#Secret Admirer

[xtaleunderverse]

Drawing that Valentine's post on my phone while being sick with a high fever and shivering in bed didn't do justice to Cross' secret admirer. I got sick again ʰᵉˡᵖ but I managed to make a decent silhouette this time since the first one was bothering me quite a bit. Enjoy, nerds

[sharkk1t]

i really like to think that Heavy admire Medic

Edit: naaah I forgot to paint the white part of the heavy shirt XD

[latenightreadingpdf]

Beneath the Moonlight - Remus Lupin

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the days leading up to a full moon, Remus Lupin receives an anonymous gift basket filled with potions, chocolates, and a carefully-brewed Wolfsbane Potion.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Y/N considered herself a rather observant student, especially when it came to the Marauders. It was hard not to notice them, really. They were practically a four-person parade through the halls of Hogwarts—pranks, laughter, and charm trailing behind them like a comet's tail. James Potter with his messy hair and endless attempts to impress Lily Evans, Sirius Black with his dazzling grin and effortless cool, Peter Pettigrew following close, always eager to please. But one Marauder stood out to her more than the rest. Remus Lupin.

There was something about him that had Y/N hooked from the beginning. Perhaps it was his quiet brilliance or the way he seemed to carry a world of mysteries in those warm, honey-colored eyes. Or maybe, it was the way new scars seemed to appear on his face and hands every so often, faint but unmistakable. They fascinated her, those scars, and as her gaze lingered on him in class or at meals, she found herself trying to figure him out.

And, admittedly, somewhere along the way, Y/N developed a bit of a crush on him. But who wouldn’t? He was brilliant, always top of the class without trying too hard, and—and yes, he was gorgeous. Handsome in that annoyingly effortless way. Soft, tousled hair that practically begged to be touched, sharp cheekbones, and—Merlin, those knit jumpers that always made him look so adorable. How was that fair? It was like he’d been sculpted by some benevolent god of tall, bookish, sweater-loving dream boys.

But Y/N’s interest in him was more than just attraction. There was something… otherworldly about him. She’d started to notice patterns—how he would seem worn and pale every few weeks, how he would disappear entirely from school grounds for a day or two, only to return looking exhausted and, if possible, even more scarred than before.

A month ago, after endless speculation and careful observation, Y/N had arrived at a conclusion: Remus Lupin was probably a werewolf. She wasn’t completely certain; it was more of an educated guess. But what could she do with this theory? It wasn’t like she could walk up to him and blurt out, “Hey, Remus! You don’t know me, but I’ve been watching you for months, and I just wanted to ask, are you, by any chance, a werewolf?”

The thought alone made her cringe. Y/N sighed, tapping her quill against her parchment. Remus Lupin might be full of mysteries and maybe—just maybe—she’d get the courage to actually talk to him someday.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The full moon was only a few days away, and Y/N could already see the toll it was taking on Remus. He was limping slightly, a stiffness in his stride that made her heart ache, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t been sleeping in days, and though she knew he had his friends—the Marauders, always fiercely loyal—she couldn’t help but feel he needed more comfort than they could provide. She wanted to do something for him, something small but meaningful.

The idea hit her while she was rummaging through her bag in the library: an anonymous get-well-soon basket. She could leave it outside his dorm, a collection of little comforts to ease the days leading up to his transformation. She’d make sure it was subtle, not too personal, just enough to lift his spirits without drawing attention.

Excitement and nerves mixed in her stomach as she mentally listed what she’d need. A couple potions to help with sleep, pain, and anxiety, some of Honeydukes' finest chocolate, a soft blanket to keep him warm, and a few baked goods from the kitchen elves. She might even add a small note with a simple message—“Hope these bring you a bit of comfort during the full moon. Take care of yourself.”

Over the next couple of days, Y/N carefully gathered everything. She bought him a midnight-blue wool blanket that felt like a hug in fabric form and a variety of different chocolates. She used her advanced potion skills to make Murtlap Essence, a Calming Draught, and a Healing Potion.

But the most important addition was a small bottle of Wolfsbane Potion. She’d somehow managed to get her hands on the recipe, even though it wasn’t officially taught at Hogwarts—and she’d acquired a secret stash of the rare ingredients needed to brew it, though she'd never admit where from. It had taken several nights of brewing in the abandoned classroom she’d found, but she’d done it.

The full moon was only two days away when she finished assembling the basket, carefully placing the note on top before leaving it right outside the boys' dormitory. With a final glance over her handiwork, she quickly walked back to her dorm, satisfied with her work.

As she returned to her room, a little thrill of satisfaction bubbled within her. Maybe, just maybe, her small gesture would help Remus feel a little less alone, a little less burdened by the full moon’s approach. And that thought alone was enough to fill her with quiet joy.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Just a few floors below, the Marauders were still lounging in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across chairs and couches as the fire crackled low. They’d spent hours discussing pranks, arguing about the latest Quidditch match, and bickering about everything from Potions homework to the best way to dodge Filch. When the last embers started to die, they finally decided it was time to call it a night.

As they made their way up the stairs, it was James who first spotted the basket. He froze mid-step, eyebrows raised as he pointed it out. "Er, lads... anyone know what this is?"

The other boys crowded around, peering down at the unexpected sight.

“No clue,” Peter murmured, squinting at the note resting on top.

Sirius, with his usual curiosity, leaned down and plucked up the note, inspecting it with a grin before his eyes gleamed mischievously. “Ooooooh, Remus, it’s for you!” he cooed, reading the note aloud for the group: ‘Hope these bring you a bit of comfort during the full moon. Take care of yourself.’

The boys’ faces all fell at once. Whoever had left this knew. Someone had figured it out. Their carefully crafted excuses, the timing of their sneaking around, all the little tricks they’d come up with—they thought it was foolproof. But apparently, someone had been watching more closely than they’d realized.

Without another word, they grabbed the basket, exchanging uneasy glances as they rushed into the dormitory, shutting the door firmly behind them. They gathered around Remus’s bed, where James set the basket down, and just stared at it.

“Well? Open it already!” James urged, his voice a mix of curiosity, excitement, and a tinge of concern.

Remus took a steadying breath. His friends were watching him closely as he slowly lifted the wrapping, half-expecting some kind of prank to burst out at him. But instead, he found an assortment of thoughtful items neatly arranged within the basket. A stack of Honeydukes chocolates, carefully tied together with string. A blanket, dark blue and soft, lay folded at the side. Several small bottles—potions, each labeled with precision, sat in the center, cushioned by tissue paper.

They all scanned the contents in awe and curiosity, but Sirius was the first to notice something unusual. He gasped, eyes widening as he pointed to one particular bottle.

“Holy shit, is that—”

“Wolfsbane,” Remus finished quietly, staring at the vial with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

They all fell silent, taking in the implications of that single bottle. Wolfsbane Potion was incredibly complex, nearly impossible for a student to brew, and yet here it was—crafted, sealed, and ready for him. Someone had not only figured out his secret but had gone to lengths far beyond casual concern. The potion’s presence in the basket hinted at more than just kindness; it was a deeply personal gesture, an unspoken understanding that spoke volumes.

Remus swallowed hard, his fingers brushing the cool glass of the bottle. "Did the card say who it was from?" he asked, looking over at Sirius, who shrugged and handed him the note again.

Remus read the short message over and over, searching for any hidden clues, some hint that might give away the sender. But the note was short, simple, and entirely anonymous. He turned it over, checked for invisible ink, even held it up to the light, but there was nothing.

“Not a single hint?” James murmured, peering over his shoulder, a frown deepening across his face. “Nothing?”

The group exchanged baffled glances. They examined the basket once more, handling each item carefully to make sure nothing seemed dangerous. The potions were labeled clearly and accurately, the chocolate smelled rich and sweet, and the blanket was incredibly soft—perfect for a night when he’d be feeling cold and drained. Every item seemed genuine, carefully chosen, with not a hint of a prank or hex.

As they finished examining the basket, they slowly started getting ready for bed. Remus sat quietly on his bed, his mind racing as he took in the kindness of it all. He tucked the potions into his bedside drawer, hiding the chocolate where he knew Sirius wouldn’t be able to steal it, and spread the blanket over his bed. It was soft, warmer than his own, and the weight of it settled over him like a quiet comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

Sliding under the blanket, Remus felt a warmth blooming in his chest. Someone out there knew his secret, but instead of using it against him, they’d tried to make things a little easier. And he knew, without question, that he had to figure out who it was.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The full moon had passed in a calm that Remus had never experienced before. He woke that morning still feeling sore, but the aches were manageable. Normally, the transformations left him scarred and hollow, as if all the energy and warmth had been drained from him, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. But this time, thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion and the potions from the basket, he felt… human. Less broken.

After seeing the other Marauders off to class, Remus leaned back into his bed, feeling the softness of the new blanket wrap around him like a gentle hug. He’d spent the morning drinking one of the calming potions, using the healing salve for his aches, and nibbling on a bit of chocolate to ease his nerves. And though he was grateful, he couldn’t shake the strange blend of curiosity and unease that swirled in his mind. Who knew? Who cared this much? The secrecy felt like a burden, yet he couldn’t help but feel a small glow of warmth every time he glanced at the basket.

Meanwhile, James, Sirius, and Peter were trying to answer that very question in their own way. During Potions, they’d had an idea. Whoever had brewed Wolfsbane Potion had to be incredibly skilled, so finding out who had the best marks in Potions could narrow things down. The second Slughorn dismissed them, they pounced.

Sirius leaned casually on Slughorn’s desk, grinning with exaggerated innocence. “Professor,” he began, “say I wanted to improve my Potions skills. Just hypothetically.”

Slughorn’s eyebrows lifted, clearly intrigued by Sirius’s unusual interest. “Oh? Well, it’s about time, Mr. Black. I’d say your marks could certainly use a bit of boosting.”

“Oh, I know, I know!” Sirius waved his hands, laughing a bit. “That’s exactly why I was thinking maybe a bit of tutoring could help. So… who would you say is the top student in your class?”

James sidled up next to him, nodding earnestly. “Yeah, Professor. Who’s the best at brewing?”

Slughorn looked delighted, his chest puffing with pride at the idea of his Gryffindor students taking a sudden interest in his class. He lowered his voice as though he were sharing a prized secret. “Ah, if you’re looking for someone with real talent, you’d want to speak with Y/N Y/L/N. A truly gifted student! Absolutely meticulous with her brewing, and a Gryffindor as well! You boys ought to know her.”

Sirius and James exchanged baffled glances. “Y/N Y/L/N?” James muttered, frowning in thought.

Peter piped up, looking a little surprised. “Oh, I remember her. We did a project together in second year. She’s very sweet. I suppose she’s easy to miss, always keeping to herself.”

“Right…” Sirius trailed off, scratching his chin. “Doesn’t sound like the type to be sneaking around in the dead of night to drop off mysterious gift baskets, does she?”

“People can surprise you,” Peter shrugged. “I bet she’s got her reasons.”

After classes were over, the three Marauders nearly sprinted back to the dormitory. They’d waited all day to tell Remus their findings, and as soon as they saw him, they launched right into it.

“So,” Sirius said, flopping dramatically onto Remus’s bed, “we might know who left the basket.”

Remus looked up, eyebrows raised, though he tried to appear casual. “Really?”

James nodded, practically bouncing with excitement. “Y/N Y/L/N. Slughorn says she’s his top student in Potions. And she’s a Gryffindor, so she’d know where to find us.”

The name caught Remus off guard. “Y/N Y/L/N?” He knew exactly who she was—quiet, always hanging at the edges of things, never drawing attention to herself. He remembered her from their earlier years, especially a few years back when she and Peter had done that project together. She’d been kind and incredibly smart, but she always seemed to fade into the background.

Sirius shot him a curious look. “Wait—do you actually know her?”

Remus hesitated, carefully picking his words. “I mean… I remember her. We’ve been in classes together since first year.”

But what he didn’t say was that he’d once felt drawn to her quiet kindness. She wasn’t like other students; there was a thoughtfulness to her, a gentle intelligence that had always intrigued him. He remembered her now, the shy girl who had somehow made him feel seen, and the idea that she might have left the basket stirred something inside him—a mix of hope and nerves.

Sirius smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “Oh, you remember her, do you?”

Remus rolled his eyes, trying to hide his blush. “Look, it’s probably not her. There’s no way she’d still remember… I mean, we barely ever talked.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Barely ever talked? That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t care. Besides,” he added with a grin, “you clearly want it to be her.”

Remus glanced away, not trusting himself to deny it. Because if it really was Y/N… she’d have gone to extraordinary lengths just to help him. It would mean she knew his secret and, rather than fearing him, had quietly found a way to ease his burden. And perhaps the most surprising part? He found himself hoping it was her.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Alright. I’ll talk to her. See if there’s anything to this theory of yours.”

The next morning, with a hint of apprehension and excitement, Remus set out to find her. He decided to look in the library first, where he thought she might be studying between classes. But as he crossed the common room, he spotted her in the far corner, curled up in a chair with a thick book on her lap.

He took a steadying breath and made his way over to her. She looked up, clearly surprised to see him, her eyes widening as he gave a small, nervous smile.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Do you mind if I join you?”

She blinked, a little flustered, but nodded, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Um, of course, Remus.”

They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a moment, and Remus could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He cleared his throat, feeling the weight of her attention on him.

“So… I, uh, wanted to thank you,” he started, not sure how to bring it up. “For… everything.”

She stiffened slightly, her cheeks flushing, but kept her gaze steady. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied quietly.

He watched her, seeing the faintest hint of a smile playing at her lips, and knew then, without a doubt, that she was the one. “The gift basket. The potions. The blanket.” He lowered his voice. “The Wolfsbane. It helped me… more than I can say.”

Her face softened, and she nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I’m… really glad to hear that. I just wanted you to have what you needed. It’s not easy going through all that on your own.”

Remus felt his heart swell. Here she was, fully aware of the truth and yet sitting here, calm and kind, accepting him exactly as he was.

He met her gaze, feeling a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in ages. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I did to deserve that kind of kindness from you, but… it means a lot.”

They sat there in a comfortable silence, the unspoken words passing between them, understanding filling the space. He knew he’d found a friend in her—someone who saw through the mask he wore and had chosen to help, not out of pity, but because she understood what it meant to care quietly, deeply, and without expectation.

And perhaps, he thought with a hint of warmth, this was only the beginning of something much deeper.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ this is kinda rushed sorry, school is killing me :P

[chiasfeu]

as a retired ff writer ive come out of hibernation bc the lack of smallville clark kent ffs is unacceptable tom welling is toooooo fine

sorry for all the grammatical errors i wrote this all at once and didn’t reread

part two

SECRET ADMIRER - clark kent x reader

Fumbling the lock of your locker, you sigh; you were on your fifth day at smallville high school and you weren’t ecstatic to say the least. After your dad had gotten into some legal trouble with LutherCorp your family had to move out of Metropolis to somewhere more safe.. more remote. Adjusting to the rural life of smallville had proven to be difficult and the people seemed strange. Slamming a fist against your locker you try again, meticulously turning the lock of the locker. Click. As you open the doors of the locker, a piece of paper slowly falls out.

Picking it up you read your name in bright red across the folded up piece of paper, you smile to yourself thinking, my very own secret admirer..

Maybe smallville won’t be so boring.

—————

Sipping on your coffee, you annotate your copy of the scarlet letter for English class. “Hey! y/n right?” A friendly voice calls out. You look up from your book, smiling. “Yeah! you must be Lana?” She nods, “I see your getting ready for the English exam, you need any help?” You glance at your book before starting, “I’m good for now.. I’ll let you know if I have any questions!” She smiles again before turning away to walk back behind the counter. Your eyes follow her as she talks to the costumers by the counter, they look familiar— a blonde girl with short wispy hair, and two other guys beside her.

You almost jump out of your own seat when you lock eyes with one of the boys, has he been looking at me this whole time? You think, embarrassed, quickly focusing on your book again. Although you’ve looked away you can still feel his gaze lingering on you.

“Hi.” You’re startled as you hear the voice, looking up at the boy that was staring at you from across the room. Before you can reply he starts, “You’re in my first period Bio class.. you know.. with Jenkins..” You blink, waiting for him to continue. He gulps, “uh well Jenkins is really tough.. and we have our first quiz next class so I was wondering if you would want any help….?” You smile sweetly, what is it with small town folks being so eager to help out? “Yeah I would really like that actually,” He smiles, almost in a relived way. “Great. You’re actually my new neighbor so I’ll just come over to help out,” He says before turning away. You cock your head to the side before saying, “Wait.” He turns around, facing towards you, “I never got your name,” you say.

“Clark Kent.”

—————

You’re sitting on your bed as you peer up at Clark while he explains how to convert moles into grams, “So you’re going to divide the number of particles by Avogrados number..” You yawn tuning him out, your eyes fall the paper that slipped out of your locker earlier today. I still haven’t read that note. You grab the note, opening it up, “y/n are you listening to me.” He says clearly frustrated. “Sorry Clark..” you say apologetically smiling, he notices the paper in your hands and nervously looks back up at you. “What is that?” He says, shifting around in his seat, looking intently at your face. You smile lightly, giggling, “It’s a letter from my secret admirer.” He visibly relaxes, “Oh.. I take it you like having one?” You nod shrugging, “makes smallville a lot more interesting than it could be.” He fake winces, “Smallville is a lot more interesting than you think.” You raise your eyebrows unconvinced, “Really? You’ll have to show me what’s so ‘interesting’ one day.” He smiles glancing down, “Maybe I will.”

You look at Clark’s notebook and your eyebrows furrow, the handwriting looking strikingly similar to the one in the note you found this morning. “Clark..” “Hm?” He looks up at you, “Do you possibly happen to know whoever wrote me that note?” He scratches his head, “No? Why would I?…” You shrug, “Just curious..” He awkwardly smiles before writing in his notebook again. You shift your position on your bed, scooting closer to him, “Clark, it’s ok you can tell me if you do know…” you bring your hand to his exposed forearm caressing it. He coughs before breathlessly stating, “I really don’t know who wrote it, y/n.” You push up against him, drawing circles up his arms, “Hm.. that really is too bad..” He swallows dryly, “yeah?” You nod slowly, “yeahhh.. I would’ve gone along with everything they wrote in that letter..” There’s a moment of silence as he looks at you. He shuts his eyes, sighing hard before confessing, “I wrote it.”

You grin mischeviously, running a hand through his hair, “You really didn’t have to lie, Clark..” He opens his eyes to look at you, his cheeks red from embarrassment, “y/n” “hmm?” You hum, tilting your head bringing your lips closer to his. He glances at them, sighing heavily before parting his lips to say something. He’s cut off by you pressing your lips against his, you feel his body relax into yours, his hands sliding up your back and his lips pushing deeper into the kiss. You pull away from the kiss, your hands holding Clark’s head; using your thumb you wipe lipstick off of Clark’s swollen lips as he looks at you longingly.

Yoau press your lips together, suppressing a giggle, “Hmm it’s getting late.. how about we pick back up tomorrow?”

[introvertedx10]

[mysicklove]

Does baby bro yuji get jealous over sukuna and readers affection towards each other (kissing, hugging, etc.), or is he generally unbothered?

Love this series btw <3

he doesn’t mind it…to an extent. he likes seeing you guys affectionate with another, but also after like 2 minutes of it, he is 100% trying to include himself too. gets super whiny when sukuna tries to leave him out and will paw at you until he gets praised and coddled too.

he sees you two cuddling on the couch? he is running to insert himself right in between you two. kissing one another in greeting or goodbye? he is closing his eyes and tilting his face until you press a kiss to his cheek. he sees you combing through sukunas hair? he is grabbing your other hand and placing it on his head to pet him too

there are a couple of exceptions to that tho. one is when is when sukuna locks the door on the two of you. yuuji will knock and cry at your door until you let him, not liking the idea of missing being cuddled (even if that’s NOT what you are doing). the second is when he is laying with you and sukuna kicks him out of his spot. gets the boy so worked up (+ surprisingly angry) because he was so comfortable, and he nearly has a temper tantrum until Sukuna places him back in your lap, pinches his cheek, and tells him to calm down.

the both of them are incredibly physically affectionate, so there r always going to be moments when the two of them fight for attention lololol. but yuuji is usually reasonable for a toddler, sukuna is not.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[averyakuma]

Secret Admirer

Pairing - Alastor X fem! Reader

Plot - Fluff, building up friendship, secret admirer, physical contact? 🫢

A/N - I’m either gonna cringe so bad at this prompt or really like it 😁 also I cannot sleep it’s almost 2am 😪😢

It’s has been only a couple of months ever since Charlie brought you in to stay and work at the Hazbin Hotel, and let’s say you felt home sweet home.

Even though you were still adjusting to the new place over all, it was definitely better than staying with roommates who wouldn’t even pay for their part of the rent, you were scrolling on your phone, slightly tilted to the couch arm. You were bored out of your mind, you finished all your tasks, and it didn’t look like the others needed help with their jobs. You couldn’t help but think about a special someone in mind, Alastor.

At first, you and Alastor seemed to hate each other, but the more you both got to know each other, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. You put down your phone on your side and turned it off, thinking deeper. Of course, he’s such a tease with his sinister smile of his, but you thought it was charming.

When you were done thinking about this ‘deer’ of yours, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You looked around to see if anyone was there except for husk because obviously he was working at the bar, but nobody else to be seen. You shrugged it off. As you were about to switch apps, someone had snatched your phone out of your hands, it was Alastor.

“I already told you my dear, no phones allowed in this hotel.” He held your phone with his two fingers, like it was something disgusting or smelly. You sighed while looking up at Alastor, as it was already the fifth time this week he had done this. He took your phone, gave you a lecture, and then make it disappear. “Why do you care so much? Plus how long have you been watching me? I thought you were up in your radio tower.” You said as you stood up, crossing your arms.

Alastor was slightly stunned for you to know how he was watching you from afar, as your secret admirer it was kind of hard to keep it in. “Well dear, we don’t want the V’s to get to us y’know, plus your eyes are glued to it, why not focus your eyes on me instead?” He tilted your head to look up at him. You slightly gulped with nervousness, but shook it off immediately.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go to my room, bye Al.” You scoffed as you sat up, walking to your own room. Alastor watched you walk away, sighing once out of his sight. He didn’t mean to make you annoyed at him, but it was just the honest truth.

You were obviously tired of Alastor doing this. As you slammed your door behind you, you plopped down on your soft bed, groaning in your pillow. You turned your head to the side to look at your clock on your bedside, with a picture of you and the others hanging out with each other, and having genuinely good time. You picked it up and smiled at it, and put the picture frame back.

After a few hours, you heard a knock on your door. You turn your head to ask, “Who is it?” No response. You sigh and open the door , you look down to see a little gift box. You pick it up and turn around, still having the door opened. You look at the tag that says, ‘From Alastor’ You smile at it, opening the box to see a letter and your souvenir.

You open the letter to read,

To my dearest,

I apologize for taking your phone, again.. I’m just saying all this and that because I don’t want the V’s to ruin the hotel, I hope you understand.. I let a souvenir for you so it hopefully distracts you from your electronic.

-Alastor

You smiled warmly again and hugged the souvenir and letter, appreciating it. You felt a pair of warm hands wrap around you from the back, making you stunned. Alastor snuggled his head into your neck, his smile cracking a little. He muttered, “I’m sorry, I hope you can forgive me” and snuggled closer, tightening his grip. You never seen him like this before, after all he was the Radio Demon.

“I forgive you.”

Pecking his cheek.

AGGHHHHH THIS IS SCTUALLY SO CUTEE

[bbunnyyy]

All The Stars~

BAKUGOU X SECRET ADMIRER PT.1

A/N: This idea has marinated in my head for wayyyy too many weeks, so here you go. There will be a part 2 to this.

P.S: Not proofread. Sorry for any mistakes.

ALL THE STARS~ PT.2 | ALL THE STARS~PT.3

It was the second day of school after the summer break. You peeked out from behind the wall at the lockers- your crush's locker. Your stomach grumbled in pain- ah, the sacrifices you make for love. Maybe this was a stupid idea, why would Katsuki fucking Bakugou reciprocate the sickening feelings you harboured towards him? You were better off staying his secret admirer.

Bakugou was the last person you'd imagine a puppy dog romance with. He surely wasn't worth skipping lunch for. What were you thinking anyway, hoping his love for you would blossom? Well, that's all it would be. Hope. You told yourself. Not that it would matter, the gifts inside were unsigned anyway.

Sighing, you turned to walk away- maybe you could convince Lunch Rush to let you have a peck or two before class started. Walking into the hallway, you scratched the back of your head as you felt a headache come on. Looking up, you saw Bakugou, Kirishima and the others walking towards the lockers. Scrambling, you ducked behind the staircase- Holy fucking shit. This was it. They hadn't noticed you, luckily. Not yet, at least. Your knuckles were white from grabbing the wall as you stood on your tippy toes, trying to get a closer look at his expression.

That idiotic blonde was screaming at Denki for electrocuting his lemonade or whatever- at least he saw that coming; what he didn't see was the hellish amount of confetti falling onto him as he opened his locker. The rest of the Bakusquad looked with their mouth open as you cowered behind the wall, blushing. You were grateful no one had noticed you yet. "Ooh, looks like someone's got the fancies for Bakubro ;)" Kaminari said, almost emoting in surprise, along with Kiri.

"What the actual fuck is this?" Bakugou grimaced, stepping on the now confetti-covered floor. He rummaged around his locker, pushing the confetti around to uncover boxes stacked on top of each other next to his textbooks. Pretty pink boxes adorned with ribbons, must I add. A neon orange sticky note taped to the topmost box stood out in contrast with the monochrome textbooks and grey metal of the locker. Bakugou had half a mind to throw it all away or blow up the entire locker. It wasn't worth the hassle anyway.

Denki snickered, peeling off the note that read 'High protein chocolate~' "Woaahh, real thoughtful, ain't it?" Kirishima said, elbowing Bakugou in the stomach. "I wonder who it isss~~" Mina piped up, opening one of the heart-shaped boxes to reveal chocolate-covered strawberries. Popping one in her mouth, she sighed, placing a hand on her cheek while relishing the flavour. "I wonder how they got all that confetti into your locker."

You took a deep breath in, relaxing your shoulders. One step at a time- You walked towards Bakugou. "I wonder who's masochistic enough to have a crush on Bakugou, let alone express themselves, hahaa-" you laughed, interrupted by a sharp jab on your ribs. "Aahh that hurt, y'know?" You sulked, rubbing the sore spot. "What kinda coward leaves this unsigned?" Bakugou grumbled, tearing up the note and resuming rummaging through his locker for his textbooks for Present Mic's class.

Katsuki Bakugou was not a kind man. You more than most people, knew that well. But Bakugou didn't mean to push you out of the way as he made his way out the hall. He didn't mean to bruise your chest. He didn't mean to hurt you.

[opendirectories]

[morlao]

Secret Admirer

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

■ friends to lovers

■ Isaac Garcia x fem!reader

Valentine's Day or in other words: that real fun time of the year where boys buy roses for their crush and (since most of them give the roses anonymously) girls try to find out who the rose is from. It was always really funny, especially when it involved one of your friends. Last year Kiley was the lucky one. She was invited on a date, a blind date, and she came home super excited, telling you and your friends that it was a guy from the Football team.

This year you are sure it would be Jackie. You and Skylar have a bet about who would make the first move. He says Cole, you say Alex. Your chances of winning are quite high since you and Kiley are telling Alex for weeks that this would be the perfect opportunity for him.

Jackie herself doesn't seem so sure about getting a rose at all. When you meet up with her in school she and Grace are talking about it. "No Grace, Cole is with Erin, he for sure won't get me a rose!" "Bullshit." "Grace!"

"Oh, come on Jackie," you sigh, joining Grace's side, "I'm pretty sure you'll get at least one rose today." The blush that starts to rise to Jackie's face makes your grin even wider. "And you know that too", you tease her.

Jackie clears her throat, grabs her backpack and stands up. "Okay, time for class, we can talk later" You know exactly that she is just trying to avoid this topic but nevertheless you nod. "Yeah, classes", you murmur with absolutely no motivation.

Slowly you start walking into class. Of course there are already a bunch of roses lying on some of the desks. The girls stand around them and whisper excitedly, while sometimes stealing glances towards the boys. You walk to your place and... Wait, there is a rose on YOUR desk. For a moment you stand there, confused and in disbelief. You have never received a rose before. You also have no idea who might have put it there. Maybe the boy put it on the wrong desk by accident. It for sure isn't meant for you. You would have noticed if someone had a crush on you, wouldn't you? At least if the boy showed it as obvious as Cole and Alex did concering Jackie.

When you are finally able to break free of your paralysis you slowly start walking towards it. Only then do you notice the little note that was attached to it. Your heart starts to race as you see that your name is written on it. It is no accident, the rose is really for you! You take a look around, searching for any suspicious behaviour, but nobody seems to act strange. With your fingers trembling you unfold the paper and stare at the few lines that were written there by computer.

"Y/N, I've been in love with you for quite a while now. I hope you like the rose."

Of course you couldn't wait for the lessons to end. As soon as the bell rings, you storm out of the classroom, nearly bumping into one of your classmates, and run to the cafeteria to meet up with your friends.

"Guys, I got a rose and a note!"

Immediately they all gather around you, almost ripping the note out of your hands as each one of them wants to read it. "Do you have any idea who it could be?" Jackie sounds super excited. "Nope, sadly not. Could be anyone." You try to think about whether someone acted strange around you. Nothing unusual.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Isaac walks up behind you and tries to get a look at the note. Hastily you try to cover it with your hands. Yes, he was one of your closest friends and yes you trusted him with your life but you also knew that he could be a real pain in the ass especially when it came to boys.

The last time you mentioned that Cole was cute he complained so loudly that all the girls were crazy about Cole that the whole cafeteria heard it. You had never felt so embarrassed in your whole life. Also the next week Cole kept walking up to you with his arrogant grin, asking if you would like to come to his place that night. It took several weeks for him to stop.

Quickly you snatch the note away from him. "Nothing, just..." "You got a love letter!" "No that's not..." You sigh as you don't know what else to call it. It is right, it is a love letter. "Okay, yes I got a love letter and I also got a rose. Don't ask who it is, I don't know." Isaac looks at you, his dark eyes sparkeling as he teases you. "Who do you want it to be?"

You feel all your friends' eyes on you. A very good question. Who did you want it to be? A year ago you would have immediately answered Cole. But now... of course you still think that he is very attractive - nobody would deny that - but his behaviour and the rumors about him making out with numerous girls even though he seems to be with Erin, made you change your mind. You wouldn't want to be with someone who plays you like a toy and gives you mixed feelings or even a roller coaster of emotions.

If you were completely honest, lately you catch yourself often thinking about Isaac. Why didn't you notice before how handsome he actually is? Maybe because you knew him practically since kindergarten. He had always been one of your best friends, it would be weird to see him as more. Or wouldn't it?

You blush as you notice that your friends are still staring at you, waiting for your answer. What should you say? Your eyes dart across the room and the first one you see is... "Er... Dylan. Yeah... I think I might have a crush on Dylan."

Isaac's shoulders tense. "Dylan?!" He almost spits out the name, then he rolls his eyes murmuring something about bad taste in men before walking away.

Kiley looks at you, ignoring him completely. "Do you think the note could maybe be from Dylan?" You shrug, as you didn't really care if it was him or not. "That's the worst about it... I have absolutely no idea who it could be."

The following days you all do your best to find out more about your secret admirer but it seems to be impossible. He really did his best to stay anonymous. Isaac still seems to be upset. You don't really get it, because as far as you knew you did nothing to piss him off. Nevertheless he still avoids you during break and sometimes you catch him glaring at you or your friends from across the room.

On top of that you slowly start to regret calling Dylan your crush as Kiley tries her best to be a good friend and gives him little hints in order to find out if he likes you too. All you could do is watch and act like you were excited about it when in reality you couldn't care less.

Almost two weeks have passed and you still have no idea who your secret admirer is. Valentine's Day was over so no more notes and no more roses. What if he disappeared until Valentine's Day next year? You would have to wait the whole goddamn year and that only for another anonymous note? And what if he didn't like you anymore next year? You would probably never find out who it was!

Frustrated you bang your head against the kitchen table. Jackie had invited you to the Walters' house for a girls night. Probably she wants to distract you from racking your brains over who it could be. But as she is just as curious as you, the topic comes up again and again.

"I asked my classmates. Nobody saw who left the rose", you tell her. "Do you think it's someone you know? Maybe someone you're friends with?", Jackie asks. "Why do you think that?" "Well, it was written by computer. Maybe the person feared you would recognize the handwriting." Your eyes widen. Why didn't you think of that?

A quiet laughter makes you turn around. Isaac has entered the room. He grabs a glass of water and grins at you. "Are you still trying to find your secret lover?"

"Yes, I do and I won't stop until I know who it is." Your voice sounds determined even though you have no idea what else you could do.

"He could have at least left a hint", Jackie sighed, "Why send someone a rose without the intention to maybe go on a date together?" Isaac shrugs. "Maybe it was just a joke."

You glare at him across the table. "Thank you so much for encouraging me, idiot!" Again he shrugs and walks out of the kitchen again, murmuring just as loudly so you could hear it "Well, if you are into popular Football guys, you should get used to being played."

You don't know what to say. Why is he being such an idiot? Jackie takes your hand, smiling softly. "Hey, forget about him. Maybe he's just stressed." You nod and smile at her even though you don't think that being stressed gives him the right to let it out on others.

A few days later as you walk up to your locker with Jackie you see another note stuck there. Again it had your name written on it. Jackie squeaks excitedly as you take it and unfold it.

"Meet me at 8 on the Football field."

Your heart skips a beat. He wants to meet you! That is your chance of finding out who it is. But as you continue to think about it, also a feeling of nervousness starts to appear. Do you really want to know who it is? What if it is someone you don't like or aren't attracted to? Maybe it would be better not to destroy the illusion of your secret admirer.

Jacky looks at you in disbelief as you tell her your doubt. "No way, you're going!" Her voice allows no contradiction. "You were trying to find out who it is for weeks and now you don't want to take this opportunity? You go there, otherwise I'll drag you there! Your choice."

Okay, sounds like you had no other option. You will go there.

You can't wait for your classes to end. Your eyes are fixed upon the clock and you tap your foot nervously. When finally the bell rings, you are upon the first to storm out of the classroom.

Your friends are there to comfort you during waiting for it to finally be 8 o'clock. Grace lists tons and tons of names who she thinks it is, not noticing that she makes you even more nervous by doing so.

At 7:55 you stand up, gather all your courage and make your way to the football field. It's already getting dark and nobody's there. You stand there waiting, your eyes darting around in search of someone.

Times goes by, it's 8:05 then 8:10, 8:15. Your nervousness fades and instead you start to doubt. Are you maybe really getting fooled? What if it was really just a joke? You are just thinking about leaving when you finally notice a figure walking towards you. Your heart starts racing and as he comes closer you finally see who it is. You stand there in disbelief. "Isaac?!"

The boy smiles shyly at you. "Hi, Y/N." "You... are you... no that's not possible!" You don't know what to say. It seems like all the words had just disappeared from inside your head. Was this a joke? Isaac rubs the back of his neck nervously. He can barely look you in the eye. "Are you disappointed that it's me?"

You had never seen him this shy or nervous before. He always seemed so... relaxed and cool with everything. It had to be a joke, it had to be a joke! Every second that you remain silent is pure torture for the poor boy standing in front of you. He clearly seems to take your silence as a "yes". "I know I'm not the hot and charming Cole Walter or fucking Dylan!" His voice cracks and he tries desperately not to show how hurt he is.

You finally manage to get out more than just a stutter. "It was you? The rose was from you? This is not a joke?" Isaac looks at you, torn between sadness and confusion. "Why should this be a joke?" Your face burns with embarrassment. "You're one of my best friends... I never thought that you'd have feelings for me."

Isaac lowers his head and his dark hair falls into his eyes, covering them almost completely. "You're amazing, you're smart, beautiful and the best friend someone could wish for. How could I not fall in love with you?"

Would it feel weird to kiss him since you had known him for so long? You had thought about it before, never seriously though, he was only a friend after all. But now... the thought of it doesn't sound as weird as you thought it would. Slowly you walk towards him. "Why did you never tell me?"

Isaac bites his lip. "I wanted to, I really did, but then you stood there in front of me and I panicked. Also I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

With a small smile you grab his hand and he looks at you, clearly surprised. "I want to tell you a secret", you whisper and lean towards him, your heart racing in your chest. Just before his lips touch yours you confess: "I lied when I told you I hoped it was Dylan. Actually I hoped that it was you."

You can see from the look on his face that he didn't expect that. "Really?" "Really." A huge smile crosses his lips. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you towards him, smashing his lips onto yours. His kiss is passionate and warm, sending a tingling sensation through your body.

As you pull away from each other he looks at you with the brightest smile possible. "If I had known that, I would have confessed years ago!" You roll your eyes laughing and pull him in for another kiss.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[xtaleunderverse]

"My brother had many fans, but only one special secret admirer. They sent each other super corny letters all the time, even during our guard shift.

He suddenly stopped talking about this person. There was no more letters.

I wonder if they ever met at some point..."

[winterrrnight]

secret admirer (rafe's pov)

PAIRING: high schooler!soft!rafe cameron x high schooler!fem!reader

SUMMARY: the reader has a secret admirer who drops letters, flowers and some other little souvenirs in their locker.

WARNINGS: so much lovesick rafe, fluff and fluff and fluff, extremely cute moments between the two

EDITH SPEAKS: and it's here!!! let's completely ignore the fact that it's been months since the original post :p please make sure you've read the original one first, because it's a bit more detailed and includes what rafe's letters say (you can find the original fic directly linked in my navigation or through the series masterlist!). I hope you all really enjoy this; this is a big piece of my heart in the form of writing 💓 please like and reblog and comment all your thoughts!!! 💘💘

navigation || requests || join my taglist || series masterlist

I walk in the school gates after my soccer practice, still in my sweaty clothes from the intense training. I look at the lockers on my left, carefully seeing the numbers on each of them so I don’t miss the one I’m looking for.

I finally find the one I’m looking for. Through one of the three little slits in the middle of the locker, I slide in my envelope. It has a letter and a little daisy in it. She’s like one; so delicate that I want to protect her from the whole world and only want her to be mine.

Because I do. She comes in my dreams every night, where she so delicately holds my hands and kisses my skin. I feel so lightweight that I will just melt right in her touch.

I look around the hallway, making sure no one sees me. When I notice no one, I take in a deep breath of relief and walk out of the school.

She needs to know how much she means to me. She needs to see how much I appreciate her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I now try to send in an envelope as often as I can. I send one in every few days, and try to mix it around with the little souvenir that accompanies the letter. So far, I’ve sent her flowers, chocolates, and a small bracelet which I made for her.

But today, I woke up so late, I had to miss my soccer practice. My clothes aren’t on properly, and I didn’t even have any time to do something to my hair. I look like I just rolled out of the bed.

I have to be so discreet each time I put in the letter in the locker. I don’t want anyone catching me. That’s all I am: her secret admirer. The one who admires her from afar. The one who sends her little letters to remind her how beautiful she is, and how she deserves the whole world.

I have put in the letter without anyone noticing. I’m now standing right behind the turn of the hallway, where I have a clear look of her. She’s opening her locker. I notice a bright smile on her face when she sees the letter.

Suddenly, the bell rings, cutting through my thoughts. I notice her cursing and rushing to the class, the unopened letter in her bag. I have the same class as her: it’s English and there’s no way our teacher will let us in the class.

I rush to the class too, and by the time I reach, she’s already at the door, the teacher giving her an earful. Just as I stand right behind her, our teacher notices me.

“Oh looks like we have another late comer,” He says, glaring at me. She realizes my presence, and turns around to look at me. We make brief eye contact, and I feel my cheeks heat up. We’re standing close to each other, so close that I can hear her breathing.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I set an alarm but it didn’t ring and-” I start to ramble, but the teacher cuts me off.

“DETENTION! Both of you!” He suddenly yells at the two of us. I watch her flinch, and just for a second, I have the urge of breaking the teacher’s face. He signs two detention slips and hands those to us, and then he dismisses us by closing the door on our faces.

She looks down at the slip at her hand. She hates getting detention. She’s the nice, intelligent student of our grade, and she tries to stay out of detention as much as she can.

She looks up to me and we make brief eye contact again. Oh her eyes. I find myself drowning in them each time I see her.

“Shall we go?” I ask her, wanting her to look at me with those beautiful eyes of hers. But she doesn't lift her head up, and only gives me a nod. We both start to make our way to the detention classroom.

When we reach inside, we only see our PE teacher sitting. He’s too busy reading his magazine and doesn’t realize we both have walked in until we sit down.

“Just two of you?” He looks at us, and she nods in response. “Well that's going to be a waste of my time.” He shuts his magazine close and leaves it on the desk, starting to make a beeline for the door.

“I’ll be here in an hour to let you both out. Don't do anything dumb, you're being watched.” He says and quickly leaves the room, me and her being all alone.

A silence wraps around the two of us, and it feels very serene. I pull out one of my books to read, but I falter at keeping my focus on the words because of her sitting next to me. I can’t help but steal a glance of her after every few seconds, and I swear with each passing second, she just gets more beautiful.

When she opens her bag, she pulls out the letter. I intake a sharp breath, and watch her open the envelope and read the words written on them. A smile graces her lips as her eyes wander over the words, and I feel my heart skip a beat.

“What’s that?” The words leave my mouth so quickly, I don’t realize I’ve spoken them. She snaps her head towards me.

“Nothing,” she says, focussing on folding the paper back again and putting it back in the envelope.

“Looks like a love letter, someone's been writing you love letters?” I pose the question, wanting not to show I’m the one who wrote it.

“Maybe?”

Why is she not as happy as I thought she would be?

“What do you mean, maybe?”

She sighs. “I’ve been receiving these letters which have poetry in French written in them. They usually come along with a little gift, like a small flower or some chocolate. But, there’s no name on the paper whatsoever, so I have no way of knowing who it is, if it’s legit or if someone is playing a prank on me.”

“I don’t think it’s a prank, you know.” She looks back at me, her eyes wide as they sink into mine.

“You don’t?”

“Someone maybe likes you a lot, and is, I don’t know, scared to admit it to you.” I say, shaking my head.

“But, why do you think it’s not a prank? And how are you so sure it is an actual love letter?”

I feel myself almost starting to get riled up; angry because why does she refuse to accept something like that?

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that it can be an actual love letter? That someone actually likes you a lot? You're an amazing person, don't decline the thought of someone being your admirer so easily.” I blurt out, and just the second I finish speaking, I realize I’ve said too much.

I look away from her the next instant, and try to direct all my focus on my work, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks.

I hear her whisper a small thank you, and as much as I try not to, I steal a small glance at her, her head bent down as she's looking over her school work.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

With the incident at the detention, I decide I have to send her letters every single day, with more gifts in them, my love hidden in each one of them safely, but surely.

I see her opening her locker and finding the letter. I included a daisy chain which I learnt how to make from Sarah, more chocolates and two new bracelets.

I had to stay up overnight to finish making the chain and the bracelets, but it’s all worth it.

It’s for her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It was one of the first days of last summer, when I was biking around, waiting for some of my friends to meet up with me. They all had decided to meet up at a new place which I had never been to. Taking different roads and turns, I found myself in unfamiliar areas of the island.

As I continued to bike, I found a big field which I didn’t even know existed. Curious, I got off my bike and went inside the field, and found out it’s actually a huge strawberry field. Strawberries were growing on low lying plants, a bright red color making them pop out from the green of the leaves.

I was completely amazed by them. I followed their path to find a huge opening in the field with a huge tree in the middle. But before I could take any steps further, I saw her sitting under the shade of the tree, protecting herself from the bright summer sun as she was eating the strawberries. She looked so serene; sitting cross legged and biting into those strawberries, sighing as their sweet taste completely encompassed her.

Since then I always see her going on the little road which leads to the huge field, biking her way to it. Now that strawberries are back in season, I have decided to put some of those in her letter next time, and even spend some time there as I try to write some new letters to her.

I decide to go around at least 2 hours before her usual time, so she doesn't see me there at all. With my notepad, my fountain pen, ink bottle and my basket, I find myself in the strawberry field again, taking a deep breath to inhale the sweet smelling air surrounding me.

I sit under the tree, taking my notepad and my pen to begin writing, but, much to my dismay, I don't feel inspired and no words come to my help to write something. Even with a big inspiration right in front of me, I just can't think of something to write.

Frustrated, I leave my notepad under the tree and decide to gather some strawberries. I make my way in between the plants, trying to pluck only the ripest of the ripe strawberries.

Having to walk around in the dirt for so long results in dirt over my face and my clothes, but that doesn't matter to me.

“Just a few more,” I whisper, bending down at one of the bunches of strawberries to pluck them. I look at my basket, which is quite full, but I know I can get some more.

I find myself satisfied with my collection as I look at my full basket. The strawberries shine under the evening shade of the sun, the golden rays making them glow.

I start to walk back out to the tree, but just as I come back out, I spot her looking at me.

Oh shit.

I spent way too much time than I intended and now she's here.

“Oh, hey,” I say awkwardly, as she looks back at me with the same confusion as me.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, what are you doing here?” She questions me.

I can’t tell her why I’m here. I have to make something up.

"Nothing, just... just getting some of these strawberries. I've heard they're really good," I say, walking towards her. I try my best to exude confidence, to show her I’m firm in what I’m pretending to do here.

“How did you... how did you find out about this place? I come here almost every single day and I never see you here. Why suddenly today?”

I see it.

I see the hunger to know everything in her eyes.

I know she has seen my notepad and my pen, just lying there under the shade of the tree.

I know she suspected it when I said too much during the detention. She's set on knowing the truth about everything, about me being the one who drops little words of love in her locker each day, and proving her own assumptions right.

I'm standing silently in front of her, trying to find the right words to start with, and she's looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to start speaking.

“Why do you have that notepad with you, with that fountain pen?” She prompts.

We’ve come too far.

It’s time I tell it all to her.

“For you. It's all for you. It's all always been for you.” I whisper. “These,” I say, motioning to the basket in my hands, “these are for you too.”

"But... why me?” She mutters, her eyes directed towards everywhere but at me.

"Because," I walk closer to her, and with all the confidence in me, I place my finger under her chin and gently push it up so she can only look at me. I feel my hand almost shaking from getting to touch her. “I want you to know how special you are. You deserve nothing but love, and this is just me showing you that.” I move my hand towards her cheek, placing it comfortably. When I see she doesn't show any signs of discomfort, I feel myself starting to get relaxed, my heartbeat taking control over its speed. I feel her cheek radiate heat through my hand.

“But-” she starts, but I cut her off.

“No buts. I told you this before too, why are you not willing to believe that you are so worthy of being loved and appreciated? That there is someone who’s ready to do this all for you, but that wouldn’t be special now, would it? That’s what everyone does. And then my purpose of showing you that I’m not like everyone else and how I will shower you with love every single second of my life is defeated. I will bring you the moon, all you have to do is just ask.”

I say it.

I say it all in a single breath.

Every single emotion I experience when I see her is out in the open for her to see. I feel vulnerable, as if my protective top layer has been scratched away, but not roughly. It’s peeled off carefully, like we peel an orange for a loved one.

But for some reason, she doesn’t seem completely satisfied with all I have to say.

“Why me?”

I sigh, knowing we're both about to take a trip down memory lane.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I was playing in the sand all by myself, trying my best to make a castle out of it, but my attempts failed me. I was bored; sitting all alone in the sand pit with no one with me. I watched everyone else in the playground, running and laughing with their friends, while I was left all alone.

My attention was directed towards the swings, and a huge smile graced my face when I saw it was empty. It was nearly never empty, always being hogged by the rest of the kindergarteners. I rushed to it and sat on one of them, starting to swing back and forth.

I had just started to enjoy the swing, when a huge group of bullies made its way towards me.

“Hey, give us the swing!” Greg, their leader, demanded. I felt myself getting scared, almost trembling, but I didn't want to give the bullies the satisfaction that they had made me scared.

“No!” I said, tightening my grip on the swings and trying to glare at them; to show they didn't scare me. But that only seemed to anger Greg more, because with just one motion of his head, all of his friends charged towards me. They pulled me away from my swing and threw me on the ground with a loud thud, and I screamed at the pain inflicted to me. I started crying as I helped myself up with all my strength to see Greg laughing at me as he sat on his swing.

I felt lost. No teacher came up to help me, despite there being many in the playground to oversee everything. I sat up properly, sniffling, and I noticed my bruises covering my knees.

But suddenly, I felt the sunlight being blocked in front of me, and I looked up to see you.

You were standing in front of me, a gentle smile on your face as you let out your hand for me. My eyes were wide seeing you being so gentle towards me. I took your hand and you pulled me up, and led me to your teacher in your classroom.

I remember her being shocked at my condition. She took me away from you and started to apply an antiseptic on my knees, which spread a burning sensation. I whined at the feeling, wanting it to end at that instant.

She very carefully applied band aids on my wounds, and gave me a little pat on my cheek, and called me a ‘strong boy’. She left me, and you came in just the next second, taking me to your table in the classroom.

I saw you curiously as you opened up your bag and rummaged through it. You pulled out a lollipop, and handed it to me.

“You are so brave,” you said, and I felt my heart racing at your comment.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the lollipop from your hand.

It was strawberry flavored.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“From that day, I've never stopped looking at you. As we grew older, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with, and I wanted to reciprocate all that you've done for me. It's not just the lollipop, throughout all the years you've been there for me when no one else was, I just don't want you to think that your efforts go unappreciated.” I finish.

She's looking at me with wide eyes, her breathing getting heavier.

She knows why she means the whole universe to me.

She knows why I would travel to the other side of the world to get her her favorite kind of flowers.

“Rafe,” she starts, but tears start to blur her eyes. I move my thumbs to her cheeks to quickly wipe them off, before they fall off her face.

“This is nothing compared to what you've done for me, those chocolates, little verses of poetry, bracelets, they don't amount to the things you've done for me in any way. But I just want to show you how amazing you are, and how you deserve the nicest things in the world.” I whisper.

Before I can process what is happening, her lips are pressed against mine, my eyes shut close as I feel her so close to me. My lips move against hers gently, and I feel her pull me closer to her with her arms around my neck.

She pulls away and gently rests her forehead against mine. My eyes are still shut, and I'm afraid if I'll open them up, I'll wake up from the most serene dream I've ever had.

"Je t'aime. Aujourd'hui. Ce soir. Demain. Pour toujours. Su je vivais mille ans, he t'appartiendrais pour tous. Si je vivais mille vies, je te ferais mienne dans chaacune d'elles." I whisper, taking in a deep breath to let the moment settle in me.

“I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow

[thezombieprostitute]

Bittersweet

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar:

🍧Cookie Dough: bakery au – cookie dough proves that a bit of baking can make anything better. Your characters now live in a bakery au, whether they work there, or come as customers, they can’t resist the sweet aura.

🍧Birthday Cake: secret admirer – it doesn’t have to be your birthday to have this flavour. And your secret admirer leaves you gifts every day, but just won’t give you the one thing you desperately want: their identity.

🥄Graham Crackers: flashback – a brief trip into the past reveals something important.

Warnings: Coercion, Stalking. Please let me know if I missed any!

There was a time when you really enjoyed going to work. Your bakery wasn't massively successful but it did well enough. The regulars kept you in business and you were able to attract the occasional crowd with seasonal recipes. You loved baking and you loved that you could try new things along with the tried and true. Even with the protection money you had to pay out, you were still able to turn a small profit.

As much as you hated it, you had to admit they did keep things relatively safe. The grocer across the street had gotten robbed and not only had the person been caught, the store owner received all of their money back with a bonus for the employee who'd been working the register. Store owners who get the runaround from their insurance companies just have to tell the right people to get the fixes and payouts they need. So while you hated having additional expenses, at least you knew it wasn't going to waste.

But then you started getting gifts delivered to you at the bakery. Practically every day, for the past few months, you've been getting gifts of all sorts. It was cute and fun at first. A charm bracelet with a bunch of baking based charms, a small bouquet of flowers. But the,n the gifts started getting more and more personal. A book that had been on your wishlist forever but you never told anyone about, a dress in your favorite colors that fit you perfectly. You started dreading stepping into the bakery.

The small box is on your desk and you take a breath to steady your nerves before opening it. Given the packaging it could be a book. Given the way the gifts have been going, it's likely a book of photos of you. You slowly unwrap the gift and you're proven partially correct. It's a framed drawing of you, asleep in your room. It's definitely your room. All the details are painfully correct. Someone was in your home watching you sleep.

As much as you want to drop everything and cry, there is work to be done. You've got bills and employees to pay. On top of that, it's time for the quarterly protection payment. Maybe you can ask the “agent” you regularly meet up with to keep an eye out for the secret admirer. You fill up the manila envelope with the payments and head to the kitchen to get things started.

The routine is comforting. Cookies, small cakes, pastries, you could probably make these in your sleep. It does help when your employees start trickling in and taking over some of the tasks. The shop is running like a well-oiled machine and you're able to forget about the unsettling drawing in your office.

A little before time to open, there's a knock at the front. You recognize the woman, Nat, as the one who collects the payments. You quickly run up and let her in. She seems especially chatty this morning.

“Hey, did you stop wearing that charm bracelet?”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply sadly. “It's actually something I was hoping to talk to you about.” As you step into the office you hand her the envelope with the payment before pointing to the picture. “My secret admirer has gotten more and more creepy, like a stalker. It's really scaring me.”

She looks at the drawing, “they're certainly talented.”

“Oh yes,” you agree quickly, “but that's not the point. That's my room. No one has been in my room for...long enough. There've been other gifts that feel way too personal for a stranger to know. Hell, even friends of mine wouldn't know!”

Tears start forming in your eyes and Nat quickly starts trying to soothe you. “We'll look into this,” she promises. “I'll have answers for you by the end of the week.”

You nod and thank her before she leaves and you get back to work, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of the day.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You pause on your way to your car and turn towards the source of the voice. You recognize the man, Sam, as another “agent” like Nat. “Can I help you?”

“I've been asked to bring you to The Shield for dinner. We have some answers about your secret admirer.”

“Oh, what, um, what time?”

“Now,” he replies as he motions to his car.

“But I'm not dressed for The Shield. I'm covered in flour from work. I smell--”

“Now,” Sam repeats. His tone leaves no room for argument. Your hands shake as you put your keys in your purse and sit in the passenger seat of Sam's vehicle.

The Shield is a very high-end restaurant that's known to be a favorite of Barnes, the man in charge of the Protection for your neighborhood. You're not sure why he would need to see you in person. Did you overstep when you asked Nat for help? Do they need to start charging you more because of it? Can you afford the increase?

“You'll be okay,” Sam assures. “He just wants to talk to you over dinner.”

“I don't think I can afford the meal.”

He chuckles, “it's on us. He's making you come to dinner with him, the least he can do is pay for your meal.”

You nod your understanding. At least that's something you don't have to worry about.

At the restaurant, Sam leads you past the hostess and straight to, what you can only assume to be, a VIP area. Tables are set inside of nooks, some cordoned off by curtains to promote privacy.

One of the tables is occupied by two very different looking men. One of them is big and tall with long, brown hair and stubble. The other is smaller, with blond hair and looks...familiar. He looks up and smiles as he sees you and you're hit with a memory from over a decade ago.

You were working late shift at Waffle House. Not great, but it paid the bills your scholarship didn't cover. Culinary School was your ticket out of this town and you were going to give it everything you had. And, because of class schedules, the late night shift was your only real option.

On a slow night it was just you and another server managing the floor. Curtis, the cook, was out back for his smoke break. Your one patron came up to pay his bill. He was scrawny, blonde haired, blue eyed, and very polite. Unlike other late night patrons, he wasn't drunk and didn't try flirting with you. He spent most of his meal drawing in his notebook and you noted he was very skilled. He smiled shyly and thanked you.

He went to the till to pay but went pale when his card was declined. “I...I knew I was cutting it close but...I'm so sorry! Let me try to find some cash or something!” He starts frantically pulling out his pockets.

“It's okay, I've got you,” you assure him. “It was just eggs and toast.”

“I don't want your pity,” he mumbles. “I swear I can pay.”

“It's not pity, it's kindness,” you retort. “You were a very nice customer, very respectful. Not used to that this time of night. You even let me look at your artwork. So let me thank you for being nice by being nice in return.”

His cheeks are pink with embarrassment but he steadies himself, “I...I promise I'll pay you back.”

“I'm not worried about it.”

And now that same scrawny, blonde haired, blue eyed man was gesturing for you to sit next to him at the most high-priced restaurant in the city.

“I know it's been a while,” he states calmly. “So I'll understand if you don't recognize me.”

“Eggs and toast,” you whisper, making him smile.

“I still owe you for that meal. And with interest and economic inflation, I think you could order whatever you want from this place and I'll still owe you.” His companion, the big, brown haired man chuckles. “Please, have a seat. We've got some catching up to do.”

You sit down, still feeling in a bit of shock. “What...what are you doing here?”

“Me and Bucky,” he gestures to the brunette, “run this town. We're the ones you've been paying the protection money to.”

“You're Mr. Barnes?”

“That would be me, Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I have the more intimidating presence people expect, complete with the skills to back that up. Steve here is the brains. The devious bastard figured out how to completely run out the other rackets, making us the only game in town.”

A sudden thought hits you. You look at Steve, “those gifts I've been receiving?”

“Those were me, Angel,” he smiles. “I figured you'd appreciate a glimpse at the nice things I can give you.”

“You...you broke into my apartment...”

“I own the building so it wasn't a break in,” he calmly tells you. “I have my own key.”

You freeze up. How many times has this stranger been in your apartment? How many times did he watch you sleep? And how much power does he have that he can openly admit these things to you without fear of repercussion?

“I warned him that the drawing was a step too far,” Bucky interrupted your thoughts. “But he insisted you'd be flattered.”

“Then we got Nat's report from you,” Steve frowned. “I really didn't think it would scare you.”

“You didn't think it would scare me to have someone draw me in my sleep? Without my knowing?!” You get out of your chair and try to back away. “You've been stalking me. Invading my privacy! I never consented to any of this!”

You try to turn and walk away but you're stopped by Sam. “I promise you,” he warns, “if you leave you will regret it.”

Confused you turn back to Steve and Bucky who are out of their own seats and stalking towards you, looking angry.

“I want to be nice,” Steve tells you. “But I'm sure you can guess, I don't have to be. Neither do my friends. Now please,” he holds out a hand to you. “Please come sit, and have dinner with me.”

You want to run. You want to scream. But this man owns your business. He owns your home. If you try to get away, where could you go? You've invested everything into your bakery and have no savings. You have nowhere else you can live. He owns everything you hold dear.

You take his hand, “I'm...I'm sorry, Steve. It's a lot to take in.”

He smiles while Bucky and Sam relax. “It's okay, Angel,” he covers your hand with his. “We've got all the time to figure this out.”

Partially inspired by @theinheriteddutchess; Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @fluxxdog; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[mj-thrush-gxn]

Sophomore Slump

[chippythedog]