Camp Camp Reader Inserts // ONESHOTS

Max X Reader

[[ SECRET ADMIRER ]]

Pairing: Max X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Language, fluff fluffier than Max’s hair, cliche and boring AF fanfic tho [[ I’M SORRY ]]
Word Count: 1,581
Prompt: “Person A starts receiving gifts from a secret admirer and tells their best friend, Person B, that the admirer must really know them to send such personalized gifts. When Person B reveals that they’re the secret admirer, Person A laughs at them until they realize Person B is serious.”
[[ PROMPT BY OTP--PROMPTS ON TUMBLR ]]

[[ A/N: Reader is 15 while Max is 16; they’re in Highschool. Also, this is an AU where David adopts Max. He’s now 30 years old.

Also, picture above is by me. uwu]]

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MAX’S P.O.V
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High School sucked.

Life sucked.

Neil nor Nikki went to my High School. The only individual that I ever appeared to favor with along with somehow admire had been [ NAME ] [ SURNAME ], a 15 year-old female who thankfully went to my High School. To be honest, we were fairly close. To put this a much simpler and exceptional way, we were best friends.

Genuinely, I wasn’t so adequate about revealing that information to anybody else. Dick move, I know, but I couldn’t help it. It was an automatic knee-jerk reaction.

First period on a Monday was never boisterous. More or less, school and life themselves. As I was advancing to my locker I heard giggles. God dammit. I forgot about Sasha and her so-called group of giggly bitches.

Yes, they actually go here, too.

“Eww, look, it’s Max.” Sasha snickered and Tabii, along with Erin, giggled silently to themselves. “You bitches want to say that to my face?” I snapped, the tension building up and amplifying in my system. The fact that I acquainted the motor response of victory made me feel good once they zipped their big mouths. “Didn’t think so. Fuck off.”

Sasha flipped her long vivid tangerine locks ever so slightly, before giving me a death stare. Man, if looks could kill, nobody would be face-first in the dirt because no one takes her or her goons seriously. It was amusing and altogether hilarious, honestly.

“Now, if you cunts excuse me, I’d like to head to my first class of the day without being late.” The smirk on my face was apparent and crystal clear. I turned away, finally striding over to my locker and twisting the knob to certain numbers. Once I cracked the code, I opened the small door then grabbed my utensils and textbooks for my first, second, and third class.

Time for Hell.

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“Mr. Maxwell!” A feminine voice snapped me out of my daydreaming. I looked up to meet our teacher, Mrs. Eliza, along with her harsh gaze. “This is the third time I’ve had to snap you out of your trance; is this going to be a problem for the rest of the class period?”

Damn was she annoying. Her high, shrill voice made me want to curl up and suffocate on some rat poison.

...Wait…

“No.” I grunted and she leaned down, getting a little too close for comfort.

“What was that, Mr. Maxwell?”

“I said ‘no’.” I sneered, my eyebrows creasing together in irritation. Mrs. Eliza then pulled back, standing up straight once again. “Excellent.” Her voice was low and bitter. I crossed my arms. “Now, would you like to tell us the answer to number forty-five?”