This is just a compilation of a bunch of imagines and one-shots I've come up with over years of writing. I'll take requests, as long as I know the fandom (I am willing to do my research). My favourites are Harry Potter, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, a...
The bustling energy of Central City was at its peak, the streets alive with the hum of traffic and chatter of pedestrians. High above the city, the glittering Beacon Tower stood as a symbol of corporate power and influence. Tonight, it was the venue for a lavish gala hosted by one of the most influential CEOs in town, Mr Frost. It was an event that promised an evening of opulence and prestige, but beneath the surface, something far more sinister lurked, and Iris West was determined to uncover it.
Iris adjusted her dress, a sleek, black number that hugged her curves and shimmered subtly in the light. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, ensuring that every strand of her hair was in place. She didn't often get dressed up for work, but tonight was an exception.
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"Ready for this?" Y/N's voice broke through her thoughts. He stood at the doorway, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. In his crisp suit, he looked every bit the dashing reporter, ready to take on the world.
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"Absolutely," Iris replied, her eyes sparkling with determination. "I still can't believe you managed to get us tickets."
Y/N shrugged, his grin widening. "What can I say? I have my ways. Besides, I couldn't let you have all the fun."
She laughed, the sound light and infectious. "I suppose I should thank you, then."
"That would be appropriate," he teased, stepping closer to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. "But let's save the gratitude for later. We've got a scandal to uncover."
Iris nodded, the fire of curiosity burning brightly within her. Mr Frost was a man of many secrets, and tonight, she intended to bring at least one of them to light.
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The gala was everything Iris had expected and more. The grand ballroom of Beacon Tower was a spectacle of elegance and wealth, with crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Waiters in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowd, offering trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The air was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
