#but imagine how much faster i could crank gifs out if i knew how to autocap

[holyfruitsnax]

Ain’t So Hard

Summary: You aren’t one for driving, your best friend Arvin decides to take lessons into his own hands.

Pairing: Arvin Russell x Reader

Warnings: None? There’s usually a little language but I don’t believe there’s any in here 😲 this is very much fluff

Authors Note: Until I can figure out why my laptop won’t update since that’s what I prefer to write on, I’ll just be posting this little imagine I wrote ❤️

  Driving had never been your strong suit, it freaked you out. You couldn’t help the way your hands shook, and your head spun each time you sat behind the wheel. It’s a lot of pressure, to hurl a giant metal object at high speeds and hope for the best. Though not everyone thought of it that way. Your childhood best friend was quite the opposite, Arvin loved to drive, especially when you rode with him. You aren’t his sweetheart or nothin’, but you are at the time. Everybody and their momma knew that, and it was odd to see one of you going around town without the other. 

  Arvin always loved watching you smile while climbing into his old clunker of a truck. The way you’d point at random things with joy like you didn’t see them yesterday, perks of a small town he’d suppose. When the day came that you didn’t carry the same shine when going for a drive like you usually did, Arvin decided to take a detour to try and ease your mind. “What’s wrong darlin’?” He slowed the truck down to look over at you, a cool summers breeze finding its way through the open windows. His heart sank watching you shrug “I-I’m just a bit embarrassed...That I don’t know how to drive. It makes me feel childish.” you sighed running a finger along the dust gathered on the dash.

  The fact that you didn’t drive hadn’t ever come to Arvin’s mind. “No, that don’t make you childish y/n.” He furrowed his brow turning his body towards you, stopping the truck after pulling into a field clearing. “You swear it?” Your hand placed itself gently on Arvin’s shoulder causing a light tinge to spread across his pale cheeks. “I do, I do.” He chuckled picking up your hand to place a kiss to your knuckles making you swoon. “You wanna drive?” He grinned quirking a brow at your shocked expression. “Arvin- I no! Are you crazy? You wanna die? I’ll crash your truck so fast I-I mean-” “I was just foolin’ with ya y/n... but you could give it a try?” it was Arvin’s turn to shrug a little. 

  “I tell you what, I’ll stay right here, you can sit in my lap. I’ll control the pedals and all you gotta do is steer.” He peddled his feet and moved the wheel around for emphasis making you giggle. “I guess trying wouldn’t hurt? Unless we crash like I said.” You teased sliding across the bench seat into Arvins lap. “Well, we’ll get to that when it happens but out of anybody who could wreck my truck and get away with it, it’d be you.” He joked back making you swat his arm. “Thanks for the encouragement, Russell.” “Oh, anytime sweetheart.” He winked while cranking the truck back up. Immediately your body stiffened, and your heavy breathing became apparent to Arvin.

  Letting one of his arms wrap around your middle he placed his chin gently on your shoulder. “Hey.” He hummed looking up at you. “I-I’m scared.” You whimpered gripping the steering wheel tight. “I know, it’s alright. I’m right here and I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to ya Darlin’ we’ll go slow.” Arvin reassured you, glad to feel you lighten up and take a deep breath. “M’ready.” You smiled nervously, but Arvin nodded with confidence for you and pressed down on the gas a little while you steered. You were driving. You smiled widely taking a moment to look at Arvin “I’m doing it! We’re moving!” You laughed trying not to jerk the steering wheel too much. “I told you! It ain’t so hard.” Arvin smiled back loving every second of your excitement.

  As the two of you drove around the empty field a little faster, joking back and forth, Arvin decided that everybody was right. You’re his sweetheart. Watching the wind whip through your hair every now and then, listening to you laugh or squeak when you messed up a little, or the subtle way you held his eyes in a prideful gaze, though his held pride and a little bit of something else. Arvin let go of the gas and let the truck come to a stop making you turn and give your friend a concerned look. “What happened? Did we run outta gas? Oh my goodness what a walk home that’ll b-” Your rant had been interrupted by a chapped set of lips pressing into your much softer ones. Arvin’s eyes slid shut while yours blew wide, but you aren’t insane, so you kiss back. 

 The air between the two of you remained sweet as you separated. “I like you.” Arvin grinned. “I like you too.” You said matter o’ factly. “Alright...how bout’ I love you.” He tested leaning his head against the headrest “I love you too” you rolled your eyes smiling. There was a comfortable silence as you just sat with one another for a bit. “I guess I ought to get you home before dark.” Arvin grumbled cranking the truck back up making you look at him socked. “We ain’t outta gas?” You said wholeheartedly. “Oh my- bless your heart y/n. You’ll get there one day darlin’.” He teased making you fake pout, only giving in as he kissed your neck, driving you home.

My first Arvie boy story! I think it’s super cute, I hope y’all agree! Thank you so much for reading loves <3 -Snax

[watermelonlipstick]

Three, Two, One

Working through my list of requests, I was really grateful to be able to fulfill this one from anon, who asked: 

I have ptsd, and really loud, sudden noises and sudden touches can make me have a panic attack, so can you do something where there’s a really loud noise or someone touches the reader and sends her into a panic attack and Dean helps her?

It felt a little too obvious to go with a gunshot here. I’m also imagining this set in early seasons both for aesthetic and for Bobby’s house. Hopefully it’s something like what you were hoping for!

Title: Three, Two, One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Word Count: 1069

Summary: Dean grounds the reader after a panic attack brought on by a loud noise. 

Warnings: oblique description of panic attack, description of loud noise

           The way he was right in front of you at virtually the same second the car backfired almost made it worse at first, to be honest, filling your field of vision as he’d flown out of the front seat of the car where it sat in Bobby’s salvage yard.

           “Shit, I’m so sorry, I thought I’d fixed it—here, sit down,” he said, guiding you over to a folding chair on the edge of the garage. You let him ease you to the metal, feeling the heat and pounding starting to build in your head already. Dean crouched in front of you. “Water? Let me get you some water.”

           He was back in a flash with a plastic bottle, sweating so much in the humidity that the paper label on it hung loose and ugly. You took it from him with a shaky hand once he’d cracked the cap off, and took a quick sip more to feel the coldness in your mouth than out of any real thirst. Dean reached out to pat your thigh and pulled back at the last second like he’d been burned, remembering that sometimes touching you made it worse. “Can I—um?”

           You nodded, grateful for his asking and worried if you spoke you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. His palm over your knee was just this side of too hot, beach sand baked in the summer sun, and you tried hard to bring yourself back to reality, focus on that point of heat seeping through your jeans.

           “1 to 10?” he asked, gentle but firm as he fell into his script.

           “7,” you answered honestly.

           Dean nodded, just once, almost to himself, flicker of a quirk at one side of his mouth gone so fast you might’ve missed it. If you weren’t clawing to keep yourself above water you might’ve been able to appreciate his pride in heading off the worst of it by his rapid action.

           “I’m right here, you can close your eyes. Not going anywhere,” he continued in that poundcake voice; soft, sturdy, and sweet. Through trial and error you’d found that skipping to the three—three things you could hear—of a 5-4-3-2-1 grounding strategy was better for you; less risk of a surprise touch to add to the panic at its worst and increased contrast from whatever loud noise that had triggered it slowing the reins of your mind faster, letting you grab ahold and take control again. If you closed your eyes you could focus even harder on those small sounds, but so often it was impossible to beat back the anxiety enough to let you do it—this was one of the things Dean had been working on with you, ability to give the burden of watching out to him when you were buried in the tunneling foxhole of your mind. You tried your best to take a deep breath and let your eyelids slide shut.

           Three things you could hear.

           “Deep Purple.” Either the battery on the car was still good or he had that old boombox somewhere in the garage.

           “Underrated as always. That’s good; another?” he encouraged.

           “Windchime on the back porch.” Just a light twinkling; just barely below breeze to make the weather perfect.

           “Damn, you can hear that? I need to stop cranking the stereo so loud. Just one more.” Even knowing he was intentionally putting in the casual commentary, it helped to latch onto the light, easy conversation.

           “Cicadas.”

           “Annoying as hell, right? Okay, now two.”

           Two things you could smell.

           “Motor oil, you.”

           You could hear the smile in his voice even with your eyes closed. “And what do I smell like?”

           “Sweat, Old Spice, Coors Light.” And that little underlying note you could never place; the closest you’d ever gotten being a kind of sweet leather—leaving a cupcake in a hot car, maybe—but you were already at five things, technically. Feeling a touch of the panic start to lift, you were able to give him a weak facsimile of your normal cheeky smile, keeping your eyes closed as he chuckled gently.

           “Yeah, you love it,” he teased. “One?”

           One thing you could taste.

           “I don’t know, chapstick, maybe?”

           “I’ll call an audible and say you can swap for something you can feel,” he offered when you couldn’t think of anything.

           “Your hand on my knee.”

           He waited a beat for you to try to regulate your breathing before saying anything else. “1 to 10?”

           “3.” You opened your eyes to see him where you knew he’d still be, unmoved from his crouch on the weedy gravel in front of you. He still looked a touch concerned but primarily his face was open and hopeful as he searched your expression for more clues on how you were doing. “I’m good, sorry,” you sighed on the tail end of another deep breath, relishing the relative loosening of your lungs from a few minutes before.

           A smirk spread across Dean’s face, whites of his teeth impossible contrast to the light tan he’d gotten in the last couple weeks and spray of new sun-dyed freckles across his face, especially with the smudges of grease he had from working all day. “Nothing to be sorry about, kid. Should’ve double checked before I had you come check it out, that’s on me.” There was a shade of guilt there, and you wrapped your fingers around his hand where it stayed on your knee, giving him a little squeeze.

           Clearly that wasn’t enough to assuage Dean’s guilt, but what ever was? He held your gaze for a second before easing up to standing, grabbing a wrench out of his back pocket and tossing it in the general direction of a toolbox before wiping his hands sloppily on the back pockets of his jeans and rubbing the close-cut hair at the back of his neck. “Can I make you a sandwich? I’m starved.”

           It was another apology and fighting Dean about it wouldn’t help; the sandwich a continuation of the rapid response to your panic attack in that it was a manifestation of the best way Dean knew how to show affection/gratitude/apology, that wrap-you-in-a-blanket, take-you-under-my-wing care always so much easier for him than putting into words what he meant.

           You let him have it. “Yeah, a sandwich sounds good.”

           The way he smiled in response as he held out a hand to pull you up and sling an arm around your shoulders would’ve been enough to make you eat 20 sandwiches.

           One thing you could taste.  

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[too-attached-to-fiction]

Reunion | f.w.

Masterlist here

Word count: 1237

Request: Could you do a imagine where the reader is a dursley aka Harry’s cousin. But when Fred and reader meet after the war (Fred lives) they don’t know, and they fall in love since she knows about magic. But she’s a muggle of course. So when Fred takes her to meet the family Harry’s so shocked. Maybe they use to love each other and trust each other like siblings but when he discovered he was a wizard they fall apart. Because Harry has other things going on. And maybe after forth year, they completely stoped talking and they both regret it. So when they see each other it hurts both of them, but they end up making up. It’s after the war so Ginny and Harry are together (or married. Up to you!)

a/n: I don’t know how I feel about this one, I feel like it should be a whole series and unfortunately, I don’t have the time or patience for that to happen, but thank you for the prompt! slowly working through asks, although a good majority of them are for Fred or George so please request different characters if you can!! That way I avoid burn out and crank out imagines faster. thank you!

buy me a coffee!

~~~

Out of all people, of course you would end up for Fred Weasley. 

You worked in a tiny coffee shop close to the Leaky Cauldron, and it was incredibly common for young witches and wizards to stop by for pastries before going to buy school supplies. In that sense, it was almost inevitable that you would end up dating a wizard himself. 

Fred and George had walked in early one morning, buying breakfast from the cafe. As soon as they were done, they had both decided that they liked the cafe enough to come in once a week. 

One afternoon, Fred appeared by himself, sitting at the counter and asking you questions. In between customers you answered that you grew up in Little Whinging, you did have a sibling, and family wasn’t a thing you thought about much these days. He stayed and kept talking long after his cup had been emptied, and when you finally had to kick him out because of closing, he asked you out. 

As your relationship grew more serious, the both of you got more nervous. You’d figured out that he was a wizard quite easily; he left unfamiliar coins everywhere, and he definitely wasn’t very sneaky when it came to hiding his wand from you. 

One afternoon, when he came to your flat, you asked him to sit down. 

“Fred, I know you’re a wizard.” 

“What? Wizards don’t exist-” 

“My cousin was one. He lived with my family until he was seventeen. The wand and everything. It isn’t new or odd to me, so you can stop trying to hide your wand and galleons from me.” 

“Are you alright? Are you sure you haven’t lost your mind?” 

“Fred.” 

He sighed. “What gave it away?” 

“Quite a lot, actually.” 

Your family wasn’t brought up again until he had asked you to marry him. He knew that you and your parents were estranged, but neither of you ever brought up the cousin who was a wizard. 

“Bloody hell, I didn’t even ask your father for permission.” 

“I don’t talk to him, so that would be difficult.” You pointed out. “I don’t talk to my family at all, really.” 

Despite knowing this, Fred couldn’t wrap his head around it. His family, although large and overbearing, was still family. He couldn’t imagine having parents and siblings and actively choosing to distance himself from them. 

“Why not?” 

You sighed. “I ran away from home when I was fifteen and haven’t looked back since. My parents and I didn’t exactly get along. Aside from my cousin, I was the outcast of the family. I haven’t tried to find them since changing my name.” 

“Were you close with the cousin, at least?” He asked hopefully, wondering if there’d be anyone on your side of the wedding benches. 

“We protected each other. My younger brother hated the both of us and my parents thought my brother was the golden child. It was us against the world. But he went off to Hogwarts when he was eleven and I was thirteen. I think in the beginning I was angry, but maybe that’s because I was hurt because he left me to deal with my demons by myself.” You said wistfully. “I ran away while he was at school, but my mum didn’t bother to tell him. You know how most muggles are about owls.” 

“Did you try to find him after you ran away?” Fred asked, watching your face fall as you shook your head. 

“I regret that part. I knew there was something bad going on in the wizarding world, but he knew that if I knew the full extent, I’d get killed trying to protect him. Even without magic, I’d still try to fight for him.” 

“Maybe we can find him after the wedding.” Fred suggested, tugging you close so you could lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Maybe.” You hummed. “Have you told your family about me?” 

“George has said some things, and they know you’re a muggle, but other than that… Mum’s been hounding me about bringing you home for dinner ever since I told them we’re getting married.” 

“Well, Christmas is coming soon. We could always make an appearance then.” 

“You’d really do that for me?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I would.” 

Molly was absolutely delighted when she discovered you were coming for the holidays, although you’d be getting there by a train and a car. Fred and George had long praised Molly’s food, and while you were excited by the prospect of marrying into a large family, you were still nervous about meeting them. 

As you passed through the magical barriers with Fred’s hand in yours, you looked up in amazement at the Burrow. The twins had told you that their house looked like it could fall apart at any moment, but it was very sturdy, thank you very much. The three of you were arriving just before supper. 

“George’ll get the bags. Come on, introductions are going to take a while.” Fred said, pulling you inside. 

Although it was unfamiliar, the Burrow felt like home instantaneously. The smell of mince pies and treacle tarts floated through the air, and the fire roared in front of the sitting area. 

In the kitchen, Molly was working away, utensils and pots levitating and moving everywhere. Fred cleared his throat. 

“Mum, come meet (Y/N).” 

Molly whirled around to give her son a hug and a kiss on the cheek before pulling you in for a hug. “(Y/N), it’s wonderful you’re here. I hope Fred’s been treating you well. Please, get settled, supper will be ready in a little while.” 

Fred nodded, pulling you off to the staircase. 

“Dad’s working late at the ministry as usual, but he’ll be asking a lot of questions. He’s fascinated with muggle items.” Fred explained as you climbed up. “Percy’s flooing home with him. Bill and Charlie don’t usually come back, since Bill’s a curse breaker in Egypt and Charlie works with dragons.” 

Fred led you up several more flights of stairs before pounding on the door to the attic. “I hope you’re all decent in there.” He warned. “(Y/N)’s here.” Fred twisted the doorknob to find Hermione, Ginny, Ron and… 

Harry. 

You froze behind Fred, looking at the boy you’d grown up with who now had stubble and happy eyes. The last time you’d seen him, he was storming out of the house after blowing up Aunt Marge (who, quite frankly, deserved it). 

He looked back at you, his face falling. You’d always looked mature and more put together, but now you were an adult. The older cousin he’d relied on when he was younger wasn’t the pink-haired rebel anymore. He’d wondered what had happened to you, and nearly hexed Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon when they had told him you had run away. Even in his last moments with Dudley, both had expressed that they missed you terribly. 

“Harry.” 

“(Y/N).” 

“You’re alive.” 

“So are you,” He said with a wry smile. 

“How do you two know each other?” Ginny asked, looking back and forth between the two of you. 

“She was Dudley’s older sister. She was the one that ran away during third year.” Harry explained to his friends before turning back to you. “So you’re Fred’s fiance, then.” 

You smiled. “It seems like we both found family in the same place.”

[pattswriting]

unnoticed | newt x reader

title:unnoticed

pairing: newt x reader

type: fluff/kinda angst

warnings: mentions of blood, suicide, guns

prompt: everyone around you notice your affection and feelings towards newt, exept said boy.

songs recommendetions: miss americana & heartbreak prince by taylor swift, i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys, if i could fly by one direction, fine line by harry styles, i love you by billie eillish, mirrors by justin timberlake, sweater weather by james harris

a/n my first newt imagine, i tried my hardest! sleep well, have a good day and drink water!

edit: i posted it on my main blog before, thought it might be better on here.

***

NEWT didn’t notice. He never noticed the glances you’d give him, longing stares or how sparkles formed in your eyes, whenever you saw him. But Frypan did. He always watched your person in front of blonde boy, thinking how he could be so blind, when it was so obvious.

“He’s such a slinthead” said Fry one day at the bonfire. You furrowed your eyebrows looking at your friend. “ I mean, you give him those eyes and he still reminds blind”. You didn’t say anything. Just glanced at Newt, again.

HE didn’t notice. He never saw how you managed to fix your hair or shirt, when someone said he’s coming towards your way. But Winston did. And never lost a chance to laugh at you or tease, because he knew what was going on.

“You literally look the same everyday. He’s seen you like this million times. It’s like your hands have magic inside of them, that will make you look like a princess, suddenly.” said Winston as Newt went back to work.

“Slim it, Win” you said embarrased knowing, that it was riddiculous. But you couldn’t help it. Newt had that effect on you.

CHUCK got used to your talk, eventually. After two years, he got used to be greeted in the morning with little morning and question if he saw Newt. When it was dinner, he got used to your drooling over second-in-command. Or when you were pranking Gladers, he knew you will immadietly say to not doing anything to Newt. And, of course, he knew at the bed time, you would say how much you liked him.

“I’m telling you (Y/N), one day you will get married and have seven children” said chubby boy resting next to you.” Why so much? Having to take care of sixty boys it’s enough” you said and both of you laughed. He really did wish you a good life with blonde boy.

BOY found himself watching you, closely. He saw your panicked eyes, your shaking hands. Your faster breathe and how you were practically running from one place to another. Alby didn’t want you to see Newt, like that. He also knew the said boy didn’t want either.

“You’ll be okay Newt, everything will be alright. We will fix you. I will fix you. I promise, just don’t leave me, please. I can’t...I can’t loose you. Not you.” you keep saying as you and Minho tried to bear boy’s wounds. His leg was broken in three places and blood streamed down his face.

“It was an accident. Please, don’t worry” Alby said after you treated Newt. You shaked your head, tears kept coming down from your eyes.

“I perfectly know, Alby. I know, what would get him to be injured like that. It’s not nothing. We have to take care of him. Be there for him. I swear on my life, he will survive and he will live happy life” you said with determination. Alby knew since then, that you would give up your own life for blonde boy. You almost did.

BROWN-HAIRED BOY thought it must feel amazing. To love someone this much. To feel pure happiness and love to one person. Thomas was fascinated by your feelings. He always caught himself thinking, how is it, that his best friend doesn’t feel this energy coming from you.

“How does it feel like?” he asked one night, when it was your guys turn to watch the surrodings at the Scorch. You looked at him confused. “To feel so strong emotions and yet, never saying anything” he added. You were silent for a moment. You didn’t know either.”There wasn’t really time to acknowledge it. That’s all.”

YOU were terrified. First you were running from Grievers, then WICKED and now, the Cranks. You asked yourself, when will it stop? But whatever happened, you always were able to hold Newt’s hand. Or his arm. Or part of his shirt. Even when there was some peace, you still had the urge to touch him, somehow. You needed to feel him. To know, he is right beside you. He is safe. 

MINHO noticed it. Every time. At first, he thought it’s odd. But then, he realized how you felt. Wondered, what was on his best friend mind. 

“ It’s kinda cute, you know” he said, while you all were sitting at the Cliff watching Aris and the girls. ”You hold hands so often, I’d think you are dating”. Newt laughed it off and let go of your hand, just to elbow you with a smirk.

“We got these shunks to think we’re a think, (Y/N). The best irony in my life” blonde boy said shaking his head. You didn’t say anything, just smiled at all of them. They looked at you sympatrically. What could you say? 

THE GIRL was smirking, whenever she looked at you two. You were blindly in love with the boy, standing next to you. There wasn’t a moment where you weren’t next to him. Either it was your group discussing rescue plan for Minho or working or eating, your place was next to him.

“Sometimes, I think it’s creepy.” said your best friend sitting along with you at the sand. “What is?” you asked with a smile. She smirked.”How you always are by Newt’s side. It’s probably nothing weird to both of you, but from ours perspective, it really looks amusing, even” she answered, looking straight at you. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you laughed.

“Yeah well, I can’t help it. It’s something that feels right, you know? Like, it should be like that.” you said. Your gaze went to find blonde boy talking with Thomas. Brenda followed you, couldn’t help but smile. She really, really prayed you would confess your feelings finally. From what you and others have been saying, among Minho, Thomas and Fry, you’ve been in love with Newt what it seems, for three years. It pained her to know, how deep you had to hide it. She also felt furious. Not at you, of course. At the boy, who was painfully obvious to your feelings. He didn’t notice small details, that showed how much you loved him.

“I CAN’T SHUCKING BELIEVE IT” said Gally when you walked side by side through the tunnel. He wouldn’t admit it, but felt disappointed and kind of surprised. He knew you and Newt for so long, saw your eyes, your smile, your body language. The way you acted around blonde boy. You had to be goddamn stupid, to not know that you were in love. And yet, you didn’t say a single word. And Newt didn’t see any of that.

“You really want to tell me, that you and him are still friends?” boy looked at you with disbelief. You turned behind to see, if Thomas and Newt don’t hear you.

“I guess. I mean, we always were friends.” you said quietly. Gally rolled his eyes.

“ It doesn’t mean you have to remain like this forever.” he commented with cheesy smile. You laughed and shook your head. “I’m not sure if this is a moment and place to confessions.” you said after a while.

“You’ve been saying it for a years now. It’s been cute at the beginning, seriously. But now, it hurts doesn’t it? What I am saying is, you shouldn’t waste any time. You might not have it a lot.” said Gally with symphaty and worry in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” you asked not knowing how to proces his words. He didn’t say anything. Part of you didn’t need him to.

SHE looked sadly at her old friend. They didn’t have to tell her. She knew. Newt was infected. She glanced at you. You were looking at him with teary, worried eyes, clinging onto his arm, like always.When she was in WICKED, she couldn’t help but wonder, if she didn’t betray Thomas like that, would two of them be like you and Newt?

“He’s the love of your life, isn’t he?” she asked, getting your chip out of your neck. You didn’t say anyting. There was nothing to say.

“The serum you have….It won’t save him. You know that” you remained silent. Tears came to your eyes but you didn’t say anything. Thomas noticed the change in your facial expression. “I think that’s enough.” he said getting you away from her. He knew exactly what was that about. Of course he noticed. But him? He was to busy with his thoughts. Thoughts that were killing him, slowly.

“PLEASE (Y/N) JUST LISTEN TO ME” raven-haired girl practically yelled at you. “You know he doesn’t have much time. But I can help him. We can save him. I just need to test Thomas’ blood.” said Teresa pleading with her eyes towards you. Normally, you would laughed at her face. But this time, it was different. It was about Newt. You looked at him, almost crying. He was already looking at you, shaking his head. Without breaking the stare, you asked a question:

“Will you save him?” your voice was shaking, you saw how Newt looked at you  confused. You felt Thomas sharp voice; “You can’t be serious, (Y/N)”. You still were looking at Newt. You hoped your eyes would tell him something, your lips weren’t able to.

“I know together, we will”

***

AND that’s how you were running again. But this time, with needle in your hand and Teresa by your side. Corridors were almost empty, just doctors evacuating. Every guard was now just were The Ivy Trio was. That’s why you found them without any trouble. They noticed you straight away but obviously, guards did too. You reached the boys and started running together, as bullets were flying to your side. You were so determineted, so thankful for Teresa’s resarch that you didn’t feel bullet which was now lower your ribs.

“Newt I got it, I got the cure.” you half-shouted when you all were in the room. They all looked at you like you were crazy.”Me and Teresa got it, you just have…” then you felt pain all over your body. Your legs were wobbly, head dizzy and you dropped to the floor.

“Bloody hell, (Y/N)! You’re bleeding!” said Newt kneeling next to you. You looked at him confuesd. “So what? Newt, didn’t you hear what I said? We have te cure. You’ll be okay”

“You literally was shot and even then, you still worry about this shuckface.” said Minho with disbelief. You just looked at blonde boy with the biggest smile despite the pain, killing you inside.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” said Newt taking the needle from your hand and putting it to the pocket. You didn’t look happy like few seconds before.

“What the hell? You have to take it, now.” you said completely ignoring Thomas and Minho who were now, breaking the big glass in front of them.

“(Y/N), are you insane? Your life is on an edge and you are asking me, to take the needle? Shouldn’t you worry about yourself first?” he said trying to stop the bleeding. Teresa slowly put you on your legs, as you had to jump.

“When you love someone more than yourself, you care about them more.” you mumbled. He just looked at you. Still, you thought, he didn’t notice..”

“Are you sure about that?” asked Minho looking at Thomas worried.

“Not really.” said boy. Newt frowned.”Great. We’re all bloody inspired”

As he said that, door opened. The four of you looked behind, you too tired to well, actually care. Then you felt youself falling down and then, into the unconsciousness.

AS YOU OPENED YOUR EYES, you were convinced that you died and are in some kind of after life. You stand and went outside. The first thing you noticed, was ocean. You smiled and walked towards it. Your mind was so mesmerized, that you didn’t notice Newt’s big smile when he saw you are awake. This time you didn’t notice. As he walked as fast as he could, to be by your side. How he ignored Minho’s snarky comment “about time, shank”. How he shoved everyone from his path, just to get to you. How his eyes were ony on you. How he sat by your side, not saying anything. How the minute he looked at you, he remembered your words about love. How he mentally punched himself in the face for not noticing your signs. Finally realizing why Gally was so pissed at him. Why Thomas smiled at him like that. Why Minho gave him speech about being slinthead. Why Frypan laughed at him. Why Brenda was smirking when she saw him heading to you.

“I know it now, love. I noticed.” he said looking at you. You were already looking at him. With those eyes. This smile. You reached his hand and interwined your fingers together.

“Thank you for saving me. For all these years.” Newt said kissing your knuckles. You chuckled.”Of course, Newt. You know I will always do that.”

He was by your side. All was well.

[langdxn]

me and my friend were in the car last night listening to old panic! and lying is the most fun came on and we both got like the bright idea of a grunge michael imagine based around that song. you’re like the only person i knew of who could write something of the sort so i figured i would request it. I love all of your writing btw 🥺🥺

Fucking HELL this one has driven me insane ever since you sent it, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long for me to get back to you! I’m so glad you thought of me for this, I’m 100% an overgrown emo so this is my favourite request I’ve had so far — thank you so so much 🖤🖤🖤

On another note — if you’d like to see more of these, drop me an emo song and a Cody character/Cody himself and I’ll write you some fluff/angst/smut! 👀

Michael’s bedroom curtains twitched curiously, luckily not enough for you to notice as you sat in the passenger seat of some jock’s car parked outside your house. His breath caught in his throat watching Jason’s lips consume yours, Jason’s grubby hands snaking around your neck as he leaned over you, Jason’s hungry eyes devouring you.

You slept with your mom’s new houseguest the first week he came to stay, late night shots and one thing leading to another ended in Michael pinning you down on your bed, tearing off your best dress and pounding into you at such a furious pace you couldn’t contain screaming the house down. But that was then. Fleeting teenage desires only meant awkward silences as you passed in the hallway every morning, flashes of stolen glances at each other not knowing how the other felt.

Michael pictured pushing him out into traffic as the cacophony of crushing metal played a symphony, slitting his throat and dancing in the fountain of blood spewing from the wound, setting his despicable hands on fire and warming his coffee over the flames, extinguishing Jason’s very soul and erasing every atom of his existence.

Michael turned away in disgust, biting his lip to distract himself from the torture outside. Scrambling to find a CD to blast in the hope he wouldn’t hear the car’s impending suspension bouncing once Jason had his way with you. Plucking out an album and slotting it into his computer, the curt slam of the car door and your heels scurrying up the driveway prompted him to crank the speakers up. With any luck, you wouldn’t burst in on a teenage boy shutting himself away in his bedroom booming Panic! at the Disco.

The music couldn’t drown out your frantic footfalls as you raced up the stairs, tentatively pausing outside Michael’s room. You knocked determinedly, huffing slightly as he took his time responding.

Is it still me that makes you sweat?

The door swung open abruptly, Michael’s raging scowl greeting you on the other side. Bursting your way through, you slammed the door behind you and steamed toward him.

Am I who you think about in bed?

“What’s this about—” Michael asked innocently before he was cut off by your lips, pulling him in for a searing kiss as you tangled your fingers in his blonde curls.

When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you slide off your dress?

“Nobody gets me but you, Michael,” you moaned against his lips as you tussled with his belt, yanking his zipper and releasing his black jeans to pool around his ankles. In turn, Michael instinctively scooped your dress over your head, whimpering softly as your lips left his.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised softly, tucking your hair behind your ear while he gazed into your eyes, losing himself all over again.

Then think of what you did and how I hope to God he was worth it

As you pressed a firm palm on his chest, Michael wrapped his arms around you as he tumbled back onto his bed, its frame creaking wearily beneath the weight of you both falling onto the sheets. Resting between his legs, you ghosted teasing fingertips over his inner thighs before settling at the base of his cock, slowly wrapping your fingers around his girth and casting a devious grin up at him.

When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin

“What about that Jason dick out there?” Michael groaned through overwhelming anticipation, fingers threading into your hair as you licked a determined stripe all the way up his length.

I’ve got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck

“Fuck him,” you hummed with your lips hovering over his tip, soft breaths instigating a gentle keek of his hips.

Than any boy you’ll ever meet, sweetie, you had me

“I thought you already did, babe.”

Payback for that comment came swiftly as you parted your lips and swooped your head down onto his length, taking him to the back of your throat in one go.

Girl, I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of exchanging body heat in the passenger seat

“Whoa—fuck, what was that for?” Michael’s hips bucked frantically, eyes wide and mouth even wider.

No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

“For implying there’s ever been anybody but you,” you snarked, wrapping your lips around his tip and sliding down his shaft slowly. Painfully slowly. Agonisingly slowly.

Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster, faster

That is, until his hands wrapped in your hair yanked you up to his face, leaving his tip with a pop. His azure blue irises pierced through yours, a newfound sadistic streak brought on by your teasing.

So testosterone boys and harlequin girls, will you dance to this beat and hold a lover close?

“I need to be inside you,” he hissed as his hips snapped to one side, flipping you over onto your back and your legs wrapped around his waist.

So, I guess we’re back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus

Blazing steamy kisses in the crook of your neck as you fell against the pillow, a curious finger wandered with purpose across your thighs and ghosted over your dampened folds. “Tell me, who owns this?”

“You… you do,” you panted, desperately keening into his touch as his tip grazed your entrance.

In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?

“And what’s my name, baby girl?”

“Daddy.”

Oh, now I do recall, we were just getting to the part

With a shit-eating grin and one swift curl of his hips, Michael poured every inch of his length through your soaking folds and seated himself fully in your cunt. The hollow sting in your guts reminded you just how deep he could reach inside you, the intoxicating burn of your walls welcoming the way he filled you, completely and utterly.

Where the shock sets in and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick

Hands cupping his face to gaze into his eyes as Michael eagerly pumped into you, you moaned loudly and he threw his hand over your mouth.

I hope you didn’t expect to get all of the attention

“No no baby, stay quiet for daddy,” he pleaded, smoothly curling his hips to slip inside you without a sound but the faint orgasmic slapping of skin as his balls collided with your ass. “You don’t want your mom to hear us, do you?”

Now let’s not get selfish, did you really think I’d let you kill this chorus?

“You know my mom couldn’t care less what we do,” you chuckled against his palm, rutting your hips upwards demanding more tantalising friction.

Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster, faster

“We’ll find out about that first hand in a moment if you don’t shush for me,” he pressed his hand firmly to your lips, an eyebrow cocked curiously as he pistoned his length against your quivering walls.

So testosterone boys and harlequin girls, will you dance to this beat and hold a lover close?

Rolling your eyes, you conceded to his orders just this once. After all, if he continued his languid thrusts much longer, you’d be spilling all over his flushed cock in a matter of minutes.

Dance to this beat, dance to this beat, dance to this beat

“Michael?” You questioned lightly as he murmured a throwaway affirmation. “What would you have done if I’d fucked Jason?

I’ve got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck

“I’d burn him til there weren’t even ashes remaining,” he answered without hesitation, picking up the pace of his thrusts and revelling in the blissful arch of your back, pressing your chest intimately against his.

Than any boy you’ll ever meet, sweetie, you had me

You shot him a confused glance, answered with Michael’s lips swooping down to consume yours, tongue invading your mouth with fervour.

Girl, I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of exchanging body heat in the passenger seat

As you surfaced for air, you could’ve sworn his baby blues bled into black for a split second.

No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

“You really mean that?” You smiled warmly, ankles digging into his thighs to draw him deeper into your cunt.

Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster, faster

“More than—than anything,” he panted as his eyes journeyed to the ceiling, feeling every fervent twitch of your walls crumbled around him. Delicate waves of arousal flowed freely inside you, introducing an obscene wet smacking sound accompanying his every stuttering motion.

So testosterone boys and harlequin girls, dance to this beat and hold a lover close

“Prove it,” you demanded as both hands wound around his neck with the last of your diminishing energy, vision clouding and blurring the flawless image of the blonde towering over you, arms propping himself up on the pillow either side of your hair.

Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster, faster. Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster.

“How can I do that?” Michael’s curiosity sparked a return to his frenetic pounding into your walls, a sensory onslaught helping you ride out your orgasm while he chased his.

“Cum inside me, daddy.”

[imagines-tmr]

imagine #25

character - Minho

words - 1710

warnings - n/a

description - AU where you’re the only female member of the Royal Guard and Prince Minho likes you.

a/n - requested anonymously; this is my first time trying to write a maze runner au, so it took some effort to come up with a decent foundation for the request. this is like a modern royal au, with all the technology of the maze runner universe, except there’s a royal hierarchy. also, this is super long omg i’m so sorry

Working for the Royal Guard was not as bad as people made it out to be. It seemed to be a common understanding between anyone working for the Palace that being a member of the Royal Guard was the least favourable job one could be assigned, despite the high pay. There were many things you’ve heard guards complain about: the odd, numerous hours; the constant austerity; the solitude; and above all, the Prince. Every single one of these complaints seemed unwarranted to you — except the latter.

Prince Minho could be insufferable at times. He was handsome, without a doubt, and incredibly intelligent — there was no way he would have been chosen as the Heir had he not been. Out of the few selected candidates, he’d been the only one to show all the qualities of a future King of the Glade. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he had it out for you and you didn’t know why. You were a good soldier, having advanced in your ranks faster than most. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so competent at your job. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been assigned to protect the Prince and could have saved yourself from Minho’s constant tormenting.

He would always try to get you alone, teasing you endlessly and doing everything possible to get under your skin. He always seemed to get such a kick out of it. It was a personal goal of his to get you flustered whenever he could. It would have been fine if he were anyone else — you might even have indulged him — but he was the Prince and you were anything but royalty.

You were situated at your post, outside the doors to his private parlour, one of the two guards on duty. Another soldier, Gally, was on shift with you. The two of you hadn’t exactly gotten along when you’d first gotten promoted; he’d thought of you as weak simply because you were a girl. But after an attack in the dead of night by several Cranks during which you’d single-handedly taken out every assailant, Gally’s level of respect for you grew instantaneously.

Unfortunately, that had also been the incident that had drawn Minho’s attention to you.

“What time is it?” you asked, trying your best to stifle a yawn.

Gally glanced swiftly at his watch and then repositioned his hands behind his back in a stiff stance. “Two-thirty,” he replied. “Half-an-hour left, and then we’re good.”

You hated being scheduled to work nights but it made sense. Crank attacks didn’t happen during the day.

“What are they even doing?” you continued, jerking your chin towards the parlour. “They’ve been in there for hours.”

“No shucking clue,” he shrugged. “Probably trying to map out the Scorch. The recon team came back this afternoon.”

You nodded, though your understanding of the kingdom’s dynamics were limited. Everything was on a need-to-know basis and apparently, this was not something you’d ever needed to know.

A few minutes later, the parlour’s metal doors slid open with a hiss and two boys walked out, a brunet and a blond, the latter sporting a subtle limp. You recognized them as Minho’s advisors, Thomas and Newt. They were clad in black like most of the Palace staff were, with dark circles adorning their under-eyes.

“Minho wants to see you,” Newt said, his accent thick with fatigue.

As the boys disappeared down the fluorescently lit hallway, Gally unsuccessfully tried to hide his snicker.

“Duty calls, shank,” he teased.

“Slim it,” you muttered. Drawing in a deep breath, you entered the parlour, the metal doors sliding shut behind you.

Minho didn’t adhere to the all-black dress code. Instead, he wore grey jeans and a dark blue button-down, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose toned forearms. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them but you were still taken aback by how attractive they looked — how attractive he looked. He was pouring over some hand-drawn maps at a round metal table, a pencil in his hand. He, too, had dark circles under his eyes.

You cleared your throat to announce your arrival, though you knew very well he was already aware of your presence. He was always aware of you.

“(Y/N),” he greeted, his face lighting up with a cheeky grin. “Wow, sleep deprivation looks really good on you.”

You smiled through tight lips, furiously thinking about the glorious paycheck that was awaiting the end of your shift.

“Likewise,” you said. “So, how come you aren’t sleeping?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged. “Royal duties.”

“You’re going to overwork yourself to death.”

Minho’s grin widened. “Does that mean you care about me, (Y/N)?” He tossed his pencil onto the table and moved closer.

You struggled to keep your voice even. “No, it’s just that if you die on my shift, I’m going to have to do a lot of paperwork.”

He rolled his eyes and motioned to a chair by the table. “Make yourself at home,” he said. The idea seemed so out of reach to you — the Palace would never be your home. Sure, you slept in the bunkers like every other guard, but there was nothing homey about it. It wasn’t a place where you could ever put down roots.

Nevertheless, you took a seat. It wasn’t as comfortable as you’d imagined it would be, which surprised you; you thought the Prince would have a more comfortable environment than he did.

The more you looked around the parlour, the more you realized that it was the wrong word to call it.  A parlour was supposed to be opulent and inviting. Minho’s was grey and dark and unwelcoming, with the same fluorescent light fixtures as in the corridor outside. There was no personality to it — nothing that screamed Minho — and was clinically void of non-essentials. Back in the day, future kings would be living in lush and opulent castles with ornate wallpapers and chandeliers and mounds of colour, not this bunker they had the audacity to call the Palace.

“Relax, sunshine,” he said. “You’re so stiff all the time. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let any Cranks break in here and hurt you.”

You frowned and scoffed. “Oh, please. Big help you were last time. Yelling that you were going to, quote, kick their shucking ass, is not much of an achievement.”

It was easy to be informal around him; he didn’t enforce his title as a Royal the way you’d seen previous leaders do. He took the requirements of his job seriously but not the reverence. 

“Well, if I did all the work, you would be out of a job,” he joked.

“And what a shame that would be.”

You hadn’t meant to come across as bitter, but there was a flicker of hurt on Minho’s face.

“You don’t have to keep guarding me,” he said, sharply. “If you really don’t like it, I’ll have them assign you somewhere else, with the same pay-grade.”

The offer was tempting. It would probably mean no more odd hours, no more having to deal with randomly orchestrated attacks, and you’d still get the same financial compensation. But the thought of not having to deal with Minho made you uneasy. He couldn’t be right, could he? Did you actually care about him?

“I’m alright,” you said, lowering your gaze.

Minho’s smile came back at full force. “I knew it. I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, right.” He swatted the air dismissively. “That’s okay. It’ll be our little secret. No one has to know you have a crush on me.”

A spasm of panic bubbled in your chest. A crush? Your first instinct was to deny it. You were a soldier. You were unimportant in the hierarchy of the Glade, just a pawn, albeit a well-paid one, that was ready to lay their life down on the line to keep the peace. While you weren’t prohibited from starting a family or settling down, the last person you could ever do that with was the Prince.

Minho would probably end up marrying someone like Teresa, the pretty brunette ambassador you sometimes saw at council meetings — someone with a political relation to the Glade. Definitely not someone like you. The only role you had in his life was to protect him with yours.

“It’s not professional for me to talk about this,” you said, hoping he’d drop the subject. He didn’t.

“So you don’t deny it,” he noted. Minho braced himself on the armrests of your chair, his face awfully close to yours. The faint scent of his cologne was intoxicating.

“Minho, please,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging him for.

He feigned innocence. “Please what?”

“Stop playing with me,” you said. “At the end of the day, you’re a Prince and I’m just a guard.”

“It’s just a political title,” he replied. “It only governs what I do for the Glade, not what I do for myself.”

“So what are you saying?”

“You can’t be this shucking oblivious.” Minho shook his head. “Come on, (Y/N), you’re smart. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. You can figure it out.”

The thing was, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you didn’t want to let yourself believe in the possibility of a future together.

“I—” Your breath faltered as Minho closed the distance between you, his mouth feverish on yours. He tasted like a mistake, all sweet and warm and beautiful, one you were suddenly very ready to pay for. When he moved away to look at you, there was an affection in his eyes that you swore no one else had held for you.

“I’ve been shucked and gone to heaven,” he laughed. “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

With newfound confidence in your veins, you straightened and looked him dead in the eye. “I think we need to do that again to find out,” you answered. Minho grinned in reply and kissed you again.

When three o’clock rolled around and your shift came to an end, you didn’t leave the parlour like you were supposed to. In fact, you didn’t leave at all.

Not until morning.

[svtskneecaps]

that damn need to please

Group/Member: Seventeen’s Wen Junhui

Words: 1558

Hogwarts AU

ok admittedly i’m not super super confident in this one but in my defense the request was just ‘Slytherin!Jun x Hufflepuff!reader’ and this is what happened. creative liberties and all that. it’s a one shot so understandably there’s not much buildup. sorry, probably a disappointment, but hey it’s long enough to meet the word count for a Written Assignment so now i can hate myself for being able to crank this out in two sittings but the other thing took like a decade and a half.

@letsseehowhappyyouare

sorry in advance here we go

Main Masterlist

You were tired.

Tired with a capital T, tired with a ™. Just- so tired.

It was the need to please, you decided. That damn need to please. And that damn Slytherin.

You were no fool. Stereotypes didn’t mean shit, you were an example. Hufflepuffs were supposed to be like the good Christian kids with a plate of cookies or whatever. Like Santa’s elves or something. Rosy cheeked and bright eyed. Meanwhile you slung curse words and downed energy drinks like you’d die if you didn’t get another sip with eye bags deep enough to carry groceries and a great death stare. That was the Ravenclaw archetype.

But this Slytherin?

Maybe you just didn’t know him well enough, but he purported like the stereotype that everyone had latched onto in the 1980s or whatever. Latched onto hardcore. You’re talking smirking, the vaguely holier-than-thou brand of confidence, the works. If you added a bit of a blood purity complex then the only thing keeping him from being the next Draco Malfoy would be the fact that he actually looked hot as a platinum blond but if anyone asked you’d immediately deny ever thinking it.

And maybe it was the damn need to please that made you so fluttery and frustrated. The damn need to please that said you should befriend the guy, who’d made it very clear that he was very much satisfied with his current crew and didn’t want jack from anybody, friendship at the forefront.

You’d noticed a commonality in your problems and almost all of them stemmed from your need to please. You were gonna throw that out, you swore.

“Why are you giving your chicken a death stare?” Soonyoung teased.

“It offended me,” you deadpanned, jabbing at it with a fork and missing, the prongs hitting the plate with an angry screech.

“No really.”

You dropped the fork, tangling your hands in your hair. “We got assigned new patrol routes this morning. I got one of the real late routes, starting tonight.”

Wonwoo clicked his tongue. “This is why I didn’t want to be a prefect.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Seokmin said optimistically. “You always say you’re a night owl.”

“Yeah but I do my homework at that time of night.” You sighed. “But that’s not all. I do part of the route with Junhui.”

“He’s not that bad.” Wonwoo rolled his eyes.

“The problem isn’t what he is, it’s what he acts like.” You dropped your head onto the table, narrowly missing a plate of mashed potatoes. “He could be the nicest damn guy on the planet underneath all the snark, but that’s still beneath the snark and I swear to god I don’t have the mental energy for the snark or for digging through the snark.”

“So don’t talk to him.”

“I also don’t have the mental energy for that.” You picked your head up a little and slammed it back down, making the silverware jump.

“How does not talking to someone take mental energy?”

“Cause then I’ll start dwelling on how quiet it is and how I’m obviously not doing my job because one hundred percent I took the whole beginning school welcoming thing way too serious and now I’m in too deep with the helpful Hufflepuff attitude.”

“You could say,” Hansol started, leaning in with a sly grin, “that the helpful Hufflepuff is harmful.”

You didn’t even look up.

The crack of fucking dawn came before you knew it. You were doing your homework in the Hufflepuff Common Room by the dying fire when the alarm you’d set for yourself went off. Loudly.

You fell out of your chair trying to shut it off.

Still lacing up your shoes you all but fell out the entrance, the barrel lid closing behind you. You probably looked like a mess, since you’d requested a neck breather to keep you on task and Soonyoung’s methods of getting you on track involved throwing things, or as he called it, practicing for his OWLs. You were pretty sure using the Banishing Charm to throw pillows and occasionally you across the room wasn’t actually going to be on the OWLs, but you digress.

Jun was waiting at the entrance to the Great Hall, none too patiently. Well, good for him. You were celebrating the little victories. Maybe you weren’t quite on time but you hadn’t tripped on the way up the stairs, so hey, that was a win in your book.

“Glad you decided to show up,” he said. Honestly, you were kind of surprised by the inflection. You were expecting Sharpay Evans but. . . you were pretty sure there was a hint of sincerity in there. Somewhere.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you answered, a bit more stiff than you intended, but whatever.

He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s a tone and a half.”

“Thought it was high time I joined the club.” You shoved your hands into your pockets. “You have a tone issue, I’ve got a tone issue, even the score board.”

You caught him smiling, though he was obviously trying to suppress it. “That didn’t make a bit of sense.”

“Guess we know why I’m not a Ravenclaw,” you joked.

Silence fell, and you dragged your shoe awkwardly across the tiles.

“We gonna do this or wait until the sun comes up?” Jun finally asked.

“I don’t know, sunrise sounds good to me,” you deadpanned, but started walking anyway.

And patrols kind of. . . continued like that. You’d be lowkey flustered and awkward (because that damn need to please) and he’d act all collected, until somehow purely by accident you’d wear him down and suddenly he’d be cracking up at you. Like the time you were walking the Charms corridor and Peeves knocked something over and you emitted a very unflattering squeak and blew the classroom door open, completely on accident. Apparently Jun found that hilarious, and adorable, in his words even you blushed for the next thirty minutes. Every patrol he got softer faster and stayed that way longer and honestly you had no idea how you’d even been alive before seeing this boy in a laughing fit. You weren’t sure how you were alive after either..

But the weird part was, he stayed the same during the day. He didn’t say hi in the halls, or class, or the library, or in the Great Hall. You’d make eye contact and he’d just look away. Like okay Junie B, two can play at that game, and you could respect his boundaries. If he’d prefer to keep the friendship (if that was what it was) under wraps, you were cool with that.

Kind of.

You were cool with it but that didn’t mean you weren’t curious.

“Hey Jun,” you started, finally getting up your nerve like a month later, “we’re cool, right?”

He glanced at you. “What do you mean? Course we’re cool. Why?”

You shrugged, trying not to let on your blazing insecurity. “I dunno. Just, you never talk to me outside of the routes. I mean, I totally get if it’s just a convenience friendship, but- I dunno.”

“No, no way, it’s not that,” he promised, without hesitation. “Just-” He stopped. It took a couple corridors for him to find the thought, but he got it. “My friends would tease you,” he said. “And trust me, you don’t want that.”

You snorted. “Why do I find it hard to believe that anyone can tease me worse than BooSeokSoon.”

“Trust me, you’ve never seen Yoon Jeonghan when faced with romantic tension.” Jun rolled his eyes with a laugh. “He pestered Mingyu nonstop for months.”

“Romantic tension?” You got stuck on that part. Probably it would be safer to just go down the path of Mingyu’s relationship, but you were also going to eat yourself for every meal for the next month if you didn’t investigate the first bit, so whatever.

He looked like he suddenly registered what he’d said. “Um- yeah.”

“We have romantic tension,” you repeated, processing.

He sighed. “Okay I wanted to admit this in a better way, but- I have a massive crush on you.” He lifted his hands and stepped away. You suddenly registered you’d stopped walking. “There. I said it.”

You squinted at him. “How are you so at ease admitting that.”

He shrugged, somewhat awkwardly. “Been stewing over a confession for awhile?” he admitted.

“No really,” you said. “How. Because I’ve had a crush on you for like- a while and not once did I imagine any confession coming out of my mouth that sounds as graceful as that one.”

He got this cute little smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m a mess.” You ran your hands through your hair in agitation, before glancing up. “Oh wait, you meant the crush bit.”

He nodded, still with that same little smile.

“Not the confession delivery bit.”

He nodded.

You fought the urge to charm yourself and run for it. It was a convincing option. Literally the one thing keeping you there was the fact that he’d gone first. And. . . it was requited.

Holy shit, it was requited!

“So,” Jun said, abruptly snapping you back, “there’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend. Should we make it a date?”

You beamed. “Sure thing.”

You could weather the teasing if it meant you saw his smile more often.