Steve Harrington Costume Novels & Stories

Harrison said how nice my grin was. I was blushing so much at this point. The joy that had been on my face gradually vanished as I saw someone at the corner of the ceremony. He did not seem to be a visitor, and I had not previously seen him in the pack. He had such a casual outfit on. His T-shirt seemed to have been worn for seventy millennia, and he was dressed in black shorts. Harrison told me that our VIP visitors would be arriving soon, and he wanted to be there to greet them. Harrison diverted my attention from the stranger, and when I turned to face him again, he had vanished. People started to show up and take seats as soon as the hall was ready.

A ragged sound left me—almost like a laugh. “Why?” Zane raised a brow. “So they’re just going to make one shirt just because that’s the color I want?” I almost felt like calling Louis to explain this to them, so they could all see how ridiculous it sounded. “Yes,” the woman responded, “most of Mr. Harrington's clothes are custom-made.” Blinking, I turned to Zane, shooting him a sharp look. Zane stared back at me. Guess it was normal for him. I sighed. “I’ll take the grey.”

By this time, the children had disappeared from sight again. "Shit! When next they come around here, you're going to get down from the car and talk to her. Just make sure you bring her into the fucking vehicle." "What? What if someone sees and recognizes me?" "That's why you have a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. It's not like you're spending the whole day convincing her to come with you. Be a fucking man, goddamnit!" "Fine, fine. Jesus!" Steve mumbled. It turned out that he didn't have to wait too long, because, in the next five minutes, Harper and her friend appeared again.

Concordia, Six Hundred and Eighty Years Before Harithen, in gold trimmed eggshell blue tunic that emphasized the width of his shoulders and belted tightly at the waist with a sash that went from just below his nipples to his hip bones, the billowing material drifting out behind him like a sail in the wind, bartered over the fabrics laid out in the warehouse for display. He had opted to powder his hair, rather than wear a wig, and it had been curled so that it hung over one shoulder in thick sausages of ringlets.

I said trying to quickly distract him from coming to the inevitable realization of the situation. He immediately glanced over my shoulder at what I was trying to hide. It felt like he was a stressed-out parent who happened to stumble upon a disobedient child’s mess. Now that we weren’t standing so close; I could see he was dressed in what seemed to be an alien warrior costume made up completely of some type of rose gold armor with matching gauntlets, spartan style armor vest, and black and rose gold futuristic combat pants and boots with straps that had some cool light effects that made it look like they were glowing. He even had a mask that looked like a cross between a clear high-tech face

What the fuck happened to that? “B-but –!” he spluttered, “We match!” “No, you don't. You two looked like you're going to a fucking funeral with all that black like it was some inside joke and it's not even funny!” Harry complained, tossing a dark blue hoodie his way, “Wear this instead and look like Jack Frost!” He grunted, “Why do I have to look like Jack Frost?” “Well, duh!” Harry stuck his tongue out, “Because he’s hot!”

I guess he was earnest about the part he already forgives Steve and doesn't want to further the case. We all agreed to stroll our way down to the first floor of this house. While climbing the stairs, I noticed a group of men standing straight. They are bulky, muscular, and wearing black suites to emphasize their roles. They look like they come out straight from an action movie. Harry was in front of them, telling them orders. "You guys are going to defend the helicopter on the ground in case someone shoots at us…." I heard Harry's dominant voice echoing. "Helicopter?" I asked, and Steve winked at me, smiling proudly.

Cosplay Theme: The Dark Swordsman. "You look cool," Harper laughed. She was dressed as a Cyber-Valkyrie (silver armor, neon wings). It hid her real weapons perfectly. "Blend in, Sebastian. Everyone here is wearing a costume. If we dress like normal civilians, the facial recognition will flag us instantly. The algorithms ignore 'fictional characters'." Jack walked behind them. He refused to wear a costume. Instead, he was carrying a massive, life-sized plushie of a Pikachu-like creature. "It shields my heat signature," Jack grumbled, hugging the yellow monstrosity. "Don't ask."

My eyes widened—Hade, Hank, and Jarred were all standing there. None of them looked like they were headed to a business meeting. Hade wore a plain white V-neck and black shorts, his beanie pushed low. Hank was in all black—shirt, jeans, baseball cap. And Jarred? He was impossible to miss: white sleeveless shirt under a loud Hawaiian-print polo, blue shorts, and a beige bucket hat. His style was… painfully human. I hated it. “I thought you guys were going on a business trip?” I asked, turning back to rinse the dishes and place them in the rack. Footsteps echoed behind me.

I knew damn well what I was getting into when I accepted Jax’s invitation so…I wasn't complaining. The air smells of expensive cologne, excitement and cheap drinks as we approach the crowd close to the pool. The Hawker teammates are wearing grey hoodies which resemble Jackson's. There's no doubt that's what they agreed to wear to the party. The girls join the cheering in an attempt to get the “captains” attention, their voices too loud and irritating. Some are wearing way too short skirts, dresses, biker shorts and leggings with replica jerseys, while some have original jerseys which I’m pretty sure they borrowed from the players.