#he and another party member had to pretend to not be inspecting the broken wall of the place they were breaking into cuz of guards

[tiny-barbarian]

I made a new character in less than 2 days for a one shot last night

His name is Scratch and his mouse is Nibbles

I've only had one session with this guy and I adore him

He headbutts his friends as a greeting

He talks fast and excitedly about basically everything

Often tries to explain his thoughts process in depth

Has minimal recognition of social cues

Is jittery and hyper basically all the time

Doesn't think before acting a lot?????

Loves his mouse and talking about him

Loves small, high places where he can cozily survey his surroundings

Can't sit still and even while heist planning he will be laying on a bench with his head hanging upside down off the end

[ghostlywritten]

How Dare You II.

Words: 3,5k+

Part I

You quickly rushed through the crowd, pushing your way out. “Y/N!” you heard him call you over the noise, his voice panicked. “Y/N!!”

Wiping your tears, you glanced around for a place to hide, knowing he would catch up on you before you made it home otherwise. Spotting the ladies room, you went over and slammed the door close behind you, leaning against it as sobs wracked through your body.

How could you ever think he would have asked you out because he could possibly like you? Him, being the charismatic leader of a popular band, and you...being a makeup artist. Using you as a bet to win the money he didn’t even need...you breathed in shakily, trudging towards one of the toilets to grab some paper and blow your nose as you sat down the seat; you had never felt so pathetic, so foolish before. But most of all, you had never felt so hurt before.

You had always considered yourself a rather apathetic person, who didn’t let her emotions get the best of her but now; right now all you wanted to do was get in your bed and hide under your covers for the rest of your life.

-

Thanking the driver softly, you got out of the cab and walked up the stairs to your apartment lifelessly. You wondered what to do now, you couldn’t keep working for them after all. Being their make up artist, you would be in their - in his - ultimate vicinity and you didn’t think you could handle it. On the other hand, you still had to pay your rent and you couldn’t afford to be unemployed.

“Y/N!” your head snapped up, realising you had reached your flat. Hanbin was there pacing up and down the hall in front of your door but immediately stopped when he saw your approaching figure. You stayed silent, not knowing what to say as you regarded his disheveled features. Your chest tightened at his sight and you hated yourself for your racing pulse.

“She hasn’t said the three words, yet!”

“She doesn’t need to. I know she loves me, I just have to say it first!” his obnoxious voice rang through your mind repeatedly and your mouth pulled down into a frown.

He waited for you, wringing his hands nervously as he watched you come closer. You wordlessly went right past him as he opened his mouth and proceeded to unlock your door. “Y/N, please. I can explain!”

“No need,” you said with an unsteady voice, “I got it.”

“You have to listen to me!”

“Listen to you?” you whispered, turning around to glare at him. He looked startled upon hearing the venom in your voice, “I don’t have to do shit, Hanbin. And in case, you didn’t get it; we are over.”

“No, Y/N!” Hanbin protested, his voice thick as he grabbed your wrist to stop you from closing the door on him, “Please! I do really like you.”

“Liar!” you hissed, “You did it all just for a stupid dare with your friends!”

“I...”

“To make me fall for you until what? How much time did you have, huh? How easy did you think I am?”

“Y/N, you aren’t-”

“How long?”

“Around three months...” Three months to make you fall for him. You looked that easy. Your breathing staggered as you tried to compose yourself; tried not to show how you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. “But Y/N, what we have is so much more than that. You are not just a bet to me, I swear! You-,” Hanbin stepped closer to stop you from closing the door on him if you tried, placing his palm against the wood, “You mean so much to me, jagiya,” he said softly, his eyes wide and openly displaying all his feelings...as they had done the entire time you thought it was real when it wasn’t.

“How much?”

“W-what?”

“How much money did you bet on?” He stared at you with a pained expression as he shook his head silently, not wanting to answer. “Tell me!” you almost shrieked and he flinched, looking away to the side as he whispered, “A...a hundred bucks.”

You nodded your head even though he couldn’t see, his eyes avoiding you in shame. A hundred bucks were worth it to play with your heart and break it beyond repair. You breathed in deeply to swallow down the hysteric laughter that wanted to bubble up your throat. He looked up when you suddenly turned and went into your living room, reaching for the hidden stash of money you kept for emergencies. Taking out a hundred dollars, you stalked back to him and slammed the money into his chest. He staggered back, gripping on the money in confusion.

“Congratulations, you won,” you hissed, slamming the door close just as his eyes widened in realisation.

-

56 missed calls and countless messages. You gazed at your phone, watching as it glowed to life in the darkness of your bedroom, showcasing another call and you inspected the name and picture with an almost detached interest. You knew who it was of course, but it appeared like your body didn’t react to it like it usually would: With giddiness and a heart growing twice its size. Now the little hurt organ just shrunk as if wrapping its arms tightly around itself to protect the little bit that wasn’t burned down to ashes.

How had you not seen this coming? It was so cliché. He had no interest in you whatsoever over the first two years that you knew each other and suddenly he started popping up everywhere you happened to be, always coincidentally running into you. You used to think there was no such thing as coincidence, it was all destiny.

Now, you knew better. It was all bullshit.

You had called in sick for a week and stayed at home for another as a vacation. The time was spent mulling over your situation, nursing your broken heart and otherwise staying under the covers to hide from the world. Sleep rarely found you, leaving you to stare blankly at the wall in the darkness.

Sometimes, you would scroll through your album and stare at the little amount of pictures you had with him. When you got through them you watched his vlives instead with the other members, looking at their happy go expressions. Even Hanbin appeared as fresh as ever, laughing at his member’s jokes albeit half-heartedly.

You glared at his face, wondering how he could go on with his life whilst you were here, not having showered for a week. It was kind of gross, actually.

You stood up abruptly, determination giving you the strength to rip the covers off of you as you headed over to the bathroom. Like hell, you were going to let him ruin your life. He wasn’t going to affect you, you wouldn’t let him have a hold on you anymore.

-

The next Monday you stood up early unlike all the previous days and prepared yourself for the first day at work after two weeks...physically and mentally.

‘You can do this, Y/N,’ you thought to yourself as you approached the company building with a racing heart.

“Oh Y/N, you are back!” one of your co-workers announced your arrival and you cringed at the amount of heads that turned to look at you. Whispers immediately erupted along with more than a few giggles.

“Where is your boyfriend?” one of them said snarkily as you headed over to your spot.

“Ah right. He isn’t actually your boyfriend. You were just a bet.” Laughter roared around you and you closed your eyes, dread filling you. How did they find out? They probably overheard the boys talking about it at the party like you did. Suddenly you didn’t feel that courageous anymore and the determination left you as quickly as it had appeared.

Ikon’s manager walked in, causing the laughter to quieten down immediately. “We are heading over to the location for the mv shooting. We need around seven make up artists and stylists each. Oh Y/N, you are back. Great, you can come along,” he immediately singled you out even as you tried to hide behind a rack of clothes. Giggles resounded through the room and your heart deflated. This was going to be hell.

The manager glanced around in suspicion, probably wondering what was so funny but he didn’t say anything and just left. You sighed as you gathered your stuff. Fortunately, your make up bag wasn’t rattened for once, but that only made you feel more humiliated; they didn’t think they needed to sabotage you anymore seeing as you were just a used toy.

The drive to the location was quiet on your part. You had put on your earphones so you wouldn’t have to hear the jests of your colleagues. You assumed - and sincerely hoped - this issue would soon be forgotten and you could get on with your life, otherwise you would seriously have to look for another job.

Trudging after the others, you entered the location, lazily looking around without seeing much as you were caught up in your thoughts. You knew you would meet him soon, there was no avoiding it. “Let’s head to the room,” the manager called out over the chatters, “The boys are already there.”

You swallowed tightly, not even able to acknowledge the glances you received as your heart pounded in your ears. Your hands started sweating as you clutched your bag to your chest. Walking behind the others, you listened to them greet the boys and vice versa casually, the number of years together letting you be more or less informal with each other.

Walking through the door, you tried to make minimal eye contact with anyone as you muttered your greetings, swiftly surveying the room. But you couldn’t help but stop when you saw Hanbin shot up from the couch he had previously been lounging on, his eyes wide and set on you.

You kept your expression carefully blank as you pretended to overlook him and went off to one of the available makeup stands to start unpacking your necessary tools, skillfully ignoring the stares of him and his members.

“Alright, we are on a schedule today so all of you are going to get their makeup done at the same time. We luckily have enough staff for today,” the manager announced and started to assign the members to you. You breathed out in relief as you didn’t get Hanbin but still tensed up when Junhoe walked up to you instead.

“Hello,” he greeted quietly, slipping into the seat.

“Hi,” you said emotionlessly, taking out the foundations colours you knew fit his complexion the best as you proceeded to mix them. The silence felt almost suffocating and the fact that you could practically feel his eyes burning into the side of your skull as he sat a few chairs away wasn’t helping much. Sighing heavily, you turned towards the boy and started your work, wanting to be done as soon as possible. You noticed Junhoe glancing around rapidly as he gulped, probably wondering where to look whilst you got close, keeping your expression cool.

“So, how have you been doing?” he asked awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“Seriously?” you replied flatly, deflating his hope of normal small talk.

“Listen, about what happene-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you interrupted him, the indifferent tone in your voice growing so cold you almost saw him shiver.

“But-,” he protested weakly, silenced by your direct glare as you met his eyes for the first time. You let him see the agony you couldn’t conceal, the pain you were enduring right now being in the presence of the one you loved and who had mercilessly fooled you along with his friends you had deemed as yours as well. He looked away after a while and let you do your work in (more or less) peace, leaving with an almost inaudible “I’m sorry”.  

Sighing for the umpteenth time, you collected your dirty tools and went to the nearest bathroom since you were already done. ‘That was easier than expected,’ you thought to yourself dryly as you washed your sponges, ‘At least I didn’t have to talk to Ha-’

“Y/N.” You jumped as his voice called out just when you thought about him and you whirled around to see him closing the door.

“This is a girls’ bathroom,” you pointed out, your mind racing on what to do as he approached you with a pained yet determined expression.

“I don’t care. Y/N, that night- what you said,” he began, walking closer as you backed away.

“Forget what I said.”

“You said I won.”

“Forget it!”

“Does that mean you love me?” he asked almost breathlessly as his eyes softened on you. You bit your lip and glanced away, your chest burning as you recalled that night. Right now, you wished you had never told him in the heat of your anger to at least spare you further humiliation.

“No, it doesn’t,” you said resolutely, grabbing your things to leave this suddenly tiny room. He held your arms gently to stop you, trying to get you to look at him as he pleaded, “Y/N, I know I didn’t hear it wrong. I’m here to tell you I lov-”

“No!” you shouted, making him and you both jump in surprise. You wiggled out of his grasp as you glared at him in full hatred. “You don’t fucking get to do this now. You’re a fucking liar and I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“But Y/N,” he protested, stepping forward to get a hold on you again. You tried to push him away again but he held on tighter this time, refusing to let go. “Y/N, you have to listen to me. That bet-” You shut your eyes, “-didn’t mean anything to me. You mean everything to me. I completely forgot about it until they brought it up. And the others even told me they forgot about it, too and just remembered when they were drunk.”

“What’s the point in telling me all this,” you said, giving up on shaking him off when you started to get tired, “You think everything is going to be fine now? That I’m going to ignore what you said, what they said?!” His grip loosened slightly but he quickly tightened it again when he saw you try to get out again. “You all but said you just had to lie to my face and say you love me for me to tell you, too,” you continued, almost choking on your words as tears built up on your face. Hanbin looked at you with a mixture of regret and agony. “And the worst thing is that you were actually right,” your voice broke off.

“It wouldn’t have been a lie if I said it,” he spoke up gently, taking your face in his warm hands as you shook your head, eyes shut and brows scrunched tightly to prevent the tears from falling. You didn’t want to waste any other tears on him, “Y/N, I love you.”

“No, you don’t.” He placed his forehead against yours as you held onto his forearms weakly, repeating the three words again and again as he stared into your soul with pure affection. “God, I love you so much...” You almost fell for it, your heart bursting upon hearing the long desired proclamation from him and letting him close the distance between you. Almost. 

“Is that part of your bet, too?” you asked as his lips were inches from yours. The light left his eyes as you gave him the coldest stare you could muster through your tear-filled eyes. “Get the girl to fall for your lies again? Is that what you bet on this time?”

“Y/N…,” he whispered desperately, his grip slacking, “No.”

“Will you get paid double if you manage to fool me again?”

“No, no,” he muttered repeatedly, his voice cracking as you finally ripped his arms off. You clasped your hands together in front of him. “Spare me, please. I’m begging you.” His eyes widened and you swore you saw his eyes start to glisten when he took your hands between his shaking ones.

“Y/N,” he choked but didn’t move as you went around him.

“I don’t have enough money to pay you again,” you said after opening the door and you could see his face scrunch up in anguish from the mirror, “So do me a favour and leave me alone.”

-

Life continued like it did, ruthlessly ignoring the pain you went through. You had to cope with the heartbreak of your possibly first true love whilst repeatedly having to see the very same person during the most part of your time.

Not a day passed by where Hanbin didn't try to talk to you or contact you in some way when you weren't meeting at work. Not a day passed by where he didn't apologise or beg you for another chance. It didn't exactly help you in moving on but you figured he would give up at some point. Maybe, if you had resisted him a bit longer back then, he would have given up on the bet too.

"Y/N," he greeted you once again whilst you were washing your tools in the bathroom. He leaned against the doorway and the sight of him in this familiar surrounding painfully reminded you of the happy times you had together. At least happy for you. But fools were always the happiest.

You didn't reply, as usual, proceeding to fill your makeup bag with water. It was stained with foundation, the others having started to play with your stuff again upon seeing the charismatic leader relentlessly follow you around like a kicked puppy. 

It had taken Hanbin a while to notice why you always had to stay back longer for this but despite his attempts of talking to them, it seemed they wouldn't stop. So, instead, he came up and grabbed some tools himself, silently starting to clean up as well. You resisted the urge to bite your lip at the close proximity, trying hard not to show how his presence still affected you after so many weeks.

How it seemed that the only thing that could heal your heart and get it to sing happily again was the exact reason why it had gotten hurt in the first place.

His hand suddenly enclosed yours, stopping you from any further movement when you were done with washing up. Startled, you looked up into his eyes for the first time in a while. Hanbin stared deeply at you with an almost unreadable expression, intertwining his fingers with yours. You frowned at his sudden boldness and attempted to get out of his hold. "Wha-"

"How much longer are you going to ignore me?”  he asked and you could practically feel the frustration build up inside him after weeks of one-sided communication, “Were you that busy that you couldn't reply to any message or call from me?"

"No, I wasn't busy at all, actually," you replied coldly and you could see the hurt flicker in his eyes.

"Y/N, please. Haven't we suffered enough?" he asked quietly, his hand coming up to lightly graze your cheek. "I'm so sorry," he said brokenly and you closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to lean into his touch, your chest aching upon hearing the pain in his voice, "How much more do I need to apologise for you to finally forgive me?"

"Hanbin-"

"What do I have to do? I will do anything!" he promised, pulling your intertwined hands up to his chest where his heart was beating rapidly, "I sw-"

"Noona?" a voice interrupted whatever he was going to say. You looked over his shoulder to see San standing at the doorway. He was a new assistant for the cameramen, wanting to become a film director one day. Hanbin frowned at the taken attention, turning around to see the intruder.

San visibly paled under the glare and quickly bowed to greet his elder. You were slightly impressed that he didn't immediately run away. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know noona had company."

"It's okay, San-sshi," you replied softly. Hanbin's head snapped back to you as you got out of his hold, swiftly gathering your things, "We can go eat lunch now."

"Great! I know this awesome restaurant right across the street if you want to go?" San asked eagerly and you smiled slightly at his lively spirit, trying to walk up to him when Hanbin stopped you.

"Not busy at all?" he asked bitterly, his eyes burning into you.

You swallowed tightly before responding, "Looks like we are both liars." His face fell and you only gave him a second to trace your features one last time as you rushed passed him, knowing full well that you wouldn't see him that much anymore when you successfully asked to be assigned to another group. You had finally cut him off for good.

Hanbin watched your figure disappear from his sight and he winced as he could physically feel his heart rip out and follow after you, leaving his shell behind. He rubbed his forehead as he trudged through the halls to the only sanctuary he had now. Closing the door to his studio, he slumped down on the only available chair in front of his desk, the computer screen and lamp beside it the only source of light in the room.

The sight of you walking beside another made him close his eyes in agony and he pressed his lips together tightly. He knew, somehow he knew, that he had no chance whatsoever anymore. Despite all his attempts and despite all the reassurance of his members - along with apologetic glances - he knew he had lost you forever.

He pushed away the water bottle on his desk, revealing a picture of your smiling face taped on the edge of his screen. "What am I going to do without you?" he whispered as he traced over your features before grabbing a pen and paper to start jotting down the lyrics to many upcoming breakup songs.

End

In case you don’t know who San is:

Stan Ateez.

Help me Get Coffee Support?

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Alliance of Convenience 09/29

Lebeaux Desrosiers sipped lightly at the brandy, having already made himself comfortable and them some. At Daijiro’s arrival the hand around Rashk shifted to gently pet gloved fingers along the Keeper’s forearm, careful not to smudge the golden paint. “Good evening, Daijiro. I suspect you recall when last we spoke?” He began with a serene smile. “I was offered membership to the club, on certain conditions.”

Daijiro Satake can see where this is going. He offers a smile, though it does not reach his eyes. "So you were, Ser. I take it then that you have selected a host that is to your liking?"

Rashk Geilt's eyes are heavy-lidded, his free hand rising to idly run his long nails through Lebeaux's fur collar. "He has exquisite taste, doesn't he?"

Lebeaux lifted his chin slightly. His smile ever-saintly but a corner quirked briefly to make the expression ever-so-smug. “But of course. And as it turns out Rashk was perfectly amenable…” to working together to get what they respectively wanted, but what did that matter. “As well as considering himself up to the challenge of taking on a particularly discerning client. And now here we are.”

Daijiro smiles faintly. "It would seem that you are a better fit than even I had imagined. But then, it is only appropriate that the mysterious host should be full of surprises. Is it not?" He places his arms behind his back, where they can wrench together tightly. "I am curious. How did the pair of you find such common ground? Ah! Assuming of course that our host accepts Ser Desrosiers as client. Though I would hesitate to doubt such a proposition." He eyes Rashk.

Rashk slides his hand up, on its way to rest near the back of Lebeaux's neck if it wasn't stopped. He leans in closer, tilting his face, gaze fixated on the Elezen's features like he's entirely fascinated by him. What a pretty face. What an unsettling personality. Fortunately, it isn't the first time Rashk pretends to adore something possibly odious. "Oh, he already had my very enthusiastic consent earlier, but might as well make it official: I accept Ser Desrosiers as my client."

Daijiro continues his faux smile. "How wonderful. This is cause for celebration, surely." There is a distinct pause. "Ah, I do believe I have a fine bottle of Ishgardian bubbled wine somewhere in the kitchen. Rashk, mayhaps you would help me find it? If you can tear yourself from this ... lovely gentleman, of course."

Lebeaux allowed soft fingers and sharp nails to slide up through the lush fur of his collar to settle on the back of his neck. Tilting his head slightly into the touch and parting full lips to allow the smile to grow slightly. Yet even so it never managed to reach his eyes. “Mm, it certainly was an enjoyable way to make alliances. I’ll have to consider it in all my business transactions.” He mused idly, playing along as he took another sip of the brandy, his gaze settled on Daijiro all the while. “In any case I do look forwards to Rashk showing me all the ins and outs of the establishment.” He noted, lifting his hand away from the miqo’te should he wish to go ‘help find the champagne’.

Daijiro offers a slightly wider smile. "Ah, I was under the impression that most, if not all, business transactions on your part were for the purpose of bringing you pleasure, Ser Desrosiers. Save of course for your work in the clinic, which I'm sure is motivated by charity." He presses his lips together. "To call the bond between gentleman and host an alliance is an interesting notion. It is such a political word to describe such an affectionate, informal bond. Is it not?"

Rashk sighs in an entirely over-dramatic, put-upon way. He slides his hand away, nails lightly touching Lebeaux's cheek before he rises. "I do hate it when we misplace the champagne. We should always keep it in the same cupboard, shouldn't we?" He turns, taking his glass of wine with him, raising an eyebrow as he stops near Daijiro's side. "Mm, what would you prefer? Pleasurable twist of fate?"

Daijiro smiles. "So we should", Daijiro agrees. "And for such important words, it is important to reflect on them a while before choosing. A rash choice is often an ill one. Do you not agree?" 

“Ah, I may still be learning the ways of things beyond the walls of Ishgard yet even I can realize that to call such a bond a ‘friendship’ is to invite trouble.” Lebeaux mused as he lifted his hand to run fingers briefly along Rashk’s waist and across his back as he was departing his lap to set his jewelry to jingling. Lifting his own chin slightly as nails dragged gently along his precious face. “While I understand that is rather the point of this club, to indulge in the fantasy of something more, I’d rather not swallow it all in one gulp. Everything in Moderation, Daijiro.” He called out.

Daijiro then bowed before Lebeaux as a precursor to moving to the kitchen.

Rashk throws a look over his shoulder before he heads after Daijiro, his tail flicking in his wake.

Daijiro's pretence of smiling dropped as soon as the door closed. He gave Rashk a flat look, whispering: "I assume there is a very good reason for your indulgences, Ser Geilt?"

Daijiro hums. "I am sure." He then returns to the lounge without giving Rashk a further look, holding out the bottle. "I apologise, Ser Desrosiers. This bottle proved especially difficult to locate."

Lebeaux smiled serenely as he exhaled curling tendrils of smoke, lifting his attention to the two returning. “I shouldn’t wonder if your manservant may have found it more quickly. I am aware I am a particularly fascinating subject of discussion, but should you require another such lengthy conversation do at least have the courtesy to leave the brandy behind to amuse myself with. I do hope you don’t treat all of your guests with such disrespect.”

Daijiro gives Lebeaux a look. "Of course", he says. "An excellent suggestion, Ser Desrosiers. And my apologise. It was not at all my intent to slight you." He then moves the bottle towards the other side of the table, nearer to Rashk. The Miqo'te might've settled in, but he was happy to let him open it while he sat. Unaware of the black smudge on his lips.

Lebeaux snickered softly. “Of course it wasn’t. You ah, have a bit of something there.” He noted as he tapped his own lower lip with a gloved finger. “I see negotiations went particularly well.”

Rashk does give Daijiro a longer sidelong look, but apparently he isn't keen on playing informant about the transferred blush of dark on Daijiro's pale lips. He reaches for the bottle instead, uncorking it and turning enough to refill Lebeaux's glass for him.

Lebeaux blinked blankly as his brandy glass was refilled. The elezen lifted the glass and inspected it before he held it out to Rashk. “How thoughtful, yet I’ll take the champagne after you’ve gone through all that trouble to find it. You may have this one.” Smiling all the while he let his attention settle back on Daijiro. “Well, if I were to make an assumption based on what I’ve seen leading up to it, I would rather suspect that Rashk has neatly thrown a wrench into your little machinations by agreeing to take my patronage. And if that mark was any indication, some sort of common ground was found.” He mused on another exhale of smoke-laced breath. “Perhaps assurances that I would be on my best behavior. Or that he could handle it.”

Daijiro chuckles. "Ah, I see", he remarks. "I cannot deny that there have been certain troubles between us. And certain troubles between you and several of our members. But then, you are going to abide by all the rules, are you not?" He offered a slight shrug. "So then, I do not see why there should be any trouble. Unless you believe that our agreement of truce was not sincere?" He folds his hands into his lap delicately. "But then, it would be ill form to accuse you of mistrusting me. When we have been through so much together."

Iskandar Reza lets himself into the club and quietly closes it as he notices a party gathered. Smiling at both Daijiro and Rashk, Lebeaux caused his mouth corner to twice but he managed a smile at last. "Gentlemen, pardon my interuption..."

Rashk takes the glass back, drinking about half in one go as he throws it back like one might be drinking whiskey instead. He doesn't comment despite being the topic of discussion, turning so that he can pour champagne instead. He blinks then, lifting his gaze to Iska as the man enters.

Daijiro looks over to Iska, then. "Ah, Iskandar. Please be kind enough to greet our newest member? Rashk has decided to embrace Ser Desrosiers as one of his gentlemen." He carefully watched Iska's face, scrutinising his reaction.

"How delightful to see you. Champagne? We are celebrating, as you can tell by the warm and festive atmosphere." Rashk chimed in.

Lebeaux accepted the champagne instead, taking a small sip of it. “Just so, Daijiro. And I have recalled my half of that truce.” He explained, setting down the somnus pipe and reaching into his jacket instead. He paused when Iskandar entered and tilted his head in greeting to the young man. “A pleasure to see you again.” He stated pleasantly before he turned his attention back to Daijiro and removed a small blackened iron contraption made of two bars, a few screws, some spikes and a turning clip. “I hope it brings you as much joy as it has me.” He stated as he set it down on the table.

Daijiro pales as he sees the contraption, his form going rigid. He watches it. "..." For a moment he is silenced.

Iskandar offers a soft nod to Daijiro and sweeps a respectful bow to their new patron. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Ser. I'm delighted you've joined as an honored member." The Thavnairian did look pleasant, Rashk having taken the fall for them all. "Do but call for me if there is anything I can assist you with on future visits."

Rashk's gaze lands on the item presented before it flicks to Daijiro, unblinking as he studies the man's expression. The spell is broken when Iska heads over and Rashk smiles, turning to offer a glass to him as well.

Lebeaux lifted gloved fingers to his own lips as he watched Daijiro’s reaction. Savored it, perhaps, would be a better description. “Is something the matter, Daijiro? Have you changed your mind and no longer want it? I thought it was to be a symbol of our friendship from here on out. A promise of sorts.” And to ensure they couldn’t be placed on the Hingan’s fingers ever again.

Iskandar smiles as he settles beside Rashk, whispering his thanks at the offered glass. His thick brows knit as he studied... whatever the elezen had brought.

Rashk pours the last glass, then, before he rises and heads over to Daijiro to hold it out, briefly blocking him from view. At least he's offering the other two another kind of view while he's standing there.

Daijiro looks up. "Ah. No. I would be gratified to accept it as a gift", he says. "A memento, one might even say." He looked back at Lebeaux with contained fury.  Until Rashk came in to block his view of the elezen. He accepts the glass. "That's what this host club is all about. Bringing people together. Isn't it, Rashk?" The glare for the other host was undisguised now.

Lebeaux  took a small sip of his own champagne, slightly annoyed that Rashk was blocking his view, though his smile didn’t slip at all. He had certainly been enjoying watching the Hingan turn slowly whiter until he nearly matched the elezen’s coat. “Well then, to bringing people together.” He declared cheerfully, lifting his champagne in a small toast, tilted gently in the direction of the other three before he took a sip.

Daijiro lifted his glass as well, then, taking a big sip from it. Slightly more than he usually might.

Iskandar shifted his  gaze between Daijiro and Lebeaux, tense matters that were not his business. "Indeed." Iska agreed, lifting his glass with a pleased look and enjoyed a healthy sip.

Rashk is the odd one out in the toast--he still has half a glass of brandy and uses that to toast with, while his wineglass sits forgotten on the table. "How fortunate that we've found common ground tonight."

@grey-lotus-ffxiv  @rashkgeilt  @lightspeed-gravity

[skiecas]

fic: stream

pair: iwaizumi ღ oikawa notes: ch 285. nsfw (whoops). OIKAWA IS BACK AND IN LEGGINGS SO I HAD TO.

❦ 

Yeah, okay, so Tobio-chan had managed to save his team from a pinch. Big fucking deal. That was his goddamn job as a setter and as a member of a volleyball team; where was the applause when Oikawa managed to tip back on his desk chair just right and hold the position for longer than five seconds—an actual feat?

Seconds ticked as the tiny volleyball men on his screen resumed their play, and then he was yanking his earbuds and taking off running, blood boiling up inside of him. He screamed as he went, from the sheer frustration of it all. “Aaarngh!”

He passed another body on the trail, just bolted right past without even realizing until a lecture followed after him. “Settle down, idiot,” Iwaizumi said. “It’s not a race.”

Oikawa skidded to a halt from the surprise alone, frozen in mid-jog pose until Iwaizumi caught up and his body eased into movement again, matching his pace now. He was frowning petulantly and he wanted Iwaizumi to remark upon it, so of course he did not, and Oikawa had no choice but to bring it up himself.

“I see Tobio-chan is having fun at Nationals,” he sniffed. It came out sounding closer to a scoff when his mouth apparently decided he was more annoyed than he’d thought.

Iwaizumi’s answering tone was flat. “I told you not to check.”

“How could I not, when Kindaichi was blowing up the team chat with all his yelling? I can’t believe he of all people is cheering on that shrimpy from Karasuno. You wanted to look too, Iwa-chan, just admit it.”

“But I knew nothing good would come of it,” he retorted, “so I didn’t.”

“Yes, Iwa-chan, you’re sooo much better than me and everyone knows it, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Blegh.” He quickened his pace just a tad, just enough that he’d gain a bit of the upper hand so Iwaizumi would know he was annoyed and thinking of running ahead without him and then he’d feel sorry.

Iwaizumi was not sorry. He simply matched his pace without comment, too busy checking his pulse to notice that Oikawa was pulling ugly faces at him for trying to act all cool and mature, and did he think he was fooling anybody, trying to pretend he wasn’t bothered that it was Karasuno at Nationals and not them? He’d been especially quiet on the first day of the tournament, staring out windows and forgetting his wallet on the lunch counter and sighing, long and dragged out, like the world was out to get him just because his pencil had simply slipped to the floor during class.

Even just now, when Oikawa had dug his phone from his pocket and Google-searched the Nationals live-stream, he had rolled his eyes and run on ahead like he couldn’t be bothered—but he was bothered, Oikawa knew, so much, and that was the problem.

Oikawa let out another frustrated yell and strayed off the path to attempt a flying kick at a nearby tree, all the while screaming, “Tobio-chan can suck it!”

His foot collided. Pain erupted in his big toe and, oh god, he was pretty sure it was broken. Bad idea, very bad.

Iwaizumi made no move to check on him, the asshole. He could be heard muttering “idiot” as he continued with his steady jog and went on ahead, and Oikawa attempted to hobble after him, clutching his leg and hoping he sounded extra pathetic when he whimpered, “Iwa-chan, please, I’m injured.”

All right, so maybe he hadn’t really expected to be swept off his feet. But it would have been nice if Iwaizumi at least looked back.

Rude.

-

-

“Hold still, would you?”

“Just hurry up!”

Oikawa tutted. “I am trying, but I can’t when you keep wiggling like that.”

He managed to shimmy out of his shorts as he said this, teetering on a single foot while the only thing keeping him balanced and upright was his fist coiled into Iwaizumi’s jacket.

“This place isn’t big enough for two people,” Iwaizumi grumbled. He didn’t retract his hand from Oikawa’s waist, though, doing his part to hold him steady. “Why can’t you grab on to the wall?”

“Germs!” Oikawa cried, aghast. “Public bathrooms are a breeding ground for them, Iwa-chan, I could catch some flesh-eating virus and then what? Who’d bring that added sparkle into your life if I wasn’t around? Now, hold still,” he ordered, before Iwaizumi could say whatever he had opened his mouth just then to say—probably scathing words.

Oikawa tugged on the waistband of his tights, a line of his underwear and the ridge of his hipbone becoming visible. His foot still throbbed and that was why they were here, how he had convinced Iwaizumi to abandon his run and find some vacant coffee shop on the road instead. Please, Iwa-chan, it hurts so much. I’m dying, I think I’m really dying and I can’t die from a toe-related injury, I need to go out in a haze of flaming volleyballs or something equally cooler, not because my toe exploded. Iwaizumi had taken him round the neck and clamped a hand over his mouth as they asked a disgruntled and rather feral employee to point them towards the bathroom.

Oikawa performed some sort of one-footed acrobatics to untangle the one leg from his tights, then inspected himself. A little red, but otherwise, “It looks... okay.”

“Wow, I am so fucking honored to be sharing this disgusting bathroom stall with the king of melodramatics.”

“Well,” Oikawa argued, struggling to keep his dignity intact as he was now met with the challenge of adorning his leggings once more, “you should always check up on these things. Injuries only get worse if you ignore them.”

Iwaizumi did a full roll of his eyes, muttering “injury, my ass” under his breath, until they had done a complete three-sixty and landed back on Oikawa as he attempted to compact his thighs enough that they’d slip inside the fabric. He managed, but it didn’t look comfortable and he would have almost toppled over if Iwaizumi’s chest wasn’t harder and firmer than a diamond.

“Those are your sister’s leggings, aren’t they?”

He blurted out the observation as soon as it manifested, and was met with Oikawa’s rather stunned face before the poor boy basically could have made a living signaling ships out at sea, his ears were so pink they were practically glowing.

“Don’t laugh,” he hissed just as Iwaizumi barked out in laughter. Like, threw his head back and his whole chest shook and everything. Rude. “You know mine shrank in the wash—we can’t all be like you, you Sasquatch, just out in this weather in sweatpants—”

Iwaizumi wasn’t laughing anymore, but the smirk was palpable. It was one of his more attractive looks, that moment when he knew he was right and he was all set to be a total asshole who milked it for what it was worth and, goddammit, Oikawa was always on the fence about how to feel about being the receiving party.

“How did you know, anyway?” he demanded.

“They obviously don’t fit right.” The fabric had stretched almost to the point of bursting, not used to the girth of a proper athlete. But it was in the lines visible to him; the arches of his thighs, the dip of his hipbone, the curve that traced along his pelvis until it sank farther down and created just the faintest outlines of his— “Uhh. I mean, they’re, you know... they’re kinda tight... around your...”

Iwaizumi faltered, hand making a vague notion towards Oikawa’s crotch before he clamped his mouth shut. Shit. Was this cubicle the fucking tiniest space to ever exist or was it just him feeling like the walls were closing in?

Oikawa’s lips parted. Oh. Oh.

“Ohhh~” he trilled, leaning in closer, until all his weight entirely rested upon Iwaizumi’s chest and their noses touched, and then he fluttered his lashes very quickly and in his most obnoxious way. And he was smug, so smug, but a trail of fire was searing his stomach and forging a path in a messy descent down the rest of his body, a sticky and unbearable heat he wanted to share right now with Iwaizumi.

He thrust their hips together, rolling them until they were melded into one.

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut, looking absolutely defeated, and uttered only a single syllable.

“Fuck.”

-

-

“Stupid, we’re in public!”

“All the more exciting, Iwa-chan, mmm...”

“I-Idiot, stop doing that. This is a public restroom, for fuck’s sake! What happened to all that crap about flesh-eating viruses?”

“I’ll let you suck aaaall over my flesh if that’s what you want, Iwa-chan~”

“...fuck.”

“Iwa—oof, you’re so rough.”

“God damn, I’m really gonna take you against this wall so good and—”

A knock sounded through the door. All their frantic rustling died away to nothingness when they froze, dread washing over the cubicle. Then, the same employee from the counter grunted across the barrier, “You two just about done in there? Get outta my shop.”

Angry footsteps slowly faded into silence.

The boys looked at each other.

“...your house or mine?”

-

-

Oikawa worried that the short distance from the coffee shop to Iwaizumi’s room would quell this sudden heat, but he shouldn’t have worried. The race home only heightened their senses, so aware of each other’s bodies and movements as they moved as one, and Oikawa’s blood was already pumping fierce and hot even before Iwaizumi all but threw him into his bedroom, thumbs coming up to press to the sides of his mouth when he took his lips.

Jammed them together, really, no thought for being gentle or kind. He was pressing himself to Oikawa’s thigh, just grinding the hell out of him like some rabid animal seeking relief, and where was all this sudden enthusiasm coming from when he’d had him in a headlock back in the bathroom stall?

“Iwa-chan, god,” Oikawa choked, then pushed back just as strong. If Iwaizumi was going to be this fucking hot without warning, he’d have to at least return it.

They stumbled like this towards the bed, making out and seeking friction. Hotter still was that they were both damp from their run, and Oikawa imagined Iwaizumi’s sheets smelling of sweat and sex intermingled when they were done, pictured them lying in it completely spent.

He was pushed onto the mattress. Iwaizumi climbed him, slinked up his body until his face was pressed between his legs, and Oikawa, he jutted his hips into the air and had to draw blood on his own lips to hold back a groan.

“Hnng.”

“Off,” Iwaizumi ordered, and he obeyed, scrambling for his shorts.

He reached for the hem of his leggings next, itching to tug them off and free himself for the taking, but firm hands closed around his. He stopped and looked up at Iwaizumi. He had this hard look on his face—dark, and really sexy.

“Not those,” he said.

Oikawa’s mouth fell open. “Iwa-chan?”

“I like them.” Well, shit. His voice was like gravel, throaty and low, as he whispered to him this filthy secret. “They make your legs look really twiggy and breakable, it kinda turns me on.”

Uhh? “What kind of weirdo kink—ung!”

Iwaizumi ripped off the leggings like he meant to tear them to shreds, his nails catching Oikawa’s skin and dragging against him to leave blaring red marks. He let them snap halfway down his thighs, and his hands were brutal and quick when he tossed him onto his stomach. Oikawa had enough time to grapple for a pillow, to bring it to his chest and bury his face in it, then he bit into the cotton fabric just as Iwaizumi sank his teeth into his flesh.

Squirming, he wailed, “I need to sit on that ass.”

“Huh. Cute. That you think you’ll be able to sit after today.”

Okay, fuck. Fuck.

Iwaizumi jerked up his shirt and roamed his hands all over his body, feeling him out and rubbing him where he was softest, making him squirm. Oikawa couldn’t see the room, he was so dizzy and so full of this need that was like a fever burning his skin, and his shirt was bunched around his chest and his body was half melted into the mattress when he heard Iwaizumi’s sweatpants being shucked to the side, and then a warm body was pressed to his, Iwaizumi’s mouth was on his ear and he was telling him, whispering, “You should see what you look like right now, Tooru.”

Then he was slick and warm upon his thighs, slathering him up with lotion before pushing himself into the hole he had created, into the little sliver of space above the band of his leggings.

He groaned as he sank in. “Goddd...”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathed, and his voice crackled. “Use me.”

Iwaizumi pushed his hips up once, and then thrust in, rutting hard against him, burning him with his heat and groaning into his ear and pressing kisses to the back of his neck or breathing on it, using the inside of Oikawa’s thighs the same filthy way Oikawa used his mattress. He looked over his shoulder and Iwaizumi’s lips were on his mouth, licking him and biting him and it was all saliva and really good, but all he thought of was thrusting and how amazing that felt, how hot this was, how hot his Hajime was touching him and using him as he pleased, groaning into his ear you’re incredible, Tooru, you’re, ahh, you feel incredible, ah—!

Iwaizumi came undone first; his hips came up with one final push, and Oikawa felt him spill hot and sticky over his legs. With what seemed to be all of his remaining energy, he wound a hand around and took hold of Oikawa, jerked him and rubbed him and helped him until the sounds he made were broken and pleading for more—Iwa-chan, please more, Iwa-chan ohmygod AH!—and then his hands also joined in, clumsy and fumbling as he gripped himself together with Iwaizumi and worked himself to climax.

Eventually, he also collapsed.

The sheets already felt dingy and wet, but he clung to them, to their softness and the distinct smell of Iwaizumi embedded into them.

“That was... hot,” he sighed into the pillow. His bangs were sticking to his forehead and it was annoying, but he didn’t have it in him to push them away.

He felt more than saw Iwaizumi snap his leggings off, freeing his legs and leaving him almost completely bare to the room. “Don’t get comfortable just yet,” he grunted, “because we’re not done.”

Oikawa tried to lift his head, managing a choked, “More?”

More than that fucking incredible experience?

A hand came down to smack his ass; the sound was sharp, and echoed into the room. Iwaizumi was smirking. “I seem to remember promising you wouldn’t be able to sit after today.”

Oikawa swallowed. Right. Right.

God, Iwaizumi was so sexy when he was like this, so dark and assured like he’d been put on this Earth just to fuck Oikawa to oblivion. Normally he avoided all his flirtations, all the needy rubbing and grinding and pleading, but when the flip was switched he was a new person altogether and that person was hot. Oikawa let that person pry open his legs and settle in between them, let him kiss and suck on his flesh and knead into him, soothe him and prepare him for more to come.

And the thought came to him, when they were joined, that his sister would definitely never see her leggings again.