#����.unsigned admirer

[lostinthenight-snow]

YOURE SO FUCKING PATHETIC

TW for mentions of suicide utc

So. Guess who's being threatened and told to kill themselves?

Me! Snow! Though I also go by Ember!

I think one of the biggest mistakes I made was choosing to create an rp account for a character like Sae right before season two came out. I should have known that he would be put in a tough spot with a lot of characters slating him and hating on him.

It started with one message. I wasn't that bothered with the first one, saying that Sae should have been died in Spain or something. I just deleted it because yeah, I don't wanna answer that kind of ask, but go ahead and ask it if you want to.

And then it just got out of hand, like you can see here. I don't know how hate towards Sae spreads to me as a mod, and why I'm receiving this level of hate. It's really fucking hurtful. Sae as a character shows no reflection of who Ember is as a person. That's the fun of fiction, keeping it separate from reality.

But anons have taken it too far these past 24 hours. I've turned off anon asks for a while to cool down and hope they leave me alone.

I just wanted to say to everyone here that you're free to rp pretty much any blog you like. Characterise anyone you like. Fiction has never been reality. And there is nothing wrong with 'liking' a bad character. Nothing.

And by the way! If you know my main, chances are you read the replies of my pinned post. Where I said my discord tag. Did you search it on tumblr to find me? Such dedication. Well done! My main account is lakeside-paradise. Check it out if you want.

As of now, I'm not sure what I want to do. Maybe I'll just leave here altogether. Maybe I'll make another account. Maybe I'll change this one. I just need some time to think about all this.

Alright, gang? We good? Good.

Tagging: @worlds-best-striker in case you wanted to see

[the-travelling-witch]

Whats Ur schedule plan

what’s a schedule /j

i’m flattered you think i can plan ahead but i assure you none of that happens

right now my plan is to proofread and edit this absolute monstrosity i wrote yesterday in time for halloween and then devote myself to the event again

as for posting (i hope) it’ll look something like this:

tuesday: halloween smut

sunday: event intro/navi post

monday- saturday: short & sweet drabbles

sunday: event conclusion (and everyone hopefully arriving at the designated result)

after that i’ll try to reduce my backlog of half-written drafts, including but not limited to:

modern! xiao pt.2

diasomnia soulmate hcs

octavinelle and accidentally turned merfolk! reader shenanigans

genshin angst/comfort (of course)

cute things with him haikyuu/genshin edition

obey me! ocs

more modern! au (second parts + new characters)

[boy-eater11]

-Paper Confessions-

- Kurt Wagner/nightcrawler x Shy!Reader

- After Kurt receives two anonymous confession letters, written in slowly improving German. He comes face to face with their quiet author. -

- CW: fluff, bad German, references to insecurities, Gn!reader

The first time it happened, Kurt didn't know what to think. Messy handwriting, horrible grammar, and other blatant mistakes led him to believe the note must have been some kind of elaborate prank.

It seemed honestly quite rude, that someone he knew would go through the trouble of translating an entire fake secret admirer note into German, just to mock the idea that someone could honestly have feelings for him.

Compliments like, 'Der netteste Mann, den ich kenne' or 'der schönste Mann, den ich je gesehen habe' read as cruel insults instead of words of appreciation.

Needless to say, the following day, Kurt was visibly disheartened. You however, were quite proud of yourself. The days before, you had spent countless hours reading and practicing German, in an earnest effort to learn it.

Ever since you had developed feelings for Kurt, you had been painfully unable to communicate how you felt towards him, any attempt to have a genuine conversation resulted in stammers and awkward silences, so you opted to appreciate him from the sidelines. Spending quiet hours in each other's company.

Yet, it had been months since then, and the need to express to him how you felt was becoming too great, so you crafted an idea. You would write him a note, something truly meaningful, to get the stress of hiding your emotions off your chest, even deciding to write it in German, in order to show Kurt just how much you cared.

Your efforts were seemingly in vain however, as the first attempt went incredibly poorly, so poorly you trashed it, where without your knowledge, it managed to find itself into the hands of the very person it was written for.

Kurt had been in the library when he found the crumpled paper with his name on it. He thought it was odd of course, but figured its author wished him to receive it. He regretted that decision after reading it. A cruel insult to all the effort he had put into seemingly as kind and approachable as possible, not wishing to be seen as a monster.

You were of course, confused, when Kurt was inexplicably downtrodden the next day. Everyone could tell, yet any attempt to comfort him was brushed off. When approached, he just claimed to be tired or unfocused.

Observing this, you poured yourself into your books again. Writing, practicing, translating, anything you could do to perfect your skills. Finally, nearly three days later, you had finished your note. Imperfect, but unlike your first failed attempt, you felt confident in your progress. You slipped it under his doorway of course, anonymity was your saving grace.

Despite your original plan, you couldn't bring yourself to admit the confession, leaving it unsigned. You hoped that at least getting your feelings off your chest would help you relax.

Kurt however, was only further confused. This second note, properly addressed to him, left for him to find, was much less demeaning. Still imperfect, in fact it was painfully clumsy in his eyes, but a vast improvement. If he had read this note first, he would have been over the moon with joy. Yet, the cruel doubt etched in him from the original note, clouded his mind from the possibility of sincerity.

He thought through his suspects, Logan, Storm and Jean, seemed like obvious no's, Remy, Scott, or even Rogue seemed more likely, yet he had a hard time believing any of his teammates would do this.

Then you crossed his mind. Painfully shy, but confident in a fight, you seemed far from anyone who would do this. Yet part of him hoped it was you. That he had gotten this whole thing wrong, and that you had been secretly reciprocating his affections.

Kurt had liked you for months, after you patched him up after a seriously bad mission, he felt comfortable around you. When you first arrived, Kurt assumed you were scared of him, you always seemed to avoid him, and never seemed to want to keep a conversation with him. Yet, when he asked if you found him monstrous, you were honest. Saying that you found him quite kind, but that you simply struggled to make friends, and had been intimidated by his forwardness.

So, Kurt took his time. He let you approach first, he was constantly welcoming, and you two had found yourself in a pattern of spending quiet afternoons in each other's company. Not talking, or even really hanging out, just being in each other's presence.

That's when he developed feelings, the quiet moments you shared, seemed like the most relaxed Kurt ever got to be. You were beautiful of course, but being near you reminded Kurt of a warm blanket or a cold towel on a hot day. gentle, and refreshing.

So, that's what Kurt hoped for. That his assumption was wrong, and that you had been writing these for him. It seemed unlikely, and part of him truly believed he was wrong, but it made him feel giddy to think you could feel the same.

You, on the other hand, and only dig yourself a deeper hole. Your work was pointless, you still felt overwhelmed by your wish to confess to Kurt, and the fact that you had put so much time into trying to escape it, weighed you down like bricks on your shoulders.

"You've got to tell him properly. Right now he's probably thinking he's about to get swept off his feet by the girl of his dreams, and you're too scared to admit it's you." Jean teased.

"You're right...I know....I just can't even bring myself to look him in the eyes." You signed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

"Then don't, hell if you don't want your work to go to waste, just actually put your name down this time." Jean rolled her eyes in response.

"Are you sure that's a good idea though? I mean I can hardly talk to him now, what if after he finds out he doesn't even want to be around me?" Jean patted your back and you rubbed circles into your temples.

"He won't. You two just need to communicate for once."

So, you wrote again. One last letter, rambling painfully about how much you cared for him. Detailing every way he made you smile. Reading it back made you want to almost vomit with cringe, but you didn't know how else to say what you felt.

So, as you had done days prior, you snuck to his room, slipping it under the door frame. However, this time, as you turned to flee, you were treated by a familiar *bamf*

"Mein freund... This was... You?" Before you know it, you're face to face with the fuzzy blue boy of your dreams.

"I... Uhm..yeah." you nod, staring down at your feet, a bright red blush stinging your cheeks.

Without another word, Kurt begins to read your most recent note. You shift uncomfortably, debating whether to run, or to freeze in place.

"You've improved quite a bit Schatz... I am glad." He looks down at you, a wide smile, and indigo blush gracing his features.

You chuckle awkwardly, unable to formulate a genuine response.

"Ich liebe dich auch." He rests a hand on your shoulders, calming your fidgeting, and freezing you in place.

"y-you.... Really?" You stare at him, wide eyed in disbelief.

"of course, meine Liebe. I have for quite some time. In all honesty, I had been wishing it was you."

Without thinking, or saying a word, you pull him into a hug. Burying your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around him.

"good."

- end. -

[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.

[augiewrites]

"secret admirer" - dead poets society

summary: y/n receives yet another profession of love under their door—too bad the hallway is always empty when they open the door

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 591

i am back two years and one english degree later to write a fic that no one asked for! now that's what i call self care!

part two

Winter proved the student body of Welton wrong when they thought the school couldn't get any more dull. The cold can be cruel like that.

Just like the winter stripped the North of all life, Welton stripped it's students of all identity. In a place where boot licking is the norm and conformity is the goal—Y/N's only retreat was the 200 square foot box they called home for ten months of the year. The only place anyone in Welton was allowed to be themself.

That was exactly where Y/N and their roommate—Quinn—found themselves on a particularly cold Sunday morning.

Y/N sighed and looked from their homework over to Quinn, who had yet to get out of bed, "Do you know that guy that's like...scary good at latin? What's his name? Minks?"

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, wrapping the blanket closer to their body, "the ginger kid? Always hanging out with that tall dude?"

"Yeah, him," a pause and yet another sigh from Y/N, "I think I need a tutor if I want to keep an A this semester. I—"

Suddenly an envelope skidded under the door and across the floor. Rapid footsteps followed soon after and Y/N could hear a door slamming further down the wing.

Quinn rolled their eyes, "God. Not another one."

Y/N just shot them a look and picked up the envelope—one of many addressed to them and left unsigned.

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer."

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer mehmheh blah," Quinn mocked in a high tone, "Yeah. If they were for me, they'd be romantic. For you? Prepare to be murdered."

"Shut up."

Y/N opened the letter and dove in. Their heart was beating much faster than they would like to admit.

Lovely Y/N,

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

I couldn't help but think of you when Keating had us reciting Lord Byron's work last week. The sun was so bright for a dreary winter day, and the rays illuminating from the window painted an image of heaven around your silhouette. You looked so lovely, I could barely register Byron's words.

I would happily go toward the light if I knew you were waiting for me within it.

Sincerely,

Yours.

Y/N could feel Quinn's eyes on them as their cheeks burst into a rosy flame.

"He's in my English class."

Quinn gasped, "Finally! We have a lead!"

"Quinn, I really don't want to play detective on this...what if I think it's the wrong person and make a fool of myself? I think I would have to drop out. Die, even."

But Quinn kept rambling on, completely ignoring their roommate's apprehension, "it's too bad I'm not smart enough for AP English—I would for sure be able to catch that creep staring you down. You're so oblivious. He could be telling you all these things to your face and you would doubt that he's into you."

"I'm not that oblivious, Quinn."

"Oh, please," Quinn exclaimed, "you're so romantically challenged! This guy has been right under your nose and you don't have a single clue!"

Y/N scoffed and returned to their homework.

"Whatever you say, Quinn. We're just going to have to wait and see."

~~~

a/n: who could it possibly be?? 🤯

part two

[jojikawa]

The Princess and the Delinquent 🎀🖤

Highschool AU — Delinquent!Ryomen Sukuna, Popular!Reader, Little Brother Yuuji, is Mostly SFW apart from AU Sukuna being a horny young adult.

artist: yom

Delinquent!Ryomen who’s been staring at you every day since you’ve transferred to his school. His attraction towards you was nearly immediate. You were just so soft-looking and pretty.

Delinquent!Ryomen who tells himself that he will emotionally distance himself from you once he finds out you’re already taken but he fails miserably, settling for admiring you from afar.

Delinquent!Ryomen who learns that you had a nasty breakup with the guy and now you’re really heartbroken because you’ve been dating that guy since grade school.

Delinquent!Ryomen who begins messing with you during the classes the two of you have together. He sits behind you, tugging your hair if it’s long enough to go down your back, moving your chair more towards him with his foot and even getting bold enough to throw things at you like candy wrappers and small crumpled sticky notes.

Delinquent!Ryomen who scares off any guys that seem like they may be trying to pursue a relationship with you, leaving you wondering why no guys ever approach you after your break up.

Delinquent!Ryomen who you’re forced to partner up with because of your consistently high grades and his consistently low ones.

Delinquent!Ryomen who nicknames you princess when he experiences just how soft and frilly yet demanding you are when you try to get him to do his half of the work.

Delinquent!Ryomen who gets in a fight and is almost expelled because he heard some guy in the locker room saying something vulgar about you. He doesn’t mention this to you at all to protect your feelings. 

Delinquent!Ryomen who eventually opens up after your excessive help to keep his grades up. You end up tolerating him a lot more too which he is grateful for.

Delinquent!Ryomen who you actually find kinda cute once your heartbreak begins to subside.

Delinquent!Ryomen who leaves unsigned love letters in your locker, just to convince you that some sad lonely loser left them instead once you mention it to him: 

You: “Ryomen…someone keeps putting these notes in my locker.”

Ryo: “I wonder who’s gonna tell that poor freak you’re not into him.”

You: “Well, I want to know because they’re actually kinda sweet.”

Ryo: “Wait, really?!”

Delinquent!Ryomen who kisses you in the hallway in front of everyone on Valentine’s Day because you felt sad and left out about not getting a present.

Delinquent!Ryomen who confesses his feelings shortly after.

Delinquent!Ryomen who is extremely surprised about you returning his feelings and kissing him back because why would a pretty princess like you want anything to do with him?

Delinquent!Ryomen who invites you to his house for homework after school where you meet his adorable kid brother, Yuuji. He was a sweet, curious toddler who immediately latched onto you the moment you got in the door.

Delinquent!Ryomen who you scold for bullying the poor child because he annoyed him.

Delinquent!Ryomen who gets bored of homework so soon and pulls you into his bed with him instead. You sorta get the vibe that he’s sorta lonely and isolated because others find him scary.

Delinquent!Ryomen who makes you his security blanket, melting into your chest and falling asleep before you could even say anything about it.

Delinquent!Ryomen who randomly asks if you’re on birth control or not while he’s walking you home. He does not elaborate why but you sorta get it.

Delinquent!Ryomen who uses his bathroom break to peer into the windows of whatever class that the two of you don't share to stalk you. If you see him watching you then he smirks before waving at you and disappearing. If you don’t notice him, he will tap the window, alerting the entire class and earning himself detention.

Delinquent!Ryomen who gets you in trouble so that you can be stuck in detention with him. 

🎀 — @ameliabs-world

[harmonicakai]

Be Around Me

Part 1 of the "Love is Embarrassing" series

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader, Ricky x Reader (one-sided), Haobin crumbs, Jiwoong x Reader teeny tiny crumbs 

Summary: Gyuvin is the type of guy to get flustered over everything, but little does he know that you secretly think it makes him even cuter.

Tropes: basketball star!gyuvin, journalist!reader, college AU, basketball!zb1, frat!zb1, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, crack, unrequited love, mutual pining, gyuvin is a LOSER

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Ricky is annoying lol, mentions of masturbation and sex (mdni!!!)

A/N: y’all will have pry zb1 college basketball au from my cold dead hands!!!!!!!! also for once in my life, y/n is not super insecure we cheered!!

FIC INSPIRED SPOTIFY PLAYLIST <3

“It's obvious she's so out of reach And I'm finding it hard 'cause She makes me feel, makes me feel Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard” —Try Hard, 5 Seconds of Summer

On the court, Kim Gyuvin is the star player of the Wakefield Roses. With his long limbs, he handles the ball with ease, capturing the hearts of everybody in the crowd every time he grins after scoring a basket.

Off the court, he’s an awkward mess. Combine that with the fact that you, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, are usually the one covering games for the school news, and he’s a goner.

As if it isn’t hard enough for him to make eye contact with the camera, he also has to make sure he doesn’t stare too hard at your shiny hair or glossy lips. His teammates would never let him live it down if he was caught being an absolute creep on video.

What started out as a little crush has grown into a deep admiration. He reads every article that you put out into the school newspaper, sometimes even cutting out the ones you’ve written about him and his team. Everybody makes fun of him for being too scared to just ask you out.

He’s never been one to flirt with girls, but the way you make conversations so easy during interviews, even when he’s stumbling over his words, makes him feel at ease around you. Still, he wonders how much of it is just your journalist persona versus you actually liking him.

Sharing a double with Ricky means he gets exiled a lot in the name of his roommate getting laid. Sometimes, you come back from getting your morning coffee and catch him sleeping on one of the lounge’s couches.

One morning, when your arms are full of pastries that you intend to hoard in your dorm for the upcoming week, you spot him curled up yet again on your way back to your room. 

Without much thought, you stop to leave a muffin and a little note next to it on the table in front of him, conveniently forgetting to sign your name.

It began with cutesy but vague things, like “breakfast for a champion,” but quickly escalated as soon as Gyuvin started leaving notes back for you. 

After a couple exchanges, he even wrote that you didn’t need to be leaving him food at all and that he just wanted to know who you were. Truthfully, you had a really big crush on Gyuvin, but didn’t everybody?

Despite being a bit camera shy, he was always so sweet before and after your interviews, doing his best to make small talk and smiling his smile that could make anybody swoon. 

Plus, you’ve seen how much more comfortable he is with other people, even the cheerleaders, who are all super pretty. He must just be really nice.

So, you continue to leave the notes unsigned, despite each one growing in flirtation. You like the thrill of being mysterious, but you’re mostly just scared of getting rejected since he’s never given you a reason to think he likes you back.

It isn’t until Ricky catches you one morning, a sly grin on his face when he sees you leaving a whole stack of notes on the table.

When you lock eyes with Gyuvin’s roommate, you know the jig is up. Surely, he’ll tell him it’s been you all along.

“Y/N,” Ricky nods when you approach him, his arms crossed. “I have to say, I had my suspicions.”

“Listen, Ricky, I would prefer if we could keep this between us.”

“Gyuvin’s been going on and on about some secret admirer for weeks now. It’s cruel that you won’t tell him who you are.”

“He’s welcome to stop writing back if he doesn’t want to,” you shrug, although it would probably devastate you if that actually happened.

“Oh, trust me, he wants to. Especially if he found out it was you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that every time he finishes an interview with you, he might always run home and lock himself in our bathroom because you get him so riled up. If you know what I mean.”

Your eyes go wide at the revelation. Ricky is surely just messing with you. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ricky. You shouldn’t joke about those kinds of things.”

“I’m not joking,” he chuckles. “Listen, Zeta Beta Omega is throwing a party tonight and the whole team will be there. You should come.”

“I don’t do parties,” you scoff. “Why would you even want me there?”

“Because maybe after a few drinks, you and Gyuvin won’t be so scared to tell each other how you feel. Then you guys can knock off this silly game and he can stop whining about not knowing who his mystery girl is.”

“And go back to whining about how all his roommate does is kick him out every night so he can fuck whoever he lays his eyes on?”

“Exactly. See, Y/N, you get me,” he practically purrs. “So, you show up looking all pretty and talk to my poor, lovesick roomie, and I won’t spill your little secret. Deal?”

“Ugh, fine, I guess. I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me. Deal.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own good, sweetheart.”

You cringe at the pet name. “Is this how you talk to everybody?”

“Yes. Why? Is it working? Are you going to start leaving me notes too?”

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Ricky. I’ll see you later,” you say, walking past him. Even if he’s annoying, it’s genuinely impressive how he managed to brush off every insult you threw his way.

“See you, Y/N.” You don’t even have to look back at him to know that he winked as he said that.

—————-

Gyuvin knows that staying up all night waiting around for his mystery girl would be an invasion of privacy. At least he thinks the person who keeps leaving him baked goods and notes is a girl. Or maybe he’s just being hopeful that it’s you.

He’s never seen your handwriting before, but he’s been close enough to smell your perfume and he swears he can catch hints of it wafting off the sticky notes.

In fact, he’s started looking forward to Ricky kicking him out of their shared bedroom just because he knows he’ll be waking up to the sweetest surprise when he sleeps in the lounge.

Tonight’s party should be a good distraction from all of the wondering. Maybe, if he’s drunk enough, Ricky will be more embarrassing than alluring and Gyuvin will get to sleep in his own bed. Still, he can’t get this morning’s notes off his mind. 

You’ve left him clues, little doodles of your favorite things. Your coffee order, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. He’s hoping you’ll be at tonight’s party so he can see if you mention any of the stuff drawn out, but you never show up to these kinds of things.

That was before Ricky got involved. You stood outside the ZBO frat house wearing your worst sneakers and a baby pink minidress, as suggested by one of your suitemates.

If only you didn’t show up by yourself. There were a few familiar faces from class, and of course, the entire basketball team, but nobody you were really friends with. All you could focus on was how sticky the floor was and how much you needed a drink.

“Hi,” you say, finally making your way over to the bartender. It’s the team’s captain, Hanbin. “Just give me whatever tastes the best.”

“One rum punch it is,” he smiles, his whisker dimples making your heart flutter. Why was everybody on the team good looking? “Y/N, right?”

“Yep,” you say, taking the plastic cup from him. “You’re Hanbin. You know, I’ve been meaning to interview you, but you always seem so busy with other things at games.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be nearly as cute as when you interview Gyuvin,” he laughs, eyeing the line of guests waiting for their drinks. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks for the drink,” you say, holding it up in a sort of cheer before walking away. You take a sip and savor its sweetness, the liquor’s flavor blending in perfectly to the juice. Hanbin’s words stick with you. Were you and Gyuvin cute together?

Sure, he’s so tall that he practically towers over you, but he refuses to ever make eye contact and always keeps his replies so short and polite. Then again, he sure seems to write a lot in the notes that he doesn’t know are going to you.

For a second, you start to consider that you might actually have a chance with him, until you spot him with a beautiful girl touching his arm and whispering something in his ear. Before you can mope for too long, someone is tapping you on the shoulder.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls over the music. You turn to see Ricky grinning at you, his hair looking almost white under the lights. “You look good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent him from checking you out any further. He glances past you at his roommate.

“Don’t worry about her,” he assures you. You don’t know whether or not to believe him. “Gyuvin has never taken a girl home from these parties, let alone kissed one.”

That’s a relief. “Don’t you have a hook-up to hunt down?” you ask Ricky. He cocks an eyebrow at you, sipping his drink.

“Oh, Y/N. I keep my girls on speed dial,” he chuckles. You cringe at his playboy persona and for once in his life, Ricky is embarrassed. He shuts his mouth, hoping you can’t see him blush.

“Wow,” you say, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me young and rich, tall and handsome Shen Ricky can actually feel shame. I really wish I had a cameraman with me right now.”

“Like I said, it works on most people,” he attempts to reason. “You’re just immune to my charms, I guess.”

“Guess so,” you smirk, downing the rest of your drink. You glance behind your shoulder to see Gyuvin still talking to that girl, then back at Ricky, who’s deep in thought.

“Do you want to meet the rest of the team?” he asks, surprising you. You give a slight nod, and that’s all he needs to see before grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd.

At first, Ricky lingers as you make small talk with Matthew, Taerae, and Gunwook, and explains to you that Yujin is actually at home because he’s still in high school. You feel like a horrible journalist—have you been so preoccupied with Gyuvin that you didn’t notice there was a literal child on the team?

By now, Ricky’s abandoned you to go find something, or someone, more entertaining. He’s dropped you off with Jiwoong, the oldest player, who is as aloof as he is annoyingly handsome. The way he eyes you makes your stomach do cartwheels, and you’ve had enough to drink that you can’t see the harm in flirting with a cute boy.

He’s spewing some bullshit about meditating when you cut him off. “I like your hair,” you blurt out, catching him off guard. He turns and smiles at you for the first time since you started talking.

“You do?” he asks, running a hand through it. “I think it’s a little long. I might get a haircut soon.”

“Keep it like that,” you say, not taking your eyes off of him. “It looks good.”

Jiwoong is grinning now, but he remembers that you’re Gyuvin’s crush, and it would be totally wrong to kiss you no matter how badly he wants to. He eyes the crowd, searching for someone to save him from the tension. 

“Hao!” he says, grabbing a boy passing by and pulling him into the conversation. He looks familiar, but he’s certainly no basketball player. “Y/N, this is Zhang Hao. He’s our equipment manager. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Hao says, clearly caught off guard. “You’re the one who does the interviews, right?”

“That’s me,” you confirm. Jiwoong’s departure right when you thought he was going to kiss you was beyond bizarre. “I didn’t realize how many people knew me.”

“You’re basically a celebrity to the team,” Hao laughs. “They all think you’re pretty.”

“Makes sense,” you smile, sipping on your third drink of the night. “I am, in fact, very pretty.”

“Agreed. So, which one do you have your eye on?” he asks, leaning in to hear you better. “Or should I guess?”

“Go ahead and guess,” you say, eager to know what he thinks.

Hao takes a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s clear that you’re into Gyuvin based on the way you giggle at his seriously unfunny jokes, but you were also just eye fucking Jiwoong. Then again, wasn’t Ricky dragging you around earlier by the hand?”

“By the wrist,” you correct him. “And yes, I do like Gyuvin. But he’s been talking to some other girl the whole night.”

“He only has eyes for you,” Hao says immediately. This is the second time you’ve heard this tonight, but the first where it’s coming from a trustworthy source.

“And you?” you ask in return, shifting the conversation onto him. “Which one do you have a crush on?”

Hao’s eyes widen. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—I don’t—”

“Hao,” you cut him off. “You’ve glanced at Hanbin at least six times since this conversation started.”

He swallows, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“We talk all the time,” Hao mutters, looking down at his shoes. “I’m basically his personal assistant.”

“Do you talk about anything other than basketball?”

“No.”

“Do you even like basketball?”

“...No.”

“Hao,” you say, gripping him by the shoulders and turning him towards the drink station. “Go over there and get your man.”

—————-

As if it weren’t enough of a shock to Gyuvin that you actually showed up to a ZBO party, he’s had to spend all night watching you chat up the entire team except for him. 

They’ve no doubt let it slip to you that he has the biggest crush on you on campus, maybe even the entire world. But he’s way too nice to tell one of his classmates, who attends every game just to hold up a sign with his name on it, that he isn’t interested. 

That’s how he ended up nursing his drink with a tight lipped smile, listening to what’s-her-name ramble on about things that would be more interesting to probably anybody else, all while keeping an eye on you as you bounce around the party.

Your interaction with Jiwoong made him jealous beyond belief, and he makes a mental note that while he’s made his crush on you very clear to his teammates, you’re technically not his and free to flirt with whoever you want.

He watches as you grasp Hao and shake him, muttering some words of encouragement before sending him over to the bar. Finally, you’re alone again. It’s now or never.

“I have to go walk my dog,” Gyuvin lies, not even bothering to let the poor girl react before making his way over to you. You’re wearing pink, his secret admirer’s favorite color. Surely, it’s not just a coincidence. 

“Y/N,” he says a little too loud, startling you. You jump, accidentally knocking yourself into him. Both of your drinks go flying and suddenly, you’re covered in sticky red liquid. 

At this point, Gyuvin might as well just die alone. How did he manage to only spill his drink on you and not himself? He peers down at you, guilt written all over his face, as you take in what’s just happened.

“Here,” he says, reaching into his hoodie’s pocket and pulling out wadded tissues. “They’re clean, I promise. I have, uh, I’ve got allergies, so I carry around a ton.” 

He unfolds one and gently pats the liquid off of you without so much of a second thought. Your silence makes him panic even more, and he’s so focused on drying you off that he doesn’t even notice he’s basically rubbing the tissue on your cleavage.

Gyuvin freezes once he finally notices where his hand is, immediately pulling away and putting a good distance between the two of you. “I am so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not a pervert! Please don’t think I’m a pervert.”

“Gyuvin,” you finally say, your voice just as sweet as always. He’s pacing as much as he can with everybody packed in so tightly, his long legs taking tiny steps. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

He stops and looks down at you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Really,” you reassure him. “Although I might think you’re a klutz. Who knew Wakefield’s star basketball player was so clumsy off the court?”

“Technically, you bumped into me,” he asserts, his smile returning. “But you’re also the one who got soaked, so let’s just call things even.”

“Deal,” you agree. Sure, it’s fun when boys are obviously flirting with you, but the way Gyuvin has no clue what he’s doing is just so charming. It feels natural when you’re with him, a nice departure from the overused pickup lines and generic compliments that are usually thrown your way.

Gyuvin takes in your stained dress, the red punch seeping into the pink fabric like blood. You look straight out of a horror movie. 

“Here,” he says, shrugging off his varsity jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before taking in the sight of you. “Wow. You look so…”

“Silly?” you answer, the expanse of material wrapped around you like a tent. 

“Cute. You look so cute.” Gyuvin meets your eyes for a split second before looking away again, his ears now feeling even hotter than when he saw you with Jiwoong. “I can get you a new shirt, if you want. My room isn’t far from here.”

“You want me to go with you to your room?” you giggle, enjoying how flustered you make him. Hearing his teammates talk about how much he likes you has taken a weight off your shoulders, and you don’t know how you ever thought he wasn’t into you before.

“No! Well, yes, but only if you want to. And I’m not using this as an excuse to bring you back to my room. I just know you like pink and I have this one pink shirt that shrunk in the wash and I think you’d look really good in it. Plus, I can start a load of laundry and get your dress all clean.”

This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk, his voice a few pitches higher than usual when he’s rambling. Plus, if he knows how much you like pink, he must be following your clues. “Let’s go to your room, then.” 

—————-

While Gyuvin’s side of the room is much neater than you expected, Ricky’s side looks weirdly perfect. Not a single thing is out of place, with every item labeled or color coordinated. You’re shocked that two basketball players can manage to keep such a small room so tidy.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Gyuvin apologizes, moving to make his bed. “You can sit here.” 

“If this is what you think is messy, you don’t want to see my room,” you say, taking in all of the decorations. Usually, when you’re in a guy’s room, it’s all navy blue and manly movie posters, but Gyuvin’s walls are so colorful and covered in photos of his family and friends. 

One piece of paper catches your eye—the very first article you wrote about the basketball team. You scan his wall, catching more and more newspaper clippings, all penned by you. Gyuvin’s too busy putting things away and rustling through his drawers to notice you staring at them in awe.

“Here we go,” he calls out, turning and holding up a shrunken pink t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His grin fades as soon as he catches you reading one of your own articles, which have been on his wall for so long that he’s forgotten they’re even there. “Oh. Uh, please don’t think I’m a creep.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet. They’re all about you, anyway,” you say, turning to take the shirt from him. It has a picture of a silly looking greyhound on the front of it.

“Right,” Gyuvin says, shrugging off the interaction. He pulls himself onto the bed next to you, sitting cross legged and making sure to leave a gap between you and him. “That’s my dog, Eumppappa.” 

“Eumppappa is an amazing name,” you muse, turning to smile at him. Your faces end up being so close that Gyuvin thinks his heart has stopped beating. In his attempt to scoot back, he ends up tumbling off of his bed.

“Fuck,” he says as he lands on the ground. You peer down from the lofted bed at his long limbs sprawled across the rug. If you didn’t think he was a complete loser before, you probably do now.

“Are you okay?” you call out, watching as he sits up and rubs his head.

“I’m good,” Gyuvin assures you, taking a breather before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. “I’m going to step out and let you change. Let me know when you’re decent.”

“Will do,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up. You strip your clothes off, throwing on the t-shirt and sweats and pulling the drawstring until you know they won’t fall off of you. “You can come back in, Gyuvin!”

He stumbles in, practically waiting with his body pressed against the door for the moment he could see you again. God, could you really not tell how much he liked you before tonight?

Gyuvin eyes you drowning in his clothes and he knows that he’d move earth and heaven if it meant that you’re who he got to wake up to for the rest of his life. 

“I’ll go throw this in the washer and then we can head back to the party,” he stammers, snapping out of his daydream and grabbing your dress. Your smile is so pretty right now, even after all of his awkwardness, that it takes everything in him not to get hard just looking at you.

By the time he gets back from the laundry room, you’ve decided you don’t want to go back to the party, especially not dressed like this.

“Oh,” Gyuvin says, disappointed that his time with you has been cut short by his clumsiness. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”

“I live down the hall,” you remind him. You hope he doesn’t realize you could’ve just as easily grabbed your own change of clothes.

“Right,” he grimaces. He knows that. He’s always trying to time leaving his room perfectly so that he runs into you on the way to class.

Just like whenever you interview Gyuvin, there’s an awkward silence, except this time it can’t be edited out. He’s back to looking everywhere in the room except at you.

“It’s not even midnight,” you say, glancing at your phone’s lockscreen. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Like, together?” Gyuvin asks in disbelief. You nod, an amused smirk on your face. “Duh, of course you meant together. Yeah, sure, let’s watch a movie.”

Moments later, you’re sitting in the dark with Gyuvin, your legs pulled close to your chest as you watch Amélie projected onto the wall above Ricky’s bed. 

Every once in a while, Gyuvin lets himself relax, his arm or his leg brushing against you by accident. After spending half of the film pulling away out of fear that he’s bothering you, he finally settles for having his fingers barely touching yours. 

“You know,” he starts, his eyes still locked on the movie. “I kind of have my own mystery going on right now.”

“Really?” you say, feigning shock. “About what?”

“Someone keeps leaving me notes when I sleep in the lounge. Sometimes treats, but mostly notes. They don’t sign their name, but today they left me some little doodles as clues and I’ve been trying to figure them out.”

The way you’re reacting makes his stomach turn. How could it be you when you have a look on your face that says you have no clue what he’s talking about?

“Well, I’ve been meaning to work on my investigative journalism. What if I helped you track your secret admirer down?”

If you aren’t going to fall for him, he’ll at least settle for being friends. “That’d be awesome, Y/N.” 

Suddenly, Ricky comes crashing into the dorm room, his lips attached to some girl’s face. He pulls away from her for a second, barely registering that you’re even there, before pulling out his wallet and throwing a couple hundred dollar bills at Gyuvin. “Get out. Now.”

Before you can protest, Ricky’s already unbuttoning his shirt, and you’ll gladly evacuate if it means you don’t have to watch whatever freaky shit is about to go down.

“I didn’t know he pays you to sleep in the lounge,” you laugh, your arms full of Gyuvin’s comforter as you walk down the hall. “With that kind of money, he could just buy an apartment.”

“He could,” Gyuvin starts, holding his pillow in one hand and the stack of notes—your notes—in the other. “But then he wouldn’t get the true college experience. Plus, he only throws money at me when it’s a last minute thing.”

“How much was that, anyway? Like $300?” you ask. He stops and takes out his wallet.

“$400. Pretty standard,” he shrugs, counting the bills. Your eyes widen at the total.

“Are you going to share?” you pout. “I got kicked out too.”

“You can have it,” he says, handing you the money, his brain short circuiting at the way you bat your eyelashes at him. You marvel at the crisp bills. “This is just another Friday night for me.”

“Okay, young and rich, tall and handsome Kim Gyuvin. Thanks for buying my dinner for the rest of the semester!” You don’t know this, but if you asked him to, Gyuvin would buy you whatever you wanted.

Before you can get down to helping him figure out the doodles, or throwing him off your trail, the two of you are fast asleep. Instead of the lounge’s couch, Gyuvin curls up on the oversized bean bag on your bedroom floor. It’s much too small for his frame to actually be comfortable, but he somehow feels more content just being around you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @theresawtf @nerezza123 @gyvnexe @xiurmy-everything @wollycobbl3-blr @cloudgyubi @yunnie-11 @wheatrice

[wreckedandpolemic]

can't seem to get it right - matty healy

prompt: secret admirer

day 1 of the lovely @abiiors' valentine75 prompts!! i actually dont think this is very good i am very much a one trick pony in this space However i had fun writing it and thats what matters!!!

no warnings here this is v v short and sweet <3

Nauseated, you swat at the tacky, heart-shaped balloon as it drifts into your vision, ignoring its owner’s affronted scoff and stomping off down the hallway. Matty snickers behind you and you turn your glare on him. He holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “What’d that balloon ever do to you?”

You roll your eyes. “Fucking hate this week. It’s not even Valentine’s yet and this whole fucking place is full of dickheads who think their hormone-fuelled ‘love story’ makes them the centre of the universe. Just an excuse for brands to paint themselves pink and flog you shiny crap that’ll go in the bin after five seconds.” A strange look flickers across Matty’s face, but the bell rings sharply before you can question it. You trudge off to your class — double History, ugh — and don’t think on it for another moment.

The boy that sits across from you in History, Cameron, has a massive crush on you, flirts incessantly, flushes when you turn a smile on him. He’s not hard to look at, sweet-faced and kind, and not totally hopeless with a textbook, either. So, when he blushes and stammers his way through asking you out when you mention not having any Valentine’s plans, you think, this could be fun. “Is it gonna be worth my time?” you ask, leaning towards him and grinning when he flinches. “Convince me.” Eyebrows go up around the table at your challenge, Cameron smiling nervously and stuttering out something that passes for an affirmative. You flash your teeth, predatory. Maybe you shouldn’t play around with boys like this, but it’s so much fun. And they make it so easy.

The next morning, a card addressed to you has been slipped into your locker. The message is short, but sweetly poetic, witty in a way you hadn’t known Cameron could be. It’s unsigned, but the sentiment is adorable, and you make a mental note to get him a gift later. You catch sight of Matty sloping down the hall, and wave him over. “How sweet is this?” you say, smiling cheek to cheek. “Didn’t think he’d actually convince me to go on a date with him, but… Who knows? Might actually be fun.”

Matty’s face falls for a split second, before he rearranges it into smooth blankness that quickly crumples into confusion. “Wait– date? With who?” he demands. 

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Cameron. From my History. He’s nice.”

Matty scoffs. “I’m sure,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Your face scrunches, displeased. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sure he’s a top bloke, and you’ll skip off into the sunset holding hands and pop out a million adorable little blonde babies.”

You splutter a laugh, shoving him gently. “Don’t be a dick. He’s nice,” you repeat, fixing him with a glare. “I haven’t even agreed to the date yet, nobody’s skipping off into the sunset.”

Shrugging, Matty kicks idly at the row of lockers. “Yet,” he teases, and the brief flare of awkwardness between you melts away. “Listen, I really don’t feel like hanging around this shithole the rest of the day. Wanna come smoke?” he offers. You shouldn’t — you really shouldn’t — but that’s never stopped you before. Especially when it comes to Matty and the teasing grin he dares you with.

“Go on, then.” You shoulder your bag and follow Matty out of the gates, the short stroll to your favourite smoke spot passing quickly as you chat back and forth about nothing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going on a fucking date,” Matty tells you, voice thickened by the smoke pouring from his mouth.

“Oi!” you snap playfully. “Why’s that so unbelievable, huh?”

“Well, you’re hideous, for one,” he says, gasping when you stomp down hard on his foot. “I’m messing, I’m messing! You were the one being mardy about Valentine’s Day, like, yesterday, though.” He shrugs, passing you the last of the joint. 

Flicking away the roach, you blow out rings of smoke. “Yeah, I dunno. Probably won’t go, but it’s kind of nice being chased.” You scoff, leaning back against a tree. “I know you don’t have that problem, ‘cos you’ve got all your fuckin’ groupies.” A sharp edge creeps into your words at the end, and you bite the inside of your cheek to curb it. “But some of us aren’t used to that attention every second of the day, and we take it where we can get it.”

Matty shrugs. “Touche. Don’t think he’s worth your time, though,” he says, tone thick with something you can’t decipher through the weed-induced haze enveloping your mind.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Shut up, you dick.”

After dousing yourself in body spray to cover the weed smell, you let yourself into your house, stopping short at the bouquet that sits innocently under the hallway mirror. Red carnations bound around pink roses and an inexplicable spray of miniature daffodils, a muted pink ribbon tying them closed.

“Hi, love!” your mum shouts, appearing around the corner. “Those came for you while you were out. No name. Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” she grins, nudging you as you flush.

“It’s just this bloke from my History.” You wave a hand dismissively, but you can’t help smiling at the bouquet. “Trying to convince me to go out with him for Valentine’s.”

Your mum’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, eyes so wide it’s comical. “You? Valentine’s?” she says incredulously, face softening into a warm smile. “Love, that’s great. You’ll have such a good time,” she smiles.

You scoff. “Steady on, I haven’t said yes, yet.”

Smirking knowingly, your mum pads off into the kitchen, shouting back at you to be down for tea in an hour. You pick up the flowers on your way upstairs, arranging them delicately in a vase on your windowsill and snapping a quick picture. You debate texting Cameron a thank you, but decide against it — he sent them anonymously, after all.

Strangely, though, Cameron’s behaviour the rest of the week is at odds with the gifts that keep piling up. The chocolates aren’t a surprise, and nor is the single red rose laid across your desk, though maybe a little dramatic. But he doesn’t take credit for any of it, nothing in his face even indicating there’s anything he should be taking credit for.

That Friday, the last day Cameron has to convince you, a little, flat box finds its way into your schoolbag. You peel off the ribbon and find a delicate necklace nestled against deep blue velvet. It’s exquisite, a crystal pendant hanging off a thin silver chain. You slide into your seat in History, a little bemused, and smile at Cameron. He smiles back, twirling his hands nervously. “Everything was lovely,” you say, and his brow furrows in confusion. “The card, and the chocolates, and the flowers. I’d love to go out with you.” He breaks into a wide smile, sunlight practically beaming from his face. “But the necklace is too much — it must’ve cost a fortune!”

He blinks innocently at you. “Um, that’s great. I’d, um, love to take you out. But, uh, I didn’t get you any gifts,” he says, biting his lip.

Your head spins as you sift through your memories of the last week, reexamining them through a new lens. All at once, something clicks into place, and you bolt out of your seat. “I’m sorry,” you rush out. “I can’t go out with you. I’ve gotta– I need to go.” You shove your stuff back into your bag, leaving Cameron stuttering and baffled at your back, and dash off.

You find Matty where he usually is, tucked away in a practice room and engrossed in a guitar. Taking a second before he notices you outside the door, you fix the necklace around your neck and smooth your hair nervously. Should you put on some lipgloss? No, that’s crazy, right? It’s Matty. Your heart is racing, your mouth suddenly dry. How were you so fucking stupid? Of course fucking Cameron from History didn’t write that stupid card. 

Taking a deep breath to settle your nerves, you turn the handle of the practice room, and it rattles but stays closed. Locked, obviously. You clap a palm to your face; this is off to a terrible start. Then, Matty looks up, eyes lighting up as they find the pendant at the hollow of your throat, your heart melting at the sweetness in his face.

Matty stands up to open the door. “Hi,” he says, and all the tenseness melts from your body.

“It was you,” you whisper, collapsing into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. “All of those lovely things were you. And you let me bang on about fucking Cameron all week! Matty, I feel like a total idiot, I’m so sor–” Matty cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, tentative and gentle.

“Knew you’d figure it out eventually, love, smart girl that you are,” Matty murmurs against your lips, and you smile softly, face flushed. He pulls you close, his body warm against yours, and tugs you into the practice room, pressing you up against the door as soon as it clicks shut. 

You lose yourself in his kiss, his hands steady at your waist as you melt against him. His tongue parts your lips and sweeps your mouth, tasting faintly of cigarettes and spearmint gum. Breathless, you break away, a string of saliva briefly connecting your lips, and you giggle quietly as it breaks. “Thank you,” you murmur.

A dopey smile crosses his face. “You’re welcome,” he says, cupping your jaw and pulling you back in, kissing you so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. A quiet squeal escapes you when he dips his head to bite at your neck, and you indulge him for a moment before pushing his head away gently.

“Down, boy,” you say, giggling when he kisses over the necklace at the hollow of your throat.

Matty’s eyes shine hopefully as he looks down at you. “So,” he dips his head to kiss you. “Can I finally take you out?” He punctuates every word with a kiss, butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Widening your eyes, you look up at him with a pout that splits into a smile without your permission. “Well, my Saturday did just free up…” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. “I’d love to.” You stretch to your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Matty grins, his joy practically infectious, warming you through and melting your heart, leaving it dripping stickily down your ribs. His lips meet your neck again, his next words murmured against your bruising skin. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

[muffinsin]

Hi!

Imagine this: The reader works as a maid in the castle and lately has been receiving these unsigned letters and gifts. How would the reader react to finding out that the Cassandra Dimitrescu was her secret admirer all along? How would Cassandra react to being found out?

(Bonus points if the reader finds out because the reader overheard Cassandra’s sisters teasing her or accidentally stumbled upon Cassandra in the process of writing another letter/preparing another gift).

-Touch-starved Anon (I decided to keep it cause it’s memorable to me now).

Hiiiii! Ohh yes, we love some pining Cassandra! :)

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

It started, as most things with Cassandra, very intense

When one day you wake up screaming, a dead mouse dropped on your blankets, right by your legs

You kick it off immediately, your loud shriek alerting some of the maidens

Truly, they probably assume you have been caught and are being devoured

You cringe in disgust and worry at the dead animal now resting on your floor

At first, you believe it’s some sick and twisted prank

From the maidens?

You can’t be sure. Even they seem too human to do such a thing

This only leaves the other, inhuman inhabitants from the castle

Is this rat from the sisters?

Ah, but technically they aren’t allowed in the servant quarters- not that you would bet your life on this stopping them

But who?

You can’t imagine Lady Bela wastes her time on such pranks. She seems so…regal, like her mother

This only leaves the other two, the two younger sisters

The more unpredictable ones?

Yes, you doubt prim and proper Lady Bela would pull such a sick prank on you

Barely does she even interact with the staff

Cassandra and Daniela, however?

Quite possibly so.

You’re shook up and, with tears just barely not rolling down your cheeks, dispose of the “gift” found in your bed and thrown to your floor

You can only hope that whatever sister responsible, will lose interest in you soon enough

You know, after all, what it means to catch a sister’s eye

You know it means almost certain a couple missing limbs, if not death

Yet, more strange things seem to be happening over the course of a few weeks

You’re just finishing up scrubbing blood off a carpet in the main hall when suddenly, a crumbled piece of paper hits the back of your head

“Hey!”, you can’t help but automatically yell

You know, was it Lady Daniela, Cassandra or Bela who shot it, you’d be getting dragged in the basements just about now for your back talk

You look around, and find the hall completely empty, save for yourself

No maid is nearby, and no footsteps are heard

Upon uncurling the paper, you find text written on it, in messy, but admittedly cute-looking handwriting

“You’re pretty in certain angles x”

You frown at the slip of paper

You aren’t sure whether to feel flustered or offended, really

Still, you trace the messy handwriting on it

There’s smeared ink at some letters, and you can’t help but giggle- the o, u and a’s look so similar, you could easily mistake them for one another

The notes keep up

Often, you’re randomly shot by them, or they’re dropped someplace for you

Never do you see who writes them

Of course, you have a few maidens in mind

Yet, as you try to make advances through flirty words, they never seem interested

On the contrary, some even give you strange or even hateful looks

Oddly enough, these people begin disappearing more and more often around the castle

Then, of course, there are the gifts left out for you

It seems, the dead rat was only the start

Often you wake up to all kinds of gifts dropped at the side of your bed

It’s a little uncanny, the thought of someone being in your room while you are asleep, really

You ensure your door is locked, as is your window

Somehow, your secret admirer still finds a way inside

Then again, there are worse things to worry about at the castle

Thankfully, after a few scares of finding more rats and birds at your bed and window, the gifts become a little more- romantic, and less disturbing

Flowers, beautiful ones set down on your nightstand

Either a beautiful, large bouquet, or small single ones scattered in your bed

Then, one day you open the small, white box set on the foot of your bed, and gasp upon seeing what is inside of it

A beautiful, silver ring with a yellow gemstone in it

You hold it gently

You can tell, it’s probably worth more than your life and all your possessions

Yet-

You can’t bring yourself to sell it

You know, it would make plenty money for you to live comfortable

To not need to work at the castle

But…it’s a gift. A beautiful one at that

Therefore, you wear it proudly, and only hide it in your pocket when you are worried it could be dirtied

More gifts and note come your way

“You have nice skin”

“You smell well”

“The ring suits you perfectly”

“I like your eyes”

“Your hair is beautiful”

Necklaces and flowers

Pralines and fresh food no other maiden receives

You savor each taste

You can’t help but burn with curiosity- who is your secret admirer?

It seems, it’s almost time your questions are answered

When you are summoned to Cassandra’s room to clean, you feel shivers run down your spine

There is a certain, open secret at the castle. You know- maidens usually do not return from her room

Will you be the same?

You consider yourself lucky when you enter her room and find it empty

You gaze at the blood on the carpet and floor, the mess of papers and weapons dropped from her desk

The fireplace will also need to be lit, and her bed will need to be made

The floor is- easy enough

It’s a lot of blood, and hard work, that involves a lot of scrubbing

Still, you consider yourself lucky. Cassandra doesn’t seem in any rush to return to her room

Little do you know, the unusually shy woman’s heart is beating fast from the other side of the hall, adamant on avoiding you until you move from her room

You too, though, are in no rush

Her room is- comfortable, despite the blood and weapons, the trophies of animals hung on the walls

It’s warm, and quiet

You continue on with her bed, and savor the touch of her thick, heavy blankets

The sheets are soft, and the pillows large

Her bed is fit for a princess. You can’t help but smile at the thought- all sisters, it seems, are spoiled endlessly

You also can’t help but inhale the subtle scent surrounding her pillows

They smell of the woods, and of rich perfume

Yet, the smell is comforting, and doesn’t sting in your nose

With a blush covering your cheeks, you readjust her pillows and move on to her desk

You bend down to pick up some of the papers off the floor, yet find yourself with your arm frozen in the air and your fingers twitching slightly

You recognize the paper on the floor. The crumbled, partly ripped one. The light blue colour of it remains

It’s burned in your mind now

But- why would she have this? Have there been more notes? Did she take them before they could reach you?

But…it doesn’t explain the empty paper on her table and the pencils around it

Has…Cassandra been writing them?!

But surely not. Surely Cassandra Dimitrescu would not be interested in you…?

But, what if?

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out

“The ring looks suist suits you perfectly”

You can’t help but smile at the spelling mistake. It’s adorable, and you can’t stop the grin on your lips

You unfold another

“I hope you like the flowers. The flowers aren’t as pretty as you. You’re a flower”

You smile. She seems undecided with this one. It’s a little adorable, you can’t help this thought

You know, you shouldn’t think of someone as Cassandra Dimitrescu as cute, but…

The thought of her starting over her sentences, over and over again because she can’t settle on something

You can’t help but pocket this one, and dispose of the rest to clean

You know, it’s your task to clean her room. It doesn’t mean you can have a little fun though, now you know who your secret admirer is

With a small grin, you take a slip of paper and a pencil

“You’re beautiful, too”

You groan. This feels by far too lame, but you’ve already written it down

Still, you turn away. Very well, then. It will have to do

Days pass, and the notes keep on, as well as the gifts

Still, Cassandra won’t approach you directly

You grow impatient, almost

It seems, despite her Playgirl reputation, Cassandra is by far more hesitant and shy as it comes to proper courting

You don’t mind, now you know who your secret admirer is

Cassandra has no time to prepare herself when you knock on her door, and for a moment, shamefully considers acting as though she isn’t there

She curls the paper in her hand, having just been in the process of writing another note

Then, at last, she opens the door with a smirk that looks more confident than she feels

“My, what is the darkness bringing me this fine night”, she teases, her lean frame leaning against the doorway

You feel your breath hitch

From her notes, you expected a shy Cassandra. Not a fierce predator

“I-I got your notes”, you whisper

A flash of surprise crosses her face for a moment, and you’re granted to see the vulnerability in her eyes for merely a split second

Little enough that, had you blinked, you’d have missed it

Alas, you did not miss it

You figure, now or never

With confidence only the notes and the ring around your finger grant you, you push gently against her collarbone

Cassandra is visibly surprised by this, and allows you to push her backwards into the room

You try not to think of how dangerous this could bed should you be wrong. If she is not your secret admirer…

You try not to doubt yourself as you close the door behind you and look back into her slightly widened, surprised golden eyes

She seems like a deer caught in the headlights, too surprised by this maiden’s courage to function

You eagerly make use of this

“Did you get mine?”, you whisper back

She’s shocked, and gasps when you move closer to her and set your hand on her hip

She nods, shakily

You can’t help but think she’s adorable this way

For a moment, she shakes her head and stands straighter

A squeeze of her hip is enough to make her fall back into her rather submissive, curious state

“Did you like them? I liked yours a lot”, you ask, your words true

Yet, Cassandra doesn’t seem to feel like answering

She’s looking quite shocked, adorably so

As though she believed her attempt at flattering and wooing you wouldn’t lead to anything

You can’t help but take small advantage of this. You’re so curious about her

Cassandra tugs her arm for a moment as you grasp her hand, her eyes widening a little when you feel the paper underneath her fingers

Now you feel surprised, too

“I want to taste your lips”

You tilt your head a little, and she follows your movement. A small blush covers her cheeks, and her eyes don’t quite meet yours

You decide, now or never

“Ah~!”, she gasps when you grasp her lower back and pull her closer, her lips smudged against yours

It seems, this brings her back to what is happening

Her hands, having hovered in the air, now rest on your hips and pull you closer to her at last

You smile against her lips. You too, wanted to taste hers

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Donna has been leaving unsigned letters and little plushies she’s sewn for the reader for quite a while now. One day, the reader manages to find catch her in the act and is surprised that her secret admirer is a Lord. From there on, their relationship progresses until they eventually have their first time (And the reader pegs GP! Donna).

Yes!!!! thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Your beautiful secret admirer

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut (at the end), Minors DNI, fluff…

Word count: 5,554

Summary:  Who was she? Who was sending you those beautiful love notes?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I love you all!!! :))

“You had a great idea, Donna,” you said, smiling before taking a sip of wine from your glass.

The woman in black smiled back, blushing in the candlelight.

“It's a great night for an outdoor dinner,” she explained, with a shy whisper, as you were used to.

“Oh...” You sighed, feigning disappointment. As expected, that sigh made Lady Beneviento frown in confusion.

“What? What’s wrong?” She asked, cautiously studying your gestures.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“You could have said something more romantic,” you joked, crossing your arms, but with a tender look.

Donna blinked repeatedly, looking for something to say. You knew her. You knew she had gotten nervous.

“I... I...” She stammered.

“I’m just kidding,” you said, tapping her nose with your finger, bringing her back to reality. She laughed softly, offering you a small piece of chocolate cake. You raised your eyebrows.

“Would you like a dessert?” The lady in black asked, clearing her throat for that awkward moment.

“Sure,” you said enthusiastically, dipping the spoon into the cake. “Hey, how did you know I liked this cake?”

Donna shrugged with an innocent look.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the sweetness that put the finishing touch to that romantic dinner on the grounds of the estate.

“Did you make it?” You asked curious. She nodded proudly. “Wow, it's spectacular.”

After a romantic moment of silence, of looking at each other by the candlelight, you sighed, looking up at the stars.

“You know what? It still seems incredible to me how we met,”  you murmured, leaning against her shoulder and leaning on it, ready to wander through your memories, to remember how you ended up in that situation, madly in love with one of the village Lords...

Some time ago…

“In life…” You repeated with a tired voice, at the same time as the rest of the villagers, but perhaps, with less enthusiasm. “…And in death we give glory… Mother Miranda. Damn, it’s so boring...”

“(Y/N), don't say that,” your friend snapped, nudging you.

“It's always the same, Elena, I'm tired of coming here to fool around every Sunday,” you whispered, sighing boredly.

“It's what we have to do. She protects us,” your friend said, making sure no one was listening to your words.

“Yes, yes, yes...” You said, shaking your head. “Are we leaving now?” You asked amused, when the rest of the villagers stood up from her seats, bowing respectfully at the priestess and her companions.

“Today's sermon was fantastic, don't you think?” The girl asked, accompanying you to the exit. You closed your eyes and swallowed another profanity.

“Hey, if you like Mother Miranda so much, just marry her,” you joked, amused. She looked at you with an offended expression.

“Someday they are going to punish you for your lack of faith,” Elena said. Fortunately, she was already used to your attitude.

“Oh yeah, who? The almighty Mother Miranda or one of her creepy minions?” You asked ironically.

“You should respect them, they take care of the village,” your friend protested, stopping walking. You rolled your eyes, looking towards the old church.

“But they're creepy,” you said with a dark tone, feigning chills.

“Stop complaining and let's go to Luiza's house, I heard that she bought those pies again.”

“That's definitely the best part of attending these sermons,” you said, reaching out to where your bag was supposed to be. It was not. “Oh…”

“What's wrong?” Elena asked, still upset by your comments.

“I forgot my bag, wait for me here,” you said, running back to the old chapel.

You couldn't help but feel a bit afraid. You knew that Miranda and her Lords were still there. Just because you didn't believe the winged woman's word didn't mean that deep down she terrified you.

“Intruder!” A shrill voice made you shrink in place, a voice that came from that creepy doll that was always with one of the Lords, with Lady Beneviento. The terrifying eyes of all of them fell on you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that...” You stammered, standing in place, intimidated by all the eyes on you.

“Out! Out!” The doll squealed again, jumping in the arms of its owner.

“I Just, I just came to get my bag...” You said, closing your eyes and regretting having joked a few minutes before.

You could hear a disinterested murmur and luckily, those bright eyes stopped landing on yours. One of the terrifying figures, the lady in black, owner of the doll, approached slowly, walking among the wooden benches.

Your body trembled when that black shadow walked close to you again. It was time to repent of your sins, surely.

“I didn't mean to interrupt, I...” You said with a broken voice, closing your eyes to avoid a painful death. Nothing happened. When you opened them, that mourning lady was in front of you, mysterious, with that black veil covering her face.

In her hands was your bag, and after a tense and strange moment, she extended it towards you.

“I... Well... Thank you,” you said, taking the bag from her pale hands. The lady nodded slightly and turned, walking away from you again.

Just before your legs were able to move again, you could see how the lady slowly turned around, looking at you again before rejoining her siblings.

“Okay...” You said relieved, seeing the sunlight above your head again.

All your days were a horrible routine. Work, pray, eat, sleep. For a girl like you, without family for a long time (suspiciously related to the lack of faith that you yourself inherited) you couldn't ask for more in life. Your years of wondering about the outside world passed. Surviving, and doing it in the best way possible, was your true priority.

You had friends, good friends, in the village you were one more girl, and well, you could say that you were happy in your own way.

One day, one morning, you woke up, had breakfast and looked out the window of your small cabin. Snow, wind, an extremely well-tended orchard, everything seemed in order, at least until you opened the door, tripping over something.

“What?” You asked. You bent down to pick it this thing up.

It was a rose, a bright rose that stood out beautifully on the snow. It didn't seem like the wind had blown it right to your door, and even more so when you found a small note tied to the stem. You smiled in amusement and looked around for the possible prankster. Nothing, no one, you were alone.

You shrugged and curiously untied the note, opening it slowly, with trembling hands.

Sono pazza di te

You read it over and over again, but you didn't understand it. You frowned and looked at the rose, then to the note again. You shrugged, sighing in surprise and confusion. At least that day didn't start like all the others. You spent the morning trying to decipher that message, thinking about who could have such elegant handwriting so different from your friends'. You might not have cared, maybe you thought it was a joke, but deep down, you knew it wasn't.

“Well, I'm going to prepare the tea,” Luiza, the most cultured woman in the village, but also the kindest, said.

“Wait, wait,” you said hurriedly, clutching the mysterious note in your pocket. “Let me help you.”

The woman nodded gratefully and you followed her into the kitchen.

“Hey, Luiza...” You said while she boiled the water. You were embarrassed for having to ask her for help, and for showing that note that seemed so private, but, if you wanted to know what exactly it said, Luiza was your only solution. “You… You  know languages, right?”

The woman looked at you smiling and nodded, instructing you to grab some cups from a nearby cupboard.

“Well, saying that I know languages ​​is overestimating me, (Y/N). We could say that I have read a lot,” she said with that kind and reassuring tone.

“Could you…?” You asked in a lower tone, preventing the people in the next room from hearing you. “Well, I found this note in my house and...” You whispered, taking out the paper wrinkled by nerves. “I don't know what it says.”

“Mm, let me take a look,” the woman said, taking the note from your sweaty hands.

“I think, I think it's Italian but...” You murmured, observing Luiza, who seemed to be cracking a smile.

“Yes, it is,” she said amused, returning the note to you. “You say you found it in your house?”

You put that paper back in your pocket and rubbed your hands, searching the corners for any prying eyes.

“Yes, well, yesterday morning it was at my door...Next to...” You thought before revealing in detail what you had found. Luiza wasn't going to judge you. You wouldn't lose anything by telling her. “Next to a rose.”

“Oh..." the woman sighed, laughing softly. “That makes sense.”

“Why do you say so? What does it say?” You asked nervously, confused by the woman's attitude. She seemed to have fun at your expense.

“I'm crazy about you,” Luiza said with a seductive tone, raising her eyebrows and with a strange smile. You shook your head, even more confused. “It seems like someone really appreciates you, (Y/N)...”

“What? Oh, I…” You said, scratching the back of your neck. “But who? It’s not signed.”

“I don't know, honey,” the woman said, putting the cups on a tray. “I think whoever wrote that had no intention of telling you its name, don't you think?” She said, as if stating the obvious.

You blinked, taking out the note again.

“Great, a secret admirer...” You sighed, feeling something strange in your chest. No one had ever told you something like that.

“A female admirer, (Y/N). Pazza is feminine,” Luiza corrected, confusing you even more. Obviously the entire village was aware of your preferences. It could be a sinister place, but given the strange things going on there, no one was fazed by your interest in women.

“A woman... A woman who writes in Italian...” You thought out loud.

Luiza crossed her arms, delaying taking the tray to your friends a bit. She seemed quite interested in the conversation.

“Do you know who she could be?” She asked, with amused curiosity.

You shook your head, after reviewing all the inhabitants of the place one by one.

“I have no idea,” you said defeated, lowering your head.

“Wait, maybe it's...” The woman said, her expression changing into an intriguing one, as if she had just had a revelation. You looked at her expectantly.

“Who?”

In an instant, Luiza shook her head, making a gesture with her hands and smiling innocently, as if she had regretted what she was about to say.

“No, no, what a nonsense. Forget about it, (Y/N),” she said hurriedly, grabbing the tray. “Come on, you don't want to keep your friends waiting any longer, do you?”

You nodded resignedly.

Well, having a secret admirer was an extra point for your self-esteem, but this wasn't how you thought the week would start.

It could have been an anecdote, a bad joke. You thought about your friends, maybe Elena. Nothing, each option was less likely than the previous one.

The days went by and you started to feel the need to look down every time you opened the door. There were no more roses, no notes. At least until 4 days later.

“Oh, what the…?” You said, unable to help but smile. Yes, that day there was something at your door, something different. It looked like a doll. It didn't look purchased, it looked handmade. “A doll?” You asked yourself, amused.

Next to that doll's hands, there was a closed envelope. The tone of the paper was the same as the previous note. The same person, the same woman, without a doubt.

I hope you are pleased with my gift. Your eyes, your hair, your smile... I can't forget them. I remember them every day, every night. In everything I think, in everything I do, I look for your beauty

“Wow...” You sighed, pleased to read that phrase in your language, feeling a sudden nervousness, the need to discover the identity of that woman who said she thought so much about you. Nothing, there was no initial, no clue to that person's identity. You only had one doll, one you had barely noticed.

You placed it on the table where you used to eat, plopping down on one of the chairs. When you looked closer at that toy, you noticed something curious. Looking down at your dress, and then at the doll's, it dawned on you.

“It's me...” You said with a frown, checking that each of the motifs on your dress matched the doll’s in a disturbingly exactly way.

The vase where you put that rose was increasingly full of flowers and the drawer where you kept the notes was already chaos.

For weeks, you had been receiving roses, gifts, dolls, plushies… All of them accompanied by notes of love, of admiration, by notes without a signature, without an owner. You were excited and nervous. You just hoped it wasn't a joke. You wanted it to not be a joke.

“In the darkness of the night, I no longer look for the stars or the moon, I only look for your eyes,” You commented to Elena, sitting on one of the church benches, repeating the last note you had received.

“Wow... It seems like whoever it is is completely in love,” your friend said, nudging you, pretending to listen to Miranda's sermon.

“It's incredible, don't you think?” You whispered, confused, looking at each and every one of those present villagers, looking for a clue that would tell you who the culprit was.

“Who can it be?” Your friend asked.

“I don't know...” You sighed, noticing how the villagers' gazes focused on you.

“(Y/N), the offering,” Elena said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“What? Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head and taking the box of vegetables that served as a contribution to please the priestess.

Little by little, you approached the altar, but not before glancing askance at all the people you passed. You climbed one step, then another, breathing nervously. You didn't like getting close to that group of creepy people at all, much less to Mother Miranda.

“Mother Miranda, I offer you my work. I hope my offering is to your liking,” you said half-heartedly, making a false bow.

“Thank you, your work makes me happy,” the priestess responded, putting a hand on your shoulder to get you up.

You nodded and did so, but not before feeling a chill, a cold sweat on your back that forced you to turn your head towards one of the chairs where the Lords sat. On it, there was that woman in black, Lady Beneviento. Despite the veil that covered her face, you could feel her gaze. You could feel her eyes on yours.

When you looked at her too, walking more slowly, the woman looked away, pretending to reassure her excited doll. Something strange, that made your heart race. You didn't give it any importance. You were still worried about your secret admirer.

When you returned home, you realized that this whole situation was beginning to overwhelm you. The doubt, the mystery, that was fine for a day, even a week. But you had been receiving gifts, love notes for too long. You wanted to know who she was, and you wanted to know it right then.

Drawing logical conclusions, knowing that all of that stuff couldn't arrive at your door by magic, you decided to make a sacrifice and give up your dream, just for one night, in the hope that your admirer would appear.

You stayed alert, without putting on clothes to sleep, looking from the bed at that collection of dolls, flowers and plushies you had accumulated.

Just when you thought your eyes would close on their own, a rustling sound coming from your garden startled you, making you subtly slide out of bed.

“There you are...” You whispered.

It could only be your admirer, but you also knew the beasts that roamed the village at night. It would be better to be ready. Carefully, and trying not to trip over the furniture, since you were in the dark, you grabbed one of the garden tools, in the unlikely event that you had to defend yourself.

Slowly, and without making a sound, you left through the back door to go around the cabin and catch the person you were hearing walking. You peeked around a corner and your whole body started to shake.

The full moon revealed the culprit. That woman, Donna Beneviento, Lord of the village, fearsome servant of Mother Miranda, was crouching right at your door, leaving a note on top of one doll.

“It can't be possible,” you said with a mixture of surprise and curiosity “You?”

You had imagined a villager. You even thought that Luiza had something to do with that. But no, it was her, it was Lady Beneviento. She was a Lord who had fallen in love with you, or had worked for weeks to make you think that way.

You couldn't be still, you needed explanations. You needed to know what she was playing at, if she was torturing you, if... If what her notes said was true.

Taking advantage of the darkness, you crouched in the corn plants, trying not to be seen. The lady in black sighed sadly, and she slowly turned around to make her way back.

“Hey!” You shouted, unable to contain your curiosity, leaving the small corn field. The lady panicked, looking you and turning around, running away when you started chasing her. “Hey, wait, wait!” You called desperately to the woman, who was fleeing from you in a somewhat ridiculous chase.

The woman in black gasped when, in one of her steps, she tripped, falling to the ground comically.

“Oh...” You said, braking, trying not to trip too. “Hey, hey, are you okay?” You asked, crouching down next to her and slowly turning her over.

The veil on her face had moved. What no one was able to do in so many years, you did in a few minutes. You saw the true face of Lady Beneviento.

Her beauty amazed you. It made you feel a prick in your heart. You never imagined she was so beautiful, not even her horrible scar could make you look away.

The woman, gasping in fear, retreated, crawling back with a look of fear, of genuine terror. Funny, she must have been the one scaring you.

“Hey, hey, come on, calm down,” You said, grabbing her wrist and pulling it so she would stop dragging on the floor. “Don’t, don't be afraid.”

A sob made you realize that your words had been of no use. The lady in black shoved you with an angry gasp, making you fall to the ground and getting up to flee again.

“Ah, no... You're not going to escape,” you growled, getting up and running after her again.

In a last ditch attempt to stop your now well-known admirer, you grabbed her waist, knocking her to the ground again and pinning her against it. You were too nervous. You weren't even thinking about who you had just tackled.

“Okay, okay, that's enough,” you said, breathing hard, fighting against her erratic movements, which were desperately trying to separate you from her body. “It was you…”

She shook her head, breaking out of your hold to put on her veil. Too late. In one swift movement, you grabbed her wrist again, stopping her from covering herself.

“Be still, come on... I just want to talk,” you said, looking at her only eye shining with the midnight light. She was the beauty, not you. Those notes were wrong. “You… You sent me the notes, right? It was you…”

She stopped moving, sobbing in shame, finally nodding.

“Well... Hey, those things you said... Do you really think that way about me? You?”

Donna nodded again, stopping resisting.

“Okay, I'm, I'm a bit confused...” you said, relaxing your posture too, but staying on top of her. “You are Donna Beneviento. You are... You are a Lord...”

She didn't respond, her expression becoming more and more broken.

“You can't feel something for me. You don't know me...” You said nervously, brushing your hair away from your face. “I don't…”

“I don’t need to know you. Your look is the light that illuminates my darkness,” she said, whispering in a low voice, confirming again that she was the one who gave you those things.

“Wow, I... I don't know what to say,” you said laughing, blushing at the compliment. “Well... Donna, right?” You said, clearing your throat. “Why don't you come to my house so we can talk?”

“Why would you want to do that?” She asked, with a cold look, doubting about your intentions.

“Well because... I think, I think I would like to know you...”

That was the way it started. Some love notes, some gifts, a feeling that little by little became mutual. Over time, you abandoned your cabin, only to want to live in Donna's arms. A dangerous Lord, dangerously in love.

You sighed intoxicated by her perfume, by her illuminated beauty in the light of the candles. She just caressed you, kissed your hair. You didn't know how long you had been remembering how you got there.

“(Y/N), you're shivering, are you cold?” She said with a tender voice, rubbing your arms and taking you out of your memories.

“Maybe...” You said, being aware of how quickly the temperatures had dropped. “But you know what? I think if I get a little closer...” You whispered, adjusting yourself to kiss her, to kiss her tenderly, but also with passion, with the recent emotion of remembering how your romance had started.

“Whenever I remember those notes...” You said, making her back rest on that small picnic blanket, climbing up her hips. “Ugh, my heart beats very fast.”

She laughed amused, but with a strange gleam in her eyes. Maybe it was because of the position you were in, or maybe it was because, after saying that phrase, you couldn't stop kissing her, caressing her.

After a few moments of gasping and a considerable increase in temperature, you opened your eyes in surprise, noticing something that began to press between your legs. When you realized it, you smiled, in a mischievous and seductive way.

“Wow... It seems like you like my kisses so much.”

She realized what had happened, what was happening, and she crawled for you to get off her body.

“I'm sorry,” she said embarrassed, bringing her knees to her chest. “It was unintentionally…”

“Hey, come on, Donna, it's okay. I already knew about that. It's not the first time your body reacts that way...” You said, kissing her shoulder and looking at her affectionately, caressing her cheek.

“Did you know it?” She asked curiously, relaxing her posture, letting your hand rub her back. You nodded, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes and... Well, I was wondering if... If you would like to... Well...” You said, this time blushing, wishing you didn't need to finish the sentence.

“I...” Donna said, avoiding your gaze, her voice breaking. “I don't know if I'm ready for that. My, my body is different and you may, you may not like it. Besides, I never...”

You interrupted her with a kiss, letting out that desire that you had been coming with for a long time. Donna was gentle and respectful. She never made any reference to taking that step with you, and you understood why.

“I'm sure your body is beautiful,” you said seductively.

“But, but I have...” She said, nervous again.

“Come on, Donna...” You interrupted again, pulling her hand and blowing out the candles. “There is only one way to clear up doubts.”

Slowly but nervously, you returned to the Beneviento estate, without speaking, without saying a word. That night was going to be special. For you, and for her. Saying it was also your first time would only make things worse. You needed Donna to be calm, and that's what you wanted.

After turning on the light in the dark bedroom, you sat on the bed, sighing, looking at the shy woman in front of you.

“Come on, honey, I want to see you,” you said in a soothing voice.

“Do you mean that you want me to get naked? In front of you?” The lady in black asked strangely, grabbing her dress tightly, containing all her emotions, all her nerves.

“Yes, Donna,” she agreed, taking her hand and caressing it gently. “Let me see how beautiful you are.”

“I... I...” She said, even more nervous. After that, she closed her eye and nodded, bringing her hands to the buttons of the black dress.

You realized that maybe it was too much for her and you stood up slowly, gently grabbing her shoulders.

“Hey, hey, you don't have to do it. I can wait until you're ready,” you whispered in her ear. She thought about it, but she smiled slightly, shaking her head.

“No, (Y/N)... I... You're right, I... I want to love you,” she explained. “But I'm afraid…”

“Don't be, Donna,” you said softly, giving her one last kiss before sitting down again. “I want to admire the beautiful woman you are…”

She nodded, taking a deep breath and finishing off her buttons, getting rid of the sleeves and checking every once in a while to see how you were looking at her. You couldn't do it any other way. Your eyes expressed just love.

Then, her bra disappeared, falling to the floor next to her dress. She was almost a goddess. If you could choose who to worship, it would be her. Not Miranda, just her, just Donna.

“You're so beautiful...” You sighed, running your gaze over her body. Her nerves were still evident, but little by little she was gaining confidence, surely increased due to your gaze.

Donna smiled, bringing her hands to the last piece of clothing covering her body. Closing her eye and suppressing her embarrassment, she removed her underwear, leaving herself completely exposed to your gaze.

You stood up, caressing her cheek, continuing to memorize every corner of her body.

“Can you help me with this dress?” You asked seductively, kissing her slowly, keeping her body very close to yours. Donna nodded, undoing the knot that kept your nakedness hidden.

Then it was your bra, then your underwear, then nothing.

Nothing separated you anymore. The kisses only warmed your naked bodies. The caresses explored each of their corners, the sensation of being skin to skin made you feel her desire to have you against your humidity again. You weren't going to make any comments, nothing that would make her nervous.

You just wanted to kiss her, caress her, tell her with your actions how much you wanted her, how much you wanted to know how she would feel inside of you, loving you fully,

Walking backwards, you fell onto the bed, dragging Dona with you, always keeping her attached to you, her body with yours, sharing the same warmth, the same desire.

Her kisses became uninhibited, moving down to your neck, to your chest. Her hands remained respectful, staying around your breasts almost without caressing them, as if it were an impure act, something that could tarnish her feelings.

“Touch me, Donna,” you whispered in her ear, running a finger along her back, causing her body to tremble, making her erection even more noticeable against your leg. “I want to feel you on my whole body.”

She didn't say anything, she just gasped as your ungodly hands thought first, running over her chest, grabbing, caressing every inch of her pale skin, with less shame, at least that's what it appeared to be.

She obeyed, throwing herself at your neck again, kissing it desperately, repressing the involuntary impulse of her hips that made them move making contact with your skin in her most intimate area.

“You are the love of my life...” The brunette whispered, sitting up to cup your face in her hands. Her body rested on top of yours, calmer, but anxious, almost as much as yours.

“You are too, Donna...” You said, making her smile widen, making he to share with you the most beautiful and sincere smile you had ever seen.

“I want to make love to you,” she said with a nervous tone, with the movements of her hips beginning to get out of control. “There is nothing else I want to do at this moment…”

You nodded, moving into a more comfortable position, spreading your legs so her erection was aligned with your wetness. She moaned at the sensation, letting herself be guided by her instincts, playing at your entrance, seeking approval in your eyes.

“Be gentle. It's my first time,” you said, when a sudden nervousness began to cloud the pleasure you were feeling. You supposed to feel that way was logical.

Donna looked at you confused, but she nodded, leaning down to kiss you before slowly introducing the tip, making her almost grunt in pleasure.

“It's... It's incredible...” She murmured as she felt your body so close to hers, beginning to merge into just one body.

You also moaned from the pleasure of her heat in yours, from those impure caresses that her body made in yours. Fear turned to desire, making you move to feel her more, just a little more inside of you.

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly as she moved deeper and deeper into you, causing that little sting you feared so much, the pain of having lost your innocence. You couldn't help but wince.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, tesoro,” Donna said, unable to pull back or stop moving. Her desire was already unbearable and so was yours. It was what you expected, you didn't want to stop.

“Don't be sorry, Donna...” You said, relaxing your body so it could move, letting your walls adjust to this unknown intruder. “It's... It's... Oh...” You moaned, when she finished entering you, moaning and closing her eye due to the pleasure.

Your wetness was enough that, after a few seconds, your body asked Donna to move.

“Do you want me to stop?” She asked worried, fighting with all her might not to move, to respect your wishes.

“No, no... I think, I think you can move now...” You said nodding now grabbing the sheets, forgetting about the pain, exchanging it for an overwhelming pleasure.

She obeyed, moving slowly, traveling your walls in a hot, sensual, slow but intense dance.

Your body forgot about worries and began to follow her movements. Your moans began to sound along with hers and your hands released the sheets to cling to her, kissing her as she took you carefully, lovingly, as only Donna was capable of doing.

“It feels so, good... Your, your body is perfect...” Donna said, confused by all those new sensations, grabbing your legs with her hands, lightly digging her nails into your skin while her hips moved faster.

“Donna…. You are... Oh, Gods... I love having you inside of me,” you said, embarrassed by that involuntary rudeness, which only made the brunette laugh, going down to your neck, kissing your lips, letting your bodies hug each other, your legs wrap around her waist so this feeling wouldn't dare to leave you.

In a short time your breathing became agitated and the pleasure you felt became unbearable, eager to get out, to take you to heaven itself. Her movements also changed, becoming erratic, trembling as she felt your walls tightening due to your imminent orgasm, your first orgasm, at least in company.

“I'm so close, (Y/N)...” Donna murmured, lifting your legs and placing them on her shoulders, accentuating the movements of her hips. “I think I'm going to…”

Her eye opened suddenly and a loud gasp filled the room. Her movements ceased, holding herself inside of you as a wave of heat began to fill you. That was what made your own body tense, defeated by the feeling of her seed, of her release taking over your insides, claiming your body as hers.

“Donna...” You whispered, caressing her cheek, moving her head away from your shoulder. It was there just before she released, wanting to hold you, to feel you while she was filling you.

“(Y/N)...” Donna whispered, breathing still heavy, looking at you with admiration and some fear. “It, it has been…”

“It has been wonderful...” You finished the sentence, moving so she came out of you, noticing how the humidity left your body shamefully. Donna nodded, lying on top of you, letting your arms protect her body from any bad thoughts, from the shame of her first time.

“Do you know what I'm remembering?” You asked after a few minutes of relaxation, playing with her hair with your fingers.

“Mm?”

“That first rose you sent me...” You said with a smile, relaxing your body completely. She looked at you and smiled shyly, kissing you on the lips.

“I would send you thousands of roses, (Y/N)...”

[knifedancer]

Unsigned Gifts

Marinette has a secret admirer that keeps giving her really thoughtful gifts with no signature. But who is it?

OR

The five times Marinette received unsigned gifts and the one time she guessed who all the gifts were from.

AO3 Link

~~~First~~~

It all started one day when Lila and her lackeys broke her favorite marking pens. Not that she had any proof, except for the cruel light in Lila’s eyes and the way certain classmates weren’t meeting her eye – and hiding their hands in their laps – as she discovered the mess near the back of the classroom. Marinette had returned to the classroom after lunch and found the set of marking pens that her grandmother given her snapped in half, their vibrant inks smeared into a grotesque brown all over her desk surface. Luckily it wasn’t the whole set, but her favorite colors were in her bookbag for work on a commission… The bluenette hid her glistening eyes, not allowing a single tear to escape, as she began to wipe what she could from the desk. Her only response a silent nod when Madam Bustier, whom assumed it was not caused by someone else, told her that she needed to stay after school to make sure it was properly clean.

Honestly, she was glad to be alone after the last bell rang. The room was empty and silent except for the ticking clock on the wall. It gave her some private moments to let out those tears that she kept hidden – she would never let anyone see her cry from their bullying attempts – while she mindlessly went through the movements of scrubbing the tabletop. The gentle rasping sounds of the cloth against a hard surface and the familiar circular motions, long ingrained from cleaning parts of the bakery, gave the pigtailed girl a sense of Zen. It was oddly calming for all the emotions she had bottled up inside her earlier; at least she would not be visited by an akuma today. When she was finally done, she gathered up the empty cleanser bottle, dirty rags, and mangled pens to dump in the garbage near the teacher’s desk. Marinette gave one last sorrowful look at the pens, recalling all of the designs she had illustrated with them and the joy she had felt receiving them from Grandma Gina… On the bright side, they had not found her precious sketchpad to ruin. The designer wiped her damp cheeks with her jacket sleeve before dropping the pens into the can with a sigh. She trudged out of the class and down the steps, completely missing a pair of calculating eyes that watched her from the shadows…

~~

At the end of the next day, Marinette found a brand-new set of expensive Copic Marking Pens and five Bosco Wood pencils tucked into a simple pink ribbon bow on top in her locker, no note was attached. She looked around, feeling eyes watching her but not seeing anyone standing out in the crowd of random students gathering their things and chatting with friends. She reverently touched the beautiful clear case and hugged it to her chest, a small genuine smile gracing her features as she imagined all the stunning designs she would make, before tucking them safely into her bookbag. Perhaps one of her classmates felt bad for what happened and wanted to remain anonymous for fear of Lila? Whatever the case, these would be safer in her room.

~~~Second~~~

A few days later, Marinette sat at one of the tables in the library during lunch, off in her own world with her headphones playing the latest Jagged Stone single just loud enough for her to block out any passing sounds but low enough not to disturb others. She found it easier to focus on her work not surrounded by her former friends and the kindly librarian allowed her to eat at the tables so long as she didn’t make a mess. Today the designer was working on a dress for Clara Nightingale’s next award show appearance. The overall look was done but the colors… She tapped the end of her new oak pencil against her lips as she contemplated. The margins on the page were filled with tiny smudges of carefully erased notes. She pulled out her phone, looking through various Pantone color chip options through Qwant. Unfortunately, like with all electronics, the inherent settings and hardware capabilities altered the tones just slightly – making the decision even harder.

“I wish I could afford those Pantone Color chips…it would make it so much easier to choose,” Marinette murmured to herself with a sigh. “Perhaps I can buy one with the money Maman’s family will send me for New Year but that’s still months away...”

The five-minute warning bell signifying the end of lunch rang, pulling her from her thoughts. The girl packed her sketchbook and headphones away before sweeping any remaining crumbs and rubber shavings into her empty lunch containers, then headed off to class without a second thought to the other students meandering through the book stacks or lining up to check out something last minute. Her mind was elsewhere, dreaming of which colors would combine best to fit Clara’s style and still wow people on the red carpet, when she knocked into something solid. Marinette’s elbow was caught in a firm grip before she fell backward, finding herself hauled up against a familiar grey vest.

“Hello Angel, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” came the smug voice of the other blond boy in her class. Just great. She righted herself with a scoff, rolling her eyes at his ridiculous pick-up line while brushing imaginary wrinkles from her blazer. She knew he was only doing it to get a rise out of her but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of losing her temper.

“Not as much as when they kicked you out of hell, Felix,” she replied sweetly as she pulled away.

“Are you saying I’m hot?” he asked with a predatory grin.

“You’re about as hot as a dumpster on fire and only half as pleasant!” Marinette sing-songed before quickly brushing by him and walked back towards class, missing the playful look on his face as he followed her at a respectable distance. She settled into her seat with a huff, zoning out while Madam Bustier droned on about the Revolution, the girl’s mind lost in the details for Clara’s dress once again.

~~

The next gift unexpectedly appeared at lunch the next day. The librarian called her over and presented a small parcel wrapped in pink striped paper. “This is for you, dear.”

“What? Who…,” began the confused bluenette. She spied a small, unsigned tag with her name on it taped to the top. The tag itself was not handwritten, instead seemed to have been made on a typewriter. Who, besides her Grandpa Roland, even owned one of those anymore?

“Sorry but I don’t have any idea. It was left here with just your name printed on the card while I was busy with a phone call. Seems you have an admirer, dear!” chuckled the librarian as she patted the girl on the shoulder, then went back to sorting a stack of returns for reshelving.

Marinette settled the parcel on her usual table, carefully unwrapping to preserve the lovely paper for another of her crafting projects. She pulled off the lid of the plain white box and unfolded the tissue paper inside – her breath caught in her throat. Inside were four Pantone Color Guide fans for fashion and home design, each with 350 different swatches, in every shade of the rainbow. Her fingers trembled as she lifted one from the safety of its tissue bed, fanning it open with a look of awe. Who had done this? First the pens, now this… She was overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude, her face lighting up with palpable joy as her mind buzzed with questions and plans.

‘I need to take these home, immediately!’ she thought, returning the Pantone guide back to the same spot she had pulled it from. She closed the box and pressed it to her chest as she quickly departed from the library, barely preventing herself from bumping into a student that was about to depart through the doorway. She threw a quick “sorry!” over her shoulder as she ran, only catching a blur of gold hair in her periphery as she exited the school.

~~~Third~~~

A couple weeks later, after the commission for Clara was done, Marinette found herself with some free time on the weekend. Time to find a nice spot to draw! She had planned to wander through the park near her house, but discovered Adrien was doing a photoshoot with Lila. She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something rotten.  Not that she didn’t still enjoy watching Adrien’s photoshoots – on the contrary, it was fun to see the modeling process and clothes – but the motivation had changed. She had found her feelings for the model fading as time went on; eventually she accepted that it was a temporary obsession rather than love that she felt. Being around him wasn’t as awkward as she expected but she preferred to avoid being around Lila – which meant not hanging out with Adrien as much as he was constantly around her due to his father’s wishes.

She hummed softly and turned on her heel, deciding to seek out another spot that might inspire her. The pigtailed girl wandered along the Siene, giving a friendly wave to Andre the ice cream vendor as she passed and enjoying the light breeze against her cheeks. She decided her time would be best spent at the Luxembourg Gardens – it had been a while since she had visited. Marinette took a deep breath as she meandered along the sunlight paths, surrounded by trees and flowers, the calming effect of the garden and architecture washing over the secret bug-themed heroine with each step. She found a bench near one of the buildings that caught her eye, settling down with one of her drawing pencils and losing herself to the sketching of various designs that began to form in her head. A few gowns inspired by flowers and the stream nearby, jackets and hats noted with colors of the various leaves overhead, but what appeared the most on the pages were men’s three-piece suits with embroidered vests… Marinette paused, gazing at the newest vest she had drawn. Deep twilight blue, bordering on black; with barely imperceptible golden and green abstract detailing that was vaguely reminiscent of peacock feathers.

It reminded her of Felix for some reason – not just the vest itself but the stylization she had added. She glanced up to the building again, taking in the architecture with a discerning gaze. It and part of the surrounding garden was of English design, merging in with the French touches seamlessly. Adrien’s cousin was from London, perhaps that was why it reminded her so much of him… She dropped her gaze back down to the page, her eyes widening as she realized she was unconsciously doodling Felix’s face and shoulders into the vest she had created. It was rough but the sketch – hair, jawline, and the beginning curve of a grin – was distinctively him. Marinette’s cheeks pinked at the realization, hurriedly attempted to flip the page only to discover it was the last sheet. Her book would need to be replaced!

“Well,” she said as she closed and halfheartedly tucked the pad away, “looks like I’ll have to buy a new sketch pad with my allowance next Friday.” With one last look at the beautiful garden around her, she began her journey home through the afternoon crowds. Marinette failed to hear the soft plop behind her as her sketchpad fell from her bag until she was back in her room. She returned to search for it with no luck, lamenting the loss of her work but hopeful that her luck – Tikki’s really – might just bring it back to her. After all, this was why she always wrote her name and address on the inside cover. Someone must have found it and would turn it in!

At school the following Monday and Tuesday, she relegated herself to making little doodles on her notebook’s lined paper. Nothing too serious or professional – little flowers and birds that she remembered seeing at the Luxembourg Gardens, black cats chasing peacocks through a field of flowers, ladybugs on leaves cleaning their antennae or snoozing in a pollen covered pistil bed... She didn’t want to waste a great design on paper that was too thin to accept her bold pencil strokes, not to mention whatever was left would not withstand the colored marker ink without becoming an oversaturated, soggy mess. At one point Marinette caught Felix staring over her shoulder at her drawings during free period; she was so taken aback that she was at a loss for words as his green eyes met hers.

 He propped his elbow on the desk and casually rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his trademark smirk spreading across his face. “Like what you see, Princess? Take a picture, it will last longer.”

Marinette gasped at the audacity and turned away, “No, you simply reminded me of a ‘before’ picture I saw on the TV the other day.”

“Give me a chance and I’ll do more than make you gasp,” he replied close to her ear.

“I’d slap you, but I don’t want to accidentally make your face look any better,” she murmured sweetly, her eyes alight with playful mockery as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. A tingle went up her spine as his breath tickled her ear and they seemed frozen as their gazes met, the moment only being broken by the bell. Without turning her head any further, she heard him chuckle with mirth as he sat back in his seat.

By the end of class on Tuesday, she returned home to find a thick envelope tucked into the mail slot beside their apartment entry in the alleyway. She pulled it out and found yet another typed tag on the front addressed to her. Not wanting to wait a moment longer, she ripped it open right there on the doorstep. She cried with joy when she saw the contents! Inside was her lost sketchpad tied to a brand new one, its cover a pale pink and covered in plum blossoms and irises. Marinette looked up and down the alleyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person that had left the envelope, but no one was there. Did she really have an admirer? She blushed as her hand traced the pattern on the cover idly. Whomever they were, they didn’t waste time with cliché gestures of flowers and chocolates… Instead, they seemed very attentive to her likes and hobbies. Every gift was centered around her designing but still found a way to incorporate a personalized touch. She had never felt so special or seen before. A warmth blossomed in her chest at the thoughtfulness this mysterious figure had shown her; this feeling leaving her floating through the rest of the week as if on cloud nine.

~~~Fourth~~~

On Thursday, Marinette sat at her table after lunch and felt something bump against her knee unexpectedly. She shifted and felt something small fall onto her knees. Trying not to look distracted in class, she brought it into her lap proper and held back a squeal as she caught a glimpse of pink striped paper. They must have stuck it to the underside of the table to avoid someone else finding it. The pigtailed girl slowly opened the wrapping, careful to keep it as silent as possible, to reveal a spool of delicate lace edging in a creamy white. She contemplated uses for it and decided she had plenty left over for a little display of appreciation…

Friday morning, she checked herself in the mirror one last time and received the nub’s up from Tikki. Marinette made her way to school and happily skipped up the steps, ignoring the looks she received – didn’t matter to her if they were in envy, anger, or judgement. Let them look! The designer had raised her hair into her Multimouse space buns but pinned small segments of lace around the base of each, giving her a Chun-Li look with her usual red ribbons trailing from each bun. She had paired the look with a red qipao top with a peplum hem, which flared slightly at her hips, over tailored black pants. She had also exchanged her usual pink purse with one covered in upcycled cream colored doilies.

Surprisingly she entered the class with a couple minutes to spare, nearly stumbling into the two blond cousins conversing at the front table. Adrien was the first to see her, his eyes slipping up to her hair as his smile turned warm and fond. “Hey Marinette! I love the new look; did you design it yourself?”

“Hey Adrien! Yeah, just haven’t had the chance to wear it before now. Felt like wearing something new today,” the designer smiled in return, giving him a little twirl. In the meantime, Felix had turned around and standing eerily silent as he stared at her. She could have sworn his ears had turned slightly pink when he finally glanced at her hair. “Cat got your tongue, Felix?” Marinette asked cheekily.

He cleared his throat before he replied. “Can I take your picture so I can show Père Noël what I want for Christmas?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, “Don’t you know? Only good kids get presents, I’m afraid you won’t qualify.”

“Well, if I must be a Grinch, then I’d rather steal you instead,” Felix stated with a grin.

She leaned in close and dropped her voice low, her eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “I guess I should add ‘body bag’ on my list this year then, because it sounds like you’ll end up in one.” The boy seemed temporarily speechless, so she smirked with victory and headed back to her seat. Vaguely she could hear the imperceptible murmurings of the two blonds get cut off by the bell as she settled in.

Marinette felt – and ignored – Felix’s stare on the back of her head the rest of the day. If she had turned around for even a moment, she likely would have seen the rouged complexion that he was unable to tame in her presence.

~~~Fifth~~~

A week later, after a long day dodging Lila’s machinations and having to stay late to handle Class Representative tasks, Marinette was relieved to find the locker room empty. She mentally ran through the list of books she would need to complete her homework and opened the lock, the door immediately falling open due to an unbalanced package within. Her heart leaped into her chest as she took in the memorable pink stripped paper. The bluenette sat on the bench and brought the package into her lap, noting that it felt soft under the crinkling exterior. Just as she did with the Pantone Guides, she carefully removed the paper. As the last of the tape was peeled and the boundary fell away to reveal the contents, Marinette audibly gasped. There in her lap lay the most beautiful silk she had ever seen, the same shade as the vest she had sketched at the gardens!

She blushed as she thought of the drawing and the image of Felix wearing it in her mind’s eye. She shook her head to free herself from such thoughts. Knowing him, he’d probably think her designs were not worthy enough to be worn. The designer brushed her hand over the material adoringly, unfolding the fabric slightly to gauge the length. There was enough to make a few vests or a skirt or a cocktail dress… Her fingers found a card hidden within the folds and pulled it free. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she read it. Printed in the same font as the others, it simply said:

The vest will only be half as beautiful as you.

~~~Plus One~~~

Marinette spent the next few days sewing the vest and adding the detailing. It now hung on her mannequin as pictured in her sketchpad but…it didn’t feel right. Incomplete. She trudged through school, distracted by the design and what it seemed to be missing. Even Tikki couldn’t calm her or help in any way. The girl wasn’t even sure why she was so focused on it! It wasn’t like she had a way to deliver it to her admirer… she had no way to tell if it would fit him either!

The girl was so unfocused all morning that, when it finally came to be lunch time, she tripped over something on the ground unexpectedly. She groaned from the floor as she brushed her knees off and sought out what item might have caused her fall. In the middle of the walkway was a nondescript black pencil case and – if the solidness she felt through the toe of her flat was any indication – it was full of writing utensils. Marinette grabbed it as she stood up, searching for a tag or name on it to figure out whom to return it to. Nothing was on the outside except for the zipper and a smudge of dirt in the shape of her shoe print. She unzipped it and peered inside, digging her fingers around to loosen the contents. She must have jostled something too hard because pens and pencils popped from the opening and spilled onto the floor.

“Damnit, Marinette…you’re such a klutz,” she muttered as she crouched back down to collect the items, hoping nothing was damaged. She knew how important good pens were. She smiled warmly as she looked at the case, remembering the pens and pencils she had received in her first gift from her admirer…

Just then a pencil caught her eye and she froze; it couldn’t be… As if afraid it was just one of Trixx’s mirages that would evaporate when touched, she reached out slowly and picked it up. There in her hand was a Bosco pencil, exact matches to the ones she had received. Looking around the semi-busy walkway, she quickly gathered up the rest and ran down an empty hall to the supply closet she sometimes used to transform during an akuma attack. The designer knew these came as a matching set of ten and had thought it was odd that she only received five…assuming whomever the giver was that they may have kept the others. She didn’t blame them; these were expensive pencils! She pulled her own pink case out and extracted one of the Bosco pencils to compare it against.

The serial numbers matched.

Marinette gasped and fell to her knees on the floor of the closet, staring at the zippered pouch in shock. “This is…this is my admirer’s case.” She sat dumbfounded for a moment before springing back into action to search for any name that might give away their identity. However, even after emptying it of all further contents, there wasn’t a single thing with initials or contact information. The girl groaned in frustration before carefully replacing the contents and cleaning the dirt from the outside. “I’ll bring it to the office, perhaps they will report it missing to Lost & Found. They brought me back my sketchpad, it’s only fair to find a way to bring this back to them too.”

The designer opened the door and stepped back out into the hall, keeping the case snuggly held against her stomach like a precious artifact, then made her way towards the front office. As she approached, she caught a familiar voice drifting from the open doorway and into the hall, a voice that no longer held the same haughty tone but one filled with anxiety and concern.

“It’s all black with a zipper down the side. Contains several wood drawing pencils and pens which mean a lot to me. Felix Fathom, 01-XX-XX-XXXX. Did you get that?” He paused and she could hear the dulcet voice of their receptionist responding the affirmative. “Thank you. You’ll call me if you find it?” She didn’t wait to hear the answer, instead she ducked into a bathroom nearby and stared at the case as if it had grown legs.

‘Felix is my admirer…he gave me the gifts…this is his case…’ Her mind whirled as it connected the dots. All the times he had shown interest in her drawings and hobbies without calling attention to himself, the times they had bumped into each other in the library or the hallway, the pick-up lines and terms of endearment taking on a whole new meaning as she blushed… He had been there on the cusp of her periphery and paid more attention to her interests than she ever thought he might. And he sounded so worried about losing this case, which contained the matching ones to her set. Then a knowing grin crossed her face – the note cards! She recalled Adrien once mentioning that Felix’s father used to type all of his movie scripts on a typewriter. ‘He did all this…for me?’ Her heart swelled with warmth.

With a flash of brilliance, Marinette suddenly knew just how to finish her design!

But first, she needed to drop the pen pouch off at the front office.

~~

Marinette arrived early the next day and took her usual seat in the empty classroom, deciding to doodle as she waited for others to arrive. Well, one person in particular. Her nerves tingled with the impending confrontation. What if she was wrong? What if he did this as some sick joke? No. She and Tikki had talked through all those issues last night as she hand embroidered the lining with ladybugs flitting between Tudor Roses. It was folded and wrapped in her lap, covered by her jacket.

She heard the sound of his footfall in the hallway and held her breath, forcing her eyes to remain on the paper pad in front of her as she heard those footsteps falter at the doorway. Within a few moments, they restarted and walked up the aisle towards his desk before pausing next to hers. Marinette looked up and met his eyes, noticing he had already dropped his bookbag onto the ground next to his desk on the tier above hers. They were all alone, this was her chance!

“You’re here early, finally decided to be a good example, Miss Class Rep?” Damn him and that smirk!

“On the contrary, I had an important appointment to make this morning.” In one fluid movement she stood, unfolded the vest, and draped it around his shoulders like a cape before he could react.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the material swathed around his torso in awe, his eyes taking on a nervous shadow as they rose once again to her face, “You… How did…”

“You know what that’s made of don’t you?” Marinette’s voice took on a serious tone as if lecturing a student. Her fingers gently fiddled with an edge near his shoulder, pretending to assess the fabric before tucking it beneath his shirt collar. His eyes became searching, but he didn’t reply, his lips parted as if too stunned or unsure to answer.

The pigtailed girl leaned in close to his lips and whispered, “Boyfriend material.” Then closed the distance to seal it with a kiss.

~~~Author's Notes: Do I sound like I am an artist knowing these things? Because I'm not. I just research A LOT when I write. 😅

[blarfkey]

My first fic for @equalopportunitysolas week features my fav Solas rare pair: Solas/Cassandra.

Rating: G

Modern AU/Office AU.

When an unsigned bouquet of flowers appears on Cassandra's desk, she thinks it's a mistake. The second time must be a prank. But as the days pass and each morning brings flowers or small gifts, the signs of courtship is unmistakable. But the person behind it all refuses to come clean and Cassandra must wrestle with an old insecurity in order to accept the possibility that someone might desire her.

Flowers come first: Calla lilies and daffodils and pops of red leafed embrium. They sat on her desk, a small vase sitting innocuously in the corner. 

The note is blank and not signed. She puzzled over it for long moments, her briefcase still hanging in her hand. 

“Is something wrong?”

Solas, her coworker in the next cubicle, leans over their shared wall. Of course he is here early. Sometimes she wonders if he sleeps here. 

“I got flowers,” she says stupidly. 

“Oh? You didn’t tell me you have a suitor.”

Only Solas would call such a thing a suitor. But Cassandra secretly likes it, all these anachronistic phrases of his, like he had stepped out of a historical documentary. 

“I don’t,” she says shortly. 

“A secret admirer, perhaps,” he suggests with a half grin. 

She snorts indelicately. “Right. The more rational answer is that these were meant for someone else.”

“You don’t think you’re a reasonable recipient for such a gift?”

“Who in Thedas would give me flowers, Solas?"

Read the rest on AO3

[the-travelling-witch]

Just saw a school play of James and the giant peach and it was adorable

Now THE SOUNDTRACK WAS SO GOOD (IM SO PROUD OF MY FRIENDS FOR DOING AND WORKING ON THE SHOW)

JUICY AND PLUMP JUICY AND PLUMP~

i don’t think i know the play but i‘m happy you enjoyed it!!

also props to your friends for putting a good show together!!

[steddieunderdogfics]

Two fics for challenge monday (20 comments): "the conditions are right (for a good time)" by jk_rockin. And "there lie perdus" by jenneviel

the conditions are right (for a good time) by jk_rockin

@jkrockin

Rating: Teen and Up

4,816 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Carnival, Rodeo Competitions, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Period-Typical Homophobia

Summary:

This is Eddie's summer. He's got his own booth. Wayne's letting him run a real booth. Not filling in, not picking up the shitty shifts for this jointy or that, not running a kiddy ride. An actual, factual, single-front midway amusement, and it’s all his. Well, on paper it’s still Wayne’s. But this time, she’s in Eddie’s hands. And it’s— his booth! His!— even actually a pretty good one. To the unenlightened townie, balloon darts may seem like a simple, even a childish pursuit, but Eddie maintains that there is an art to even the most straightforward pleasures. There's a science to it. Physics. Like every game, it can be rigged, but even played straight, it's an earner. He's going to finish out the summer with more money than he started with, for once. Especially if everyone in Nowheresville, Indiana is as juicy a mark as the handsome, fancy-haired guy who's bellied up to his counter.

there lie perdus by jenneviel

Rating: Teen and Up

11,745 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warning

Tags: Fluff, Roommates, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Secret Crush, Secret Admirer, First Kiss, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, POV Steve Harrington, Texting, Valentine's Day, Steddie Valentine's Day Exchange 2024 (Stranger Things), Getting Together, Accidental Cuddling, theyre so stupid

Summary:

Clearly he has some sort of secret admirer, and it feels like high school, when girls would slip unsigned notes into his locker but inevitably reveal themselves when they ran out of patience or realized he wasn’t actively looking for whoever left the note. But this person, they’ve waited a month—and they still give no indication as to who they are. It makes Steve want to know.

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[pdpenpals]

happy to have found your blog, love the concept!

could we maybe get a confession letter from pdh!travis? 👉👈

hi!! thank you so much, anon. hope you like the liberties i've taken with this request (you didn't specify what kind of confession it was going to be!! /silly), hehe. you'd wanna hear what this lil guy has to say, but he thinks it may be a little too much.

as expected, there’s another letter waiting for you at the usual spot. sure, it’s exciting, but you can’t help but wonder how fast it takes for your “secret admirer” (as your friends like to put it, even though you insist you're just friends) to send you a reply and leave it without you being able to catch a glimpse of him. maybe you should be scared instead. is it even possible to do that? who would have so much free time on their hands to go through the trouble of this anonymous (sorta) exchange? you two apparently.

the envelope as always is the plain white ones you can easily buy in bulk for cheap. there’s no seal, but you can easily tell it’s been shut tight by glue. you look around and find no one else within the vicinity, so you decide it should be fine to open it and start reading then and there. as usual, it's left unsigned.

My dearest cruel friend,

Re: your last letter, ouch. After how I’ve bared myself to you these past few weeks, that’s how you reply? As someone who’s been in Phoenix Drop longer than I have, I don’t think that’s very “bleeding heart” (I don't think that's the actual word they use but does anyone actually memorize the school's core values??) of you. Just kidding. Sorry.

I still wonder what life would be like if I never transferred to PD. So far acads and socializing have gotten better than expected but never easier. To be honest, what I have now isn’t exactly how I thought my high school experience here would be like. This year, I imagined going out with friends more, maybe even a nightly rendezvous with someone who’s caught my eye, but my words and I are falser than vows made in wine. 

My bad, practice has been way too fun to not quote this year's play. Seriously though…

I say all that, yet here I am, spending more time at school than I should, sticking around for a while longer on campus, checking every other hour for your next letter. Before I knew it, I’d spent the majority of this semester getting to know you. Now I do, and I am sure that there’s no one else like you in this world. I guess you could say I’m absolutely smitten by you.

My friend says I should just go up to you and reveal myself already, and as much as I want to say I don’t think it’s the right time yet, or that I prefer the intimacy of being your faceless penpal (free to quarrel with you all I like in pen without being judged), I’m honestly very very afraid of what you’d think of me when we finally meet face to face. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be like said friend, forward and confident and cool.

It is as clear as day that my fate is sealed.

You’d hate to hear this, but I’ve been meaning to distract myself from our exchange by choosing to hang out more with other people, hence my slower replies. But hear me out when I say that there’ll be this little something about them that makes me think all about you, and then I’ll get upset since they will never be anything like you. So there’s no way for you to tell me that don’t think of you every day.

PS. You’ve probably figured out who I am by now, haven’t you?

[roses-dreams-andthorns]

So... I wanted to do something to try to fix my writers block so I can get to doing requests again... so... here's a yandere series, continuing off of my other one, I conjoured up in the shower, because the shower is where you get all the best ideas fr

Love Me!

Yandere Riddle x Male reader

Love Me! is a series of longer stories and scenarios from the "Love is a Dangerous Game" series.

Reader is replacing yuu, and implied to be male/masculine

TW: Yandere behavior, stalking, non consentual photo taking, Cliffhanger

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You didn't really see yourself as a popular student, though you were very well known throughout NRC, people called you by many titles; ranging from ones that seem honorable to ones that are simple, like "Overblot destoryer" or just "Magicless Human" or the most used one, "Ramshakle Prefect". You have been told many times that people look up to you, yet you always deny that fact. Theres no possible way these magicians can look up to someone who isn't powerful or skilled in magic in any way, all you did was take down a few overblots, even then, you hardly did anything!

Even if you are not popular, you always have eyes on you when you walk the halls, some eyes full of positive jealousy, others of envy, and if you're lucky, some filled with love. Though you aren't typically interested in any of the people who had confessed to you recently.

You have gotten many letters from students who have this attraction for you, most are signed anonymous, others with initials, some with a full name. But more recently, you began recieving unsigned letters, not even signed anonymous or by initials or anything, there's simply no signature, not even a "Secret Admirer" sign off.

Supposedly, by the handwriting, the person sending these unsigned, and very unhinged letters is the same person. These letters usually go something like:

"Dearest/Dear Y/N,

I love seeing your smile everyday, being around you makes my heart skip beats, I want to be closer to you than ever before, but I don't know how I could tell you all this in person like I wish I could. You are so beautiful... so Handsome... your eyes are so pretty... your hair looks so soft. I hope you know I love you more than anyone else."

The writer is very descriptive in all their letters; describing all your features they find beautiful, thanking you for things you have done for them, complimenting you and much more. It may come off as creepy to others, but this entirely anonymous sender has piqued your interest, despite their... creepily accurate depictions of you and the occasional photos they said they took of you, or gifts they added in with the letter. Wait... how did they even get in your locker?

This sender remained completely anonymous, until one day, a student had come up to you with what seemed like one of the letters from the anonymous sender, you suspected this student was them, at first.

"Hello Ramshackle Prefect!" The student greeted you, the student seemed to be from Heartslabyul, considering their uniform color.

"Hello. Got something for me?" you asked, eyeing the letter in the students hand.

"Yes! Dorm Leader Rosehearts asked me to give this to you." Dorm Leader Rosehearts? Riddle? has he really been the one writing these letters and giving you these gifts?

"Riddle? Well, thank you for bringing it to me." you thank the student, he bowed respectfully before taking off.

You felt a pair of eyes on you as you stared at the letter, the gaze you felt was just screaming at you to open it, so you did.

"Dearest Y/N,

I believe I am ready for this.

If you have time, Prefect, please come to Heartslabyul, and meet me somewhere in the rose maze. I wish to talk to you about something."

From: Your Future Husband

Riddle Rosehearts

Well... maybe the anonymous sender isn't Riddle, but the handwriting matches... fancy cursive only someone as smart as Riddle would know, the fancy look of the letters match, oh, and look! a nice picture of you included in Riddle's letter, with a heart around you. you're quite curious about the scratched out part, but it's scratched out in a thick, black marker, and is hard to see under the light.

What will you choose to do?

> Meet Riddle as requested.

> Do not meet Riddle.

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[your option will have different story branches, and different outcomes, like a visual novel romance. Except you have no choice in who you love. Whaaat? who said that? Anyways, there will be a poll for these two options. whichever route is voted the most, will be written first.]

Reblogs are appreciated!