#Trick or treat smell my feet give me something good to eat if you don’t I don’t care you’re gonna to lose your hair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

I WANT YOUR BELLY.

Summary: The shimmery vest of Harry's on you makes him combust on the spot ;)

A bottle of wine gone in a span of minutes. Your giggles treacly and slurry as you poke his heart-shaped, wine stained lips matching with his pink refulgent vest and he grins toothy-ly sweat sheened on his perfect features and his nose twitches into besotted sniff of your fragrance, leaning down to murmur his lips to yours.

“What got ya gigglin’ like tha’ lovebug?” You shake your head in slight carelessness. His brows furrowing in confusion, mouth parting musingly into a soft chuckle when you shimmy his vest down his arms leaving his upper half naked and all beautiful for you to admire.

“Just relax and see.” You whine out timidly tip-toeing on your toesies to the centre of the hotel room you guys are staying at -- well more like fucking morning and evening with a little tinge of exclusivity everytime.

When you came back to this cosy place of yours after an hour of his show ending that shimmery feeling of proud for him and the jitteriness to love on him was still there, more like doubled up when your eyes weren’t able to drift away from the stiff bulge forming in his pants from all the adrenaline and heat pumping in his body due to praises.

He takes pride in it, absolutely basks in the novelty of it.

His dimples dings up into a wicked smirk, the heels of his palms sinking into the soft bedding as he man-spreads quite sexily and leans into his own weight then straightens up immediately with bright eyes and a shit-eating grin when you strip down your clothes slowly.

“You givin’ me a strip tease baby!?” He howls playfully and you shushes him through sputtry giggles, head lulling at your shoulder and you laugh at the top of your lung as he rolls his eyes to his skull in the most erotic way and squeezes his straining member with the cup of his large palm when you get rid of every item of clothing you had on your body and with hesitant glances his way wears his vest.

It accentuates your curves beautifully, falling a little over your thighs from how big it’s since it’s his’s and it gives the most pristine view of the crescent of your tits and the valley between them.

His stomach froths with heat, the fabric of his pink flared bottoms from his splotching with the dollops of his precome and his bare chest heaves with raged breaths as you rub your one feet over another in timidness, knowing you’re drunk enough to do this but sober enough to contemplate how to put it infront of him.

Though they both know even if you move it an inch away to show him your perky tits, it’s over for the curly head.

“You know how belly dancers got this cute sparkly shiny dresses to make them appear more bendy? I’ve always wanted to do that! It seems so fun!” To your defence you always wanted to dance as carefree and fun as they do all you didn’t know was that it’ll be like this – giving a literal fever to your boyfriend and arousing both of you to such an extent where all his fierce eyes are indicating he’s about to strike forward and throw you on the bed and pound into you reckless.

The room fills with her sweet laugh when Harry fans himself, puffing out huge inhales of breaths and smirks at her cheekily.

“A lap dance would be much appreciated, thank you.” He's almost about to burst because she sure as hell looks amazingly stretchy and bendy and very breed able in this shiny thing.

“What a gentleman. Now, put on some music so I could give you a show you really deserve.” You command him and he nearly whimpers wanting to crawl towards you and spanks that bum of yours.

You’re suppressing your chuckles when he almost falls face first into the carpeted floor while scrambling to put on some music and when he returns back he’s rocking back and forth like an impatient kid -- doing anything in his will to give a bit friction, some relive to his throbbing cock.

“Promise that you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You point a finger at him, eyebrow raised to assert a little bit of power you’ve over him.

“C’mon baby! My balls are turning blue d'ya think I could ever make fun of you when you’re being such a good girl f'me?” His groans shaky and hoarse, nostrils flaring and his hands sandwiching between his thighs to subside the ache that you caused.

Hot white pleasure surges through each of his cervices and rattles through his bones upon the absolute lewd and smutty sight of you dancing for him with your eyes affixed on him like a seductress and it pelts his skin hot.

“Fuck.” He’s cursing under his breath, as you curve around gracefully and shakes your ass for him teasing your fingers over the waistband of your lace panties.

You bite down your lip when he puts his fingers under his tongue with his mouth sucked around them as he wolf whistles for you.

“Yes you go baby!” He yells at you making you laugh rosying your features and not failing to make you feel tingly under his passionate gaze.

The he looks down at himself in rather pique tugging his tight briefs a little away from suffocating his dick that's swelling up awfully fast and leaking with every graze and touch making him hiss groggily through his teeth loudly.

His reaction makes your cheeks flush and your toes curl against the soft carpet, making you all gooey with your own slick.

He almost looses it when you roll your hips and your tummy ripples raunchily.

You’re taken aback when he’s striding towards you, cupping the nape of your neck roughly and pressing his thumb into your nervy pulse pushing you till you’re pressed into the wall and he’s muffling your surprised squeaks with a big fat smooch to your lips which turns into sloppy heated work of mouths, tongues slick and naughty against eachother, teeth nibbling and teasing, lips too desperate to be parting away and when they do they’re hovering over eachother with their breaths hot and fanning.

“Look at y'being a filthy tease.” He tuts, warm fingertips tickling down your chest and sneaking under his vest to palm your tits as he ducks down to lick a fat stripe up your throat then sink his teeth into soft underbelly of your jaw.

“Now tell me who taught you to dance this good?” Everyone should sit down and takes notes from one and only Harry Styles; the man sure knows how to lie through his teeth because what you pulled moments ago was just clumsy drunk flailing of limbs.

“God gifted.” He chuckles mockingly, tapping your bottom pouty lip.

Your neck stretches far giving him more access to mark you as his’s, your fingers manoeuvring into his sweaty ruffled up curls when he glances up at you intensely with your nipples sucked in his mouth and his hand gliding into your panties – smirking goadingly at the squirm and pathetic gurgle of your tone.

“just like this pussy of yours?”

Except his eyes no blade can control you, no sharpened knife. That lascivious gaze’s enough to threaten a storm up your thighs and cause a rainfall between your legs.

Carefully, he puts his knees on the floor one by one while he paws at your hips to vignette admiring kisses down your midriff.

“Stop! It tickles!” You gasp giggle when his fingers palliates into your soft love-handles nipping and lapping then sponging tender kisses to your belly, your back arching abruptly with a low crack your blunt nails scratching down the wallpaper when Harry coos and spurts noises of admiration.

“Can’t help it, poppet. I love your little belly so much.” Your mouth parts around shallow breaths when he nuzzles his nose against your heat and engulfs into the tangerine smell of your arousal, pressing a kiss to the damp spot and murmuring against it with his calloused palm hardly pressed to your quivering tummy.

“Love feelin’ myself snug in your belly, how it warbles and gurgles fo’ me t’ fill it up with me cum,” His gruff tone sending cold shivers down your spine, making you wetter and slicker, pussy lips clenching around nothing making squelching noises catching Harry’s attention and he smirks ominously -- startling you with a gentle nip to the inside of your thighs then ripping your panties in one harsh tug.

“You love takin’ my cock in this cute belly of yours don’t ye' kitten?” He asks you, eyes glued to the way you melt into his touch when he parts your glistening pulsating folds away with his middle and index, mesmerised at how drippy you’ve managed to get for him as it coats his digits then tricks down his wrist thickly.

“Hmm. Guess like I’ve no option but to treat myself to the sweet pussy of my belly dancer.” He hums roguishly, making you bob your head vigorously and pulling at his hair to nudge him to do something anything to quell this ache that's soaring like a flame in wind making you embarrassingly more slippery every passing second.

Your eyelids skewers tight, fingers falling lip atop the mop of his curls and knees quaking thanks to Harry’s strong biceps straddling you over his shoulders as he spreads your legs wider apart and grips onto your thighs with his all might and strokes his tongue in one tantalising hot lick from all the way to your slit up your pulsing clitoris wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub into a nasty suck and toys it around with his tongue.

“Ha –- H ... Harry!” You whimper out meekly grinding your cunt against the faint stubble growing over his cupid-bow, pleasure spiking into your each pore at how good it feels.

“Mhmm kitten, tell me does daddy makes y'feel good? Warm and nice?” A string of saliva connects his lips and your clitoris. He presses his two fingers to it moving them up and down to lube them then to rub your clit in tight little circles, putting right pressure and attention to it as you cry out slumping against the wall and grabbing onto the nearest furniture with a mantra of harryharryharry booming in your head.

“Yes, yes, yes. You’re so good to me,” You mewl out impishly incasing his head perfectly between your thighs, trembling in his hold when he eases his ring and middle finger inside you gauging for your reactions and carousing in the way your face falls placid into pure bliss, your lips wobbly and the corners of your eyes dotting pink.

“This feels good, moppet?” He asks gruffly curling to caress the spot that sends you into wreck havoc and plunges his fingers deeper inside you, the tip of his nose stuffing into your mound as he licks into you hungrily and sloppily getting his cheeks and chin all messy and shiny with your juices.

“Bet, daddy’s cock feels better. Stuffs y’belly more good.” He growls, the vibrations jolting you in your skin. His fingers fucking into you quicker and deeper, pushing his knuckles to your weepy tight entrance – your cunt swallowing his rings.

Your chin tips up towards the ceiling moaning breathily, thighs trembling and hands gripping his shoulders that’ll leave guaranteed bruises as the ministrations of his mouth and tongue on you, his fingers thrusting in you and his face making a mess out of your drippiness become too much for you sending you into a over drive of buzziness making you lightheaded and floaty.

“C’mon kitten drench me, cum in daddy’s mouth.” Is all it takes for you to do what he asked for and you almost fell forward if not for Harry’s support squirting with loud and wounded moans.

He almost combusts in his pants when you grit carnally riding his face and shoving yourself down into him, not able to stop coming while he encourages you, soothing your aching thighs with gentle strokes, “That’s it baby, atta girl.” And “You did so good f'me kitten, g’na show you how hard ‘m for you.”

"Cute. How bout I fuck you in every one of my outfits?" He pats your cheek, smacking a big kiss to it and doesn't wait for your response before throwing you over his shoulder and landing a stinging slap to your bum.

His dark lustful eyes indicating that he’s not done with you yet.

#harry styles smut #harry styles dirty imagines #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #harry smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n imagines #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #cute harry #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

552 notes · View notes

littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

“harry’s stylist, right?” part II

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this gif bc i couldn’t fine the fit i wanted to showcase, but that night him and y/n get closer than they had gotten before :))

and we’re back :) - this is the last part of this i may do some little blurbs and stuff about these two if people want it (maybe) i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s not proofread so sorry about that lol. Feedback and reblogs are so very very appreciated, also feel free to message me about you’re feelings about this

Word Count: just over 10k | Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, implication of smut, i think that’s it

part 1

After the call with Jeff, which wasn’t really a conversation at all, moreso a berating from him, she was in the worst mood. She shrugged off the Bode jacket and hung it up in her entryway closet. She wasn’t planning on wearing it ever again. Without the jacket on, her shirt that seemed to be exactly on the nose with it’s “we’re in the shit” graphic was clear and she untucked it from her light mint pants. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Instead of picking her phone up again, she decided she could do without communication for a while. Her feet padded to her bedroom, after removing her nikes and socks. In her bedroom she opened up her record player, wanting music, but not wanting to be bothered with her laptop since it had a connection to the internet.

She grabbed her Electric Warrior by T. Rex and slipped out the first record from its sheath. As she set up the music, she couldn’t remember where she’d even gotten the record but for some reason it had called to. She skipped over Mambo Sun, the first track, though, and had it play Cosmic Dancer first. It was calming to her, she swayed a bit to the soothing beat and then climbed into her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered about when her life had gotten so complicated. The rhythm in the music and the exhausting thought material lulled her to sleep as the afternoon sun washed her room a perfect golden from behind her shade.

When she woke up again, it was midnight and she was starving. The record had stopped spinning hours ago, she hadn’t even gotten through side A. It was forgotten as she made her way to her kitchen, groggily.

After settling on cereal and an alcoholic seltzer for dinner, she was really in the mood to treat herself, she made her way back to her living space. On the couch, she tucked her legs beneath herself and spooned the sugary food into her mouth. She had only soy milk in the place because she didn’t like cow’s milk and it didn’t keep when she was gone for extended periods of time. Then as she sipped from the black cherry White Claw, she dug her hand into the cushion next to her. Her hand reemerged with her discarded phone from earlier. She decided it was reasonable to go on it now.

More messages from various people in her life and hundreds of social media notifications. She was going to ignore social media for as long as she possibly could. Four missed calls. 2 voicemails. Styles Harry. Why she kept contacts backwards in her phone was unimportant, it’s just what she did.

She sighed and took a bigger sip of the barely alcoholic drink. Then clicked the voicemail notifications and pressed the first one on speaker as she began to read his texts as well. Then the next voicemail. She checked the time in California, it was still a reasonable part of the day there so instead of texting back she rang him.

“Hello?”

“Har- H. Hi.”

“Y/N! Are you alright?” The concern apparent in his tone. She was taken aback. He hadn’t necessarily sounded angry in his texts or voicemails, but she just assumed he was being courteous since it was a live conversation.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No! Why would I be?”

“Because I just had my ass handed to me by Jeff earlier.” She slightly mumbled and shrugged, still upset with how she had been spoken to by Jeff.

“Oh gosh, I told him not to be harsh. It’s honestly not a big deal. I thought it was fine, you texted me too!”

“Yeah, well apparently wearing your clothes means we’re dating and that’s not cool in the world’s eyes,” you scoff.

“I know how much you like that coat...I thought you looked great in it, too.” He finishes in a slight whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

“Harry…” you can’t keep the smile off your face. It was a cute compliment even if the situation wasn’t ideal. “Why do your fans have to be so smart and know there’s only two of those coats in the world and I don’t own the other one.”

He laughs, blushing at how you said his name. This time not using his nickname didn’t bother him, it felt even more intimate somehow.

He rubs a hand through his hair, “I know, pesky little devils, gotta love’em, though”

She hums, not sure if she can agree about loving them right now since they’re probably eating her alive all over social media.

“So you’re alright, darling?” He asks again.

“Mhmm,” she pauses at the pet name, it was soothing right now. All she wanted was to curl into his chest, but he was half a world away, quite literally. His words would have to do in his absence. “I’m really glad you’re not mad at me, H. That would’ve made this a hundred times worse.”

He huffs, wishing he could be with her to comfort her. He hated this part of his life. A friend couldn’t borrow a piece of his clothing without everyone assuming that they were seeing each other. It was disgusting and it made him dislike tabloids and social media even more than he already did.

“Trust me. I’d never be mad at you, pet. And I’d definitely never be mad at you for looking good as fuck in my clothes.”

“Shut up!” She squeals, his tone turning from earnest to teasing in one breath. He cackles on the other end of the line because despite her mean words, he could hear the smile on her lips.

“When are you flying back to London?” Her voice grows quiet again after she takes another sip of her drink.

“Thursday,” he almost whispers back, having contained his mirth again.

“We have some work to do on your Graham Norton and Jingle Bell Ball outfits. The listening party ones are all picked up -”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off, “It’s late for you, go to bed. Try not to stress out too much, we’ll talk when I’m back about work. For now, take a few days off to not think about my clothes.”

She sighs, “Thanks, H. You’re right. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Goodnight, m’love.”

She ends the phone call and chalks the almost ‘my’ sounding syllable that she heard before love was just her tired mind and Harry’s mumbling voice. It most certainly wasn’t.

After a restful few days of doing absolutely nothing, something rare for Y/N, she was extremely well rested. So much so that she was peacefully asleep when Harry let himself into her flat since they had agreed to meet at her place when he got back to London. As much as he wanted her to take time off and not over work herself, his schedule was a busy one and now that he was back, they had work to do.

Inside her flat, he was greeted with silence. He made his way to her bedroom at the back of the flat. He’d been here a handful of times. She always told him she preferred to spread out when she worked and Harry’s was the place for that. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and he pushed it open slowly with his ring clad hand. His black nails are freshly painted and shiny, no chips. Still in her bed, Y/N shifted around softly. He smiled to himself, taking in how the room smelled over lavender and how she had pink floral sheets. He walked to the window and raised the shade, hoping to have her wake up without and coaxing from him.

“H,” her voice mumbles into her pillow and he thinks she’s woken up. His face turns to look at her, but her eyes are still closed and she looks completely asleep. He wonders if she’s trying to trick him, but then she mumbles again.

“Mhhh, tha’ tickles,” and she giggles. He kind of grimaces, feeling like he shouldn’t be hearing this. He hadn’t known she spoke in her sleep, it was sweet, but with the context right now, he thought him having this knowledge might not sit well with her.

“Y/N,” he says loudly, before clearing his throat. Her eyes shoot wide and she sits up, dropping the sheet she had been snuggling.

“Harry! Oh my god!”

“Meeting, remember?”

“Oh my god,” she glances around her surroundings, Harry still standing at her window. “What time is it?”

“1 pm. We said 1 right?”

“We did, I just...I don’t know what happened. Sorry, give me a second. I’m out of it.”

When she emerged from her room, dressed and ready for the day, Harry had brewed a pot of coffee with her machine that she really only had for guests.

“Sorry again,” she sits at her countertop, searching for her notebook in her bag.

“No worries,” then he leans across the countertop, “Seemed like you were in the middle of a nice dream.”

His brows are raised as she avoids his gaze. She flushes easily, “I- it was...just one of those usual dreams.”

“You have dreams about me often?”

“I didn’t say that!” Her eyes shoot up to meet his and he grins. He takes a sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“I heard you say ‘H’.”

She rolls her eyes, “That proves nothing.”

They both stare at each other for a minute, not talking or moving. Harry is simply grinning at her as she twitches her hand with her pen in it now. Her eyes are trying to figure out what Harry’s getting at, searching his expression for how he feels about knowing she dreams of him. She certainly wasn’t going to get into it with him, even if he did continue prodding.

“Alright,” she begins when he doesn’t seem to want to press it further. “Oh!” She jumps up, dropping her pen and forgetting about whatever else she was going to say. “Your jacket! And shirt! I cleaned the shirt and the jacket…” She runs out of the room to go to her front closet where she had hung up both the jacket and the shirt.

Returning, she holds them out to Harry and he rounds the countertop to look at them.

“Perfect shape,” he admires the spotless shirt and his beloved jacket. He puts them on the back of the chair that was next to them. “Won’t forget my jacket again.”

She smiles sheepishly, thinking back to Jeff’s conversation with her. Harry notices her change in demeanor and takes one of her hands. Her eyes flash up to his face and her body tenses, he feels it even in her hand.

“Have you gone on any social media since you’ve been home?” His eyes are wide as he runs his thumb over the back of her hand.

She softens slightly, “Oh yeah, after the first day I decided to check. Most were funny and sweet, their nasty comments didn't get to me.”

Her eyes are big on her face and Harry watches as her worries and concerns all wash through the swirling colors in them. He wants to take all of that pain away and just stare into her abyss forever.

“What did Jeff say exactly?” He knows that’s what she’s alluding to. Harry loved his manager, but when he had called him about the jacket incident he had been pretty short with Harry and hadn’t given much information on his chat with Y/N. The way she looked right now bothered him because ultimately Harry was in charge of Y/N in his employment of her and if Jeff had acted like her superior in a way that was harmful he’d be downright upset.

Her eyes grow glassy immediately and Harry’s anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. She tries to blink anything away, but fails.

“I don’t know why I’m crying, it wasn’t terrible. It’s just, all my life, I’ve had to work to be taken seriously because of who I am and I hate when I get talked down to by a man. Especially over a stupid fucking publicity thing for you. Like I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as a public figure where I have to worry about every goddamn thing I do messing up your image.” She pauses, taking a deep breath, realizing she’d gotten really worked up as she spoke. The tears running down her face more in anger than sadness. Harry watches on, letting her work through her thought process. “He was just so mean… for what?” She whispers finally.

“Oh god…darling,” Harry grips her hand more firmly. He wants to take her in his arms, but he’s not sure if that’s what’s best for her right now, so he just keeps holding her hand. She stares up at him, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Her eyes now tinted a light red.

“I’m sorry he spoke to you in that way. That isn’t his job at all, I’ll definitely talk to him since I didn’t have the full story before. He gets very worried about the media perception thing, especially right now with the album.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, blinking up at Harry. “I know your image is important, too, otherwise why the fuck would I be here? Right? I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal I borrowed the jacket.”

“In a perfect world my image wouldn’t matter at all,” Harry sighed, “Fame is a stupid, fickle thing musicians like me get stuck with.”

“Please, you love the attention,” she teases, poking at his chest. The sweatshirt he wore wrinkling under her touch.

“‘M serious,” he insists, “I’m saying it shouldn’t matter that you borrowed my jacket, but sadly it comes across to the rest of the world like I’m dating you.” He pokes her sternum in return.

“And that would be the end of the world?” she smiles, her tone still teasing, but that worry is back and swimming in her eyes again.

This time, though, Harry must not see it because he laughs and lets go of her hand. “For a lot of people, I think it might be.”

She bites at her lip and tries to contain the laugh that bubbles in her. He was right and as he wandered back into the kitchen for more coffee, she shook her head trying to rid herself of those pesky feelings that had been hoping for a different answer.

The next few weeks go off without a hitch. Harry’s outfits look incredible for the listening parties. Then for the Graham Norton Show, the Jingle Bell Ball, and the One Night Only at the Forum. Every single outfit is received with praise and everything seems to be coming up Harry Styles. Y/N has been traveling to most of his appearances, making sure everything is in order before he goes out. She’s always by his side before he walks out into the public eye. Taking his picture and saving it in the lookbook that keeps growing, smoothing over his lapels, either unbuttoning or buttoning a middle button when she thought he had too many or not enough undone for the look. Whatever it was, she was there for him.

Then, after his appearances, they would debrief. Debriefs really were just time that Harry carved out in his schedule to just be alone with Y/N. Sure, they talked about clothes, that’s how they had first connected, but it always turned to other ideas. They’d talk about his songs and she’d ask about the meanings that he wouldn’t share with the rest of the world. He’d happily tell her about it and they enjoyed that time together. There were stolen glances and lingering touches, but at the end of the day they were professionals who were friends. It wasn’t maybe what either of them wanted, but they weren’t unhappy.

Harry just got back from Los Angeles after filming for his Ellen show appearance and he was set to play the Bowery Ballroom tomorrow in London. After this there was going to be a lot of downtime on Harry’s schedule because of the holidays. He had marked out almost a whole month of time off, at least from appearances. They still had to start planning tour outfits and finalize the outfits for the events after the break. Right now, all she was focused on was getting Harry into the beautiful yellow Gucci suit that was a twin of the Watermelon Sugar suit he had worn on Saturday Night Live. Harry said he wanted to check the suit before tomorrow for some reason, so Y/N had made her way over.

She finished buttoning the sleeves of the jacket and stepped back to admire Harry once again. No matter what he wore he always looked marvelous in her eyes. She’d argue anyone could say that about Harry though. He could pull anything off and make it his own with barely any effort.

Today, his hair was disheveled and mused from his plane ride back into London. The flight from California to England was a rough one, even when you traveled in the type of luxury Harry did. Despite his tired body and eyes, the suit looked stunning on him. He wore it without shoes and she giggled when she saw his feet. His feet tattoos never failed to make her laugh and she had no explanation for why.

While Harry looked good in everything, there actually was something a little off with the suit right now. Normally, it hugged him just right to make him look perfectly muscled and defined, but it seemed to be hanging a little looser in some areas.

She tapped a finger to her lip, looking him over, unsure of what was off.

“Did you lose weight, H?”

“Huh?” He looks down at himself and somewhat notices the looser fit, but wasn’t quite sure if he had lost weight. “Don’t think so.”

She hums and steps closer to him, dropping her hands to tug at various parts of the suit, trying to figure out whether she should take anything in or leave it be.

“It’s probably all the travel I’ve been doin’. Can be draining me more than I realize.” He ponders as she continues to work silently over the suit.

Her hands travel beneath the suit and encircle his waist, almost as if she’s hugging him, but not really. His stomach flexes at the contact, her chest pressed softly against his. She grips a bit of the shirt from the back and then unfolds herself from him to look at the mirror. The shirt is now taut against his sternum and pectorals under the coat. She tilts her head, silently asking him his opinion.

“I think it’s fine the way it is, honestly.”

“Okay,” she nods and releases her hold on the shirt, hand slithering out from beneath his coat. He exhales deeply through his nose. “Make sure you eat properly tonight.” She says before beginning to pack up her things, done for the day. Harry begins to undress himself.

She turns back to face him as he hands her the jacket and shirt, her eyes run over the length of his torso, both for the sake of checking on his health and for other purely selfish reasons. All the tattoos still remained where they always were when she saw him like this. It never got old, his beautiful body. He didn’t even need clothes to look good. She blinks back to reality when the fabric comes in contact with her hand.

“Make sure you treat yourself this holiday season, you deserve it, H. And it seems like any weight you ever gain is muscle anyways, so you don’t exactly have to worry around the sweets table.”

Harry laughs heartily as he slips on his long sleeve shirt he was wearing. Then he starts on the pants as she turns away again to hang up the top parts of the suit.

Finally, she adds when he hands her the suit pants, “Just don’t want you overworking yourself, seriously, H.”

He looks at her as he buttons up his baggy blue jeans. The outfit he wore was just the first clean things he had grabbed when he had gotten home. His green eyes turn serious after the mirthfilled last few moments.

He crosses to her side as she puts away the clothes in the garment bag. His hand lands softly on her shoulder and she turns to him at his touch. “I know. You’re so good to me, darling. Always making sure I’m taking care of myself…”

It’s quiet. The soft breeze in the London air outside barely whispers around the house. Harry’s voice was laced with love, even if it wasn’t his intention. His ‘thank you’ was piercing into her heart and his touch wasn’t helping her stay focused. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt Harry take a step closer to her, his head ducking slightly down to her level. Then, right on the edge of her left temple and her hairline, his soft lips pressed against her skin. They brushed against her for just a moment, lingering for the respectful amount of time. But all she wanted was anything but respectful. She wanted his lips pressed against hers, she wanted his hands in her hair, yanking her deeply into him. She wanted to scream when he pulled away, but she didn’t. She smiled warmly up at Harry and her eyelashes fluttered on their own accord like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thank you,” he whispers again.

“What would you do without me?” She pushes at him playfully, shaking off her giddiness. Then she turns back to her work, scooping up all the items of hers on the table.

“Probably have to walk around naked, huh?”

“Oh my god!” She laughs and starts for the door, Harry follows behind to walk to her out to her car. “Maybe I should quit! People would love it.” She continues laughing as she hangs the garment in the passenger's seat side.

“No thank you, please,” Harry hurriedly says.

She turns to him as she closes the door and leans against the car. This was their routine right before she left, a final chat against the car before she drove off for the night.

“Tomorrow’s going to be amazing, H. It’s gonna be electric!” She scrunches her nose slightly at the pun about the venue as she smiles up at him.

He sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek, holding back a laugh. His eyes narrow at her, slyly. “Very funny.”

She only winks at him before pushing herself off of her car and walks to the driver’s side of the car.

He waves as she begins to pull out of the driveway and she flashes him a peace sign and a mouthed ‘Bye’ when she turns onto the street.

After the Bowery Ballroom show, Y/N barely sees Harry at the after party. She doesn’t worry about it too much. His management was going to have a holiday party next week before the little break began for the team. So, she knew she’d see him before she flew back to see her family for the holidays. She was going home for two weeks and then would be back for New Year’s and then would get back to work after that.

She saw Harry exactly twice after the show. First, she saw Harry right after the show and he was all sweaty and exhilarated. He tackled her in a bear hug with such strength she would have fallen back if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. When he pulled away, he placed two extremely slobbery kisses on her cheeks and she laughed, tipping her head back in pure bliss. Then he was pulled away by Jeff to change and get ready for the after party.

Jeff had apologized over text about the tone he had taken over the whole jacket thing, but only Harry had told him to. It was fine with Y/N, she told him that too, but she just never felt like being around him for very long if she could help it after that. That’s why she liked that most of her job entailed dealing with Harry directly. If she had to go through Jeff for everything she’d likely pull her hair out. He was still short with her at whole team meetings and not necessarily courteous when they were around each other casually. Like she said, it was fine, she just didn’t make it her business to be around Jeff.

The second time she saw Harry was around half past one am. She was pretty sure it was time for her to uber home and she wanted to say goodbye to Harry. Her well-liquored body stumbled around the big room. Deciding to take shots with the band had gotten her to where she was now and she wasn’t complaining she was happy. She was in a celebratory mood and wanted to see Harry right now. Tell him how much fun she had and how proud she was of him. How much she loved him… Hopefully she kept that part to herself.

“Harry!” She finally exclaims, coming upon a group of people surrounding the star himself. She ignored the rest of the people, likely stars too, but she really couldn’t care less. One of them tried to straighten up as if he was going to block her from Harry, feeling like she maybe wasn’t someone Harry wanted to see since they didn’t know her. No one seemed to ever recognize Y/N as Harry’s stylist when it mattered. Harry waved them off, a little drunk as well, but obviously recognizing Y/N.

“Darling!” He exclaims and raises his arms out to her. She grips onto him quickly and snuggles into him happily. With her still in his arms, he turns them from the prying eyes of the group he had been with.

She raises her head from his warm chest so that her lips are near his ear, “Congratulations, Mr. Styles.”

“Thanks, baby,” he purrs into her ear, his voice coarse and low, carrying over the music. She giggles at the nickname, her entire plan going out the metaphorical window.

Her fingers smooth up over the fabric on his chest, a nice short sleeve silk button down that was tucked into dark high waisted trousers - they’d picked it out last week. One of her fingers begins to trace around his collarbone after she reaches the opening of the shirt. His eyes flutter shut at the contact. They were so needy for each other. Each touch would coarse heat through them every time.

“I’m going…” She says after a moment of silence between them. The party was raging around them, most not paying any mind to the two of them off in their own world.

“Don’t go,” Harry practically begs. A hand flies up to pet over the top of her hair and she smiles even wider.

“It’s late and I’m tired,” she makes a face in response to Harry’s pout, “You have lots of people to entertain, Mr. Styles.” Her teeth capture her bottom lip as she stares at him intently.

He groans and pulls her closer. This time his lips brush right against her ear and she wants to shiver, but he keeps her in place. “If you keep calling me that, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

Her eyes widen but her hazy mind isn’t processing all of what is going on. She barely takes inventory of ‘baby’, for him to say she’s turning him on without actually saying it. Tomorrow Y/N would have to deal with that one.

She pulls back from him, creating space between their chests, but he still holds her waist close to him. She leans up and places a kiss on the corner of his lips. It’s technically supposed to be a kiss on the cheek but if she had moved her lips a millimeter to the right they would have been on Harry’s. This gesture has his grip tightening on her, but she pulls away.

“Goodnight!” She sings as she bounces out of sight, wiggling her fingers in a wave before completely being gone.

Harry sighs and runs a hand over his face, kind of in shock of the last five minutes. He had liked it. He just hadn’t expected it. When he turns his attention back to the group that was behind him, it’s not the same as it was before. Jeff looks at him with narrowed eyes and Harry’s eyes go wide and his grin widens as well.

Tonight is the management holiday party for Harry’s team. Y/N and Harry had seen each other two days after the Electric Ballroom to debrief, but mostly to get brunch. They didn’t talk about the little teases they shared at the after party. Both of them just assumed that the other probably didn’t remember and didn’t want to go through the trouble and embarrassment of recounting it. Alcohol has that effect of making you a little bolder than you actually are.

Brunch with Harry solidified Y/N’s thoughts on fame. Celebrity could be so strange, because there was the one day when she got photographed with just Harry’s jacket on and there was speculation of dating, but then she could go out to brunch with him and not be bothered at all. It made absolutely no sense.

Anyway, tonight there were no gifts, but Y/N had gotten Harry something even though he said he never needs anything. She hoped she’d be able to give it to him after they were walking back to their transportation since she wanted it to be a surprise and not have everyone know she gave him a gift. It wasn’t a big deal - or maybe it was - it was just an item she knew Harry had been fawning over. It was so him and she knew he’d probably end up buying it for himself eventually, but it felt nice to be able to give him something for once. Price didn’t matter. Still, she was a little nervous and tucked and re-tucked it several times in the back seat of her car before heading inside.

It was a restaurant his management had rented out for their party. She gave her name and headed inside. The lighting was overly dimmed and it smelled like expensive alcohol and delicious food. It was everything an A-list singer deserved as a celebration. She never could fully grasp that the Harry she had gotten to know as her friend was also the same Harry that the entire world was infatuated with, for good reason. He was charming in the best way, terribly sincere, insanely talented, and all around a good human being. She knew that, it just surprised her that everyone else knew it too. There was just that disconnect for her that she shared him with the rest of the world.

Her high heeled heels brought her to the backroom of the restaurant. They managed to shimmer even in the dim light. She had gone for winter chic with a sequin and mesh white dress, that looked like fresh snow with a cream and blue swirling design on the under layer so that her undergarments weren’t showing through. It was like a modern ice princess look that was finished with her heels that had sparkles on the entire back of them. Her hair was down and her makeup a little more done up than usual. She used a light blue eyeshadow to imitate ice and added some rhinestones on the inner parts of her eyes. She may have watched a Euphoria-inspired makeup look tutorial on youtube and she wasn’t afraid to admit that.

The scene she came upon was what she expected. Lots of men in suits and a good amount of women in power suits too. The people in any interesting clothes were Harry and his band. Some of the business people’s partners were dressed up more but it all wasn’t too exciting. Plus, Harry’s famous friends group hadn’t shown up yet. Y/N hid her disappointment easily, not surprised about the lack of flavor she saw in the style. She just repeated the mantra her mother had always told her: “You can never be overdressed, only underdressed.” It stuck with her always and made her go for those bolder styles when she needed to.

Harry was there, sipping on a glass of water. She figured he might not want to get started on drinking so early in the evening. Tonight didn’t feel like a drinking night for her either. After the last big party, she had woken up with a massive hangover and a few memories that she wished she hadn’t made. She wasn’t planning on repeating that series of events.

As she goes to grab a glass of water on the large table, she gets a tap on her shoulder. She spins.

“Happy Holidays, darling!”

Her eyes widen and her smile immediately grows. Harry grins back at her, his mouth open in the perfect winning smile of his and his eyes twinkling with happiness.

“Happy Holidays to you too, Mr.-” She stops herself, remembering back to the last party, “H.” She finishes firmly after clearing her throat. Harry’s grin turns to a wicked knowing smirk.

“I’m happy you came! I know you’re not super connected to all of the groups here, Harry Lambert is around somewhere though and I know he’s been wanting to talk with you about clothes.”

Harry watches as her eyes shine even brighter when he mentions the other stylist. It was true, Y/N didn’t really mesh with any of the groups that worked around Harry. The stylist kind of stood alone in regards to where she fit into his life, not the business part, not the band part, not the crew, and not the other celebrities. Harry Lambert and other fashion people didn’t always come to these events so it was seldom that Y/N had her own people to talk to. Not that mingling was hard for her, he just knew she didn’t like to do that as much so whenever another stylist or designer was there he always made sure to introduce them - if they weren’t already acquainted.

“That’s amazing! I haven’t seen him in ages… I’ll have to get his opinion on how I’ve been doing.”

Harry licks his lips as he laughs a little at her comment. She looked beautiful tonight and he wanted to tell her.

“Harry. What the hell are you wearing?” Her eyes flash as she takes in his appearance.

He looks down at himself and then back at her confused. They hadn’t picked the outfit out, but he thought it looked nice.

“Obviously not the suit! On your head?”

“Oh. It’s a gift from Mitch and Sarah.” He pauses to reach up to play with the headband sat on top of his curls. “It’s mistletoe and it seems like you’re standing beneath it. You know what that means,” he toys with it as he wiggles his eyebrows.

She scoffs sarcastically, looking to the side for a means of escape, “No way.”

“C’mon! It’s tradition!” He steps forward playfully and she places a hand on his chest.

“You can kiss my cheek.” She says finally and Harry looks at her disapprovingly.

He wags a finger at her with his free hand, “You’re the one under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me.”

“Okay that’s definitely not how this works! Now you don’t get any kiss at all, you cheeky bastard.”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re the one with coal in your stocking.”

“Haha.” Her eyes once again roll to the side as she pushes him back and he steps back like she actually had a strong push. Then they both actually laugh and she gives him a quick side hug with a whispered, “there”. Harry smiles down at her, but it falters slightly when she’s already pulling away. He wanted her at his side the entire night, but sadly that wasn’t reality.

She drags him around the restaurant in search of Harry Lambert since the party had started to grow and she needed his height to get her where she wanted to go. Maybe. Or maybe she just liked the way he held her hand to lead her through the crowd that was most definitely not dense enough for her to have to hold on to him to stay with him at all.

She sees more of Harry at this party. They have some good conversations about plans for the holidays and snickering about who was already too drunk even though it wasn’t even midnight. She can’t believe he keeps on the stupid headband all night, giving and receiving various types of kisses from every person he talks to. Some are kisses on the cheek, others are friendly smooches on the mouth. Thankfully all of them are those cute little pecks that friends always tend to share, otherwise Y/N might have had to excuse herself and leave early. Jealous little thing.

As the night dragged on, she began to question herself on that front. Why was she growing jealous when friends would kiss Harry. She could've kissed Harry. She practically did the other week. But now, after refusing him a mistletoe kiss and seeing everyone else do what she didn’t have the courage to do, she felt childish. Well, childish or not, she knew why she couldn’t kiss him. Kissing Harry wouldn’t be just a friend thing for her. It would mean a lot more and if it was just a friend thing for him she wouldn’t be sure if she could handle going on with their working relationship after. Her job was the most important thing in her life. Being a stylist, loving clothes, and working on personal designs for the future was her life. Giving up this prestigious of a job was out of the question. Maybe the idea of being with Harry had crossed her mind, but she didn’t know how it could ever be realistic. If they got together could she keep her job? Would she have to quit? And find a new one? There were too many unknowns for her to ever actually entertain it. That’s why they went to the edge so often, she always would back away and she was sure that if she didn’t, Harry would for her.

He knew her. He knew her passion, he watches it firsthand everyday they work together. Even when they’re not working he can see her mind forming different ideas just based off of the things she sees people wear on the streets. He watches her fingers fiddle over her phone, typing out notes for design ideas and screenshotting inspiration. So every time they went to the edge of changing their relationship, he knew he couldn’t push it because he never wanted to hurt her or her dreams in some way. She was too important to him to simply mess that up. Even if it hurt him.

So when Harry slides in the back of her car that night at 2 am because Y/N says she has something important to show him, he’s fully ready to stop their flirting from going any further. And when she tells him she needs to show him something, she has the most pure intentions when she pulls out the nicely wrapped box, its wrapping paper a swirling lavender pattern that’s really not festive at all, but she prefers it.

He looks between her and the box that she’s now placed in his lap. His green eyes flickering even in the darkness of the car, the city lights illuminating the backseat enough for them.

“You know I don’t need anything…” He fiddles with the skinny mesh ribbon neatly tied around the box.

She makes a little gesture, pushing him to open the present, “I know, but I also know you’ve been wanting this and you deserve it.”

He unwraps the paper to reveal a Gucci box and he rolls his eyes at her, but smiles genuinely as he lifts the top of the box off. It reveals a 1955 Horsebit Shoulder Bag in beautiful shiny black leather. It’s gorgeous.

“I can’t...I don’t know what to say,” Harry’s eyes are huge as his delicate hands ghost over the bag's details. He had been wanting it and he hadn’t gotten the courage to buy it yet. He liked purses, but sometimes he even had his doubts about what he could pull off.

His eyes go back to her and she smiles widely at him, all her teeth on display because she’s just that happy. “This is a really expensive bag, Y/N.”

“If it makes you feel better I can charge it as a wardrobe expense, but then it’s not really a gift from me,” She sighs at his unrelenting gaze.

“Thank you.” He touches at the bag again and then does a dance in his spot. “And don’t worry, I will always remember this as a gift from you. I love it.”

She smiles and leans over the box to look at the bag, admiring the beauty of it as well. “It’s pretty great.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hums and she raises her eyes, seeing his trained on her face. “You’re under the mistletoe again, darling,” he smirks.

Her breath stops once again, how could he do that to her so easily? Their eyes stay locked under the city lights. The fake mistletoe bobs above them still connected to the silly headband. It’s colorful leaves and fun stripes mock her when she flicks her gaze up to it for a moment. Then back to Harry. Harry who’s holding the gift she just gave him. Harry who looks beautiful tonight. Harry who is her favorite person in the world to spend time with.

Now. Now is when she pulls back from the ledge. This is when she takes a step back and stops herself. When Harry laughs it off. When she pushes him away. When they go about the rest of their day like that electricity hadn’t gone up either of their spines.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, she nods in agreement and then crashes her lips against Harry’s. It’s not like those friend kisses that had happened with him all night under that same mistletoe. It’s hard and hot and fast. Her lips are pressed to his for one searing moment and then she’s biting his lip, desperate to taste more of him. She had been longing for this for so long and now that she had it, she couldn’t let it go.

Harry’s hands fly to her cheeks as he pulls her closer, more into his lap. He pushes the box into the front area of the car blindly. The gift was completely forgotten. This was a far more important matter. Her lips were wet and plush and they tasted like the single Manhattan she had halfway through the night and vanilla lip gloss. When she bites his lip, he can’t hold back the moan inside his throat and she presses her tongue into his mouth quickly. He was her oasis and she had been traveling for months. He responds with similar vigor, enjoying the way her body presses to his in the backseat of this little car.

They kiss for as long as they can. Licking, sucking, and biting each other’s lips to taste as much as they can. But it’s just kissing. Neither of them work to travel anywhere else. Their lips are seemingly enough. Each press of their lips communicates what they had been longing for. It’s euphoric.

When the windows start to fog and her eyes open for a random moment, she realizes they need to cool whatever this is.

“H-Harry,” She gulps for a breath of air and she tries to get his attention. “I gotta get home.”

“Come back to my place,” he mumbles into her collarbone, happily licking over his love bite.

She laughs and swallows slowly, “That is definitely out of the question, I have a flight tomorrow.”

He removes his mouth from her and straightens up. His lips are even brighter pink than usual and perfectly puffy. His hair disheveled from her hands. She blushes at the thought.

“Right, forgot about that,” he opens the car door and they both slide out. They stand at her car, just like they usually did outside his house. However this time is quite different from most.

They sigh heavily, in unison. The winter air is cold in London. She shivers slightly and knows she can’t stay in his presence much longer.

“Merry Christmas, H.”

He leans down and places one last sweet kiss to her lips. She wrinkles her nose and smiles unabashedly.

“Merry Christmas, Darling.”

Harry and her don’t talk as much while she’s back home for the holidays. There’s no work to be discussed and while they parted on not necessarily bad terms, there was definitely a conversation that needed to be had between the two. Neither seemed to want to have that conversation over the phone, or worse, text. So for the next week and a half, Harry and Y/N exchanged texts of funny memes that reminded them of each other and odd anecdotes from family members that had made them laugh. Nothing really substantial, just small, I was thinking of you messages.

When she walked out of the luggage carousel at London Heathrow Airport, she expected to be getting in the queue for an uber. Instead, before she could cross the street to get to the queue even, a tall man stopped her. A tall, scruffy, extremely buff, extremely handsome, and extremely kissable man. Harry. It would be terribly strange if it was anyone else.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need a lift back to your flat?” His dark sunglasses cover his face and a big coat, scarf, and hat make him hardly recognizable. The curls sticking out from beneath the cute knit scarf are thankfully a dead give away for her. As well as his perfect drawling voice.

She shivered in the cold, her matching grey sweatpants and Treat People With Kindness sweatshirt had been warm enough on the flight, but proved inadequate for almost January in London. Yet, Harry’s presence brings a smile to her face.

“It’s good to see you, H.”

He laughs, his cover obviously blown. His arms encircle her body and she instantly melts into his embrace. His large coat easily fell around her and warmed her. His own natural body heat adds to her new found warmth as well.

“You too,” he murmured. His head buries into the crook of her neck, warming her cold skin.

He pulls back after a rather long embrace, realizing they’re still out on the sidewalk. He takes one step back and she visibly deflates at his absence, the cold once again surrounding her.

“Let’s get you home,” he grabs at the handle of her suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. The warmth returns and she grins, placated by his touch.

“So are you coming to my party tonight?” He inquires once he settles into the driver’s seat after putting her suitcase in the back.

She shifts in her seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself, still cold without any warmth from Harry or the car. “Don’t you suppose there was a reason why I chose to come home today?”

Harry’s ears perk at the use of home, never assuming Y/N viewed London as her home, still it made him smile.

As the car purrs to life, heat immediately seeping out of the seats and vents, Harry’s phone connects as well. NFWMB by Hozier begins to play softly and she glances at Harry again. The song was so sultry and soft, like expensive dark chocolate melting on your tongue. The mood in the car seemed to shift. Their eyes met, Harry’s green ones narrowing at her, trying to decipher the look she was giving to him.

Then he drove off, softly singing along to the words through the sleepy streets. It was surprisingly quiet out for the holidays, people choosing to lay low during the day so they could celebrate the changing of decades in full force tonight.

After the song ends, his eyes travel over to her again and she’s already looking at him. She had missed his face. Sure, he’d sent some silly selfies while she was gone. Mostly on Christmas Eve with his family when he had gotten drunk on mulled wine and eggnog and brandy. Still, in person, he was even more beautiful. The high cheek bones that glistened with a shine most makeup could only hope to produce. Full raspberry lips with stubble growing to frame above and below. The crinkles growing on his forehead and by his eyes that showed him aging with grace. The precious few moles that had gotten lucky enough to live on his face forever. His big green eyes that were consistently bright with interest and intellect, but deep and knowing despite his loving demeanor. She loved those big green eyes, they were just so big and she didn’t understand how no one took the same interest in them as her. All of it, just sitting there beside her. Don’t even get her started on the soul that inhabited the beautiful man beside her. She never would stop spiraling then.

“What?” He asks softly, the sounds of Paul McCartney during some era fading in.

She blinks, hazily in admirance, “Nothing,” she replies.

“What?” He insists, laughing slightly, the lips she loves so much widening in excitement.

“Just missed you.”

Her voice is quiet but strong, serious. A blush creeps up his neck, taking hold of his features.

“Missed you too,” his left hand reaches across the console to take hold of her hand that resided on her thigh. He squeezes her hand softly and they both smile at each other again.

“Don’t worry, I can get my stuff upstairs. I don’t want you being out in the cold any longer than you have to. I’ll see you tonight, H!” She pushes her body across the console and places a kiss on his cheek before jumping out of the car. Harry makes a half smile, knowing he can’t change her mind. He waves to her behind the window as she travels into her building.

“See you.” He says to himself before driving back to his home to finish up preparing for tonight’s festivities. The party was going to be more intimate than the Christmas party at the restaurant. Tonight was just Harry’s family and closest friend - the band, Jeff and his family, Y/N, and a few others.

The whole night Harry and Y/N are within a foot of each other, if not on top of each other. He never leaves her side nor does she his. They are tethered to one another. The longest they’re apart is when Harry gets them refills of Champagne and Y/N journeys to the restroom. They laugh and catch up.

As the night goes on, Harry begins to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she giggles and places her hand on his chest flirtily. Their interaction is a dance, bedroom eyes and low voices, lingering touches and suggestive lip bites.

When the countdown begins to grow closer, everyone refills their drinks and gathers in the center of Harry’s living room. They cheer and countdown to 2020. And of course, Y/N’s by Harry’s side as he begins the count. And when they get to ‘one’ and everyone’s saying “Happy New Year”, Harry and her are sharing a chaste peck to the lips that electrifies everything they had been saying to each other all night. She sighs into his mouth, but pulls away quickly, aware of their surroundings. No one particularly questions the kiss, either not paying attention or caring. Harry beams down at her and they enjoy the rest of the evening.

At around 1 am, the last of the guests stumble out of Harry’s homes and into waiting ubers and safe rides. Y/N lingers back, beginning to clean the discarded glassware and paper plates. Her and Harry are definitely tipsy, but they enjoy the cleaning work, making terrible jokes about New Year’s and commenting on what people wore tonight. When it’s relatively cleaned in the kitchen, Y/N wanders out to the living room and finds Harry reclined back on the couch.

“H,” She sticks out her foot and nudges him with her boot.

“C’mere,” he reaches out his hand to her, his coat discarded, leaving his arms bare with only a white tank top on.

She takes his hand hesitantly and is yanked on top of Harry in an instant. With a loud huff, she settles above him. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Shush,” his pointer finger goes over her lips, her eyes narrow at him, “Can you believe we’re seeing 2020?”

“Oh my god! I hate you!” She rolls her eyes at his pun and shakes herself from his hand around her waist. She stands up to walk away but he easily grasps her wrist and stops her, easily sitting himself up on the couch.

He looks at her and her annoyance, that wasn’t all too strong in the first place, dissipates. She sighs, “I should probably be heading home.”

“You should stay, it’s so late,” his hand rubbing over the skin on her wrist.

She bites her lip, contemplating the offer, he was right. “I’m really tired and we haven’t really talked, H.”

“But we-”

“Not about us. We’ve been skirting around it, flirting with each other all night, but we haven’t talked about what’s going on. I can’t stay if you expect something from me.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. That’s not why I want you to say,” Harry says earnestly, realizing quickly what she’s saying. “I’ve never expected anything from you. An offer to stay is just an offer to stay.”

“Okay,” she finally smiles and sits down beside Harry.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom, too. If that makes you more comfortable?”

“Oh...I don’t know if we have to take it that far. Plus, you’re like a personal heater and I get cold at night.”

Harry perks up, he had been feeling resigned that maybe she wasn't on the same page as him. He wanted to be with her all the time but also didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She just made him so happy.

“Great! Let’s get to bed then.” He pops up from the couch and brings her into his arms, “You know where all my clothes are, so you can just borrow whatever you want, and then I’m sure I have extra toothbrushes…”

She giggles into his side as she watches him ramble animatedly. Sometimes he was oh so bright, so joyful and carefree. A stark contrast from the quiet confidence he often exhibited for the public.

She woke up in the warm embrace of Harry. His whole bed smelled like him, vanilla mixed with spices of tobacco and sandalwood. It was delicious and she snuggled in deeper to the soft chest she laid against, breathing in his scent deeply.

They rested there for a long time. Harry makes his awakening known with a lingering kiss to her forehead. They both sigh in contentment, radiant in each other’s arms.

“What’s the plan today?” She ponders as Harry’s fingers trace patterns over her skin. He hums in thought.

“Wanna be with you…”

She laughs and looks up at him, “Me too, but we can’t lay around all day.”

“Well, we could.” Harry insists.

She laughs again and twists in his arms, settling so she’s facing him. She bites her lip as she thinks about something, scanning his face over and over.

“I’m gonna go home and get ready for the day. Let’s just explore the city and do some 2020 shopping. Who knows, maybe fashion’s changed since the last decade,” she grins.

Harry chuckles a little and pets at her hair, “I like the sound of that. And we can talk - about us.”

“Mmhmm.”

He tilts his head forward and meets her lips once again, savoring her taste. Each kiss makes him want more. She was good.

Harry lugs in the four heavy shopping bags into her flat, as she carries the single small bag from the chocolatier he had dragged them into. He presses her to the counter when he sets down the bags and begins to kiss her face all over. She giggles and places her hands on his shoulders, giving him a kiss to the lips before pulling away.

They had talked about what they wanted, what they saw in each other and how that fit into their work relationship and the rest of their lives. Harry would have to talk to Jeff, but more so as a by the way this is what I’m doing with my life, not an ask for permission. Y/N would continue as his stylist until the end of the tour cycle, but afterwards she’d go back to freelancing. They wanted to try to date and be as normal as possible. She told him how she didn’t love the fame or the celebrities. Sure she dealt with those things for work, but when they were off duty, she wanted to be regular. She wanted to go out on dates and make dinner on weekend nights. Harry had agreed, he wanted those things too and he understood her wish to keep work and their relationship separate. However, he’d made her concede to allowing kisses during work hours. She had laughed and said it was an easy term to agree to.

It was going to be a good thing. They were both giddy with excitement, the new year, and all the new things they had bought on their relationship high.

“Oh!” She pushed Harry further away from her and hurried into her room. He laughed and looked confusedly after her. “Wait there!” She called. Harry leaned against the back of her upholstered chair.

“Close your eyes!” She says before coming back into the room. Harry’s hands go over his eyes easily as he grins blindly in her direction.

“‘M waiting…”

“Open.”

Harry’s hands slip away and his green eyes blink open. In front of him stands Y/N holding up a hand knit brown sweater vest with horizontal red, cream and blue thin stripes along with the thicker brown stripes. Harry beams, reaching his hands out to take hold of it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for later, but I found it at this vintage place while I was home and I couldn’t wait any longer to show it to you.”

“Darling, this is gorgeous. I love it! But you shouldn’t have...”

“I thought you could wear it for Lizzo’s concert. I know you said you liked the other sweater vest, but this one is so-”

“You spoil me, seriously.” He cuts her off and laughs before pulling her back into him. Their lips collide in a searing kiss, Harry’s excitement over the new garment making him eager to show her how much he really loved it.

A small sigh escapes her lips as Harry presses into her. His tongue pushing into her mouth in a way that turns the sigh into a moan.

“Let me show you just how much I love it,” He murmurs against her lips, casting the garment onto the back of the chair he had previously been leaning on.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open and meeting his with adoration swelling in their depths. Then she allows him to back their intertwined bodies into her room.

Some apartment in New York a few months later:

“I knew it!”

“Huh?” Aidy lifts her head from the skit she was working on to look at her friend and coworker.

“That stylist...for Harry Styles,” Heidi shifts, sitting up and turning her phone to face Aidy, “She was seen out with him, getting lunch in London and then making out on a street corner. I bet they were dating back in November when he was on the show!”

Aidy laughs, thinking back to her conversation with the stylist that night of Harry’s show. The girl had been so in love that night and Harry had been smitten all week, describing her in the best way, praising her every decision, yearning for her even. And now they were actually together...she was happy for them.

“I don’t know about that...but they were head over Gucci heels for each other that’s for sure.”

Heidi and her scroll through the pictures on social media of the singer and his girlfriend.

“They probably are the best dressed couple I have ever seen,” Heidi grumbles.

“Now that is definitely accurate.”

taglist: @meredithhuntt @sovereigndeadlyperfect @marauderswhisperer @toribentleyva @girlboss99 @harryssunflxwer @loverofaccents @stephaniemalvie @mk15x @beanholland @stfxlou @loliismutt @pinkisawesome101 @stilljosiegrossie @kikisparadise18 @clementimee

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harrys stylist right?#harry styles x y/n

3K notes · View notes

luvnami · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - aa my first time writing for kny!! i hope you like it~ the title is a play on the word ‘pillars’ lol hopefully that makes sense... enjoy!! likes, comments and reblogs really help me a lot <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - @/amjustagirl (muacks)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - mention of food

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - what if the pillars were... cats?

𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐠𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐢

- the CHONKIEST fella you’ve ever seen in your entire life

- seriously, this cat feels like a brick when you try to pick him up

- yes, his fur is dense. no, he does not get any skinnier when he’s matted down with water

- a lovely, calm cat abandoned by his previous owners because they were moving out of the country

- he loves lazing in the sun and his brown fur turns golden in it!!!

- is a lap cat but doesn’t understand that your legs turn numb way too fast when he’s purring away like a little truck motor

- (his purrs are so deep……. put him on an asmr youtube channel already!!!!)

- once, you had a dream that you were drowning. you found him sleeping on your chest when you woke up gasping for air

- broke a flimsy cat tree once and is now terrified of heights

- a big baby :( kind of needy, always welcomes you at the door when you come home with chirps and gets frisky when you don’t return till late

𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢

- …

- the quiet cat that seems like it might murder you in your sleep

- you adopted him together with kanroji because he simply wouldn’t leave her side and wouldn’t leave your side so… yeah

- this cat HATED you at first

- like… he even refused to eat the food that you tried to give him :/// you had to lure him out with some churu

- you once woke up in the middle of the night because you were thirsty and found two glowy things at your bedroom door

- yeah, he was staring at you while you slept

- you didn’t dare to get a glass of water and just went back to sleep

- dark gray short fur with heterochromia! you think that he might be kanroji’s sibling but the centre said that they came in at different times

- he goes crazy for catnip oh my goodness

- he rolls himself in it and purrs so LOUD……….. ok iguro……..

𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐢

- so! affectionate!

- you adopted her from a local centre… seriously, who abandoned this pretty baby!!!!!!!

- (iguro insisted on being adopted as well. they come in a pair, do not separate.)

- is a white short fur with heterochromia <333 she looks so magical omg

- when you visited the adoption centre, she wouldn’t stop meowing and curling herself around your legs

- how could you not take her home!!!!!

- she tries to steal all kinds of food (even yours). please don’t own any plants, she will try to chomp them as well

- one time you came back home and heard some loud rustling from the door. you were terrified that it was a thief but when you switched on the lights, the cat had somehow managed to raid your pantry :/

- loves loves loves cuddles!! will even let you touch her soft tummy and play with her toe beans (only for a while though!)

- you wish she’d stop jumping around and getting into the hardest to reach spots…….

- loves trying out new collars, toys and even outfits!

- grooms iguro a lot and loves playing with him <3

𝐤𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐮

- y’all know the cats that play nice when you’re petting them and then bite your hand immediately after… yeah

- the childhood cat that gives you trauma after it scratched you one too many times

- but very lovable and social!! loves meeting new people and then giving you a smug look as she crawls into their lap

- is not tempted by treats… she will do a trick when she wants to

- siamese, brown to white with a tail that flicks too much when she’s irritated

- this cat pushes your glass of water off of the table while looking you in the eye

- will lay herself over your keyboard when you’re trying to work

- has and will chew up your socks again

- scratches your furniture even after you sprayed it with that ‘no-scratch’ spray

- HOWEVER she will occasionally let you scritch her chin when she feels amiable…….

- tries to groom you sometimes

- jumps around too much for her (and your) own good. has caused the shattering of many things and now you cannot place fragile objects on shelves

𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨

- the most!! active and happy tabby cat you’ve ever seen!!!!!

- meow! meow meow meow!

- man i have no idea what you’re saying rengoku but you look happy and adorable so have a treat

- probably a family cat that your dad brought back home (much to mom’s dismay) but he’s part of the family now

- VERY vocal at night no matter how much you try to tire him out in the day… rip

- will wake you up because! human! it is night time and my water bowl is an inch out of place!

- has the most gorgeous coat ever… really. it’s an envy for many cat owners

- he struts around with his head in the air and demands many pets from you while yowling and pawing your leg

- loves outdoor walks, actually. will attack a dog on sight if given the chance so please keep him on a leash

- give him little booties to keep his paws clean!!!!!!!! he fell over the first time you put them on but now he’s used to it and he looks so cute omg

- very nurturing!! takes to other cats very easily and is a joy to have around if you’re fostering other animals (besides dogs)

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢

- this bastard cat

- hisses if you pat him for too long

- hisses if you don’t give him attention

- hisses while you’re pouring out his food and will NOT hesitate to bite you

- if you touch his paw pads, you can goodbye to your fingers

- i’m thinking……. gray shorthair with green eyes!

- probably a stray cat that you took in (which came with a lot of coaxing, snacks and wrangling) who got into one too many fights

- he took a while to get used to staying indoors, often hiding in obscure places and was oddly possessive of your sofa

- no, he did not let you sit on it for a whole month

- he’s very protective and territorial! when he’s feeling like it, he’ll rub against you and get into your closet to curl up and scent your clothes (getting fur all over them)

- once, when you had some friends over, you had to lock him in your bedroom because he wouldn’t stop snarling at them

- no one dares to come over to your place after that

- (he’s secretly addicted to butt pats)

𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨

- black shorthair that literally appeared in your house one day

- you have no idea where he came from but you let him stay for a few days and he’s never left since then

- sometimes, he wanders outside (while chasing a butterfly or something...) but always comes back in time for dinner

- has the clearest emerald eyes!!

- he’s so quiet oh my goodness. you swear you’ve never heard him meow or chirp or purr once………. you think he might be a ghost cat sometimes

- moves around silently too. has scared you on more than one occasion when you turned around and found him staring at you, or felt something furry brush against your leg while you weren’t expecting it

- doesn’t initiate affection much but will let you pet and smother him with love!! he kinda just… chills lol

- loves snuggling in the warmest places! sometimes you’ll come home and find a suspicious bump under your covers… lift it and you might find a friend within <3

- hates hate hates collars

- will literally bat at you if you ever try to put one on him

𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮

- loves water so much its crazy

- you have to lock your bathroom door because he’s somehow managed to figure out how to open the doors in your house

- like, he’ll actually jump into the shower with you

- you brought him home one day when you found him as a kitten in the rain outside :c (ur the hot anime character now)

- he’s really quiet! rarely meows and prefers to headbutt you (which can be slightly inconvenient, like that one time you were pouring coffee and nearly scalded the both of you)

- his fur is always messy. sticks up everywhere no matter how much you try to brush it

- black fur of medium length and thickness!!! puffs up SO MUCH when winter comes though

- it’s insane, he looks like a ball of soot

- exceptionally fast. when you try to play fetch with him, all you’ll see is a black blur darting back and forth

- easily scared

- you have to be careful when rounding corners or petting him because if he doesn’t expect it he’ll jump like five feet in the air

𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧

- if you do not change his collars or outfits at least once a week or brush him daily he will start yowling

- you decided to adopt him after your neighbour moved to an apartment that didn’t allow cats

- unfortunately, your neighbour was also the most outrageously extravagant person you’ve ever met and spoiled uzui too much

- a good chunk of your monthly spending goes to the cat

- will not eat cheap cat food (how can he tell the difference…?)

- occasionally buries himself in the back of your closet because it’s dark and smells like you but please help me i’m entangled in a scarf and can’t get out!

- loves posing for photographs and being cooed over!! if you run an instagram account for him you’ll be sure to get popular really quickly

- he just… knows the camera is there lol

- hates having his nails clipped omg

- he will run around the house just to escape you and will only be bribed by a fancy new outfit or a churu

190 notes · View notes

fictionalabyss · 3 years

Text

Mated : You were dead.

Pairings : Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader (mentioned), Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

Word count : 2,834

Written for : @spnabobingo

Square : Multiple Alpha claims

Warning : Angst ahead! a/b/o dynamics, character death talked about, depression, sickness mentioned, guilt, pissed Dean, defensive Sam, brothers be brothers.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

The final part of Mated.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

The knock on your door had been unexpected, but not as unexpected as what you found waiting on the other side.

Sam. You hadn't seen him in months, but while him being there surprised you, it wasn't what made you step back in shock. It was the man standing a half step closer than he was. The man smiling at you with so much love and adoration. "Hey, baby."

"Dean?" You wanted to run. Run towards him, run away. He couldn't be real, he couldn't be here he was DEAD. He was dead, for months. This had to be a trick, a monster, or… you looked to Sam who just gave you a nod and tilted his head to his brother. His way of assuring you it was Dean.

As soon as his arms opened to you, you ran to them, throwing yourself at him and he chuckled as he caught you. You latched on, holding him tight, terrified if you let go he'd vanish, and you cried against him. The feel of him against you again, the way your body reacted to him, you thought it was lost to you forever. "It's okay, baby. I'm home. I'm not going anywhere ever again. I’m home.” As you cried against him, Dean ducked his face into you, his nose brushing across the mark he’d left on your skin long ago, and he breathed in deep.

The action had your eyes opening and from over his shoulder seeing Sam, who stood quiet and patiently behind him. Sam’s eyes met yours, but whatever he was feeling, he kept it hidden away. You let your eyes fall shut again and tucked your nose into Dean before bringing your feet back to the ground and removing yourself from his grasp.

“You smell a little different. I wasn’t gone that long, was I?” he teased as he started past you and into the house. You swallowed. “What?”

“You were dead.” you whispered, closing the door after Sam headed in and towards the kitchen.

“Yeah I know.” Dean watched you for a minute as you heard cupboards open then close. “Wait… You meet someone else?”

“You were dead.” tears filled your eyes all over again, and you saw how his jaw ticked.

“I came back.” he snapped. “I came back to you!” he pointed at you as he stepped closer. “Who is he?” he growled. “Another fuckin’ Alpha?”

You were biting your bottom lip and looking down. He yanked at the collar of your shirt, giving him a good look at his mark still intact, and that made him furrow his brow until he saw how you tried to hide the other side of your neck from him. He wasn’t harsh, just.. forceful as he exposed the other side and took in another mark.

“You were dead.” you cried, afraid to look up at him.

“Barely in the grave by the looks of the claim.” he snapped, moving away from you with a look of disgust. “Who the fuck is he? I don’t fucking smell another alpha here. Just me and-” He stopped when he noticed you were looking past him. Dean turned and saw Sam at the end of the hall, glass of amber liquid in his hand as he watched the two of you. “You?” Dean snarled.

“Dean-” Sam started, putting his hands up, but Dean was quick to rush forward, grabbing his brother’s collar and slamming his back to the wall. The glass fell from his hand, spilling whiskey across the runner as the glass rolled to a stop about a foot from where it dropped.

“You fucking claimed her!?”

You rushed forward, trying to pull him off his brother. “Dean, stop!”

“What’d you do, Sammy? Tell her I was dead and take her in the next breath?” Sam didn’t answer, just looked at his brother with an equally hard look.

“Dean stop!” When pulling at him didn’t help, you tried to work your way between them, tried to push him off. Your heart was being pulled apart, wanting to protect Sam, but also Dean. You needed him to stop, needed him to understand. “It’s not his fault, Dean! Please!”

His hard glare was now on you as you stood between them, a few inches of space between you and either brother, but you stood your ground despite the look he gave you. “So, what? You went to him?”

“It’s not-”

Dean cut you off with a scoff. “Of course you did. You always wanted him.” he gestured to Sam, a cutting glare sent his way with the motion of his hand. “What the fuck was I? Just a bed warmer until-”

“You were dead!” you shoved at his chest. “You were fucking dead! You were all I had and you were dead!”

“Clearly not all you had. You had Sam.” he spat, and you flinched.

“No, I didn’t. Sam left. He told me you died, didn’t tell me where or how or- and then he fucking left. You were dead, Dean. I didn’t have a service or grave where I could go, I didn’t have a body to cry over I just.. I was alone. I-”

“She was dying.” Sam piped up from behind you when it was obvious that you couldn’t talk through the tears anymore. “I got a message one day, she’s crying. Only reason I came was because she said-”

“Funkytown.” you whispered. “You told me if anything happened, if anything went wrong, call Sam and say Funkytown. I did..” you shoulders were shaking with how hard you cried. “I did. I did what you told me to do.”

“What the fuck do you mean she was dying?” Dean demanded

“When I got here, you could smell it. Whole fucking house reeked of it.” When Sam put a comforting hand on your shoulder, Dean's lip curled up with a low growl, but Sam’s hand didn’t move. “I got her cleaned up, got her in a clean bed, called in a doctor.” Dean looked down at you, but you were looking down as you cried. “He said she had 48 hours at best.”

“For what? What was wrong?”

“To find a mate.” you whispered. “Heat was so bad. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get out of bed, hadn’t eaten for days..”

“So you make her fucking eat. You take care of her.”

“I did.” Sam pointed out, fingers going from your shoulder to trace over the claiming mark he’d left on you. “Doctor said she needed a mate for her best chance of survival. So I gave her one.”

“I’m sorry.” you cried. “I’m sorry I wasn't strong enough.”

“Then why the fuck were you with some other bitch in a motel room?” Dean's tone was hard and threatening. “You have a mate at home, my fucking mate at home, and you go off to fuck someone else?”

“Because I’m not you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“She didn’t fucking want me, Dean! She begged me to let her die, then she begged me to save her. And afterwards? She cried. She turned away from me and she fucking cried and I could see the guilt eating at her because I’m not you. So as soon as I knew she was well enough, I left. Why the fuck would I stay?”

Deans hand shot over your shoulder grabbing at Sam’s collar again and slamming his back against the wall once more, sandwiching you tighter between them. “Because you fucking claimed her!” Dean screamed at him. “You’re her alpha you piece of shit! You stay and take care of her!”

“Dean-” you tried to push him back, but you couldn’t, you weren’t strong enough.

“I told you! I told you to fucking take care of her and you left her! Twice! What the fuck, Sam!”

“Stop! Please!”

“You don’t fucking deserve her.” Dean spat. “You never did. You treated her like shit in college, you treated her like shit when you found out I knew her, and you treated her like shit after I died. I thought you had grown up, I thought I could fucking trust you. I thought she meant something to you.”

“She does! Do you think I’d fucking claim her if she didn’t!?” Sam snapped back, getting in Deans face just as much as his brother was getting in his. “I love her!” Your head snapped to look up at him over your shoulder in surprise. “Dying or not, Dean, if she didn’t fucking mean something to me I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Then why’d you go?” you whispered. “Why’d I wake up to you gone?”

“Like I said, I’m not Dean.” He pushed Dean away from him before slipping out from behind you and walking out.

You stood there, stunned and unsure what to do. A part of you wanted to run to Sam, hold him, soothe him, tell him it would be okay. But the other part? The other part had Dean back. It wanted to be in his arms and to never let him go again. “I don’t.. I don’t know what to do..” Dean was running a hand through his hair, teeth biting into his bottom lip with anger as he paced in the hall.

“Go to your mate.” Dean answered, not bothering to look over at you.

“Which one?” That made him turn. “The one I couldn’t live without, that I finally have back? Or the one who refused to let me die? Who do I comfort, Dean? Who do I hold and promise that everything will be okay? Because right now, my heart is being ripped in two and it hurts so fucking bad.”

Dean just shook his head, a slight roll to his eyes as he turned away. He needed to get his thoughts together, he needed to to process what the fuck was happening. He’d been so happy to come back home to you, and now he felt like he didn’t have that home anymore. Like Sam had snatched it out from under him.

“Maybe he should have just let me die.” Dean spun around, eyes wide. “If I was dead, I wouldn’t have disappointed you and you wouldn’t be fighting with your brother.” You turned and quietly walked away, Dean watching you go.

Dean stared at the space long after you were gone, and then he looked over to the front door Sam and stormed out of, then down to the glass still laying on it’s side on the carpet. As pissed as he was, as much as he wanted to tear his brother apart for touching his mate, Dean only had two important people left in his life. He had to somehow live with what had been done.

With a sigh, Dean started for the door first and was surprised to see Sam just sitting on the curb outside. “Here to punch my teeth in? Cuz I won’t let you do it easy, Dean.”

“No.” Dean answered, dropping to sit next to his brother. “Here to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not letting her die.” Dean’s head fell forward and he looked down at the ground. His hands were clasped, forearms on his knees and he shifted his hands a few times before he spoke again. “I’m pissed, Sam. I’m pissed you claimed her, she was mine. But I can’t be mad at you for saving her. There was no other way?” he looked to Sam who shook his head.

“No. I wasn’t even sure that would work. But I had to try.”

Dean nodded and looked down again. “What do we do here, Sammy?”

“She wants you.” Sam licked his lips and looked out across the street. “So it goes back to the way it was.”

“Can it, though? She’s your omega, Sam. I wanted to rip your throat out for touching her. You telling me you won’t feel the same?”

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Sam looked to his brother again, the two of them watching each other for a minute.

“There’s a choice.”

“She doesn’t want me, Dean.”

“She does.” Dean nodded, looking away from his brother, part of him hated that he was about to admit this. It could be the end for him. “She wanted to chase after you, comfort you and tell you everything would be okay.”

“But she didn’t.”

“Because she doesn’t want to hurt me. She’s being pulled two ways, Sammy. I hate that it’s hurting her, I hate that I’m hurting her.” Dean was quiet for a moment. “She-” Sam watched him, waiting. Dean licked his lips, tilted his head and sighed. “She said maybe you shouldn’t have saved her.”

“What?”

“That if she was dead we wouldn’t be fighting.”

“We’re brothers. Brothers fight.”

“Mhm.” Dean nodded. “She thinks she disappointed me.”

“I told you the guilt was eating at her.” Sam mumbled. “I couldn’t stand seeing that look in her eyes.”

“So what do we do, Sammy? Me and you, I mean. Can we get past this?”

“I don’t know, Dean. Can we?”

There was a knock on your door, but you didn’t say anything. You sat on the floor, back against your bed, knees tucked into your chest as you cried. The door gently opened, and soon someone was walking in. “I’m sorry.” You knew who it was before he even sat on the floor in front of you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dean reached out and pulled you against this chest. “It’s going to be okay.” he soothed.

“How can it? You’re brothers, and I-”

“You lived.” he cut you off, a hand rubbing up and down your back. “You did what it took to live. I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re disappointed. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“I’m not. I promise, I’m not. I’m sorry, okay.” he pulled back just enough to get you to look up at him. “I’m sorry, too. I reacted badly, it was just a lot to take in. I was so fucking happy to be getting back home to you.” he smiled softly at you. “You were right, I was dead. I shouldn’t have held that against you. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do.” a fresh round of tears stung at your eyes, and when one fell, Dean wiped it away with his thumb.

“We’ll figure it out.” Dean promised.

“The three of us.” You turned your head to look to the door and found Sam standing and leaning on the frame. “And you’re right. I do kind of want to rip your throat out for touching her. But just a little.” he teased with a smile.

“I don’t.. I don’t understand.” you looked to Dean again.

“I’m not letting you go.” Dean promised. “You’re my mate and I’m never letting you go. But you’re his, too. We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

You looked back to Sam who gave you a shrug. “It’ll take some time to figure out, but.. It’s not impossible. You aren’t the first Omega to have multiple claims.”

“We had a little chat before I came up.” Dean leaned his forehead against your temple and breathed you in. “I missed you.” he whispered out with his breath. “If I need to accept Sam to keep you, I’ll do it. I’d do anything.”

You nodded with a soft smile before addressing Sam again. “What about the girl you were with?” you asked, hoping he didn’t hear the bite in the words. The truth was, even with him having abandoned you more than once, the mere idea of him with another woman made you want to rip someone apart, he was your mate, your alpha.

“No one important.” Sam brushed it off. “I’ll let her down easy.”

Something in you told you there was more to it, much more to it, but Sam wasn’t saying anything else. “What do we do now, then?”

“How about dinner? I’m fucking starving.” Dean chuckled. “Then,” he whispered into your ear, “I’m going to eat you.”

Sam growled at that, and Dean’s eyes shot to his brother, both of them glaring daggers at each other. “Guys, come on.” you groaned, pulling yourself from Dean’s lap and standing. Dean was quick to follow, putting you once again stuck between the brothers and their anger. “How about Dean gets me while I get Sam. Then we switch.”

“Deal.” Sam answered, eyes still watching his brother, waiting for his answer.

“Only if I get two rounds.”

“Dean!” You shot him a look of disbelief. You were trying to keep them from killing each other and he seemed to be going out of his way to provoke Sam.

“What!? I was dead! Don’t I deserve a little extra love?” he pouted. And at that exact moment, you discovered where Sam had learned that puppy dog look he always used to get his way back in college. You rolled your eyes and his pout turned into a shit eating grin.

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging : Mated - @vicmc624

Dean - @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @evyiione @karikatz12481 @idksupernatural @deandreamernp

Sam - @evyiione @hoboal87

SPN - @sandlee44 @just-another-busy-fangirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @deanandsamsbitch @deans-baby-momma @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh @ksgeekgirl @hobby27 @maddiepants @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn @fandom-princess-forevermore @kalesrebellion @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted @kazkingdom @babypink224221 @emoryhemsworth @ilovefanfic86 @pie-with-hunters @anaelsbrunette @lazinessisalliknow @feelmyroarrrr @letsdisneythings @cdwmtjb8 @notyourtypicalrose @xostephanie @ilovedeanspie @defenderrosetyler @amandamdiehl

214 notes · View notes

trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

Day 23: Trick Or Treat!

Roman and Remus are going Trick or Treating! They stop at different side's doors, and get lots of treats! And they even have a trick of their own planned...

This fanfic was suggested by @gamequeenanya

Someone opened the door.

“Trick Or Treat!” The kids called.

“Gimme candy please!” Remus called.

Patton giggled and smiled excitedly. “I love your costumes! A greek God, and a mummy! How cute!” Patton reacted.

“I’m a dead king!” Remus declared. “I smell like rotten flesh!” Remus declared.

“Oh peee-ewwww! That sounds nasty!” Patton reacted. “And I’m Hercules! The coolest god ever!” Roman declared.

“Here you go boys!” Patton told them, handing them a big chocolate bar each. “Have fun!”

“Oh! Wait!” Remus called.

Patton turned around. “Yes kiddo’s?” Patton asked.

“We have a trick of our own!” Roman told him.

Patton gasped and placed his hands on his hips. “And what would that be?” Patton asked.

“This!” Remus pulled out a feather, while Roman pulled out a hairbrush.

Patton raised an eyebrow. “I...I’m afraid I don’t quite- OHNO-” Patton yelped as he was tackled to the floor by two 10 year old kids.

“Tickle tickle!” Roman and Remus started using the feather and the hairbrush to tickle Patton’s belly and feet.

“WAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahaha! BOhohoHOHOHOYS!” Patton begged.

“Tickle tickle tickle, Patty!” Roman called.

“Prepare for your doom!” Remus teased.

“NOHOHOhohoHOHohohoho!” Patton pleaded. “IHIHIhihihihi’m tohohoho tihihihicklihihiHIHIHIHISH!”

“Awww, poor Patty!” Roman teased.

“Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!” Remus teased more.

“NOHOHOHO TEHEHEHEASIHIHING!” Patton begged.

“Yes teasing!” Roman declared.

“That’s the greatest part of the tickle attack!” Remus added.

“IHIHIT’S NAHAHAHAHAT!” Patton laughed.

“Is too!” Roman and Remus both said at the same time.

[A few minutes later:]

“Someone opened the door.

“Trick or treat!” Roman and Remus both called.

“Well greetings Mr. Mummy and Mr. Greek God.” Logan replied.

“We want tricks and we want treat! Give me something good to eat!” Remus called.

“Pleeeeeaaaase?” Roman begged.

“Very well. I have M&M’s. Would those suffice?” Logan asked.

“YES!” They both said at the same time. Both boys watched with utmost excitement as the M&M’s were dropped into their bags. “Thank you!” They both said.

“And one more thing:” Roman called.

“Yes?” Logan asked.

Roman and Remus both pulled out toothbrushes.

“Ah, a little reminder to always brush my teeth! I always brush my te-HEY!” Logan was tackled down and tickled on the toes with the toothbrushes.

“TOE BRUSHING LESSON!” Roman and Remus declared.

“First, you brush the big toe!” Roman explained.

“Brush it really good!” Remus declared.

“You brush the bottom, the top and in between the big toe and the 2nd toe!” Roman added.

Logan wheezed and bursted out laughing as he struggled to listen to their big rant on ‘toe-brushing’.

“You brush in between all the crevices!” Roman added.

“Brush them really good!” Remus added.

“Then you hold the toes back…” Roman held back the toes…

“And SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH!” Remus declared, brushing right under the vulnerable toes.

“NOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Logan laughed hysterically.

[A few minutes later]

Someone opened the door. “Trick or treat!” Remus and Roman said at the same time.

“Ah...I see.” Virgil replied. “Sorry, I got nothing.” Virgil told him and almost closed the door on them.

“Wait!” Remus begged, pushing himself inside. “You promised you’d do it this year!” Remus whined.

“Anxious people are not good at keeping promises.” Virgil told him.

“Roman!” Remus called. “Let’s get him.”

Roman pushed the door open and revealed a feather boa. “Way ahead of you Ree!” Roman replied.

“Wait, what are you boys- GAH!” Virgil screeched as Remus and Roman tackled the anxious side down to the ground. “NO! What are you planning with that thing?!” Virgil asked.

Roman fished the feather under Virgil’s neck and pulled it through. “Okay!” Remus declared. The boys sat on his arms and started seesawing the feather boa across his neck.

“HEEEVE!” Roman yelled, pulling on the feather boa.

“HOOO!” Remus yelled back, pulling his side of the feather boa out. “NAHAHAHAhahaha! LEHEhehehehet mehehehe gohohohoho!”

“Nope!” Remus replied.

“HEEEEVE!” Roman yelled, pulling the feather boa through.

“HOOOOO!” Remus yelled too, Pulling his side of the feather boa through.

“EEEEhehehehehehe! Ihihihi’m sohohoho gehehehetihihing yohohohou bohohoys fohohor thihihihis!” Virgil laughed.

“We’re not even tickling you that hard!” Roman told him.

“True!” Remus mentioned.

“HEEEEVE!” Roman yelled.

“HOOOOO!” Remus yelled as well.

[ A few minutes later:]

Someone opened the door: “Trick or Treat!”

“Aaaah, I’m so scared!” Janus faked. “A mummy?! All the way from the pyramids?! How peculiar!” Janus reacted. “And a greek god? A real greek god?!” Janus reacted.

Remus and Roman both laughed at this. “Nooohohoho silly! It’s just us!” Roman told him.

“Just you? Does that mean you were a mummy and a god this whole time!?” Janus asked, gasping all over again. “NOOO!” Roman and Remus yelled and laughed.

“Ohhh, phew. Thank goodness! I’m not being cursed.

“Do you have a treat for us?” Remus asked.

Janus grabbed something and hid it behind his back. “Noooooo…”

Remus giggled and held out the pillow case. “Treat please!” Janus scoffed dramatically and smiled as he gave them the treats. The treats were chip bags and microwavable popcorn.

“Thank you!” Roman declared.

“Thank you so much!” Remus said happily.

“You’re welcome.” Janus told them.

“But one more thing:” Remus asked.

“Another popcorn bag?” Janus asked.

“No.” Remus replied.

“Alright. What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus and Roman grabbed out a large feather and a makeup brushes.

“Hm?” He hummed, confused.

But the moment he started to understand what was going on, Janus was tackled to the floor. “UH OH!” Janus yelled, actually surprised this time.

“Tickle tickle!” Roman declared as he started tickling his scales with the makeup brushes. “Remus, got the belly button?” Roman asked.

“You betcha!” Remus replied.

“NOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHA! Ihihihit TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!” Janus laughed.

“Really? It tickles? Who would’ve guessed?” Remus teased.

“ME!” Roman replied to Remus’s question.

“True!” Remus replied.

“STAHAHAHAP TIHIHIHICKLIHIHIHING MEHEHEHE!” Janus ordered.

“No! We’ve done this to all the people we trick or treated with.” Remus admitted.

“Remus!” Roman whined.

“What? It’s true!” Remus reacted.

A while later, all 4 of the boys got their sweet, sweet revenge on the boys.

Happy Tickly Halloween, everyone!

#kid roman #kid remus #tickletober 2021 #ticklefic #ler!roman #ler!remus #lee!patton #lee!logan #lee!virgil #lee!janus

28 notes · View notes

bloodypapercut · 4 years

Text

s.b. headcanons

hellooo, me again! enjoy angels and treat urself today <3

word count: 1.9k

-he will do anything to pull you away from whatever it is you’re doing whenever he wants attention

“COME TO MY DORM OR I’LL LIGHT A BUNCH OF CANDLES AND FALL ASLEEP!” “no don’t burn down hogwarts sirius, sod off, i need to study.” “don’t you love me??” “yes, now that that’s settled, go away.” “you’re breaking my heart darling.” he’ll pout throwing a hand over his heart while leaning on you “you’re breaking your own heart. just wait a bit longer, you big baby.” “nope, that’s it, i’m doing it! tata now!” “sirius no-!” “bye y/nnnn goodnight, unless you decide to graciously visit me in bed” “you’re really gonna burn down hogwarts because i won’t cuddle you?” “you mean YOU'RE going to burn down hogwarts because you refuse to stop studying and cuddle me.” “it does work like that!! you’re so childish.” “i’d prefer the term determined if you will.” “sirius- wait no don’t go upst- and he’s gone,” *waits a bit* *dashes upstairs and barges into the room* *sees there are no candles lit* “i’m offended, you thought i’d actually do it, but since you’re here let’s cuddle.”

-whenever he’s hanging around the other marauders on the field he’ll see random flowers and start picking them, ignoring their teasing while flipping them off “sirius has gone soft!!!!” “sod off wankers at least i have someone.” “i do have someone!” “lily hates you james.” “for now you twat.”

-he can’t wait to give you the flowers “oh- thank you? for the um..weeds?” “weeds? they’re flowers, look, petals and all.” he’ll dramatically pick a petal of a flower and blow it into the air, sighing as it slowly falls to the ground “nooo don’t make that face, you know i love them, they’re pretty.” you’ll open your arms for him and he’ll gladly reciprocate, burying his face between your shoulder and neck ”yeah like me.” he’d mutter in a childish voice

-“did you just lick my lips?” “your chapstick tastes good”

-whenever he’s drinking something and someone makes him laugh you can expect him to spray everywhere

-if you’re putting on lipstick he’ll ask you to kiss him on the cheek because he wants people to see, then he’ll ask to use the lipstick too because he wants you to have one as well

-every time you come out of the bathroom after getting dressed, without fail he’ll hype you up whether you’re wearing your uniform or a normal outfit or your sleeping clothes. he’ll narrate you as you walk out the room, asking you to do your model walk.

-you’ll dress each other sometimes, he usually picks fishnets and a skirt with one of his shirts and you’ll get him to dress like henry winter from the secret history (sirius in dark academia fashion, i think so)

-you two paint your nails together

-you both impulsively cut your hair, it’s utter chaos. it consists of you two screaming, hiding under a blanket, freaking out at the hair in the sink, then realizing you both look really good

-you have matching silver rings and necklaces

-he’s very devious, he always has something up his sleeve

-he gets jealous really easily, if someone is looking at you he’ll stare them down and whisper in your ear “someone’s checking you out.” “really? are they cute?” he’ll shoot you a warning look before picking you up and running off to do some um activities

-he’s very protective, he trusts you deeply but he knows that there are people who are willing to do anything to upset him and the only way someone could upset him is if they harmed you in any way. he will always stand up for you, even when you’re not around. he despises anyone who even looks at you the wrong way. this has led to many fights and detentions

-he’s the most supportive and accepting person ever. he knows what it’s like to feel like an alien in your own body, to not be accepted by those you thought would be there no matter what, he understands what it feels like and though he will never understand how you feel completely, he will do everything in his power to help you and to make you feel safe and loved. if you open up about your struggles, your sexuality, your identity or anything at all, there will not be a single part of him that’ll judge you. he’ll just listen and smile, feeling so grateful that you trusted him enough to open up to him

-he’ll randomly break into your room in the middle of the night “get your fine ass out of bed, we’re going to hogsmeade.” “it’s 4 in the morning what could you possibly want at hogsmeade?” “i’m hungry, now hurry up.” “why don’t you sod off and steal some or rem’s chocolate? i’m tired.” “i already finished it c’monnnnn i know you wanna.” “you’re so lucky that i love you sirius.”

-he always keeps you on your feet, there was never a dull moment with him and frankly, it was hard to keep up, no one knows where he gets all this energy from.

-it’s hard to really know what he’s talking about at times, he just says words sometimes and when he’s done he looks at you expectantly

-his energy levels fluctuate a lot though, one minute he’ll be running around the room chasing you like a zombie, the next he’ll be sitting down talking about cultural anthropology

-he likes trying to see if he can trick you into eating foods you hate. for example, he’ll try and feed you olives by claiming they’re grapes or something, which obviously doesn’t work so he just shoves it in your mouth (olive slander is welcome here)

-when you two kiss it’s so intense, even if it’s supposed to be a short peck before you head off to class he’ll put both his hands in your hair and pull you closer, refusing to have a kiss less than 10 seconds

-when he hugs you he spins you around until you’re both about to fall from dizziness

-he’s so coquettish, even when you’ve been together for so long he’ll stroll up to you and use a horrible pick up line, or he’ll wink at you from across the room or shamelessly flirt with you in front of everyone, which never fails to amuse you

-sirius either sleeps for 17 hours straight or 3 hours, there is no in-between. he’s also a very heavy sleeper, it’s so difficult to get him up in the mornings if you two are late for class. he doesn’t really care that he’s late but for your sake, he drags himself out of bed, under the condition that you have to take a nap with him right after class.

-he hogs the blanket and when you try and pull it back he will just grunt and say “you’re so hot why would you need it?” which you’d just scoff at and throw yourself on him until he acquiesces to share the blanket with you

-the train ride to hogwarts is filled with laughter, the kind where it hurts to breathe and you keep adding things that make you both reel over. the other marauders are slightly confused, but they start to laugh as they see your faces turn red while tears slip from your eyes.

-you are such an energetic couple, you bounce off of each other and anyone who hangs out with you two feels like they’re babysitting

-if his hands are cold he’ll press them on your thighs, neck, or your stomach just to make you jump, which is the catalyst in you chasing him around the room while throwing things at him

-he pokes the side of your face so much you’re convinced you’ll get a dent, he also flicks you so much that by the end of class there's a red mark on your cheek

- “you smell so good love.” “stop sniffing me, creep”

-he likes carrying you bridal style everywhere, it’s so unnecessary and extravagant that it just works because it’s sirius we’re talking about

-you two play fight so often people are genuinely concerned because they’ll just walk into the common room and see you straddling him as you cause havoc on his face with a pillow or he’ll have you pinned under him as he relentlessly tickles you

-calling him fleahead just to rile him up

“why can’t i have a pleasant nickname? like mr. darcy, am i not like your mr. darcy??”

-him calling you cherry or mars because you blush a lot around him (he likes to tell himself it’s because of his undeniable charm)

-sneaking off to the astronomy tower together to listen to music while you’re under a blanket and holding hands, talking quietly about your home lives or anything that’s bothering you, letting the wind run through your clothing, causing the two of you to shuffle closer together

-he’s seldom quiet so when he is you know there’s something wrong. you never push him as he’ll open up on his own terms and when he’s ready, but you always make sure that he knows you’re there

-he’ll usually walk into your dorm shutting the door quietly, taking his jumper off, and curling up in your lap as he grabs your hand, your other one going to his hair immediately. his cries are silent but they don’t last long, only for a couple of minutes before he looks up at you and kisses the side of your mouth before going under your covers and hugging your waist tightly.

-when you walk in upset or crying he’ll immediately be gripping his wand asking who he’ll have to hex, it brings a smile to your face and you just shake your head before trudging towards him, your mood washing over you again. you straddle his lap and bury your face in his chest, trying to calm yourself down. his hands would immediately go to rubbing your back or stroking your hair. when your breathing starts to go back to normal he’ll hold the back of your neck, making you look up at him, he just wanted to see your face because even when you were sobbing he thought you were the most breathtaking person on earth.

-you two always shower together or take baths together and they’d be filled with horrible attempts at flirting and messing around

-drunk sirius is a disaster. he will trail after you like a lost puppy, he will hug your legs if you try to leave which leads to him being dragged on the floor as he grips on your calf for dear life. if you somehow manage to free yourself from his grip he does the most outrageous and embarrassing things to get you to come back. (imagine sirius drunkenly singing common people by pulp or the letter by the boxtops, using his bottle as a mic and prancing around the common room doing an idiotic dance)

-drunk sirius barges into your room screaming “i'm an english man!!” or singing parklike by blur (if blur existed at the time)

-so many polaroids, he has a box filled with them. it gives him comfort when he’s back at home

-he stares at you a lot

-he always greets you with a kiss on the back of your hand

-at first you were apprehensive about being with sirius for several reasons but you gave him a chance because you wanted to formulate your own opinion. he proved everyone around him wrong and it took you by surprise to see just how committed he was. he not once hid the fact he liked you, he made it very known that he wanted you and only you, even if it was embarrassing on your behalf

(can you tell i heavily associate sirius with damon albarn?)

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black imagine #sirius black headcanon #maurauders era #sirius black x reader #harry potter

276 notes · View notes

makayla-angelic · 3 years

Text

Helsaween-Week 1-Harvest

Summary: The 1st graders of Arendelle Elementary are going on a Halloween trick or treating at a local pumpkin patch! Hans is excited to go, mostly because he can’t wait to spend time talking to Elsa, a fellow classmate he’s got a crush on. Hans is sure that Elsa likes him back, and he’s determined to impress her in any way he can.

Pumpkin Patch Happenings

One beautiful fall day at Arendelle Elementary, Ms. Simms burst into her classroom with exciting news.

“Guess what class?” she asked, with a smile on her face. “We’re going on a field trip this Halloween to a local pumpkin patch! And that’s not all, there will be games, stories, and trick or treating!”

“Yay!” shouted all the boys and girls. It sounded like fun to them, as they began talking excitedly to one another.

“I’m going to dress up as a monster,” said one boy.

“I’m going to dress up as a mermaid,” said one girl.

Hans tapped his pencil against his head. He didn’t know what he wanted to dress up as. He thought about dressing up as a monster too, but he did not want his other classmates to think he was playing copycat.

“I going to dress up as Cinderella,” said a girl named Elsa with a giggle.

Hans smiled at Elsa. He liked her and found her nice and pretty. But he was shy to talk to her. They had spoken a few times on the playground, but Hans was always so shy. Hans wondered if maybe Elsa liked him too. Maybe at the Halloween field trip they could play games together! Maybe he could win all the prizes, just for her.

Ms. Simms passed out little pieces of paper with the date and the location of the field trip. Everyone in the class couldn’t wait to go! Halloween was still a little over two weeks away, and to all the little boys and little girls in the class, it felt like forever. Hans couldn’t wait to go have fun and talk to Elsa.

When Hans got home, he told his parents excitedly about the field trip.

“That sounds like fun,” said his mother. “We can go get you a costume this Saturday, and see what you like.” Hans nodded his head. He wanted to find the right one.

So on Saturday, Hans woke up, and got dressed, ate breakfast, and Mom took him to the costume store. There were so many costumes to choose from! There were ghosts, goblins, monsters, spiders, orcs, and zombies. Hans walked past all of them and headed towards the back, where all the superheroes and warriors were. He took a knight costume complete with a sword and shield off the shelf.

“You don’t want to be a ghost or a goblin, Hans?” asked his mother. Hans shook his head no. He was too shy to say that he didn’t want to dress up as anything too scary for Elsa when he talked to her. He decided that being a knight would be cooler. So Hans’s mother bought the costume, and when they got home he hung it up on his closet door so that he could see it. He hoped no one else in his class would dress up as a knight.

Another week passed, and it was Saturday again. The day of the Halloween field trip had arrived! Hans could hardly wait. At last, evening was coming, and it was time to get ready. Hans put on his costume, and he and his parents set off to the pumpkin patch. By the time they arrived it was dark, and all the little boys and girls from his grade level were walking around with their parents, looking for their class teacher. Just then, Hans saw Elsa! She was walking up with her parents and younger sister. Elsa was dressed in a beautiful Cinderella costume and tiara that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.

“Hi Hans,” said Elsa, waving to him.

“H-hello,” said Hans, waving back shyly.

“I like the knight costume,” said Elsa.

“Th-thanks,” said Hans. “I like yours too.”

Once everyone in Ms. Simms class was lined up, they all followed her to an area where they were going to play their first game. It was bobbing for apples, only a bit more modernized than usual. The apples floating in the water were plastic with a magnet piece on top, and there were little fishing rods with magnet ends on the bottom.

“First person who fishes out the most apples in one minute wins a prize,” said the man in the charge of the game.

“Only three at a time can go,” said Ms. Simms.

Elsa and two other girls were up first. “Ready, set, go!” cried the man, and he started the timer. Elsa and the other two girls rushed to get an apple on the end of their poles, yank it out, take it off, and go for another one. Hans, Ms. Simms, and everyone else cheered them on.

“Time’s up!” cried the man, one minute had gone by so fast!

“Pooey!” cried Elsa, for she did not win, her classmate dressed up as a fairy did. Hans felt sad for her. So, when it was his time to go, he was determined to win.

“Ready, set, go!” cried the man, and Hans and his other two classmates rushed to fish for the apples. When the minute was up, the man yelled to Hans, “You win!” And Hans was happy. The man gave him a little bag of toys as his prize.

When that game was over, Elsa was still feeling a little sad. Hans walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Here,” said Hans, giving her the bag. “Have my prize.”

“Really?” asked Elsa in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Hans.

Elsa grabbed the bag excitedly. “Thank you!” She said.

“You’re welcome,” said Hans with a smile.

The next game they played was bean bag toss. “Whoever scores the most points wins a candy apple.” said the game instructor.

Once again it was three to a station, for there were three bean bag toss boards. Hans and two other classmates were up first, and when the the instructor told them to ready, set, go, off they went, as fast as they could in one minute to make points. This time, Hans did not win, and he tried not to be sad about it. Elsa and two other classmates went up next, and this time, Elsa won! And just like Hans did, as they walked away to the next game, Elsa tapped Hans on the shoulder and he turned around.

“Here you go,” said Elsa, giving the treat to him. “I have candied apples at home.”

“Wow, thank you!” said Hans.

“You’re welcome,” said Elsa.

They played one-legged race, they played tug a war, and they played a guessing game. Hans and Elsa and everyone else were having so much fun! They shared gifts with each other and soon, they had quite the stash! After a long time of playing games, it was time for refreshments. Everyone ate delicious pumpkin spice snickerdoodles and drank fruit punch. Then they gathered around the campfire and listened to a man tell a scary story.

“This is a story about a man who’s house was haunted by a zombie’s foot!” said the storyteller. Hans, Elsa, and everyone else listened with wide eyes.

After storytelling, it was time for the final game of the night. The farmer led them into a giant barn.

“This is a game where everyone can win a prize!” he said. “There are bags of candy hidden around the barn. See how much you can find in five minutes! When time is up, come out and stand with your teacher.”

Hans, Elsa, and everyone else were excited to play the game of finding the candy.

“On your mark, get set, go!” cried the farmer, and all the children spread out in the barn to find the candy. They all laughed as they raced each other to different spots and grabbed candy before the other did. Before they knew it, the farmer was yelling, “One minute left!”

Elsa hurried to find the last bit of candy that was left. Suddenly, her and another classmate spotted a not so well hidden bag of candy on top of a block of hay, peeking out behind another one. Elsa and the boy both rushed and climbed onto the block of hay to reach the candy. Elsa was about to grab it, when suddenly, without warning, the boy pushed her! Elsa fell to the ground, and landed on her right wrist.

Hans, who had seen the boy push Elsa, he hurriedly rushed over and grabbed the boy by the back of his costume, and yanked him down. The boy, angry that Hans had pulled him down, pushed Hans, and Hans pushed him back.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here?” asked the farmer as he walked in with Ms. Simms and pulled them apart.

“He pushed Elsa,” said Hans, pointing at the boy.

“Is that true?” Ms. Simms demanded as she stood with her hands on her hips. “Answer me David.”

David just shook his head no.

“Is it true, Elsa?” asked Ms. Simms to Elsa, who was sitting on the ground, holding her wrist and crying. Elsa nodded her head yes.

And so Ms. Simms got David and Elsa’s parents.

“How dare you push a girl down!” cried David’s Mom as he scolded his son. “When we get home you’re going to take your bath and go right to bed. No candy for you tonight mister.” They made David apologize to Elsa, and then they marched him to the car.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but we’ll make an appointment to the doctor’s in the morning,” said Elsa’s Mom, as she looked at her daughters wrist. Hans felt so sorry for Elsa. He was mad that David was such a big fat meanie and pushed Elsa. Hans’s Mom and Dad were proud that Hans had stood up for Elsa.

There was one final activity to do, and then the Halloween field trip would be over. The farmer let all the little boys and girls go to the pumpkin patch and pick out a little pumpkin to take home! Elsa sat on the side. Her wrist was hurting and she didn’t feel like playing. So, Hans went out into the field, found the nicest, shiniest, and roundest pumpkin he could find, and presented it to Elsa. Elsa smiled and was happy.

“Thank you,” said Elsa. Then, she leaned forward and kissed Hans on the cheek!

Hans was surprised, and then he could feel his face turning as red as an apple.

“You’re welcome,” Hans managed to say.

At last, the field trip was over, and it was time to go home. Hans and Elsa walked side by side each other as they followed their parents to the car.

“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!” they sang as the full moon shone high overhead. The end.

I hope you all enjoy this short story!

#hans #elsa #helsa #helsaween

20 notes · View notes

lonelyreputation · 4 years

Text

Trick or Treat (Dad!Shawn) MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🔮

A/N: Happy Halloween! Thought it would be nice be have a little festive fic to celebrate 🎃👻🦇🌖🧟‍♂️

Summary: It’s the first time you and Shawn take your son trick-or-treating 🧛🏻‍♂️🕸👨🏼‍🚒

Warnings: None!

WC: 2.4K // Fluff

It was the first time your kid was really old enough to understand the concept of Halloween. After his preschool teacher held a Halloween party for the class where they all dressed up, traded candy, and played musical chairs to the Monster Mash…Your son became a Halloween enthusiast.

Your son, Aiden, bugged you and Shawn to go Trick-or-Treating––but Daddy! Charlie’s going!––He threw a tantrum in his carseat when Shawn picked him up from school. And when they got home, after a tiny time out, Shawn and your son talked about Trick-or-Treating.

It wasn’t that Shawn didn’t want to take his son out…It was more that he enjoyed a night in with his family more. So far, every Halloween was spent sitting in the driveway, with a fire pit, with his little family as kids from the neighborhood came up for candy. He also liked when Aiden would sit on his lap and cuddle in close to him as they felt the warmth of the fire.

And Shawn knew that when his kid started Trick-or-Treating, it would speed up the process of him growing up even more.

But once everything was settled to go Trick-or-Treating, then came the dilemma of both of you wanting to go with your son since it would be his first time. Your parents were out of town, and it was Shawn’s parents anniversary, so you couldn’t ask them.

So, it only left Aaliyah.

You knew she probably had better plans than to sit at her brother’s house and give out candy, but she was your last hope. Shawn begged and pleaded with his younger sister to give out candy, bribing her with whatever she wanted. And while it took a lot of convincing on Shawn’s end, Aaliyah just wanted to see her brother grovel.

Even though they were both not teenagers anymore, they still acted like it.

You were buttoning up Aiden’s yellow fireman jacket when you heard your husband whine from the doorway.

“Where’s your costume?”

Still buttoning his little jacket, you looked up to see Shawn in his costume. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Standing with a pout in the doorway, Shawn was dressed in black pants, a white dress shirt under a black vest, a black cape––with a red underside––tied around his neck, as he gelled back his hair.

Shawn took out his fake fangs, “I thought we were both dressing up?”

You rolled your eyes at your husband, patting your sons shoulders when you were done buttoning up his shirt, placing the red firefighter hat on him, “I’m going as an exhausted mother to a three-year-old.”

Shawn slumped his shoulders, “You are an exhausted mother to a three-year-old,” he sighed, “That’s not a costume.”

You raised both of your eyebrows at him and Shawn held his hands up in defense of his smart talk.

“Mommy,” Aiden tugged on your sweatshirt, “What is ex-asted?”

You glared at Shawn again before kneeling down to be face-face-with your son, “It means that I love you very much.”

Aiden’s eyes lit up and you melted at his smile, “So you always love me?”

You nodded your head and kissed his cheek before standing up, “I’ll always always love you.”

When you looked to your side, you saw Shawn with a soft smile on his face, with adoration written all over his eyes as he stared at his little family. You could tell he was lost in his thoughts, but then Aiden spoke up, bringing him back into the moment.

“Is Daddy ex-asted?”

Shawn’s smile dropped and you let out a loud laugh. You smirked at Shawn, who now glared at you, before looking down at your son who had his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “He’s always exhausted.”

And like before, your son’s eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together, thinking that it meant that his dad would always love him, “I’m ex-asted too!”

Both you and Shawn let out a laugh at your son’s misunderstanding of the word. And while you both did your best to educate your kid when he asked what something meant…He was only three, and his reactions were too cute to let him know what the actual word meant.

“Are you really not dressing up?” Shawn asked with a hint of sadness in his tone.

You looked over at him and saw that he really wanted you to dress up. The eyes you fell in love with were wide and pleading with you to uphold your end of the promise. And with a reluctant sigh, you nodded your head, and Shawn’s eyes lit up.

You walked past him and quickly pecked his lips, with your son yelling out a loud––yuck!––as you smiled, “Give me a minute.”

Shawn proudly smiled as you walked out of your son’s room and into your own. Inside your closet, you thought about what last minute costume you could put together. Your eyes landed on balck leggings, and a very simple idea popped into your head.

Changing out of your jeans to black leggings, you also swapped the sweatshirt of Shawn’s you were wearing for a long-sleeved black t-shirt and threw on a black sweatshirt on top. Once you slipped on a pair of black sneakers, you walked into your bathroom to draw a black circle on your nose, with whiskers on your cheek.

Satisfied with your lazily put together costume, you walked out of your room and down the stairs, where you saw Shawn explaining the rules of the night to your son.

“You always hold either Mommy or Daddy’s hand,” Shawn said as Aiden nodded, “Always say please and thank you after you get candy from a house,” Aiden nodded his head, “And you don’t run off.” Aiden nodded his head again.

Once Shawn was done explaining the rules of the night, he turned around and stopped when he saw your costume. He blinked a few times, “That’s your costume?”

“Mommy, you’re a kitty!” Aiden giggled as he climbed down from the barstool and raced over to hug your legs.

You playfully glared up at Shawn before you bent down to give your son a real hug. He wrapped his tiny arms around your neck––so tight––that you had to pull away after a few seconds of not being able to breathe.

You smiled down at Aiden who looked about ready to burst. So you grabbed the plastic pumpkin off the counter and handed it to your son, “Ready for Trick-or-Treating?”

Aiden shouted a very loud, “yes!” As he took the pumpkin from your grasp and ran toward the front door.

“Aiden, what were the rules?!” Shawn raised his voice just a little, not out of anger, but so that his son could hear him from the other room.

You and Shawn walked to the foyer, where AIden had his hand on the door knob, and he looked up at his dad with wide eyes, “Sorry, Daddy.” And he reached out to hold Shawn’s hand.

Shawn smiled down at his son and happily took his hand, “It’s no problem, we just don’t want you getting hurt.”

And with that, you opened the door and felt the soft breeze of the Canadian air hit your face. The wind picked up some of the fallen leaves and they crunched under your feet when you walked outside to shut the door behind your family.

When you looked down, you saw the jack-o-lanterns you carved with Shawn, your son was only interested in digging out the slimy pumpkin seeds. And when you picked your head up, you noticed that some families had already gotten a head start on Halloween. The sun was still up, slowly setting behind the trees, and it was the time where all the younger kids went out with their parents before bedtime.

You walked out to the driveway where Aaliyah was sitting on a chair from the patio Shawn brought out front for her to sit on. Kids were just leaving from getting candy from your house when she turned her head to see you all coming out.

“Oh my God,” her mouth dropped as she looked between the three of you, “Aiden your costume is so cool!”

Aiden smiled, showing all his teeth, “Thanks LiLi,” you could see Aaliyah melt at the nickname your son gave her when he was younger because he couldn’t properly say Aaliyah.

“I need a picture,” she whipped out her phone, “Mom will absolutely cry at this.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, “Is that really a good idea?” But as he said it, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to his side. And he brought Aiden around in front of you both, still holding his hand.

“On three say Trick or Treat!” Aaliyah happily said as Aiden eagerly nodded his head, “One, two, three––”

“Trick-or-Treat!” All three of you said, with Aiden’s voice drowning out yours and Shawn’s voice, as everyone smiled.

Aaliyah smiled down at her phone saying she would send it to both of you. Thanking her was cut off short when you saw Shawn get dragged up the driveway by your son.

“Let’s go!” Aiden laughed as he tried his hardest to run, while still holding onto Shawn’s hand.

You saw Aaliyah pull out her phone again and snap another picture.

Following your excited son up the driveway, you walked the short way to your neighbors house. Aiden excitedly knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. When the family next door opened the door Aiden brightly smiled and shouted, “Trick or Treat!”

Your neighbor gushed at his costume and even complimented Shawn’s costume, who proudly smiled because you knew he put a lot of effort into making your son's first Halloween memorable.

Once you left your neighbors house, Aiden excitedly looked up at Shawn and shook his bucket, “Candy!”

Shawn let out an over dramatic gasp, “Already so much!” You let out a soft laugh because there were only three mini pieces of candy.

Aiden proudly smiled and continued to drag Shawn along to the next house. When he got candy from there, he looked up at Shawn again, and showed him the inside of his bucket.

As the three of you were walking to your your third house of the night, Aiden started singing, “Trick or Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat––”

“Aiden!” You chastised your son who sang the opening to a crude Halloween jingle.

He looked up at you with wide eyes, quickly apologizing before placing the blame on your husband, “Daddy was singing it!”

You glared at Shawn who just shrugged his shoulders as the three of you walked down another drive way, “Old habits die hard.”

That continued on for nearly another hour and a half. Aiden would ring the doorbell, or walk up to a family sitting in their driveway, and excitedly shout Trick or Treat.

It was getting later, the sky turning a light shade of purple mixed with some dark blue swirls. And you could tell by how your son no longer dragged Shawn’s hand to another house that he was worn out. Aiden was leaning against Shawn and you saw his eyes droop down.

“Is it bedtime?” You briefly looked up at Shawn, who stopped walking. He nodded his head at you, before looking back down at Aiden.

Aiden shook his head against Shawn’s leg, “More candy.”

You let out a laugh and took his plastic pumpkin from him, “It looks like you have a lot of candy already.”

Aiden shook his head again, voice sounding groggy, “More.”

“I’m sure LiLi saved some candy for you,” Shawn said as he placed both hands under Aiden’s armpits and lifted him up. Immediately, Aiden wrapped his arms and legs around Shawn’s waist, and rested his head on his shoulder.

You took off his plastic red firefighter hat, so it wouldn’t fall off, and Aiden snuggled his head further into Shawn’s neck. You smiled at the sight and looked up to see Shawn already smiling at you.

“Well,” you said as you continued to walk around your neighborhood, “Looks like he’s already asleep.”

Shawn nodded, holding in a laugh, since he didn’t want to wake up his son, “First Halloween in the books.”

“Pretty soon he’ll be in high school asking to go to a party instead of Trick-or-Treating with his parents.” You let out a laugh because it was the general way Halloween went when you grew up. But when you looked to your side, Shawn was not laughing.

“He won’t be going to any parties,” Shawn grumbled, “He’ll be giving out candy with me.”

You rolled your eyes and walked closer to him, taking Shawn’s free hand in yours, “That’s a long way off, he’s only three.”

“I want him to stay this age forever,” Shawn whispered as you turned onto your street.

You squeezed his hand, “So do I.”

The walk back to your house was done in silence, as the both of you appreciated the night you had with your son. Aaliyah was still outside when you returned and she smiled as she saw her nephew fast asleep on her brother’s shoulder.

“Mom called me up crying after I sent her the picture,” Aaliyah laughed.

Shawn rolled his eyes and sat down in the extra chair he made sure to bring out before they left. He knew it would be an early night, and part of why Halloween was his favorite holiday was that he was able to sit by the fire with his son.

Aaliyah stood up, draping the blanket she was curled up in, over Shawn so Aiden wouldn’t be cold.

You moved the other empty chair right up to Shawn and ran your fingers up and down Aiden’s back. He squirmed a bit and you saw him pick his head up from Shawn’s shoulder, “Daddy?”

“Shh,” Shawn hushed him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “You can go back to sleep.”

Aiden sniffled a bit, curling his hand in a fist and rubbing his left eye, as he turned to face Aaliyah, “LiLi, do you have candy for me?”

All three of you laughed and Aaliyah nodded your head, “I’ve got loads of candy for you,” she then leaned in, keeping her voice low, even though she knew both of you could hear, “But don’t tell your parents.”

Aiden nodded before placing his head back onto Shawn’s shoulder. It wasn’t until Shawn felt his son’s even breathing that he knew he was asleep. And even though Shawn didn’t want his son to grow up anymore than you did, he couldn’t wait to take his son Trick-or-Treating next year.

Taglist: @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @vinylmendes, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @crossedties @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm @lovelysunset1

284 notes · View notes

gellavonhamster · 3 years

Text

ghost stories

Suicide Squad (2016) || characters: El Diablo feat. everyone else || post-canon, sort of a fix-it

ao3 link eng || this was first written and published on ao3 in Russian in 2016 but I didn't attempt to translate it into English back then.

Harley is the first to see him.

She catches the smell first. Something appears to be burning, and she checks cautiously if there is something wrong with the coffee machine. She doesn’t find anything suspicious – not that the appliances about to flame up smell like that anyway. Could it be that there’s a fire starting? That would be funny, but seems like there’s hardly a chance. It is the smell of a bonfire at the beach, of the fallen leaves being burned in the yards in fall, of a melting candle in the church; weirdly, all this at the same time. A smell that seems too pure for Belle Reve, for Gotham, for everything that makes up her life these days.

Harley looks around once again – and springs to her feet like she’s been stung.

Chato Santana is standing next to her cage.

“Diablo?” she whispers, unable to believe her eyes. She would’ve thought she’s lost her marbles if there were any left to lose.

“Harley,” says Diablo, and it’s his voice, his shy, sad smile, his eyes and his tattoos, and Harley squeals in delight as she rushes to him. The bars of the cage are live, so she only dares to stick out the tips of her fingers. He touches them with his hand – certainly alive, certainly not a product of her mind being tortured by boredom and monotony – and she laughs.

“You’re alive, alive, alive! How did you survive? And how did they let you in?”

“It’s a long story. And I don’t think I have much time,” Diablo looks guilty. He’s still holding her hand and looking at her so earnestly it’s almost worrying. “Harley… don’t go with him.”

“Huh? What do you mean, honey?”

“He’s coming here. Don’t leave with him, Harley, stay. It sounds strange, but this would really be for the best.”

“Don’t leave with whom?” she can’t follow him. He gives her a melancholic look – and suddenly disappears. Without any smoke or flames or any other special effects. She can’t wrap her head around how it happened – it’s just that he was here a moment ago, and now there’s no one beside her, and she’s reaching out towards nothing.

“Diablo?” she calls, and when she gets no answer, she decides to get things straight by asking the guards. What kind of cruel joke is this? Only one person is allowed to joke here, and that person is her. “Hello there! Mister jailer, yoo-hoo! Where’s my friend?”

No one is in a hurry to respond. Finally, one of the armed-to-the-teeth guards approaches the cage.

“Why are you yelling, lady?”

“Where’s my friend?” Harley asks petulantly. “He was here just now, and we didn’t finish talking. Where did you take him?”

“There was no one here.”

“What do you mean ‘no one’? I just talked to him!”

The guard examines her from head to foot. Looks like he’s chewing gum, which, combined with his empty apathetic stare, makes him look like a cow.

“Definitely crazy,” he sums up, and leaves. Irritated, Harley forgets to take caution, hits the bars and falls down on the floor right away, writhing in pain.

“Well, well, well,” she whispers, playing the recent events over in her head. Chato was very much corporeal – not a ghost, then. Yet the guards didn’t notice him, and then he vanished into thin air. Harley thinks about the being Chato transformed into by the end of the battle – an ancient one, as if straight from the walls of some Aztec temple. Could some petty bomb kill such a being? Could the Enchantress’s brother have survived too?

“I am friends with a god,” she informs the ceiling. “Incredible.”

About an hour later, her Puddin’ comes for her, and she forgets the advice Diablo gave her.

Croc sees him on the night of the same day. He knows for sure that it is night thanks to the TV listings – the only reference point for time and days of the week that he has. Not that it was bothering him too much, truth be told. Monday or Sunday, every day in Belle Reve is a carbon copy of the day before. However, Croc doesn’t complain. He has a roof over his head, water, food – even better food than he used to have in the sewers in days gone by – and a TV, and it is honestly not too hard to do without such extras as companionship and fresh experiences. Still, he is glad to see Diablo. Even though first he lunges at him with his fangs bared, because he doesn’t immediately recognize him and supposes that Waller and company are sick of feeding him and decided to kill him. Or to put someone else in his quarters, which would have been no less audacious.

“Croc, it’s me,” Diablo hastens to say, and lights up a flame over his left palm – so unusual and out of place in the dampness of Croc’s cell. Croc freezes and watches the flame for some seconds. That must really be Diablo; there are hardly many people in the world capable of such tricks.

“Hey, man,” Croc says. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Just checking up on you.”

Well, that must definitely be Diablo. Croc knows that there are hardly many people in the world who’d care to check up on him, but that sounds like something El Diablo would do. Back then, during the mission, he was friendly, asked “You okay?” after each skirmish, and could clap him on the shoulder without shuddering. And there are definitely even less people in the world that would touch him willingly.

“Did they just let you in like that?” wonders Croc. Diablo gives him a slight smile.

“They don’t know I’m here.”

“So you’re, like, a ghost?” Croc asks. It occurred to him from the very beginning, but it sounds particularly joyless when said out loud.

Diablo gestures vaguely. “I’m still figuring it out myself, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Croc glances over his cell. A bag of food on the cot catches his eye. “You want a burger?”

“Nah, I’m good. Save it for yourself.”

“They’ll bring more today, I’m telling ya.”

“Then I want one.”

“Then you’re not a ghost,” grins Croc, and the fact that Diablo doesn’t flinch or try to look away also proves that this is the real Chato Santana, because most people don’t like seeing Croc smile.

And so he and Diablo, who kind of is a ghost but kind of isn’t, sit there eating burgers and watching some crap on MTV. Life has taught Croc not to be surprised by anything, so everything’s fine.

“So what happened after the bomb went off?” Croc asks. Diablo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, apparently at a loss how to explain.

“I was smoke,” he speaks finally. “Then I was flames. Then I became myself again.”

“I see,” Croc replies, although, of course, he can’t see shit.

“Who are you talking to?” comes the guard’s voice from behind the door. “Hey, scum!”

Croc puts the burger aside.

“Wait a bit,” he tells Chato, gets up, and heads for the door.

When he comes to the bean hole, the guard already looks like he regrets calling him.

“No one,” Crock smiles as widely as only he can, and the guard, who isn’t among the people able to watch him smile without blinking an eye, steps back reflexively. “But come inside, and I’ll talk to you if you wanna. How about that?”

When he turns around, Chato has already disappeared, and Croc could have assumed he has dreamed it all, but there are two half-eaten burgers on the cot, not one.

Digger sees him next, and he isn’t even amazed. The bastards keep drugging him with all sorts of shit to calm him down. Usually after the shot he just lies there, feverish, and can’t even move, let alone stand up, but who knows, perhaps they’re testing some new poison on him. Or they’ve started using something stronger because they noticed that a couple of hours after the usual stuff he’s already able to yell, bang at the door, and do everything he can to get the best of them while cooped up inside. Or it’s simply that there’s already so much of this shit in his blood that it’s impossible not to have any screws loose, try as he might to keep them in place. In any case, he’s not exactly shocked when, as he tosses and turns on the floor after another injection, he turns his head and sees El Diablo, large as life and twice as ugly.

“Fuck me sideways,” Digger says. He doesn’t have any energy to be mad yet. “I must be tripping.”

“You’re not tripping,” Diablo objects.

“You died. So I must be.”

“I didn’t die either.”

Diablo sits down cross-legged on the floor next to him.

“Has it crossed your mind that if you stop getting on their nerves, they might start treating you better?” he asks.

“Go to hell.”

“Message received.”

There’s a footfall outside; a whole bunch of people must be running somewhere.

“They’ve turned the entire joint upside down,” says Digger, because it’s been ages since he has spoken to anyone who’d at least pretend to listen, so a hallucination will do. “Blondie escaped.”

“I know,” Diablo replies gloomily. “I tried to warn her not to go with the Joker, but she didn’t listen to me.”

“Why warn her?” Digger asks. Harley Quinn is no bosom friend of his, but she kind of tore out the heart of the witch who kind of tried to end the world, and anyway, teammates probably should take interest in each other’s lives. Probably. He’s never really made sense of that teamwork stuff. “What’s he gonna do to her?”

“At best, what he always does.”

Two tiny figures of fire appear on Diablo’s open palm – a man and a woman. The man backhands the woman across her face, and she falls down. Digger watches the dancing flames with fascination, and meanwhile in his head, bit by bit, stroke by stroke, a plan starts to take shape. He wouldn’t be Captain motherfucking Boomerang if he fails to use any opportunity that turns up – even a ghost of one.

“Listen, mate,” he begins cajolingly. “If you’re really here and it’s not just me tripping… help an old friend out, won’t you? I’m fed up with being stuck here, you know.”

“I’m not gonna help you escape,” Diablo says calmly. “How do you imagine that would even happen?”

“Can’t you just burn the entire Belle Reve to the bloody ground?”

Diablo smiles.

“I can,” he admits. “But I won’t.”

The next thing he knows, the son of a bitch is gone without a trace. Anger and offence must be giving Digger strength, because he manages to leap to his feet. Like a lunatic, he thrashes around the cell, looking for at least some kind of proof that someone else was here a moment ago.

“Oi!” he shouts, knowing damn well that the guards have long stopped listening to what he has to say. “Grab the devil! A convict escaped! Hey, wankers!”

But he’s feeling lightheaded, and this shit must be really strong, and he collapses, badly hitting his head.

Tatsu sees him next – late at night, in her apartment. She’s a light sleeper, and wakes up as soon as she hears footsteps. The sword is close at hand, and she grabs it instantly, blade swishing through the air.

“Who’s there?” Tatsu asks, and then repeats in English. “Who’s there?”

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom. The only furniture is the mattress and the pair of chairs she uses to hang her clothes on. Everything is on the floor or on the windowsill – weapons, her laptop, the book she tried to read before going to sleep but could not concentrate on. It is an ascetic, comfortless dwelling that does not look permanent and is not supposed to become so. Fate and Amanda Waller, though, seem to have other plans in this respect.

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom – but someone’s definitely walking in the antechamber; she flings the door open – and sees El Diablo, standing by the entrance and looking around. In a blink of an eye Tatsu is next to him, and the blade of the Soultaker is pressed to his neck.

“Katana, it’s me,” Diablo says, unfazed. “Chato Santana.”

“Chato Santana is dead,” she says through her teeth. Chato Santana was a gangster who killed, albeit by a tragic accident, his own family – but she fought side by side with him, he sacrificed himself to save the world, he called their squad his family and died for them. That is enough for her not to let anyone use his name as a cover. “Who are you?”

“I’m alive,” Diablo replies. He puts his hands up to show he’s unarmed, and forks of flame appear on his palms. “Or sort of.”

Sort of.

Tatsu lowers the sword and looks warily at the man standing in front of her.

“How did you…”

“You’re gonna have a new mission soon. Demand that Waller tells you everything.”

“About what?”

“I couldn’t overhear that,” he says with regret. “But…”

Something knocks on the window. Tatsu turns around quickly, but that must’ve been just a tree branch hitting the windowpane. When she turns back to Chato, he’s already gone, and her apartment is silent.

It’s just four in the morning, but she can’t make herself fall asleep again. Having poured a cup of tea, Tatsu sits down on the mattress and thinks, think, thinks about what just happened. Tatsu believes in ghosts – her sword is teeming with them, so she wouldn’t say that her worldview is shaken. Still, this is strange, very strange. What did he want to tell her? Why did he disappear so abruptly? Like… a broadcast was interrupted.

Colonel Flag calls her at daybreak and tells her that there’s a shoot-out between two gangs on the outskirts of Gotham, with metahumans on both sides. When Tatsu arrives at Belle Reve, it turns out they must have considered it to be not enough to ruin her Saturday morning, because she is asked – more like ordered, actually – to escort an inmate from his cell, an inmate who attacks anyone who tries to enter and has already injured three guards with his bare hands, and it’s not reasonable to sedate him before the mission, and “he’s likely to obey if it’s you, Katana” – the last is Rick’s argument, and if he told that to her face and not on the phone, she would have had to strain every nerve not to hit him with something.

No one tries to attack her when she enters the cell of Captain Boomerang – Harkness is sitting on the floor quite still, his arms around his knees, and when he notices her, he even smiles with bruised lips.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says. “Am I hallucinating you too?”

“No,” the question is unexpected and confuses her. “Why?”

“Well, they keep injecting me some crap, and lately I’ve been seeing things,” Harkness explains peacefully, even eagerly. His voice is quiet and hoarse, which, combined with his Australian accent, leads to Tatsu being barely able to make out half of what he’s saying. To hear him better, she crouches down next to him, still gripping the sword hilt – there is no telling if he isn’t just making her come closer to take her down and bolt. “Saw the devil yesterday.”

“The devil?”

“Our devil. Día… de fucking Muertos. Chato Santana.”

Tatsu gives a shiver and, having lost her balance, half sits down, half falls on the dirty floor.

She isn’t the only one to have seen him. She isn’t the only one he wanted to send a message to.

“Hey, luv,” Harkness frowns and reaches out to touch her knee lightly. “You all right?”

“Same as you, more or less,” she wants to reply, which of course would mean she isn’t, not at all.

“What did he tell you?” she asks him instead.

When Floyd sees him, he is hardly surprised, since the others have already warned him. Boomerang, Croc, and Katana tell him everything while they’re waiting for the helo, and had it been just Boomerang, who believes inexplicably that he has a sense of humour although he certainly doesn’t, Floyd most likely wouldn’t have believed his ghost stories, but it is even harder to believe that Croc, let alone Katana would agree to take part in such pranks. Which is why he listens to them closely and takes note: okay, then he doesn’t have to worry about his mental heath if the late Santana suddenly appears out of nowhere to give some advice or share some news or simply ask how he’s doing. So the four of them keep whispering to one another like kids at the back of the class until their transport arrives – just the four of them, which is a pity. If there is anyone on the team that he had missed a little, it’s Harley. Floyd knows some things about the Joker, for it isn’t possible, as they write in the papers, to belong to the criminal world of Gotham and not know anything about the Joker. Floyd knows what Flag had spilled to him when visiting him in his cell or escorting him there after a visit to Zoe. Floyd thinks that in his entire lifetime he hasn’t understood a thing about love – is it even possible to understand it, on the other hand? – but he feels like the mad and brilliant Harley, Harley the whimsical, Harley the loving deserves better.

“What’s with the gossiping?” Flag inquires suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Croc and Digger answer in unison, in unison, and Floyd facepalms because seriously, are they in some cheesy movie or what? They don’t tell Flag anything yet, but Floyd is almost sure that sooner or later Santana will visit him as well, because Flag is one of them too, after all. Not that he’s even trying to deny it; no one’s making him drop by Floyd’s cell every other day to chat about some nonsense through the steel door.

So Floyd is hardly surprised when, as he makes his way behind the dumpsters loading one gun after another, he notices a familiar, head-to-toe-tattooed figure standing nearby.

“There are snipers on the roof over there and around the corner of the shop,” Chato says instead of greeting. Floyd nods.

“I noticed.”

“Eight men in the drugstore on the other side of the street. Each with a machine gun.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve just been there.”

“Got it,” there’s no time for lengthy conversations. No time to say: glad you’re alive, man. No time to ascertain: are you alive, though? So he thinks over the plan of action, making a mental note to ask all these questions later, when there are no bullets whistling past their ears.

People like them deserve no guardian angels, frankly speaking, but they may have managed to earn one for all of them.

#suicide squad #el diablo #harley quinn #killer croc #captain boomerang #katana #deadshot #rick flag #dc #talk talk talk #my fic #gella talks skwad #this might have been the most challenging to translate so far #i'm so used to bookish slightly outdated speech and most of my fandoms allow that #and then bam modernity. ugh #also i know nothing about the geography of the dceu!united states. sorry about that.

39 notes · View notes