Crush Imagines Novels & Stories

Mia If I were asked why I'm here, my reply is to fulfill a promise, so welcome to my diary. I am Mia, a nerd and that quiet girl who doesn't even exist or get noticed. However, I have a friend, Nicole who has a crush that doesn't know she even exist either and currently she's going for a heart surgery but have refused. Why? That's because she wants this crush to be hers at all cost. I had to make a promise that I watch over him for her, stalk him, learn everything about him while she gets her surgery done in America.

Hills crying into her husband's arms while he had tears in his eyes. Just then, Shelley's phone announced: "Big Crush Bruno's Birthday Tonight!" Shelley's eyes widened, as did Jessie's and her parents'. Shelley knew what was coming next and ran to turn it off, but it was too late. "Don't miss it! You gotta confess your feelings!" She got to the couch and closed her eyes tightly before canceling the reminder. Slowly, she turned and saw the faces she expected to see. "You had a crush on Bruno too?"

The door swung open to reveal him in a pair of sleep pants and nothing else. "Yes, Princess?", he asked as he opened the door wider to let her in. "I know this is a weird question but can I crash on your couch?", She asked. He looked her over as he could plainly see she was beyond exhausted and ready to fall over. "Problems with your place?", he asked. "They are there, and they won't leave.", she stated. "Who are they exactly?", he asked as she sat on the couch. "My team.", she said. "The east coast main blue team."

I am your sweetheart psychopathic crush Drink up your movements, still I can’t get enough I overthink you p-punctuation use Not my fault, just a thing that my mind do I stared at him at the stage wondering if he still has a crush on me. Lance Anderson, why did I even forget about him? A rush at the beginning I get caught up, just for a minute But lover, you’re the one to blame, all that you’re doing Can you hear the violence? Megaphone to my chest

I said, standing up. “No way you’re thinking about a crush,” she argued. “Why? Why do you say that?” I asked. “You don’t have a crush. You’ve been too much of a nerd to even think about breaking your holes. So tell me — whose crush?” She crossed her arms, chin up, waiting. “Alex,” I blurted, trying to slip past her into the bathroom. “We don’t have any Alex at school. What kind of made-up joke is that? Joan Crest, you better start spilling right now, or I’ll tell everyone you did this to yourself thinking about some imaginary Alex.” She scoffed, then turned to grab her phone from the vanity.

The second gate suddenly burst open. Crusher was here. He looked terrifying, and I feared that the sickness was outgrowing his body and he could lose his life in this fight. I could see the scars on his body, and this time he decided to stand as a predator. He had his eyes glued to Laris. The crowd instantly began chanting. “Crusher!” “Crusher!” “Crusher!” He looked at Alpha Malone. “I’ve waited a long time for a rematch, and fate brought us together again. I’m going to win my freedom.” Crusher roared loudly as we all watched Laris reveal his claws.

He smiled and said, "Winning this championship was completely within my expectations. I believe in my talent and my strength, and I hope I can achieve even better results on the ice in the future." The camera panned over the stands. A sea of fangirls held banners and signs showing support, screaming at the top of their lungs. A few crazed fans even shouted that they wanted to marry him. Sitting in front of the TV, I let out a cold snort and shifted my gaze to the balcony. My childhood friend, Flynn Carter, was doing laundry shirtless, his muscles sharply defined. No one could've imagined that the aloof, unattainable prince in everyone else's eyes was, at that very moment, acting like my pers

BEAT! I pour the last dregs of my will, my sanity, into that impossible image. Forcing the torrential chaos through the crucible of my scars, compressing it, shaping it with the only template I have: the defiant pulse of existence itself. The pressure inside me peaks. A silent detonation. The funneling chaos… snaps.