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writer-in-theory · 1 year

Note

☁️👀🛏️ Steddie

ooh thank you for the prompt nonnie!! ✨delicious✨

prompt: ☁️ enemies to lovers , 👀 forced proximity , 🛏 only one bed

build-a-blurb prompts || send me a prompt

When Dustin asked Steve to chaperone their Hellfire Club field trip, he should've said no.

"C'mon, man, you don't need a chaperone," Steve huffed while he rewound tapes behind the Family Video counter. "You're high schoolers, what's kind of trouble could you get into?"

"It's because of you and your stupid ex-friends we need an adult anyway," Dustin snapped back. Sometimes Steve wondered if his own attitude had been transferred to the kid. "Something about 'the Chicago incident'?"

Oh. Oh yeah, that was absolutely his fault. Steve shook his head, and despite all the bad that had turned up between them Steve still smiled fondly at the memory of his shenanigans with Tommy and Carol.

"Fine, whatever," Steve said, conceding to the blame. "If you need an adult, why can't Munson be the chaperone?"

Steve hated the fact that the kids hung out with Eddie Munson. They were familiar with each other, considering Steve had once been one of the more popular athletes in the school. Even after he'd graduated, Munson had made a point to show up to Scoops Ahoy to see the fall of Steve Harrington with his own eyes. It was safe to say they didn't get along once Steve stopped throwing parties that Eddie could sell at. And now Steve's group of monster-fighting kids had chosen to latch onto said dealer, the same guy who'd relentlessly ridiculed Steve at every opportunity (not that Steve hadn't done the same).

"Because, Steve," Dustin said with the same know-it-all tone of voice Steve hated, "Eddie's a student. We need an adult who's not a student to sit in the hotel. You don't even have to do anything."

That was how Steve got roped into driving half of the little shits to Chicago. At least Eddie was driving with the Corroded Coffin crew, so Steve didn't have to make small talk with a bunch of guys he'd never been friends with in school. Steve really didn't know how the guys got ComicCon cleared as a club field day, but the one time he questioned it Dustin had ranted for so long about sports tournaments that Steve resigned himself to never asking again.

It was fine, he told himself, and he believed it all the way up until they were pulling up to the hotel. Eddie was talking emphatically to the lady at the desk.

"What's going on?" Steve had asked.

"We're one room short," Eddie said, sighing. "It's fine, I'll stay with Gareth."

"Actually," Steve piped up. He hated being the babysitter, the rule-follower, but when he'd signed all those forms accepting responsibility for the entire group he took that responsibility. "You're 20. He's still 17. We could get in trouble for that."

"What? Dude, we've crashed on each others' couches all the time."

"Maybe, but this is a school-sanctioned event."

"Yeah? Well tell me, Harrington, where the hell am I sleeping tonight?"

Eddie had a point. Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose when the answer became obvious. "With me, man, you're sleeping in my room."

They both fought it, but ultimately, this was the only answer that would fly with the school. So Steve and Eddie packed up their bags and headed up to the hotel room—where only one bed awaited them.

"I'm not sleeping with you," Eddie says automatically, flipping his bag up onto the bed.

"Then have fun on the couch," Steve snaps back, shoving the bag back off of the bed.

"I'm older than you."

"I'm the one in charge."

"You sign one piece of paper and you get a God complex? Leave it to Harrington to be that desperate to feel important," Eddie says, every ounce of vitriol he can muster up slipping through with his words.

"Just go the fuck to sleep, I don't care where. It's been a long day, man," Steve sighs finally, shucking off his shirt and tossing it somewhere in the general direction of where he'd dropped his bag.

It would be a long weekend.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet

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heavenlyhandscribbles · 2 years

Text

Why do I keep thinking (of you)?

Eddie Munson x Male Reader Warnings: Mutual masturbation, drug usage, cursing, poorly written crush confessions because I'm lazy.

Summary: Y/N cliche gay denier + Eddie Munson high and horny = Mutual Masturbation

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi this is technically a kinktober prompt fulfillment, but let's ignore that i'm late and just enjoy.

The bitter smell of green filled the air in Eddie’s room as he and Y/N passed the bong, his eyes hazy and half-lidded as he looked at Eddie lighting the lighter, lifting the bowl as the smoke fluttered up the chamber. Watching as his chapped lips tucked into the bong to inhale, his eyes closed and soft and he imagined waking up to the same closed eyes and then he realized this weed was making him think shit he shouldn’t be thinking so he sat back and hummed to the music Eddie has put on. Eddie started humming too, exhaling as he did before muttering, “What else do you wanna do?”

All Y/N could think over and over was ‘You, You, You, You.’ And he realized maybe that was not a good answer so he responded instead with, “I don’t know, I’m kinda wanting to get off.”

Eddie shrugged, “Wanna just fucking get off here then? I got a nudey magazine.” He murmured, reaching under the bed and tossing it at him, “This strand’s meant to get ya horny anyways.”

He nodded. Shuddered. This felt like it was okay, but it still felt wrong. Felt bizarre. Like maybe he shouldn’t be saying yes and the reasonable answer, something he heard his father say, “Fucking a man will just make you a fucking sissy.”

He looked at him softly, “Uh sure, can I use your bathroom?”

“Nah just do it here, I kinda want to anyway.”

Y/N vividly remembers Tommy Hagan telling him something he and Steve used to do. Mutual masturbation was what he called it. He turned, “there’s this thing maybe we could do?”

Eddie glanced up at him, not judging. That didn’t feel right. He should be uncomfortable too, right? Eddie told him most of the rumors about him in the town were true, but he assumed that negated the rumor that he was a poof. He sat back, muttering slowly, “It’s called mutual masturbation, we uhm- get each other off.”

Eddie nodded, not put off. He almost looked.. Giddy. It didn’t exactly put Y/N off either. He sat back, his hands shifting as he looked at him with an almost confused gaze. First steps. Eddie was quick to shift the sweats he’d worn usually when Y/N came over to smoke, and on instinct Y/N looked away; shame.

Eddie reached out, glancing at him as he asked softly, “Can I?” His hand hovered over his belt, waiting for him to give a go ahead. His chest.. Felt warm- almost tight at that. He nodded, “Yeah.” He shifted, providing access just for him. Eddie undid his belt with shocking ease, tugging on it to get it loosened and nimbly undoing the buttons on his jeans. Y/N remembers- somewhere in the back of his mind- that some fantasy of his played out too much like this. Nimble, thin fingers, calloused thumb pad, shiny rings, tugging at the button of his jeans, but he figures he can investigate that later, after this, after he goes home. Eddie was quick to tug his jeans down a bit, muttering lowly, “Uhm- do you want to do it ourselves or..”

“We can do each other.” Blurted, stupid stupid stupid. Looks needy now, like he is too eager, shouldn’t be acting like this because it will only hurt them both.

Eddie nodded, muttering teasingly, “Alright sailor, don’t get your panties in a wad.” He referenced his outfit from when he worked with Steve at scoops ahoy, flustering a bit, “Yeah well don’t cream your pants at the sight of my panties okay?”

Eddie shudders, and for one moment Y/N thinks he’s gone against his request and creamed his pants at the sight of Y/N’s thoroughly soaked boxers. His hands are deft to tug down his boxers, freeing him as he let out a low groan at the sudden cool air hitting his tip. He thinks maybe this is it. If he dies here he’s okay with that- because he’s finally gotten what he wanted and- oh.. He wanted this. He’s wanted this for months. He’s wanted this since he and Steve dragged a limp Eddie through the portal from hell. And he thinks maybe this was stupid because he might fall in love. But he realizes he probably already has. He shook his head out a bit, thoughts empty and going a little bit stupid and big eyed as Eddie began to tug at his cock, suddenly remembering what he was doing there. He was quick to deftly tug off Eddie’s boxers, the return of the favor. His hands weren’t comfortable so he held his palm up, muttering lightly, softly even, “Spit.”

Eddie’s eyes widened a bit, before he nodded, spitting into his palm as asked as Y/N shifted his hand down, using the saliva to lube up his cock as he pumped it eagerly, eliciting a groan from Eddie beside him. He could swear he tasted the airy breath of heaven on his tongue at the sound. It was lewd, and filthy, and fucking pleasuring, the sight of his throat bobbing up… he wanted to lick a stripe up that throat. So he did. A stripe, all the way up Eddie’s throat, his teeth digging into his jaw as he ended the sloppy trail up his pale flesh. Eddie paused, his body twitching as he bucked into his hand, his own quickening to help give him the pleasure he wanted to give Y/N. Y/N’s eyes softened, his other hand reaching up and across his body, gripping Eddie’s chin and… kissing him. Kissing him with fever, passion and adoration, and something else all together. And Eddie- Eddie kissed back. He kissed him back without any sort of readable doubt. And Y/N thinks that maybe this is it. This is what he wanted, forever. He wanted this late night, high and happy and a little bit tired. He let out a shallow groan, his cock twitching in Eddie’s hand and he’s pretty close to cumming. He quickened his own hand pausing when he heard Eddie’s soft voice, “Hey- fuck- I’m really close.”

Y/N nodded, agreement, as he murmured out, “I am too.” He groaned, his cock pushing up as he looked at him with a softened gaze. Eddie looked so good- almost happy as he continued pumping him, murmuring lowly against the air between Y/N and him, “gonna cum?” A quick nod and a low groan and that was it, his hips rolling as he came against Eddie’s tight fist and his own quickened hand filled with the same sticky mess that was in Eddie’s. A breath, a sigh and Eddie, reaching over for a tissue for them both before they settled back. Y/N sighed, his eyes closing as he murmured, “I- I think I like you?”

Eddie stiffened, glancing at him, “What?”

Shit. “I think I like you.”

“Oh. That’s convenient, I like you too.” He looked at him, smiling fondly as he leaned forward again, kissing him, and with a pass of breath, muttering out, “Wanna finish up with the bong?”

Eddie nods, and leaned into him, passing it over with a hazy hum, content and a softer feeling filling the room. Y/N turned to him fully, his eyes serious despite the puff of smoke spilling out from his nose, “Wait so uhm- what does this mean.”

“Do you want to be together?” Eddie asked and almost looked scared to hear the answer.

“Yes.” Y/N nodded, surely, “But I don’t think I know what to do or how this works.”

Eddie let out a barking laugh, his hair bouncing and framing his face as he chuckled, “I figured, that’s okay, I’m willing to help?”

Y/N offered a gentle nod and a soft spoken murmur, “Yeah- yeah I’d like that.”

Eddie grumbled, grabbing the bong from him with a scoff, “quit hogging just cause you’re all lovesick alright?”

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MEAN THE WORLD

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x male reader #smut #gay mlm #mlm #eddie munson #eddie munson x male reader smut #reader x eddie munson

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hopewritcs · 2 years

Note

idk if you're writing for him but if you're writing for eddie munson could you do that prompt "small back seat" with him x reader? ty!

“IF WE GET OUT OF THIS.”

pairing: eddie munson x reader

notes: season 4 spoilers, obviously. everything background wise that you need to know is explained in the drabble. i went a bit loose on the term “back seat” and went with the boat. also...this drabble turned into a bit more than a drabble?

word count: 1.2

part 1 | part 2

How you got stuck with all this shit, you didn’t know. You got dragged into it when you worked at Scoops Ahoy with Steve and Robin, and you thought that was the end of it.

You had all moved on, now working together as a trio at the video rental, you were going to classes at a local community college too. But after everything that happened, you hadn’t wanted to go away to college--not that you could really afford that anyway, but you’d been thinking of trying to move away. After everything that happened, you just couldn’t see yourself leaving town when all of your friends were still here.

Looking around the video store you shrugged your shoulders, “Can we switch the video in here yet?”

Robin turned around to you, “Why, not a fan?”

“It’s not my fault you two out voted me, again!” You rolled your eyes, moving videos in the return pile to check if they needed to be rewound.

Then everything got cut off when Dustin and Max rushed into the video store and over took the desk, claiming to be looking for Eddie and needing to use the space for everything. You were barely listening, having hardly slept the night before and then you looked up at everyone when they were still talking, realizing Max had asked you something.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, the cops barely let me out of the place to get to work today.” you mentioned, pulling one of the tapes out of the machine and putting it back in its case. “Why are you looking for Eddie?”

Which is how you wound up on this whole roller coaster, yet again. Once wasn’t enough, for one lifetime. And this time, well, shit just seemed to get worse and worse.

So, that’s how you were in the middle of the woods trying to find Eddie with everyone. You stayed mainly with Max, walking with her and Lucas and not really talking about anything specific.

“So that’s your favorite song?” You asked, gesturing to the tape Max had in the walkman still with the flashlight in your hands. “Good choice.”

“I just hope it keeps working.” Max said softly, like she didn’t really mean for you and Lucas to hear it.

“What’s your favorite song, Y/N?”

You turned to look at Lucas and shrugged your shoulders, “I dunno. I guess if I had to pick I’ve been really into this one song by The March Violets lately.” you explained, shuffling for the cassette in your bag and handing it to Max. “I found it when I was looking for new music at the shop a while back and haven’t been able to get it out of my head. I think it came out recently.” You watched the redhead play with the cassette in her hands she held it back out to you. “Nah, keep it. You might need a break from Kate Bush, for just one song only though.”

Max managed to crack a smile at the comment, but Lucas was not happy with the way both of you seemed to want to make light of the situation. However you two just laughed and walked off a bit ahead, which was when you realized that everyone else had found Eddie.

Suddenly, you were wrapped in a new adventure and instead of just getting Eddie safely out of the woods, the group of you were following you the path to wherever the compass was leading you.

“Are you sure this is right?”

No one answered, except for Eddie who just looked at you and shrugged. Dustin was in front of everyone, heading for what he was certain was the gate that had been opened and now you suddenly lagged behind the group once again.

“So you...really have dealt with this before?” Eddie asked, looking over at you with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Almost like, even after all this time, he still didn’t believe you all when you talked about all of this. Not that anyone had shared details.

“Yeah, it’s...a long fucking story.” You said, flashes in your mind ran through your memories. Having had a normal summer last year and then suddenly, you were deciphering coded messages. Flashes of the Russian bunker under the mall, of being in the bathroom with Robin and Steve, of dealing with the mind flayer.

Of going back home to your trailer and being alone, not for the first time in your life, but realizing that you were really alone.

“You can tell me all about it,” Eddie offered, shrugging his shoulders. “Apparently we’ve got time.”

“Maybe some other time. If we all make it through this.” You added the last part under your breath, knowing he would still hear it and hoping he would ignore it.

“Oh, fuck no, you did not just say that. If?”

“I mean, I’m not gonna jinx it or something, so yeah, if.”

Eddie looked like he was about to say something else when everyone ahead abruptly stopped walking and you realized where you were. A hesitant look in Eddie’s direction confirmed it all, that you were in the place where Patrick died.

You could practically hear Dustin’s annoyed glare as you set off in the boat with Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie. Eddie was sitting next to you on the smaller side of the boat, with Robin on your other side with Steve and Nancy on the other side of the boat as you rowed out. Robin held onto the walkie with her hands, rolling her eyes as Dustin spoke into it already and you turned to look at Eddie who was guiding you all to where you needed to be.

Watching as Steve jumped into the water, Robin shifted to sit beside Nancy and the four of you waited, all ready for the worst and none of you talking.

The next happened so quickly, Steve resurfacing and then going back under. Nancy jumping back in after him. Robin leaving the two of you to go in after the both of them.

You turned to look at Eddie and he was already looking at you.

“I want to make some snarky comment about how they’re pushing us together, but I think we should go in after them.” You said, grabbing the last oar from the boat and looking at Eddie to see if he was with you. “You don’t have to, but...”

“Well I’m not staying in this alone, so if you go I go.” Eddie said with a nod.

You stood up and looked at him, holding the boat’s oar and readying yourself to jump. “Oh, I’m gonna kill Steve.” you muttered, shaking your head as you turned back to Eddie. “On three?”

“On three.” he agreed, standing up with you and looking down at the water.

You didn’t even really count to three, instead you just grabbed Eddie’s hand and went to jump in after everyone else.

When the two of you resurfaced in the upside down, or Vecna’s upside down, or maybe it was the same thing ( regretfully, you made a note to ask Dustin when you saw him again ), Eddie looked at you. “Oh, you owe me for that.”

“If we get out of here alive, bet on it.” You said, moving toward where you heard noise, and ignoring the way you heard Eddie following behind you because you distinctly heard him say,

“It’s a date, Y/N.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things s4 spoilers #hope's drabbles

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eruden-writes · 2 years

Note

Smut prompts!! Could we have Tabaeus with 71 and 7?

Ahahaha, I didn't think someone would ask for any of these. But, here, I typed this up real quick.

Potentially non-canonical light smut, ahoy!

“Y-you’re not… w-wearing anything under that, are you?”

The look you give Tabaeus seems to answer their question. Their shoulders hunch to their ears, embarrassment painted over their features. Of fucking course you’re not wearing anything under the towel you have wrapped around your body. You literally jumped out of the bathtub and rushed to the living room when you heard their enraged holler. You barely thought to grab your phone, just in case it was an emergency that required authorities.

“What do you want, Tabaeus?” You ask, crossing your arms firmly over your chest. “Why did you yell?”

Their mouth opens, then snaps shut as their eyebrows furrow. With their gaze drifting down to the floor, then to the television. The results of a racing game - a spin-off of Bario - flashes on the screen. You narrow your eyes, seeing that Tabaeus ended in 5th with CPUs filling the other ranks and… Ewan’s player name flashes in 1st place.

Ah, an online competition between those two. With suspicion, you shoot Tabaeus a look. They still avoid your gaze. “What did you bet on this time?”

Tabaeus mumbles something, but you don’t catch it. “ What?”

Heaving a sigh so heavy their shoulders lift up and drop, Tabaeus shoots you a furtive glance. “Who could ask you to the new moving picture you wish to see. Alone.”

A frown tips at your lips and, without thinking, the hand holding your towel in place moves to your hip. Your other is too busy holding your phone. As expected, the towel slips open and, after a moment slides completely off. Tabaeus tenses, averting their gaze once more as their hands clench into fists.

It’s only amusement at their reaction that keeps you from correcting the towel. You’ve already had conversations with both Tabaeus and Ewan, when it came to making bets involving you. Suffice it to say, you really don’t appreciate it.

As you stand there, hand on your hips and naked - somewhat damp - body on display, Tabaeus is doing their best not to look. Though, from the tented fabric of their pants, they’re obviously aroused. A thought suddenly lights up your thoughts.

You’d just have to make their bets less appealing to make, you decide. “Take off your pants.”

That demand certainly brought Tabaeus’s eyes to your face. Their red eyes round and wide, an almost sticken look across their features. “Why?”

“Trust me, you’ll enjoy this,” you say, as you pull up Ewan’s contact information.

Uncertain, but curious, Tabaeus reaches for the fasteners of his pants.

“If you’re intent on making bets about me, I will be forced to give out consolation prizes like this.” You read the text you’re typing aloud, listening to Tabaeus’s pants fall to the floor before sending it to Ewan. As you kneel in front of a pantsed Tabaeus, you hand them your phone. “Take a video.”

Their fingers fumble with your phone, but you hear the ‘bloop’ of a video starting to record. “Why? What are you going to d-”

Their question ends in a grunted ‘hng’ as you touch their erection through their underwear. You don’t glance up at them, but you feel Tabaeus’s gaze swing to you, watching as you yank their undergarment down. Their erection springs forth, bouncing a little in open air.

Despite their human-ish appearance, Tabaeus’s cock definitely deviated away from that. Your fingers curve around their ruddy purple girth, rubbing against the ridges along the lower portion of the shaft. Your other hand goes to their heavy balls, cradling them in the palm of your hand. With a slow lick, you trace your tongue up their ample length.

All the while, Tabaeus is staring down at you, wide-eyed and lips slightly parted. With the camera of your phone tilted to you.

A grin tilts at your lips, staring up at the dumbstruck vampire. Their eyes follow your tongue as you swirl it around their arrow-head tip, a keening whimper caught in their throat. You only flash a smile as a warning, before you consume their tip in your mouth. Their hips jerk with a loud groan as you swallow half their length. The other half squeezed and stroked by your hand, as the other gives their balls a gentle tug.

The sound they make churns up a heat in your core. You rise a little on your knees, for a better angle. Bobbing up and down their length for a few strokes, you’re delighted to already taste precum oozing from their tip. Slowly, your tongue licks along their length as you pull off, your tongue pillowing the head of their dick for a beat. A small glob of precum pools in the divot you create with your tongue, before you pull away entirely.

“Alright, stop the video now.” It takes Tabaeus a beat, but they process the request and tap the screen of your phone. The little ending chime sounds. As you sit back on your heels, hand out in silent demand, Tabaeus obediently places it in your hand.

You give the short video a once over, before sending it Ewan’s way. In the interim of your previous text and now, he’d answered with a ‘???’ reply.

Almost as soon as the video loads on his side, the flashing ellipses of the recipient typing appears. Wickedly, you grin at your phone, just imagining how the werewolf is reacting to such a video. Likely in a mix of arousal and agitation. Which was the exact damn point. That should show him to make bets concerning you, shouldn’t it?

Overhead, Tabaeus tentatively clears their throat. Slowly, you drag your eyes up to them, cocking an eyebrow in silent inquiry. Their cock, slick with your saliva, twitches as your eyes land on their face.

Tabaeus presses their lips together tightly. You imagine, they are biting their lower lip, hoping you’ll understand their silent plea. Of course, you understand it. Their erect cock is twitching next to your face, a silent request to continue. But, you’re going to make Tabaeus ask. While the video was punishment for Ewan, this is Tabaeus’s punishment.

“If you don’t have anything to say,” your words are thick with teasing as you move, as if you are going to stand.

Their hand shoots out as they stoop over you, cradling the back of your head. Their red eyes are clenched shut, perhaps to bade off any instinct to enthrall you. That thought makes a different, softer heat swell in your stomach. Tabaeus’s throat flexes as they swallow, as if trying to get the words to line up right.

Finally, in a voice thick with need and quiet with embarrassment, Tabaeus mumbles, “Please, don’t stop.”

#answered #tabaeus #exo writing #vampire #room & board #room and board #I imagine this is a naughty dream of Tabaeus's or Reader's #:P

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cosmictapestry · 11 months

Note

C7 and B16? The Agonies spa service combo

C7. bathing together

and

B16. massage

enough sexiness. Horrors and Agonies ahoy. and some sexiness. and the single saddest most Unwell entity to have ever existed. amen

@pratchettfan87 says that there are hot springs outside the castle and i say hell yeah there are

prompt list + fills here

The pressures of Lord Morpheus's position are harder on him now than they were before his imprisonment.

At first Lucienne hoped he just needed to readjust to managing his storm and his realm all at once, and that once he did the vacant exhaustion in his eyes would become less common. This has not been the case. Instead he seems to grow wearier, more distant when he drifts.

He talks to her, at least. He holds her hand in quiet stolen moments, loves her well in their shared chambers, comes to her when her own dreamscape runs dark. She wants to think she's helping. But though he becomes softer with her, more honest and forthcoming, his wounded existence drains him, leaves him spread thin and so, so tired.

She finds him in his throne room, staring up at the shifting stained glass windows. They seem cloudy today, the shapes indistinct and the light dim. His upturned face is bathed in the opaque gold cast from the jagged image of a star who had gone mad. He turns his head to look at her, and he blinks several times before he recognizes her. "Lucienne."

Today Lucienne is lonely, and she is stressed from the noise and the bustle of her rebuilt realm, and she is tense in mind and body, and she trusts him when she trusts nothing else. He frowns and his eyes flicker over her face, and he doesn't move, but his focus sharpens. "How can I help?"

"I've not been to the hot springs since you rebuilt them," she says.

Lord Morpheus stands there awkwardly still, and he looks away from her. "You deserve to rest, Lucienne," he says softly. "You certainly don't need my permission."

Instead of answering, she holds her hand out to him from across the expanse of the throne room. He stares at it, and he appears conflicted, and sad, and scared, and like he is as close to collapsing as he is to accepting any offer to bridge the gap between himself and someone who loves him. She waits for him to make his choice.

Finally he takes a step that echoes through his great hall, and then another, approaching her with all the caution of some once-bitten prey animal. She has bitten him before, to be fair. He stops in front of her and he stares down at her hand, impassive marble expression running with fault lines. His hand shakes when he raises it to hers.

Lucienne clasps that shaking hand in both her own and watches his jaw shift and his eyes brim with tears. His shoulders shake, too, his black cloak shivering with the motion. "I apologize," he whispers. "You do not want my company today."

She dips her head, tries to catch his gaze as it drifts from her. "You've decided that, have you?" she teases, her thumb tracing the sharp ridges of his knuckles. "I don't get a say?"

He flinches. "I didn't say that," too quickly, breath rapid, shivering intensifying, his eyes snap to hers. "I did not—you misunderstand—"

"Dream," she interrupts, startled, squeezing that ice-cold hand. "A joke, my lord."

He does not respond, he just stares, wide-eyed and terrified of her, of harming her or being harmed by her or something he is seeing that is not her at all. "My lord," Lucienne whispers. "My lord, come with me. Rest with me. I want you to. I am asking you to."

She watches as this calms him, steadies him, and he breathes, and the panic slowly drains from him, leaves him bowed and yielding. She holds his hand until he nods his head almost imperceptibly.

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them they are no longer in the throne room—they are in a cavernous grotto, its granite walls silvery pink and sparkling by the light of the sun gleaming through the open roof of the cave. Mosses and flowers and ferns bloom over the cliff face and cascade down to obscure the edges of a clear blue pool.

Lucienne and her lord stand at the bank of the pool, soft sand sloping down to the water's edge. Sweet-smelling steam rises in curls from the pool and the flowers that take root around it bow inward and sway languidly in its swirling eddies.

He leans into her now, the privacy or the heat or her patience cutting through his resistance. His forehead bumps hers, his hand cradled close to her chest, his shivers palpable in her own bones. There's an undercurrent of desperation in this soft moment, his eager acceptance of distraction, her need to set aside the past hundred years like they never happened. "May I take your clothes?"

Lucienne raises one hand to his face, pets his cheek, and he leans into it. "You may." Her garments melt away into silky sand and then into nothing. His free hand spreads across her lower back, holding her close to him. "Will you be able to undress?"

He thinks about it, and she kisses him to tell him it's alright, that he doesn't have to answer or know or make a decision if he can't. "Not right now," he manages eventually, when her lips have left his red and slick. "Later, perhaps." He swallows hard, breathes heavy between them. "I want to touch you. You feel real."

She does not know what it means for him that something might feel real. He is the king of all that is not real. And he is mad with it. "Touch me, then," and she moves his hand in her grasp to her breast and feels it trembling there. "As much as you need. I'm here."

His arm wraps around her back and he pulls her to his chest, embraces her, crushes her close, breathes harsh and unsteady in her ear. She' wishes he wouldn't wait until he is hanging by a thread to ask for a hug. She breathes in the scent of his skin, presses herself all along the line of his body, lets him stay there and shake—and she feels better, at least, because her home is solid in her arms and they are together.

Lord Morpheus pulls away before he's warmed, his eyes downcast, his expression drawn and uncertain until she kisses him again. "Whatever you need," she whispers against his lips. "Tell me, love."

He finds it easier to show her, as he often does, and he helps her to sit on a fluffy towel he's manifested under her feet, and he disappears momentarily from her view. She is left gazing at the sunlit haze above the water, obscuring blue water amongst pale pink stone and dark green foliage. She feels his hand on her shoulder, then the back of her neck, and finally she feels him sit behind her on the rise, his legs politely crossed.

His hands when they touch her are cold and trembling, but the oil on them is warm, and it smells sharp and sweet, and he pauses with the softest pressure on her shoulder blades. "Is this alright?"

All at once Lucienne is painfully aware of the tension in her back and neck and the grinding clench of her jaw. His thumbs rub smooth circles either side of her spine. "Not quite what I came to you for," she teases as though she isn't close to melting just from what he's giving her.

"You came to me because you feel alone." He leans forward and presses his lips to the back of her head. "Alone and weary from the burdens I've saddled you with."

"You misremember," she tells him gently, patiently, when her irritation fizzles as quickly as it kindles. "I have chosen every burden I've ever known. You have not."

This is not something Lord Morpheus can acknowledge if he hopes to remain in control of everything inside him, and so he ignores it. His hands shake harder. "Regardless," he whispers. "Let me help you. Please."

Lucienne would be a fool to argue when his clever hands begin to knead her shoulders, softly unwinding her tension, making her head drop forward in bliss. His palms run down either side of her spine, his long fingers sink into the plushness of her hips, draw back up and then down again, working softness into her frame. The strain in her back melts away under his attention.

The air is warm and wet and the sweat that gathers on her skin mingles with the oil, eases his movements, makes even the deepest pressure on her shoulders and lower back glide sweet and smooth, and she feels like she's floating in the pool already.

She realizes she's making some fairly obscene noises when he makes a sound in response, a comforting little shush that seems to jolt through her. Gods, his hands—on her neck now, then her upper arms, pulling her back against his chest so he can kiss her temple, stroking down her biceps. He shifts behind her, and he stills, again uncertain, and she guesses what the problem is, and she scoots back into him until she feels him hard against her arse.

With the unspoken permission he uncurls his legs, straightens them out on either side of her to accommodate the spread of her hips, pressed close to him. He does not move against her, just resumes his attentions, though without access to her back he's just stroking her now, feeling her skin, breathing hot on her ear. That's fine—she doesn't think she could feel much more jellylike than she does.

Lucienne tips her head back on his shoulder, exposing her throat for him. He kisses along the underside of her jaw, and his hands roam back to where she put them in the first place, cupping her breasts all slick and soft and cool, thumbing over her nipples, and Lucienne glances down to see the way her flesh spills between his fingers, the rich darkness of her skin worshiped by the pale of his own. Her head falls back again, and he gives her an approving groan, lavving his tongue over the hinge of her jaw.

She lifts an arm up behind her to wind through his hair, stroke it while he mouths over her hot skin. She is boneless, slouched, weak against her lord, sighing and whispering moans to him, encouraging him to pinch and grip at her until her spine is arching, hips pitching up, legs rubbing together in luxuriant delight, asking for his hands somewhere else in all but words.

"There you are," Lord Morpheus whispers, and his left hand abandons her breast, runs down the length of her body to touch between her legs. Lucienne sighs and stretches and mumbles lax encouragement that he takes in stride. He rubs her clit with three slick fingers, draws those fingers down, slips the middle inside her. "You are so beautiful," he tells her, choked, his teeth on her shoulder now. "Lucienne. My Lucienne."

She's practically purring, rocking up into his hand, fingers clenched in his hair. He buries his face against her neck now, mouthing up her throat, right hand tweaking her nipple in time with the drag of his finger inside her, the others tapping her folds, palm grinding on her clit. She is disembodied, wholly so, reduced to the warmth of her structureless frame held together by his hands.

He draws it out, doesn't give her more than that one finger—and it seems like he's just feeling her, inside and out, stroking where she's softest and warmest, and she's feeling him too, every slow deliberate slide building her up to a slow, burning orgasm that leaves her utterly nerveless in his arms.

Her lord kisses her face and pets her shaking thighs while she comes down, sweet approving hums and praise from his soft lips. She is still not quite in her body, and it takes long moments for her to return. She notices that his shivering has died down to a faint tremor, and his chest has warmed, and his erection prods her arse.

She endures it for several minutes more, relishing in his hands and the warmth of their realm, the release and the affirmation she's been seeking that has now encompassed her entirely. Then she sits up, and he makes a protesting noise as she stands, hands steadying her legs when she immediately stumbles.

As soon as she's stable Lucienne holds her hands out, pulls him to his feet, then stretches up to kiss him. "Help me wash up?"

Lord Morpheus glances over her shoulder at the spring, then back to her, and down to his clothes, soft black trousers and long-sleeved shirt since they left the throne room. His feet are bare, white toes buried in the pink sand, black-painted nails peeking through. "You don't need to undress," Lucienne reminds him.

Her lord swallows several times, and there's a crease on his brow that means he is going to be extraordinarily honest with her about something that is confusing him. These things are usually difficult for him to articulate and painful for her to hear. "I fantasized about this, when I was imprisoned," he says, and he cannot look at her, or at her face at all. "Hot water and being touched. It was my most desperate fantasy, the most pleasant feeling I could imagine, when not feeling became unbearable. It was all I thought about for months at a time. It was all I wanted."

Lucienne does not say anything because she is preoccupied trying to conceptualize that, the depths of the torment he's alluding to, the absence of anything at all but memory of pleasant sensation. Her silence makes him flinch and begin to pull away, though he allows himself to be held fast by her hands squeezing his. "I apologize," he says quickly, "I know it is—strange—"

"It is not strange," Lucienne interrupts with more fire than she anticipates. "Please do not think it is strange."

He stares at her now, wide-eyed, bewildered, but something on her face must ensnare him, because he tilts his head and doesn't try to pull away again.

"Let me give it to you," Lucienne says, and she runs her hands up his sleeves, feels him shiver in the wake of her touch. She searches his eyes and all the fractured glass of his expression, weariness and terror and confusion anchored to his bones. "You can have it now, my lord. You can have your bath and, and someone to hold you." His eyes well with tears. "You are home and you are safe and you are with me. You can have this."

Lord Morpheus is silent, and his throat works, and his eyes dart like he's fighting for his life inside his own head—too accurate a turn of phrase, and for her own sanity Lucienne resolves not to use it again. His shirt melts away all at once under her hands, leaves her touching soft skin that trembles, very nearly crawls, and he flinches. Lucienne is still, and she is silent, and he breathes, and his trousers disappear too, and he is bare and beautiful before her.

She takes his hands. She pulls him with her, her eyes on his all the while, and the first touch of hot water on her heel is so shocking she gasps a little. She ducks her head to watch the clear blue swirling around her ankles with her next step, and it feels better than she imagined it would. There was no hot water in all her lord's long absence. It brings tears to her eyes, and she smiles up at him, and he stares at her.

One more step back brings his toes to the water's edge. He is shaking quite violently again, and he is soft against his thigh, and a shudder runs through him at the first touch on his skin. "Good," Lucienne whispers, and she squeezes his hands, and she draws him forward into the water.

Lord Morpheus is crying by the time they are waist-deep, silent tears running down pale cheeks that have begun to pink in the heat. "Wait," he tugs on her hands to still her. "A moment, please."

Her thumbs stroke his knuckles. "How do you feel?"

"It's good," his voice is low, hoarse, his shoulders hunched high and stiff.

Lucienne knows him well, and she knows he didn't have to ask her to know she wanted what she always wants from him in their encounters—she wants him to feel as though his body of dreamstuff were mortal, and so he does. "Too good?"

"A moment, please," he confirms, and his eyes slip closed, and they stand there together in the water, and they breathe until he is calm, and then she leads him deeper.

At the far end of the pool the water laps at the top of Lucienne's breasts. She sinks down, submerges herself to the neck, and he follows, like he has lost the wherewithal to do anything but follow her lead, the way he always gets when his function is especially cruel and her hand is especially soft. His hazy eyes drift shut, and his breath heaves out of him, and he does not look like he's enjoying himself at all.

Lucienne pets his cheek, wipes his tears away with the hot water, cups his face while he fights for control of his overwhelm. "It's only water," she teases him to feel his breath, hot and wet on a tearful laugh. "You're alright, my lord."

"Safe with you," he mumbles, and Lucienne gasps, and she kisses him, and the hand not on his face wraps around the back of his neck, pulls him close. Her fingers twine up through his hair, tug it until his mouth opens to her and everywhere they touch is hot and wet. He moans with the slide of her tongue, shivers and keens when she moves to mouth at his jawline. "Lucienne."

"Relax, love," Lucienne whispers. "You're allowed to have this."

Lord Morpheus sobs, and he trembles, and he relaxes all at once, strings cut, resistance shattered. He curls into her, his head falling against hers, one hand deep in his hair, the other stroking broad circles over his back. That is all she does—she touches him, the way that melts him, soft pressure, no intention to harm him or leave him or trick him or humiliate him or anything he might convince himself she wants to do.

Through the almost-pain he clings to her, the rapture of his own fulfilled fantasy forced through the pinhole of what he allows himself. "Thank you," he whispers as though she's doing anything at all, as though he is not her lover asking her for the simplest of intimacies. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Lucienne shushes him, and she cries for him the way he hates, but he does not notice.

#it's so so so long i couldn't find where i wanted to stop #anyway. ouch and fuck and argh #cause of death: trying to be thematically consistent in my fucking smut drabbles #the sandman #dream of the endless #lucienne the librarian #lucid dreaming #morphienne #minors dni #x

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collecting-stories · 2 years

Note

Congrats on hitting 11k! Could you do 🌺 with Steve with the prompts 9 pls

ty!!! And thanks for sending something in, I always freak out and feel like no one will lol

Marquette - Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve comes to terms with his feelings for you after you tell him about your college plans.

A/N: I know this was just gonna be a blurb but I got a little carried away. Also I hope you meant Steve Harrington cause he’s my default Steve lol, so I wrote it for him.

Stranger Things Masterlist || Celebrate 11k with me

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The upside down was a weird phenomena to try to explain to someone who couldn’t even wrap their head around the idea that even towns like Hawkins had bad things happen. It might’ve been easier, if it was more cut and dry, if you could say “look at this really, really bad thing and now it’s only ever bad so there’s no complexity to understanding it”. If the upside down was like that, if it was all completely bad, that would be easier.

But it wouldn’t necessarily be truthful. The upside down itself wasn’t a good thing but not all bad things had come from it. If they had, you wouldn’t be sitting across from Steve Harrington at a diner outside of Hawkins, eating a seemingly bottomless basket of fries on what appeared to an outsider to be a date.

It wasn’t, you weren’t that lucky. But it was kind of nice to think that maybe someday it could be one. You hadn’t really known Steve when you were in high school together, sort of floating by each other, but being Lucas’ neighbor had afforded you the unfortunate task of knowing about the upside down the more fortunate task of knowing Steve Harrington.

“…my dad keeps saying community college is just a suggestion but he brings it up all the time. I mean, come downstairs in the morning and he’s like ‘hey Steve did you see that brochure I taped to the bathroom mirror’.” Steve had been outright complaining about his dad for the past twenty minutes, through an entire milkshake and a quarter of his burger. His voice dropped an octave when he did his ‘dad voice’ and you finally looked at him.

You were sorry to say that you’d missed most of the complaining, though you got the general idea, but you’d been staring over his shoulder at the view of the pike from the front window of the diner and drifting in your head. It wasn’t hard to do, honestly.

“Maybe you could go to a class, humor him?” You suggested, reaching into the middle of the table for a fry.

Steve looked like whatever answer he wanted wasn’t the one you gave, “why is that everyone’s suggestion?” He moaning, dropping his head into his hands.

“He’s not gonna stop hassling you Steve,” you had met his dad once in the last year and a half that you’d really, actually known Steve, and he’d asked you immediately about your own college plans. “It seems like a nonnegotiable conversation with him.”

“I fought literal demodogs and, and Russian spies and my dad thinks I wanna go to college?!” Steve replied, voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned across the table.

“Your dad doesn’t know those things exist.” You dead panned, “as far as he knows, you shit the summer away working at Scoops Ahoy. And then it burned down.”

“Yeah!” Suddenly he was reenergised, eyes meeting yours excitedly, “that too! He acts like I set the freaking mall on fire to get out of work. He’s like ‘convenient fire huh Steve, guess you can’t go into work like that’!”

“I mean…technically…” you trailed off, grimacing at the notion. It was kind of, sort of, the collective faults of all of you.

“God, this is so frustrating! He’s worse than all the shit we’ve done in the last few years!”

“I think he just really wants you to go to college and succeed. I mean, that’s how most parents are I think.” You shrugged. Your own parents had been setting money aside since you were a baby to send you to college and they fully expected you to do something that would eventually pay that loan back.

Steve deflated, shoulders slumping, “what about you?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve had the same ‘go to college’ talk with my mom and dad.” You replied, another handful of fries to your side of the table.

“And?” He asked, leaning forward slightly as if he was anticipating something.

You weren’t sure you had the exact answer he wanted or even if he really cared all that much to begin with. It wasn’t like you were his only friend, or even his closest. If anything, you imagined often that he knew you had a crush on him and probably just spent time with you out of pity, like playing with a kid no one else wanted to because you didn’t want them to feel too bad.

“I’m going to the same school as my dad,” you replied, “Marquette.”

Steve shrugged, “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s in Milwaukee…in Wisconsin.” You clarified.

If you could’ve described the look Steve gave you right then you weren’t entirely sure that you’d want to. He looked absolutely gutted and he just stared at you.

“Well say something,” you finally requested, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You hated that he kept on looking at you without speaking and the whole conversation was beginning to make you uneasy.

“You’re leaving Hawkins?”

“I mean, not yet. I still have to graduate this year, but yeah, then I’ll leave Hawkins.” You replied, shrugging your shoulders, “I don’t wanna stay here forever. I mean, I might come back but…I just wanna go somewhere normal where everything can be explained easily.”

“What if that place doesn’t exist?” It wasn’t the kind of question you really expected Steve to ask.

“Maybe I’ll never meet anybody who will tell me differently.” You replied. “We should probably head back to Hawkins before it gets dark,” you mentioned, standing up from the booth and grabbing that check that the waiter had left earlier on.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m paying the check,” you waved the receipt, “you said you didn’t have the cash.”

“No, I mean, don’t go to Milwaukee.”

“Steve-“

“You can’t just leave.” He continued and you were mildly aware that the few other patrons in the diner had overheard and were beginning to look your way, “I mean, I love you. Like, I was coasting before I met you. I just feel like my whole life started that day and so, you can’t go to Milwaukee because I’ve loved you my entire life, since the day I met you and I don’t wanna miss a chance with you-“

“Steve!” You tugged the sleeve of his jean jacket to get his attention, “shut up, everyone is staring at us.”

He took a quick glance around the diner as you let him go and moved toward the front podium to pay for the meal. By the time he was following you, you were already outside, headed toward the family station wagon that you’d borrowed for the afternoon.

“Are you not going to say anything back?” He asked, stopping on the passenger side of the car and looking over the hood at you.

“I don’t think this is a discussion we should be having because I’m moving, and not for months may I add, and you don’t want me to!” You replied.

“That’s not why I said I love you.” He tried to argue, letting out an exasperated sigh at the look of disbelief on your face, “okay yes, you said you were thinking about moving and so I told you I love you but not in like a ‘I’m only saying this to control a situation and I don’t mean it kinda way’. Yeah I don’t want you to leave but also I really do love you.”

“I’m still leaving…eventually. After I graduate and it’s only August! It’s like a whole year Steve!” You huffed.

“Well, why do you wanna leave?”

“I already told you! I can’t go out after dark or go to sleep with the lights off, if Robin doesn’t answer the phone after the first ring I freak out that something happened, I’m constantly looking over my shoulder and hearing sounds and voices and I just want to be somewhere that doesn’t make me feel like I’m losing my mind.” You admitted, “I love you too, there I said it. I love you too. And I’ve wanted you to tell me you love me since day one but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stay here when the year is up. I’ll walk right off that graduation stage and get in my car and drive to Milwaukee.”

“I’ll go with you.” He offered, “I’ll tell my dad I wanna go to uh, whatever it’s called-“

“Marquette.”

“I’ll tell him I’ll start community college this year and transfer to Marquette.”

“Steve,”

“If you can’t stay, I’ll go with you.” Steve stated, “problem solved.”

“That doesn’t solve anything!” You protested.

Steve opened his side of the car and climbed in, closing the door after him and sitting there in the passenger seat waiting for you to get in too. It wasn’t a long drive back to Hawkins but you knew by the time you finally made it home you and Steve wouldn’t be the same people you were in the morning. It was an occurrence you were getting more and more used to with every passing event, though this time there weren’t any demogorgans or mindflayers or upside down. Just two friends awkwardly proclaiming their love for each other over French fried and arguments about out-of-state college.

“Get in,” Steve called, having leaned all the way over the seats and cranked your window down. He was staring up at you from an angle, his hair falling somewhat in his face.

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“I’m not gonna take it back or change my mind or something.” Steve reassured, “I meant what I said, whether you go to Milwaukee alone or with me, I love you.”

#ems 11k sleepover #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington fic #stranger things blurb #collecting stories imagine

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ally-writes-many-things · 2 years

Text

I’m right here. (Steve Harrington) Part 2

Summary: After being away from Hawkins for a little over seven years, you return to spend time with your brother Dustin but things happen that may change how you feel about Hawkins.

Words: !.4K

Requested:

Prompts:

Warnings or A/N:

Tags: @sundarksposts @manuosorioh

You were in the break room with another copy of what the tape had said as you were trying to figure it out while Robin was the one who had the tape recorder. You just didn’t see what Robin and Dustin saw. You were completely on the side of Steve about how this was nonsense. “Excuse me!” You heard a customer say from the other side of the glass.

You ignored it and continued on trying to figure it out but the customer kept trying to get Robin’s attention. “Ahoy! I’d like to try the peanut butter chocolate swirl, please,”

“No. No more samples today,” You heard Robin finally crack.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re abusing our company policy,”

“Where’s the sailor man?”

Sailor man? Are they talking about Steve? You had to call him that at least once to see his reaction. “Sorry, he can’t help you. He’s busy?”

“Busy with what?”

“Spycraft,”

You heard the girl and her friends' voices fade as they exited the shop and Robin opened the window and rolled her eyes. “Kids will be the death of me,”

You crackled before going back to looking at the paper. “You know, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to be helpful because if this is something to do with Hawkins, I’m a lost cause before I’m not from here,”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask where are you from?”

“Califor-”

There was a knocking at the back door that interrupted you. “Hold that thought,”

Robin opened the back door and you saw a delivery man. “Deliver for you,”

Robin took the package and signed for it. “Thank you,”

“Have a nice day,”

“Yeah, you too,”

Robin went out into the back corridor saying Silver cat. Robin then comes back into the shop but leaves through the entrance and you follow her but you see Dustin and Steve making their way back. “You're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian,”

“You did too,”

“No, I did not,”

“Yes, you did,”

“No, I did not,”

“A trip to China sounds nice,” Robin said, walking straight past them.

“Robin,” Steve called out but she didn’t answer so they all looked at you.

“I have no idea what’s going on. Scoops got a delivery and she started acting like that,”

You three walked closer to her but Dustin called out to her. “Robin, what are you doing?”

“I cracked it,”

“Cracked what?”

“The code,”

It was a few hours later after the mall was closed and Robin had you, Dustin, and Steve

on the roof watching the delivery truck move in and out of the docking bay. You can’t believe you let your brother and some girl you just met talk you into this shit. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes,”

“They’re with that whistling guy, ten o’clock. What do you think's in there?”

“Guns?”

“Bombs?”

“Chemical weapons,”

You exhaled an annoyed breath. “Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth,”

Steve rubbed his face in pure annoyance. “Great. That’s great,”

“Hey, what’s in there?”

“It’s just more boxes,”

“Let me check it out,”

“No, I’m still looking,”

Steve and Dustin started fighting over the binocclous by trying to force it out of each others’ hand and they dropped it over the side of the roof with a loud thud. You four quickly ducked behind the wall of the roof. After your heart stopped racing you noticed that you were holding Steve’s hand and you quickly pulled your hands away from him and he did the same. You guys slowly turned back around and looked to see if you were clear and thankful you were. You looked at both the idiots. “You two need to quit acting like four year olds or you’re gonna get us caught,”

You four stayed where you were for the rest of the night and you eventually fell asleep. You were woken up by the sun shining in your eyes. “I fell asleep? Why’d you guys-” You caught yourself off when you only saw Dustin there but no Robin or Steve. “Where’s Robin and Steve?”

“They had to go back to work and I didn’t wake you up because the last time I did, you chewed my head off and that would definitely get us caught,”

“True. Do you have what you need so we can leave, I need to go to the restroom?”

“If you want to leave, go. I’m not ready,”

“Dustin, I’m not leaving you up here by yourself

“Ughh, fine. Let’s go,”

You walked into the backroom after going to the restroom and saw that Robin and Steve were sitting at the table and Dustin was standing up. They all looked up at you before Dustin spoke. “That keycard opens the door, but unfortunately, the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun. Whatever's in this room, whatever's in those boxes, they really don't want anybody finding it,”

“But there's gotta be a way in,”

“Well, you know I could just take him out,”

“Take who out?”

“The Russian guard,”

“What?”

“I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard. It's easy,”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?”

“Yes, Dustin, I did. And that's why I would be sneaking,”

“Ah. Well, please, tell me this, and be honest, have you ever actually won a fight?”

“Okay, that was one time,”

“Twice. Jonathan. Year prior?”

“Listen, that doesn't count,”

“Why wouldn't it? Because it looks like he beat the shit out of you. You got a fat lip, crooked nose, swollen eye, a lot of blood,”

“That just might work,” Robin said abruptly, running to the front of the store and grabbing the money out of the tip jar. “Robin. Hey, Robin! Hey, what what are you doing?”

“I need cash,”

“Well, half of that's mine,”

“Where're you going?”

“To find a way into that room, a safe way. And, in the meantime, sling ice cream, behave, and don't get beat up. I'll be back in a jiff,”

“Oh, dude. Come on, man, not my scooper,” Steve said, yanking the ice cream scooper out of Dustin’s hand after he licked it.

You accepted that Robin just completely left without any explanation but what you couldn’t accept was that Steve got beat up by the Jonathan you knew who lived here. “Hold on, please tell me it wasn’t Byers,”

“It was,”

You let out a hefty laugh and looked at Steve. “Are you kidding me? You got beat up by Jonathan Byers?”

“Yes-No,” Both Dustin and Steve answered the same thing.

“Who was the only guy?”

“You wouldn’t know him. It was a guy named Billy and he-”

“Billy Hargrove?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Long story that I’m not gonna share with my little brother,”

“Well then,”

“Sorry bud,”

It had been about twenty minutes since Robin had gone to who knows where, Dustin had run off to do something but he promised he’d be back in a few which left you and Steve at Scoops. You were in the back, bored out of your mind while Steve was slinging ice cream, every once in a while he’d open the window and check on you. You were about asleep when you heard the door open, you looked up and saw Steve walking towards the table. “Refilling the tubs time,”

You sat up in the chair and smiled at him. “Fun,”

“Hey you could help me refill the tubs if you so bored,”

“Why not?”

Steve smiled at you and handed you a bucket of ice cream that was named Bubble gum. You carried the ice cream bucket to the front of the store. “You take that one and filled the tub with the bubble gum flavor,”

“That sounds really difficult. Could you explain it more?”

Steve flicked some of the ice cream off his scooper at you and it landed on your nose. “Oops,” He laughed.

“Oh is that how it is?” You asked, flicking some at him and it landed on his uniform.

This went on for a few minutes before Steve grabbed the scopper from your hand and your breath hitched as you realized just how close he was to you. If you took one step towards him your bodies would be pressing against each other. He smelled of maple wood and cedar. You were just frozen in this spot. You didn’t know how to breathe much less move. No one has ever had this effect on you. Not even Billy. He reached out to touch you, but a voice had sent two flying away from each other. “What is going on here?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #stranger things #stranger things x reader #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #mike wheeler #eleven #jane hopper #joyce byers #jonathan byers #will byers

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theood · 1 year

Text

No one prompted this but I wanted to talk MORE about my fl oc, Larkin Colt. So, I'm using @ahoy-hoyy's questions! Under a cut because I'm answering all of them on my own ^_^.

🦇 What is your OC’s Ambition, and have they achieved it?

Larkin's ambition was Light Fingers. He has achieved it, at a great cost. Larkin has a False Star of his very own, but he misses his child. He didn't want a child, but, in the midst of Parabola, when the child was still a babe, Larkin held him, and the attachment was quick.

Sometimes, Larkin just cries. He thinks how he could have done better. For the child, for his crew, for Clarabelle.

He still feels responsible. For everything bad that took place. Larkin doesn't like to talk about it, but... the orphanage and what he did still clings to him.

If he could though... oh. He would let out his anger onto Mr. Fires. That damn bat started it. It was his fault. And Poor Edward? Larkin cannot hear the name without snapping.

🗻Was your character born in the Neath; if so, how old are they? If not, why did they go there and how long have they been there?

Larkin was not born in the Neath! He was born on the surface, away from London entirely. He came to the Neath when he was hearing tantalizing rumors of a heist to end all heists. Something that would have him set for life, he just had to look into it.

Now, he's been in the Neath for at least 5 years. And my, what a wild time it's been. Still so new to the Neath if you ask some and yet... he feels as though he's been there longer.

(While I view Larkin as being in the Neath longer, I have been playing for 3 years! His character however easily fit into a role of someone who'd been in the Neath longer!)

📷 Share a picrew of your choice featuring your OC’s design! Actually, here's older art I drew of Larkin!

His design hasn't changed much. I always wanted him to have darker clothing. Red with golden accents. His outfit is supposed to be a black dress shirt (sleeves rolled up), red vest, slacks and or dress pants, a brass ring on his left hand, and a few various pins to symbolise various things. (At the time it was merely a bee pin).

I'd like to redo his outfit now, to incorporate more devil motifs as it's important to his character. This is afterall an older drawing. His cosmogone glasses aren't even here!

⚓️ Which faction is your OC closest to?

If it isn't already obvious from the bee pin, and the colors he wears, and the scar on his wrist, Larkin is closest to The Devils. This wasn't a hard decision from Larkin. Ever since he first came to the Neath, as a young man he found himself drawn to the Devils and their charms.

While many in London speak ill, or warn those of the Devils, Larkin either didn't hear or chose not too.

Larkin pledged his alliance very quickly. His closeness with the Devils has made more than one Londoner uncomfortable around him. Larkin does not take it personally. The Devils now have started to welcome him with smiles.

♟️ Is there a faction they are totally at odds with?

While many can say Londoners do not care for them, Larkin constantly finds himself sneering at The Constables, has a personal distaste for The Church, and Society depsite seeming to do well enough around them.

• The Constables: Larkin isn't one to follow the law. And since coming to the Neath he's only gotten better at criminal activities.

Larkin does not favor the Constables or their reign. Given the chance, he will lead them on wild chases that lead nowhere, or hinder them.

🗡️ What is their profession? Are they satisfied with it?

• The Church: When one is close to Hell, to Devils, of course he isn't going to be attending church on Sundays.

Personally, Larkin cannot entirely understand how religion continues on in the Neath. And while he can hold his tongue, he will not hesitate to voice his own opinions.

• Society: This is more personal, a learned dislike. Some of higher society like Larkin, but it depends on how they personally feel towards devils, or the matters of Hell.

🌹 Are they currently courting anyone? Or trying to?

Larkin is a glassman Silverer. Addressed ad such and everything.

Larkin is... the Parabola holds both good and bad. With a few days of talk from his devilish friends, Larkin become one for them. He's gathering what he can on The Fingerkings to aid the Devils.

And, it pays fine. The travels through mirriors almost came natural, and it feels like he was meant too but it doesn't mean Larkin enjoys it.

At times, the Parabola seems to drag him further into it, and he loses time.

He wouldn't change professions though. No matter what.

Also, worth mentioning, he is trained to be a Spirifer. He handles souls well, but never for his own personal gain. Always traded back to a devil.

No. Larkin, despite being in London for a while has not courted anyone. At a time though, there was a devil. If you get close enough, he may just let slip he still loves that devil.

🦑 Are they human?

Yes! Larkin is human. As human as someone who's become soulless can be.

☀️ If given the choice to return to the surface, would they?

🥼 Does your OC have a favorite in-game clothing item?

Oh, how Larkin longs to feel the warmth of the sun. To see the real stars, to feel grass, breath air that doesn't feel weighted.

But he cannot. Unless someone could offer him the thing he cannot afford. Larkin has died too many times in the city. He cannot ever return home.

And... even if he could. How could he leave his child? He would need someone to tell him it is okay.

Yes! His brass ring. He wears it always. To show his allegiance to the devils.

🌊 Have they been to Zee with their own ship?

🔥 Which menace causes the most problems for them? Which menace causes the least amount of problems for them?

Many times! Larkin, though he may not seem the type actually owns a Majestic Pleasure Yacht!

Larkin is not a captain though. And while he does fine at Zee, he doesn't feel at ease.

🎩 What clubs are your OC associated with?

Larkin is often plagued by Nightmares, and Scandal.

The nightmares are a natural occurrence for Londoners, but Larkin tends to wear himself thin, and often finds himself dreaming more frequently. He also just seems to find nightmareish things.

As for Scandal, well, *gestures*. He is a criminal, and not all too happy to confirm to society.

Depsite the criminal background, Larkin doesn't garner much Suspicion! Perhaps it's because he's better at thievery, and being unseen, or it's the connections but he often doesn't need to hide away.

At the moment, it's the Dilmun club. Larkin isn't much into clubs.

🛤️ Which one are you focusing on developing more than the other/s?

Larkin, as evident by all these answers. I do have another oc. Two, actually. Icarus Swallowfern, a not-so-human seeker, and Mr. Devilbone. A Master Of The Bazaar who deals in Souls and other infernal goods. Runs a shop frequented by devils and often those who come trying to learn more than they should really know.

🎟️ Have they written anything for the Shuttered Palace’s court?

Oh absolutely not. Larkin does not have the time or patience! He has much better things to do. And ugh, being kicked out was so not worth the hassle to get back in. Why bother?

🍏 Free Space: Ask Any Question

I'm going to use this to talk about Larkin's attachment to the city, and how he proceeds around London.

Larkin never meant to grow attached to tge city. But between thr Devils, and his ambition and many other things he has.

He never meant to stay, either. He was supposed to steal this diamond. But a month turned into 3, into a year into... death. Again and again. And his soul, and Clarabelle. Oh god, Clarabelle. His false child.

Larkin is tied to the city. For better or for worse. And oftentimes, Larkin feels incredibly alone. He fears for the future he most certainly doesn't have. The devils like him but... he isn't entirely stupid. More often he is used as a vessel for information, not viewed as a friend. Larkin cannot count true friends on two hands.

This brings me to his relationship with Mr. Fires. Larkin cares little about The Masters of The Bazaar, or what they do. He is not above stealing from the Bazaar or working to be an annoyance at best to them.

However, Mr. Fires? See, Mr. Fires claims to love the city. For that reason you'd think Larkin would take interest in Fires. But, he can't connect.

Larkin holds a grudge. A long standing one, for Fires involvement with his child. Larkin wnats to see Fires as something to look to for hope? safety? He doesn't know what, but Fires cannot provide it.

And because Larkin doesn't forgive, and because of Poor Edward, Larkin would rather kill Fires, than to negotiate. Let Mr. Fires feel his pain, the suffering he shouldered.

Larkin teeters often. Logically, Fires is not the only thing keeping the city alive. But Larkin knows unlike others, Fires doesn't want another city.

In the end, Larkin can only hope that maybe someone will remember him, when his time comes. Or that maybe, maybe, the Devils weren't lying and he does have a place with them, and he'll be okay.

#fallen london #fallen london oc #Larkin Colt #His ''relationship'' with Fires is entirely like one sided. It's moreso a man struggling with guilt and trauma looking to dump it off on #soemone other than himself so he doesn't need to think about it. Fires doesn't know Larkin. Tell Mr. Fires about a Larkin Colt and you'll g #et at best a confused 'who?' or a much more annoyed Fires for being interrupted #But I do think the parallel of Larkin wanting to like Fires for keeping the city alive vs Larkin wanting to kill Fires is #good. To Me. TO ME! There is so much I wAnna say on it but I don't have the words!!! But it's in my head #Anyway this is SO much info. I had fun ^_^. Futher questions totally encouraged if anyone reads this

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whereistheonepiece · 1 year

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For the writing prompts a story about Cavendish and Law meeting again accidentaly (like he saves Law again or anything you'd like to write I just love Cavendish being a gentleman)

I love your icon btw!!

Why, thank you!

Originally I was going to set this after Zou and before Wano, but I took so long in answering this that Oda finally revealed what happened after Law and Blackbeard's fight, and that provided the perfect opportunity for Cavendish to save him (and Bepo).

Oda's going to release a chapter that contradicts this, so let's just enjoy this as the canon divergent fic that it is.

The Heart Pirates had been defeated. The Polar Tang had sunk to the bottom of the sea, presumably taking its crew with it. Law couldn't know for sure, as he'd been unable to lift his own head after Blackbeard was done with him. Law couldn't know for sure if his crew had managed to escape the depths, unlike their submarine; he had to trust Bepo was right and have faith that the Heart Pirates had made it out alive.

And that's what haunted him as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He couldn't know for sure the fate of his crew, couldn't know if they'd all made it out okay or if some of them had been killed in the destruction of the sub. He couldn't know if some had suffered injuries that left them unable to swim to safety.

Come to think of it, how much longer could Bepo hold out? Bepo was a Mink, so he was a stronger swimmer than your average human, but even Minks had their limits. How much longer could his polar bear swim before his limbs began to fail him? How much farther to the nearest island? Law, in this state, couldn't begin to picture where they were, so he couldn't know where they were in relation to land.

Would their retreat be in vain? Would Bepo come to the end of his strength, his stamina, before they could reach the next island? Would Bepo reach a point where he could no longer move his limbs, and lose his ability to float on his stomach, causing Law to slip off his back and into the sea? Law had no hope if that happened. He'd sink like a rock, and they'd have betrayed their crew for nothing.

"Ahoy!"

Law slid his eyes open. He stared up into the sky. Was he hallucinating?

"Captain!" Bepo said. "Captain, I see a ship."

"What's it look like?" Law rasped. He could feel Bepo's movements begin to grow sluggish; he wasn't going to last much longer. But in the world of Marines and pirates, a ship did not automatically mean their salvation, and Law would rather drown than leave himself at the mercy of an unknown adversary.

"Really girly and frilly," Bepo panted. "The figurehead is a huge white horse. I think they're called the Beautiful Pirates."

"Care to come aboard?" called the voice.

"Captain?" Bepo asked, looking to Law for his next move.

"We can trust them," Law said, feeling his lips curve in something approximating a smirk. "I know their captain." He and Luffy may no longer be allies, but Cavendish didn't have to know that.

"Aye!"

Cavendish swept onto the deck, smelling like roses and an inoffensive unisex cologne. He took Law and Bepo in with his large blue eyes, his lips parted in thought.

"Here," he said, slipping off his coat and fitting it around Law's shoulders. "You can use that to keep warm until we can get you two in a bath."

Law gripped the coat to himself, quietly shivering. Wearing Cavendish's coat, Law was reminded of the time Cavendish had held him in his arms when he could barely walk after Doflamingo had finished with him. Just how many times was he going to accept this man's chivalry?

Cavendish looked at his subordinates and ordered one to start on the bath, another to bring tea, and a third to find Law and Bepo a set of clean clothes after their bath.

The three Beautiful Pirates dutifully ran off to carry out their orders, leaving Law, Cavendish, and Bepo alone at the bow of the ship.

"I don't imagine you'd want to share with me how you found yourself in your current predicament," Cavendish began carefully.

Law clenched his fists in the fine silken outer fabric of Cavendish's coat. "You're right," Law said. "I don't."

Cavendish laid his hand on his hip. He sighed. "Well, you're welcome to stay the night. We're stopping for a supply run tomorrow. We can drop you off then."

Law let out a breath. "Thank you."

Cavendish nodded. He perked up when the pirate who'd left to make tea returned with a tray of three delicate teacups. "Thank you," Cavendish said, taking the dainty porcelain in his hands.

Law and Bepo took teacups of their own; Bepo had some trouble at first figuring out how to shape his claws to hold his cup, but he was grateful for the tea. Law looked into the green depths of his tea and imagined a miniature sea, with a miniature Polar Tang and a miniature, broken crew. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought the cup to his lips and sipped without testing the temperature, scorching his tongue. He didn't care. He took another sip, scorching the inside of his throat.

"What do you plan to do next?" Cavendish asked.

Law finally opened his eyes. He stared at Cavendish, with his golden hair, his delicate features. What did he know of hardship? "I don't know," he admitted quietly.

A sympathetic look crossed Cavendish's face. He nodded. "Then I'll leave you two to it," he said, turning around. He took a few steps before he paused, looking over his shoulder. "If you should need anything, come find me."

"All right," Law said. He'd try not to need anything.

"Can we have something to eat after our baths?" Bepo asked.

Cavendish laughed. Law didn't want to think about how pleasant a sound it was. "Of course!" He turned to face them. "How stupid of me. Yes, I'll talk to the ship's cook immediately."

"Charlie should be ready to escort you to the baths soon," Cavendish continued. He turned his back again. "I hope your stay here is a comfortable one."

Law inhaled. He looked into his tea. He said nothing.

Cavendish walked away, leaving Law alone with Bepo.

"Captain," Bepo said, "do you really not know what to do next?"

"I'll think of something," Law muttered. He just needed rest, a decent meal, and some sleep. "I just need time to think."

That was actually the last thing he needed right now, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Law and Bepo drank their tea in silence. Soon enough Charlie came to take them to their bath. Law wasn't looking forward to what came next—whatever that entailed—but he could use a nice soak. Maybe the hot water would be enough to quiet his mind.

Maybe, Law thought, but probably not. But he would try to take his time on Cavendish's ship as respite before he and Bepo got off on the next island, and then Trafalgar Law would come up with a plan to reunite his crew.

#cavendish #law #fanfic #asks #anonymous

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rebelrobin86 · 1 year

Text

Platonic Stobin Month

(Prompt list by @lesbianancyy)

Part 2

Protect (Robin)

Robin got up and walked over to the door of the elevator. "If there really are Russians on the other side, I've got your back Steve."

"I'll protect you Robin." Steve responded.

"You don't need to. I got this." Robin started pressing buttons and looking around for another exit.

"You remember at Family Video when you thought there was a ghost?"

Family Video (Steve)

"I didn't think there was a ghost!" Robin laughed.

"It did creep me out when the Phoebe Cates from Fast Times cardboard cut out was following me!"

"The scene at 53 minutes and 5 seconds, I used to haunt you til you asked Vickie out on a date." Steve reminisced.

"I still can't believe you pranked me like that, do you know how stupid I looked asking Keith to get rid of that thing?"

"It was funny!" Steve laughed.

Upside Down (Robin)

"Steve! It's not funny when you have nightmares, where you're stuck in the Upside Down, but Phoebe Cates turns into Vecna!"

Nightmare (Steve)

"That actually makes it funnier." Steve laughed. "I don't think we'll ever stop having nightmares about the upside down, but we both know being there with Phoebe would not be the worst thing."

"That's true." Robin smiled.

"Do you remember after everything when we all went to the beach for our free day?"

Free Day (Robin)

"Yeah, that was fun. We played volleyball and the winner got to pick the movie. It was me, you, Nance and Eds, but you tried to trick me into swapping Eddie for Nancy."

"You wouldn't go for the trade and kept Nancy on your team." Steve shrugged.

"It was good I did, without her we might not have got to watch Gremlins."

Vampires (Steve)

"I think we had to go to the beach to prove to you that Munson wasn't a Vampire after the Upside Down."

"Well he was bitten by demobats, it was vampire or rabies and I didn't want to take my chances!" Robin replied.

"I still remember you threw garlic bread at him yelling 'VAMPIRE'" Steve affectionately mocked his best friend's silly behaviour.

"It was a test to see if he was a vampire."

"A test?"

"Yes, a test that he clearly failed by screaming at the garlic bread I threw at him." Robin and Steve laughed.

D&D (Robin)

"You remember when he taught us how to play D&D?" Robin smiled. "He really got into being Dungeon Master."

"Taught Henderson everything he knew so he could take over after graduation." Steve remembered proudly.

Wedding Guests/Crashers (Steve)

After a while, the elevator operators came and got Steve and Robin out safely.

"Is it bad that, it was a lot more fun when we had to climb out the one at Starcourt Mall?" Steve groaned.

"Come on dingus, can't be late for the wedding!" Robin grabbed Steve's hand and they ran.

"Henderson?" Steve asked as he burst open the doors in the middle of someone else's wedding ceremony. Everyone looked very annoyed at them and Robin ran out laughing. Steve looked confused.

"Henderson wedding is the next room." The minister answered seriously.

"I'm so sorry, congrats by the way, I-" Robin then dragged Steve back out, before he rambled like she usually did.

Picnic (Robin)

A few weeks later, Robin and Steve sat on a bench in a forest. Steve's daughters running around playing, while those two were eating sandwiches and catching up.

"I still can't believe Dustin and Suzie are actually married." Robin smiled.

"It was even better when we got to the right wedding. Late, but I think they understood."

"Sure." Robin sighed. "It's weird everyone's getting married now, even Tommy."

"I remember you stopped him from beating me up. That was awesome, you're awesome! I wish we'd been real friends in high school."

"Me too but at least after Scoops Ahoy, we were like friends for life." Robin reassured Steve, making him smile.

1983 (Steve)

Steve was at the gas station, his face rightfully beaten up by Jonathan. He looked at Tommy and Carol and started to defend Nancy. They didn't notice Robin watching them, after leaving the store with a bag full of snacks.

"You know neither of you ever cared about her. You never even liked her, because she's not miserable like you two. She actually cares about other people."

"The slut with a heart of a gold." Carol gave a cold hearted response.

"I told you to watch your mouth!" Steve yelled back at her.

"Hey!" Tommy pushed Steve against the car. Robin didn't know why watching this made her so angry, thinking Nancy Wheeler was a priss and Steve was a bully. Robin couldn't stay quiet any longer.

"Can you two losers back off?" Robin yelled. Tommy backed away from Steve, both him and Carol turning their attention towards Robin, laughing like hyenas.

After seeing King Steve the Hair Harrington risk his reputation, standing up to the bullies, made Robin feel braver. "What are you gonna do about it?" Tommy got uncomfortably close to Robin's face, as she spat in his face. Tommy shoved Robin.

"Let's go!" Steve yelled, as Robin ran into the car. Steve drove away, they saw Tommy and Carol yelling at them as he kept on driving.

"I need to go to band practise, but if you can drop me off wherever we won't get chased by those two idiots, I'd really appreciate that!" Robin panted.

"No, I owe you, I'll drop you off at school. Thank you for saving me back there, I'll drop you off, then I need to talk to Nancy."

"Good luck." Robin smiled then got out of the car as Steve dropped her off outside the school. "Thanks for the ride."

#stobin month #robin buckley #steve harrington #platonic stobin #stranger things #family video

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tinyhockey · 2 years

Text

hi sweethearts!! i recently reached 100 followers on this blog, which is beyond what I ever thought would happen when I joined this side of tumblr in september last year. with that milestone and my birthday coming up this week (the 17th), i decided now would be a great time to host a celly! this celly will run from today, june 10th through whenever I stop getting asks. hit up my ask with any of the below emojis and let’s have some fun!

cast your mutuals - send me a 🎬 and a category and i’ll assign some of my friends roles!

doll shopping - send me a 🧁, a hockey player, and a specific doll line if you feel so inclined (monster high, ever after high, american girl, rainbow high) and I’ll tell you which doll they’d pick out!

disney roles - send me a ⭐️ and a player, and i’ll tell you which disney character they remind me of!

memes ahoy - send me a 🍪 and i’ll give you one of several memes and reaction images i have saved!

blorbo photos - send me a 🌹 and a hockey boy and i’ll show some favorite photos of them!

fmk (spicy or sweet) - send me a 🍓, some boys and a prompt and i’ll tell you who i’d like to do what with!

top 3 / 5 / 10 - send me a 🦋 and ask me my top anything!

song recs - send me a 🎤 and i’ll give you a song i love!

unpopular opinions - send me a 🐬 and your unpopular opinions (hockey or otherwise), and i’ll say if i agree!

ask me anything - send me a 💙 and any question you’d like me to answer!

tagging some friends and mutuals below the cut, but anyone is welcome to send in asks! hope you all have fun!

@jostystyles @sorryjustafangirl @boeswhore @hugheshugs @2manytabsopen @sportshaternumber35 @gigglyparker @orrsoared @thewonderzebra @ilyasorokinn @this-is-ally-and-im-confused @ryanpulock @hockstuff @titsbeauvillier @andreburakozy @iwantahockeyhimbo @joelsfarabees @kniesy @confused--castiel

and some non-hockey friends lol @hockeypeach @neuroweird @uniformbravo @sweetlykissedadora @koospell

#cam's celly #<- that'll be the tag if you wanna block all these fhsjnfmd

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 years

Note

For your 'Send me silly Descendants prompts, pretty please.'

Harry doing anything with the smee twins.

Hi there! Another one of those, a bit later, but still! Harry and the Smee twins!

By this time, the Smees have been in Auradon for a fortnight and Harry for about a week, because canon timeline is a suggestion, as we all know. And they get ice cream! Harry doesn’t kill anyone!

Anyway, I hope you like this!

„I'm going out with the Smee twins, Uma,“ Harry announces and walks over to her, to kiss her on the cheek. Because they are in Auradon and they can do that now.

She hums noncommittally in answer, so he continues speaking:

„They wanted to get ice cream with me, you know? Can't let them down.“

She chuckles, finally looking at him.

„Don't forget to pay for it,“ she says, amused.

Pay for it…?

Oh. Right. In Auradon, one must actually pay for stuff, instead of looking menacing, taking what one desires and occasionally running like all of hell was chasing you, and Harry doesn’t want to be a bad example for the twins.

Which is a shame, as he rather excelled at the previous way of life and „shopping“.

On the other hand, the Isle didn’t have ice cream, or, you know, food, clean water, basic health care supplies and stuff, so, yeah, paying it is. With not-knockoff cash, at that!

„Won’t forget,“ he promises as he exits the room and grabs his cloak. He should have his wallet there somewhere-

He pats on his pockets to make sure and ignores Uma’s laugh.

He then heads up to the twins' dorm, to pick them up; they run up to him before he even opens the door, and he isn’t surprised that much, really. He is quite proud that they can make out his step-pattern, if he is being honest.

„Hiya, mates,“ he greets them, „How are you doing? You ready for an adventure?“

They answer with enthusiastic „Ahoy“ and equally thrilled nodding; he lets them lead the way and encourages them to tell him more about how their experience at Auradon Prep was so far, fully prepared to hook anyone who would pick at them.

Even if Uma said he shouldn’t actually hook people in Auradon… Well, she didn’t say anything about skinning them alive, slowly cutting off their sticky fingers or just generally leaving them to feed the fish. Besides, she‘d surely make a tiny little exception, if needed…

It��s not needed, though, as it turns out. Everyone in Auradon has been almost annoyingly nice to the Smee twins.

Shame. He hasn’t had a proper fight in almost a week.

Oh, and Calista tried to take them to see the Skull Rock and on a proper pillaging foray, but he is not hooking his little sister. He might take off with her for a bit, though. The Skull Rock sounds infinitely more interesting than Remedial Goodness, from what the twins are saying.

They arrive to a road, which has a good number of actual cars practically racing on it, and Harry absentmindedly grabs the boys’ hands.

„Don’t run into the traffic,“ he reminds them, and maybe a tiny bit to himself, too. It’s not his fault that waiting for a green light on a crosswalk is so terribly boring and, well, Bore-radonian.

Finally, they stand on a small plaza, and the twins drag him to their favourite sweet-shop. Apparently, they have a favourite sweet-shop now. And favourite ice cream flavour. Good for them.

„How often have you been there?“ he asks, amused.

„Oh, only about fifteen times!“

Sounds reasonable enough to Harry. Even if they’ve only been there for a fortnight. Who paid for all of that candy, though…? They haven’t been stealing it, have they?

Guessing correctly where his thoughts are running, they assure him that they get an allowance from the Fairy Godmother, and that Ben has taken them a few times. Paid, too, of course.

Harry decides that the boy-king probably isn‘t the worst sort, after all.

They enter the shop and Harry glares at the tingling chimes above his head for a moment: They are crafted to resemble a rose-in-bloom and petals falling all around it. Harry hates its symbolism to Beast’s story – he hates Beasts, too – and the cheerful noises it makes. Each tiny ring feels like it's poking right into his skull.

When he tears his glare of the irritating thing, the twins are already by the counter and receiving their treats. Harry must say that the ice cream here sure does look good-

„What will you get?“ one of the boys asks.

Harry looks over the options, uncertain. Hell, he doesn‘t even recognize most of the flavours! How is he supposed to choose, when he hadn’t even tasted a fresh fruit until a week ago?! When he grew up on the Isle, where everything tasted like salt, blood, lost dreams, and rotten reminders of the past he never knew and the future that never could be––

„The red one,“ he settles finally, „Not the strawberry one, the other red one.“

The shopkeeper looks at him, confused, as there are at least three other different red flavours, but Harry just shrugs. He wants the red one, that‘s what he said.

„Why don’t you choose for me, lads?“ he tells the twins, and they immediately start arguing over the best red flavours. He smiles at them and orders a black coffee to sip as he waits. He receives sugar, milk, and even a small cookie with it, but he ignores it. Harry Hook takes his coffee black as his soul, thank you for asking.

He doesn’t protest, though, when Squeaky turns away from the argument for a moment and dumps the entire sugar-package to the cup with a giant grin on his face. He must have gotten that from CJ.

With half of the improved sweetened coffee drunk, the twins finally settle on getting him a raspberry ice-cream, which, notes Harry, has almost the same colour as his cloak.

And it tastes great, too!

He looks at the treat with new appreciation.

„I should get one for Uma and Gil,“ he decides, „Wouldn’t it all melt, though? Before we get home?“

„No! You see–"

He leans back contently as the twins explain take-away cooling-boxes, chasing away the bitter resentment of „they had this, this luxury, the whole time, while we lived on trash-“

But such thoughts are of no matter now. Uma, Evie, Harriet, and some other Isle and Auradon leaders are working on making things right for the first time in over two decades. And meanwhile:

„Will you help me choose the ice cream for them, then?“

#Harry hook #smee twins #disney descendants #fanfic #they deserve nice things #and that’s what they get!#ice cream!!#(ignore the whole vaguely bitter vibe Harry has going on #please!)

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