#secret admirer!au

[mysicklove]

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

Love this series btw <3

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

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

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

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

[sualne]

your body isn't your own

[hairmetal666]

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

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

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

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

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

"Harrington?"

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

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

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

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

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

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

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

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

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

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

"Yeah, big news."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

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

[mrkified]

(not so) secret admirer! ୭̥°

✦ never in a million years would you ever be bold enough to talk to your biology partner renjun outside of school — which is why you came up with the bright idea to leave sticky notes on his car to catch his attention

huang renjun x fem!reader

genre: college au, slowburn, strangers to lovers, crack, y/n is down bad and super shy

status: coming soon

warnings: explicit language and innuendos, inappropriate jokes, this is a work of fiction and none of the behaviors of anyone is accurate or depicting their actual personality

featuring: jisung, hendery, haechan, jaehyun (nct), jungwon (enha), eric (the boyz), julie (kiof)

taglist: open!

profiles 1 | profiles 2

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

…TBA

divider by cafekitsune

[starry-bi-sky]

More clone^2 snippets

Snippet 12: hands

Lancer: dear god, Mr. Fenton, what happened to your hands!?

Danny, had a run in with Damian’s katana and both of his hands have stitches: um… cooking… accident. I can’t use them that much currently

Lancer, pale: right, yes, of course. You may have one of your friends right you notes until they are properly healed

————

Snippet 13: more hands (and dash is a dick)

Dash: I bet Fenturd’s just faking his hand injury to get out of doing class work. Getting out of classwork is my thing! I’ll show him.

Danny, minding his own business:

Dash, yanks on his fingers harshly: Freak! Did you think you could copy me and het away with it?

Danny, his stitches torn from the way Dash grabbed him: you’re the last person I’d want to copy Dash, let go.

Dash: we all know you’re faking the hand injury, there’s no way you’d— you’d—

(Danny’s hands are bleeding, and starting to smear on Dash’s hands.)

Danny, (fake) calmly: you were saying, Dash?

Dash: I - uh—

Danny: thanks for opening them up, jerk.

—————

Snippet 14: Danny is Bruce’s Clone and Bruce Wayne has been hottest man alive for many consecutive years

The A-Lister Girls are at a sleepover

Star: Never have I ever had a crush on Danny Fenton

All girls (including Star): puts a finger down

A-List Girl: Paulina put your finger down

Paulina, begrudgingly putting a finger down: he shouldn’t count - he’s a loser!

A-List Girl: he’s still the cutest boy in our grade. Put your damn finger down.

—————

Snippet 15: unstoppable force vs immovable object

(In the Clone Danny Au, since Danny is not a ghost Valerie doesn’t see Phantom as the guy who ruined her life, but a very exhausted vigilante trying his best. They’re allies with conflicting ideologies on how to handle ghosts.)

Red Huntress: are you kidding me, Phantom? You dragged a kid in with you to fight ghosts? I thought you were better than that

Wraith, offended: *opening his mouth*

Phantom, tiredly putting a hand over Damian’s mouth: *in ASL + one hand* you don’t think I tried to stop him?

Red Huntress: he’s a child, Phantom, how hard could it be?

Phantom: looks down at Wraith

Wraith: looks up at Phantom with the eyes of a hundred enraged bulls

Phantom, kneeling down to Wraith and pulling his mask up to show his mouth: *whispering inaudibly*

Wraith: *takes off in the opposite direction*

Phantom, standing up to Red: *ASL* well? go get him

————

Snippet 16: identity

(Danny and Damian are sitting on a rooftop, in the middle of a break from patrol. Damian sits between Danny’s legs and Danny is slumped over Damian’s back.)

Damian, playing with Danny’s fingers:

Danny: who are you?

Damian: Damian.

Danny: who are you not?

Damian: Damian Wayne.

Danny: do you have to be?

Damian: no.

Danny: who do you have to be?

Damian: I just have to be me.

Danny: who are you?

Damian: I’m Damian.

Danny: good.

Damian:

Danny:

Damian: who are you?

Danny, smiling: Danny

—————

Snippet 17: long hair

(In the Clone Danny Au, Danny’s hair goes to his shoulders. I was in a GNC mood at the time the au was made and it passed on to Danny.)

Tucker: are you going to cut your hair, Danny? It’s getting long.

Danny, laying against the bed frame with Sam doing his hair: probably to get the dead ends cut off. I like it long.

Sam: I like it long too.

Tucker: you like it long because he lets you do whatever you want to it

Sam: it’s also a stand against the oppressive stereotype that men can’t have long hair and must always have it short in order to appear masculine! Danny’s showing individuality and sticking it to the patriarchy at the same time!

Danny: and because I let you do whatever you want to it.

Sam, making a punk hairdo for danny: yea that too

——————

Snippet 18: Danny is Bruce Wayne’s clone and Bruce——

Danny, getting stuff from his locker: my parents have a new ‘Fenton anti-ghost sticky bomb’ they’re working on and—

Student with a photography camera: Hey, Fenton!

Danny, looking over: what?

Student: *snaps a photo* thanks!

Student walks away

Danny:

Tucker:

Sam:

Danny: so… um…. Is that- is that another Wes? Should I be worried?

Sam: you should be angry! He just took your picture without your consent! That’s a violation of your bodily autonomy.

Danny: we can keep an eye on it, Sam, and if it becomes an issue then I’ll report it to a teacher.

Danny: and as I was saying, I can’t wait to have to make sure that that doesn’t hurt anyone.

Danny: i love having to stay up late sabotaging my parents’ inventions. Yay…

—————

Snippet 19: Danny is Bruce’s clone and—

Wes: ranting about how Phantom = Danny and how there’s proof and he has it and—

Random Student from his photography club: you wanna kiss him so bad it makes you look stupid.

Wes: I do nOT

Student: Its okay Wes, so does literally everyone else.

—————

Snippet 20: Lookalike

Danny: the only good thing about being Bruce Wayne’s clone is that my Brucie Wayne Impression is spot on

Damian: what??

Danny: my Brucie Wayne impression. It shouldn’t be as fun as it is doing it

[liorae]

Secret Admirer ୨୧ 𝓨ang 𝓙ungwon

𝓼ynopsis : It’s no shocker to anyone that you’re eye candy. Any room you walk in you’re bound to have someone gawking over you. It’s not something that ever phased you. What’s different this year? Mysterious love letters start appearing in your locker, each one more heartfelt than the last. Determined to uncover the identity of your secret admirer, you, with the support of your friends, seek out this unknown person. The biggest surprise? The letters are from your best friend, who has been quietly in love with you all along.

𝓹airing: best friend!jungwon x fem!reader. 𝓰enre: social media au, friends to lovers, fluff, possible angst and slowburn.

𝓯eaturing: NEWJEANS (excluding hyein), BILLLIE’s Suyeon, and BOYNEXTDOOR’s Leehan.

𝔀arnings: cursing, kys/kms jokes, bad attempt at humor, and possibly more to be added.

𝓼tatus: ongoing! | 𝓽aglist: open! (comment/ask)

PROFILES.

0.4 gpa | student body

CHAPTERS

prologue. rejection phobia

( and more chapters to come! )

[paper-lilypie]

peekaboo

[phoxphenex]

hellooo !!! can I request being a secret admirer for TAEYONG. pls no more angst 😭🙏🏻

when you’re taeyong’s secret admirer texts

[midnighttheroies]

this is how i invasion their first introduction, maybe one day we'll be able to see it

@xtaleunderverse

@jakei95

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Shorter Part 3, sorry y’all 😭

“Does this have to do with the rose?” Dustin asks them as soon as they are alone in the car. ‘Damn,’ Steve thinks, ‘I should’ve dropped you off first.’

“What do you know about the rose?” Steve asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I know it’s from his secret admirer.”

“You know about that?”

“Of course I do, Steve, he tells that story to everyone who will listen.” Dustin says as if it’s common knowledge.

“So who are your theories? I know you’ve got them.” Steve says

“I have no clue.” Steve looks at him confused “I really don’t. I even told Eddie that we could figure it out if we saw the note but he just shook his head and went back to grinning that goofy grin he had.”

“…And that’s bad?”

“Well no, I just figured he’d want help figuring it out, but that’s not the weird part about it all. He didn’t even have everything set up when we got there.”

Steve gives Dustin a confused glance, trying to keep his eyes on the road in front of him.

“Eddie normally gets there super early to set everything up, but even by time Lucas got there just before we were about to start, all of Eddie’s DM stuff was still in his bag. Literally only the tables and his throne were pulled out where they were supposed to be. He just kept staring at that damn rose with that lovestruck look on his face.”

“Hey, language! But yeah, that is weird? What? Don’t look at me like that, I’ve been around you all long enough to know that’s out of character for him..he loves that game.” Steve chuckles to himself, thinking about the party’s collective confused faces at Eddie’s soft one. “Alright, doofus, this is you. Tell your mom I say ‘Hi’.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and shuffles out the car door and up the drive.

Steve waits until he’s safely inside before backing out, and heading home.

‘holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshi—‘ Steve’s brain played on a loop, his face splitting into a grin.

——————

The (now) third time Eddie "hears" from his secret admirer is definitely not when he was expecting. It kind of makes sense, if his secret admirer really is into him still he'd know that Eddie plays at the Hideout on Tuesday nights. But if he's being honest with himself, the rose flung up on stage while they were still drowned in spotlight was the second most surprising thing of the night. Actually, make that third.

First was the size of the crowd. Being accused of a ritualistic murder does have one benefit then, it has a tendency to make you seem more metal than you might actually be (especially within the metal community). The dingy little bar was actually packed tonight. So many people were there to see Eddie and his bandmates that it was the start of his nervousness. And Eddie never gets nervous about playing, it’s like breathing to him.

Secondly (and the second reason for Eddie to be nervous that night) was that Steeeeve Harrington himself was there to see him play. Him along with Buckley AND Nancy Wheeler had even dressed up for the occasion, pulling out as much black and grungy looking pieces from the backs of their wardrobes as they could find. Eddie swears Wheeler is wearing one of the old band tees Robin stole from him and Steve is wear-holy fuck. HOLY FUCK. Steve Harrington is wearing his (His! Eddie Munson’s!) battle vest. How the fuck he managed to keep it is beyond him but…yep. Eddie’s vest looks just as good on Steve now than it did in that upside-down hellscape.

Only a second had gone by in the time it took Eddie to process all of this before the lights go down and the spotlight is blinding him to everything beyond the stage.

“Get your head in gear, Munson, you’ve got a whole bar full of people to blow away… shit” Eddie mumbles to himself before stepping up to the mic.

And of course, no matter his surprise or nervousness about anything (or anyone) in the crowd that night, the show goes off without a hitch. He’s saying his goodbyes to the crowd as they cheer, holler, and whistle for them, some people are even throwing things. A couple of coasters with phone numbers scrawled on them are frisbee’d onto the stage around him, one (1) singular pair of panties (wtf this is insane), and from his right, just before the lights come back up in the bar, a single red rose tied with a black ribbon.

Time slows down. That’s the only way he could’ve snatched it out of the air the way he did.

He catches it and the crowd lets loose a few wolf whistles. Eddie grins so wide his face hurts. “Thank you guys so much, we’ll be here next week!” he jeers and lifts the rose in his hand in the air like he’s showing it off. The lights finally come up, and Eddie looks directly toward where the rose came from, trying to see if he recognized any of the faces. The only face he recognizes is Steve’s, off a good bit to the left from where the rose came at him, and who is also looking around for who it would’ve come from. Steve looks up at Eddie, and shrugs, he didn’t see anything either.

‘Of course he’s going to act like he didn’t see anything if he’s the one who threw it.’ Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies.

Nope. NOPE. Not going there, that’s so impossible. Steve was a good friend, even if he was blissfully unaware of the affect he had on Eddie.

Eddie shrugs back at Steve before turning back to the guys and helping them pack up their stuff.

“What does this one say?” Gareth asks him when they’re lugging the last of the equipment off the stage.

“Ermph durnup.” Eddie mumbles around the rose stem in his mouth. He sets the amps he was carrying at the back door to be loaded into his van (Which Steve was so graciously helping with). Eddie spits the rose out into his hand as Steve comes back into the doorway. Now ALL of them waiting on Eddie to read out the note. Even Robin and Wheeler have come backstage to watch them work. “Haven’t read it yet.”

“What’s happening now?” Nancy asks, confused. ‘Was she really never around during any of the re-tellings of this story?’ Eddie thinks to himself

“My secret admirer threw this to me as we were wrapping up our set.” Eddie waggles his eyebrows at the older Wheeler “I tried to see who it was, but by the time the lights came back on and I could actually see past the stage, the crowd was already thinning out.”

“They probably didn’t want to be recognized just yet? Even I looked around as soon as I could see again, but yeah, everyone had started dispersing.” Steve chimed in from the doorway he was leaning against, arms crossed across his chest. Damn were his arms always that huge?

“Uh_uh yeah, I do love a guy with a flair for dramatics.” everyone chuckled at that

“Of course you do Munson” Steve smiled at him “Now hurry up and read it!”

“OK, OK, this one says ‘You alone can make my song take flight’.” Eddie sings the line softly, redness creeping up his cheeks as his friends react around him.

“Ew, that’s so gross I’m gonna barf.” - Robin

“That’s so sweet!” - Nancy

“You’re going to be talking about this for weeks aren’t you?” - Gareth

Various well-meaning eye rolls come from the rest of his bandmates as they take care of the amps Steve had been neglecting.

And Steve, Steve was looking at Eddie with the warmest, fondest smile he’d ever seen.

Hmm…

____________________________________________

Pt. 4 will be here! Thank you for reading!!

Now on AO3! Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature

Tagging everyone I can!: @manda-panda-monium , @destielinimpala , @ilovecupcakesandtea , @maya-custodios-dionach , @thefreakandthehair , @youmakemyhearthowl , @phantypurple , @kerlypride , @hagbaby420 , @yes-im-your-mom , @tinydragonhuman , @beeing-stuupid , @ineffablecolors , @m00gl3ness , @background-noise-headache , @jojobeaner , @bitedownonmydestiel , @orangeandthefairroadkill , @llamaoftheinternet , @captain-daryn , @undreamingscatworld , @britishmysteries , @sharpbutsoft , @funnymagicman-named-dandy , @allbymyselfexceptformycactus , @wearelosersyoudumbfuck , @itsthebeckyzone , @thegingervulcan , @urmomification , @wonderingglances , @calciferousoai , @csinnamon-fox , @straight4joekeery , @alex-axolotl , @nitro502 , @whorenerdking , @skeletoneddie , @eddiehashands , @prosedumpofmaya , @werewolfpeterparker , @bigboyandmetalhead , @stevethescareington , @xxbottlecapx , @starkdusk , @legitcookie , @withacapitalp

[thezombieprostitute]

Bittersweet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me, miss?”

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

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

“Oh, what, um, what time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm not worried about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You're Mr. Barnes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mysicklove]

i can imagine reader making little yuji snacks for school and sukuna would just steal them for himself

100%. happens until mr. nanami sends u an email saying that yuuji has been sharing food with megumi. when u find out, u force sukuna to prepare his lunchbox for the next couple weeks AND made sure that he wrote little note’s exactly as u did. yuuji comes home with the biggest grin on his face, and small handwritten notes that says things on the line of “i poisoned your food, brat” or “better enjoy this sandwich, it may be your last” LOLOL. poor megumi is traumatized at the notes while yuuji acts like he won the lottery

[demon-kumo]

𝔸 𝕃𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕐𝕠𝕦, 𝕄𝕪 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕣

◛˚₊· ➳ 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

◛˚₊· ➳ 𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕝 - 𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕚𝕥 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕤.

◛˚₊· ➳ 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝕊𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪/𝕤𝕒𝕕 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖, 𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖, 𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙-𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.

◛˚₊· ➳ 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗, 𝕄𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝔸𝕌

◛˚₊· ➳ 𝔼𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤. It’s just a word, right? To be in a state that contains nothing. It was a short word that was no different than any other that could be written on a piece of paper. Yet that word, that single infuriating word, held so much power over the indigo-haired boy who walked through the white-tiled halls of the high school. The famous scowl that always seemed to be permanently attached to his face was only a facade to hide the feeling within his being.

Scaramouche was a boy known to have a high ego and a venomous tone that was like a snake. His dislike for humans seemed to run so deep in his veins that no one would dare approach him, except for those who were stupid enough to think they had a shot with him.

Scaramouche wasn't always like this, he was once a boy named Kunikuzushi who was more innocent and gentle than a baby bird who hadn't flown from the nest yet. Yet, after the betrayal of many - he made his heart colder than ice to the point where many thought he didn't even have one.

The eyes that were the color of dark lilies held a glare toward anyone who tried to worm their way into his heart, spitting insults with his sharp silver tongue. He knew better than to let anyone in, they would just leave him with an empty feeling once more.

He claimed that he had no heart, that the empty space in his chest was no bother to him at all - yet behind the electric purple eyes and beneath the elevated pride and cold attitude, there lived loneliness.

He was popular actually, considering he was exceptionally smart and had the looks of a perfectly sculpted god, and yet no matter who approached, he knew they only saw the surface of him - they didn't understand anything about him and wanted to use him for his skills and looks - nothing more. Everyone was a liar and betrayer in his eyes.

Well, almost everyone. It all changed the day he found a note in his locker.

That day was more horrible than usual, and he didn't know why - maybe because it was raining or it was the fact that someone tried to one-up him in class or maybe it was all of them. An extra angry stomp in his step caused everyone to skedaddled before he could yell an insult at them for staring at him.

Opening his blue locker, which he thought was one of the ugliest shades of blue he had ever seen, he slammed his books into it, almost missing the small paper that fluttered to the floor like a leaf in the wind.

Perfect eyebrows drew together in confusion as he bent down to pick it up. It wasn't like he wasn't used to receiving things like sugar-coated confessions and suggestive flirting but it had been the first time he had gotten a letter.

His name was written in beautiful cursive yet there was no sender on the front or back of the envelope. Thinking it was inside, he lifted the flap of the lilac envelope took out the white paper, and opened it up, turning his back to the lockers and leaning on it as he read through it.

His dark purple eyes which seemed to hold no light started to shine - a light that was once there reappeared in a beautiful swirl as he read through the words that were the sweetest and most genuine thing he had ever heard.

In the letter, you didn't confess anything but instead wrote about how you saw him, how you saw past the mask of a prideful demon and only saw a lonely angel. Telling him, that no matter what anyone said you would remain there with him and that you hoped these letters could be a way to escape the lonely reality that he lived and provided him comfort.

After that, a routine was formed, throughout somewhere in the day a note would somehow find its way into the locker at the end of the day. At first, he thought he was being punked and that everyone was waiting for the moment to humiliate him, however by the time two weeks passed the notes still didn't stop and they were still gentle and loving. At that point, he felt like he could trust the mysterious someone who left the notes in his locker - finally believing that someone does care for him.

The words of kindness and warmth he always wanted to receive would be written in pen on the letter. He kept all the notes in a box, whenever he fell down in the dump he would look at those notes and be reminded that someone was always there for him. Then there came the point where he finally got over his embarrassment and left a reply in his locker and started to converse back with the secret admirer that wormed their way into his heart.

The notes made him feel like he was finally able to be genuinely close to someone. The notes made him finally find the thing that could fill the void - the sender with no name made his heartbeat.

That is why he couldn't wait for the day to come to an end and as speed walked his way to his locker, not have to worry about anyone seeing him since the school was mostly empty by now. With his bag slung over his shoulder, he jogged over to his locker with a small excited grin etched on his face. He couldn't wait to read about how your day went, or your interesting hobbies, or your jokes that actually made him laugh.

As he turned the corner of the hall, his movements came to a halt as he saw someone standing in front of his locker, his eyes widened at the unfamiliar person standing in front of the school lockbox. He couldn't see their face but their form was stunning, the uniform fit their body perfectly as their (H/C) fell over the sides of their face and hid their eyes. However, it wasn’t their looks that caught his eyes - it was the note in their hands, the same lilac envelope that was always found in his locker was in their tiny hands.

Could it be... was it actually you?

The sight made his grip on his bag loosen as the obnoxious sound of the bag clattered to the floor rang through the hall with an echo following it caused you to jump, and with a turn of your head, your gorgeous (E/C) eyes connected with the dark amethyst ones of the boy.

It was only a moment but it felt like time froze for Scaramouche as he caught the small glimpse of your eyes - they looked like they held a world of sorrow and happiness. Just as he was about to open his mouth and ask something, you turned on your heel and dashed down the hall as fast as you could, the lilac note fluttering to the floor just like it did the first day he had received one.

"Wait, no, hold on!!"

His call for you wasn't answered with a reply or action as he chased after you while picking up the note that fell on the ground. Chasing you through the building while calling after you didn't make you stop as you finally made your way out the doors through the school with him following you.

However, the minute he burst through the school doors and exited the building - he couldn't see you anywhere. He panted as he leaned over a little, hands on his knees with the note still in his hand. His heart pounded like it never did before, even though it hurt to see you run off like that he actually got to see who was the one sending him the letters.

And gods were you gorgeous, the thought of being able to find you in school the next day was all he needed to have hope as the large smile etched onto his lips. He was going to find you and finally ask for your name.

Looking at the envelope in his hand his heart warmed up, wondering what could be written inside this one - they were never consistent, they were all different whether it was a funny story, complimenting something he did, or comforting and asking him questions if they thought something happened. However, one thing that would never change was the loving words written in each one.

He brought the letter to his lips as if kissing it with no movement as he sighed and took in the natural flowery scent of the paper.

He would cherish this letter like all the others - however, the only person he would ever admit that too is you, whether it was in person or a letter.

[kogkagsecretadmirer]

For @niuniente KogKag Secret Admirer 2024!

We hope you enjoy this gift made by heather_trudy!

[d4rkthots]

夜の女王

(The queen of the night) Part one. -preview-

This story includes (mention of drugs, violence, murder, an other illegal acts -do not try at home.)

M (assassin/mafia associate) x F (Mafia Leader) seonghwa wanted you from the moment you met…

You stand staring out of your mansion window, getting where you were now wasn’t easily obtained. You wanted to become one of the most feared mafia leaders in Korea, men looked down on women, they didn’t see them as equals, you had to prove them wrong…you believed you were able to do whatever they could.

Seong-hwa was originally part of a rival gang that bullied you out of sales and becoming the biggest female dealer in Seoul. After his leader (Ryui Misano) was imprisoned for committing over a hundred murders Seong-hwa decided to help you. Seong-hwa was with Ryui when he got arrested but managed to flee and skip town.

Something about you made him want to reach out a feeling of longing, he was drawn to you before all this extra shit went down. After Ryui was arrested his other subordinate Yuto Yun received all of his properties and products, you needed to get rid of him before he targeted you. If you could get your hands on Ryui’s product you could be the biggest seller in Korea with extended connections. But you couldn’t find him.

Seong-hwa sits in a chair on his balcony, his messy black outgrown hair cascading over his forehead nearly fully covering his sharp brown eyes he stares at the scenery in front him pulling a cigarette out of its pack before dialing your number in his phone, he lights it and takes a long drag before pressing the call button and waiting.

You stare at the unknown number and answer the call after letting it ring twice. “Hello….?” You say a hint of caution in your voice.

“Hi there pretty~” Seong-hwa purrs into the receiver as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

Your eyes widen slightly and you quickly recognize the voice “…Seong-hwa…..? I thought Ryui got arrested, weren’t you with him….? How are you calling me right now?” You ask in confusion.

Seong-hwa lets out a faint laugh at your reply. “Oh dear~ you think I’m dumb?” He takes another long drag of his cigarette before speaking again. “I’ve been planning this escape for months, it finally paid off.”

You smirk slightly, flicking Your lighter a few times “so let me guess… you left town already? why did you call me…hmm?”

Seong-hwa can tell just by your tone over the phone you’re up to no good he lets out a soft sigh. “I want to make a deal.” Seong-hwa speaks plainly into the receiver and takes another long puff of his cigarette, he lets out another cloud of smoke that’s quickly blown away by the wind.

Your eyebrows raised slightly “and what might it be?”

Seong-hwa lets out a soft chuckle as he looks off into the night sky. “Ive been thinking about you…. Can’t stop. I feel like we were connected in the past life…I want to become partners with you…..Yuto’s staying at the Hyatt Regency…..Seoul bay hotel” The words came out of Seong-hwa’s mouth in a sensual way but he spoke with a serious tone of voice as well.

You scoff gently “How do I know I can trust you…..that you won't screw me like your boss did?”

“…….You don’t..” He replies back in a snarky tone of voice as he leans against the wall, he closes his eyes before taking one more deep inhale of his cigarette before exhaling and putting it out. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself~ if I’m trustworthy or not” He replies back playfully.

You wait a second before replying “…if you screw me I’ll make you regret it…” You say in a slightly threatening way “I hope you enjoy your vacation, don't miss me too much…and dont get caught…” you smirk

“Oh don’t worry dear I’m a professional~..” Seong-hwa speaks, being half sarcastic with a hint of playfulness before hanging up. The phone call abruptly ends and you hear a soft beep in your ear followed by a dial tone.

Despite Seong-hwa being a serial killer and complete psycho he acted like a genuine human he had limits when it came to assassinating (no women and no kids.)

If he wasn’t a killer he’d be a great husband.

Part two —-> (smut warning)

[eternal-moss]

Genshin impact? Sorry, all I know is the

🔸🔥Jinyan Cinematic Multiverse🔥🔸