#coworker reader
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Ok so I know you did yandere!cheater already but what if you did married!yandere x mistress reader, like yandere already has a wife and kids but just canât resist cute coworker!reader. The only reason why yandere hasnât divorced his wife is because she would take the kids and all his money.
Yandere CEO x Co-worker reader
Thank you so much for requesting sorry it took forever (warning smut, cheating murder)
Yandere CEO~ Who seems to have the perfect life a pretty face a successful business a beautiful family but looks can be deceiving.
Yandere CEO~ Who has grown tired of his wife and has tried plenty of times to rekindle that flame, but nothing worked.
Yandere CEO~ Who decides to divorce his wife but is cut short when she threatens to sue him for all he has and take the kids too.
Yandere CEO~ Who is pretty much trapped and suffers in silence until he meets you~
Yandere CEO~ Who has always found you, his coworker extremely attractive but being the loyal husband, he is always kept his distance but now you just look so tempting.
Yandere CEO~ Whos eyes always wander to suggestive places whenever you're around and places his hands a bit to low on your back when guiding you somewhere.
Yandere CEO~ Who vents to you about his home problems alone in his office and what starts as a heartfelt conversation turns into him in-between your legs spread akimbo and pounding into you while groaning out praises until all that pent up stress is taken care of~
Yandere CEO~ Who swears you're just a fling and a stress reliever more like but he knows he's in love with you and that you're the only thing keeping him sane.
Yandere CEO~ Who takes you out to meet his kids (he has to make sure his favourite people get along and he needs to make sure you're good with his kids before he puts some in you) and naturally they adore you which warms his heart.
Yandere CEO~ Who decides to stage an accident for his wife to but an end to this madness he knows it will break the kid's hearts but they have you now and you're all they need.
Yandere CEO~ Who acts heartbroken after his wife dies (If his business didn't work out, he would've been an Oscars level actor) and you comfort him and kids all throughout the grieving period.
Yandere CEO~ Who marries you almost immediately after his "grief" and his kids already see you as a second mother so it's perfect~
"I love you Cara Mia I feel like I'm suffocating when you're not near you are my oxygen~"
âĄ
Remember single pringles God loves you and its about relationship not religion"
#yandere x reader#yandere#x reader#yandere oc#yandere imagine#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere boy#yandere quotes#yandere community#yandere boyfriend#yandere smut#tw yandere#yandere male#soft yandere#yandere x darling#male yandere#ceo yandere#coworker reader#yandere blog#yandere bf#yandere thoughts#x you#you x oc#oc x reader#yandere oc x reader#oc yandere#x
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hehehehhe, was thinking about construction worker simon who goes to work every day just to show off the lunches you make him for work. and it soon becomes a huge thing and all his coworkers and even managers look forward to seeing what you've cooked cause it never seems to be the same. it's literally the only reason simon wakes up in the morning to go to work; he has everyone jealous and prances around all proud, then tells you all about when he comes home :(
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#deunmiu dessie sideblog#my thoughts#rehehheehehe#random and messy#simon riley x reader#fluff#the man is smitten with u#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader#simon riley x male reader#deunmiu dessie#PLSSSS bonus if you decide to make something for his coworkers to eat as well#they literally cry at seeing you with the huge pan of wrapped food#simon is grumpy about it but one kiss from you and he's like a little puppy
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Independent
~10.6k words
From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.
Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.
Summary: âGo on a date with me,â he groaned.
âBecause of the cookies?â
âNo! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But sânot usually because of cookies.â
She laughed. âI donât date, Harry.â
Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaidâs dress she wore to one of her friendsâ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.
Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.
Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy đ
Do you hear that thundering sound? Thatâs my heart đ Rachel continued.
She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.
Donât shake your head. Say something! At least youâre single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.
âDo you have an emergency?â He asked her.
She shook her head. âNope,â she smiled. âNot at all.â
*
Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one anotherâs desks.
It seemed, as long as it didnât interfere with their work, there was no issue.
Which was fine by Harry.
He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. âHi, mâHarry,â Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.
Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harryâs faced his bossâ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldnât see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.
She had a little plant near her windowâa bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldnât tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her Lâs was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?
A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, âwe love youâ and âyouâre so sweet.â
âHi, Harry,â she smiled up at him to introduce herself. âWelcome to the team, are you having a good first day?â
He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. âI think mâin love with you,â she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. âI wouldnât laugh, kitten. Mâserious,â he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasnât right to say it while they were alone, but he didnât want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.
Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. âThatâs... very forward,â she reminded him. âAnd you donât know me.â
âI know,â he rubbed the back of his head. âI was going tâhold off on saying it until tomorrow, but mâunable tâcontain it. Youâre very beautiful and everyone seems tâgo tâyou when they need help, so I imagine youâre a lovely person,â he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. âMâgoing tâgo tâlunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jusâ wanted to tell you,â he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.
âNice meeting you Harry,â she called after him a smile on her lips.
He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. âDonât forget tâeat, kitten,â he called.
*
But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldnât help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasnât each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.
Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didnât seem right.
âHarry!â Val called from behind her. âAre you enjoying your first day?â
âImmensely,â did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.
âDid you just move to town?â Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.
Even if she wasnât going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.
âI did, mâactually looking for a place tâlive if yâknow of any places. Mâat a hotel until mâon mâfeet.â
Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. âMary Poppins has a room!â Rachel shouted.
Her cheeks turned bright red.
âHer roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know heâs good to go!â
Harry chuckled. âUm... whoâs Mary Poppins?â
The whole office giggled. âMiss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?â Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.
This was mortifying. Wasnât this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. âItâs a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. Thereâs a nice kitchen, all new appliances.â
Harryâs jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. âVal looks like sheâs going to bounce out of her seat,â Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.
âTell him about your living room!â Val sounded like she was bouncing.
âWaterâs included.â
âSheâs the cutest interior designer. Itâs so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,â Rachel continued.
âRent would be about twelve hundred,â she ignored her so-called friends.
âShe bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. Itâs seriously the coziest place Iâve ever been,â Val kept going.
âIn-unit washer and dryer.â
âThen she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. Itâs incredible,�� Rachelâs sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?
âYou get your own parking spot,â she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. âI think thatâs it,â she met Harryâs eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.
âHarry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.â
âMâsure I would,â he chuckled. âCould I see it sometime?â He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. âWhenever youâre free. Doesnât have tâbe today.â
âTodayâs fine!â Rachel assured him. âShe doesnât do anything on Mondays.â
She rolled her eyes. âToday is fine,â she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.
But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.
*
True to her friendsâ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.
There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. âYouâre very clean.â
She nodded. âI know, Iâm sorry.â
He chuckled. âYâdonât need tâapologize,â he put his hands in his pockets, so he didnât do something crazy like hold her hand.
âI donât want you to think Iâm crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I wonât have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then Iâll be kind of freaked out.â
He laughed. âI wouldnât do that. I like tâthink mâpretty clean myself,â he assured her. âI also...â he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. âYâfriends kinda put yâon the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,â he bit his lip. âYâdonât have tâfeel obligated tâhouse me.â
âI donât,â she promised. âI need a roommate and like Val said,â she shrugged. âShe did your background check so I assume you wonât kill me, probably. At least not because youâre a serial killer. Maybe because Iâm too clean.â
He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. âThank you, mâreally appreciative.â
She smiled. âYouâre welcome, Harry. Sorry weâll be around each other a lot.â
That didnât seem like a bad thing at all. âI think itâll be okay. We didnât really talk much today,â he shrugged. âIf yâget sick of me, mâsure I can find another place tâlive,â he winked.
She rolled her eyes. âWonât be necessary. But okay,â she sighed. âYou can move in whenever,â she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. âI have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.â
âSâvery kind of you, kitten, but yâdonât need tâdo that. Mânot going tâhave all that much stuff. Mâfriend Louis lives not too far from here. Heâll come help me.â
âOffer stands,â she assured him.
Harryâs eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. âAre those your old roommateâs boxes?â He asked.
She nodded. âTwo of them. Iâm supposed to bring them to her, but theyâre super heavy so Iâm like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. Itâs going to be two trips and Iâm just being a little lazy about it.â
âI can bring them down,â he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. âStill probably two trips,â he nodded.
âOh, I can takeââ
âNo, no,â he shook his head. âDonât want you tâhurt yourself. Let me,â he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.
âOh, thank you thatâs... thank you,â she swallowed, feeling grateful.
âNot a problem,â he assured her and left immediately.
When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. âDo you mind decorations?â
âOf course not,â he smiled. âCan I help?â
She blinked at him and tilted her head. âUm... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.â
âMâfine,â he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. âCan I hang something for you? Mâgood for height.â
Harry wasnât that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. âThat would be awesome,â she nodded. âThank you.â
âNot a problem, kitten,â he smiled.
*
Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadnât brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.
Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?
Maybe he wasnât in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.
No. She wasnât disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didnât fall in love with her.
It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.
He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.
But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. âWill you go on a date with me?â He asked.
She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. âSeriously?â She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldnât possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.
âYes,â he nodded.
âHarry, I canât date my roommate.â
âPretty sure sâhow most rom-coms start,â he smiled. âSâokay. Iâll ask again later. Have a nice night,â he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.
*
Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.
But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.
She couldnât believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. âIâve always wanted one of these. Theyâre so expensive,â she blinked. âHow do you have one?â
âM'sister got one when she got married,â he explained. âBut she doesnât bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.â
âCan we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?â
The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. âCourse. Anything else?â
She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. âThis is stunning,â her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasnât sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. âThis would look amazing in the living room.â
âBring it,â he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartmentâs dĂŠcor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.
âItâs your place too, Harry,â she reminded him. âIs there anything you want there?â
He smiled, shook his head. âYâseem tâhave everything, kitten. Mânot picky.â
âI donât want you to feel like a guest,â she pouted. âLike you should bring these,â she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. âI can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.â
He grinned. âSure,â he shrugged. âIf yâthink sâwhat I should do.â
âAlright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if thereâs anything else you want once youâre settled a bit?â
âCourse.â
They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. âIâll be right back.â
âIâll be here,â she smiled.
âHey kitten,â he said leaning against the door before he left. âWill yâgo on a date with me?â
âHarry,â she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. âYou canât be serious!â
âDeadly,â he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. âWill you?â
âI canât go on a date with you, Harry,â she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.
âThen Iâll ask again another time,â he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.
*
âHey Poppy, did yâwant tâgo get lunch with me?â Her eyes didnât move from her screen. âPoppy,â he repeated. âPoppy,â he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.
âMe?â
He chuckled. âYes, you.â
Her eyebrows pinched together. âWhy did you call me Poppy?â
âWell, mâassuming sâyour favorite flower,â it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. âAlso, everyone else calls yâMary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still donât know why, but I wanted tâbe different. Want you tâknow sâme when yâhear me talking tâyou.â
Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. âI see. Sorry,â she smirked.
âAnyway,â he came over to stand by her desk. âDo yâwant tâget lunch?â
âHarry, I told you I donât date.â
âMânot asking as a date. Mâasking as your coworker who has never seen yâeat a bite of food while youâre at work. Mâasking as your concerned roommate who worries yâdonât eat until yâget home for dinner. And I donât even want tâthink âbout how long yâgo without eating when youâre at your second job.â
She smiled at his thoughtfulness. âI donât go out to lunch with everyone,â she explained. âI donât know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while Iâm here,â she gestured to her desk. âLunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.â
âWell do you bring lunch?â He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasnât eating.
âI do, itâs in the breakroom. Iâll get it in a minute,â she promises. âGo, youâre wasting your lunch hour.â
âOkay,â he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. âHey Poppy,â he smiled.
âYeah?â She asked without looking up from her screen.
âNow that yâmention it though, will yâgo out with me?â
*
At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldnât be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldnât take out the trash and he didnât mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.
He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didnât have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didnât find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.
Harry bought groceries and didnât ask for any money from them. âMâsure youâll buy stuff too,â he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.
Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. âWill you try one?â She asked, hope in her voice.
Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. âGo on a date with me,â he groaned.
âBecause of the cookies?â
âNo! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But sânot usually because of cookies.â
She laughed. âI donât date, Harry.â
He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). âIâll try again,â he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.
*
âMary!â Val sang. âDo you have the stain stick?â She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.
It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. âSâimpressive,â he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.
âThatâs nothing,â Rachel said from the other end of the room. âMiss Poppins,â she smiled delightedly. âI have a missing button,â she told her.
That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.
âHair tie!â Someone called from the other side of the room.
âLint roller!â
They all called out items and she had every single one.
âDo you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?â Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. âYouâre getting a raise, Poppins,â he called.
Hunter turned to look at Harry. âI gave her the nickname,â he explained.
âI get it,â he chuckled.
âIf you need it, chances are she has it.â
âIf she doesnât, she adds it,â Val explained.
Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didnât want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?
*
Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. âHoly hell you said he was cute, not hot,â she gaped.
âAw, yâthink mâcute, Poppy?â He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didnât need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.
âI should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.â
âDidnât you buy Matt high-end cologne?â
âHence why I think heâs so hot,â Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.
âSorry Harry, weâll be out of the way in a minute.â
âTake yâtime. Mânot in a rush.â
âOh, you should come out!â Joey squealed. âHarry, please! Sheâs always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!â
âThanks, Mom. I donât need a babysitter,â she rolled her eyes. âNo offense, Harry.â
âSâokay,â he chuckled. âI donât want tâimpose. Plus mâin need of a shower.â
âDonât let us stop you,â Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.
âCan you not?â She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.
He laughed again and shook his head. âYâcan call if yâneed something,â he assured her.
âHarry, please come out! You can meet us there!â Joey said again.
She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasnât going to get out of it. Not if he didnât have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didnât need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.
âI can wait for you,â she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.
âThanks, Poppy.â
*
Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.
Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. âYâdonât dance?â
âOh...maybe later. Iâm not very good,â she admitted. âI like dancing with Joey because sheâs worse than me.â
She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. âThanks Mary,â she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.
Jaylen was next. Joeyâs twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.
The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.
She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.
After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harryâs mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.
âAre yâcold?â He asked.
She shook her head.
But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasnât totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasnât cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasnât obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldnât help but notice she didnât pull away. She didnât make a sound and her facial expression didnât change.
But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. âYâdonât have tâlie tâme, Poppy. Mâyour roommate and all. I know yâlike the apartment a toasty temperature.â
She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. âThank you,â she said kindly.
Harry really enjoyed holding her.
*
At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldnât she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylenâs girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.
Joey and Matt waved goodbye. âBye Hot Roommate,â Joey called waving to Harry specifically.
âJesus, Joey,â Matt rolled his eyes. âNice meeting you Harry,â he called.
Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. âGo on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.
She elbowed him. âI canât go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.â
He shrugged. âIâll ask later,â he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. âYouâre an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,â he listed. âWhoever yâend up with, mâgoing tâbe very jealous,â he assured her.
She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. âThank you, Harry.â
*
For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didnât go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating. Â
He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.
It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didnât like it).
Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).
She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.
He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. âPoppy?â He asked. She looked up at him. âGo on a date with me, please," his expression soft.
She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadnât caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didnât drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?
She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. âThat's very sweet, Harry. But I donât date.â
It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. âWhy not?â
She shrugged. He thought she wasnât going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. âI just donât date, Harry. I like being friends,â she told him.
He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didnât hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. âIf I hadnât told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?â
She giggled and shook her head. âNo.â
âOkay,â he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. âIâll keep asking then.â
*
When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. âOh, come on, Poppy,â he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. âSânot fighting fair,â he frowned.
She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. âI look okay?â
âStunning,â he grumbled. âMâso jealous I wonât get tâdance with you,â he pouted.
She shook her head. âI donât usually dance at weddings when I go alone,â she explained.
âWell, yâshouldâve told me. I wouldâve been your date.â
âHarryââ
âPlatonic date,â he rolled his eyes. âThis is worse than when yâwore that pencil skirt tâwork,â he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. âAn outfit change?â
She nodded. âYeah,â she shrugged. âMy sister is wearing green.â
Harry frowned. âSo?â
She shook her head. âI donât know. I just...â she shrugged. âItâs alright. I like this dress just fine.â
But it wasnât green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. âButââ
âSeriously, Harry. Itâs fine.â
The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. âWell when can yâwear it?â
She shrugged. âI donât know. Seasonâs almost over for a wintergreen like that,â she shrugged. âMaybe next year.â
Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. âGo on a date with me, Poppy.â
The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. âI canât, Harry.â
âPlease? Do it for the sake of that dress,â he pleaded. âWe donât even have tâcall it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever yâwant. Yâjusâ need tâwear it before yâcanât.â
She smiled. âThank you, Harry. But I canât.â
He sighed. âYouâre welcome, Poppy.â
âIâll see you tomorrow? Iâll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesnât make it home to you, then weâre going to have to go there anyway.â
It didnât replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.
âSure, Poppy. Iâd love to.â
*
She didnât need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.
Even when she should have asked.
Harry didnât notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didnât invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.
Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.
When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. âSorry I took your reading spot,â she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. âThank you for driving,â she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.
âYouâre gonna sleep there?â He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.
âHarry,â she protested.
âWeâre grown adults,â he reminded her. âWe can share a bed without it being weird. Sâlike a hotel room.â
âHarry,â she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. âI canâtââ
âMânot letting yâsleep in a chair or on the floor. So, itâs mâbed or yâarenât sleeping,â he shrugged.
She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasnât touching him. She smelled good in his room too.
âNight, Harry,â she mumbled.
âGood night, Poppy,â he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldnât break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldnât.
It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.
It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.
*
Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didnât. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.
Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.
Harry was worried she wasnât eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.
Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.
The poor thing looked exhausted. She didnât join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. âI miss reading,â she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. âMy eyes are exhausted though,â she rubbed them for good measure. âI think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.â
Harry snorted. âDonât burn yourself out, Poppy,â he rolled his eyes. âWhat are yâreading?â
âIâve been trying târead this book for months,â she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.
Then, he started reading.
Out loud.
âHarry,â she whispered her eyes wide.
âYeah?â He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. âMâstarting over, because I want tâknow whatâs happening,â he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didnât know what emotion she was supposed to feel.
âYou donât have toââ
He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.
Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.
*
Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didnât say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a weekâs worth of drinks in advance.
He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.
One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harryâs key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didnât like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.
Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone elseâs.
Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinnerâa soup that took hours and hours to make.
He didnât even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.
âPoppy,â he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.
âYeah?â She whispered.
If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. âGo on a date with me, kitten.â
âI canât.â
âSânot so hard,â he assured her. âYou sit across from me and be yourself because mâalready in love with you,â he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. âI tell yâhow stunning yâlook, I pay for you tâeat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that youâre probably too full tâeat and then I can kiss you wherever yâwant. Lips, cheek, forehead,â he shrugged. âThen we come home, and Iâll read a chapter of your book. Yâcan decide if yâwant tâgo on a second date.â
She giggled, her cheeks red. âI canât, Harry,â she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.
His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.
Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.
For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she canât go on a date with him. She didnât date. That he was crazy.
Not that she didnât want to. She didnât say no.
Hope bloomed inside him.
*
She didnât need anything. She didnât need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didnât deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.
All he did was make her soup.
She deserved so much more.
It almost seemed too obvious that they hadnât done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.
âYouâre staring, Styles,â she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.
âGo on a date with me,â he smiled.
She blushed, shook her head. âYouâre crazy.â
âYou havenât said no.â
"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.
Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.
âNo, youâve never said no,â he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldnât. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. âI remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me tâhear yâsay, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'canât or that y'donât date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'donât want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going tâkeep asking until y'say y'donât want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. Mâsure it does make me crazy. But I donât care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'donât want to.â
She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.
"Kitten," he murmured. She didnât look up. âPoppy,â he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. âGo on a date with me,â his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.
She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. âI canât,â she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please donât stop asking me.
As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."
A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.
"Only 'bout you, Poppy.â
*
Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.
He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.
Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.
It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.
Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.
âHarry?â
He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didnât have the number saved. âSpeaking.â
âOh, thank god,â the voice sighed. âItâs Joey,â she said. âHarry. Somethingâs wrong. She wonât stop crying and she wonât say anything but your name.â
He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didnât even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.
He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasnât sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.
He didnât knock as he hurried barefoot into Joeyâs apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.
âPoppy?â he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. âM'here. M'here, baby. Itâs okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. âOh kitten,â he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. âMâsorry, baby. M'here. Sâokay. Tell me. Please. Iâll make it better,â he promised.
Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.
"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.
Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.
"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.
*
Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.
But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.
âHarry?â Her voice was raw.
âHmm?â He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.
âWill you go on a date with me?â She whispered.
He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. âGod, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.â She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. âIâd take yâright now. Whenever yâwant.â
âIâm sorry.â
âNothing tâbe sorry for.â
"I have issues."
"We can work on them together."
"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.
"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.
She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."
"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.
She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."
Harry nodded. "Wellâ"
"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldnât devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. Iâm not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, donât I? I donât know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I donât think thatâs...fair."
It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.
Harry tilted her chin up. "Mâgoing to love you the right way,â he promised. âMâgoing to love you the way yâwant because that's what yâdeserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If thatâs the case mâprobably dead because sâthe only possible explanation,â she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. âBut it's not going to be a problem, kitten. Mâgoing to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. Mâgoing to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. Mâgoing to love you the way you love," he promised. âBecause sâan honor to love you,â he assured her. âSâan honor to be loved by you.â
She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.
"What, Poppy?"
"Do you love me already?"
"Of course I do."
She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. âCan we go home?â
âCourse, kitten,â he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.
He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. âHarry,â she whispered softly.
âHmm?â He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"
âIâm in love with you too.â
--
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#harry#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles blurb#harry styles blurbs#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles imagine#harry styles imagines#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#independent#coworker!Harry#roommate!harry
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yandere coworker ( pt.2 <3 )
yandere coworker who insists you move into the cubicle next to him- how else is he going to keep an eye on his intern?
yandere coworker who makes it a point to compliment you every day, lest someone else fill your head with insecurities and lies
yandere coworker who listens intently as you open up about your personal life, mentally filling in the blanks where his stalking fell through
yandere coworker who âaccidentallyâ spills his coffee on your suit jacket at work, and insists he has to take it to his âpersonalâ dry cleaners before you can get it back
yandere coworker who later sets the jacket on a mannequin in his room, relishing the faint scent of you it gave off
yandere coworker who has no shame talking, hugging, and cuddling with the mannequin- with a wig and your perfume he could close his eyes and pretend it was the real thing
yandere coworker who lets all his fantasies and delusions manifest while he holds mannequin you- he enjoys telling âyouâ how his day was and how âyouâ looked so good today and how âyou are the only light of his lifeâ- all while closing his eyes and stroking the wig of hair on top of the mannequin
yandere coworker who sulks when the mannequin starts smelling more like him and less like you, which leads him to the conclusion itâs time to return the suit jacket (only after heâs properly cleaned it up of course)
by the time you get it back and on your body, your other coworkers have a chuckle at how you smell just like yan coworker- what a coincidence!
yan coworker watches as you smile innocently, unaware the suit jacket was just the first of many pieces of clothing that was yet to be taken
authors note: would you guys like to see more yan coworker content? if so, would you prefer this format or short story? lmk in the ask box!
pt. 3 , Q&A Event
all works belong to and written by @agentsinopia
#i feel like scent is a really big thing for yan coworker#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere oc#yandere male#soft yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#male yandere x reader#yandere boyfriend#yan boy#obsessive yandere#obsessive love#yanblr#yancore#yandere blog#yan blog#actually yandere#yandere bf#yandere scenarios#yanderecore#yandere content#yandere community#yandere headcanons#yan bf#agent.s.works
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The Shape of Family â§âËâŕź
As a single dad, Steveâs world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practicesâand he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist
part one - you find out your work crush is a dad and offer to watch his mischievous little girl so he can get some work done 5.2k
a/n - penelope is a little shit and i love her dearly, general warnings/tags here
ââ .âŚ
���Hey, sorry to bother you, Steve. I just had a quick questionâ but before I forget, thereâs this little girl in the lobby knocking stuff over. Do you know if her parents are here?âÂ
âFuckâ sorry. One sec.âÂ
He brushes past you with an urgency that is typical of Steve. As the community outreach coordinator, heâs naturally a busy man. You havenât known him longâ just the couple of months since you became a volunteer for the local rec centerâ but itâs clear heâs dedicated to his work. Always zipping from one end of the building to the other, juggling class setups, organizing meetings, or hunting down the next thing that needs fixing. He tends to add more to his plate than he can carry, at least according to another staff member, which is why youâve been assigned to help him.Â
You strain to match his long strides and nearly take out a trash can when he turns a corner unexpectedly. But you canât lose him nowâ someone is always nearby to steal him for paperwork or performance reviews and all you have is a quick question.Â
The lobby unfortunately looks like a tornado blew through the front doors. Cabinets are thrown open, papers are scattered like leaves across the floor, and a chair has been toppled over. And said tornado has her cheek pressed to the vending machine glass, an arm twisted inside the dispenser box to reach for a loose pack of Skittles. The scene is almost amusing until you remember youâll likely be the one to clean it up.Â
âPenelope!â Steve scolds, not loud but stern enough to surprise you. Heâs consistently an embodiment of gentlenessâ always accommodating and rarely assertive. And while heâs still gentle with her, his tone carries a weight and firmness thatâs a stark departure from his usual demeanor.Â
The girl, Penelope, retracts her arm and spins around to face Steve. And if it wasnât for the shit-eating grin pinned to her face, you mightâve felt bad for getting her in trouble.Â
Steveâs hands snap to his hips. âI asked you to wait in my office.âÂ
She shrugs, âNeed a snack.â
Steve huffs and rakes a hand through his hairâ a habit when heâs stressed, which is most of the time it seems. By the end of the day, his hairspray will have been combed out and Steve will argue with the strands that curl over his forehead.Â
âYou can have one after you clean this up and if you stay in my office.âÂ
âCandy?â
âNo, no candy. Thereâs snacks in your lunchbox.â He bends to scoop up a few pamphlets to hand to her. âOr I have pretzels. Do you want that?â
She pinches a page between her nails, weighing her options.Â
Steve pries tiny fingers off, âDonât rip those. Put âem away please.âÂ
And she listens for maybe the first time ever, it seems, cramming a stack of them back on the shelf.Â
You gather your own stack of handouts and press them into Steveâs sleeve. He recoils a step, his eyes widening before rapidly shutting in a moment of realization. âSorry! You had a question- Iâm sorry.âÂ
Penelope abandons her organizing to plant herself at Steveâs left like a sidekickâ anything to get out of cleaning up. She gazes at you with a familiar pair of almond eyes and then it clicks. Her hair is the same shade of brown and her jaw, though softer, is square shaped like Steveâs. The resemblance is indisputable.Â
You redirect your stare to answer Steve. âUm, yeahâ I just needed to borrow the storage closet key to grab some more chairs.âÂ
âOh, of course.â He pats the front pocket of his jeans. âKeys are in my officeâ I hope.âÂ
Steve marches past you once again, a new mission in mind, tugging Penelope by the wrist and toeing a cabinet shut on the way out. Penelopeâs poor little legs must be tired if he always walks this fast.Â
âI donât want pretzels,â she eventually decides.Â
âThen you can have whatâs in your lunchbox.â He glances over his shoulder to confirm youâre in tow, âThis is my daughter, Penelope, by the way.âÂ
âNice to meet you, Penelope.â You wave, not that she sees.Â
A braid sits high on her head, swinging like a horse's tail with each hurried step. Her faded denim overalls ride up slightly, exposing just enough ankle to show off the bubblegum pink Converse on her feet. Sheâs a cute little thing, button-eyed and puffy-cheeked like a cabbage patch kid.Â
Steve nudges her with his hip, âSay hi.â
She throws you an impartial glance. âHi.âÂ
When Steveâs office is in sight, Penelope wriggles away from his hold to sprint down the hall. On her tip-toes, she flicks on the light, letting the door slam in Steveâs face. You catch him rolling his eyes as he stops the door with his foot for you. Penelope is clambering onto his chair like itâs a race and pushing off the desk to spin as soon as sheâs seated. Steve steers her out of the way to search the drawers, passing you a set of keys when he finds them.Â
âJust bring âem back, please. Dottie found them in lost and found last week.âÂ
âThanks, I will,â you promise, eyes falling over Penelope again.Â
Itâs your cue to leave, but your feet remain anchored to the floor. Your mind is buzzing with questions that neither of you have the time to discuss. The rational part of you knows you should exit before you let your curiosity win. Yet, you find yourself lingering in the doorway, stalling just long enough for Steve to lift an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
And before you can rule whether or not it's a good idea, you blurt out, âI can keep an eye on her if you want?âÂ
Penelope peaks over the back of the chair, perched on her knees so she can see.Â
Steve shakes his head, âNo, itâs okay. Youâve got stuff to do. And Penelope is going to be a better listener for the rest of the day, right?â He ruffles her hair, earning him a glare.Â
You bite back a smile. Itâs a funny thing, seeing that frown and furrowed brows that resemble Steveâs so clearly because you canât imagine him making that face at anyone ever. Itâs cute, even if itâs meant to be mean, but you would never tell her as much.Â
âI really donât mind. She could help me tape the flyers upâ If she wants something to do?â You direct the last part at Penelope. To a kid, being trapped in their dadâs dusty old office is probably boredom purgatory.Â
Penelope blinks at you and then Steve for permission.Â
âYou want to?â He asks.
She nods, then adds, âSnack too?âÂ
âYes, honey.â He sighs, faint but deflated, burdened by the guilt of not feeding her sooner. Steve fishes her backpack out from under his desk. A vivid shade of pink with a Barbie patch sewn to the front. Her tin lunchbox is similarly themed and only harbors a bag of fruit snacks.Â
âFruit snacks or pretzels?âÂ
Penelopeâs features pinch in a way that says neither but she snatches the fruit snacks anyway. Decidedly dismissed or over the conversation, she hops off the chair and sees herself out.Â
You canât help the smile that finds your lips as you turn back to Steve.
He chuckles, âItâs been a day. Bring her back if she doesnât listen. Good luck.âÂ
Penelope leans against the wall outside, popping a gummy in her mouth lazily.Â
âWeâre gonna make a pitstop at the supply closet and then you can help me with the flyers.âÂ
She doesnât say anything, but she follows as you start walking, and thatâs all you need from her. Sheâs strangely silent for a kid, especially Steveâs kid. Conversation seems to come easy to him, he likes to talk, which is one of the reasons you still canât believe you didnât know he had a child. On your first day as a volunteer, heâd crammed that he was on the swim team in high school, that he's from Indiana, and that he prefers the warmer months all in one conversationâ the guy is an open book. Â
And youâre quiet too because youâre focused on recalling where they put that damned supply closet. The rec center halls all sort of look the same still, bleeding into one jumbled image of wood paneling and old carpet in your mind. The building is practically a maze; constructed in the fifties, it still carries its historic charmâstubborn doors, leaky faucets, and allâissues the city claims they 'canât afford' to fix.Â
Penelope must get tired of going in circles because eventually she tugs on your sleeve and points down the opposite hall you were planning on going. When she leads you right up to the door you beam at her. For a second, she forgets to be brooding and smiles back.Â
âYouâre a smart little cookie, Penelope. Howâd you know it was here?â You ask, unlocking the door.Â
She shrugs nonchalantly, âI just know things.â
You laugh loud enough to draw eyes from a nearby meeting and determine Penelope is the funniest kid youâve ever met.Â
She holds the door open at your request, munching on her fruit snacks as you maneuver a stack of chairs into the hall. You make it back to the classroom without her directions, not to toot your own horn. She tosses her empty wrapper in the trash as you unstack the chairs.Â
âHere,â you pass her a roll of tape. âRip some pieces off for me?âÂ
She nods, ambling over to the wall with you. Â
âSo, Penelope, how old are you?â You ask, pressing a flyer against the wallpaper.Â
She debates, flipping fingers up and down on her free hand before concluding, âFour.âÂ
âOhh, very cool. Youâre almost ready to go to school with the big kids, huh?âÂ
âYes, at the big school. Iâm in pre-school.âÂ
âMhmm. Do you like preschool?âÂ
She hums no and strains to tear off a piece.Â
âHere, like this,â you demonstrate, pulling in the proper direction. She copies you, ripping a neat line. The corners of her lips raise as she views her handiwork.Â
âYou donât like school?â You ask, peering down.Â
She hands you the slice of tape. âOnly sometimes.âÂ
âWhy only sometimes?âÂ
She shrugs and heaves a hefty sigh for such little lungs. Sheâs too small to be sighing like that, you think, and she definitely acquired it from Steve.Â
âI only like work sometimes too,â you admit.Â
Her eyes chase yoursâ all innocently wide and filled with disbelief. She rips off another square of tape, âAre your friends not nice?âÂ
You consider her question, answering truthfully, âWell, maybe sometimes, I guess.âÂ
âMeg was not a kind friend today.â Her tone is hilariously chastizing for a child. Kids are just like mini adults sometimesâ collecting random phrases and mannerisms like trading cards. Â
âNo? Whyâs that?âÂ
âShe wouldnât share. Daddy always says sharing is caring.âÂ
âThatâs true. Did you tell your teacher?âÂ
Penelope shakes her head, tilting on her heels.
âWhy not?â
âMeg told the teacher on me because I wasnât being a kind friend either.âÂ
âOh. Why werenât you being a kind friend?âÂ
âBecause I wanted to play with the dolls too,â she mumbles, upset wavering in her voice. To a child, these seemingly trivial matters really do feel like the end of the world, so you canât help but empathize, even as you wish your worries were confined to sharing toys.
You crouch in front of Penelope, âWe still should be kind, hmm? Even when our friends donât want to share?âÂ
Penelopeâs unconvinced, picking at her nail like the dirt underneath is a more important issue. But youâre at the end of your stack of cardstock and it maybe isnât your place to have this conversation anyway.Â
You get her set up at a table with printer paper and a box of crayons from the closet. She dumps them out immediately, spraying rainbow across her paper so she can find the âbestestâ colors. Â
âI can share,â she declares, sliding her extra sheet over to your end of the table.Â
âThatâs very sweet of you. Thank you.â You catch a crayon before it rolls onto the floor. âWhat should I draw?âÂ
âIâm coloring my family.âÂ
âThatâs nice. I think Iâll draw a dinosaur.âÂ
âA dinosaur?â She cocks her head and giggles, bubbly and pure in the way that kids laugh. Your heart aches with happiness. âThatâs silly!âÂ
âWhat? Whyâs that silly?âÂ
She cackles like this is the funniest idea anyoneâs ever had. âThey just are!âÂ
âHmm. Should I draw a serious dinosaur then?âÂ
âAll dinosaurs are sillyâ Trevor says so.â
âWhat! Why does he think that?âÂ
Her words fuse into one smear of a sound as she shrugs, âI dunno.âÂ
âWell, my dinosaur is very serious. See?â
She presses into your arm to examine your quick sketch. âThatâs not a dinosaur!âÂ
âIt is! You canât tell?âÂ
She nibbles on her lip, smile growing as she shakes her head.Â
You pull the paper closer, as if a better angle might somehow improve it. âHmm, I guess it does look a bit like an alien, doesnât it?â
Penelope giggles and nods enthusiastically before returning to her work. Her crayon moves methodically across the paper, lips pressed together in concentration. After a long spell of silence, she kindly requests, âCan you draw a house?âÂ
âOf course,â you reply, âOn my paper or yours?â
âMine,â she says, her pointer finger tapping the corner of her sheet with emphasis.
The drawing is a riot of color, blending bold strokes of crayon to create two people and an animal. The taller, presumably Steve, is painted with orange and yellow huesâ true to the the warmth he represents. Penelope, doused in cooler tones, carries their floppy-eared petâ a bunny or a dog, maybe?Â
âWow, Penelope! This is amazing!â You genuinely mean it; despite her young age, her talent shines through in little details like eyelashes and a set of heart-shaped earrings. âIs this you and Daddy?â
âYes, and Cinderella!â she adds proudly.
âOh, thatâs wonderful,â you say, admiring her work. âIs Cinderella your pet?âÂ
She bobs her head animatedly.Â
âWow, she looks like a very pretty⌠animal in your drawing.âÂ
âShe is a very pretty cat,â Penelope affirms and you are relieved not to have guessed incorrectly. She stares at you for a long moment. âIs Cinderella family?âÂ
âWell, does she live with you?â
Penelope scrunches her nose and tips her head, âSort of?â
âShe sort of lives with you?â
âYeah. She lives outside mostly but sometimes I let her inside.â Her pitch fluctuates as she talks, the words lilting in a strange, almost sing-song cadence that kids do.Â
âOhh,â you smile. âDo you feed Cinderella?â
âYes, Daddy buys her food in a can and itâs really stinky!âÂ
Penelope joins you when you laugh. Not because you are but because stinky things are just funny at her age.Â
âDo you love Cinderella?â You ask.Â
âYesâ except when she bites me.â She sobers quickly, forehead wrinkling.Â
âOh,â you chuckle, âWell, I think sheâs family then.âÂ
âI think so too,â she states seriously, swapping a blue crayon for a green.Â
âWhat color should the house be?â You claw through the rainbow spread. Â
âWhite!âÂ
âWell, the paperâs already white but how âbout I outline the house in black so you know where it is?âÂ
âI guess so. Thereâs two windows and the door is redâ Oh, and there are lots of flowers outside.âÂ
You nod, sketching her vision into existence. âIs this your house?âÂ
âYes, and Daddyâs. And sometimes Cinderellaâs.â
âJust you three? Is that your whole family?â Admittedly, itâs a self-indulgent question. Youâre curious about Penelopeâs mom. And you noticed Steve doesnât wear a ring, checked multiple times in the last few weeks even. But that doesnât refute the possibility he might be seeing someone.Â
âYes, Daddy and Cinderella is my family. Daddy says families come in all shapes and sizes.âÂ
Youâre glowing with a fondness thatâs impossible to hideâ because everything about her is adorableâ her chubby cheeks, her tinkling little laugh, even her attitude, though Steve would probably disagree with the latter. Sheâs different than Steve in a lot of ways: grumpier and more aloof, but, at her age, itâs cute. And still, she feels like his carbon copy. An echo of everything youâve come to like about him.Â
Him being a dad makes perfect sense in retrospect. To have overlooked such an important part of his life seems silly. A tenderness radiates from Steve, the kind only a parent could possess. Heâs full of loveâ too much not to share. He pours lots into his work: late nights at the center, taking on more than he can chew, always with a smile. And the rest? It must go to Penelope.Â
âYour dad is very right about that.âÂ
She smirks confidently, holding up her artwork, âIâm going to give this to him.â
âI bet heâll love it so much, Penelope!âÂ
And his dad senses must be tingling at the mention of his name because his face appears in the doorâs slim window not even a minute later. His lips curve into a grin as he realizes heâs been caught spying.Â
The door clicks and Penelope turns. âHi, Daddy.â Â
âHi, baby,â Steve strolls over to the opposite side of the table, âAre you being a good listener?â His attention flicks around the room, searching for any signs of misbehavior.Â
Penelope shimmies up tall in her seat and nods until he meets her pleased gaze.Â
Steve must believe the girl because he doesnât press further, but you praise her anyway, âVery good. Penelopeâs been an amazing helper this afternoon.âÂ
âIs that right?â He orbits the table to stand behind her. âWhat are you drawing, Nell?â
She flips over her paper, clapping the front against the table. âItâs a surprise!â
âOh, sorry!â He paces back, redirecting his attention to you. âI didnât see it.âÂ
Penelope twists around to confirm his eyes are elsewhere before proceeding to squeeze in a final set of detailsâ grass blades and sun rays. âHere,â she thrusts the page into his hands. âFor you.âÂ
âFor me?â His face lights up like a Christmas tree before heâs even seen it. She could hand him a pebble, and heâd treasure it like a gem. And when his eyes do fan across the drawing, he melts.Â
âThis is so lovely!â He coos. âWhere did you get all this talent from? This belongs in a museum, Nell!â He keeps his heart from bursting with a steady palm to his chest. And with his free hand, he flashes it at you just long enough to catch a glimpse before he reels it in to study some more. âAnd you got Cinderellaâs stripes too. Wow.âÂ
He squats behind Penelopeâs chair, throwing an arm around her middle, âThank you for this. And thank you for being a good listener. That makes my heart very happy.âÂ
She slumps into his chest, peering up at the reflection of her own features. âIs it time to go?âÂ
His eyes leap to the clock hung on the opposite wall. âCouple more hours, babe.â
Penelope huffs.Â
âIâm gonna hang this in my office. I love it so so much!â He sows a couple of kisses on her temple, straining to stand with achy knees. âYou wanna come hang out with me or stay here?âÂ
She looks at you like you might object. âHere.âÂ
If Steveâs offended, he doesnât show it. Heâs still grinning like the Cheshire cat, high on the parenting win that is receiving willing affection from your child. âThat okay?â He asks you.Â
âOf course. Iâll put her to work,â you reassure.Â
âGood, keep her busy. It keeps her out of trouble.â He raises the drawing for another look. âIâll be in my office, doing paperwork, yay.âÂ
You snicker, as he retraces the path he came. âHave fun with that boss!â
Just before the door slams shut, he yells back, equally playful, âI told you to stop calling me that!â
Penelope doodles some more, gifting you a vibrant rendition of the night skyâ a collection of stars and circles and swirls. Youâre so grateful you tell her itâll go on your fridge, and it does as soon as youâre home. She sorts through toys and equipment in the gym closet and even holds your dustpan when you sweep. Her role as your helper is taken very seriously.Â
The two hours pass faster than you expect. Time flies when you're having fun, as Steve would say. All his little phrases and cheesy jokes suddenly make sense in the context of him being a dad.Â
She takes your hand on the way to Steveâs office, escorting you when you pretend not to know which direction itâs in. Itâs as comforting as it is validating; winning the kindness and attention of four-year-olds, especially this one, is difficult. You knock on the wood frame even though the doorâs propped open.Â
Steve peaks up through a rare pair of reading glasses. Round, wireframes that match the golden shade his hair assumes when it catches the light. They highlight his eyesâwarm and gentle as a summer breeze. But he swipes them off his nose, folding them with practiced care.Â
A smile mends his frown as Penelope climbs into his lap. âHi, sweetheart.âÂ
She wiggles into a comfortable position, nudging his chest until he reclines further to make space. âHi.â
âAre you having fun?â Steve cradles her shin to keep her from slipping. âWhat have you been up to?â
âCleaning.â Her tone is casual, dismissive even, like itâs nothing to fuss over; but her eyes are fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.Â
Steve gasps, âNo way! You were cleaning? I donât know if I believe it.âÂ
âI was!â Penelope whines, tickled with glee.Â
âHmm, is this true?â He arches an eyebrow at you.Â
You nod, delighted to play along. âIt is. Penelope here is excellent at handling a dustpan. She even organized the dodgeballs by color.â
âReally? Because you never-ever want to clean at home.â
âI do!â She squeals, bending backward over the arm of his chair.
âYeah right.â He blows a raspberry on her belly where her shirt has pinched up.
She shrieks, squirming and kicking her heels into his thigh. Steveâs dad reflexes must clock in because he blocks her knee just before it drives into his cheek. And he takes it as a sign to ease up before someone gets hurtâ craning back up and scooping Penelope into a baby cradle against his chest. Her legs are long and lanky, dangling over his arms like uncooked spaghetti.Â
âDo we need to invite them over every time you make a mess in your room? Will that solve the problem?â He teases, squishing her arms against his shirt so she canât escape and peppering kisses from temple to temple.Â
Eventually, Penelope comes to terms that no amount of writhing will succeed against his strength. She slackens in his embrace, surrendering to the terrible thing that is unconditional love.Â
âOh, here are your keys!â They rattle against the desk where you drop them.Â
Steve nods into Penelope's crown, poking her side. âCan you say âthank you for hanging out with me?ââ
Anticipating another round of tickles, she grins before parroting, âThank you for hanging out with me.â
âThank you for helping me clean!â
Her eyes sweep back over to Steve, âCan we go home yet?âÂ
His fingers tap rhythmically on the desk, a small sigh escaping as he glances at the paperwork drowning his workspace. âWeâll leave as soon as Iâm finished.â He pecks the top of her head. âPromise.â
She rolls her eyes, moaning, âDaddy, come on itâs taking, like, a million years!â
âA million? Surely not.âÂ
âIt is!â She elongates the sound until itâs less word and more noise.Â
His shoulders droop, tension slipping from his frame as he agrees, âOkay. Iâm ready to go too.âÂ
You donât blame him for giving in so easily, Penelopeâs puppy eyes are powerful. Her chunky little hands smoosh his cheeksâ molding and kneading like itâs play-doh, âIs that why your face looks so sleepy?â
A hearty laugh bursts from his throat, âYes, thatâs why my face looks so sleepy.â He pats her arms, âCome on. Up.âÂ
Penelope scoots off his knees, gripping his wrist for balance. Steve ducks under the desk for his backpack and shoves the stack of paperwork inside.Â
âHey, I meant to ask you, is the new schedule working okay for you?â He asks you, always so thoughtful.Â
You nod earnestly. âYeah, actually, I like doing Fridays better I think.â
âYeah, Fridays are fun. Fitness Friday has been a big hit with the high school's soccer team.â He slings his bag over his shoulder and lifts Penelopeâs by the strap.Â
âOh, good! Did the new jump ropes come in?â Conversations like this, as mundane as they are, are fleetingâ the next interruption always around the cornerâ so you savor it while you have him.Â
âMmmm, not yet. I think theyâre coming next weekâ shipping delays or something.âÂ
You turn to leave but stop in your tracks, attention stolen by Penelopeâs drawing. As promised, itâs hung upâ a few pieces of scotch tape secure it to the wall across from his desk.Â
âIâm gonna get a frame for it,â Steve passes you with a toothy smile, flicking off the light.Â
Penelope chimes in before you can respond, âCan I play jump rope?â
âI don't know if you know how, babe. I can teach you.âÂ
âI can! I did at school!â
âYou did? I didnât know that.â Steve waves to a passing coworker. âMaybe weâll buy one for home too then.âÂ
Penelope nods, hopping the last stretch to the front door.Â
âAny fun plans this weekend?â Steve asks you outside, bumping the back of Penelopeâs hand until she takes his. The parking lot is almost empty at this time of day, but a few stragglers remain inside after hours.Â
âIf you think laundry is fun, then sure.âÂ
âOh, I know all about that, trust me.â He nods at Penelope, âThis one goes through more clothes in a week than I do in a month.âÂ
Steve approaches a BMW, only a few spots over from your car. An older model, but well taken care of. Itâs a nice shade of burgundy with a stick-figure family on the back windshield. It feels so him.Â
You hum a happy sound. âWhat about you? Any plans?âÂ
âBesides laundry? Well, weâre actually going kayaking at Red Fleet tomorrow,â he unlocks the passenger door, tucking the backpacks in the footwell.Â
âOh, fun! Are you excited?â You ask Penelope.Â
âIâm gonna look for frogs.âÂ
She wrenches the handle a few times before her door flies open. Steve intercepts mid-swing to prevent her from denting the neighboring truck at the expense of his fingers.Â
âOwâ shit,â he grimaces, shaking his wrist. He visibly swallows any other swears when he sees Penelope gawking, âNell, Iâve told you to be gentle with the door.âÂ
âYou said we canât say that word,â she points out, climbing into her car seat.
You scrub your mouth, not so inconspicuously erasing your smile.Â
âIâ yes,â he nods, âYouâre right. We shouldnât say that word. I justââ
âEven when weâre frustrated; thatâs what you said!âÂ
Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, choking down his several feelings. Sheâs right, he did say that, to hopefully stop her from swearing at preschool, but the profanity policing is comical coming from a four-year-old. And he canât be laughing right nowâ he has parenting to doâ but heâs on the verge of breaking when he catches sight of your face. Â
Steve collects himself as he buckles her in. âYes, Penelope. I shouldnât have said it. Iâm sorry.âÂ
She pats his head, âItâs okay. We all do mistakes.âÂ
Steve softens. The irritation evaporates instantly, replaced by a surge of satisfaction. This is one of those rare moments where he can so clearly recognize the lessons heâs instilled taking shape.Â
He lets himself chuckle then, âWe do. We all make mistakes and thatâs okay.âÂ
She nods as he tightens her straps, âLike when I spilled my juice this morning.â
âExactly.â He triple-checks that all her limbs are safely out of the doorâs reach before shutting it. Â
He faces you, scratching his cheekâ rosy and round with joy. âHow much you wanna bet she swears at me tomorrow?â
âHey, I donât doubt it!â Your elation mirrors his.Â
âIf she canât find any frogs at the park I can almost guarantee it.âÂ
âBetter help her look then.âÂ
âYeah, yeah. Iâd invite you but itâs reservation-based. And Iâd be surprised if thereâs any spots open still⌠But we can sneak you in if you really want to go.â Itâs meant to be a joke, but something in the way he holds your gaze suggests a level of seriousness.Â
âNo, thatâs okay,â you grin. âThe pile of laundry on my bed awaits.â
âWell, maybe next time.âÂ
You try not to read into it. Steveâs a friendly guy, he probably invites his coworkers out to things all the time.Â
You nod, idling at the hood of his beamer.Â
âI really appreciate you watching her today. Youâre a lifesaver, truly,â he shakes his head, peeking at Penelope through the window. âSheâs been a handful latelyâ I mean, I had to pick her up early today because she bit another kid, can you believe that?âÂ
âSheâs a kid,â you shrug, âAll kids do that at some point.â Â
âI donât know,â he pinches the bridge of his nose, âIâm honestly at my witts end. This is her third warning and if she gets kicked out of schoolâ I donât know what Iâll do.âÂ
âFrom what I saw today, sheâs a really good kid, Steve. I canât imagine theyâd do that.âÂ
âIâve just been so busy, you know, sometimes I wonder if she acts out because of thatâ and itâs just me so I canâtââ he pauses, wiping his face, âGodâ Iâm sorry, youâre⌠Iâm just dumping all of this on you when youâre trying to leave.â
âNo! Itâs okay, I donât mind, really.âÂ
âItâsâ Well, itâs a lot and I,â heâs cut short by Penelope knocking on the glass, impatience strewn across her features.Â
He throws up his pointer finger to tell her one second. âWe can talk next week. Youâll be here Friday?âÂ
âYep. I will see you then,â you nod, backing up a step so he can cross over to the driverâs side.Â
âOkay, thanks again,â he says, opening his door.Â
You wave goodbye, âOf course. Have fun kayaking!âÂ
âYou too!â He yells, then mumbles, âShit.âÂ
âDad!â Penelopeâs voice scolds.Â
A warmth simmers in your chest as you walk awayâ a fizzy feeling that had been bottled up and crammed into a forgotten corner of your body. But as soon as youâre settling into the privacy of your car, it boils over into this rush of giddy exhilaration, electrifying every inch of your skin. Giggles cut through the silence as your smile stretches wider, completely untamable. Thereâs no stopping this, not when youâre already fantasizing about a next time with Steve.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington#stranger things fic#stranger things#dad steve harrington#coworker steve harrington
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Yandere Harem Coworkers x New Hire Reader
Now with a part 2 <3
Good news: You landed your dream job! Bad news: Your coworkers are fucking insane.
CW: Yanderes, workplace harassment, possessiveness, implied stalking, power dynamics, dubcon touching
You hadn't expected a job like this to come so easily.
It really had been a dream job from the moment you laid eyes on the job posting, and they'd even offered you better during the interview! They'd even thrown in an extra sign on bonus! You couldn't believe your luck. You were finally going places.
Really, how could you say no?
Your interviewer was the HR manager, Leon Jacobs. He was a stern looking man, clearly in his late 40's, and didn't seem to have a single flaw in his appearance. His age showed in the beginnings of grey hairs atop his tidy, shortcut black hair, and the creases beneath his eyes. His appearance was beyond intimidating. Dark, scowling eyes picked you apart from behind his glasses as you fidgeted in your chair. Whatever nightmare of an interview you thought was coming, never happened. Instead, you were surprised when he almost immediately offered you not only the job, but an even better salary and bonus than was advertised. You were almost too stunned to speak, as he held out his hand to shake, his dark expression lifting with the slightest twitch of his lips. You took his hand shakily in agreement. In your excitement, you didn't notice the way his hand gripped yours a hair too tight, or how his touch lingered for a few moments longer than it should have. The way his gaze intently followed your figure as you walked out was also missed by you.
"We're so happy to welcome you to the team. Our team will make sure your time working here is as pleasant as possible."
Your trainer is a well respected man, Warren Pen. Warren is a huge man, easily towering over you. While he'd be otherwise intimidating at his size, his warm expression and demeanor quickly puts you at ease. How could you be afraid of him, with his warm brown eyes and bouncy red curls and gentle smile? You quickly learned that he must have a pretty high position in the company. His office alone was almost as big as your entire apartment! The office they give you is nearly as big, much to your surprise. Warren reassures you that it's not a mistake, that they just want you to be comfortable in your new position. You are so very important to the company, after all. As he helps you settle in, you're amazed by his generosity and kindness. You're too happy to question why there's such a big office space right next to his open for you, or why such a high ranking worker would be assigned to train a newbie. You're initially confused about why all your other coworkers seem to cower away from him... until you see him lose it on a poor intern. His demeanor changed from a gentle giant to a raging monster within the blink of an eye, screaming at the intern over a simple filing mistake. You find yourself suddenly on your toes around him, waiting for a verbal barrage over one of your mishaps, but it never comes.
"Don't worry, I'd never treat you like that. They deserved it. You're doing perfect."
Your department's boss is a man named Jax Wright. Jax is a charming man, and the childhood best friend of Warren. He's slim and tall, with black hair and a slightly rugged appearance. He always seems to be in a rush, hair usually rustled and a 5 o'clock shadow a constant on his face. Yet, he somehow takes time out of his busy day to visit you. Or, more accurately, he finds the time to corner you when you're alone or with Warren. You don't want to lose this dream of a job, so you don't mention the way the childhood friends always find a way to crowd around you in the more narrow hallways or the breakroom. They insist you have lunch everyday with them, why would you want to eat by yourself? You really shouldn't deny your superiors' lunch requests, y'know. You ignore the lingering touches as he leans in far closer than necessary to examine your work, hands placed possessively on your shoulders. He loves to give you overwhelming praise, even for the most minor of accomplishments. You're afraid your other coworkers will think the worst of you because of the special treatment, but they seem to be avoiding you nearly as much as they avoid Warren.
"Good job. You're exceptional as always. It's been an absolute pleasure to work with you. Keep being good and you're bound for a raise."
With the rest of the department seeming to avoid you like the plague, you start to believe that you're stuck with just the overbearing childhood friends to talk to. That is until the secretary, Jake Moor, begins to talk to you. Jake is flamboyant, to say the least. He's bright, from his beaming white smile to his wide array of cute, colorful ties he matches with his suit. He's young, in his early 20s, and his bright blonde hair only adds to his youthful appearance. He's almost too much, talking at light speed and somehow being more touchy than your boss. He always finds a reason to pull you into hugs, or rustle your hair playfully. It doesn't bother you much though, he's just being friendly, right? And you really don't want to lose one of the few friends you have in the department. He has some sort of treat for you everyday, usually a homemade meal or pastry you have to find the time to eat alone before you're coworkers steal you away to have lunch with them. His cheerful nature motivates you to stay with the company, he really is your "beacon of light". You even find yourself giggling to yourself as he sends you silly motivational cat pictures throughout your day. He's so cute you don't even question how he got your number when you never gave it to him yourself. You do find it a bit odd that he knows exactly where to go when your car breaks down one day and he gives you a ride home, but you'd told him you lived in those apartments on the east side, remember? He'd never use his position to look at confidential paperwork. Never.
"I brought you in some cookies I baked last night, and here, I even made some dog treats! I've never made them before, let me know how he likes them! How did I know you have a dog? ...you told me, remember? Silly!"
As the weeks pass, you start to become more accustomed to your coworker's odd mannerisms. They still wear on you, but the money is just so good. You need it, where else would you even go? There's no chance you'd find anything near as good, if you found anything at all. You needed this job, Jax and Warren's overbearing natures aside. At least you had Jake, who always seems to know exactly what you need whenever you need it.
You can tough it out... right?
#reader insert#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere boss#yandere coworkers#yandere harem#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines
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Okay, So I'm the only girl on my team at work. And I'm telling yâall, regardless of age or relationship status, guys absolutely get excited when you give them stuff. Even if they act like they don't. All I can do is imagine how this would work with the 141.
Like imagine you make Gaz a bracelet. It's nothing too crazy, just a single strand of green pony beads. It didn't even take a lot to make it. Just some small, homemade thing that you give to him while you've got some down time between tasks.
He absolutely lights up, smiling wide, eyes bright. He thanks you with a side hug and a kiss to your temple. It's more than what you were expecting, but you're not gonna complain.
You don't think much of it, and move on with your business, nearly forgetting about the bracelet⌠until Soap interrupts you at the gym, demanding to know why Gaz got one and not him.
You didn't think he wanted one, and you certainly didn't think he'd be so distraught over something so silly. So, you promise him a bracelet, and you deliver it to him the next day. A single strand blue bracelet.
Johnny's ecstatic, grinning like a kid on Christmas. He gives you a bear hug, and a messy kiss to your cheek, practically singing your praise as he leaves.
Price is next. But thankfully you don't give him a chance to ask. You had noticed the way his gaze lingers on the bracelets that Gaz and Soap have, the small frown he's got after talking to them.
You make him a yellow one, and drop it off on his desk with some paperwork. No need for all the fanfare or even the chance he might reject it. He doesn't. He does bring you your favorite drink, his way of saying thanks. And the yellow bracelet is on his wrist the whole time.
Ghost is last, only because you didn't think he'd want one. But ever since Price got his, Ghost has been waiting with baited breath for one. He's not going to outright ask, will even scoff if Soap or Gaz brag about it. But he wants one!
It's late, when he drops by your barrack, quiet when you open the door. It takes him a moment to gather the courage. But eventually, he holds his hand out, asking where his bracelet is.
When you admit you hadn't made him one, he's a little hurt. You're teammates. Why wouldn't he want one? But you invite him into your barrack, letting him sit with you as you make the bracelet. It's just black, his color of course, but he leaves, smiling under the mask.
Oh, and when you show up for the next briefing with your own bracelet, a repeating pattern of green, blue, yellow and black, no one comments on it. But it's hard to ignore the way they all smile at you, a soft look in their eyes.
#poly!141#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john price x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#this is 100% inspired by me making all my coworkers bracelets and the way they all lit up when i passed them out#gaz cod#soap cod#price cod#ghost cod#maybe a little ooc but i dont give a fuck#my writing
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18+ smut ahead !!!
older!coworker!eddie
this is kinda gross-ish if u donât like it donât interact <333
Itâs disgusting, really, the way he has you bent over the dirty sink in the staff bathroom, sending you on your break so he could finally get his fill of you, so cruelly denied to him. You like to tease him with the idea of letting him have you, often bartering an earlier dismissal or a later shift on the schedule in exchange for your soft lips wrapped around him.
God knows how many times heâs scheduled you to close alone with him, turning off the cameras in the stores just so that he could get a taste of you, hanging on to the creaky shelves of the store for dear life as tears weep down your thighs and onto his face, where heâs stuffed his face down your dress, fingers bruising into your hips.
This time isnât any different, really. âCan't believe you let me do this to you.â He pants over your bare back, feeling the plush of his lips trace your spine âM gonna take care of you, sweet girl, don't you worry.â
You respond with a whine, as his hand creeps around your face to cup at your mouth. He molds you and moves you as he pleases, and you let him. Even when his thrusts get a bit violent and your eyes seem to find a better home behind your head, a sharp smack to your ass brings you back down to earth, trying to squirm away from the never- changing overwhelm of pleasure.
âDonât run from meâ he singsongs in between grunts, his grip at the crease of your hips, letting the fat there hug his fingers, as you feel his nails dig into your skin, his rings pinching at you âYou wanted this, didnât you?â he continues, removing his hand from your mouth for a split second, to hear a pornographic mhm! escape the fullness of your lips, bitten raw from Eddieâs ministrations a moment before, as he picked you up and sat you down on the sink.
âOne of these daysâ he begins, his smokerâs lungs not allowing him much reprieve between his rough thrusts into you and his ragged breath. âOne of these days, Iâll take you out, huh pretty girl? After work, jusâ me and you. Take you on a nice date, bring you homeâ a sharper thrust comes after that, your head becomes smushed against the mirror, your ragged breath fogging up the glass.
âFuck you on a real bed, would you like that? Iâd be so good to you babyâ he almost pleads, as if he was a dumb teenager trying to convince you to run away with him. His tone is pouty, condescending. He knows that he could get you to do whatever he wanted if he asked, and the thought of it makes you weak in the knees.
You know he only has a few thrusts left, with only five minutes of your break remaining. The loud schlick sounds fill up the dingy, neon- lit bathroom, your ears ring as strings of fuck, youâre so tight and your muffled cries against his hand accompany Eddieâs impeding release. Not for you, not when youâll be closing with him in a couple hours.
He spills himself into you, biting on your shoulder to muffle the loud grunt that escapes him. He quickly tucks himself back into his black trousers, pulling up your panties with a wicked grin.
âIâll see you at closing time, sweet girlâ
_
lmao idk what this was (i think iâm ovulating)
(pssst @littlexdeaths this is for u)
#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfiction#stranger things#eddie x fem!reader#coworker!eddie munson#eddie munson au
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UNDERCOVER HEAT (FT. TOJI)
synopsis. undercover mission, heated brownies, and a halloween partyâwhat could possibly go wrong? wc. 5.4k. content. detective au. aphrodisiac intake. Ĺral sÄx. Čex (missionÄry, doggy, prone bone). and more i just can't remember lol. an. first time writing a toji fic. i hope it doesnât disappoint đđ˝. very tired so if anything doesnât make sense just pretend like it does.
âyou look like you just stepped out of a comic book,â toji says, his dark eyes sweeping over your form as you navigate the crowded room.
âyouâre one to talk, bruce wayne,â you shoot back, smirking as you elbow him playfully in the ribs. his confident grin widens, but the flirtation is cut short when you remind yourself of the real reason youâre here.
the two of you are on an undercover mission, blending in as partygoers to gather intel on a notorious drug lord rumored to be making a deal tonight. your focus is to blend in, stay low-key, and keep watch for any suspicious activity.
yet, the tension between you feels just as dangerous as the mission.
the crowd is wild, people in masks and costumes dancing under the flashing lights, the music vibrating through your chest. you stick close to toji, keeping an eye on the room while trying not to be distracted by how good he looks in that suit, his tie slightly loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, his tattoo peeking through.
as you both move through the party, a table laden with snacks and drinks catches tojiâs eye. he slows, raising an eyebrow as he picks one up, inspecting it with mild curiosity.
âweed brownies,â he says, offering it to you with a teasing smirk. âcâmon, loosen up. weâve got time.â
you arch an eyebrow. âweâre on duty, toji,â you try to remind him.
âjust half,â he urges, nudging it toward you. âitâll help you relax a bit. youâre too uptight for this.â
with a reluctant chuckle, you accept half, sharing a knowing glance before you both take a bite. the sweet flavor melts on your tongue, and you try to suppress the nagging feeling that you might regret this decision.
he grins, finishing off his half before leading you further into the crowd. at first, you donât feel any different. you remain sharp, alert, your eyes scanning the room.
as the night wore on, you both felt the effects start to creep inâthe heat started to build within you, and every glance at toji made your heart race in a way you couldnât explain.
a warm, insistent pulse thatâs building deep inside you, spreading through your veins with every beat of the music. you glance at toji, and your breath catches in your throat. heâs closer now, his dark eyes fixed on you with a new intensity. his lips part slightly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and you can feel the air between you thickening.
âthis feels... different,â you murmur, shifting slightly as the heat pools low in your abdomen. the fabric of your bodysuit suddenly feels too tight, too warm.
âyeah,â toji says, voice lower than before, almost rough. his hand brushes against yours, and you flinch, hyper-aware of how close he is. âweed doesnât feel like this.â
you glance around nervously, suddenly aware of the pounding music, the dancing bodies pressing against you. the lights seem brighter, the air heavier, and when you look down at the table again, your stomach drops.
there, right next to the tray of brownies, is a small sign.
âaphrodisiacs.â
âtoji,â you hiss, pulling him closer. âthose werenât weed brownies.â
he reads the sign, then looks back at you, realization dawning. âfuck,â he mutters, running a hand through his dark hair. âyouâve gotta be kidding me.â
the heat is overwhelming now, pooling in your core, making every nerve in your body sing with need. and tojiâheâs so close, his body radiating warmth, his woody musk filling your lungs, making it impossible to think straight.
your hand drifts down to his arm, gripping the fabric of his suit as you step closer, your body pressing against his. the desire is overwhelming, and you canât hold back. you start to move, swaying your hips in time with the music, grinding against him with deliberate movements.
âtoji...â you whisper, voice thick with need, âi canât...â
he groans, his hands finding your waist, fingers digging in as he pulls you against him. âkeep it together,â he murmurs, but his grip tightens, drawing you impossibly close. âwe canât let this ruin the mission.â
âi know,â you breathe, the words barely escaping as you press yourself against him, your body instinctively seeking friction. every pulse of the music drives you further into a frenzy, the heat pooling between your thighs, craving more.
âgod, youâre driving me insane,â he admits, his voice low and rough, the desire in his gaze igniting something carnal within you. âwe canâtââ
his lips ghost over your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. âwe really shouldnâtâŚâ but his hands are already wandering, sliding over your waist, his touch burning through your bodysuit. instinctively, your hands find his chest, pressing against him as your body moves in sync with the music in the background.
âdonât stop,â you whisper, your voice barely audible over the thrum of the music. your body arches into his, craving more, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in the moment.
his control slipsâjust for a second. the space between you becomes charged with an undeniable need. toji leans in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, so close to closing the distance whenâ
he stiffens.
his eyes snap to something in the crowd, cutting through the haze. your own gaze follows his, heart still pounding in your chest, blinking away the daze of desire when you spot the drug lord making his way toward a back room, a sleek black briefcase in hand.
âshit,â toji curses under his breath, his voice hardening with frustration. his grip on you loosens slightly, his hand sliding down to grab your wrist. âweâve got to move.â
you blink up at him, still half-lost in the daze of desire, your body protesting as he tugs you away from him. âtojiâŚâ you murmur, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as youâre pulled back to reality. the tension between you is still sizzling and stopping feels like torture.
âlater,â he growls, though thereâs a flicker of frustration in his eyes too. his hand tightens around yours, dragging you through the crowd, weaving between costumed partygoers, until youâre following the drug lord into the darkened hallway.
the sounds of the party fade behind you, replaced by the faint murmur of voices. toji pulls you close, pressing a finger to his lips as you both inch closer to the door. the drug lord is talking to someone inside, their voices low and serious. you strain to listen, trying to make out the conversation, but your mind is still clouded by the way toji's lips felt on your skin, almost kissing you.
a creak in the floor makes your heart skip a beat. the drug lordâs voice halts, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. panic surges through you, your pulse spiking as you realize youâre about to be caught.
but before you can react, tojiâs hand is on your face, rough yet urgent as he grabs your chin and turns your head toward him. without warning, he crashes his lips against yours in a desperate, searing kiss, swallowing your gasp of surprise. his lips are warm and soft, a stark contrast to the tension that crackles between you. the world blurs around you, the tension from before exploding as his mouth moves against yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless.
you can barely thinkâbarely process anything other than the feel of his lips, the way his hands grip you like he canât let go. his fingers cradle your face, thumb brushing your cheek, grounding you even as the kiss threatens to pull you under. the kiss is both a cover and a release, a way to escape the reality of the mission and the overwhelming need thatâs still coursing through your veins. each brush of his mouth against yours sending your senses in overdrive.
the door opens, and the drug lordâs gaze sweeps over you both. for a split second, his eyes linger, suspicion flickering in his expression, but toji doesnât stop. his body shields yours, pressing you against the wall as his lips move hungrily against yours, keeping up the actâand maybe indulging just a little in what heâs been holding back.
after what feels like an eternity, the drug lord turns away, satisfied that youâre just another pair of partygoers caught up in the chaos of the night. the door clicks shut behind him, and toji finally pulls back, both of you gasping for breath.
his forehead presses against yours, both of you panting, hearts racing. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of the kissâhanging between you.
âwell,â you finally murmur, your voice shaky but playful, âthat was one hell of a distraction.â
toji smirks, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where his kiss smeared your lipstick. âdonât get used to it,â he mutters, though the look in his eyes says otherwise.
just as you catch your breath, the door swings open again. tojiâs instinct kicks in, and he pulls you close once more, capturing your lips with his in another kiss. his hands weave through your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue pushing against yours, and in reflex, your body arches against his.
ânice costume, kitty,â the drug lordâs voice cuts through the air as he walks past, glancing at the two of you. âah, lovebirds, wrap it before you tap it,â he adds with a smirk before sauntering away. toji pulls back slightly, his grin still lingering on his lips, and you canât help but chuckle at the absurdity of it allâcaught mid-kiss while undercover.
your fingers instinctively brush over the scar on tojiâs lip but he halts your wrist with a firm grip, his eyes narrowing slightly. âwe should follow him,â he says, his voice strained. a flicker of irritation crosses his face, and you wonder if youâve crossed a line.
you trail behind the drug lord as he exits the club, your heart racing. he climbs into his sleek car, and just as he drives away, toji pulls you back, shielding you with his body. âthe team will follow him. missionâs over.â he says.
he steps away for a moment as he quickly relays the information on his radio, tension radiating from him as he waits for the valet.
you feel a chill in the air and your wrap your arms around yourself. toji returns, draping his jacket over your shoulders without a word. âiâll drive you back,â he says, and you nod gratefully.
the silence is heavy in the car as he drives. âiâm sorry,â you finally murmur.
âfor what?â he glances at you, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
âfor not keeping my hands to myself and touching your face.â you fidget, feeling the weight of your actions.
toji exhales slowly. âitâs fine.â
tojiâs hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, the muscles in his jaw flexing. the tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, the faint hum of the staticy radio doing nothing to ease it.
âiâm not pissed,â he repeats, his voice even, but you can tell heâs holding something back.
âreally?â you press, shifting in your seat to look at him. âthen why does it feel like youâre pissed?â
he finally exhales, the kind of breath that sounds like heâs been holding it in for far too long. âfine,â he mutters. âmaybe iâm pissed because i canât fuck you the way i want.â
the confession hangs in the air, heavy and raw. your breath catches in your throat, heart racing as your body heats up at the words. âhow... how do you want to fuck me?â
tojiâs lips twitch into a half-smirk, his eyes still fixed on the road. âweâre not doing this,â he murmurs, but the low rasp in his voice betrays him.
âwhy not?â you challenge again, leaning closer, your voice barely above a whisper. âwe both took that aphrodisiac⌠you want this just as much as i do.â
your hand drifts over to his thigh, inching higher toward his groin, and his breath hitches. he grabs your wrist before you can go any further, his grip tight but not painful. âdonât start something you canât finish, sweetheart.â
but the way his gaze darkens with lust tells you heâs more than ready to finish whatever youâre starting.
toji pulls up in front of your place, the car rumbling softly as it idles. the air between you is still charged, thick with the unspoken tension that's been hanging between you all night. you hesitate for a moment, biting your lip, before glancing at him.
"you want to come inside?" the words slip out before you can stop them, and you can feel your pulse quicken.
he turns to look at you, his gaze heavy-lidded and unreadable. there's a beat of silence, then he shuts off the engine. "are you sure?" his voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
you nod, swallowing hard as you open the car door and step out, feeling the cool night air on your skin. he follows you, every movement deliberate and controlled, as if he's holding back the flood of want simmering just beneath the surface.
inside, the air feels differentâwarmer, more intimate. you kick off your shoes, turning to face him, heart racing in your chest.
you turn to him, nerves fluttering as you ask, "want something to drink orâ"
before you can even finish, toji's lips crash against yours, cutting off your words. his hands slide over your waist, pulling you closer against him, the intensity of his kiss stealing your breath. the short dress youâre wearing bunching under his grip. thereâs a desperation in the way his lips move against yours, like he's making up for all the restraint he had to hold onto earlier. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the heat of his body searing into you as he presses you against the wall.
"just you," he growls against your lips, voice rough, as if heâs been holding it back for too long. "i only want you."
"then take me," you murmur, the words barely a whisper before heâs on his knees in front of you, so sudden it makes your breath hitch.
his hands slide up your stocking-clad legs, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thin fabric. âyou donât know what youâre asking for,â he mutters, but the way he looks up at you through his dark lashes nearly makes your knees buckle.
you would've been on the floor, legs in the air, if it werenât for his hands holding you steady, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. his palms glide higher, slipping beneath the hem of your dress.
âyou sure you want this?â he asks, his breath warm against your skin as his lips graze the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, and all you can do is nod, legs trembling from the way his fingers tighten around you like he knows heâs about to make you fall apart.
his lips glide over your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin beneath the sheer fabric of your stockings. he doesnât pull them off just yet; instead, he removes your heels, leaving your feet bare and vulnerable. taking the opportunity, you press against the tightness in his pants, and the deep groan that escapes him makes you chuckle sweetly.
that sound seems to ignite something in him, and he pushes your dress up higher, giving him an unobstructed view of your lower half. âyouâre asking for it,â he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he kisses over the black tights, pressing his lips firmly against you, making you feel every bit of his desire.
you can feel yourself getting wetter with each press of his lips. âtoji,â you breathe, your body instinctively arching towards him.
as your fingers reach for your stockings, eager to remove them, toji grabs your wrist, holding your hand firmly at your sides. ânot yet,â he murmurs. his lips resume their path along your thighs.
you squirm but he keeps you pinned, his hands anchoring your wrists to the wall. âlet me take my time,â he whispers, kissing softly over the fabric, each press of his lips sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
after a moment, he pulls away, standing tall and towering over you. he undoes the button of his pants, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. âon your knees, pretty girl,â he commands, his voice low and sultry.
your heart races at the drop in his voice, and you canât help but comply, sinking to your knees in front of him. âyouâve been teasing me all night,â he says, his tone low and gravelly. ânow itâs my turn.â he steps closer.
with one hand, he cups your chin, tilting your head back to meet his intense stare. the other hand rests on his waistband, fingers grazing the fabric teasingly. âyou know what i want, donât you?â
you squirm slightly, pressing your legs together for some friction as you breathe out a soft, âyes.â tojiâs smirk widens.
you take a moment to admire him, heart racing as you gaze at his cock, standing tall and proud. itâs a deep shade of crimson, flushed at the tip, glistening slightly with anticipation. the girth of him makes your mouth water, and you can't help but grow wetter at the sight, a rush of heat pooling in your core. the veins running along his shaft pop with every heartbeat, driving you wild.
your fingers wrap around him, feeling the warmth and weight of him in your hand. you start slow, stroking him, taking your time to learn every inch. leaning in, you press a teasing kiss to the tip, swirling your tongue around it, tasting his salty potent arousal.
toji's head falls back with a low groan, and you canât help but feel a thrill run through you. maybe itâs the aphrodisiacs working, but youâre feeling bold. with a steady breath, you take him deeper, feeling him press against the back of your throat. your nose brushes against the soft, trimmed tufts of hair on his pelvis, and you keep him in your mouth for a few moment, enjoying the warmth and weight of him.
he can feel the way your throat tightens around him, sending waves of pleasure through both of you. toji grips the wall in front of him, his breath hitching as he fights the urge to buck forward. âfuck,â he moans, his hand moving to cradle your face, holding you in place as he pulls out just enough to let you breathe.
âitâs okay,â you whisper, locking your eyes with his. âyou can fuck my throat.â a small smile plays on your lips as you watch toji's expression shift.
âyou sure?â he asks, his voice full of caution, searching yours for reassurance.
you nod, as you pull him closer. with that, he presses back against your lips, and you take him fully, feeling him slide across your tongue. you grip the back of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he begins to thrust gently, mindful of your limits. your throat tightens around him, and you can feel tears forming in your waterline as the pleasure builds, each push making your body feel like its on fire.
after a few moments, you pull back, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. he helps you stand, kissing you hard, tasting himself on your tongue. his hands move under your thighs, hoisting you up effortlessly as you both stumble backward, trying to find the way to your bedroom.
âright,â you mumble against his mouth, and he nods, tongues tangling as he blindly navigates, the need to feel your skin against his guiding him.
as toji stumbles into the hallway of your bedroom, he accidentally knocks down a few frames on the wall, and you canât help but chuckle against his lips. the sound breaks the tension, making him grin against your skin as he slips into the bedroom. he falls forward, both of you bouncing onto the bed.
his smile widens as he moves his lips to your jaw, nipping playfully before gripping your chin and tilting it up, exposing the soft skin beneath. with a teasing kiss, he leaves a mark that only the two of you will know about. he presses more kisses down your throat.
âas much as i like this outfit, kitty,â he whispers against your skin, âi think iâd like whatâs underneath even better.â
you bite your lip, glancing up at him with a smirk as you tug the straps over your shoulders. âsure you want to ditch the whole âbruce wayneâ persona so soon, toji?â you tease, your eyes sparkling with mischief.
he laughs, grabbing your legs and pulling you down the bed, his hands moving over your body tugging the dress along with your black stockings and pretty black lace arousal coated panties. âyou wanna be one of bruce wayneâs one-night stands, kitty?â
âbruce wayne and catwoman donât have one-night stands,â you say playfully, tilting your head at him. he raises an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his lips. âoh? what do they have then?â
âa complicated relationship,â you reply, returning his smile.
âwell then, letâs make this complicated,â he says, a wicked glint in his eyes as he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin.
before you can respond, his hands find their way back up your thighs, fingers slipping between your legs. he groans lowly, your arousal coating his fingers like he's dipping them in a jar of honey. âyouâre so wet, kitty,â he murmurs, pressing his fingers harder over your core, a teasing pressure that has you trembling.
your legs part on their own, a silent plea for more, and he gives it to you, slipping two fingers and sinking them deep into your warmth. your core eagerly takes him in, slick and pulsating around his fingers as they press in until his knuckles are snug against your clitoral hood.
he curls his fingers inside you, almost touching against that soft spot. âyou take me so well,â he groans, watching your body react to every curl, every thrust, a twisted grin tugging at his lips as your wetness coats his hand.
he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, and you canât help but whine at the sudden emptiness. âneed to feel this clenchin around my cock instead,â he murmurs, voice low and rough.
your breath hitches as he stands up, stripping off the rest of his clothes. he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a condom, and you raise an eyebrow, your voice laced with teasing. âcommunal dick?â
he lets out a mock gasp. ârefined dick, actually,â the corners of his mouth twitch upward, âonly the finest get the honor.â his grins grows as he steps between your legs again. âand tonight, it's all yours.â
toji tears the condom wrapper open, his eyes never leaving yours. âand just so you know,â he says, rolling it on, âmy dickâs very picky about who it gets hard for.â his voice is dripping with that familiar cockiness, making your pulse quicken.
he aligns himself with your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your soaked folds. âlucky me then,â you whisper, the words barely escaping before he pushes inside, filling you completely in one slow thrust.
toji groans as he sinks into you, feeling the way your walls grip him tightly around him. âfuck, you feel so good,â he mutters, his voice roughened. a moan slips out as he starts to move, slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he pulls out and thrusts back in.
âsuch a perfect fit,â he growls, gripping your hips, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper. each time he pushes inside, it feels like heâs molding your insides to the shape of him.
âharder,â you gasp, wrapping your legs around him, urging him on.
toji grins down at you, his eyes dark. âneedy little thing, arenât you?â he teases, but he doesnât make you wait, slamming into you with more force. your moans get louder, your body trembling as pleasure builds inside you, and he watches with smugly.
toji can feel the aphrodisiac kicking in, making everything feel more intense. your skinâs on fire, every touch sending you closer to your orgasm. âcan feel it working, huh?â he smirks, enjoying the way you squirm under him.
you nod, breathless, biting your lip as you arch your back, wanting more. every nerve in your body is lit up, and the way he moves inside you has you craving him even more.
tojiâs grip tightens on your hips, his thrusts becoming more intense, as if heâs riding the same wave of heightened arousal. âyouâre so fucking wet for me,â he growls huskily.
his hands find your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your stomach. you feel the cool sheets against your heated skin. he positions himself behind you, a wicked grin plastered across his face as he takes in the view of you sprawled out beneath him, the way your ass perks up invitingly, the soft flesh just begging to be gripped.
his hands move over your curves, fingers squeezing your ass as if to test the softness beneath his palms. he relishes the way your skin feels, warm and supple, as he kneads it gently. âso perfect,â he growls, unable to resist the urge to give you a playful smack, relishing the sound it makes and the way your body reacts.
you arch your back, pushing your ass further back against him, eager for more of his touch. the little whimper that escapes your lips makes tojiâs breath hitch. âmore,â you plead softly, and he canât resist the temptation. he delivers another sharp slap to your ass, the sound echoing in the air as a flush of heat spreads across your cheeks.
he leans forward, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, âyou just canât get enough, can you?â tojiâs hands glide back over your skin, rubbing over the reddened marks he left behind. he positions himself once more, his hardness pressing between your legs, tantalizingly close to where he was just moments ago.
when he finally pushes in, you glance back over your shoulder, a challenge dancing in your eyes. âi thought youâd be more rough,â you tease, and he chuckles, dropping his head into your back as he presses a kiss there, tugging your hair back gently, pulling you up against his chest. âyou make me wanna be soft, take my time,â he murmurs against your ear. his thrusts become hard yet slow, pressing right against that sweet spot deep inside you.
his groans slip into your ear, and you shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, savoring the sensation of him filling you completely.
punctuating his words with a thrust that sends you reeling forward. youâd fall face-first into the mattress if he didnât have his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you in place.
as he drives into you, he pushes you to lay flat on the bed, his weight pressing over you as he continues to move back and forth. you can feel a trickle of sweat run down your back, his pace unrelenting as he keeps you at the edge.
his hand slips to your front, fingers working over your clit. âi need you to cum for me,â he urges, and the intensity of his words sends a rush of warmth through you. your body responds eagerly, building to that peak heâs coaxing from you. with a particularly hard thrust, you cum around him, crying out his name.
toji pulls out, flipping you onto your back. you grip his shoulders, pulling him down to you as your mouths crash together in a messy kiss. lips sliding together as your tongues tangle, tasting each other with urgency.
you push him onto his back, taking the reins as you ride him. he chuckles softly, his back hitting the mattress. his hands grip your hips, guiding you as you bounce on him, the sensation driving him wild.
the sounds of your mouths meeting are loud and wet. your hands fist into his hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss with every desperate press of your lips. he groans against you, the vibrations making your pussy clench, and you canât help but kiss him harder, eager to feel every bit of him.
toji pulls back, his breath ragged. without breaking eye contact, he starts kissing his way down your body, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses from your lips to your neck, and further down.
as he makes his way to your stomach, he dips lower, inhaling your sweet scent as he reaches your core. he pauses for a moment, relishing the sight of your slick thighs glistening with remnants of your pleasure. he dives in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and a low groan escapes his lips as he savors the tangy sweetness of your cum.
âfuck, you taste so good,â he hums as he cleans your arousal with his tongue. he licks and sucks, the sound of his mouth working against you filling the room. his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as he buries himself deeper into your sweetness, not wanting to miss a single drop.
âyouâre a fucking masterpiece,â he breathes against your skin, pausing just long enough to give you a wicked grin before diving back in. each flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge. his dedication makes your head spin.
each flick of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge, the heat coiling tight in your belly. already sensitive from cumming once before, the familiar pleasure reaches a peak again. your body quivers in response, thighs trembling as you grip the sheets, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught of sensations.
âtoji,â you moan, breathless and desperate, your voice barely above a whisper. he responds with a low growl, his fingers tightening around your thighs as he feasts on you, drinking in every last drop.
that sweet tension snaps as you come undone, your body clenching around nothing, pleasure radiating outwards like ripples on water.
âthatâs it, baby,â he murmurs against your core, his voice thick with lust as he licks you through your high, coaxing out the last remnants of your pleasure. the vibrations of his voice only deepen your bliss, drawing another soft whimper from your lips.
he rises from his place between your thighs, his body looming over yours. without a word, he lines himself up, pressing the tip of his cock against your slick entrance.
âready for more?â he rasps.
you nod eagerly, and he pushes in, filling you completely. the stretch feels heavenly, igniting another wave of heat deep within you.
âthatâs it, take it,â he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drives into you relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your breathless moans and his low growls of satisfaction.
tojiâs pace quickens, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, and you can feel him chasing his own release. his breaths turn ragged, every grunt and groan resonating deep within you. âso close,â he hisses, sweat glistening on his skin as he leans down to bury his face in your neck.
he lets out a deep, guttural moan that reverberates through you. soon, he spills inside the condom, his hips stuttering against you as he groans your name. the sensation of him filling the condom mixed with the way his cock twitches against your g-spot sends you spiraling over the edge once more.
but neither of you can stop. there's this unspoken agreement to keep going, diving back into that intoxicating dance. your bodies move together, the bed creaking louder with each thrust, slamming against the wall in a frantic rhythm. every thrust, every moan fills the air, and you lose track of how many times you both cum, riding that blissful high again and again.
the room is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and as you finally collapse against each other, a soft laugh escapes your lips.
âthink we might need a break,â you say, breathless and a bit giddy.
toji chuckles, his fingers brushing over your skin, âyeah, maybe just a short one.â
likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated !
Š SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!
#â luna.writes#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk toji#toji x reader#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushigro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x reader smut#toji x y/n#toji x you#fushiguro toji smut#fushiguro toji x you#jjk x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk kinktober#kinktober#kinktober 2024#divider by cafekitsune#warning banner by cafekitsune#coworker!toji#detective toji
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Hiyaaaa can I request a stalker yan x enabling gn readerđŞźcould it be smut if possible
I went a little haywire with this one, I hope it meets your expectations dear~
(PLEASE BE EXTRA CAUTIOUS OF TAGS FOR THIS ONE!!!)
I'm still not too sure about how to feel about writing smut (I'm actually not a big fan of it) but as long as everyone enjoys it thank you ^^
-ËĘâĄÉËHBËĘâĄÉË
Stalker!Yan X Pushover!Reader (!!SMUT!!)
!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion. I do not support or encourage these destructive behaviors in real life.
CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, SEX, sloppy lewd writing, implied stalking, saliva, yandere behaviors, delusional thoughts, dub-con, obsessive behavior (LMK if I'm missing anything.)
!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!
(PLEASE BE EXTRA CAUTIOUS OF TAGS FOR THIS ONE!!!)
It all started with a simple act of helping him pick up the paperwork that you accidentally knocked out of his hands. No one had helped him before, much less make conversation with him due to how he looks and holds himself. Perpetual hunch, unkempt hair, deep dark eye bags and a slight stutter. This guy was a mess, but the company kept him because his work ethic is near perfection. Back to the papers you were helping him pick up, you offered to carry half with him to where he needed to go and he offered to treat you to lunch, âi-itâs the least I can do for helping me,â he reasons. You couldnât turn down, âwell, if youâre sure, I am getting pretty hungry since itâs lunch time already,â you reason.
Though, you didnât expect him to get so chatty during lunch. It felt like he was asking your ear off with questions. âHowâs work been for you?â âHow is your family?â âDo you have any hobbies?â âFavorite shows? Movies?â Admittedly, you couldnât wait for lunch to be over but even when you wanted to say goodbye, to get back to work, he asks for your phone number. Wanting to just go already you hurriedly gave it to him.
Little did you know that he would be texting you everyday, perhaps even every hour. Not wanting to be rude you responded when you could. Soon you were seeing him outside of work, not willingly but whenever you would be trying to run errands or even just out and about. Grocery shopping? He suddenly appeared and offered to push your cart and even load your bags into your car. At the mall? He just so happened to be needing to get a birthday gift for a family member so why donât he shop around with you, even though when you were leaving he walked you to your car with his hands empty. Just taking a walk in the park? What a coincidence, he loves this park! A walk is better with someone else right? You didnât bring up how weirdly coincidental it was that he happened to be wherever you were, you didnât want to deal with confrontation. Which led you to the state of you and his relationship as it is these days.
He started hanging out with you in your apartment, he had one day asked if he could come over to your place to hang out for the weekend. âWe could hang out and watch a movie, Iâll even make dinner for us. Unless you want to come over to my place?â You weakly try to give the excuse that your apartment is a mess but he even offers to clean it and you didnât really want to go over to his place so you agreed to hang out with him at yours.
True to his word, he cleans your apartment but it wasnât even that dirty in the first place since it was just an excuse. He goes on to make dinner, it was exactly to your taste like he knew and even cleans up afterward. When it came to the movie it was whatever looked good on the streaming service, youâve been wanting to watch a certain movie that was recently released so he agreed to it too. Not too long into the movie you notice him moving closer to you, your heart rate raises with each proceeding inch until finally your shoulders are touching. Even if you wanted to scoot away, you were already on the edge of your couch. In a fluid motion he rests his arm on your shoulders causing you to look at him. He looks you in the eyes and leans in for a kiss. You instinctively used your hands to stop him from leaning closer and he looked at you with wide eyes.
âDo you not want this?â He asks with a bit of hurt in his voice. Flustered, you replied, âI just think itâs too soon for this.â He smiles and takes your hands in his, âitâs okay, weâre just having a little fun after all. No strings attached.â Something about the last statement didnât feel right but you donât say anything so he takes it as you agreeing with him and leans in for a kiss again. You close your eyes as your lips connect and you can feel him sigh as he continuously pecks kisses on your lips. Soon after you feel something wet probing at your lips and it surprises you enough to open them. His tongue invades your mouth and you feel his grasp on your body tighten as he explores your mouth with his tongue.
Breaking from the kiss only for air, it doesnât stop him from tasting you like he was a thirsty man and you were an oasis in the desert. His tongue rolls over your cheeks and jawline working down to your neck leaving you covered in saliva. He sucks and licks the sensitive skin of your jugular making heat form in your lower regions. He nudges to take off your top and you allow him a full view of your chest. He wastes no time and continues to suck on your collarbone area, the whole thing feels weird and warm and slimy but you didnât want to stop him since you believe it was too late for that. Suddenly you feel your nipples get pinched and you jerk backwards. âYouâre so cute, and so sensitive just for me,â he coos. He continues to suck and play with your nipples until your brain seems to go fuzzy from the pleasure and all thatâs escaping your lips are sounds of moans, whines and whimpers. He chuckles, âyouâve been grinding against me for a while, do you want it?â Did you? You didnât even notice until he said so. âLetâs go ahead and get these off okay?â He nudges at your pants now and he watches as you slowly take them off.
He gulps at your completely nude form now, âyouâre everything I dreamed off and more.â You flushed at his words. Before you could say anything he went down on you causing you to yelp. He licked and sucked and slurped like his life depended on it. He almost got you to cum but stopped much to your dismay. âNo need to pout darling, weâll be coming undone together.â It was his turn to undress, his member stood proudly over your entrance. Something in you knew deep down that if you let him go the whole way that there would be no turning back even if he said no strings attached, but another part of you just doesnât care. He turns you around and slowly enters you from behind and you gasp as you grip your sofa cushions from the intrusion. It doesnât take long for the speed to pick up and heâs pounding you into your sofa making an absolute mess of you. Soon the both of you climax and heâs covering your back with his seed.
Youâre too exhausted to move but thatâs okay! He already knows where you keep your towels so he goes and gets some to clean you up. After doing so, he guides your arm over his shoulder and leads you to your bedroom. You fall asleep, too tired to stay awake. âYouâre more ethereal in person when youâre sleeping than a screen could ever capture,â he kisses your forehead before drifting off to sleep himself, with you finally in his grasp.
Part 2
#lovesick#yandere#yandere male#obsessive yandere#obsessive love#obsession#male yandere#male yandere x reader#gender neautral reader#gn reader#yandere writing#tw yandere#yandere blog#yandere boy#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#x y/n#y/n#yandere fanfiction#yandere oc x reader#yandere oc x you#yandere x darling#yanderecore#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral reader#smut#yandere smut#stalker yandere#yandere coworker
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barista coworker!yuji drabble
barista coworker!yuji who instantly makes you feel welcomed when you first start. he hands you a brand new apron and nametag he already scribbled your name on - blushing when he realizes you can't read his handwriting. (he can't quite understand why, but he suddenly feels really nervous).
barista coworker!yuji who is also your trainer. he is so patient and always makes sure to cheer when you make a drink right. while teaching you how to make the whipped cream, he accidentally ends up exploding one of the canisters after putting the lid on wrong; the sweet mixture of vanilla and heavy cream ending up all over the both of you, causing him to profusely apologize. he hands you a rag to clean off your now dirty apron and you can't stop giggling at what happened. yuji is so thankful you find it funny, laughing along with you while cleaning himself off. after the counters and walls are clean, he goes back to showing you how to date them. you notice while he's talking that he still has a white dot of cream on his face - so you pause his explanation by taking your thumb and wiping the sticky liquid off his cheek. his eyes go wide from the touch of your hand on his face. "sorry! you still had some on your face from earlier," you tell him and he stutters out a thank you.
barista coworker!yuji who easily becomes your favorite person to work with. as time passes yuji and you are each other's favorite coworkers. you both get visibly giddy upon seeing each other's names on the schedule for the day - often goofing off in the back or ignoring customers while talking to each other. some days you bring in homemade treats for yuji to take home and he ends up sacrificing his entire lunch break to pick up your favorite meal for your break as a thank you.
barista coworker!yuji who is always smiling and laughing. you don't think its possible for him to be in a bad mood - even during the most brutal rushes. some days his never-ending optimism still isn't enough to keep your anxiety at bay and so as your shift lead, yuji will send you to the back to calm down when he notices that you're overwhelmed. it doesn't matter if he has to do two positions at once, he hates seeing the stress of the job get to you.
barista coworker!yuji that stands up for you when customers are rude. he remains calm but is firm in his stance that no one is allowed to talk to the barista's that way. (especially his favorite barista - but no one else needs to know that part). yuji knows you well enough at this point to understand how sensitive you are, catching your eyes in his and patting your hand while telling you to ignore people like that. "if you want off of the window, please let me know," he tell you. he just wants you to be comfortable.
barista coworker!yuji who tries not to make it obvious how much he favors you. he can't help it nor can he help the giddy feeling he gets inside every time he sees your face.
barista coworker!yuji who makes work fun, even on the worst of days. you didn't think it was possible to enjoy going to work until you met him.
...been having quite a few rough shifts at work so i wrote this to cope lol.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk yuji#yuji x you#yuji x y/n#yuji x reader#yuji itadori#jjk itadori#jujutsu itadori#itadori yuji#itadori x reader#jjk yuuji#yuuji itadori#itadori yuuji#coworker yuji#coworker yuji itadori#barista yuji#barista yuji itadori#barista au#jjk barista au#yuji itadori barista#jjk fluff#yuji fluff#yuji itadori fluff#itadori fluff#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori yuuji x you#yuji itadori x reader
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thinking about coworker!art donaldson
just needed to write about the very specific experience of zoom tension when you see someone hot and just wanna look at them. will probably write more at some point. i have a work party scenario in my head xoxo
you and art had been assigned to work on the same project. it was a "cross-functional effort!â, a "good opportunity for visibility!â for you both. awesome.
the first time he sees you, it's in a zoom meeting.
the little box with your name on his screen lights up as you come off mute and introduce yourself to the rest of the project team. your syrupy voice fills his ears and pulls him out of whatever else he was thinking about. he takes a hasty, subconscious glance at who was speaking, observing your demeanor as you give the rehearsed intro youâve given a million other times on calls like this.Â
but there was something about you. he saw right through your too-bright smile, the seemingly starched collar of the shirt you were wearing. you were drinking the corporate kool-aid, just like he was - whatever it took to get to 5pm and the weekend. you were playing the game, and playing it well.
art found himself unable to tear his gaze from you, eyes glued to the little rectangle containing your pretty face as it remained in the top left corner of the dock of his laptop screen, smaller now to his dismay, as other team members started coming off mute to introduce themselves.
he licked his lips subconsciously, drinking in every little reaction - how you subtly rolled your eyes when that prick ryan from marketing was being a kiss-ass or the way you would worry your lower lip between your teeth as you thought about something. how sometimes you'd look right into the camera and it felt like you were looking at him. he wished you were.
art shamelessly clicks the pin next to your little rectangle, his breath catching slightly as you fill up his screen. the heat rises in his cheeks as he sees you smiling at something someone said, wondering what it'd be like to just-
"art? you want to come off mute and introduce yourself?" that prick ryan from marketing says.
art flushes as you give him the tiniest hint of an amused smirk. he can see it perfectly with your face blown up on his screen.
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#challengers drabble#coworker!art#coworker au#save me from the sunday scaries pls#slush writes
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Even if TWSA had finished without the world ending, KDJ would have been okay
#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint#ysa#kdj#orv meta#Mei talks#bangs head on floor repeatedly. sheâll never understand but she takes his hand anyway. ysa the friend of all time#feeling normal about her#sheâs not hsy or yjh#thereâs no cosmic fate drawing them together#they wonât meet in every universe#they just happened to do their job interview on the same day. happened to be coworkers#and what a miraculous thing that is#to have a friend
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cw; suggestive / softcore smut, alcohol consumption (possibly dubcon), inappropriate workplace relationships, cisfem!reader
nanami kento is too old for fucking.
he tells you this at 1 am â in not quite as many words â a few too many somaeks in, lethargic and slow from the length of the workday. thereâs enough alcohol in his system to have him silk-loose and soft, cursing more freely and allowing vulgarity (or what he considers vulgarity) to grace his ever-so-polite tongue.
youâve never heard him like this before; youâve never heard your straight laced coworker utter anything more than a family-friendly expletive (drat being a recurring character â old-fashioned, but endearing). but his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and his hair is mussed, and the blush of intoxication is rising to his sharp cheekbones â and yes, he curses. it almost sounds elegant when he does it. rolling over his tongue in his poorly-lit living room, where heâd only bothered to turn one lamp on; gathering with his voice like balls of cotton wool deep in his chest.
you yourself have had one too many drinks â that is why you find warmth pooling in your stomach at the sound of his confession, at the sight of his face illuminated in honey-soft light. after all, youâd never let the barrier of strained, charged professionalism drop otherwise. youâd never accept kentoâs sudden invite for a nightcap after a night already filled with drinking, surrounded by tipsy coworkers at a local izakaya; youâd never let him help you slip your heels off, deft fingers unbuckling the strap from your ankle and lingering just long enough for you to notice. youâd surely never sit so close to him on his fancy 1.5 million yen couch â and youâd never, ever entertain the comment heâd made, one that he never intended for you to hear in the first place.
âwhat was that?â you say, coy, as if the comment hadnât twisted something horrid in your gut. (as if you werenât imagining him flushed from top to bottom, panting against your neck. itâs the alcohol, youâre sure of it.) âyouâre too old for all that crazy stuff? like what?â
his adamâs apple bobs. heâs sitting slumped low next to you, his head hanging backwards against the back of the couch and his gaze somewhere on the high ceilings above your head, like he canât face you. pretty. handsome. âsorry. i was just thinking out loud.â
âi know.â you take a sip of your own somaek. âbut weâre both adults here, right? i mean, i agree. iâm not as flexible as i was at 20.â
his laugh is more of a surprised huff â like heâs just as surprised as you are that your conversation has steered into such uncharted territory. perhaps heâs surprised that heâs even responding to it â but he does, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. his thigh presses against yours through those infernal khaki slacks. âmm. me neither.â
you shoot him a cheeky grin. âyou were getting folded like a pretzel, i presume?â
another laugh, tinged with incredulity this time. âmm. something like that.â
you both sit in silence for a moment. his apartment really is lovely â the kind of apartment you only get when youâre as diligent as nanami, putting aside money for years and steadily working his way up the hierarchal corporate ladder. high ceilings and a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows opposite his couch; a kitchen with a granite island; fancy furniture straight from an interior designerâs wet dream. itâs all neutral greys and browns, cozy and elegant and refined, and suddenly you wonder what his bedroom looks like. you take another sip of your drink.
âgetting olderâs not all that bad,â you say, almost offhandedly, speaking more to the tokyo skyline than your drinking companion. (you bet he has a double-king with fancy 500-count cotton bedsheets. probably some trinkets. man stuff like shavers and cuff links and aftershave.) âi like it slow anyways.â
a strange, choked sound leaves your drinking partner, and your eyes shoot over to him. youâre suddenly mortified at your careless blabbering â but drunk enough for your embarrassment to be eclipsed by a prideful ignorance. âhuh? nanami-san, are you okay?â
he stares up at the ceiling once more. his throat bobs again. a slight blush has dusted the tops of his ears â but before you can linger in it, his eyes suddenly flicker to meet yours. youâre almost taken aback by it â the intensity with which his brown eyes suddenly bore into you, the sullenness and modesty from before pushed aside for something newer. something rawer. ââŚforgive me for my forwardnessââ
âyouâre forgiven.â
ââbut, iâŚâ
you swallow. he still hasnât looked away. your breathing has stilted, stagnant and pressing, in your lungs. you fight the urge to press against the point where his thigh meets your own, already on the verge of squirming under his heady stare. âbutâŚ?â
straight-laced nanami kento breathes deeply, his chest moving with the force of it, and as his breath shudders out of him, he bites out: âi really want you, right now.â
your heartbeat rushes in your ears.
âbut weâre coworkers,â kento continues, like heâs been sitting on it for a while â like heâs trying to convince himself as much as you. his hand â the one not clutching his glass, the one laying on top of his thigh, flexes. âitâs unprofessional â completely inappropriate. i should be written up for simply confessing this to you.â
âbut weââ you swallow around a dry throat â all moisture in your body seemingly gathering between your legs, hot and thrumming and nowhere to goâ âweâre not working right now.â
a beat of silence.
kento finally looks away from you, and you can breathe again. you grapple with the sudden influx of air in your lungs, the anxiety of misstepping broiling in the pit of your stomach. while you internally struggle with yourself, nanami sets his somaek on the coffee table, before slumping back again.
âi suppose weâre not.â
unsurprisingly, kento does not make the first move. he just sits there, one arm behind his head and the other laying limp at his side, his chin tilted towards the sky and his eyes shut as if to sleep. itâs not in a way that might be construed as arrogance â this isnât your high school boyfriend sitting back and waiting for you to pull down his pants â itâs pure and utter indulgence. climb over him if you want. kiss him when you want. cross the imaginary line drawn in the sand when it suits you â regardless, he wonât ever touch unless you explicitly make it clear that you want him to. desire curdles in your stomach, almost painful, and it's all you can do to scrabble onto your knees beside him.
before your anxiety takes control of your faculties â before you allow your cowardice to seize your limbs â you swing a knee to the other side of his hips. you're straddling him, close enough that you're sure you're sharing the same air, and â fuck, he's much bigger than you'd anticipated. he doesn't have the wiry, lean stature of the average salaryman â somehow, between sleeping overnight in the office and drinking at izakayas almost nightly, kento's frame is sturdy and large, muscular. like he works out often. you don't know how he does it with the long hours he puts in, but your thighs almost ache with the stretch of his hips between them â and pressed right against you, right where you're sensitive and aching and perhaps a little too needy, is his clothed cock. the slacks do little to camouflage the shape or hardness of it â in fact, you swear you feel it twitch when you seat yourself against it.
kento's eyes flutter open. his cheekbones are slowly reddening, his glasses hooked low on his nose bridge. his arms twitch where they lay, like he was about to move to hold you and thought better of it. you wish he didn't think better of it. "hi."
you give a little smile, hopefully looking less like you're brimming with excitable energy than you actually are. his lips really are quite close to yours. if you just leaned forward... "hi."
they're not chapped, his lips, but not shining with lip balm. they're soft looking and slightly pink, naturally down-turned in a way that makes him seem grumpy most of the time. but they're quirked up in a little smile, now, and all you can think about is how they might feel against yours. your lip gloss has long since rubbed off, between drinking and eating and drinking again, but would the remnants of glitter smear against his lips? would he come away tasting cherries?
kento clears his throat.
"i have to be honest with you," he says. he adjusts his glasses smartly, the way he does at the office, the way that has all the your female coworkers swooning. "i'm⌠passed the age of doing things no strings attached â that is to say, ifââ
heart suddenly swooping in your chest â delighted at being indulged, of having your affections returned â and brain whizzing along like a child who's had too much sugar, you connect your lips with little fanfare. you're perhaps too enthusiastic â prodding his mouth with your tongue as soon as he'll let you, leaning forward until your chests press together and you can almost feel his heart beating through his skin. his lips are soft, after all. soft but weathered, moving so pleasantly against yours â and then his hands squeeze at the plushness of your hips, his teeth take your bottom lip between them, andâ
you're panting when you pull away. panting and flushed and hot all over, barely an inch between you for fear of distance. youâre hot where youâre connected, so filled with nervous, excitable energy you think you might wither; nanamiâs grasp on you, steel-tight and warm, does little to help. itâs all you can do to give yourself a second to recuperate, chest heaving â and nanami seems just as bad off. the usually well-kept salaryman looks a mess underneath you, with his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded, and his breathing uneven â even then, though, his eyes are far too intense for you to calm any.
âto be honest,â you say, "iâm â iâm a little too old for that, too, kento."
another small smile. the gap between you is filled once more. you both call in sick that morning.
#coworker nanami u will always be famous#age appropriate couples u will always be famous#i do love an age gap at times i must admit#nanami x reader#kento x reader#jjk x reader#anime x reader#nanami smut#kento smut#jjk smut#anime smut#nanami x you#kento x you#anime x you#jjk x you
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yan coworker pt. 3 âĄ
yandere coworker who finds himself drawn to stalking you after work, just out of pure habit
yandere coworker who makes an embarrassment out of himself when he trips while following you, alerting you of his presence
yandere coworker who has no problem coming up with a lie, explaining that he was on the way to eat at the restaurant conveniently behind you
yandere coworker who insists you join him in his meal- heâll pay, no worries!
yan coworker who when you finally agree (isnât his darling just so sweet?) ushers you inside of the restaurant, finding a secluded booth for the two of you to eat at
yan coworker who carefully note your tastes and preferences in food, mentally making notes of what meals could best win your heart
yan coworker who pulls out all the cards- making you laugh at his quips, and telling stories that were bound to make you fall for him
yan coworker who watches intently as you eat, stunned again at your perfection, wishing with every bite it was him feeding you and not yourself
yan coworker who has to dig his fingernails into his palms to calm himself down when you ask for some of his drink- the indirect kiss through the straw left his heart beating faster than it had ever his whole life
yan coworker who at the end of the meal, sneaks your used napkins and precious straw into his briefcase to set on his shrine later
yan coworker who leaves a generous tip, hoping you would see how reliable he was if you only let him take care of you
yan coworker who insists he walks you home after dinner, and though you politely refuse he reminds you of the dangers- what if some creep or stalker caught you alone?
yandere coworker who begrudgingly leaves you home, worried heâd pushed himself onto you too much and youâd get the wrong idea- the time isnât right quite yet
yandere coworker who instead of going straight home circles back to the restaurant, waiting outside for the man he caught ogling at you earlier to finish his meal
yandere coworker who has no concerns how dirty his work clothes get- a little blood and dirt could be washed away, this jerk, however, needed to be taken care of
yandere coworker who canât help but hum a happy tune on his way back home- who knew today would be so eventful? with his briefcase by his side, his knuckles sporting new bruises, and your smile fresh on his mind, he couldnât help but feel somewhat accomplished
all works belong to and written by @agentsinopia
pt. 4 , Q&A Event
#like if you would let yan coworker buy u dinner#yandere#yandere x reader#male yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere imagines#yandere oc#soft yandere#yandere bf#yandere x darling#yandere boyfriend#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yan boy#yancore#yanblr#actually yandere#obsessive yandere#yandere scenarios#yanderecore#yandere content#yandere headcanons#agent.s.works
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The Shape of Family â§âËâŕź
As a single dad, Steveâs world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practicesâand he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / part one masterlist
part two - at the rec center's fall festival, you and steve finally make plans to hang out 11k
a/n - how did this end up twice as long as the first chapter this was supposed to be a short one!! general warnings/tags here
ââ .âŚ
Utahâs pretty this time of year. Fall is in full swing. The maple and cottonwood mellow into rich shades of orange, there is a constant crush of leaves underfoot, and the crisp scent of pine needles mingle with the breeze. Your neighbors go all out to decorate. Pumpkins are for sale on every corner and the apple orchards buzz with families for the harvest. This kind of weather has every brush of sunlight feeling like a hug you didnât know you needed.Â
The rec center hosts an annual fall festival, bringing hayrides, corn mazes, and costume contests. And though you wouldnât normally volunteer on a Sunday, Steveâs hard to say no to. Itâs not like he begged you or anything, a half-shrug and simple âIf you want toâ was enough convincing.Â
Youâd volunteer with or without Steve. You have the time and the goodwill and thus itâs a cork on the end of your monotonous work-week. But thereâs no denying that Steve makes it a hell of a lot more enjoyable. Heâs the sunrise after a long night, guiding you into the days ahead. And yeah, maybe youâre romanticizing too much. Too caught up in the way his tongue sticks out when heâs concentrating or how he mumbles to himself when he forgets youâre near. But working with him is delightful, nonetheless.Â
You and Steve are friends now. Well, work friends. Youâve never actually hung out outside of the rec center but there isnât a Friday that one of you doesnât mention it while you eat lunch in his office. Youâve learned trivial little things about him, like his favorite brand of pen, the store he buys his groceries from, and how he likes his coffeeâ hot enough to burn, with as much sugar as he can get away with without attracting strange looks. You ask about Penelope often and heâs very open; eager to rant and rave about the latest details of their lives. She visits every now and then, usually too sick or naughty to be at school. So youâve come to know her just as much. That she loves Barbies and Salt-N-Pepa and insects but not the furry ones.Â
Being in each otherâs lives is routine at this pointâ parking beside his car, leaving sticky notes on his desk, setting your bag in his office. It would be crazy to say you love him, you donât, obviously, but you feel like you could. And you know youâd be devastated if he left the center. Your shift assignments are arranged so they almost always thread with his.
Heâs always hated asking for help, but then you came, puttering into his office with a lovely smile and open arms and suddenly itâs not so bad. Heâll ask for your assistance on more projects than not: your advice, your creative eye, your hands to hang something that he most certainly could do alone.Â
Like now, you trail only a few paces behind Steve, cradling a wicker basket full of decorations. He billows a tablecloth over the nearest picnic table, considering your dispute over the best holiday.Â
âI dunno, Iâm more of a Christmas guy,â Steve shrugs, smoothing out a ripple in the fabric. âThe music is just inarguably better. You get to open presents and eat delicious food. Not really a contest in my book.âÂ
You hum, centering a plastic pumpkin.Â
âPenelope is like the queen of Halloween, though.â The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. âThis morning, she told me she wished she was born on Halloween so she could go trick-or-treating on her birthday.âÂ
You wear a similar expression, gaze flicking over to Penelope. Sheâs not far, crouched in a strip of dirt, parting a pile of leaves to search for ladybugs and other creatures. âI bet sheâs excited for all that candy.âÂ
âThatâs all sheâd eat if I let her. Iâve already scheduled a dentist appointment for her in Novemberâ But, Iâm just as bad, she gets her sweet tooth from me,â he admits.Â
âFigured. The amount of Reese's wrappers I find in your trash.âÂ
He squeezes your shoulder playfully, not hard enough that you should need to squirm away but you do. âWhatever. Why are you going through my trash anyway, weirdo.âÂ
You click your tongue, âI wasnât going through your trash! They are on the top where anyone could see.âÂ
âMhmm, whatever you say⌠dumpster diver.âÂ
Joan, the youth counselor, whisks over to interrupt with arms full of mason jars before you can retort. Steve smothers his smirk with an answer to her question. Your tongue prods the inside of your cheek to prevent your own.Â
Itâs like this with Steve, now. Teasing and taunting each other like schoolchildren. A game of tug-of-war, where every knowing glance and light-hearted jab pulls the rope just a little tighter between you. Itâs as thrilling as it is nerve-wracking.Â
Itâs not much later when guests filter into the festival. The earliest glow of sunset mists the courtyard in gold. Thereâs cider stations and pumpkin carving and a whole bunch of apple bobbers fighting to win a pumpkin pie. Monster Mash bleeds from several speakers lining the trail to the tented area you find yourself in. People dance and laugh and drink. Itâs a very successful event for the rec center.Â
Steve plops down on the bench across from you, Penelope at his hip. A silent, self-invitation he knows you wonât declineâ you enjoy their company more than people-watching. He seems to find you no matter which way you drift, even through a sea of townsfolk.Â
A big scoop of chili is spooned from his paper bowl into a second. âBlow on it,â Steve reminds, planting it in front of Penelope.Â
She does blow on it, a spray of more spit than air that merits her a shoulder nudge to knock it off.Â
Penelope simpers over her steaming food as Steve offers you an apologetic look. Last you saw her, she was waving her way up the stairs to the costume contest. Sheâs since been bundled upâ a tiara traded for a knit beanie and the gown from her dress-up bin crammed underneath a thick sweater and spilling out the hem.Â
The string lights bathe their faces in a white glow. It highlights the beauty mark on the slope of Penelopeâs cheek, like a half of Steveâs pair in the same spot. Itâs not often you get to just enjoy their company. No scrambling about deadlines or standards. Itâs a calm you could get used to. But Steveâs always ten steps ahead, already plotting which crew needs the most tending to when heâs finished eating. Heâs selfless like that. Your feet ache from running around, but Steveâs probably worse.Â
âPenelope, is that what youâre wearing on Halloween?â You ask.
Her chin presses into the neckline of her sweater. âNo,â she recalls, mouth full of sauce. âIâm being Dorothy.âÂ
Steve swipes a napkin across her lips before anything drips.Â
âFrom The Wizard of Oz?âÂ
âMhmm,â she grins, popping the spoon out of her mouth.Â
âVery cool. Did you get your costume yet?âÂ
She nods, glancing at Steve, âDaddy made it.âÂ
Steveâs in his own little world, slurping his belly full of warm food and basking in the second of peace heâs been given. But he blinks back into reality at your questioning stare, leaning in to hear you over the boisterous laughs of nearby people.Â
You try to reel in your surprise, soften your features. âYou made her costume?â
âOh,â he waves a dismissive hand, âI just sewed a shirt to a dress. Nothing fancy.âÂ
âStillâ thatâs really cool, Steve.âÂ
He stirs his food, voice torn with guilt. âI dunno. Itâs cheap.âÂ
âCostumes are better homemade. The ones in the stores are tacky. I bet it looks amazing.âÂ
Fragments of a smile find his lips, more a peace offering than a true one.Â
âI painted my shoes red and I put so much glitter on them so they sparkle,â Penelope adds cheerfully. Â
âYou did?âÂ
She nods, shining with pride.Â
âItâs been two weeks and Iâm still finding glitter everywhere,â Steve comments, more amused than he lets on. He canât be that mad when theyâre little reminders of his favorite person in the world.Â
âAre you dressing up?â You ask him.Â
He huffs, side-eyeing Penelope. âYes.âÂ
A glint forms in her eyes, a sly little smirk beneath. âDaddy is going to be the lion because heâs hairy.â
You laugh and Penelope joins you because Steve has a funny pouty face.Â
He rolls his eyes. âTell âem whoâs your Toto?âÂ
âCinderella!â
âNo way!â You match her level of excitement. âDoes she have a costume?âÂ
âNo, but I have a basket for her to sit in.âÂ
You coo, âI bet Cinderella will love that.âÂ
Steve snorts because he knows you know Cinderella will in fact not love that.Â
Cinderella is supposedly the grumpiest animal heâs ever met. She was a quick, unfortunately painful, lesson on boundaries for Penelopeâ not to pet certain areas or animals as a whole. Steve described her as an old, scraggly thing with a temper flaring unpredictably from one moment to the next. He wasnât a cat person to begin with, growing up in a house with no animals probably started his revulsion to having fur on his clothes; but at two and a half, Penelope begged to feed the stray on their porch and she just kept coming back.Â
Steve wanted a dog when he moved out, if anything at all; but in four years heâs learned more about sacrifice than any speech his parents tried to drill into his head. And Cinderella is practically Penelopeâs best friend now. She sets aside birthday money for new cat toysâ the crinkly ones are her favoriteâ and sneaks the cat through her bedroom window from time to time. She even cradles her like a baby, not without protest and the occasional scratch, of course, but Penelope knows the risk.Â
âI told her Cinderella probably wonât want to come trick or treating but she can still take a picture with her at home.âÂ
âI told you she will want to go because thereâs candy.âÂ
âYes, but I told you cats canât have candy,â Steve jabs her side lightly.Â
Penelope only pouts. âThatâs sad. I think she would like candy.âÂ
âIt is,â he agrees, slotting a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. âBut it makes them sick, remember? So we canât share with Cinderella.âÂ
Her cheek melds with his sleeve, begrudgingly agreeing with a sigh. âCan I get my face painted?âÂ
Steve traces her line of sight to the ring of kids swarming the face painter. Itâs not far. He can see well enough to recognize most of the children. Many are younger than Penelope too.Â
But Steve hesitates, âCan you wait until Iâm done eating? Iâll go with you.â
âDaddy,â she whines, pinching his arm hair. âYou take forever.â
Penelopeâs got magical little eyes. You donât know how Steve ever says no.Â
âI can take her,â you offer, stacking trash on your plate. âIâm done anyway.âÂ
âNo, itâs okay.â He deflates with a sigh, curling into his ribs so he can see her face. âYou can go by yourselfââ
Her frown washes away just as fast as she peels herself off of his arm.Â
âBut! You have to come straight back when youâre done and you have to stay where I can see you. âKay?âÂ
ââKay!â She beams, nearly tripping on her dress as she swings her legs over the bench and breaks into a run.Â
Steve canât hide the wobble in his smile as hard as he tries to be strong. Most of the hardships heâs faced as a parent are foreign to you, but clearly, this isnât easy for him.Â
âSheâll be fine,â you reassure with a ginger squeeze to his wrist. âWe arenât far if she needs something.âÂ
He nods, still locked in on Penelope. âI know, I know. Iâm trying really hard not to be a helicopter parent as she gets older. It sucks though, feeling like she doesnât need me anymore.âÂ
âSteve,â you deadpan, prying his attention back. âThatâs⌠silly. Youâre her dad, of course she still needs you. Maybe not all the time or as much but sheâll always need you.âÂ
âI dunno. I feel like she grows an inch every time I turn around. I never thought Iâd say this, but I actually miss when she was in diapers. Sheâs cute now, but God was she cute then.â He chuckles to himself, eyes swinging from Penelope to you and then back.Â
âI believe it,â you grin, admiring his girl. Her cheeks are red from the cold, like two tomatoes framing her lips. She might like to wear your jacket, you consider, but sheâs so small, perhaps sheâll overheat from too many layers.
Penelope scrambles into the chair when itâs her turn, talking a mile a minute to the face painter. A funny wave of emotion roves over you. Thereâs affection and joy and and then something heavier and harder to describe.Â
âIâll have to show you her baby pictures sometime.â You hear the parting of a true smile. âThereâs this oneâ it was her first birthdayâ I gave her a whole cake and she just demolished it. Had it in her hair and her eyelashes and in between her toes. She was so damn happy.âÂ
You exhale a happy hum, turning back to Steve. Heâs propped on his elbows now, close enough to discern each eyelash from the next. It doesnât startle you as much as it just scrapes the words right off your tongue.Â
Heâs reading you, churning, and chasing the right words all in between the blink of an eye. âWe should hang out, you know? Like actuallyâ We always talk about it butâŚâ He shakes his head, trailing off.Â
Heâd let the words be carried with the wind if you wanted. Itâs hard to imagine youâd say no, but people have surprised him in worse ways. Just when he thinks he knows someone, truly knows them, they cut him off like heâs no more than a dying branch. The ghosts of past someones and somethings still haunt him. It makes being so forward with you all the more difficult.Â
You wear a whimsical sort of grin that you hide behind the brush of your hand, fighting your own flood of emotions. âYeahâ I mean, yeah. When?âÂ
Excitement flares across his features. âWhat are you doing on Halloween? You could come trick-or-treating with us?â
âProbably just home handing out candyâ but Steve, I donât want to intrude on Halloween. It sounds really special to Penelope.â
âYou wouldnât! No way, Penelope would be thrilled if you came. She talks about you a lot, you know?âÂ
âNo she doesnât,â you grin madly into your palm, peering over to her. Her face is dressed in a bright shade of orange now. With her pudgy cheeks, she reminds you of a little pumpkin.Â
âShe does! Swear itâ on my life.â Heâs not lying. He canât hold your eyes when he lies, even about silly things.Â
You huff, feeling foolishly giddy. âI donât have time to get a costume, Steve.âÂ
âNonsense. We can find you one. Iâll make it if I have to. The Tin Man and The Scarecrow are still up for grabs.âÂ
You swallow, washing the sudden dryness from your throat. Why does Steve have to be so damn cute and sweet all at once? âI dunno. Would it be fine if I didnât dress up?âÂ
He chuckles dryly. âPenelope wonât have that, I can tell you that much. Plus if Iâm going to be tortured into some itchy lion onesie I expect youâll do the same.â Heâs teasing, which is typical for you both, but itâs like youâve forgotten how.Â
âSteve.â
âCome on. If not for me, for Penelope. Sheâll love it.âÂ
âOkay,â you settle. But you arenât really settling. He could ask you to dress up on any other day of the year and youâd do it.Â
Penelope races overâ a tabby cat with long whiskers and a pastel pink noseâ yelling, âDaddy, look!â
Steve beams at her like he stuck a lightbulb in his mouth, somehow brighter than before. âI see! You look so pretty, princess.âÂ
âIâm like Cinderella.â
âYou are!â He pats her former seat beside him until she sits.Â
Her long lashes flutter questioningly.Â
âNell, donât you think we need, I dunno, like a Tinman or a Scarecrow to go with our costumes on Halloween?âÂ
She tracks his gaze over to you, adopting your smirk. âAre you coming trick-or-treating with us?â Her voice is uneven and bubbly with anticipation.Â
âDo you want me to?â You ask genuinely.Â
Penelopeâs tongue wriggles in her mouth like she canât find the proper words to express what she feels. But she nods in this bashful way against Steveâs shoulder that surprises you.Â
âAre we being shy now?â Steve remarks, pulling her into his arms effortlessly to peck her hairline.Â
âNo,â she whines against his sweater, overjoyed to be smothered in love. Dry paint creases with her scrunched face. Itâs an adorable sight. You keep wishing you had a camera on you because this is the kind of thing Steve probably puts in his photo albums.Â
The moon climbs the sky quickly, draping the party in a silver veil. Many stay for the campfire and the promise of smores. But the later it gets, the crankier kids become for their parents. Penelopeâs no exception, whining and clinging to Steve until he agrees to hold her. And he tries to work still, but his arms are starting to burn and stamping hayride tickets isnât easy one-handed so he makes the hard choice to leave before cleanup.Â
He feels awful, apologizing to several of his coworkers on the way out but most are too drunk on cider or too high on festive cheer to care. Besides, heâs paid a salary, doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He has no obligation to be hereâ youâd reminded him of that multiple times. But the festival does feel empty when they leave, even with half the town still around.Â
áŻâ
Steve lives in a quiet pocket outside of town on a curvy, secluded stretch of road. The directions heâd scrawled out on a receipt werenât as useful as youâd hoped as one of the street names you were intended to turn on was smudged beyond legibility. But you made it, parked in front of a white house with a similarly white picket fence. Steveâs beamer is idled to your right. Itâs strange seeing it somewhere thatâs not the rec center. But itâs a familiar comfort between so much new.Â
Thereâs a tire swing knotted to the oak tree in the yard, a collection of painted rocks in the pebble-lined path up to the house, and two carved pumpkins set outside the door, caving in on themselves but not yet rotting. A lot of love is shared here. Â
Penelope answers the door when you knock. Sheâs half dressedâ stockings hugging a pair of fleece leggings and a flowy pajama tank top. Her eyes outline your costume and light up with approval.Â
You sport a flannel and denim overalls stuffed with prickly straw straight from the local farm, courtesy of Steve. But Penelope ogles your face paint more than anythingâ a stitched grin and two circles for blush. You hope itâs not scary looking.Â
She doesnât know how to let you insideâ sheâs not supposed to answer the door after allâ so she hangs clumsily off the door handle until you ask, âCan I come in?âÂ
âYes,â she teeters out of the way, closing the door behind you with a sweeping grinâ the mischievous kind that makes you wonder what sheâs up to.
The foyer is situated between the living room and kitchen, both of which are missing Steve.Â
âWhereâs your dad?âÂ
âUmm. Cleaning?âÂ
âOh. Are you getting ready to go?â
âYes, but I canât find my shoes,â she makes a strangled face and shrugs with her entire wingspan.
âDo you want me to help you look?âÂ
She nods, âI think theyâre in my closet.â
Penelope sprints up the stairs easily, leaning over the railing at the top until you hesitantly follow. You hope he wonât mind. You were technically let in.Â
It reeks of chemicals upstairs. You stifle a cough and hope itâs Steve, not some science experiment in Penelopeâs room. But you donât worry long. The culprit swings around the corner, juggling several bottles of solutions and sprays. Steve wouldâve barreled straight into you had you not thrust your arms out in defense, but still, all his things scatter across the floor.Â
âChrist, you scared me.â He kneels, tucking a roll of paper towels against his chest. âNell, you canât answer the door without me.âÂ
âI looked in the window.â
You hand him a sanitizer and shimmy your hat back into place. Itâs too big and far too floppy, sagging over your brows no matter how you situate it. Amusement draws his cheeks up as he realizes. You look ready to plop yourself in the middle of someoneâs crops and heâs in a tee and jeans you might find him in any other day. His smiley-staring only makes you feel sillier.Â
âThe strawâs really a nice touch, huh?â Steve teases, picking a sandy stem from your collar with his free hand. Heâs got that smirk you so often find on Penelopeâs lips.Â
You yank the strand from his grasp and poke the column of his throat with it. âIâm definitely more itchy than youâll be.âÂ
His fingers encase the entirety of your fist like a shell. Theyâre knobby and mannish, stout against your own. But thereâs a tenderness to his hold as he eases your fist away. You donât push back, though you contemplate it. Heâs never touched you for so long; heâs basically holding your hand.Â
âCouldâve been the Tinman,â he says, releasing your fingers at your thigh.Â
You suck in, like fuel for a reply, and exhale a breathy, nervous laugh. âAnd paint my entire body gray? No thanks.âÂ
He chuckles, eyes darting behind you. âWell, you look great. You like it, Nell?âÂ
Youâd almost forgotten she was there. Sheâs quiet as a mouse when she wants to be.Â
Penelope bobs her head behind you, patiently watching from the doorway to her room. âI have oh-ralls like that.âÂ
âYou do,â Steve confirms, fidgeting with the nozzle on the disinfectant bottle. It reminds you of the smell.Â
âYou kill someone?âÂ
He stiffens. âWhat?âÂ
You flick the bottle of Windex, serious facade fading. âSmells like youâre trying to cover it up.âÂ
âOh! No,â his shoulders soften, âJust a little spring cleaning⌠in fall.âÂ
You hum gaily. âI like your house.âÂ
âYou do?â His voice is light, buoyant with relief. âI can give you a tour. A proper one.âÂ
âI would but Iâve promised a patient little lady Iâd help her find her shoes first.â
Penelope beams when you glimpse at her. âI think theyâre in my closet,â she shares with Steve.Â
âI think so too,â he says, eyeing past her. âWhat happened to cleaning?âÂ
âI was but I had to find my costume first.âÂ
âItâll be easier to find when your roomâs clean.â He sends you a look, âDonât let her trick you into cleaning for her. Sheâs sneaky.â Steve whispers the last part, loud and teasing.Â
âIâm not sneaky!âÂ
âMhmm. Iâll go get ready and then come help you, Nell.âÂ
âThen trick-or-treat?âÂ
âYes,â he starts down the stairs, âYell if you need me.âÂ
Penelope tows you into her room by the arm, unphased by the clinking of toys crammed behind the door. Anything in her way gets kicked or shoved aside without a second thought. Itâs like her toy chest exploded, a kaleidoscope of pink and purple across the carpet. And no wonder itâs a mess; she starts chucking things out of her closet, adding to the pile spilling out like an avalancheâbooks, stuffed animals, barbie dolls, baby dolls, and so so many clothes.Â
You squeeze by a play tent, scanning the floor.Â
âTheyâre red and sparkly, âmember?â Penelope calls from behind her closet doors.Â
You tip a beanbag over with your foot, âI remember.âÂ
She babbles to herself as she looks, just like Steve doesâ little hums and scraps of thought that are hard to catch. Itâs a funny thing, to see it translated from one human to another.Â
It doesnât take long to find the shoes, wedged underneath her bed with numerous other things. You go prone against the floor to dig them out and hold them up by the straps. âThese it, Pen?âÂ
She gasps vibrantly. You wish you got up in time to see her face.Â
âHow did you know they were under there!â She shrieks, snatching them from you.Â
âJust had a feeling,â you sit up properly, happily watching her slip the flats on.Â
She practically twinkles, clicking her heels together like Dorothy.Â
âThey look stunning! You painted these?âÂ
âYes,â she skips over to her dresser, shuffling through drawer after drawer. Anything folded surely isnât anymore.Â
âYouâre a talented artist.âÂ
âI know. Daddy says.â Penelope yanks out a blue line of fabric. âMy dress is so pretty. Iâm going to be the prettiest Dorothy for Halloween.âÂ
âI know you will! You should give your dad a big hug for making such a pretty dress.âÂ
She buckles into the costume as fast as she can, patting the skirt down with a satisfied grin when itâs on.Â
After several compliments and much debate, youâre able to convince her Dorothy would have a clean room. Penelope puts a few things away, but sheâs easily distracted. And itâs hard to blame her with so many toys about. So you do most of the cleaning, but youâre happy to. Itâll make Steve happyâ lest he finds out it was youâ which makes you happy.Â
The floorâs mostly cleared when Penelope decides Steveâs taking too long; itâs time for your house tour, with or without him. And when he doesnât answer her shout itâs decidedly without him. She shows you downstairs firstâ the living room, the kitchen, the half bath, her favorite hiding spot underneath the stairs. All the while she explains her very detailed and strategic trick-or-treating plan. Staying out until midnight is the priority, she doesnât seem to care if itâs past her bedtime, and filling several bags with candy is also high on the list.Â
âAnd this is Daddyâs room.â She jerks the door knob several times before yelling, âDaddy!âÂ
âWhat?â Steve calls, muffled.Â
âLet us in!â
âI canât hear youâ hold on!âÂ
Steve unlocks the door donning the promised lion onesie and a pair of sneakers. Itâs ridiculous how handsome he looks even with a stupid fur collar and tail.Â
âCute,â is all you manage to say. He takes it as teasing, rolling his eyes, though you really mean it.Â
âCan you help me? I canât get my whiskers right.â He taps the cap of an eyeliner pen against his cheek where heâs drawn two lines.Â
âSure.â You take the stick and follow him through his room to the master ensuite.Â
âWait!â Penelope shouts and waves vaguely at the room. âThis is Daddyâs room.â
You pause to look it over, jovially commenting, âWow! Very nice.âÂ
And it is nice. Thereâs a rustic set of furniture striped in blue and green accents; paired well with the framed floral prints above his dresser. And the bedâs made, only slightly surprising, topped with a Care Bearâs quilt you assume is Penelopeâs.Â
In the bathroom, Steve leans against the counter, arms braced behind him on the sink rim. You shuffle in front of his legs, skimming knees accidentally. He has no abhorrence for physical touch, you know that for certain. Heâs touchy with not just you, but everyone in the office. An arm around the shoulder, a pat on the back, a gentle squeeze to the armâ he gives these out like candy on Halloween. But even so, touching him isnât always easy. Itâs vulnerable, runs the risk of rejection.Â
Steve smiles at you, ever-patient and encouraging when you stall awkwardly.Â
âSorry,â you whisper. Talking any louder feels illegal when heâs so close. You cup his jaw and steady your opposite hand against his cheek, picturing the line how you want it.Â
But just when you press into his skin and flick the pen, Penelope slams a drawer shut, startling you enough to flinch. The ink slants all the way behind his ear like a jagged nail.Â
You gasp and recoil, âShit.âÂ
Penelope gasps twice as loud and Steve crumples into laughter, even more so when he turns to view the damage in the mirror.Â
âOops,â you chuckle nervously, thumbing at the black streak. âThis washes off right?âÂ
âYeah, donât worry. Iâve redone it like four times.âÂ
You douse your finger in water and work the pad across his happy cheek gently.Â
Heâs watching you. You donât see, just feel it in the fringe of your peripherals. Itâs not like he has many places to look when youâre a hairâs breadth from his nose. But he might as well press a magnifying glass against your face, point out every pore and blemish and hair you're insecure about.Â
Your cheeks burn and the beginning prickles of sweat coat your upper lip. You brushed your teeth before you arrived, but how could you forget a mint? And what about an extra layer of deodorant? That wouldnât have hurt. You glance at Steve anxiously and his eyes jump to Penelope. For once youâre grateful not to keep his attention.Â
Penelope digs through his cabinet on a quest to find nothing in particular.Â
You pull away to judge your first line as Steve opens his mouth. âNell, go get your brush and hair ties.âÂ
The top half of her face pops up over the cupboard door like a puppet. âBut I want my hair down.âÂ
âI still have to brush it. And I thought you wanted the bows?âÂ
She considers his wordsâ her prior wordsâ brows pinching before she shrugs, âOkay.â The cabinet door thuds against its hinges as it claps shut, and not a second later, Steveâs bedroom door slams as Penelope charges out.Â
âYou would not believe how often I tell this kid not to slam the doors,â he scoffs, though itâs devoid of any real anger.Â
You take his chin again, packing away a grin. You have to focus. âDonât move,â you prompt.Â
Heâs relaxed in your hold. Still as a stone, maybe apart from the slight tug of his lips when you resume drawing.Â
âTickles,â he murmurs when you lift the nib.Â
You print another three to match the trio on his right. Itâs not bad, but you wouldnât say itâs good. The angles are skewed weird and oneâs shorter than the rest. But if he wants them any better, you might not be the best person to ask.Â
âHowâs that?â You draw back, searching for any smudges.Â
He spins, briefly inspecting his reflection before facing you again. âPerfect! Thank you!â
Perfect is definitely a stretch.Â
Steveâs a perfectionist. Youâve seen it innumerably in the office. How heâll spend hours revising something only to ruminate on an insignificant detail after. And with Penelope, every parenting decision is subject to endless second-guessing, as if her health and happiness hinges on the smallest nuances.Â
But as much as heâs a perfectionist, Steve would never judge you in the same way he might himself. Your whiskers truly are perfect in his eyes, not for the shape or size, but because you drew themâ wonky and all.Â
The ink warps around his smile. You study his face under the guise of checking your work. Steveâs a handsome guy. An inviting kind of handsome, with shallow laugh lines and the start of stubble stippled across his jaw. Â
âWait,â you square his shoulders, brushing the nape of his neck to reach for his hood. The lionâs mane is laid gently over the top of his hair.Â
âNow itâs perfect.âÂ
He smirks. âSexy, huh?â
âShould leave this unzipped a little. The cougars will love that.âÂ
Steve laughs, harder than you think youâve ever heard him. Itâs so contagious even Penelope joins your hysterics when she returns, though she hasnât a clue what youâre laughing about.Â
âWhatâs so funny?â Penelope lurches into his legs with a handful of hair things.Â
âWe just think my costumeâs kinda silly. Here, baby.â Steve heaves her onto the counter and props her right in between the sinks.Â
Her dress pours over her crossed legs like a layered cake, baby blue and white gingham. Steve really did a great job with the stitching; you canât even tell it was done by hand. And Penelope hasnât complained about the fit once so it must be comfortable too.Â
âFace forward please,â Steve reminds gently for a third time when Penelope twists her neck to speak.Â
Penelope frowns at his reflection. âYouâre pulling too tight.â
âSorry. You have to stop moving though.âÂ
Thereâs a mild curve to his lips. Heâs not aggravated with her fidgeting, in fact, quite the opposite. Maybe because youâre around, heâs in too good of a mood to spoil with something as trivial as his daughter's hair. But regardless, itâs endearing as it is entertaining to care for Penelope. He loves being a dad, even when itâs frustrating. And you can see the love as he braids her hairâ how he cards through knots from the ends up and slowly sections off pieces to tackle one at a time.Â
âIâm not moving.â Her chin droops as she scratches the polish from her nails.Â
Steve cups her jaw, steering it back up. âYou are, monkey.âÂ
âMonkey?â She chortles, seeking your gaze in the mirror to see if you also find the nickname funny.Â
âYeah,â Steve murmurs, seizing the rubber band from between his teeth. âMonkeys move a lot.âÂ
âDo they have tails?â
âMhmm.â
âYou have a tail 'cause youâre a lion.âÂ
Steve hums and bends back, evaluating his performance. âThere. You look so gorgeous, Penelope.âÂ
And he really has done a great job, especially with all her wiggles. Steve takes a lot of pride in styling his hairâ much of his confidence derives from it. And he tries to extend that care to Penelope; to teach her how gorgeous she is and that she deserves to be nurtured.Â
Penelope shakes her head disapprovingly. âIâm Dorothy now, Dad.âÂ
âOh, sorry.â Steve turns toward you instinctually, happy to catch your smile.Â
âYou look very very pretty, Miss Dorothy,â you correct.Â
She slides off the counter, aided by Steveâs hand. âCan we go now?âÂ
Penelope waits patiently in the foyer for Steve to gather everything needed to leave. This lasts for all of about ten minutes before Penelope is halfway out the front door, too excited to wait any longer.Â
âWait, Nell!â Steve shouts from beside you in the kitchen.Â
Youâre choosing snacks and filling water bottles. Steve doesnât really need to pack a bag for Penelope anymore, sheâs a year and a half past diapers, but he likes to feel prepared.Â
When Penelope doesnât answer, he meets her on the porch to explain, âIâm almost done. And we still have to take pictures.âÂ
âI donât wanna. Iâm ready to leave.âÂ
âWell, we arenât leaving until I get a picture of Dorothy.âÂ
She sighs, lugging herself back inside like sheâs got bricks for shoes. âWhat about Cinderella?âÂ
âGo and lookâ get the treats.âÂ
She scrambles into the kitchen, snagging a jar of cat treats from the counter quickly. You shoulder the backpack and follow her out. Steve joins you not long after, two flashlights and several glowsticks in hand.Â
âNo Cinderella?â Steve asks, unzipping the bag pressed to your back to stock with more things.Â
âNo,â Penelope pouts, vigorously shaking the jar in the air. âHow can I be Dorothy without Toto.âÂ
He yanks the zipper back up, then pats her head, âKeep calling. Whereâs your jacket?â
âI donât need it.â
âYou will. Itâs gonna get cold later. When itâs dark.âÂ
âItâll mess up my costume. Dorothy doesnât wear one.âÂ
âLet's bring it, just in case. Iâll carry it.âÂ
Steve jogs back inside, coming out this time with a camera around his neck, a jacket over his shoulder, and a plushie in hand.Â
âHere,â he sets a blue stuffed dog on Penelopeâs lap. âBackup Toto.âÂ
Penelope glares up at him, insulted. âThis isnât Toto.âÂ
âI know. But if we wait for Cinderella we might not have time for trick-or-treating. Why donât we bring the treats? See if sheâs started without us?âÂ
Penelope deflates, stuffing the dog in her wicker basket.Â
âCan I take your picture now?â
âWhy, Daddy?âÂ
âSo I can remember how beautiful you look tonight.âÂ
A petulant bow creases her lips as she peers up. Round, sullen eyes connect with his.Â
Steve squats in front of her, taking her much smaller free hand in his. âI know youâre sad about Cinderella but sheâd still want you to have fun, right? And she might show up later. I just want to get a picture now so I donât forget.âÂ
Penelope nods and Steve kisses her forehead, standing and backing up a few paces.Â
âSmile, baby. Please?â He blinks at her through the viewfinder.Â
She offers a strangled faceâ more of a toothy open mouth than a smile; not even close to wide enough to round her cheeks or crescent her eyes like the real deal. But itâs funny and just as cute. Steve snaps a photo and the expression drains from her face as fast as the cameraâs flash.
You wander behind Steve and her eyes flick to you. You try funny faces first, frowning so deep your jaw aches, pulling the tip of your nose up like a pigs, winking terribly, but none of it works. Your fingers arch into bunny ears behind Steveâs hair and you stick your tongue out at the back of his head, but still, no dice.Â
You have a really awful idea. Youâre pretty sure you might die of embarrassment. But itâs worth it to get Penelope to smile.Â
âHey, Penelope? Remember when you told me dinosaurs are silly?âÂ
She nods.Â
âWell, I have a really good dinosaur impression. Can I show you?âÂ
She nods again, equally jaded.Â
You take a deep breath and shake your head, mentally preparing yourself and simultaneously erasing Steve from existence for the moment. A feral screech erupts from the back of your throat, the kind of sound you didnât know for sure you could make.Â
Steve buckles in his crouch, barely catching himself on the pavement with his free hand. A chorus of emotions ripple his features. Heâs shocked and then amused and finally focused on capturing the picture, but what resonates the most is a fondness for you.Â
You cup a hand over your mouth, rendering a string of different noises, inspired by several animals because what the hell does a dinosaur sound like anyway? You havenât the faintest clue at the moment.  Â
Penelope fuses her lips together, unbreaking.Â
âCome on Nell, I see that smile,â Steve rallies.Â
But she doesnât give up easy. Sheâs like Steve in that way.Â
As a last resort, you press your lips to your mouth, blowing a raspberry and screwing your face in disgust. âOh my God, Steve! Did you just fart?âÂ
He gapes at you, then Penelope, tickled and tongue-tied for comebacks. He canât think straight, not when youâre making a delightful fool out of yourself, on his behalf, especially. As far as heâs concerned, Penelopeâs smiling now or at least failing awfully at hiding it. So he takes several photos of her as she unravels into a giggly heap on the driveway.Â
Certainly one of them is photo-album-worthy, but you continue your stunts anyway. âGoodness, what did you eat today?â You backpedal a few steps, fanning the surrounding air, partially to hide your own laugh. âPenelope do you smell that?âÂ
âEw! Daddy!âÂ
You arenât sure if Penelope actually believes you or if she just wants to join the fun but either way, sheâs convincing.Â
âI didnât do it!â Steve defends, dropping the camera on its sling and raising his hands in surrender. âI think it was Penelope this whole time.âÂ
You gasp. âPenelope!âÂ
âI didnât!â She cries, shaking her head aggressively. âI promise, I didnât!âÂ
âI dunno. The closer I get the more stinky it smells.â Steve slinks up to her with outstretched hands that threaten tickles.Â
She screams when he snatches her up, swearing up and down, âI didnât, Daddy!âÂ
Heâs well-practiced at being the tickle monster; knows every sensitive strip of skin to target. She was doomed from the start. Giggles spill out in jagged layers punctuated with gasps of air. Steve tickles her all the way down the driveway to the car, out of breath himself by the time he sets her on the trunk.Â
Penelope deliriously eyes his hands where they rest on the beamer.Â
âYou ready to go trick-or-treating, Little Miss Dorothy?â You ask.Â
She nods, dimples deepening with mirth.
âHere. Will you start it?â Steve fishes his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to you. âCome on, pretty girl.âÂ
She slides into her car seat happily, bouncing with excitement as he buckles her in. Steveâs told you before itâs not always so easy.Â
âI really didnât fart,â Penelope says.Â
He chuckles, sewing a kiss to her cheek, âI know, baby. Weâre just kidding.âÂ
Steve settles into the driverâs seat, depositing the stack of developed polaroids in your lap. You shuffle through as he backs out, flashing him your favorites; the best is one where sheâs planted a hand on her hip and is rolling her eyes. You adore this little drama queen more and more every day.Â
The driveâs only a few minutes, just to a denser part of the neighborhood to avoid long stretches with no houses. Steve parks against an empty grass lot behind another car. This areaâs already bustling with kids which adds to Penelopeâs anticipation.Â
âDaddy, lookâ itâs Minnie Mouse!âÂ
Steve inspects the crowd through the window. âYeah, you remember when you were Minnie Mouse?âÂ
âI was?âÂ
âMhmm. You had ears and I painted your face. You were little.â He unbuckles, grabbing the backpack stashed at your feet.Â
âOh. Am I still little?âÂ
He pauses to melt, just to himself and only a bit. Itâs too early to be sentimentalâ a long night of fun awaits. Steve cranes over his seat to see her face. âYes, youâre still little. But youâre growing a lot. I think you might be as tall as me, one day.âÂ
âNooo,â she giggles, waving her foot at him.Â
âI dunno,â he sing-songs back, squeezing her shoe before turning back around.Â
Steve distributes a handful of glowsticks, shoving a few extra in Penelopeâs basket. You guys start down the block as the sun sinks below the treeline, more than enough time to complete Penelopeâs plan which she reminds you of. She takes Steveâs hand, then yours, and it strikes you suddenly how much you appear as a family to outsiders. Itâs not an unwelcome feeling, just a strange one.Â
At the first house, Penelope knocks hard and declares to the elderly woman who answers, âTrick or treat!â She repeats it, insisting with wide eyes that she deserves two pieces of candy for her double effort. And the woman canât resist her charm, obliging with a handful of pieces. Steve jokes it off, calls her a bargainer, but you gawk at the interaction.Â
At the second house, she points to you and Steve, arguing you deserve candy too since youâre both in costume. And it works, scoring you each a piece that ends up in her tote anyway. By the third, you canât keep a straight face, her antics are hilariously cute and you compliment Steve for raising such a little mastermind.Â
You fall into a routine steadily, loafing along the road with Steve while Penelope trots up to each house.Â
âLast year she was Snow White and the year before a cat,â Steve explains when you ask.Â
âShe likes princessesâ.âÂ
âLess so now but yeah. She used to say she wanted to be a princess when she grew up.âÂ
âCanât blame her.â You watch her fondly from afar. She picks a piece of candy off the ground and debates before tossing it in with the others. âWhat does she wanna be now?âÂ
âChanges all the time. Last it was a detective.â He beckons Penelope over. âNell, what do you want to be when you grow up?âÂ
She fiddles with her basket handle. Youâve done two streets and itâs almost full. You're starting to think youâll have to buy a pillowcase off of someone.
âUmm⌠Can I be a trick-or-treater?âÂ
âWhat!â Steve flips her braid over her shoulder, âThatâs just for one day, goofball.âÂ
âWell⌠then,â she hums, squinting at the surrounding swarm of characters and creatures. âMaybe a pirate?âÂ
You and Steve share a look of amusement. You do that a lot now. Itâs instinctual. Finding each other's eyes, even in a room full of people itâs easy. Sometimes thereâs just too much joy not to share.Â
âDaddy, how many houses are left?âÂ
âThereâs quite a few on this street. You tired?âÂ
âNo. Can I see? I want to count.âÂ
She doesnât seem tired to you but Steveâs able to read her with the tiniest details. Itâs like heâs got superpowers sometimesâ dad superpowers. But maybe heâs just guessing, itâs getting closer to bedtime.
Steve boosts her onto his shoulders with a hefty groan about âgetting oldâ which you bicker over because heâs only twenty-six.Â
Penelope counts eleven houses, eight with lights on, but buzzes about a particular home illuminated with rainbow LEDs and a giant spider. And itâs even cooler than she described up close, mansion-like, decked out with spotlights and decorations taller than you and Steve combined.
A motionless clown holds a bloody bucket of candy outside. Their decorations are so extravagant, itâs hard to tell whatâs real and whatâs fake. But youâre pretty sure the clown just blinked and you make sure Steveâs aware of that, not that he was letting Penelope go alone anyway.Â
Steve scoops Penelope up before she gets very far up the driveway despite her complaints.Â
âIâm not scared, Daddy,â she assures. And thereâs nothing that tells you she isâ sheâs just as cheery and bright-eyed as before.Â
âI know, princess.â He rubs her arm, scanning for other statues with the potential to come alive. âIâm kinda scared, though.âÂ
She tips her head at him, puzzled because itâs always the other way around. But her arms coil around his neck, a loving press of affection that she learned from him.Â
And whether heâs actually afraid to be jumpscared or just subconsciously ingraining in her that itâs okay if she is, you arenât really sure. Probably both, and either way, it warms your insides.Â
The clown cocks its head slowly when Penelope reaches in the bowl.Â
She cocks her head back, innocently amused. âTrick-or-treat?âÂ
The clown nods, pushing the bowl toward her.Â
Steve sags just a hair but remains very much on high alert.Â
You mouth your appreciationâ âThanks.â Thanks for not scaring my coworker-friends-child who Iâve grown really fond of and would hate to see cry.Â
âDaddy, can we go in there?â Penelope points to a tunnel opening, fringed with black streamers and flashing lightsâ some sort of haunted house walk-through that wraps around the home.Â
âNo, baby. Thatâs for big kids.âÂ
She spots a group of teenagers exit the other side, screaming, laughing, and doubling over each other into the grass.Â
âI really wanna goâ please, Iâll be so brave. Iâm not even scared,â she pleads, flashing him a wobbly frown.Â
But thereâs no expression she could pull right now that would change his mind, not when he hears a chainsaw buzzing inside. She could throw herself on the ground and kick and cry and heâd still refuse. He knows enough kids that have been traumatized by horror-movie-type creatures and characters; heâll be damned if his daughter becomes one of them.Â
Penelope sulks for a few houses but she has loads more candy to collect and decides not to waste her time for too long.Â
âCan you hold this?â She thrusts her basket toward Steve. Itâs overflowing at this point; youâve all started cramming candy in your pockets, hoping itâs cold enough outside that nothing melts. Steveâs been beating himself up for three blocks for forgetting the backpack in the car.Â
âSure,â he says, retracting his hand from his pocket.
But before he takes it, you joke, âBetter keep an eye on him. He might eat some when youâre not lookinâ.â
Penelope studies him for a long moment before shifting the bag toward you.Â
âPenelope! You donât really believe that do you?â He scoffs, breathily laughing.
You cackle as she shrugs and sprints to the next house.Â
Steve bumps your shoulder, snaking a hand in the basket to steal a pack of M&Ms off the top. âBlowinâ my whole operation.âÂ
âSteve,â you scold and bump him back. âDonât get me in trouble.âÂ
âShe wonât notice.â He waves you off, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. âBut if she does Iâm saying it was you.âÂ
You whack his arm, glowing bright as the moon, âAsshole.âÂ
Penelope doesnât complain about her feet aching once the whole night and you know they probably do because yours started hurting forever ago. Surely she gets some kid-sized Oscar for that. And Steve being the great dad he is offers to carry her on the way back to the car anyway.Â
âDaddy?âÂ
Steve hums, hoisting her up where she slips.Â
âCan we go trick or treating tomorrow?â
He glances at you, confirming you also hear this cuteness. âNo, baby. Tomorrowâs not Halloween.â
âI know, but we should still go. I bet lots of people still have candy. Like, leftovers.â She yawns into his shoulder where his fur hood has been tugged down to warm his neck and double as a makeshift pillow.Â
âDonât you have enough candy?â
âNo. I need more Reeseâs for you.â
âYouâre gonna give them to me?â
âOnly some. I like them too.âÂ
âThatâs kind of you.âÂ
Her eyes are half-lidded and struggling, but sheâs still awake as Steve stows her into her car seat. She chatters sluggishly to keep herself up and you and Steve entertain it; itâll make bedtime easier if she doesnât fall asleep in the car. Perhaps handing her a pack of Smarties was overkill because apparently, it has enough sugar to wire her longer than the five-minute drive home.Â
No slower than Steve can lock the front door, Penelope dumps the contents of her bag on the floor. A bouquet of candy wrappers, big and small, enough to last her months if sheâs patient.Â
âYou can have five more pieces tonight.âÂ
Penelope smirks at Steve before heâs even finished. âTen?âÂ
âSix. But you have to brush your teeth for twice as long.â Before she can rebuttal he shakes his head. âFinal offer.âÂ
âFine,â she huffs, combing through her pile. She sorts them into categories while Steve prepares her bath. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is already onâ Steve has a bad habit of forgetting to turn the TV off when he leavesâ but you find the remote when Penelope asks you to turn the volume up.Â
âYou can have these,â she announces, pushing a chunk of her goodies toward you. Itâs mostly things she doesnât like: twizzlers and dark chocolate and anything with peanuts. But she did sneak in one of your favorites youâd mentioned earlier that night. She really is a sweetheart.Â
âThank you, Penelope. Thatâs very nice of you.âÂ
âThese are for Daddy,â she points to a second pile, smacking loudly on the gummy bear she just decapitated. âHe loves chocolate but he got a cavity once because he ate too much.âÂ
âAre you talking about me?â Steve hollers, clambering down the stairs two at a time.Â
âNo?â Penelope giggles.Â
His hands snap to his hips once he treks into the living room. âAlright, itâs bath time then bedtime Miss Dorothy.â
Penelope looks utterly betrayed. Sheâs only eaten three things andâ âItâs not even late yet,â she whines.Â
He pretends to check his watch, âIt is.âÂ
Itâs not but she canât tell time yet.Â
âCan we watch Oz, Daddy, please? Thereâs no school tomorrow, âmember?â
âWe watched it last night, peanut. Why donât we watch a Halloween movie?âÂ
Peanut, pumpkin, princess, he calls her all sorts of cute things. Is it wrong to wish he called you cute things too?Â
âI wanna watch Oz. Iâm Dorothy so we have to.â She drags out the last syllable until she runs out of breath.Â
Penelopeâs over-tired. Delirious and whiny and easily hysterical when she doesnât get her way. And itâs not that Steve thinks he should give in when sheâs like this, heâs just tired too. And youâre here and itâs the weekend so what will one movie really do? He can guarantee sheâll fall asleep during it anyway.Â
âOkay. Only if youâre super-duper fast in the bath.â
She shouts and whizzes upstairs.Â
Steve diverts his attention to you, âYou wanna stay? I can make popcorn.âÂ
Of course, youâd love to stay, and not just for the promise of popcorn, but youâre afraid if you do, youâll never want to leave.Â
âAre you sure?âÂ
âWhy wouldnât I be?â He makes a faceâ a ridiculously lovely one. âGo sit. Weâll be quick.âÂ
They arenât quick but there are photo albums on the coffee table that youâre happy to look through in the meantime. You flick through beats of their life like stills of a movie. There are baby photos, school pictures, movie stubs, plane tickets, and several people you donât know the names of. Itâs weirdâ getting snippets of things about them you had no idea of. Youâre filling the gaps as you go.Â
Penelope returns first, frolicking her way to the entertainment center in fresh pajamas. Sheâs on a mission by the looks of it, making a mess of the VHS collection in the cabinet. By the time Steve arrives, most of the films are splayed across the carpet.Â
âOz is already in, silly goose. We watched it yesterday remember?âÂ
Penelope drops the tape in her hands, âOh.âÂ
Steve hunches over her, slotting the films away one by one. She doesnât help much, but he doesnât seem to mind.Â
Penelope clambers onto the couch beside you and Steve beside her. Itâs a long sectional, enough room for several others. But Penelope scoots in right beside you so you're hip to hip. And Steve makes himself comfortable more in the middle cushion than the farthest.Â
His onesie has been traded for sweats and his whiskers scrubbed awayâ though a faded, gray smear crosses his jawline. You consider telling him, or licking your thumb and scratching it away yourself, but it makes you feel less weird to be the only one still in costume so you let it stay.Â
âI like these,â you tug the cotton pant leg of Penelopeâs outfit. Itâs a matching set, frilly and plaid with a black cat stamped to the torso.
She tucks her lower lip away sheepishly and pushes her crown into your shoulder. Her hair's damp, soaking your sleeve cold, but you fawn at the affection more than anything.Â
âDid you find that picture? From her first birthday? I think itâs in there.â Steve gestures toward the closed album in your lap with the remote but remains glued to the TV.Â
âNo, I didnât finish looking.â
âI wanna see,â Penelope arches over your legs, prying the book open.Â
Steve rewinds the film to the start and pauses it so he can look too.Â
You thumb the plastic sheet over a recent image of Penelope scrunching her nose at the camera, a riot of stickers across her face.Â
âRoRo!â She taps the photo beside it. Itâs a haphazard blur, most likely captured by Penelope; you make out the shape of Steve first, then the less angular, slightly shorter personâ a woman, RoRo. You think Penelopeâs mentioned her before but nothing about the picture rings any bells.Â
âMhmm. Thatâs Robin. Remember this was at the airport?âÂ
âIs that when we got pizza?âÂ
âYeah!â Steve rubs her arm. âYou have a good memory.â Â
You turn the page, revealing a set of grainy, blue-tinted photos from the same roll of film. Steve looks young for his age now, but he looked like a baby then. Strangely though when thereâs an actual infant in his arms. He was thinner then but even softer in the face. Not unhappy, per se, but maybe missing a lightness he has now. Â
âThis was on my twenty-third birthday,â he explains. âLook how little you were!â
âDid I eat cake?âÂ
âNo, you were too young, baby.â He chuckles, pointing to another photo. âYou tried a banana for the first time in this one.â
âI like bananas.â
âYou didnât used to.âÂ
Steve and Penelope share slices of their pasts fondly. You study the photos, compare these reflections to the people you find yourself next to. Thereâs an unexpected pinch in your chestâ not getting the chance to know these versions of them, it makes you sad. But itâs a happy sort of sad. Youâre grateful to know them now.Â
Penelope begs to flip through another album but Steve decides itâll be too late to finish The Wizard of Oz if they do. His true reluctance stems from how emotional the first one made himâ though youâll pretend not to notice for his sake.Â
Steve bets Penelope an extra Reeses that sheâll fall asleep by the time Dorothy meets the scarecrow. Itâs unfair, really. You tell Penelope not to pinky promise it but she does. And she loses awfully, yawning within five minutes and startling herself awake within ten. You scoff when Steve starts carding through her hairâ her guaranteed snooze switch. Itâs evil and you tell him so. So of course, that finishes her off long before Scarecrow makes an appearance; she curls into Steveâs side and digs a heel into yours. Poor girl never stood a chance.Â
âShe had a lot of fun tonight,â Steve utters. Itâs alarming at first, how his voice eclipses the TV like there isnât a child snoring against his stomach. But she doesnât stir. He knows she wonât.Â
âDid you?â You ask, skating between a whisper and not.Â
âVery much. You?âÂ
âMhmm. Loads,â you answer without hesitation. Itâs possibly the easiest question anyoneâs ever asked you. âI think Penelopeâs right.â
He quirks an eyebrow against the front of the couch. His cheek is sinking further into the cotton like he might fall asleep.Â
âWe should go trick-or-treating tomorrow too.âÂ
His lips wane into a soft smile. If he wasnât so drained he might laugh too. âWhat should we be? Penelope has a strict no-repeat costume rule.âÂ
You hum, scraping your memory for the best costumes youâd seen. There were Power Rangers and Ghostbusters and several Batmen with their Catwomen. But the image of one young family sticks out the most in your mind. A young pair of parents with their son and daughter decked in moody black and white.Â
âAddams family?âÂ
âWhoâs who?âÂ
âSheâs Wednesday. Obviously.â
Steve chuckles, accidentally too loud and Penelope twitches against his thigh. He draws her against his chest readily and strokes her spine with the back of his hand. âObviously,â he whispers.Â
âYouâre Morticia and Iâm Gomez, though.âÂ
âOh?â
âYeah. Sheâs tall and pretty. Strong jawline, kinda sassy. I think youâll make it work.âÂ
Youâre flirting. You know you are as soon as you say it. And you donât mean to, it just happens; the words come intuitively as blinking. Your brain does all sorts of crazy things around Steve.Â
âYou think Iâm pretty?â Heâs smiling hard. You canât tell if heâs serious or not.Â
âPretty sassy, yeah,â you deflect. Itâs a safer truth than admitting you do think heâs pretty.Â
He rolls his eyes. âMy mom says Nell gets her attitude from me. Says itâs payback for how I was as a child.âÂ
You gawk emphatically. âWere you a bad kid Steve Harrington?â
âI wasnât badâ just needed attention I think.âÂ
You hum. Itâs a little surprising since you know Steveâs an only child to wealthier parents. Youâd pegged him to be spoiled in both money and attention.
âAre you close with your parents?â
He shakes his head, âNot really. Talk every now and then.â
âSorry.âÂ
âDonât be. I came to terms with it a while ago. Even more after she was born.â He skims his lips against Penelopeâs head. âI canât imagine not being in her life. You know, not really knowing her? Not knowing her favorite things or when sheâs hurting or what sheâs up to every second of the day. I donât think thatâll ever change.â Â
âSheâll be so grateful to have that kind of relationship when sheâs older.âÂ
âYeah, maybe. Like way older.â His shoulders droop as he sighs, âShe already thinks Iâm smothering her. Wouldnât hold my hand yesterday because sheâs âtoo bigâ she said.âÂ
âAlready?â You laugh.
âI know!â He groans. âI almost cried.âÂ
âShe loves you. Kids just show it in strange ways.âÂ
âYeah⌠She forced me to hold a slug last week.âÂ
âYou held it?âÂ
âI had to! She was so excited to give it to me.â
âAww. Youâre a good dad.âÂ
Steve's eyes caper down and his cheeks pinken. âIâm trying to be.âÂ
Apart from the movie and an occasional sleep sigh from Penelope, silence swallows the room. Itâs a comfortable silence; the kind you only get around people youâve known forever; It feels like youâve known Steve your entire life. You have to remind yourself itâs only been a few months. Remind yourself this is the first time youâve ever even hung out.Â
You find yourself drifting to the future. A future, with Steve and Penelope. Vacations and school events and hiking trips and movie nights and so much more. Itâs silly. It makes your heart want to rip itself from your chest.Â
Steve clears his throat. Your fantasy is only partially dissolved. âIâm gonna take her upstairs. Put her to bed.âÂ
You lean forward and press into your knees, gearing to stand. âOkay. I should get going. Itâs late.âÂ
âStay for a minute. Iâll walk you out.â
You have no reason to decline but even if you did, you arenât sure you would be able to. Saying no to Steve is as hard as saying no to Penelope. They have the same puppy-dog eyesâ brown and soft as sun-baked clay. That must be it.Â
Steve strains to stand with the added weight. Heâs strong but Penelopeâs four now and having growth spurts like thereâs a race to be the tallest kid in school. She clings to him instinctually, slotting her face into his neck like it was sculpted specifically to be her pillow. Her gangly legs sway against his thighs as he slowly climbs the stairs and disappears onto the landing. Â
You donât notice Steveâs return. Heâs much quieter than before, taking softer steps and more calculated movements. He doesnât have the buffer of his body heat to soothe Penelope back to sleep if she wakes. The palm on your shoulder startles you.Â
He whispers an apology from behind the couch, voice sweet and buttery as caramel. You let him guide you the short distance to the front doorâ expecting it to end thereâ but he presses into a pair of laced sneakers thrown beside the entry table.Â
The nightâs chill is jolting, even in your coat. Itâs easy to forget the months are slipping into winter when Steveâs around. He radiates warmth, not just in sun-kissed skin and honeyed eyes, but in his tone and his touches and every aspect of his spirit. And it bleeds like a fire. Brushes your cheeks like flames and stirs perpetually in your belly like magma.Â
He walks you the entire length of his driveway to your car. Probably wouldâve opened the door for you if you didnât beat him to it.Â
âThank you for inviting me Steve,â you say, lingering in the threshold of your open door.Â
âThank you for coming. Iâm really happy you came. So is Penelope.âÂ
âAs much as I am looking forward to The Addams Family next year, we should plan something⌠maybe a little sooner?âÂ
âMmm. Let me check my schedule first,â he teases, rapping his fingers against the roof of your car.Â
âWhatever, boss-man.â
You still donât get in. Thereâs a stretch of silence, not awkward, just a placeholder for when the right words come. And they donât. Not tonight anyway. You could hug him? Peck his cheek? Pat his back as he might yours?Â
You settle for a safe and simple tight-lipped smile. He appreciates it just the same.Â
âSee you Friday?â He asks.Â
âSee you then.âÂ
Steve guides the door closed after you settle in. He waits until your taillights have completely fizzled out in the shadows of his street to stroll back up to his house.Â
He thinks of you as he locks the front door and again as he finds your hat on the sectional and a third time as he slips under his sheets. Steve isnât sure what to do. He feels sick. His heart is hammering and his gut twists itself in knots like it does when heâs afraid. He hasnât quite figured out what about you is so scary but how can he possibly wait until Friday to find out?Â
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#dad steve harrington#steve harrington#coworker steve harrington#stranger things fic#stranger things#the shape of family#skeltnwrites#my work
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