HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNN!!!!! (Patreon)

Just some good old fashion Halloween fluff :D

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i.

Harry cannot wait to get home. 

The day prior to Halloween night always felt weird. There was an anticipation that made everyone jittery for the night - the day basically had very little meaning. Nobody cared for the sun that gleamed high in the sky, just begged desperately for the moon to glimmer in the dark of the night. When the evening sky grew a hazy purpled blue, everyone began slipping on their costumes, doing their makeup, styling their hair, whether it be for going door to door and badgering for candy, or to drink themselves silly until their face paint was smudged and their costumes tore. 

He had done a few interviews and been through a few meetings since about 8 AM, when he had to leave the comfort of his warm, toasty bed, with his warm toasty girlfriend snuggled into his side. It made his heart tug when he had to unweave his body from her, peeled her arm around from where she’d tucked it around his abdomen and unlocked their legs, and she peeked her eyes open. Disgruntled and huffy, warbled, “Where’re you goin’? Don’ w’eave me.” and Harry could have melted at the pout she had given him. 

“I’ll be back soon, lovely, got’a few things to do,” he leaned down, puckering his lips at her beckoning a kiss, her lips just barely responding as she wavers in and out of sleep, “Gettin’ a few things fo’ t’night too.” Harry replaces his body with one of their pillows, aided her in curling her arms around it, tucking the fluffed white comforter back around her body when he noticed the goosebumps that had pimples on her skin.

Y/N grumbled a noise low in her throat, nodding, her eyes dropping back closed, a murmured sentence that he asks her to repeat. She dragged her face away from where she had stuffed it into the pillow he’d given her, “Bring pum’kin flavored lube.” Punctuated with a cheeky, sleepy smile, her eyes still shut, and Harry scoffed before he swatted her bum. 

“Naughty.” 

Harry had gone about his business getting ready that morning, taking his shower, brushing his teeth, futzing about in a lavender-colored robe with the hood drawn up as he made himself a breakfast smoothie. He had a little extra time to kill before he had to go to his first meeting so he made Y/N two English muffins smothered in grape jam, a small, schmaltzy post it with a heart drawn on it and noted that she has food awaiting her in the microwave. He stuck it on the mirror in the bathroom because that’s the first place she ambles to when she wakes up in the morning.

From there he had been on the move, not a moment to stop and decompress. He bopped from interview to meeting in that weird pre-Halloween night state where everything just felt like it was moving in slow motion. Y/N and he had done their partying the night prior, where he had appropriately dressed as a bunny and Y/N a bear. They argued who would be most likely to be a bear in the wild for about an hour before he finally relented and agreed that Y/N was more suited as the one sinking their teeth in (because she had an affinity for nipping and biting on him, his biceps, his thighs, his bum - really anywhere she could get her mouth on him).  

It had been wonderful; they both drank and ate and fucked about happily. There were several playful pictures of Y/N with her mouth on his bunny ears, lots of nose kisses, and lots of neither of them being able to get enough of the other. Later on, that night when he and Y/N had finally retreated home, stumbling through the door, they were both far too horny to be as cute as they were dressed. They smudged each other's makeup with how spiritedly they kissed, Harry was just about ripping the buttons of the bear onesie off of her so that he could get her naked. The bunny ears he wore kept a firm hold for about halfway through Y/N riding on him, around the time she had switched from deep, rocking rolls so far on him that she can grind her swollen little button against him - to these little hops. Bouncing on him with one of their hands locked together and the other she’s reached back, holding digging her nails into his thighs, “Reckon you oughta be the bunny still, Babe,” he’d groaned, head tipped back, which coaxed Y/N forward she smoothed her lips over his throat and slid her tongue against the skin, “Look how good you are at hopping.” 

After they both had cum (a toe-curling, body tingling orgasm that left Harry all wobbly legs and shaking) Y/N had cuddled close to his side, shielding the cold air from how it whips from the fan, blowing it around the room in harsh whips. He had fallen asleep so completely and wholly at ease and had woken up even more so, that the thought of leaving the bed ever seemed like such a damning feat. Of course, he had to, but that just made his whole day him ecstatic to finally make it home. He was itching and antsy because he knew that their night was going to be a good one. 

They had it all planned out -- the night before Halloween, they would get all their party out and have fun. The night of, they would stay in, watch horror films in the den while they gorged on Halloween goodies and laid about in their matching vampire Weiner dog pajama pants. He stopped by the grocery after his final meeting to pick up a few things, including but not limited to: more cookie mix, a wide variety in food coloring for the frosting, candy corns, jelly babies, more chocolates and a big stuffed bear dressed as a turkey (because they had already begun putting out their Thanksgiving and Christmas items). He nearly bought a heated blanket but thought against it when he realized that Y/N snuggles closest to him under the blankets when she’s cold, and while he wasn’t planning on freezing the poor girl out, he certainly wasn’t going to kick the heat up too high. 

He was absolutely buzzing, sizzling, mushrooming with an eagerness that has him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Dare he even garnered a bit of road rage on his way home, because Y/N had today off and she had been sending him pictures all bleeding day of how warm and comfortable she was inside, while he was out fighting off the brisk, icy chill. He sent his regards to every parent forced to Trick or Treat with their kids in this cold. 

Pulling into the driveway, he practically runs to the door, unlocking the knob and twisting it open. He nudges it with his hip, calls out to her, and when he gets no response his mouth falls open a bit. There had been a lull in her messages the last hour - an hour and a half, which only meant one thing when it came to her. 

After he had set the things he’d gotten in the kitchen, he goes upstairs to find that Y/N had fallen asleep against a done up bed. Harry sighed with a big scoff hidden within it but his heart swells at the sight of her, re-cuddled with the pillow that he had given her, but now all showered and cleaned, in the bluish-colored hooded robe similar to the one Harry stalked around in like a boxer hours before his ring match. 

His scoff had been enough to stir her, as she blinked, pushing herself up and looking around proper confused. She looks adorable and absolutely delicious, the robe fell open to reveal the soft, smooth round of her breast, “Well g’morning, again,” he reaches out, patting her but again, and she frowns at him, “I’m disappointed with y’a, Angel, you were meant to get the roast started.” 

“You said you would help when you got home!” She protested, sitting up on her knees so that she was level with him height-wise as he stood beside the bed, and Harry slides his arms around her waist while she flopped her over his shoulder, dipping her face into his throat. She breathed in deeply, shaking her head, “Disappointed?” 

“Categorically.” He teases but she groans against his neck and he laughs, “C’mon then sleepy thing,” he starts wiggling backward, holding his hand at her hips so that she doesn’t fall, “Let’s start it up.” 

The roast was a recipe his mum had sent over for them to try, one that she believed she had perfected into something marvelous. So Harry was meant to try it himself and when he came home, try hers, so that they could compare and contrast who had done better at it. He was actually quite excited that Y/N had fallen asleep rather than started it up herself because he enjoyed cooking with her, just as much as he enjoyed baking with her. She brought a certain light into the kitchen that would be missing and always complimented Harry’s cooking, even when he knew it was shit -- she’d find something worthy of praise. 

They get to work after Harry drags Y/N from the bed and giggles when she leans all of her weight against him to support her for a while before they got to the stairs. Once they get to the kitchen, Harry’s pulled the white floral cardstock his mother had sent it on, and got to work, instructing Y/N to cut the vegetables while he got started on preparing the chicken. Though once they had completed getting it ready for the crockpot, Y/N had immediately crawled onto the counter so she could reach the mixing bowl he always places just a little too high for her to reach. She’d dug through the plastic bags and seen that he’d gotten cookie mix and decided that was much more fun. 

She did the mixing, whisking with fervor to Monster Mash, having him sing into the whisk while he dumps the powdered sugar into the power mixer (which she had questioned if he didn’t trust her mixing skills as much as he put on that he did, but when he dipped his finger in it once it began to thicken and whip, grabbed her by the chin, persuades her mouth open and strokes it against her tongue). He gets the cookie mix ready to cut into while she powdered down the counter. She still hadn’t changed out of her robe, so every so often the soft peak of her breast will peek out at him, and he revels in it. If he weren’t in such a baking mindset he might have lifted her up on the counter and got his mouth on one of them. 

By the time the night was falling and he could look out the kitchen window to see people in their backyard, gearing for a party and taking pictures before their makeup smudged from their festivities. Harry didn’t envy them, and maybe it’s because he was still knocking away at the hangover he’d garnered the night prior, but he knows a large reason is that he is ineffably excited for his own night. To stay warm and cuddled close beneath the covers with his girl. . .it sounded marvelous. Maybe he could even trick her into playing with his curls, running her fingers through them how she does. 

When the roast was done and the cookies were cooled enough to cover in the frosting, Y/N had gone to set up the den while Harry made their plates and platters the cookies. He hadn’t really known what “set up the den” was supposed to mean other than get a movie started, but he soon finds that it meant taking every single blanket and pillow that they owned from every room and collaborating them into a massive pile on the floor. Their coffee table as -- well, Harry didn’t know where it was but it surely wasn’t where it was meant to be -- a fire had been stoked to a start in their fireplace, the lights had been dimmed low and she had managed to hang up these orange pumpkin string lights around the couch (which she promises wasn’t a fire hazard). 

There was a small little clearing she had made that was specific for them eating and Harry cackled when she set the cookies amongst the carnage of blankets. She was so proud of herself, a pumpkin candlelit and the scent permeating through the den. 

“Are we nesting?” He jested, setting the food down on the designated area -- Y/N had then since changed into her Halloween garb and had laid out his so he could as well. He didn’t bother going to the bathroom, simply peeled his clothes off where he stood, Y/N reached out to grab at his bum before he could pull the pajama pants on, “Christ, Babe, keep it PG.” 

“You’ve got too good a bum to keep it PG,” she tells him, putting her hand to her chest, “Hand on heart, I dunno’ if m’gonna be able to keep from eating it t’night.”

They eat until they’re stuffed full, slouched into the back support she’d created with a few pillows and comforters against the couch. Harry couldn’t tell you what movie was on, but it was something horrible, and gory, but with bad enough acting that he and Y/N could share a laugh. At some point she had begun scooting her head up underneath his arm, demanding that she rest her head on his chest and Harry reorganized his limbs immediately to accommodate her. 

He loved this; reveled in it rather, because Y/N was warm and he was moments away from sporting a love stiffy but he was too full to do anything about it. He dipped his face into her hair and breathed in deep, settling into the bedding more, with a contented sigh and dragging one of the blankets over both of them. 

“Happy Halloween, bunny rabbit,” she hummed, pushing a kiss to his chest. 

Harry smiles. 

“Happy Halloween, Grizzly Bear.”