x reader #frank morrison #dead by daylight #frank morrison imagines #dbd imagines #dead by daylight imagiens #the legion imagines #the legion #dead by daylight x reader #one shot #theta writes

[clownwry]

I bought this cameo like more than a year ago and i still die every time I hear it (dialogue credit to @ohmaerieme APPLAUD LOUDER)

#note that i did not fuckgign TELL HIM TO SAY MY NAME #imagiene my shock when it starts out sayigng my name i ljeke. crumpled into a ball #sofia the first #cedric the sorcerer #princess sofia #PR*SH*P DNI

[sleepdeprivedvigilante]

I am in desperate need of a Spiderman/Batman crossover fic (Based on Dark matter by mysterycyclone) but instead of Tim and Duke being his main friends or dick and Jaso finding him on the Secidn chapter, I need one where he goes to gotham academy with damian, maybe Jon and maps or who knows, I mean Damian is 14-15 in comics rn? (depending) and Peter could be 15-16, while Duke is 2 or 3 years older than them both, so maybe they're in gotham prep and stuff.

Like:

Damian, got told to interact with his peers, seeing Peter as the most competent inteligent-wise: Your academic achievements are not as dumb as the rest of our peers.

Peter slightly freaked out but curious: Thanks I guess?

Damian: *nods* I'm glad to FIDN someoene smart here.

After a while of being friends and relaxing more, this trio of idiots

Peter: Working on this is goign to make me go insane- *bangs head against notebook, Witha concussion, and sleep deprived*

Duke: Man need any help? Maybe if you got some rest by the manor-

Damian: You woudlnt have such a headache if you Didn't bang your head agaidnt the wall parker. But go on, it's a least slightly amusing.

Peter:*slightly joking* Hey man fuck you-

#I'd write it but I'm not good for that right now #Damian wayne and Peter parker #Duke thomas #Peter parker #damian is a little shit #Sleep deprived peter parker #Inspired by Dark matter by mysterycyclone #Dark matter by mysterycyclone #Or spiderhead #Emmacortana #Mysterycyclone #Spiderman and batman crossover #Wed still get all the nightwing friendship with Peter and heck maybe the felicia friendship but it'd be like this #chaos #And Peter parker on his own is a little shit now imagien the chaos with Duke and damian #And they struggle to eg thin to the manor in mroe blunt manners #Please somebody help me #batfam #batkids #bruce wayne #funny

[his-lune]

☾ Magnetic Pull | Todoroki Shouto ☽

A/N: Idk if I like this but here it is 😭 if you'd like a second part to this, please let me know 🩷 requests are open, but please check out the requirements before requesting. Happy reading!

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Fem Reader

Word Count: 870

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of.

Shouto’s eyebrows were furrowed, looking deep in thought as he stared at his desk. The noises around him were blocked out as he thought about only one thing: you. He was so lost in his mind, that he didn’t even notice Izuku repeatedly calling his name. 

“-roki! Todoroki!” Izuku’s voice paired with his hand waving finally broke Shouto out of his thoughts. The half-red half-white haired male trailed his gaze to where you were standing with Momo and Mina.

“I can’t keep myself away from her, and I always have her on my mind,” Shouto mumbled to Izuku as he continued to stare at the way you laughed with the other girls. “I think she has some kind of magnetic force that pulls me into her. Do you think it’s part of her quirk?”

Izuku could feel himself sweating at Shouto’s words. “Magnetic force? It can’t be part of her quirk, I’ve known her since we were children. She’s never shown this part if it is part of her quirk. Then again, I guess it could make sense? But, no because…” Izuku trailed off into his mumbled rambling, face scrunching as he debated whether or not you had a secret ability of your quirk. Wondering why you never told him, if that were the case. 

“Todoroki,” Iida said, curt voice cutting off Izuku’s rambling, “I believe that’s called attraction, and I think you’re in love with her.” He nodded after he finished talking and walked back to his desk to prepare for the next class. 

Shouto tilted his head as he finally tore his eyes off of your form, turning to talk to Izuku. “Attraction…? Midoriya-san, do you think I’m in love with Y/n?” His deadpan stare caused Izuku to stare at him with a slight guilty expression. 

“Well, Todoroki…” Izuku started, nervously glancing at you before continuing, “Yes…?” Noticing the confused expression on the half-and-half boy’s face, he quickly waved his hands. “It’s just, you’re always wanting to be near her. Even when we’re just walking to Ground Beta. Plus, you’re always staring at her with a soft look, wanting to be her sparring partner, sitting next to her at lunch, buying her lunch…” 

Izuku trailed off once more at the panicked look on his friend’s face. Before the green-haired boy could say anything else, he’s interrupted by your presence.

“Hey, guys! What are you two being so secretive about?” Your tone was teasing, a grin on your face. The sight of you caused Shouto’s cheeks to redden, the feeling making his eyes widen with shock. Using his quirk, he quickly cooled down his burning cheeks before you could notice. 

Izuku nervously grinned at you, voice rising with nerves, “Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Just talking about the new All Might figurine!” Your childhood best friend pulled out his phone and shoved the screen in your face. “Have you seen it? It looks so cool! Haha…” His sentence trailed off as you stared at him with a raised eyebrow with crossed arms. You knew he was lying. 

“L/n, do you have a part of your quirk that pulls people’s attention to you?” Shouto tilted his head as he asked you out right. He ignored Izuku’s frantic hand movements that signaled him to shut up. 

You looked between the two before humming and uncrossing your arms. “What do you mean by that, Todoroki?” You asked him as you took a seat at the desk next to his. Having your attention locked on him, and only him, caused his heart to race a little. He always wants your attention solely on him. Maybe Iida was correct… 

“Well,” Shouto started to say, thinking there was nothing wrong with being honest, “Every time I think of you, or even see you, my stomach feels all tingly. My hands also sweat, which is weird since my right side is always cool.” His eyebrows furrowed as he thought of how strange the feelings you made him feel were. “Oh, and I always find myself thinking about you.” 

The sincerity in his words, and the way he gazed at you with tender eyes caused your face to burn. “O-oh. Um, no. Attraction isn’t part of my quirk.” You cleared your throat as you fiddled with your fingers, not knowing what to say. You’ve had a crush on the dual-quirk user ever since the two of you went against each other in the Sport’s Festival. 

“Hm, interesting,” Shouto mumbled to himself, gaze set on his desk as he tried to think of another reason why he would feel that way. Izuku just watched with disbelief at the guts the Todoroki boy had for just blurting his feelings to you.

Aizawa stood up in his bright, yellow sleeping bag. His voice was groggy as he spoke, “Alright, class. Get back to your seats. The lesson is about to begin.”

“Talk to you later, Todoroki,” You shyly smiled at him, giving a small wave as you made your way back to your assigned seat. The smile on your face caused his heart to race and that tingly feeling to erupt in his stomach once more. During the whole lesson, the two of you couldn’t stop thinking of the other.

©his-lune 2024 ;; don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms.

#shouto x reader #shouto imagines #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto imagines #shoto oneshot #shouto oneshot #shouto fic #mha fic #fluff #fluff fic #shouto x reader imagines #shouto x reader oneshot #shouto x reader fic #shouto imagiens #todoroki x reader imagines #todoroki x reader oneshot #todoroki x reader fic #shoto x reader imagines #shoto x reader oneshot #shoto x reader fic #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha imagines #mha oneshot #mha x reader oneshot #mha x reader imagines #bnha x reader imagines #bnha x reader oneshot #bnha x reader fic

[jopkajabki]

wtf!!!!!she groovin!!!!!!!!

#i swear ill draw an actual drawing one day #..one day #i imagien them doing this exact dance all the time for some reason idk why #project sekai #mizuki akiyama #my art

[heliads]

Newt x reader Bridgerton AU. Reader, the diamond of the season, is the Duchess of Hastings. She wants to marry someone who likes her as a person and isn’t after her money. Newt, son of a widowed viscountess, needs to marry to save his family’s reputation because his sister Sonya was seen alone with her fiancé Lord Aris before they were engaged. The anonymous writer Lady Whistledown is Ava, a widowed modiste who has her nose in everyone’s business, and Aris is the only one who knows.

'foxes and hounds' - newt

masterlist

The start of a new social season, although intended, supposedly, to be a cause for joy, feels rather more like a fierce uprising of dread, not celebration. Across the ton, young maidens find themselves new entrees– or, entrants– to the marriage mart. This game of rings and dances, men with ambition and women with more, will end in blissful happiness or deepest discontent. And all will be witnessed by every worthy family from one corner of the country to the next.

If all goes according to plan, an eligible would-be bride will find herself engaged to a man she loves, a man in possession of a handsome fortune and a sterling reputation. If luck slips past her, she’ll settle for someone decent, or someone without any income at all. If nothing goes in her favor, her first year in society will not be her last as a single woman. She will have to repeat her attempt the next year, this time without the glimmering aura of a new arrival, and hope that something within her has changed enough to attract a proposal. Otherwise, she will sink to the bottom of the pile of dance cards, ignored, abandoned, and grown up into a spinster. All that hard work gone to waste.

You’ve heard many young women discuss the marriage mart with nothing short of absolute terror in their voices. A good opening season can seal a girl’s fate forever. Attracting the eye of a worthy man is an impossible task for all but the best of the rosebuds, or so it seems. Most of us will settle for something halfway decent– a tidy sum per annum but nothing extravagant, a man with casual disinterest but nothing harsh. Something that can be shaped into something good, or at least ignored in favor of not being alone. Such is the romance of a married life.

You, however, hope to extract a little more out of the whole affair. As the Duchess of Hastings, you have no need for money. A marriage would be nice, the final touch on the portrait of a successful lady, but you do not require the financial stability of a husband. You have plenty of money and plenty of friends. You will inherit your estate. If you look for a husband, you will look only for love.

One would think, then, that entering your first season among the eligible women of the ton would be bereft of the panic permeating through most of your friends in search of husbands. However, when you line up with the rest of the young women to be presented to the Queen at the start of the season, you find that it couldn’t be less true. 

Your stomach is in knots, even as you sweep confidently through the corridor to wait outside the door. The white feather in your hair stands tall and proud. Your dress is crisp and finely stitched, the highest of fashion yet never gaudy. You attract stares wherever you go– from the other girls, envious and jealous and heartsick, from the men, longing and cutthroat and mercenary– but pretend they don’t phase you in the slightest. As duchess, you’ve had plenty of time to grow accustomed to onlookers. You won’t allow them to interfere with you on this all important day.

At last, your name is called, and you enter the throne room, your mother behind you. You keep your steps small but light, and seem to float towards your queen. When the time is right, you sink into an elegant curtsy. The moment seems to last forever, your knees bent, your hands shaking slightly, but when the queen calls you to stand, you look up to find her smiling benevolently at you.

“I believe I have found my diamond of the season,” she announces.

The room erupts in polite applause, and you do your best to smother a smile that’s entirely too giddy to be proper. As you retreat from the room, you gaze at the faces surrounding you, trying to remember which ones look genuinely happy for you and which seem to be identifying a prize pig for the slaughter. When the town gossips all gather later to share their thoughts on today’s proceedings, you’re certain that some of them will attempt to discredit you, saying that of course the queen would choose the duchess as her diamond, but you know just as well as all of them that you deserve the honor today. You were the best of everyone here, and it’s plain to see.

Among all of them, your gaze catches on a singular man, almost lost in the crowd from all the bodies packed together but no less entrancing. What strikes you the most is that his face seems kind, and his eyes sparkle with pride as they watch you go. Pride for you, for your accomplishments. As if he couldn’t be more delighted that you of all people were named the season’s diamond.

Then you’re gone from the room, and the kind man is no longer before you. Still, you puzzle over the encounter long after your carriage takes you home. You don’t believe you recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything to sway you towards any decision. An image of the young man swims in your mind– short, dirty blond hair, an upturned mouth, dark eyes, his face almost spritely. Clever, for sure.

You know better than to mess with clever men. Clever men are the type to try and twist your mind, convince you that they only love you then attempt to make off with your money. You know full well what marriage to you will offer any would-be suitor. This season, you may be looking for affection, but every man in the room will be after your fortune. The task of finding someone who truly cares for you will be a difficult one indeed.

So, clever men or not, you’ll have to keep your heart under close guard. When the first ball of the season comes to be, you don one of your finest dresses, and firmly admonish yourself to be careful. The game of hearts is not one that you lose. Either you win, or you destroy yourself.

You time your arrival carefully, so as to make the best entrance, and your efforts are rewarded. From the moment you’re announced, all eyes turn to you. Were it not for your extensive experience with being scrutinized in the grand magnifying lens that is the ton, you’d be nervous to have that many people looking at you. Even still, you can’t pretend you don’t feel a small flutter in your stomach.

It gets easier once you sweep further into the room, once people start smiling at you again, when the conversation picks up and you’re asked for your first dance of the evening, which you accept. Your partner is a charming man named Minho– dark hair, witty eyes, an excellent sense of humor. He’s athletic and a decent dancer, and by the time the music stops, you’re back to your usual self again. You can’t stop yourself from mentally sizing up your dance partner. He seems nice, and you wouldn’t be bored around him, at least. His family owns land. Although he’s not of your precise social standing, few are, and he’s close enough to you that it would be a respectable match.

Still– still, you think to yourself, as you move away from the center of the floor once more to consider your dance card, it’s not quite enough. You want love, you want a spark, and you didn’t quite get that with Minho. There are plenty of eligible suitors here, though, and many more balls to come. You’ll have other opportunities to select a match.

A few dances later, though, your feet are beginning to feel heavy and you’re still no closer to finding someone of interest than you were at the start. A good lady of extensive training such as yourself should have no problem dancing the entire night through with a pleasant smile on her face, but you’re still human, still tired, and your charming demeanor is beginning to pinch at the seams before long.

The music for the latest dance ends, and you curtsy to your partner, praying silently that no one else will be looking to fill your dance card for the next rotation. However, when you turn around, you’re greeted with the sight of many anxious faces. Something inside you wilts, perhaps your endurance.

Before the mobs can descend upon you, however, a figure appears in front of you. You sigh in relief to see one of your closest friends, Miss Teresa Agnes. “Teresa! And here I thought I wouldn’t have a single good friend all evening.”

Teresa laughs, her dark hair shining. “I would never abandon you. Certainly not when our diamond is sparkling so spectacularly tonight.”

You smile at her. “I’m not the only one who’s sparkling, Teresa. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Teresa says sincerely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce someone to you. This is Viscount Newt, a good friend of mine. I met him through Thomas.”

You smile to yourself as Teresa turns to beckon someone towards you. Teresa has been harboring a not-so-secret admiration for Thomas since you were all small. This is her first season in the social circles, too, and if she doesn’t come out of it with a proposal from Thomas, you’ll think the sky has fallen. Even now, he’s watching her fondly from across the room, trying to pretend as if he isn’t pining madly while Minho teases him for it.

“Here he is at last,” Teresa says, and all of a sudden you can’t think about Thomas’ case of lovesickness for a second longer, because Teresa has brought her friend before you, and you know him. It’s the stranger from your presentation to the queen. The nice one, the clever one. The one that caught your eye, and then your imagination.

You curtsy automatically, and Newt bows. Once the two of you straighten up, you’re able to observe him more closely. You’d only gotten a fleeting glimpse earlier, but now you can drink in the sight of him, and you do. His eyes are dark, but catch the lights like stars. His mouth has a habit of twitching up at the sides, as if he’s always thinking of a joke but just barely managing to keep it at bay. When he looks at you, he really looks at you. You’ve been stared at all night by would-be suitors, but their gazes never went farther than surface level. Right now, it’s as if Newt can see through to your very soul, and most intimately of all, appreciates it.

Teresa gives you a confused look, and you realize you’ve been standing in silence for longer than is probably courteous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say.

“I must return the sentiment,” Newt returns. “Teresa has talked about you many times. I’ve been quite eager to meet you.”

“I hope I’m worthy of what she’s told you,” you say.

Newt smiles again. “I believe you’re even better than that,” he tells you.

Teresa is looking at you with an odd smile. “I believe I’d better let the two of you get to know each other, then,” she says, and sweeps away before you can stop her.

Newt laughs. “She’s been wanting to set us up for ages. For a friendship, I mean,” he breaks in hastily. “Apparently, she thinks we have a similar sense of humor.”

“I look forward to finding that out myself,” you smile.

Newt’s eyes flash with mirth again, delighting you. Behind you, the music picks up again. Newt extends a hand towards you. “Would you mind if I shared a dance with you? Unless, of course, you’d rather sit for a while.”

“I’d love to dance,” you say quickly, and it’s true. All of a sudden, the pain in your feet is gone, as if it had never existed at all.

Newt smiles and takes your hand to lead you to the dance floor. The orchestra begins its melody, and you start your dance. You make a mental note to ask Teresa a little more about Newt later; he dances like an aristocrat, but he speaks so freely to you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced in a suitor before.

Newt arches a brow as he steps through the dance. “Sizing me up, are you? It may be improper of me to ask, but I do hope I’m meeting your requirements.”

Your cheeks heat up. “I’m simply appreciating your mastery of this dance. Nothing more.”

Newt laughs easily. “Of course not. It’s not as if everyone else here is doing the same thing right now. Every dance partner is a strategy meeting. In just a matter of minutes, you’ll walk away knowing if I am a worthy wager, and I will do the same. This ball is full of hounds and foxes, my lady. We all know our parts.”

You glance at him, feeling a curious grin tugging at your lips. “And which am I? Fox or hound?”

Newt returns your proud gaze. “I suppose we’ll find out at the end of the season, won’t we?”

You laugh, feeling oddly triumphant. Newt has this way about him that you find enchanting. It’s  almost breaching impropriety with how candid he is around you, but it only makes you trust him more. The dance ends far sooner than you’d like. Newt relinquishes you to the storm of suitors outside, hopefully with just as much reluctance as you.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Newt is truly the only one that stands out to you. You don’t have a chance to dance with him again, but you keep making eye contact as you dance with other partners. You can practically hear his clever words in your head, catching you in the act of evaluating the suitors in front of you. Fox or hound?

When the ball ends and you return to your carriage for the ride home, you’re blissful, practically dreamy. You’ve had enough time with Newt to dream about it until the next ball, where you’ll likely repeat the same cycle over and over again until the season ends.

However, your golden mood is shattered when your chaperone sits down across from you. Her face, by contrast, is twisted with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’re getting yourself into?” She asks once the carriage pulls away.

Still caught up in the heady dream of a merry boy who smiled the brightest when he danced with you, you don’t realize the trap descending around you until it’s too late. “What trouble?”

Your chaperone’s lips purse. “You’re meant to be dancing only with eligible gentlemen, my lady. I should hope that you’d be able to recognize the suitable candidates from the unseemly by now.”

The veil is pierced, and you’re beginning to be brought back to earth. “What are you talking about? I thought I made perfectly reasonable choices with my dance partners.”

Your chaperone shakes her head, a quick, sharp gesture. “All but one. Goodness, haven’t you heard about the trouble with that one family? I can’t believe Miss Agnes had the nerve to introduce him to you, but perhaps the fact that she’s so besotted with Lord Thomas is upsetting her mind.”

Your heart freezes in your chest. “You can’t mean to say that the Viscount is not a suitable bachelor? What else could he be?”

The other woman sighs. “You don’t know, do you? My lady, I would not interfere if I did not feel the need, but I can assure you, his motives with you are purely mercenary. That man is desperate for something to cover up the follies of his family, and you, my dear, are the perfect gilded shield.”

You feel cold. “What follies?”

“His sister, Miss Sonya, was seen alone with her fiance,” your chaperone murmurs at last. “Lord Aris. I would think you would have heard his name, although perhaps not connected it with Viscount Newt. Miss Sonya and Lord Aris were happily engaged, and by all accounts it was a fine union, but they were seen together without a chaperone past dark. Quite the scandal. The Viscount knows it and is eager to get the ton talking about anything but his sister’s misdeeds. Entering into a courtship with you would do just the trick.”

She’s right, and you know it, and you hate it. “He seemed so genuine,” you whisper, and instantly know how foolish it sounds.

Your chaperone, to her credit, is kind enough to take pity on you. “He did,” she tells you, “and you looked happy together. You would be less happy, however, when you found out the truth. I would rather you know now and stay away. Men like that are nothing but trouble.”

You nod solemnly, turning your head to watch the dark landscapes rumbling past. The sun is already beginning to rise, a hallmark of a late night out. It had been a beautiful night up until this, and now the entire evening is ruined in your mind.

“I feel for Miss Sonya,” you whisper. “She was already engaged. They were just talking.”

“She knows the rules of society, and so do you,” your chaperone reminds you. “We all have our roles to play.”

And the consequence of setting a foot outside your role is instant public mortification. Yes. What a forgiving world. You immediately plant your exhausted body in your bed when you return, hardly sparing the time to wash and dress, but the only things to bloom from your rest are troubled dreams of the boy that could have been yours. Now that you know the truth– that Newt was only trying to use you for a better reputation– every interaction with him is tainted.

You’d meant what you said in the carriage, though. You did think Newt was genuine. Hadn’t he laughed more than usual when he was with you? Hadn’t he regarded you with that fierce pride of his, as if he’d finally found a mind that was an equal to his? Hadn’t he watched you with something akin to jealousy when you danced with the other men that weren’t him?

Hadn’t you wished he would only dance with you? And don’t you wish that you could truly do what you promised yourself and marry only for love, never mind the rest? It is a simple dream to think that love is easy. Marriage is not simple, not in the ton, not in your lifetime. Every one of your days will be shaped by the whims of society, even when they take Newt away from you.

When it comes time for the next ball, you do your best to strengthen your spirits before you go. You intentionally avoid him, making sure to always have your dance card full whenever the music ends. It’s easy enough to find a crowd large enough to hide you from him, and yet you still catch glimpses of Newt from across the hall, several partners down, in a carriage many behind yours. You successfully go two balls, then three, without seeing him, but it aches like a knife in your ribs when you think about what could have been.

As it turns out, you’re not the only one wishing you were with him. At the fifth ball of the season, your attempts to distance yourself from the viscount are foiled at last. Newt tracks you down, signing his name on your dance card before you can stop him before leading you out to the dance floor.

“That’s a rather abrupt way of asking a lady to dance, don’t you think?” You ask as you curtsy.

Newt bows. “I felt it was the only way of guaranteeing that you would dance with me.”

“A lady never declines a gentleman in need of a dance,” you remind him.

The music picks up, and the two of you begin your paces. “A lady also never avoids a gentleman as thoroughly as you have at the last few balls,” Newt says. “Were it not for the fact that I know you to be as perfectly agreeable a duchess as there could ever be, I would say that it was personal.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, even with his hands on you, guiding you through the steps. “It’s not meant to work out, my lord. Us, I mean. We cannot forget the rules.”

When Newt speaks again, his voice sounds hurt. “Why not? Forgive me, my lady, but I remember what it was like that first night. You were happy. We were happy, and happy together. What changed?”

At last, you risk a glance towards him, and instantly regret it. Newt’s eyes are filled with genuine hurt. Are you wrong? Did he actually want you as more than a cover-up? “I heard about your sister,” you say as delicately as you can.

Still, Newt flinches as if you’ve hit him. “You don’t know the full story,” Newt says raggedly.

“Then tell me,” you beg him. “I would choose you if I could, but everyone seems to think that you are only interested in me to advance your station. Give me a reason to believe in you, not them.”

“I can’t say it here,” Newt whispers. 

“I can’t go somewhere with you alone,” you tell him quietly. “Especially not after what happened to your sister. You must tell me now, or we will never have another chance.”

“Alright,” he says at last. “But you mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

Once you agree, Newt begins to speak in a hushed whisper hardly audible to you, let alone the other couples around you. “Sonya is deeply in love with Lord Aris, and he is in love with her. So much so to the point that he has been battling a deep rage ever since that awful gossip rag, Lady Whistledown, slightly disparaged her last season. He took it upon himself to find out Lady Whistledown’s identity, and somehow, he did. The only problem is, Lady Whistledown is not someone Sonya would consider a friend. He wanted to warn her about the dangers of being anything less than perfect around that insidious writer, and he didn’t want to waste a moment. He called on her to meet with him as soon as possible. He didn’t think they would be seen, but they were, and of course Lady Whistledown ran with it to discredit them in case they would reveal her.”

You suck in a harsh breath. “It was never anything wrong, then. He merely wanted to protect her.”

Newt nods. “Lord Aris is a good man. He never would have done something like this if he realized how it would backfire. He regrets it daily, even though all he wanted to do was keep my sister safe. The ton knows their characters, too. Neither of them would do anything unseemly. The rumors diminish by the day, and soon, it will all be over. They will be happily married.”

He sighs and looks at you again. “I tell you this to explain myself, and to clear my name. I have nothing to hide from the situation with my sister and her future husband. In fact, it is only because they directly asked me not to spread this information that I haven’t gone public with the identity of Lady Whistledown herself to spare their reputations. I have nothing to fear, my lady. Certainly nothing that would make me risk the happiness of my marriage on a good rumor. I would court you because I have never met anyone like you before, nor do I think I ever will. You are utterly entrancing in every possible way. If you do not wish to be with me in that fashion, I would understand.”

You shake your head quickly. “I do want that, my lord. I want you.”

A careful smile slips across Newt’s face. “Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you tell him. “I have wanted you since the moment I saw you at my presentation. I would have found you no matter what lies they spread.”

Newt grins. “I believe I have decided something important, my lady. About your inner nature.”

You arch a brow as he spins you. “And what is that?”

“You’re a hound,” he informs you matter-of-factly. “Sharp and bright. Brave, too. But, then again, I am a hound as well. We make quite the pair, I think.”

“I think so too,” you tell him. In the days to come, rumors will abound about the viscount and the duchess. At first, there will be surprise across the ton, but then, even the most tenacious of gossips will realize that this makes perfect sense. The most clever of men and the most ambitious of women, bound together in holy matrimony. Even the best of poets couldn’t concoct a story that beautiful.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

the maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#newt #newt imagines #newt x reader #newt oneshot #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr oneshot #the maze runner #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagienes #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #tmr newt #tmr newt imagines #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt oneshot #the maze runner newt #the maze runner newt imagines #the maze runner newt x reader #the maze runner newt oneshot #bridgerton au #au #regency au

[itsbuckytm]

Masterlist - Hunger Games Stories

I finally was able to make a Masterlist of my stories for our love of The Hunger Games series especially TBSOAS here is a few that I have written for thus far. XOXO'

Reaper Ash:

Love and Temptations

Treech:

Capitol's Love Birds

Sejanus Plinth:

Lost Souls

Coriolanus Snow:

Distraction

Jealousy

Little Bird

Envy and Passion PT. 1

Envy and Passion PT. 2

Coriolanus Snow ft. Sejanus Plinth :

Cherry Red

Coriolanus Snow ft. Treech :

A Lumberjack's Love Story

#masterlist #tbosas fanfic #tbosas x reader #coriolanus snow imagiens #coriolanus snow x reader #reaper ash fanfic #reaper ash x fem!reader #reaper ash smut #sejanus plinth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus imagines #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow imagines #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #treech tbosas #x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #hunger games x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you

[snakeoid]

and one dilulu before i go to work

#genshin impact #diluc #ignore the wolfs gravestone i fr spent like 2 minutes on that bc i gotta go to sleep before i go to work lol #ok ive repaid taye for i forgot what . sorry he was sweaty before but i didnt like how it looked #imagien it

[crustycrackhead]

Sketch of a Knight AU for Starhalo / Sweetduo piece I wanna render

#my art #wip #qsmp #qsmp fanart #qsmp bbh #qsmp etoiles #badboyhalo #sweetduo #starhalo #bbh #etoiles #uhhhh but Imagien I cane draw horses then this piece will be finished lamo