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fag4dykestobin · 7 months

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yesterday, i wrote a little snippet of a steve coming out scene that had been living in my head for a bit, and i thought that that was it. and then i kept writing little snippets until this was nearly 3k words long <3 so. enjoy!!

Steve looks up at the popcorn ceiling, heart beating, beating, beating, nearly out of… his… chest. Steve doesn’t look at Robin, but… he… knows that Robin is looking at… her?

“Feel like we should be in the bathroom for this,” Steve croaks. Robin huffs out a laugh.

“We can move in there, if you want. My parent’s probably won’t need to use it, they’re in bed already.”

Steve shakes… her…? his. His(/her?) head. “No. I feel better in here.”

“Okay.” And then it’s quiet, between them, and it’s up to Steve to fill that silence. Awesome. Steve can do that. Well, Steve could do that, usually, but unfortunately there is something in Steve’s throat that is blocking everything and anything from coming out of it. Maybe Robin will just let him(/her?) sit here in silence forever, until they both fall asleep, and then when they wake up in the morning they can go along with their lives like there’s nothing building up in Steve’s soul, clawing and raging and desperate to come out.

Robin shifts, so that their feet, propped on the wall in front of them, are touching. It’s enough to get Steve going.

“You know when we were in the Russian base, and you said the thing about your life being one big error?”

Robin made a noise of affirmation.

“Were you talking about, like, being gay?”

Robin sits with the question for a few moments. “... Mostly,” is the answer she decides to go with. Steve waits for her to elaborate.

“I guess it was like, well. Some of it had to do with how we ended up in the Russian base, right? It didn’t feel real. Or like it was supposed to happen. But it also felt like just one more thing in my life that went wrong, and I kinda connect all the bad things that happen to me with me being a lesbian.” There’s a beat of silence. “Which I know isn’t really good. But I’ve been doing it for a while, so it’s hard to stop.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel like that? About being, um, half-gay?” The term they’ve landed on for Steve’s sexuality is kind of ridiculous, but neither of them could think of anything better for it. And it’s not like they really refer to it by name outside of hushed and rare conversations like this one.

“I guess?” Steve thinks on it a little. “Not really. Not like you, at least. It’s, like…” Steve lets himself(/herself?) brush against the problem in his(/her?) brain. Think about it for more than a fleeting moment.

Terror envelopes him(/her?)(cut that shit out pick one and stick to it). Steve tries to think through it, but it’s kind of hard to breathe.

“It’s more about, um. I don’t know. I… It feels stupid.” It feels wrong. It feels criminal.

“I won’t think you’re stupid,” Robin says, so earnestly, like she believes it. Oh, that’s horrible to think about her. Steve screws his eyes shut. Steve screws her eyes shut.

Pick one. (pick he.) And stick to it.

“Sometimes I… mmm. Sometimes I… Robin, if you—” Steve cuts himself off. This feels evil, what he’s about to say. Maybe more evil than what he is. “If I what?” Robin sounds concerned. Like, worried concerned. It makes Steve want to stop everything and wrap her up in a big hug and never talk about this again. Besides, what was Steve even going to say? Robin, if you hate me after this… what? What does he want her to do? Robin, if you hate me after what I say, please don’t.

If Robin hated Steve for this, he might just die.

“Steve? Are you okay?” Robin takes her legs down from the wall and sits up, leans over Steve, trying to get a good look at his face. Steve covers his eyes with his hands.

“I don’t know. I don’t— eugh.” Steve gulps in a big breath, “Robin, if you— hate me, um—”

“No! No no no no no! No! Steve, look at me! Right now!” Steve wants to, but that might make him actually cry. Steve digs her palms into her eyes. No. His palms, his eyes.

God.

“Steve, Evie, please. Please.” The nickname makes Steve’s eyes water. He swipes at them to make them go away, but they keep flowing. Okay, this is going a bit disastrously. The most important thing to do right now is keep his eyes closed and not look at Robin, or else he might shatter into a million little pieces.

“No, I— let me just— I don’t want you to—”

“I won’t hate you, ever. For anything. Are you okay?” Robin sounds miserably anxious. You can’t promise that, Steve wants to bite out. He swallows it. Steve has to trust Robin, because if she can’t, maybe she truly isn’t meant to be like this. Maybe Robin won’t hate him, maybe Robin will help him fix it.

“Sometimes I think about being a girl.”

The words sit heavy between them. Steve kind of wants to throw up about it.

“... Okay.” Robin says. She sounds a little breathless. Steve tries to imagine the look on her face, but can’t imagine it through the fuzz of terror. And like hell will he open his eyes.

“... Okay?” Steve croaks, after Robin fails to elaborate.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” She still has that breathless note in her voice, but it’s more like an aftermath-of-anxiety breathlessness than still-actively-anxious breathlessness.

Steve worries that he’s(.../she’s?) downplayed the problem here. Steve swallows, mouth dry, throat dry.

“No, I, I don’t just think about it, I like thinking about it. I like it when, um, the kids make fun of me by calling me, a, a mom, and I like when you or Max or El paints my nails, and I, I think about stealing your clothes sometimes and it makes me want to kill myself but I can’t, I can’t stop, I…” Steve is now hyperventilating.

Robin tackles Steve, and Steve’s horrible, traitorous mind wonders if she’ll wrap her hands around his(/her?) throat and kill her(/him?) rather than let him(her?) leave this room.

Steve opens her(/his?) mouth to, who knows, tell her that it’s okay? That he(/she?) understands? That she(/he?) loves her? But nothing comes out, and after a second, Steve realizes that it’s a hug. Obviously. And then Steve starts sobbing.

It takes a few minutes for Steve to stop losing… his? her? God, the thought of either makes Steve want to puke. It takes a few minutes for Steve to stop losing Steve’s mind. And Robin strokes Steve’s hair the whole time, and holds Steve the whole time, and whispers that it’s okay and that she loves Steve, the whole time. It kind of prolongs the sobbing, in a way, because Steve just can’t believe it. But Steve does eventually calm down.

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

Steve sniffles and swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

“It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Well,” says Robin, and then she pauses, like she’s thinking. Steve lets her. There’s a headache brewing in Steve’s temple, and the silence is nice, in a way.

“Well,” Robin starts up again. “I don’t think you’re weird, or messed up, and I definitely don’t hate you. We’ve seen bad things and bad people. And you’re not bad.”

“Well, I… if I’m not bad, or weird, for this, I don’t know what I am.” Steve can hardly believe how well Robin is taking this. It really shouldn’t surprise Steve at all, because Robin is so, so good, but this is something that Steve hates, and they’re usually a united front on that, when it really matters.

So… maybe Robin is right.

Robin climbs off of Steve, lays down next to Steve again. But instead of propping her legs up on the wall, like Steve for some goddamn reason is still doing, she curls next to Steve, facing Steve. Looking at Steve. Still holding Steve’s hands.

“We’ll figure it out.” She squeezes. Steve squeezes right back, and keeps the grip tight.

“Okay.”

They sit in silence, and Steve just… breathes. Tries to will the headache away; not happening, ugh. Drops the legs from the wall. Steve plays with Robin’s fingers, not even trying to process what had happened yet. That can wait til later.

After a few minutes, Robin speaks up again. “Are you okay with questions? If not, that’s fine.” And Steve knows she means it. She will totally drop it for the night and let them settle down and watch a movie or three. But Steve doesn’t really want that right now. Steve wants to stay in this space where, at least for now, what Steve is feeling is fine, and alright. Steve’s never had that before, for this.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “They’re okay.” Maybe they can do the figuring out thing right now. Maybe all of Steve’s problems will be solved tonight. Wouldn’t that be a relief? Robin pulls her hands away, and Steve hears the rasping of her shirt material being rubbed together between her fingers.

“So… do you want to be a girl?” The question doesn’t sound harsh leaving Robin’s mouth, but the words are heavy. It makes alarm bells ring in Steve’s head, forbidden question! Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it! Years of routine repression make it hard for Steve to even consider the question, but Steve tries. Slowly and agonizingly, Steve thinks about it. It genuinely takes a few minutes, but Robin can clearly sense that Steve is thinking about it, so she doesn’t interrupt. Steve loves her so much.

“Kinda,” Steve whispers. “It’s… I don’t know. Really. It’s stupid.”

“Nuh-uh. No stupid stuff right now. Just say how you feel.”

“I kinda wanna be half-girl. Like how I’m half-gay.” It feels stupid. It feels evil. It feels way too indulgent. Even in a perfect world, it’s one or the other. Steve can’t, like, hog them both. They cancel each other out. Right?

“Uh-huh?” Robin is prompting Steve to go on. Oh God.

“Um. Like. I still… like the guy parts of me, you know? I still like being a guy.” That feels really important to emphasize. Steve feels kind of insane, talking like this, actually getting Steve’s thoughts out into the real world. But Robin is still listening, no judgment. It kind of makes Steve want to cry again, but that would make the headache worse so, no thanks. “But I… I like the girl parts, too. I like when you call me Evie, but I don’t want you to stop calling me Steve.”

Steve can feel Robin shift, like she’s nodding. “Okay,” she says again.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. You can… you can be a half-girl, half-guy.” And it sounds simple and a little obscene, when she says it. Maybe not obscene. Maybe more like tantalizing.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispers. “Is that, like… allowed?”

Steve finally turns to look at Robin. Her eyes are big and full of thought. It feels stupid, thinking like that, but there’s nothing else to describe it. Steve can see the thoughts dancing around in her pupils and irises and whatever else is in an eye. It’s so beautiful. Steve loves her so much.

“... I think that you can do whatever you want,” Robin whispers back. “And be whatever you want.”

Steve’s face crumples, just a little bit. Not enough that it means tears, but enough to bring the idea to mind. Steve pinches Steve’s nose. “It can’t be that simple, though.”

Robin tilts her head in a way that can only be described as birdlike. She hates when people compare her to birds, just because of her name, but it fits right now, in the secrecy of Steve’s brain. She looks serious and intent. “Why not?”

“Nobody has ever done this before. I think.”

“Nobody that we know of. We live in Hawkins, Steve, we know like, 500 people. There are probably people in New York, or Chicago, or whatever, that feel exactly like you.”

Steve can’t reconcile with that. It feels so lonely, being like this. It feels inherently lonely.

“And even if you are the only one in the world that feels like this… Well, that’s fine! You can be whoever you want! Especially around me.” Robin grabs Steve’s hands in her own. Her hands are always so cold. Steve loves to hold them and feel them warm up bit by bit. It’s grounding, especially right now.

“I don’t want you to hide yourself. Not from me. I hid for so long, around everyone else, and it was killing me.” Robin’s eyes bore into Steve’s. “And I didn’t know it was killing me, but looking back, it’s like, wow, I was going to die.” Her voice cracks, just a little bit, and Steve makes an involuntary noise. Holds her hands just a little tighter. The warmth is already equalizing between them. “And, I don’t know. I don’t want you to get there. Or, if… you’re there already, I don’t want you getting any further.”

Sometimes it astounds Steve, just how much Robin gets things. This isn’t one of those times, though. It feels deeply right, and deeply sad.

“Alright,” Steve says.

“You won’t hide this from me? After this?”

A shake of the head. “No.” And it sounds so easy, promising this. Maybe it can be easy. Steve hopes it will be easy.

“I love you,” Robin says, and she pulls Steve into a hug. Steve melts into it. Robin gives very bony and kinda twitchy hugs, minute movements every few seconds, and Steve loves them. Robin, a while ago, maybe a couple months after Starcourt, had expressed anxiety about her hugs being ‘godawful uncomfortable,’ her words, but Steve had denied that fiercely. Her hugs were God’s gift to mankind, and if everyone else hated it, fine. More for Steve.

“I love you too,” Steve says into her chest.

They lapse into silence again. Steve thinks about asking for some water, but that would mean one or both of them leaving this room, and all possible configurations seem worse than the lack of water, right now. Steve presses closer into Robin.

“Another question.”

“Yeah?”

“So, you like Steve and Evie, and you’re a girl and a guy. Do you like he and she?”

There’s the dreaded question. Steve can’t hold back a groan. “I don’t know,” Steve says into her chest. “I’ve kinda, thought about it a bit, but… both of them feel weird, by themselves. I guess I like both, but only when they’re next to each other. I can’t really decide on one.”

Robin hums in consideration. “I mean, we’re making all this up as we go. If they don’t feel right by themselves, then why do they have to be by themselves?”

Steve thinks about it. “It feels like they’re supposed to cancel each other out,” Steve says, voicing a thought from earlier.

“They clearly don’t, at least in your case.” Robin presses her cheek to the top of Steve’s head, flattening the hair there. “Don’t think about how things should be. Think about what you want.”

What Steve wants. Okay.

He thinks about he. She thinks about she. And how, apart, they really only feel like half of himself, but together, they feel like they tell the whole story and show the whole picture.

Steve can’t help but think about those optical illusions Dustin had shown her a while back. The one with the two faces. If you concentrated, you see whichever one you wanted at will. And they seemed so opposed, yet so intertwined, and you couldn’t have one face without the other. Maybe he’s an optical illusion. It’s better than being evil.

“Okay. Yeah. Both are good.” Steve can feel Robin smile into her hair.

“Do you want me to use them both?”

Steve feels a flash of panic. “Um— augh. Not… not around other people, um, but—”

Robin squeezes him closer. “Oh, God, obviously!” she says, and Steve is so grateful that they’re on the same page, like, 90% of the time, and that this falls into that 90%. “I can sneak them into conversations between us. Pronouns don’t really pop up in conversations between two people, but maybe if we got a cat or a goldfish or a turtle I could talk to it about you in front of you. Or is that weird? Hm. It might be weird.”

Steve can’t help the smile dawning on her face. Maybe everything will be okay. “It’s kinda weird. But we should do it anyway.”

Robin laughs, and Steve still has his face buried in her chest, so he can feel it. “Yeah,” she says fondly. “I guess that hasn’t stopped us before.”

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #trans steve harrington #genderqueer steve harrington #bigender steve harrington #stranger things #little by little. everyone will believe in my vision of bigender steve #and okay this wasn't really 'edited' or whatever the kids are saying these days but thats fine i'm still proud of this :)#i just love them so much <3 steve and robin figuring things out...#do not know how to write them without having a sappy ending its kinda just inherent in the stobin of it all #anyway ENJOYYYY me and my girlfriend are gonna go out and have a date day :)#quincy.txt #my fics

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marmastry · 1 year

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Quarrel

#I had a Sunday dedicated to beating my old score of 116 in Big Run AND I DID!! I GOT 130!! IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF YALL!! I WAS LITERALLY OBSE #DRIVEN BY NOTHING BUT PURE GRIT (And also one cracked 5% homie to twinlance with). I'm just very happy I beat my old score lol.#Anyway that's wholly unrelated to this but I figure you should know and this is everyone's reward for reading this far hahahaaha #This is part 2 to 'Missing'. I hope you enjoyyyy <3 #moomers #hasahasa #mayamaya #splatoonOC #splatoon3 #fancomics

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gokartkid · 10 months

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smth smth maxiel the bear au (post hookup!)

The morning after they have sex, Max wakes up to the sun blazing on his face and car horns wailing outside the window. If he strains his ears, he can hear people shouting down on the street. The air is hot and crisp on his skin as he stretches, catlike in the warm patch of sunlight on the bed. His muscles feel languid and soft; well-fucked.

His hand splays out across the sheets beside him. The empty sheets. His stomach tightens.

He sits up, quick. The other side of the bed is cool, already devoid of any lingering warmth. It’s almost impressive how quickly his stomach drops from fluttering warmth to swirling nausea. The worst thing is how clearly he can see it in his brain: Daniel, creeping out of bed in the early hours of the morning; Daniel picking up his clothes off the floor and getting dressed as quietly as he can while Max lies prone in the bed; Daniel letting himself out the door with a soft click because he’d rather leave and be cold in just a shirt than lie in bed with Max—

It’s not the first time he’s had a hookup leave in the middle of the night. It’s just that, that isn’t what he’s really upset about. It’s just that after so many evenings stuck in a hot burning kitchen together, backs against the wall and feeling like they were moving completely in sync, them against the world that was packed into the front of their small Chicago diner— well. Max would be lying if he said his world didn’t revolve around Daniel a little, at this point.

Maybe it was a bad decision after all, staring at Daniel’s hands as he gestured into the cold dark air of the alleyway behind the kitchen, already tipsy from just a few drinks after their shift, burning orange tip of his cigarette lighting up his face, the acrid, warm smell of his breath as he leaned in close to Max to make a joke, one eye winking shut; Max leaning into his orbit, and in, and in, and in—

A clatter from the kitchen, then off pitch humming.

Max jumps, startled out of his thoughts; he’d been planning on lounging pitifully in bed for at least another hour.

It’s too early to have hope but it’s difficult to dampen the sputtering match in his chest, still so small.

He can’t find his underwear on the floor and has to settle for track-pants instead before peaking out of his bedroom door around the corner, hope beyond words.

Daniel, curly hair a mess on top of his head, has his back turned to Max. He’s all warm tanned skin, the wide expanse of his back and muscles shifting as he leans over a pan on the stove. He’s humming something, occasional incomprehensible words that descend into what can only be described as scatting.

He’s wearing boxers, loose and twice folded over, sitting low across his hips and— Max’s brain stutters here, looking at the distinct spatula pattern that his old college roommate had gotten him as a gag gift one holiday season.

He must make a sound then because Daniel is turning, bright smile and all.

“Maxy! Good morning. What are you, sleeping beauty? Makes sense you’d wake up now that I’ve made this whole spread, huh?”

The spread in question is a plate of toasted sourdough, yellow pools of butter already melting into the crevices, hash browns on the side with warm golden brown crusts, gooey insides threatening to escape and steam rising into the air from mugs of coffee. Max watches as Daniel expertly swoops his spatula one last time around the pan to release the mass of soft scrambled eggs, fatty and just the right amount of under-done.

“I—“ he stops, starts again; it’s difficult to find the words when he feels as if he’s experienced the full span of human emotions in the short time since he’s been awake, “wow. Big breakfast.”

“Yeah well,” Daniel sets down the pan and circles the counter to come closer; still almost naked, still only wearing Max’s boxers, “thought I’d do something nice, yeah? Spent enough time in this kitchen to know where all your stuff is.”

All the days they’d spent together testing menu item after menu item, things that were too salty, too sweet, plated expertly onto Max’s mismatching plates and cutlery, trying to clean as they went in Max’s — comparative to an industrial kitchen — tiny sink.

“It would make sense if you didn’t remember, old man,” Max’s mouth makes the joke easily, slipping into the age old pattern as Daniel gasps, putting a hand over his heart, big eyes remarkably sincere.

“Max! After I’ve just done this nice thing for you!”

“Sure, sure,” he puts his hand over Daniel’s and in a pique of bravery— certainly braver than he feels — he leans up and kisses him, light, just a brush of lips against lips. He tries not to blush but can already feel his ears heating up. It’s alright though, because Daniel looks equally struck dumb.

He turns away, quickly, back to the plate.

“Better eat before this gets cold,” does his voice sound higher? He can’t be sure. “Come on!”

#you would not believe how plotted out this au is in my head 😭😵‍💫#anyway. enjoyyyy bon appetit LMAO #maxiel #mv33 #dr3 #my fic #f1 rpf #hmmm #bear au

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waterfallofspace · 7 months

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A Game Of Chess

When D/azai starts a game with C/huuya, he wins it. But will round two turn out differently, or will the King claim his Pawn once more?

So the wonderful @onetrickponi requested something from b/sd with ~this post~ as the inspiration.

I decided to go with S/oukoku, so here's a little two-part game of chess, two different situations where this phrase may occur.

Characters: C/huuya, D/azai and A/kutagawa (briefly over the phone) Word Count, Total: 4.8k Part One, Check: 2.3k Part Two, Mate: 2.4k

(CW: Swearing, sexual themes, character with the kink. No technical smut action happens, but it's quite heavily implied!)

~~~ Check ~~~

Ask anyone in the Port Mafia, and they’re sure to agree; Chuuya is a force to be reckoned with. One that, most will add, shouldn’t be reckoned with. And yet, he’s neither the king of the Port Mafia chess army, nor the queen.

“Instead,” Dazai continues, taking pride in the pronounced groan from the couch next to him. Seems his talents have been wasted preparing mere witty retorts. A long drawn out monologue serves to coax an entirely new type of annoyance. “You’re more of a pawn. A mighty pawn! But, a pawn nonetheless.”

“Watch it, you may be able to stop gravity manipulation, but you aren’t immune to other forms of violence.” Chuuya growls, hat sliding forward as he springs to his feet. He corrects it with a single hand, the other glove waving in frantic, yet meaningless, patterns.

“Oh Chuuya, you have something planned? I knew you cared! See, I’ve been planning ways to bring you down a peg,” Dazai pauses to meet Chuuya’s rolling eyes with a wink, “for years now.”

“What a load of-”

“And yet, here I was thinking you didn’t care enough to do the same!” He pauses again, feigning hurt with a hand draped over his forehead in a gesture that can only be described as dramatic. A word often associated with the heart-of-gold, soul-of-grey, detective. “But it turns out I was wrong, Chuuya always car-”

“AHK’SHHaa! Christ.”

Chuuya cracks a grin behind his fist as the outburst nearly knocks Dazai off the counter he’d placed himself on. An onlooker would assume it was the ferocity of the sternutation, perhaps the volume. It wouldn’t be an unfounded guess. Chuuya’s not exactly one for subtlety, although he’d like to believe he can control them when needed.

They’d be wrong.

Being used to gunshots, like he is, the volume was practically nothing. Surprise could be another assumption, though it would once again be incorrect. While Dazai didn’t see it coming, he’s never been one to jump at unforeseen circumstances. It’s simply not his nature.

And besides-

“AESHH’ah!”

-despite seeing Chuuya’s nose twitch, his brows furrow, and hearing the gasp catch in his throat, Dazai’s whole body trembles once more in time with the sneeze.

“Oh dear, Chuuya will wake the neighbours at this rate!”

It’s a bluff, and they both know it. A well thought out maneuver, disguised as a simple taunt. Meant to control the situation, a strategic move, like a chess piece gliding across the board.

“AKSHH’iuh!” Chuuya straightens up, glove still pressed to his nose. There’s a beat of silence, Dazai’s annoyance monologue temporarily paused. He seems at a loss for words, breath coming a little quicker than a moment ago.

Unfortunately Chuuya doesn’t get to revel in it for long, the shift in his sinuses presenting an urgent distraction. “Pass the tissues, would ya?”

Without a word, Dazai drops from the counter. As his footsteps fade off into the kitchen, Chuuya allows himself a single heady sniffle. As expected, it’s deeply irritating, both in noise and reaction. The itch that’s been taking its time spreading through his face suddenly hones in on his nose, increasing with every shaky breath.

“AESHHiew! AKZSHH’aa! Oh Christ… hiH– AMFSHH!”

Using his gloves isn’t exactly what Chuuya had intended, but hell. It’s better than aiming at the floor. Much as he may enjoy Dazai’s reaction to that display, the other detectives don’t deserve such indecencies.

“EMSFHHh!” Not to mention, the improperness of the act is more Dazai’s particular brand of infuriating. “Speaking of the asshole, when is… AEMFSH’ah! mon dieu. When is that bastard gonna get ba-”

“Talking to yourself, one of the first signs of insanity, Chuuya.” Dazai calls, a smirk dancing across his face as Chuuya jumps.

“The first sign of insanity is- hH’AKZSH’aa!” He manages to duck to the side, wheeling back around with a glare. “Is the fact I’m wasting my breath talking to you.”

“Oh dear, was that supposed to be a comeback? It lacks a bit of the wit a good retort should possess.” Dazai mocks, a smile dripping of bitter humour crossing his cheeks. “Seems Chuuya’s tongue isn’t quite as fierce as his glare.” And with that, Dazai leans against the wall, a tissue box still in his hand.

In the time it had taken for him to walk to the supply closet and back, his entire demeanor had shifted. As simple as changing clothes, he’d replaced the off balance vulnerability with a controlled posture of dominance.

Still trapped behind his hand, Chuuya finds his knees starting to weaken. It was clear what direction this interaction would be taking. While it wasn’t something he’d planned, it was certainly welcome nonetheless.

“Well are you gonna hand them over or what?” Chuuya replies, a snarl creeping along his lip as his nose threatens to retaliate against the delay. Despite being pressed against the fabric lining his hand, it seems desperate for further relief.

“Perhaps.”

“Then hurry up, you bastard. I… hh– I hhhave to… hhAHh–”

Dazai lunges forward, the movement sudden enough to trigger a fight or flight response. It takes every ounce of Chuuya’s willpower not to lash out as Dazai, in one fluid motion, grabs onto his wrist and pulls it away from his face.

“Not yet,” Dazai hums, eyes alight. It seems the games have begun; with Chuuya at a deeply itchy disadvantage. Already down his queen by the second move.

Dazai's been careful to avoid Chuuya’s bare skin, despite his ability working quite easily through clothing. It’s a hint to the nature of the game they’re playing. Each move will be calculated, each touch laced with intention.

“aEHh–” Chuuya manages to starve it off with a sharp exhale, his body rapidly beginning to tremble as the power seeps from his veins into Dazai’s grip.

It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, some wouldn’t even notice. It’s not like the action of removing the gift has a sensation, it’s more… the lack of sensation as the power drains away. To someone like Chuuya, who almost constantly maintains a slight flow of their gift, it’s hard to miss.

“Not as vocal,” comes the next command, Dazai’s grip loosening enough for one finger to trail down Chuuya’s arm, reaching the bare skin between his sleeve and his glove. The touch is cold, a gasp nearly escaping Chuuya’s tightened lips.

“It’s nhehh– not gonna be easy,” Chuuya lets his eyes shut for just a second, savouring the sweet relief that the false depiction of privacy offers. The promise that when they open again, he’ll be free to release every itch.

Dazai breaks the spell in a single move, the relief quickly replaced with overwhelming irritation. Chuuya’s eyes fall open in time with his mouth as he finds Dazai’s chocolate gaze awaiting his arrival. Nose still pressed against his, the smirk Dazai’s wearing is felt, more than seen.

“My my, Chuuya. Your nose is so warm!” Dazai coos, leaning back to demonstrate by running a finger against his own nose, then back over to Chuuya’s. Biting his lip is the only way Chuuya keeps from moaning. Even Dazai touching his own nose seems to tickle.

“hiEHh– D-Dazai…”

“And,” Dazai continues, Chuuya’s breath catching in his throat. “It’s practically quivering. Chuuya must need to sneeze something awful. I wonder what could be causing this? Hmm, let’s see…”

Trailing off, Dazai lets his eyes scan the room. It’s for dramatic effect, he already knows. There’s no doubt he’s known since the moment Chuuya walked in. It’s unlikely he planned for it, considering the earlier reaction, but there’s no question he caught on fast.

The distraction gives Chuuya enough time to scrunch his nose, a desperate attempt to satiate the ever deepening urge. The action has quite the opposite effect however, a moan slipping past Chuuya’s tongue before he can catch it.

“What was that, Chuuya?” Dazai hums, the action blowing a soft wind against Chuuya’s nose. It nearly tips the scales, only a frantic clench of the jaw allows him to control the burning need. His nostrils flare greedily, aching for another touch, something to give them the ability to overpower his will.

“I’m… I’m gohhnna sneeze-” Chuuya manages to gasp out, his lips parting in a snarl, breath starting to come faster, chest beginning to tighten with his eyes–

“Did I say you could?”

And just like that, the reaction stalls. A tear slides down his cheek, Chuuya nearly whining as Dazai’s cold touch wipes it away, a finger brushing the bridge of his nose. It feels as if his entire face is lit up, the flush on the tips of his ears beginning to match his nose.

“I dohh… don’t think I… I caahhh– hEDT! I can’t…” More stutters fall out, each word only delaying the inevitable. The sneeze is coming, and despite his best efforts, Chuuya knows there’s no fighting it. Not anymore.

“No.”

And still, somehow, despite the overwhelming desire, the unavoidable trembling, the greedy flaring, Chuuya feels his teeth clench. That command was firm, undeniable, and direct. He is not allowed to sneeze.

Words die on his tongue, even the idea of parting his lips leaves him breathless. Once he allows a touch of air through, there will be more than words spilling out. Determined to maintain composure, he feels the world start to slip into a light fog.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Dazai hums, giving Chuuya’s wrist a light squeeze. With a poorly contained gasp, Chuuya begins to pant. “You didn’t even notice, did you?”

Chuuya answers in the form of a watery glare, still too itchy to risk words. Dazai’s fingers relax, dropping Chuuya’s wrist. Without a second thought, Chuuya raises it back to his nose, moaning at the relief the harsh touch offers.

“AESH’NGKT! Merde-”

His other hand quickly slips to his face, only managing to half-stifle the sudden burst. The allergic tears lining his eyes begin to pour over, his nose greedy for a full release. If anything, the stifle only served to make it worse.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission for that,” Dazai starts, fingers beginning to trace up Chuuya’s neck, wrapping around his choker. Chuuya’s teeth pierce into his lip, knees weakening once more. “Though, maybe I’ll allow it. Seems it didn’t do anything to relieve that miserable tickle. I’ll even allow one more!”

Without a second thought, Chuuya lets Dazai pull his head closer, aiming for a bandaged shoulder as the– “ANGKT!” brings him a moment of relief. From his position against Dazai’s chest, Chuuya lets a smirk flash across his features. Elevated pulse, body trembling in time with each gasp Chuuya takes.

“I’m being awfully generous here, don’t you think Chuuya?” Dazai purrs, eyes beginning to dance once more as he pushes Chuuya back against the wall, releasing his grasp. “I think you should thank me.”

From behind his wrist, Chuuya freezes. If he attempts to speak, he won’t be able to hold it back. The dam already broke, the stubborn power of sheer will is fending off the waves. Dazai should know that too… which means this is an indirect invitation to…

“hieHh–!”

…or a test. One that letting himself go would immediately fail. Studying Dazai’s expression, Chuuya attempts to navigate his response. The choice is quickly made for him, as Dazai leans forward with a wink. Shivers race down Chuuya’s spine as he feels the breath against his ear.

“You’ve been quite obedient. Feel free to indulge your own desires now.”

“AESHH! AK’SHHAA!” The double breaks free with a growl that leaves Dazai trembling almost as hard as Chuuya. Another follows on its heels, then a second, third, fourth, the fit continuing as Dazai’s lip begins to match Chuuya’s.

“ASHH’aa! Cahhn’t stahh… stop– hH’AEMFSH!”

A hint of concern passes through Dazai’s eyes as the fit doesn’t seem to let up. “Are you–”

“AESHHiew! A bid idtchASHH! Idtchy. ADSHH’iuh!”

“I can see that, or shall I say hear that,” Dazai replies, making a show of covering his ears with a teasing wince. “Might be the last thing I ever get to hear!”

“Is thad a… ahh– ADTCHh! AESHH’aa! Is thad a complimedt?” Chuuya taunts, pausing to grab a handful of the tissues he’d nearly forgotten about. With a harsh blow, a moan slips out after it. The action lets air flow through his nose once more. “AECHH!” Which of course only serves to agitate it further.

Dazai rolls his eyes with a smirk, hand finding his way to Chuuya’s thigh. “Only Chibi would think saying someone’s loud is a compliment.”

“Only you would mean it as one. ASHH’iuh! Fucking Christ.”

“Switching to English?” Dazai nearly growls, voice lowering with each desperate sneeze. “Is it already that intense?”

In lieu of a response, Chuuya guides Dazai’s hand up from his thigh, letting the cool fingers brush his warm nose. The touch is excruciating, his chest heaving as he attempts to hold back long enough to get out, “Feel fehh… for yo- hAHhh– for yoursehhhlf.”

Dazai takes the invitation, tracing each flaring nostril with his index finger, eyes beginning to gloss over nearly as much as Chuuya’s. His breath begins to fall in sync, both of them starting to pant. “Seems so,” Dazai manages to choke out, legs beginning to tremble once more.

“hH’ASHH! AESCSHH! yeASHH’iuh! YESHH’shaa!”

Unable to fight it any longer, Dazai leans forward and pulls Chuuya into a greedy kiss, his tongue betraying the depth of his hunger. Chuuya lets himself be swallowed into the embrace, hands finding their way up Dazai’s back to grip his jacket. Together they push back against the wall, intertwined in a beautiful tangle of limbs and tongues.

Chuuya pulls away first, only managing a sharp gasp before he ducks into Dazai’s shoulder for another harsh– “AETCSHH!” which Dazai blesses with a light moan, pulling Chuuya closer.

“I’m gonna kiss you again.”

With a laugh, Chuuya pulls back again, mischief lighting up his eyes. “Did I say you could?”

Dazai returns the gaze, hunger dripping from his narrowed eyes. “Sadistic, Chuuya.”

“Shut up and kiss me, bastard.”

~~~ Mate ~~~

Ask anyone in the Armed Detective Agency, and they’ll tell you that Dazai is one of their more valuable assets–

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Chuuya calls from his position resting against the doorway. “The only one who’d call you that is yourself, you smug bastard. The rest of ‘em have enough sense to see you for what you really are.”

Dazai sighs, letting the paperwork he’d been pretending to fill out for an hour lay abandoned on a desk. A desk that’s certainly not his. Along with a carefully forged note asking Atsushi to fill it out, on behalf of one Kunikida.

Turning back to the interruption, Dazai gestures vaguely at the empty office. “Then why would they leave me all alone to watch the business? They know I can handle such a task!” He trails off with another performative sigh, sprawling out over his desk. “It’s tiresome, being so crucial and trusted.”

In response, Chuuya merely huffs a growl, rolling his eyes for what feels like the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“Chuuya wouldn’t understand,” Dazai continues with a wink, earning the sixth eye roll. “He’s merely a pawn, while I am a king!”

“Isn’t the king practically useless?” Chuuya asks, raising an eyebrow incredulously. “The queen does all the work after all.”

“Ah, a pawn such as yourself would think like that, wouldn’t they?” Spinning in his chair, Dazai catches Chuuya’s eyes with that shit-eating grin that practically screams ‘I’m better than you so I’ll try to dumb this down’. It’s infuriating, and Chuuya finds himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes yet again.

“While the king may not be on the front lines, his influence is what guides the entire kingdom. Without him, the battle would rage with no cause or order, each piece fighting for themselves. A mere pawn cannot take out a knight with pure strength, he needs a strategy. That’s where the king comes in.”

“That’s the player, moron,” Chuuya retorts, a new confidence leaving his eyes shining. For once, the high-and-mighty attitude Dazai’s sporting might be all bluster. He mistook the king for the player, a foolish mistake.

For a minute, just a minute, there’s silence. No witty retort, no smug explanation, just a pause. One hanging thick with deeper meanings, and… something Chuuya would almost call sadness. The look Dazai gives him holds no sense of authority. There’s no superiority in his expression, just a haunting wash of melancholy behind his whiskey soaked eyes.

Chuuya opens his mouth, just to close it again. No words seem appropriate, not while that look remains on Dazai’s face. A look that suggests something deeper to his meaning that he desperately wished Chuuya would’ve understood.

The ringing that sounds out knocks Chuuya from his thoughts. His fist connects with the doorframe before he can catch a breath, blood pumping through his ears. “Fucking-!”

“Chuuya!” Dazai laughs, a cheshire smile smothering the expression that had just occupied that space. Or maybe it was never there at all… “What a foul tongue! And go easy on the offices, would ya? We don’t exactly have the unlimited budget of the Port Mafia. Kunikida will finally have that aneurysm if he finds a hole in the wall.”

Clutching his phone as it continues to demand attention, Chuuya aims a glare at no one in particular. Not giving Dazai the satisfaction of a direct reply, he snaps open the phone and turns his back to the room. “This is Chuuya.”

The voice starts rambling on about meetings, conferences, deadlines, and something to do with ‘assignment reports missing key details involving jinko’. Digging his fingers into his temple, Chuuya considers hanging up on the kid.

While there’s no denying his talent in battle, his mannerisms always seem to hit a nerve. A similar nerve to the one Dazai hits, or maybe closer to the sleepless nights where thoughts refuse to give up control.

A combination of everything he hates about himself and Dazai, wrapped up in one human being. Still, it’s hardly like he’s to blame for that. Not like you can hold it against the kid for learning from the role models he was given.

“Look, Akutagawa, I’m a bit busy at the momen–” Chuuya nearly growls as a noise sounds off behind him, an all too familiar one. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considers leaping from the window. The only thing stopping him is the prickling starting to invade his sinuses. Too late now, no point in suffering for nothing.

Spinning on his heel, Chuuya casts the darkest glare he can muster at the ‘all too innocent’ whistling detective still holding the weapon in his bandaged hands. Hard to believe a bottle so small can cause such huge fallout, and yet Chuuya can’t deny the powerful itch beginning to spread.

“I’m gonna hahh– have to call you back. No, I understand the meaning of urgent, do you understand the meaning of busy?” Flipping Dazai off as the snickering gets louder, Chuuya pulls the phone away from his face. “hH’ANGZT!”

“What’s the matter, Chuuya? You seem a bit irritated?” Dazai calls, increasing his volume to ensure his voice carries through the phone. “Is it talking to Akutagawa? That always sets me in a foul mood.”

The noise from the phone seems almost hurt, coated in a thin veil of disgust. Chuuya brings a glove to his nose, pinching it shut long enough to get out, “You talk to him then.” Thrusting the phone in Dazai’s general direction, he leans into his opposite shoulder to muffle another “AMFSHH’uh!”

“Speak to Akutagawa? Yeah, I’ll pass.” Dazai taunts, aiming his speech at the phone, clearly putting on a performance. “That would just ruin my day, and it’s been going pretty well up till now. I spend my days actively hoping I won’t run into that guy.”

“You-” Akutagawa starts, before the lines goes silent as Chuuya’s body jerks with another “AHGNTiew! AKNGDT’hah! Merde.”

“Are you alright?” Akutagawa offers, the genuine nature of the question getting overpowered by joyous laughter bubbling up from Dazai. Chuuya barely has time to glare before he’s aiming for his shoulder again as another harsh sneeze nearly doubles him over.

“Oh Chuuya here’s just fine, I think he’s just allergic to your presence! Even through the phone, you seem to leave him in… quite a state.” Dazai wipes a tear from his eye as Akutagawa lets a few faint curses slip through the phone. “Maybe you should consider hanging up, let the man have a bit of time to breathe.”

Finally able to get a word in, Chuuya brings the phone back to his ear with a cautious fist pressed against his nose, fingers holding it shut. “I’b fide. Just repord to Bori idstead. I’b a bid… ah’GNt!” He breaks off into a cough, the tight stifle leaving his head pounding. “A bid preoccupied.”

After a few muffled objections, a comment Dazai vaguely catches about ‘why are you even there’, and a final request for backup on the next mission he’s being sent on, Akutagawa hangs up.

Dazai offers an innocent smile as Chuuya turns back to him, a red hue beginning to flitter over his skin, fists balled at his sides. “What the hell was that, you bastard! Are you seriously trying to– AESHH! trying to get a fucking– YEASHH’iuh! fucking pounding?”

“Why Chuuya,” Dazai coos. “What a generous offer! I’d simply adore it if you pounded me all–”

“Shut the fuck up, you know that’s not what I meant.” Chuuya growls, pawing at his nose as another sneeze doubles him over. “Mon dieu. Did you really hhhah– have to spray that in here? If I don’t… ihihh– if I don’t leave I’m gonna be itchy for hours. ARSHH’iuh!”

“Oh my- I really didn’t think that through, did I? How reckless of me,” Dazai hums, sliding up from his chair. Chuuya feels himself step backwards before he can process the change, involuntarily retreating from the source of the tickle.

Sliding a hand in front of his face, Chuuya glares over the makeshift mask. “You’re still covered in the stuff. Keep your distance mackerel or I swear I’ll breAKSHH’aa!”

“Sorry,” Dazai replies, taking another step closer. “I didn’t quite catch that. Or you’ll what?”

“I’m serious, you bastard. I’m… hASHH! EMFFSHH! AHMFSH’aa! Fucking Christ.” Chuuya coughs out, his nose twitching dangerously with each step Dazai advances. As if just the knowledge of a closer proximity to his allergen is making the reaction worse.

“You’re having sex with the lord?!” Dazai gaps, a playfully smug expression resting across his eyes. “I mean, I know I’m good in bed, but to call me your saviour.”

Not bothering to dignify that with a response, Chuuya takes another step back, missing his shoulder completely when the next “yeASHH’iuh!” catches him off guard. Dazai seems to tremble a little at this display, crossing the distance between them in a single stride.

Chuuya takes a step forward, taking note of the way Dazai allows the intrusion, sinking back to allow Chuuya space to stand. His posture is open, inviting, nothing like the commanding stance of last time. This is a new game, and he’s inviting Chuuya to take the lead.

“Well fuck,” Chuuya growls, lowering his glove just long enough to let the sickly floral scent intrude past his defenses. He nearly whimpers as the itch increases tenfold, each breath bringing a new round of desperate hitching. “IhheHh– I’m gonna sneeze-”

“Did I say you could?” Dazai purrs, the sound catching in his throat as Chuuya spins him around, knocking him into the wall hard enough to expel his breath.

“I don’t remehhmber asking.” Chuuya smirks as Dazai’s eyes flash, his tongue poking through his teeth in a hiss of pleasure. Leaning closer to his shoulder, Chuuya allows his breath to catch once, twice–

“AESHH’ou!”

The action jerks his body closer to Dazai’s, a moan slipping from the detective's lips. Barely a moment to catch his breath, Chuuya lets the second, third, and fourth slip out in rapid succession, each aimed a little closer to Dazai’s neck.

By the fifth Dazai’s panting, shivers running through him as Chuuya’s nose rests against the bare skin. Gathering his composure long enough, he brings Chuuya’s hips towards his own. Dazai leans his head back, eyes fluttering shut in time with Chuuya’s.

“I’m not… not done…” Chuuya stutters out, a single tear running its way down his cheek. The slow trickle brushes against the side of his nose, leaving him breathless, only enough time to inhale for the– “hEYESHH! EASHHMF! MMFFSHH’aa!”

“You know,” Dazai whispers, voice stolen as Chuuya begins to rub his nose across the sensitive skin below his ear. “You don’t have a lot of warning for your…”

Chuuya smirks, pulling Dazai down to his level, breath caressing Dazai’s ear. “For my what, bastard? Say it.”

Dazai moans in response, a mixture of pleasure and submission as Chuuya lets his teeth mark Dazai’s skin for his own. Gentle enough not to leave any marks that will last too long, but not so gentle that he’s not reminded who’s winning this game.

“Your sneezes,” Dazai manages to pant, the aforementioned action drawing his breath once more.

“AESHH’aa! Fuck. Yeah, I guess they don't,” Chuuya replies, releasing Dazai’s shirt quick enough to slam him into the wall with a grunt. “I guess I don’t pay as much attention as some people.”

There’s a faint whimper in response, Chuuya taking the cue to let his hand wander down Dazai’s chest, resting right above his thigh. “However, I can definitely still feel it. There’s a near constahh… constant buzz. It’s just that I’m never sure when it’s gonna turn into a full sneeASHHH’iuh! Fucking hell.”

As his body jerks, Chuuya lets his hand slip lower, Dazai responding in kind with a moan. Pausing, Chuuya waits for the next move. It comes sooner than expected, Dazai barely able to contain himself as his hand grips Chuuya’s back, head tilting down to expose the hunger in his eyes.

At this, Chuuya pulls back, smirking at the whimper breaking their contact coaxes from the other. “Being this close to you is making the itch so much worse,” He muses, rubbing a finger under his nose. An invitation. “I think I’m gonna sneeze again–”

Not one to turn down the chance for a script flip, Dazai grabs his wrist, pulling it down to his waist. “I think you’ve had more than enough of those.”

With a barely concealed smirk, Chuuya lets his head tilt back, meeting Dazai’s eyes. “And if I caASHH’iuh! Can’t stop?”

“Well then,” Dazai taunts, letting his fingers slide up under Chuuya’s nose. “I guess I’ll just have to help you.”

“EHNGT!” Chuuya gasps in the aftermath of the forced stifle, his breath catching once more as Dazai’s fingers do nothing but irritate his nose further.

“I do believe I said that was enough, didn’t I?” Dazai hums, fingers rubbing back and forth over Chuuya’s rapidly twitching nose. The tortured appendage wriggles, Chuuya’s eyes fluttering shut as his whole body trembles.

“AHDTSHH’aa! Fuck, it won’t stahh… AENGT’shiew! Won’t stop if you keep… keeASPTCHH! Keep doing that.” Chuuya growls, leaning forward to rub his nose against Dazai’s shoulder again. He’s stopped by a single movement, Dazai maneuvering himself out of the way with a flourish. Too distracted to attempt to follow, Chuuya raises a fist back to his nose as the tickle hits its peak once more.

“A Port Mafia executive can’t even stop his own nose?” The taunt stops him in his tracks, Chuuya’s eyes snapping open to glare at Dazai as he finishes the statement. “The standards have really dropped it seems.”

“Or maybe,” Chuuya begins in a near purr, reveling in the slight crack that spreads through Dazai’s smirk at the abrupt tone change. “I never intended to stop it at all.”

It’s not easy to catch Dazai off guard, especially when he’s spent nearly 8 years studying your every move. Not easy, but not impossible. As Chuuya releases the grasp on his nose, pressing Dazai back against the wall, he takes pride in the light gasp that escapes the bastard.

“ASHHH’ou! yeASHh’iuh! hehH– ASHH’iuh!”

Mask fully shattered, Dazai can do nothing but moan as each sneeze jerks their bodies closer together. Chuuya drops all decorum as he rubs his nose against Dazai’s neck again. He lets a few groans slip from his tongue, flaring his nostrils as the skin contact leaves Dazai quivering.

Dazai’s response is a simple phrase, barely audible as his voice catches in his throat.

“Chuuya was never a mere pawn; a checkmate well earned.”

#waterfallwrites #i'm gonna be honest i wrote both of these in one session each and then edited for typos/anything obivous #but this was stream of consciousness style writing so i hope to GOD its enjoyable hahaha #also soukookoo for cocopuffs is just gonna live in my head now #anyways i hope you enjoyyyy~ and that i did justice to the prompt!#i just couldnt get the idea of someone fighting against it out of my head too-#and honestly i feel like both of these are what s/oukoku is #a mixture of teasing from one side then teasing back from the other #d/azai more often in control yes- but c/huuya can hold his own more than people give him credit for #ANYWAYS character study mode turned off ahaha #throwin this out there hoping it's not awful <3 #s/oukoku #d/azai #c/huuya

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echo-the-ghost · 4 months

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lost track of time oUGH whoops. I gotta go ahead and post this though even though there's technically a second part that's not done yet,,,

Some chillin Benjamins for @ceridvven for Lost Secret Santa!! Happy holidays and birthday and I hope you enjoy these :] apologies again for being late!

#spoiler alert! I drew rousseau too I just didn't Finish that art yet. sad #wORKING ON IT THOUGH I PROMISE #because I was super excited when I got you and your faves being listed as rousseau and ben because SAME #and there is NOT enough rousseau fanart so I was excited to create something of her. and then what did I do? I only finished the ben art 💀#this felt like cheating. felt like I was drawing art for myself ahfgkjhksjd #i'm very silly. but anyway #enough rambling. posts this and runs away #I hope you enjoyyyy <3 #echo's art #my art #lost #lostsecretsanta2023

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vielle-art · 2 months

Text

Sterling, for Taamirau

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huffle-dork · 6 months

Text

Etwas Peilen (Swapboys AU)

Continuation of Welcome to the Show exploring Alt and Henny’s relationship!

Masterpost | More Swapboys

Before the new friends parted ways, the good doctor Jackson rounded them all up to get their scratches and wounds tended to. Bro and Jackie were already helped, with Bro giving a detailed report to the police and Jackie icing his aching nose.

Dr. J had Alt up on the bar stools with him, lightly dabbing antiseptic on the cuts on his cheek. Alt hissed and was trying not to glitch away as Jameson held him still.

Henrik watched anxiously, wringing his fingers back and forth. He… can’t believe Magnificent just… let them go. Guess they proved themselves? Maybe… but- Henrik was scared the puppetmaster was only biding his time. And until now… he had no one who he could confide in.

Until… Alt.

As the good doctor started to gather his supplies and finished up with Alt, popping a clean white bandage on his cheek- Henrik hesitated before slowly approaching. The normally charismatic actor felt nerves in his throat but he tapped the glitch on the shoulder.

Alt looked back and raised an eyebrow at him, “Schneep? Uh… wassup?”

Henrik tapped his legs as he tried to find his voice, “T-Today was… long day. But- we… we have found ourselves in a uh… similar position, yes? And so I… I was wanting to invite you to make the drinkings with me?”

Alt’s eyebrows furrow in slight concern, “Are you suggesting alcohol to wash our troubles away? Cuz I don’t think the doc would approve of that-“ He glanced back towards Jameson as he went to join the others.

The gentleman laughs and shakes his head, “No no! Not in that way… I- just think it would be nice to… get to know each other better? Since well… you know.” Henrik messes with the back of his head anxiously, trying to give an award winning smile to Alt.

The younger man stared at Henrik with an unreadable expression for a couple beats. Then, he sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets, going to pull his mask up out of habit but stopping himself to look back at the actor.

“…I should warn you I’m not an open person so… I dunno how much getting to know each other they’ll be… but, sure. Tomorrow night… meet me at Insomnia.”

Henrik tilts his head slightly, “Not tonight?”

Alt laughs, though, it looks kinda pained. “Nah I… I got a gig tonight.” He laughs some more and pushes his bangs back then tugs on them, “god… I have a gig… I… I should get ready for that…”

Henrik frowns in sympathy and hesitates before putting a hand on Alt’s shoulder. “Please… do not push yourself too hard my friend… and you… you are injured…”

Alt blinks in surprise at the gesture and then glitches back to his feet, looking at the actor warily. Henrik blinks and holds up a hand and Alt attempts to give a forced smile. “I-I would cancel but… I need money for drinks now.”

Henrik steps back and wildly waves his hands, half signing out of habit. “No no! You will not pay! It will be on me!”

The glitch seems surprised by this too. But, now he smiles more genuinely. “Well… all the more motivation then, huh?”

He lightly hits Henrik on the shoulder as he starts to walk away, turning so the gentleman can still read his lips. “…see you tomorrow then, Schneep. You know how to reach me.”

He then pauses and fully turns back towards Henrik, something dawning on his face. “Wait… you Do know how to text right? U-Use a phone?”

Henrik laughs and nods, “Ja I know the telefon! I’m not as fresh from the past as you think, my friend. I have learned very much!”

“Oh… okay- good then…” Alt nods then sends a two finger salute Henrik’s way, glitching away into that night. “See ya.”

Turns out Henrik did know how to text but… not… well-

Around 7 pm the next day Alt’s phone buzzed with:

Schneep

🍺🙏☑️❓❓❓

Alt

…Yeah man- how’s 9 sound?

Schneep

😁🥰❗️❗️❗️

Alt

U kno u don’t have to use only emojis to text right?

Schneep

👍

Welp- guess that answered that. (Asking Jackie about it- apparently after Dr. J helped Henrik get his phone, the teal gentleman accidently got stuck in the emoji menu for a couple days and now is like- addicted to them. Alt wasnt sure if that was better or worse than old man texting-)

A little after 9, Alt glitched in front of the small pub downtown called Insomnia. He liked it here- good place for a drink after some of his shows.

He walks in, nodding towards the bartender that recognized his mask. Then, it was surprisingly easy to find Schneep- cuz he barreled right towards Alt with his arms open.

“Hallo, Alt!! My friend!!” He shouted.

Alt quickly stumbled back, his shoulders buzzing as he tried to keep out of Henrik’s grip. He hurried to take off his mask and hold up his hands. “Uh- hi Schneep- sorry just- not good with… contact-”

Henrik tilted his head in confusion but then got the memo and nodded, a bright smile back on his face. “Oh yes! Not to worry- I will save huggings for later!”

“Y…yeah- sure-” Alt muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck. Damn- this guy was too sweet. It was kinda intimidating…

A furry head peaked out from Henrik’s leg and Alt recognized Schneep’s dog, Sahne. He felt himself bristle a bit like an offended cat. But, she just blinked at him, her tail slightly wagging. She had her vest on- guess she was working. So, Alt tried his best to ignore her.

Henrik led them towards a quieter part of the bar where he had already set himself up with a small book. Though, once Alt got closer he recognized it as something more than just a paperback novel- it was a small moleskin sketchbook. Henrik plopped into the seat and Alt hesitated before sitting down and gesturing towards the book.

“You… draw?”

The gentleman’s eyes sparkled as he eagerly nodded. “Oh yes! I quite like making art in my spare time! Normally, I like to paint… but when I wait for friends I like to draw portraits!”

He shows Alt his sketches- quick gestures of other patrons- mostly anyone with a very striking appearance. Henrik smiles as he looks at them. “I think… learning people is helping me to understand more and more about how people work now. Sometimes- it helps it feel not too different.” He pats Sahne’s head as she sits down next to him. She licks his fingers then settles down to rest under his barstool.

Alt listens and nods to his words. He then flushes and fumbles for his backpack. They were trying to get to know each other and… well- this was something most people don’t know about him. But, artists liked showing off to other artists. It couldn’t hurt… He pulls out a thin tablet and then turns on the screen, flipping to show it to Henrik. On the screen are designs he’s done for his illusions and shows- and concepts of graffiti tags, most featuring a green eyeball with red x’s and a stitched smiley face over its iris. Alt’s face turns very red as he stammers out, “I uh… I draw too. And, um… i also like- painting but… not in the way you do.”

The German actor looks beyond pleased, sparkles practically coming off his body as he grabs Alt’s hands and holds them close. Alt yelps and pulls himself away and Henrik apologizes quickly, “Oh yes sorry! But Alt! You are good! Such fun colors!! I wondered if it was bright paint on your clothes! Someday you must show me more of your work!”

The glitch turns even more red and hides a bit in his hoodie, “Um… yeah- if I can… find one that’s uh- in a good spot… I can show you.”

Alt had been trying to find more free spaces lately but- doesn’t mean he doesn’t still tag where he’s not supposed to. Not that anyone could catch him- he had quite the streak for heaven spots around the area. Couldn’t take Henrik to see those though- well, at least up close.

Alt flagged down the bartender and ordered some Irish whiskey, watching as Henrik got what looked like his 3rd pint of beer. He smirked and sipped at the drink, taking a second to appreciate it before he sighs and looks back at Henrik.

“Alright, you had something on your mind, right? Or were you serious about getting to ‘know me’?” Alt added the air quotes to make sure his sarcasm wasn’t lost on Schneep.

Henrik blinked and then played with the pages of his sketchbook. “Oh ah… I do- want to get to know you… I think you seem- well… very rough around edges- but… sympathetic too. I think I would very much like to be friends.” He tried to smile at Alt. But, then he sighs and takes a sip of his drink before continuing.

“But- if you want to skip pleasantries then- we can talk about the elephant in the air-”

“...do you mean ‘elephant in the room’?”

Henrik flushed and then laughed, “Oh is that how that is called? But… ja- let’s talk about this elephant.”

He then gets quiet and looks down, tracing the lines in the table.

“...Magnificent-” He eventually whispers, suppressing a shudder. “I… I could not help but notice… that he treated you and me… very different from each other.”

He looks to meet Alt’s eyes now, “I do not know how it works for you… maybe it is different… but when I am ah- puppet… I see it all. I remember. Not right away but… it comes to me in my dreams…” He grips one of his hands into a fist and closes his eyes as he takes a shaky breath. Sahne seems to sense his distress and reaches up to rest her head on his leg. He continues, “I cannot control what my body does. I cannot form my own thoughts- but I still… see it. I am forced to take in what awful things I am made to do…”

Henrik hesitates again before meeting Alt’s gaze. “in the warehouse, when he gave you his power… did you mean it? That you wanted all that or… was that his ah- thinking forced in you?”

Alt frowns. Wow- that was… immediately very deep. He takes a long sip of his whiskey before he responds, but his voice is quiet. He almost forgets he needs to turn enough for Henrik to read his lips.

“I… I was definitely influenced but… I guess. I do.. kinda want that?” He grips at his head slightly, “It’s… complicated… and goes wayyy into my backstory that I’m not sure you’re at a level to unlock yet.”

Henrik looks confused.

Alt shakes his head.

“Sorry video game joke uh- im not sure we’re… close enough yet… to explain why… but-”

“Then, can I share some of me?”

The glitch blinks at the actor. “Huh?”

“If you know me better then- we would be closer. And you can explain better, ja?” Henrik smiles.

Alt looks confused by this but eventually laughs and knocks back some more of his drink. “Alright, shoot.”

Henrik hums and looks up, “Oh… where to begin…?”

“Oh!” He grins at Alt, “I know is hard to believe because of my accent but- did you know I am not full German? Actually, I am a full British citizen!”

Alt’s eyebrows shot up, “...that is hard to believe.”

The gentleman laughs lightly, “I know my accent is everywhere- but I spent many of my early years only speaking German- and sometimes French!” He gets a dreamy look on his face, “My father was a British doctor- he learned in France where he met my mother. She was full German but was trying to study with some artists there. They met… fell in love and then moved to London and had their 5 kids.”

“5 kids?!”

“Yes! I was the baby!” Henrik added with glee. “I had 4 older siblings- two brothers, Peter and Fritz… and my sisters, Gabi and Ilse.” He smiles sadly for a second and pauses to take another drink before sharing more.

“Father used to say when he grew up he hated German because he was expected to learn it. But then, he met my mother and it was suddenly the most beautiful language to him. We loved speaking it- even while in England. I wouldn’t even see Germany until I was grown.”

He then frowns and leans more on the table, absent-mindedly petting Sahne’s fur back. “... that changed with the war. The great war… Then, our accents and our language was suddenly not to be spoken. People would get angry with us for sounding too German. We made sure to hide our German sounding names… Father was on the lines, as were my brothers.

So… they were… somewhat safe when the Zeppelins came. Safer than we were…”

Alt’s heart and stomach dropped.

“No one was prepared… we were out shopping and… and-” Henrk clenched his glass tight with both hands, his fingers shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a stuttering breath. Sahne whined and leaned more on his leg. Alt didn’t know what to say-

“... Mama, Ilse and Gabi didn’t have to suffer. But, I never saw them again-”

“...Schneep-” Alt tried to interrupt. But, Henrik was lost in his re-telling.

“That’s how my deafness started, I was… 11, I think? Peter found me, he was working in a hospital nearby. He took care of me. Some kind soldiers taught me sign while I recovered- then... Then father was-”

“Schneep!” Alt exclaimed and gripped onto Henrik’s shoulder. The gentleman looked up with slightly misty eyes. Alt was quick to pull away but he held up his hands. “Dude… you… you more than earned your level- I… I can answer your question now… if you want.”

Henrik blinks and then laughs, looking a bit embarrassed as he rubbed at his eyes. “O-oh ja… I forgot that was the point… we are not here to hear such sad story!” He tried to smile it off but Alt could tell it was forced.

Alt swallowed and then knocked down the rest of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat. He quickly ordered another one, shaking himself out. “Need a bit more liquid courage for this…” He muttered.

Once the new drink is gotten, Alt holds it in his hands for a second before sighing and turning enough for Henrik to understand but not enough to look in his eyes. Pixels vibrate around his head and shoulders in a way that’s hard to see in the dim light of the pub.

“… I dunno if you met anyone like me in your time. And not just.. cuz of the glitches and magic but… I was… born… wrong.” He clenched his teeth slightly and tried to ignore the feeling that was screaming at him- telling him that every eye was on him. “…And I grew up… constantly thinking about it… how I wanted to be something… better. Stronger… because I didn’t feel like I was… as I am.”

He traces the rim of his cup in thought. Henrik watched him very patiently. Alt felt like that was more than he deserved.

“I know Mag was spitting fucking bullshit- but… some part of me… wants to believe him. And I’m not sure if that’s his mind tricks or… the part of me that wants to be… something more. I.. I want to be stronger… but I don’t know how to get there… and for just a little bit… I did believe him. That he could… make me stronger. And… things would get… easier.”

He leans his head on the table, starting to feel the alcohol in his cheeks. Schneep leans closer to make sure he can still understand. Alt angles his head a bit better as he mumbles in defeat.

“I’m sorry… I know you want to find some good in me but… my life has royally sucked. And… sometimes what Mag purrs out sounds… argh!”

He suddenly grips at his head, a headache blooming alongside his conflicted mind. Purple seems to spark weakly in his eyes.

“I dunno! I’m confused! I… I can still hear his stupid smug voice in my head…! I don’t know what I want…! I just- I just… I’m so fucking tired…! Of all of this-! I’m tired of being hungry and- and- powerless and a-scared… I don’t want to feel so lost anymore…!”

He starts to cry but hides his face and he hiccups “I want all of this to stop…!”

Henrik almost misses the last part but- his eyebrows crinkle with sympathy. Alt starts to come back to himself and then shoots up, looking at Henrik with wide eyes and red ears.

“Fuck I- I didn’t… I didn’t want to-“

The gentleman hesitates, going to reach out like he wants to touch Alt’s hand, but then stops to just loop his pinky around Alt’s own. Alt almost pulls away but- that’s… that’s not so bad.

“I understand,” He says softly, “He whispers siren songs- into your head. But… he will only tell you things you want to hear. He does not care… he only wants control. His promises are… empty.”

He sighs and looks down, shrugging. “That is how he got me. He used my confusion and promised to help me… he did not. He is nothing but ein lügnerischer Bastard.”

Alt looks away but- he’s afraid to tell Henrik how little he cared. Before, he met the others. Before he even thought he could become friends with them… with anyone. He didn’t care who he hurt- if he got hurt. Because- he’d finally be somewhere better…. Someone better. ….right?

Henrik lets go of Alt’s pinky and then waves a hand, giving a nervous smile.

“This is getting too of the serious! We should… talk about other things!”

Alt looked down at the table and sighs. “ I… I think… I need to go home…”

“No!” Henrik suddenly yells, startling the glitch and Sahne, who bumped her head on his leg. The actor then pleads to Alt. “We do not need to talk anymore if that is what you want! We can just… do the hangings out! We could… draw together and drink! No more serious talk!”

This gives Alt pause. Actually… that sounded like it could be fun. The pickpocket slowly smiled, bringing back his tablet. “You know what Schneep… I’ll bite. But it’s on your wallet-“

Schneep beamed brightly.

The two spent a while just drawing together. Alt tried to copy Henrik’s idea of drawing others around him. But- he wasn’t nearly as good as Schneep. So, he went back to what he knew- he even tried making bubble tags of the others' names. Just for fun. It was nice to just- doodle for a change.

He glanced at Schneep who had paused in his drawing to stare at someone across the way. He had a somewhat lovestruck look on his face.

Alt tried to follow his gaze- and saw what looked like a man- but honestly their gender was pretty ambiguous. They had tan copper skin and wavy brown hair. They were dressed in shiny silks with celestial patterns on them- even Alt had to admit they were very pretty. Maybe they were a model.

Henrik seemed to think so too- cuz as Alt looked at Henrik’s sketchbook- the whole page was filled with studies of that one person.

The glitch smirked and then bumped Henrik enough to get his attention. “Like something you see?”

“Hm? Oh! Ja… very much-“ Henrik sighed as he looked back. “He is… so pretty- I cannot stop looking…”

Alt rolled his eyes and waved a hand in front of his face. “Careful- you don’t want to creep them out-“

Then Alt frowns, realizing something.

“Wait… Schneep- are you… gay?” Alt makes a face and thinks, “wasn’t that like- a sin back then or something?”

Henrik’s face turns bright red with embarrassment and alarm. He holds his cheeks and ducks down, whispering, “ah yes right I- I cannot think such things!”

Alt wasn’t expecting such a response- so he hurries to correct him “no no it’s okay! it’s… not like it was anymore. It’s okay now- no laws against it!” Alt hurried to look around then gestures vaguely at a cluster of gay couples on another side of the pub. “Like see there’s a couple guys over there too- you’re fine…”

The actor seems to calm slightly at this and nods. Alt hesitates before adding, “I just- didn’t expect someone from your time to even be into that…”

Henrik laughs “Well it was- against the law. Very strictly for a longtime… but it does not mean the thoughts are not there.” He looks back to study the pretty person again as he swirls his drink in his glass. “Though… I think I like just- pretty people in general. I do not care what sex they are, you know?”

“Well- if it helps, I think they’re non-binary- from what I can tell at least.” Alt shrugs.

“Ah yes… that is- neither girl nor boy… yes?”

“It gets… complicated but- yeah basically.” Alt answers. He makes a face and takes a long sip of his drink. “Gender is weird.”

He then starts to think about this too. Maybe he was having too much to drink by now but- he finds himself muttering. “I get it… the pretty people thing. I- think I’m the same…? Though… I dunno- I don’t… crush on anyone. But I think if I knew someone for long enough… maybe-” Alt sighs dramatically and falls back against the table, squishing his cheek against it. “feelings are weird too…”

Henrik smiles and shakes his head with a laugh, “They are indeed…”

“Fucking hate them-“ the glitch muttered. Henrik shakes his head with a quiet giggle.

“You know- I had many chances to visit Berlin once I started acting. And it was such a sight…! It was… more okay there- to be queer. Even here in Brighton, it was becoming better and better! It made me feel… so happy. Like I could be understood- eventually.”

He looks to Alt and smiles, “Even when I was younger… I think I heard of people like you, Alt.” Alt’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

He grips his glass and looks down at the table. “However…It all started to change… right before I- I was brought…“ He pressed his lips together and suppressed a shudder.

Alt’s face creases in sympathy. He knocks back the rest of his drink then adds quietly. “…you dodged something really awful, Schneep…”

“I know…” Henrik’s voice cracks. “…I am… grateful in some ways… that I did not have to suffer another war… but…” He bites his lip to keep from crying.

Alt can tell there’s a lot left unsaid in the silence but he can read it well enough. No need to draw out this pain for the poor guy. Alt’s been pretty sensitive to touch tonight but- he leans his shoulder against Hen and flags down the bartender for another round. “…it’s okay, Schneep. I get it… let’s talk about something else, alright?”

Henrik quietly nods.

There’s quiet for a second before Alt asks, “uh… I don’t know- a lot of sign yet… wanna try to teach me? Something simple though.”

Schneep’s face instantly lights up with excitement and nods. “Oh yes!! I have the perfect thing!!”

Turns out- in sign, you can either finger spell a name or whoever’s signing can make up a sign that’s faster for someone they know. So, Henrik made quick work of teaching Alt the signs he used for their little group.

Bro Fantastic was the letter B then the sign for hero. Jackie was J then the sign for tired. Dr. J was easy- it was two J’s then the sign for doctor, naturally. And Sahne was cream, dog. Because Sahne in German meant Cream. Not the most creative name but- Alt had to admit it suited her.

Eventually Henrik starts to sign something that starts with A- then he makes a jagged motion in the air. Alt tilts his head.

“What’s that one?”

“It’s you! A- then lightning! Alt!” Henrik adds cheerily.

Alt feels his face heat up slightly. He then grins and laughs, “heh- awesome. Got any others?”

Henrik thinks- and Alt can see his cheeks getting flushed and warm like he feels on his own. So everything was a bit harder to slug through- but it was definitely more fun.

Finally, Henrik laughs and then starts a sign that looks like he’s drawing whiskers on his face. Then he taps his hand on his forehead, holding it straight up and touching the thumb to his skin.

Alt narrows his eyes. “Mmmm what’s that mean-“

Henrik grins real wide as he shows again, this time explaining. “Cat, bitch!”

The glitch’s eyes widen and then he barks out a laughs nearly spilling his drink. “Magnificent!”

“Yes! You got it!”

They both erupt into drunken laughter and giggles, falling over on each other.

The night wears on for a bit longer before the two admit they’ve had enough to drink. Alt feels it a bit more than his German counterpart and ends up stumbling into him as he attempts to stand up, nearly running into Sahne.

“Oops… s’rry pubby-“ Alt mumbles. Sahne wags her tail vigorously in response.

Henrik laughs then asks, “Can I help you outside, or?”

Alt grumbles and waves his hand. “Yeh ye- do wh’ev’r ya want…” He then pushes his face somewhat against Henrik’s side and the taller man quietly giggles at the sight.

Henrik leads the two outside and then tries to flag down a cab. He helps hold Alt up with one arm, while Sahne guards his other side, alerting him to any sounds he needs to watch out for.

He feels Alt shift and looks down to see the tired glitch try to find his eyes.

“…hen?” Alt slurs out.

It takes a second for Henrik to process that but his eyebrows shoot up. Alt hasn’t attempted to use his first name yet- it still wasn’t it fully, but it was close enough to make Henrik’s chest feel light.

The glitch looks away at first but then looks back to mumble out, “…it was nice. To not drink… alone.”

Henrik smiles and nods, “…I thought so too! It was very funny! …Perhaps we can… do it again sometime?”

Alt can’t help but feel himself smile. “…yeah… I think I’d like that…”

#ALT AND HENNY ARE SO IMPORTANT TO MEEEE #I love writing Henny’s speech too he’s so fun #I did so much research yesterday too- trying to really solidify hen’s past #and I didn’t even get to most of it!!! DX #but now I know HGHBN #swapboys #Hufflewriting #Henny von schneeplestein #silent film Schneep #alt anti #ww1 mentions #nothing too big but Schneep is from the 1900s- about 1933 #he just missed the really bad stuff-#anyways I’ve loved thinking about Alt and Henny being drinking buddies for forever!!#and it makes sense theyd bond so well cuz of Mag :)#if anyone wants the very complicated past I’m giving the boys like their families and stuff please ask HFGGHB #hopefully I can build more of this up soon-#but next I either wanna work on the next villain arc part or Henny first coming to the present-#idk yet!#anyways enjoyyyy #also I had to add that both Henrik and alt can do art ^^#they’re my characters I need more artists hfhvb #also hint to Henny’s future partner! :D #it was fun letting alt and hen talk about their sexualities too uwu #readswapboys

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