some quick doodles but i keep thinking of a storyline where stone gets into a relationship with female y/n and is encouraged to try and get sober
my spotify account isnt working so im having to put the youtube link here but i keep thinking about stone getting a love interest and skipp teaching stone how to be romantic and how to change for the person that you love. i wanna dig up all of my old ramshackle animatic ideas sometime because i had so many of them planned that didnt go anywhere.
⤷ summary : stone's smoking when he suddenly realizes you look really fucking good, enough to start fantasizing about you ♡
┊pairing : harry stone x gn!reader
┊content warning : mention of drugs/smoking, swearing, nsfw, stone and his horni thoughts, lap sitting, shotgunning
┊word count : 1.6 k
┊a/n : completely inspired by his bo6 skin
The dry filter of the blunt pressed against his dry lips like an angels kiss. Reverent and duly satiating his thirst for that divine high.
Stone sighed softly, the nicely wrapped joint dangling between his lips as if it were made to sit there. His iconic green balaclava was rolled up in order to free his mouth for a well earned smoke. Exposing the stubbled expanse of his pale throat and jaw. Hints of a moustache peaking out from under the hem but still hidden by the knitted fabric.
Normally, he wouldn't have done something so... hasty—like rolling up his mask—but fuck he was dying for a buzz.
The fact you were sitting across from him was hardly a deterrent either.
Stone flicked the wheel of his lighter, cursing as it sparked but never caught. "Piece of shit," he murmured, the joint sticking to the edges of lips while he spoke.
Of all times...
The pad of his thumb ground against the small metal wheel, the skin already rough from the countless times he'd done this.
Click. Click. Click.
Until finally, the damned flame sparked to life. "Thank fuck," he muttered, uncharacteristically gentle as he cradled its warmth and brought the lighter up to his lips. The pearly paper caught and burned before ebbing into a low simmer. Finally getting what he had wanted since this whole 'operation' had started:
A fucking smoke.
He set the lighter down on the armrest, leaning back into the loveseat he had taken up residence on. Sinking into the old cushions as if he hadn't a worry in the world.
Stone finally closed his lips around the filter, breathing in low and deep, allowing the sugary sweet smoke to skim across his tastebuds and fill his lungs.
"Fucking hell-!"
Stone suddenly pitched forward, the burn of the smoke forcing him to expel a series of almost violent coughs and wheezes.
From where you sat, your eyes flickered up with a glint of discontent, watching as smoke began to pool around him in a thin fog.
The mission-the one you were both supposed to be doing-was to track and report on the small cafe across the street. Noting who came and went through its doors, and more importantly, waiting for your target to show up.
And yet, despite your protests, Stone had still managed to conjure up a blunt to smoke.
You didn't even need to say it. Stone could already feel the contempt rolling off you in waves as he cleared his burning throat, still snickering and coughing until he relaxed back into the loveseat with a soft thump.
"Didn't expect this shit to be so bloody sweet," he explained with a raw tone, pointing with the end of the joint as if to prove a point.
Wasn't sure what kind of weed he bought-didn't care either-but he wasn't expecting the smoke to taste like maple sugar and vanilla. Sweet wasn't his thing.
It didn't matter though, because just as quickly, Stone was bringing it back up to his lips, taking another long drag and letting it sit like cotton candy in his lungs. The second hit becoming easier.
He breathed out deep and smooth this time, the light grey smoke billowing out in soft plumes in the space between you two.
He sat back, utterly relaxed as he watched the smoky tendrils lick and curl upwards towards the ceiling in an intricate, formless dance.
For a few minutes, his slowly reddening eyes dilated and zoned in on the sight... before his eyes focused in on your form from beyond the thin veil of smoke.
Your head was already turned to the book perched in your hand, eyes always flickering to the side to watch and lookout for the target. Probably pissed that he took his 'break' to smoke...
You both knew he wouldn't be able to swap out and take watch for a while. Not while he was high.
"You're a bloody buzzkill, ya know that?" he piped up with a grin.
When you didn't respond, he didn't push it. No point in poking for a fight when all he wanted to do was sit back and enjoy the quiet; Now that he had time to smoke his weed 'n all.
Stone let his head loll against the cushion of the chair, angling his blue eyes upwards. Both of his arms were now slouched up on the armrests, his legs spread wide and comfortably.
A lesser man would've fallen asleep right then and there.
He pulled the joint from his lips, tapping the ash onto the motel carpet.
The initial burn of the blunt had rubbed his lungs raw. The feeling akin to breathing in a fine, powdered glass. But slowly the elegant pain wore off and filled itself in with a syrupy feeling that warmed his chest and spread out towards his fingers and toes.
Every nerve in his body begun vibrating and buzzing pleasantly. The high wrapped around his ribcage like an angels wings and staying there. Light and feathery.
Stone had to fight the urge to chuckle at the feeling. Like his body wasn't made of lead anymore... but rather: replaced by a soft cloud.
The room now smelled acutely like a carnival; Candy apples on a hot day, the smell of cotton candy and popcorn.
He licked his dry lips, remembering to reach up a heavy hand and pull his balaclava back down. The silence in the room stretching on.
He heard the sound of you flipping a page in your book, and suddenly propped his head up. Not particularly fast, but the movement made his vision swim and stretch. Trying to blink into focus.
For one reason or another, Stone seemed completely captured by your presence. His blue eyes couldn't let go. Watching as the dappled sunlight filtered through the window next to you, highlighting the supple curve of your cheek and lips.
"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath.
The masked man nearly jolted at the sudden perverse grumble that slipped from his lips... so profoundly surprised by the sound that his eyes widened slightly.
Where the fuck did that come from?
For a moment, he'd worried you'd heard the odd sound... but you didn't seem to notice. Thank fuck-... but... not being caught right away made the thoughts come flooding back just as quickly.
Your lips, your hair, the curve of your neck and throat.
His eyes kept drinking you in, roaming down your body with a soft hot desire. The buzz in his veins only making the situation worse for him.
The blunt was making him really fucking horny, filling his head with heady images and fantasies of what he'd like to do to you should he be given the chance.
Kiss your lips swollen, bite them until they were raw and you whimpered into his mouth. To tangle his hands in your hair and tug at your scalp. Wrap a hand around that throat of yours and just-bite or suck or squeeze a bit-
"Fuck" he muttered again, realizing he was sinking further and faster into the deep end. Getting worked up for... 'no reason'?
Stone pried his eyes away, trying to loll his head back again and focus on the bland popcorn ceiling above...
But he was getting fidgety, his leg bouncing softly as he tried to think of literally anything else-but all he could think of was fucking you.
The seat of his pants began to tighten, cock swelling beneath the denim at the mere thought of being buried in your heat.
He tried to hide his erection subtly, placing his free hand on his lap and covering it some.
Couldn't just take a smoke and relax, could he? Of course, the sweet blunt and smoke swirling in his head had to make him horny.
He tried to curse the feeling, but couldn't find a real push to do so... His body felt too good. Too alive.
So, he lifted his head again, stealing another glance at you.
Its not like you were doing much. Just sitting, chin in palm and reading. Eyes darting off to the side to watch the cafe... too wrapped up to notice he was painfully hard and fantasizing about you sitting in his lap instead.
Straddling him, wrapping those legs around his and seated on his thighs like you belonged there.
He shuddered involuntary at the thought, wishing and hoping you'd sit all your weight on him right about now.
He'd wrap his arm around your waist and pull you down onto his lap. Grind your hips against his in a way that spoke of a primal, instinctual need that was building inside of him. To cradle the back of your head and card his fingers through your hair. Hold your face so close to his that your noses would brush. Your soft looking lips skimming over his teasingly. He'd take a drag of his blunt, reveling in its sugary sweet tang before he pulled you close, waiting for you to part your lips so that he could kiss you. To breathe the warm smoke into your lungs, to feel you breathe him in like you needed him just as badly as he needed you.
To share a smoky breath like it was both your first and last.
Stone let out a shaky breath, panting softly as white-hot desire wracked through his body. His eyes were red around the edges now, blue eyes blown wide with a mix of THC and lust.
His leg never stopped bouncing, and he tapped the ash of his joint back onto the carpet again. Silently debating what or how he was going to fix the problem now throbbing insistently against his zipper.
A grand gift giver. Not necessarily in what she gifts, because she's a hobo and can only scrounge up so much, but she makes a big show of it, hiding it under layers of cloth upon a wooden "pedestal", she presents it with open arms and a loud "Taa-daaa!!" She's truly proud of herself for making do with what she has.
Casual and cool for you, often speaking on your behalf and can practically read your mind just through observing every shift in your facial expressions. She can tell, when you slightly furrow your brows and slowly your walking pace, that you're likely insanely uncomfortable, and your eyes darting around just means you're looking for a way out. She'll lazily wrap an arm around your shoulder and keep you upright, assuring you that she can easily take down any threats with her "massive guns" while showing off her biceps. It gets a laugh out of you and probably provides some temporary relief and that's all that matters.
Defensive and naturally protective over those she really cares for, but will not baby you or hold your hand the whole way. You don't know how to pick-pocket? Tough luck. She'll give you a few tips and wish you luck before throwing you to the wolves, but if you get caught, it's your burden to bear and you're getting yourself out of jail.
And she stands by that- until she's scheming ways to break you out, only slightly worried for your well-being. She was just saying that back there so you'd put yourself out there for once, have some confidence- not get yourself actually thrown into jail!
She's quick to bail you out via breaking and entering your cell and dragging you along before someone notices. The police force can be pretty lousy sometimes, so she tells you not to worry about being tracked down and imprisoned again. She's surprisingly decent at soothing any worries with crude, carefree laughter and a heavy-handed pat on the back.
As a partner, not much changes. It's like dating a best friend you occasionally kiss or hug and can hold at night, but that's about it. Sometimes feels more like a partnership, just with more feelings involved. Either way, they're very present and there, and she'll occasionally get all quiet to say some oddly sentimental piece before returning to whatever needs her attention.
Brash, but never unkind. Despite your mistakes, she's always there to help you up and urge you to try again. May joke that you're a dunce after a particularly silly slip up, but behind the jokes and playful banter is concern and care for your safety, she only wants you to be able to hold your own if needed.
Skipp
He's my favorite
A sweetheart through and through- friends or lovers he remains kind, doting, and very compassionate. He's loyal and good at making you laugh, effectively easing any worries in stressful situations.
He's also an experienced scrap, like the rest of the trio. He knows the town's layout fairly well and has which alleyways lead to where mapped out in his head, which comes in handy whenever they're being pursued by cops or an angry mob of people- a common occurrence.
Tender-hearted and sentimental by nature, he values handmade gifts and heartfelt gestures over anything. He's pretty resourceful and can probably make some sick arts and crafts out of stuff he found on the ground and a couple sticks. It's impressive. He also values quality time with the people he loves. Probably considers and time spent together quality time, even if it's spent in a jail cell or ducking behind trash cans.
Often gives out apple related nicknames and compliments. Quite fond of cheesy names and gestures, despite his friends' lengthy complaints.
Very affectionate and gives friendly cheek kisses to friends, although typically only if the mood calls for it (ie. Mourning Stone's "death" by being run over by a carriage). Despite that, plenty of physical displays of affection are quite foreign to him, and he isn't one to initiate anything farther than a hug.
Grateful for his close companions and isn't afraid to make it known. Always shares food, even if it's half a crumbling cookie . He'll break it apart, offer it to you with a bright smile, and it's almost impossible to say no.
It's hard to tick him off, for he's pretty forgiving and has the patience of a saint, but can clearly defend himself and others and is good at utilizing what he has, which is normally his mandolin. Typically a pacifist, although those persistent in harming or berating the innocent and his friends will be wallet-less by the end of the day and possibly receive a solid whack from his instrument.
He's pretty good at making his feelings known, not just through words but facial expressions and actions. If he likes you, he may as well gaze at you with literal hearts in his eyes and give you the moon. He brings you bits of food and pretty trinkets "just because", most likely just to see you smile. Also gushes over you in private or to the others. They likely play a part as wingmen, since he practically begs them for advice. In the end, he'll gather the nicest flowers he can find and make a pretty impressive arrangement out of dry leaves and slightly wilted flowers, as well as apples and any other in-season fruits he can find around to help convey his feelings.
Stone
THE nonchalant dreadhead.
Cannot and will not make any romantic feelings known unless you do it first. He's also a little dense when it comes to any flirting that isn't insanely forward. He probably thinks you're being weird or want his money, which he doesn't have, and only gives you a look in response. It's almost painful having a crush on him.
If he ever develops the tiniest of feelings for anyone, he tries to drink them away, drowning them in energy drinks to either make them go away or simply to cope with the realization. It only results in him spewing it all later by the side of some building, and they only worsen if you're there to for whatever reason offer a clean rag or pat his back. He'll surely cringe over it later.
Doesn't do much to "court" you. He may thrust a singular rose at you, but upon closer inspection every thorn has been picked off and it's still in solid condition. Maybe he puts more thought into it than he'd like to admit. Either way, it's sweet.
Generally very closed off. He likes his privacy and has plenty of things to hide, but it's not like he downright hates you just because he doesn't think sharing is caring. May feel a little regretful for pushing them away but drinks so much he forgets it within the next hour. Probably tells people to screw off on more than one occasion so that he can have some crying time alone in some empty alleyway (I just find the imagery really funny).
Under the gruff and angsty exterior, he's rather shy and sentimental and does value those around him. He has a harder time showing it, but may sit a few feet away in silence for a bit. He considers it an attempt at bonding. If you're looking for a specific item, he'll go out of his way to find it on his next walk and just leave it out for you to find, quietly aiding your search. Your response may pull a reluctant, fleeting smile from him.
Not very vulnerable, ever. It changes and improves with time but he's still real awkward about certain topics involving his past or any relations. He may build up some pretty tall walls but with enough time and trust, they're easy to break down. Best way to show you're actually a very chill and normal person is probably to let your guard down first- no need to repeatedly prove yourself to nobody, but rather be comfortable and don't be off-put by him. It's surprisingly reassuring to have someone look at him as less of a closed-off, moody teen, even if that's sorta what he is.
Shares his cigarettes with due time, wordlessly offering a hit or two whenever you're alone. He shares with the entire group but it's a good teller that he tolerates you.
Sentimental and therefore kinda affectionate when sober, which is almost never. He'll begrudgingly accept it with a flushed face but is pretty hesitant to return it. Not big on PDA, the most he'll do is grab your arm or an article of clothing if he thinks you need to run at any point. When asleep in the cramped tent, his hand may snake over yours or across your torso, though it's entirely unintentional and he will claim you're making it up if you ever mention such an act.
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A/N: these are kinda just my interpretations of the characters, I have a hard time writing romance tho so it's probably quite off
Also couldn't think of a stupid fitting title so I works for now 💀
STOP TUMBLR KEEPS DELETING MY PROGRESS IM ACTUALLY GONNA CHOKE MYSELF OUT BRO STOP IVE REDONE THIS LIKE TJREE TIMES NOW IM GONNA CRASH OUT OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
A/n: I saw someone send DEATH THREATS to someone else because they didn’t agree that Stone was gay, autistic and trans. LIKE BRO. Calm down! Don’t make the fandom like Hazbin Hotel’s fandom. We saw how that ended, now everyone hates the Hazbin Hotel fandom
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“I think this is enough to feed us for the weekend.” Stone said as he looked through a purse that he and you stole. The four of you, Stone, Vinnie, Skipp and you had spilt up to go steal from the rich to the richest people who were so caught up in their lives that they didn’t even notice. “Alright! Let’s start heading back then.” Stone nodded.
You both walked pasted a toy store. Something in the window had caught your eye. A pink stuffed cat. It’s childish—but it’s pink…and a cat. You stopped and stared, your eyes becoming bigger. “What are you staring at?” Stone asked as he glanced behind him at you. He raised an eyebrow as looked over your shoulder. “No.” Stone said as he began to tug at your arm. “Wait—! Just..” You whined as tried to reach out. “I am not risking to get caught just for some—shitty stuffed animal.” Stone said as he sighed. “Please Stone! Please please!” You begged as you stared up at him.
“..I hate you so much.” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Come on.” He grumbled as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside of the toy store. A whole of rich loser kids were running around the store. “Jesus Christ..where is this stupid cat..” Stone looked around. “Right there!” You pointed. The both of you walk over. “Get ready to run.” Stone said as he shoved the cat into your arms. “3…2..” “Hey!” A kid yelled from below. The two of you look down and see some little kid. “That was the last limited addition, pink cat stuffed animal.” The kid said in a snobby tone. “Fuck off.” Stone said as he gripped your wrist. “Ready?” Stone turned to you. “Yeah.” You said, nodding. “Mommy! These scraps won’t give me the stuffed animal!” The kid cried, the mom stomped over. “Oh you scraps?! Thinking you can get away with everything!” The mother yelled. “Run!” You yelled as you grabbed Stone’s hand and began to run out of the store, only to be blocked by another person. “You think you can just steal?!”
“Shit..it’s always us.” Stone groaned as he slapped his face. “And yet we always get out of it?” You say as you shoved his shoulder a bit a smirk on your smirk. “You’re reckless.” Stone said as he pulled out a beer bottle from his coat. You took out your lighter and handed it to him. He quickly lit the bottle, threw it, grabbed you, before he jumped out the window.
As you both landed on the side walk, toys landing next to you. The place catches on fire. “..stone what the fuck.” “It was that or we both get stabbed by rich people who can’t even tie their own fucking shoes.” You both didn’t even realize that you two were holding onto to each other. “Gross..” Stone shoved you off, his cheeks only slightly pink. “Let’s go before we get blamed for this.” You said. Stone stood up and held his hand out for him, to which you grab.
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“Wait—so you blew up that toy store for a stuffed animal?!” Vinnie said as she titled her to the side. Stone and you nodded. “..those poor toys..” Skipp signed shaking his head. “It was not worth it.” Stone sighed, glancing over to him. He noticed the small smile on your face has you hugged the stuffed animal cat. “But we got the stolen goods.” Stone said as he passed the bag to Vinnie and Skipp.
To Stone, seeing your smile was the best thing he’d probably seen all day.
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A/n: ok hi again I apologize if this is out of character for him 🤗
Vinnie: “Ah, the smell of piss and opportunity. Entertainment square is where all the Lootbags hang out. Look at ‘em all. Riching..richly…”
Vinnie leaned back into the alley to face Maggot, who’s being held by Skipp. Y/N and Stone being next to them.
Vinnie: “Anyway, today Skipp is gonna teach you how we get the money from their pockets into ours. And one way we can guarantee major handfuls is with our secret weapon! Y/N!”
Vinnie casually brings Y/N to her side. Your nerves suddenly spike as you grow nervous at the thought of going out into public.
Y/N: “Me? Oh geez, Vinnie. I-I don’t know. The last time, you dolled me up in some snazzy outfit and it drew in a large crowd! They were everywhere…”
Vinnie: “It won’t be like last time, you’ll just be lookin’ like a good ol’ Scrap like us!”
Vinnie: “You’ve got this, you three. Now go eat the rich! Frickin’ devour them, dudes!”
Skipp: “Come on, Y/N. I’ll be there for you!”
You didn’t really like attention being drawn on you, but with Skipp and Vinnie encouraging you…god damn it. Alright, you’ll do this for the others!
Vinnie gave you an enthusiastic pat on the back to calm your nerves as you, Skipp, and Maggot head out to entertainment square, Stone lighting up a cigarette during this.
Stone: “Vinnie, do you remember how we didn’t make enough pickpocketing last week, so we had to use Y/N or else we’d be eating shoes?”
Vinnie: “Eh, Y/N didn’t seem to mind. Get them up in proper clothes and the rich were just eating them up! Woo boy, did we make quite the killin’!”
Stone: “We had to literally fight to get them back here, we can’t just keep using them like that to get by, let alone trying to raise a baby by using them.”
Vinnie: “Oh yeah, hehe I remember! You were tossing those fuckin’ firebombs like crazy, never seen you fight that actively. You got a soft spot for pal Y/N?”
Stone turned his gaze away from Vinnie, not wanting to admit it, but the slight tinge of red on his face betrayed his outward mood. Vinnie gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder.
Vinnie: “Hey hey, I get it. Look at me, I’m hella soft for them too, and so does Skipp. And I’m sure Maggot will too. I promise that if anything happens to them, we’ll bust ‘em out like always. We gotta stick together, y’know?”
Stone kept his gaze from Vinnie, but his expression does soften up.
Beatboxing is heard in the distance as Vinnie lightens up.
