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petit-etoile · 7 months

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A drabble idea for thee! I always thought when Tav/the MC steps closer during the Mirror Scene with Astarion that they were going to very gently touch his face while they describe what they see to him and he'd be doing his very best not to break into pieces since he's never had someone do that for him, to touch him with so much kindness without expecting anything from him in return.

my heart (part of you lives here)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 1,237 content warnings: i had this song by mitski on repeat the entire time & i fear that it is a mandatory listen other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, developing relationship, getting together, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia be added to the taglist here

summary:

‘What?’ Astarion asks, voice soft.

‘I see you,’ you tell him. ‘Let me be your mirror. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.’

You step forward and stare into his eyes, taking in every detail of his face. Astarion may not have aged physically since turning, but he certainly lives a life worth telling. You can see who he is by every detail that has been etched on his face by years of service. His pale, full eyebrows. His round, honest eyes. You must’ve caught him off-guard. He only looks like this when he’s caught unaware.

Carefully, without moving too quickly, you slide both of your hands over the shape of his cheeks, holding him still. You can tell he wants to run away — His eyes dart back and forth all over the place, looking anywhere but at you — but he stays still at your tender touch, eyebrows pulling together in concern. You rub your thumbs against his cheekbones encouragingly, tilting his head from side to side to appraise his features. You hum appreciatively and touch the mole near his eye tenderly.

‘What?’ Astarion asks, voice soft.

Astarion doesn’t mean to do it. He drops his haughty façade in exchange for something more vulnerable, chin dropping so he can meet your eyes. You slide your thumbs against the dark circles beneath his eyes and smile. He scowls immediately, but it doesn’t frighten you. Perhaps it should.

‘I see you,’ you tell him. ‘Let me be your mirror. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.’

Your voice shakes slightly. You both pretend it doesn’t.

‘ — What do you see when you look at me?’ Astarion asks.

You’re a little distracted by how his teeth peek out from behind his lips when he talks, but you steady yourself for his sake. You wonder if you should move your hands away. You don’t want to. You like looking at him.

‘You have strong, piercing eyes,’ you say quietly. ‘When you’re not as hungry, they shine brighter. When you are, they’re darker.’

His lips press into a firm line. ‘What else?’

The words slip out faster than you can think about them. ‘You’re pretty.’

‘Pretty?’

‘Your eyes crinkle when you laugh,’ you say, swallowing. ‘Laughing suits you. It lights up your whole face. Laughing makes you look your age.’

Astarion snorts, but it isn’t derisive. For all his love of attention, the more you study his face, the reclusive he seems to get. His eyes aren’t so penetrative now, and they’re more round the more you indulge him in his vanity.

‘What else?’ he pesters.

You slide your hands lower until you’re cradling his jaw. You push your thumb beneath his bottom lip and watch as he pouts. You’re trying so hard to focus, but he smells so handsomely and he’s so intoxicating that you struggle to keep yourself grounded.

‘You have a dangerous smile,’ you tell him. ‘Sometimes when you grin, one side of your mouth lifts higher than the other. Your teeth show, but it’s not… scary to me. You have a nice smile and… and… your jaw is very nice.’

Astarion snorts again and rolls his eyes, but he no longer seems achingly desperate for a perfect description. He grabs your wrists and leans in closer, showing you one side of his face and then the other, preening for your compliments and attention. He draws you in without even intending to. You stumble closer, and now that you’re worried, you try to move your hands out of your intense fear they might get sweaty from you being so nervous. He holds you still.

‘You’ve practiced looking disheveled,’ you whisper, throat tightening. ‘Your hair is…’ You change your mind. ‘Do a spin for me. Let me see the whole picture. Please.’

Astarion laughs — a loud babbling brook kind of laughter that makes you dizzy. He releases you then in order to twirl for you demurely. He looks at you from beneath his thick eyelashes and flutters them, biting shyly at his lip. It’s so very rehearsed that you can’t help but laugh as well, looking away. You touch your own cheeks and nearly cringe at how warm they are.

‘You’re very beautiful, but — ’

‘But!’ he interrupts.

‘But,’ you insist, ‘you’re Astarion!’

He gasps and looks positively debauched. He presses a hand over his chest and pretends to be wounded, winding down to the chair next to his little table. He waves you over and insists that you join him on the floor, and then it’s his turn to lean forward inquisitively. One small mistake and your noses would bump into one another. You wish a foul wind would blow and knock him over so that you could kiss him without embarrassing yourself.

You cross your legs and lounge on his decorative cushion, stretching out your spine and failing to dislodge a rather painful knot you can feel forming in your lower back from all the climbing and roaming. You distract yourself with a loose thread on his rug and try to smooth it back down in the crevice where it goes.

‘Now what did you mean by that, my dear?’ Astarion asks, nudging you with his foot. ‘That I’m Astarion.’

You close your eyes. ‘Oh, you know that you’re pretty,’ you say, grabbing his ankle before he can flee. ‘I’ve seen you bloody and muddy, and wet and ragged, and you’re still very pretty.’

‘Prettier than Shadowheart?’

‘So you think Shadowheart is pretty?’

Astarion whines and jostles his leg free from your grip. ‘Forgive me if I fish for attention,’ he complains. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve had this much fun.’

‘I think you’re the prettiest,’ you say with a shrug. ‘Prettier than anyone else in camp, except maybe Withers.’

You’re grateful that Astarion’s mood seems to have turned over. He’s not the easiest to always get along with and sometimes he’s so broody that you’re not sure how to navigate his moods, but you’re learning.

You both talk and laugh for a little longer about whatever comes to mind — You talk about Shadowheart’s make-up and Karlach’s morning workout routine, and how Wyll always stretches during daybreak and that it’s cute Lae’zel tries so hard to join him in order to entice him, and that Scratch permanently chooses to wake up Gale before anyone else is relieving because it means you get to sleep for a few hours more. You only realize how late it is when you turn your head and notice everyone has snuffed out their lanterns and candles. You bite the inside of your cheek and mourn the fact that you must go so soon.

‘I should go,’ you say ruefully.

‘You should stay,’ Astarion disagrees. ‘Come, stay in my tent for the night. You should get to use my things since I’m the one who forced you to stay awake past your bedtime. That bedroll looks awfully uncomfortable from here.’

‘Where will you sleep?’ you ask, suddenly reserved.

‘Next to you,’ he says, ‘or outside if you’d prefer. I could keep watch.’

‘ — next to me is fine,’ you tell him.

‘Good,’ Astarion says, smiling. ‘Let me be selfish if it means I get to look at you. I’ll return the favor, you know. Let you know about your eyes and smile next long rest. It’s the least I could do.’

You’re too nervous to sleep that night and he knows it. But come the next long rest, Astarion tells you every detail about your face and you understand, with overwhelming gravity, what you have done for him.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic #anonymous #* a thousand lives，and one #WHAT IF I SAID #THIS ONE WAS SO SELF-INDULGENT #I WAS TWIRLING MY HAIR SWINGING MY FEET GIGGLING #the mirror scene has me so down bad i can't even lie about it

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icedb1ackcoffee · 2 months

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Ecologist!Reader aesthetic | Corrupted by Design | Feyd-Rautha x Reader

You stood out compared to the Harkonnens, in more ways than just one. You wore loose clothing: rich brown pants or skirts and deep greens tied around your torso and arms, sometimes flashes of red or blue—all washed out under any sunlight. You carried with you strange jars and herbs, your dark, sunblocking glasses atop your head if not perched on your nose, your waist satchel stuffed with samples—you must have looked completely alien to their more minimalist sensibilities. “You dress oddly for someone from the Imperium,” one of your workers remarked. “Is it your goal to one day turn into a plant, and not just look like one?”

Corrupted by Design (Rated E)

#I know I said I tried to make reader nondescript but when I write these pictures are very inspiring for me!#i probably have like 500 pins on my pinterest board for this story #feyd rautha x reader #dune fic #dark fic #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x oc #feyd x reader #please excuse my half-assed attempt at making this collage ‘aesthetic’ I have no idea what I’m doing #the other pictures i used for my headers were b&w and made it difficult to see the colors of the clothing #so here is me being extremely self indulgent lol #idk i just really like the idea of the imperial ecologist!reader being so warm and full of life #compared to the very wild and intense Feyd #i think about this way too much in case that wasn't extremely obvious 😭 lmao #me shouting into the void basically #none of these images belongs to me #corrupted by design

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infernal-lamb · 9 months

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This is my oc Neves (from my WIP cotl fic) and the Lamb, they go on very normal adventures where nothing bad happens and the best part about being in a cult is Having Fun and Being Yourself !!

(this is not true. the horrors are endless)

#cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl fanart #cotl au #cotl oc #there IS a fic to go with this i just havent posted it yet #i am cringe but i am free #and very self indulgent #look. i know i know its a human cotl oc PLEASE #grown ass woman meets fucked up lamb #my art

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zensations35 · 4 months

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I Now Pronounce You Allergic (LSSR)

Yeahhh I FINALLY FINISHED IT!! I'm sorry it took forever but IT'S WORTH IT! Ahem...please enjoy Ren and Sasha's first totally-not-a-date where they BOTH find themselves allergic to the flowers at their friends' wedding--and then proceed to have a holdback challenge. Spice warning, yes there is snzfucking!

Skye helps me put the finishing touches on my makeup. I line my lids with blue and pink and a bold purple.

“Is bi pride appropriate for a lesbian wedding?”

Skye laughs. “Abby won’t care. Kadie,” she trails off, “Who knows with her these days.” Skye clasps hands under her chin and coos. “You look gorgeous.”

Skye helped me pick out a subtly sexy midnight blue dress that I’d been eyeing for weeks but didn’t think I could pull off. It cups my skin so tight it’s like an aura as opposed to a dress.

“How many times have you reassured me about clothes?” Skye’s hand flicks toward my ass--I love the way my ass looks in this dress.

I pair the dress with silver earrings and bracelet. A purple bandana wraps my hair, the bulk of it gathered in a neat bun at the back.

Skye’s face illuminates as she scrolls through her phone. “Ren’s almost here.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. I’m not wanted there--too much history--and! Leo has tickets to Excalion! I’d honestly rather be there.”

“Than your friends’ wedding??”

Skye’s brows rise, “Than an ex’s wedding who can’t stand me? Yes.”

“Fair point.”

Ren picks me up ten minutes later. He’s dressed not unlike he does when he goes to work. Suit, tie, vest, but…is that glitter on his cheek? Skye and I share a look and I see that ‘he’s so adorable’ look on her face.

The venue is big--bigger than I expected from what Ren’s told me about one of the brides. Wide pillars, an archway the size of twelve Rens, marble fucking floors?? Who needs that??

Ren leads me inside and noise surrounds us, people chatting and laughing. I’m swallowed by sound and scents and--

My body turns to iron and I stop walking. Ren startles and looks at me with confusion. But my eyes are fixed on the tables. The tables with bright, purple, bushy…flowers. A very specific flower.

“Ah,” Ren hums as if it makes complete sense. “Yes, I was afraid of this.”

I stare at the offensive flowers. If looks could shank you in a back alley, those flowers would be a crime scene. My lips pinch. The chatter around me numbs to a dull hum. Everything loses focus.

The flowers start to warble and blur behind a saline lens. My sight is compromised. My nose sucks all of the energy out of my other senses. As if it’s putting on a damn light show.

I feel my lip twitch. I hone in on the tickle--the wretched sensation that’s going to ruin this whole experience. My lips form a crescent scrunch and I hear myself growl.

“Ahm…” Ren leans next to me. “Sasha?” he tips his head down to look at me and I jerk to the side. “Are you scrunching your nose?”

“No,” I say, but it comes out all congested and 100% unconvincing.

Ren lifts his brows. “Hm. I see.”

“Hxsh-T!”

His head snaps toward me as I recover and I feel my bones shrink. Fuck. I shoot him a don’t say a word look and he clamps his lips shut. “No. You saw nothing.” I refuse to let this be a thing. Even though, as we head toward our table, I find it overflowing with the atrocious bouquet and--

“Hyk-TSH-iah!” I snuffle and wipe my eyes with my fingers. Ren hands me a cloth napkin and I try not to glare at him as if this is his fault.

We’re seated at a four-person table and across from us are two other people. One of them is a very tall, very burly woman who could be on the cover of a weight lifting magazine. Her slinky copper hair is fluffed at the top and pulled into an amalgamation of a ponytail-slash-braid. I can’t imagine an actual salon doing that to her, so it was probably a homemade hair concoction.

The man she’s seated next to is…significantly smaller. Like, he looks so thin, I’m pretty sure a medium-sized breeze would knock him over. His wrists are bony and I think I see a purple bruise in the crook of his elbow. He also has a cloud of red curls and a matching spray of freckles dotting his face like the woman does.

I feel my nose threatening to misbehave again and I instinctively look for the champagne. There’s a glass in front of me next to a sheet of paper for each table setting. I inspect it closer and my stomach flips.

It’s a bingo sheet. There are things like ‘brides kiss without prompt’, ‘Anne talks about her beanie babies’, and--

“Ren sneezes during the best man speech?” the burly woman blurts in a thick drawl. A throaty cackle burst from her, not unlike that of a hyena. “Do you see this, Ikka?” she prods at the text, nudging the man next to her.

“Please, Iris,” His voice is rich and dull at the same time, accent a strange twang, as if he spent time in the UK and Texas, but not enough to fully form either accent.

“It’s just funny, right?” her cheeks dimple with a grin. Her voice is raw and boisterous as if she really is finding everything hilarious.

My eyes fall back onto the phrase: Ren sneezes during the best man speech. It’s right up top. What..the…heck, vanillas?

As if on cue, I hear the raspy intake of air right next to me. And the table jolts as Ren’s knees knock into it at the same time he jerks into a rigid, “HxSZg!”

I flush and can’t help my eyes rounding. Oh gods…him too??

He flashes me a sheepish look and rakes a finger against his nose. “I think we will get at least one point.”

I snort, “You did not…”

Another keening cackle from the lady across the table. “Oh shit, Ikka! That’s him,” she gyrates her wrist toward Ren. She props her chin on her upturned palm. “Tell me, Ren,” she says with a mixture of mischief and amusement, “Do you sneeze a lot?”

The man next to her groans and rolls his eyes. “I am so sorry,” he says to Ren. “She thinks she’s hilarious.”

“Well, I am, ain’t I?”

“Ren!” a floaty voice perks us all up and I see one of the brides hurrying toward us. Her brown hair is braided in a ring around her face and her cheeks are sunny and dimpled.

“Abigail,” Ren stands and lets her scrunch him with a hug. She pulls back and takes his hands, brimming with joy. “I’m so glad you made it! Gosh! I was worried people wouldn’t come because there’s no ceremony but--Ah! Is that your…date?” her eyes flick to me.

Ren gestures to me, “This is Sasha--Skye’s girlfriend. She is indeed in attendance with me.”

Abigail’s lips form a ring, “Oh, I see. Yeah, I’m so sorry about Skye, but,” she laughs awkwardly, “you know how Kadie is.” A knowing eye roll as her pink lips pucker.

Ren pats her hand, still attached to the V of his suit. “All is well. Skye is with our boyfriend Leo, seeing a concert.”

Abigail laughs uneasily. “Oh, well, good.” Her gaze warms. “I hope you have a good speech prepared. Kadie thinks you could get AI to write it and it would sound exactly like you.”

“I assure you, I did no such thing.”

My face is so tingly right now and I wish Abby would just leave so I can escape to the--

“SS-Ktsh!” I immediately shudder, arms wrapping around my midsection as I tuck my chin into my collar. Oh if I thought one was going to be enough--”Hit’SHKkk!” I was a fool. “Hax-SHIEU!”

“Oh,” Abigail trails fingers over her chest. “Are you okay?”

I nod, eyes still squeezed shut, free hand roaming the table for the--

Cloth presses into my palm and I feel the brush of Ren’s fingers. “She is well, I assure you. We seem to be experiencing similar issues with,” he gestures to the bouquets.

“Oh my gosh--I’m so sorry!” Abby coos. “Seriously, Kadie insisted, even though I said you were allergic. She was like, ‘he can just take a benadryl’ and I was--”

“It is quite alright, Abby. We are fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I think my grandma has Claritin?”

I perk up, “C or D?”

“Uhh, I’m not sure but you could go ask her,” Abigail points to an elderly woman seated next to the bar, with an oxygen tank next to her.

“Uhhh, maybe,” I lie. I’m definitely not sneezing enough to beg an old woman for allergy pills. It’d be just my luck to get her talking about her own allergy journey. I swear anyone over 60 loves to talk about the pollen count. Ydjjjehhhh...my teeth chatter involuntarily.

“Well, just let us know if you need anything!” Abby trills and floats away waving her fingers as if she’s boarding a plane.

I use the cloth to wipe my eyes again and blow out a frustrated breath.

“Sasha…”

I tip my eyes to Ren who looks nothing but concerned.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

I sniff, shunting my gaze.

“Please, be truthful.”

I puff. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then we shall leave.”

My shoulders lock. “What! No! These people are your friends! You’re the best man!”

Ren leans down, leveling his liquid blue eyes with mine.

“Sasha, out of everyone here, you are my priority.”

I flush, my heart thrumming through my chest and neck.

“Are you able to handle it?”

I twist the cloth between my fingers, “I don’t know.”

Ren leans over the table, facing to the side so all I see is the apex of his jaw. But he does that single-knuckle rub motion that always always leads to--

*snf* “Hh…”

I slam my eyes shut and do my best to think of banjo music.

“Hg-gk…hh-hih!”

And…he stops. His parted lips close. He exhales. Sniffles. Looks at his phone and scrolls like nothing happened.

I gape at him, my stomach flipping with butterflies. “Seriously?” I snap loud enough for the other table to turn their heads.

Ren looks at me, flabbergasted. “Was that wrong?”

“Yes!”

“So, I should have just…let it happen?”

“No!”

“Then…” Ren lifts his hands in a shrugging motion. I groan, burying my face in my hands, using it as an excuse to rub my own itchy nose with my palms.

“Hmm…” Ren taps a pen on a piece of paper. He spins it around and scribbles on it.

Ren 1 Sasha 5

I peer at it, then him, eyes lidded with suspicion. “What the hell is this?”

“A game.”

“A game?”

Ren leans back, “Whoever sneezes the most loses.”

My brows shoot up. “Are you joking?”

“Not particularly.”

I drop back down to the paper. I feel a buzzing in my limbs, as if I’m preparing for a marathon. It feels…exciting? Oh fuck it. My lips tick up and energy rushes through me.

“You’re on, Grayson.”

He smirks.

Ren eyes my champagne glass and points a slender finger. “Do you need another?”

I frown at him, “Will you be okay if I…”

Ren softens. “I will be fine, Sasha. I have been sober for a while now. I am capable of restraint.”

I nod, “Then sure. But grab some strawberries too. And apples! And maybe…”

Snickers from across the table. I look over to see the fitness model laughing. She sees me looking and smiles, wide and warm. “Y’all are so cute!”

I blush and turn to Ren but he’s already standing to leave for the food table.

“Um,” I wrinkle my napkin and clear my throat, “So, how do you know the brides?”

She continues to smile, “I don’t.”

I pause, waiting but she doesn’t continue.

“Alright, then your date does?”

She bursts into snorts of laughter, wide hands cupping her angular mouth, “Ikka,” she uses her elbow to nudge him and I hear him let out a tiny whine, “she thinks you’re my date.”

His lips crimp in amusement. “So did that other woman--the elderly one.”

My head spins like I’m being exorcized, “Wh-where?”

“The lady,” he points to a plump graying woman currently a table away, scolding people there for something. Her hair is a curly swoop over her brow and I see at least four crosses on her ears and necklace.

“Maybe we should play along,” the man, Ikka, says. “I don’t want to explain how we’re related.”

“We don’t have to go into detail, just tell her we’re half siblings.”

He drains his glass and rolls his eyes, “So she can ask why? No thanks.”

My ears prickle when I hear the so obvious sound my brain is fucking attuned for: hitching breaths. My eyes trail the room, searching, but I hear it before I see anything.

“HkXGn! H-Gk’dsz!”

It’s quiet, so miniscule I’m sure there are people at the buffet who didn’t even hear it. But I did.

When Ren arrives and deposits the drink and plate, my lips quirk up, “Two points for you.”

He looks alarmed, “You heard those?”

A laugh bubbles in my throat, “I could hear them from another room, Lawrence.”

I hear the braying laugh as the burly woman claps her hands together. “I think Kadie did the seating, Kah!”

“Iris, don’t fucking start--”

My left eye twitches. Apparently there’s wedding drama here that I want nothing to do with. I decide right then: I’m sticking to a small ceremony if I get married.

Ren passes me a plate of fruits, “I was not certain if you wanted red or blackberries, so I took both.”

Iris’s pitched voice calls, “Why do you talk like that?” She’s looking at Ren and my heart sinks.

Ren’s cheeks harden, lines appearing on his forehead. A flare of familiar anger sparks in his eyes as his voice sharpens. “I speak this way so I do not speak,” his chin tips at her, “that way.”

My hand flies out to smack his, “Ren! That was extremely rude!”

He buries his lips in his teeth, eyes shiny from chagrin. He sighs, brushing a thumb across his glass, leaving a scar of condensation behind, “I apologize,” he says to the woman.

To her credit, she just shrugs and resumes talking to her…brother? But I’m indignant for her. I glare at Ren and frown. “Ren, I get that you have trauma about your accent, but not everyone felt the need to change theirs. Don’t be a jerk.”

Ren nods, “Yes. You are absolutely correct.”

I nod and feel better. I was hoping that wouldn’t turn into an argument. I eat some of my strawberries and the sugar rush makes me kind of giddy. Until I forget where I am and take too big of a breath through my nose.

My synapses light up and I taste panic hot on my tongue. I’m already tearing up, moisture running down my cheeks. My makeup I worked so hard on is smudging. Fuck. I fumble in my purse for clean tissues but I come up empty. What the hell? I always bring a pack everywhere. Whatever. Lost cause.

I squeeze my fingers around my necklace to stop it from flopping but, “Hih-XSShh-ieh!” the sneeze rocks my neck, my shoulders. My chin yanks and my hand snaps the metal, the silver chain pooling around my wrist like a liquid snake.

“Fuck!” I snarl but I’m not done, “Adj’SK!!” I sneeze viciously into the hand holding the chain, feeling the tang of iron on my lips. This can not get any worse.

I throw myself to my feet, fingers steepled over my nose. Tears blur my vision as hitches flutter against my tongue, “Hhh-ieh! IEH!” My feet fly over the ground, carrying me so fast I stumble. At the same time I’m careening toward the ground, my lips sputter, “Hiex-SHIEEw- UGH!”

Strong hands wrap around my shoulders and pull me straight up to a standing position so that I’m no longer about to flatten my nose on the tile. I blink away allergic tears as Iris beams at me. She doesn’t seem put off by my splotched, wet face at all.

“You okay, sweetie?”

I mutter something unintelligible and then cough. “Uhm, kh, yes. I-I’m good. Thank you.”

“No problem, doll. Can I escort you to the bathroom?”

“Oh, no I can get there fine.”

“I’m on the way myself, but I’ll wait if you need privacy.”

My wrists wag left and right, “Oh, no it’s fine!” My people pleasing ass overrides the need to be alone. “We can both go.”

I let Iris lead the way into the restroom where she takes a stall and I use the mirror to clean up. When she comes out of the stall I'm blowing my nose and apologizing every time I sniffle.

“Ikka gets sick a lot--snot don’t bother me,” she says as she washes her hands.

I titter with her but there’s no way I can explain my special brand of embarrassment. So I take some soft purple tissues and blow my nose. But just when I get it clear, the fire reignites, sending me spilling back into the fluff.

“Ha-XSSH! Iee’TSHH-ieu! EiSHH!” I snort thickly, “Agh, whad the fugk?”

Iris rorars a laugh and swipes the napkins, “Yall must be allergic to lavender.”

“Uh,” I sniffle, “Yeah. W--” I point at the cloth, “Are those…”

“Lavender scented,” her eyes shimmer with amusement and I flame bright. “Man,” she chuckles, stuffing the soggy tissues in the trash hole, “They really had it out for you two didn’t they?”

I groan and flick on the faucet. “Seems so.”

“I can ask Ikka for unscented ones. He usually has some.”

I shake my head, “No-no, that’s okay, I…” I scrunch my nose and clamp my hands over my face. “I just need…a minute….”

Iris pops a shoulder, “Alright. Well, good luck.” She swaggers out of the bathroom, leaving me to my mess. I clean up as best I can and fix my makeup, spraying a setting liquid over it once I’m done.

It’s been quite a while and I turn to head back, but the drinks swirl in my head and I pause. My eyes land on the stack of lavender tissues.

I don’t think too hard about it, but I find myself stuffing a few into my purse before fleeing the scene.

When I get out of the restroom, I hear people calling “Toast! Toast!” and I see Ren standing up with a flute of sparkling water.

I risk a glance at him staring smugly at me as he crosses the room, a cocky grin on his face.. He lifts a finger in the air and tapped the side of his nose before holding up 4 fingers.

Oh. It’s fucking on.

I hurry to pass Ren him on my way to the table, digging in my bag.

“You’ll need these,” I don't meet his eyes as I stuff the tissues in his hand. I scurry away, shame leaving a hot trail behind me. I don't know why I did that--why did I do that?? I’m a godsdammed cheater, that’s why.

I sit and watch as innocently as i possibly can. Ren stands iron straight at the front of the room, but his expression is soft, eyes twinkling in the chandelier lights. He addresses everyone and gestures to the brides on either side of him.

“I met Kadie in college. We were good friends. She was always keeping me in line.”

A knowing chuckle hums across the room. An inside joke. Ren holds his arm toward, “Abigail let me crash on her couch for most of my young adult life.”

“Me and Leo,” she quips.

“Touche”. Ren lowers his voice for dramatic effect. “She had to kick me out quite often once she met Kadie.”

A ruckus of laughter at that. Abigail blushes but Kadie takes her hand, amused. Ren knows what he’s doing. Playing the crowd. Like a good DM. He begins the next phase of his speech but I can hear the hints of congestion stirring his words into a thicker drawl.

A few people have their bingo cards ready. I’d be lying if I wasn’t thinking about it. Ren pauses mid-word, breath ragged, fumbling in his pocket.

“Apologies,” he croaks, “It s-hhh…seems you shall--snf! Have a bingo point af--” he folds one of the tissues over his nose, “Hk’TZZHHH!”

“Ikka,” the woman at our table rasps, “Quit staring and mark it down!”

My brain pushes their convo aside. I watch Ren’s nose, his chin. Bobbing up and down with each hitch, inhale, sigh. Eyes lock onto him as if his hypnotic buildup has charmed the snakes of the show.

“Hnng…” the silence in the room is as solid as a truck. I can’t speak for anyone beyond my line of sight but my entire table is watching him intently. Seriously, why are they watching so hard? Do vanillas just--

“Wait,” Iris points from me to the bathroom tissues. “Did you--”

I slam back my glass of champagne, ignoring the question.

“XsST-hieu!! EGSX-EIU!” Ren siffles thickly and dabs his nose but that’s only making it worse.

Seven.

I lift up, ready to fly to his defense, but Ren crumples the tissue with a sorrowful sniffle and tucks the pack into his breast pocket to finish the speech.

“My apologies. Or, perhaps not?” Ren draws another laugh from the crowd.

Iris smacks the bingo sheet, “Focus, Icabod! We’re close to winning!”

Okay. I’m getting kind of sus here. Maybe I’m just in fet brain overdrive but I have to know. Ren finishes his speech and ambles toward us, flicking tears from his watery eyes and slumps into the chair with a groaning sigh.

“Ren,” I rasp when I’m safely close enough to him to prevent being heard from the others. “Hey!” I wrap my fingers around his tie and pull his neck down so I can speak with him. And wow this actually is hot. No wonder Skye does it so much. I wobble a little and ohhh gods I'm getting drunk.

I release him once he’s nice and close and whisper, “Rub your nose.”

He jerks back, “What?!”

I groan, rolling my head, “Not like that. It’s…it’s for science.”

Ren follows my gaze to Icabod and he hums, “Ah.” He tips his head down and sniffles. He brushes the underside of his nose, slow and deliberate. His eyes flutter and he lets out an exaggerated gasp.

“Igh!! Hiiegh…”

I stare open mouthed for way too long. Christ he’s good at this. I’m about to just let him attempt a fake before I remember there was a point to this.

I sneak a look at Icabod and… our expressions could have matched 100%. He might even be drooling. Not that I blame him. Rens still going, toying around with teasing hitches and soft gasps. Gods what must that be like in bed?

WHAT? I have clearly had too much champagne.

I sneak another look at Icabod to see him staring intently at his fork. And his eyes flick toward Ren. And back to the fork.

I am floored. The odds are insane. But I do know those two are friends of Skye. Or aquaintances. Maybe I’m not the only person she’s met online…

Two claps bring our attention to the floor and Ren stops his fake buildup in milliseconds with a soft breath and a quick nose swipe. The man should be an actor.

“Alright everyone, we’re having a freeze dance competition. Now, pick your partners, and dance! When we blow the whistle, you’re gonna freeze! Don’t. Move. Any movement, intentional or not, will disqualify you for the prize.”

“What’s the prize?” I ask.

Ren glides up next to me, knuckling his nose, “I do not think it will matter.”

I open my mouth to ask him why, but that’s a dumb question. His watery eyes and the buzzing of my own nostrils I’m desperately trying to ignore would destroy us both.

“Maybe it’s for the best we sit out. I can’t even dance.”

Ren looks astounded. “You cannot dance?”

“I…no. Not like…ballroom dancing.”

“Then,” he holds out a hand, “I shall teach you.”

I pause. Dancing is Skye and Ren’s thing. I feel like this would be an intrusion of their sacred custom. But Ren waggles his fingers as if groping for my hand. “Skye will not mind.”

How does he read me like that?

He takes me by the hand and pulls me immediately into a spin. I’ve seen him and Skye do this enough that I don’t stumble. I may not have participated before, but I’m far from a dance virgin.

We dance the intro of the song for a couple minutes, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. I feel so dashing in my sexy dress, tearing up the floor like this.

Ren cradles my back, hands strong and gentle as he dips me low. My head tilts back and I’m overwhelmed by the scratchy scent of lavender. A busboy passes by carrying another bouquet. I jacknife upright, palm flattening my lips and nose as two very not stealthy sneezes wrench my spine, “Hiex-SHEW! HAAh-TSHHieu!”

Ren lifts me and swirls us, dancing uninterrupted. I gulp air and glower, “That was cheating!”

“It is not cheating. I am within the boundaries of the rules we set.”

“We didn’t set any rules!”

Ren smirks knowingly. I honestly have no room to complain though. I cheated first.

“Freeze!” the voice rocks adrenaline into my veins and we both instinctively still. Ren’s hands are on the small of my back and propped on my hip; my arms are draped over his shoulders, one palm spread behind his neck.

It feels so intimate. And…I swallow, my body reacting to him already.

It’s about to get much more intimate.

His face is flushed so pink I’d think he was drunk. His teeth grind and he snarls a hitch. “Sasha,” his breath is hot and moist, barely audible but bold enough to send wracking shivers down my spine. “I am not…going to last…”

Oh gods. He did not just say that.

Abigail moves toward us. Fuck fuck! What are we going to do? Ren’s nose scrunching isn’t doing the trick, and if he sneezes on me, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.

His fingers tighten on my waist as he sucks in a breath, and I make a decision. My hand sweeps from his neck across his cheek, his skin hot as a brand, and my fingers close over his firm nostrils.

He exhales, relief shuddering through him, and I swear I absorb that shudder and feel it quaking my thighs.

I’m. Grabbing. Ren’s. Nose. I’m grabbing Ren’s nose! In public! What the fuck am I thinking??

I could tell myself that I just want to win--that’s all this is. But I’ve been lying to myself for too long. I don’t give a flying fuck if we win this game. I wanted to touch him. To feel his nostrils twitch under my grip, his breath bathe my wrist--oh gods. My body is a livewire. I’m worried I’m going to vibrate myself off the dance floor.

“Sasha,” he grunts, “you may release me.”

Electricity zings through my arm and I snatch my hand away as if burned.

Ren’s eyes glitter and his mouth curves, “That rather turned you on.”

“And I think that rather turns you on.” My bold comment comes out of nowhere.

The corner of his lip ticks up, “Of course.”

I didn’t think I could burn hotter but my blood feels ten times heavier.

Asshole. Is he just picking at me like friendly banter…or does he…want me?

This isn’t the first time we’ve flirted with each other. Over the course of all our friendships, the on-off-on-off of all fucking four of us…it’s godsdamn exhausting. And it’s wearing me down--physically and emotionally.

Ren looks at me with those concerned furrowed brows. I want him to say the same thing. The same thing I’m thinking, feeling. I…I want…

A clap brings us out of the sexual deviancy of the moment and Abigail calls, “That’s a wrap!”

Abby glides toward us and squees. “You two were precious!” she trills.

“Did we--”

“You didn't win,” she frowns.

“Erm, no, I know. But,” I fidget, coiling and uncoiling my fingers. “Did we embarrass ourselves?”

Abby chuckles. “Not at all. The other competitors were thrilled--” Abby poked Ren’s nose affectionately making his nostrils flare a bright pink. Why did that make me jealous?

Ren steps forward, leading Abby as she chats about ….

“Please just do this one thing for me, please!”

“W-what thing?”

“The entire guest list has been taking photo booth pics so we can scrapbook it all vintage like. Will yall participate?” Abby begs.

Ren’s lips twist. “Alright. Of course. For you.”

With a squeal from Abby, we are ushered into a long hall, wider than average. It’s filled with nostalgic photos of celebrities like Elvis, The Beatles…is that Shirley Temple?? Did they even have photo booths back then? Oh gods, this whole fucking hallway is a beacon for how bad I am at history.

In a misshapen nook sits a photo booth. A fancy one--it has a door and everything. Wow. Kadie went all out with this reception. I’m assuming she wanted to wow her guests to make up for having to univite them to the actual ceremony in 2020.

With some nudging, Abigail watches us climb in and shoots me a thumbs up. “I gotta go kiss ass to my mother in law but it’s pretty self explanatory. Take some funny ones! I’m making a scrapbook!”

Ren is already inside and when I climb in, I find it more spacious than I expected, but not enough for us to sit side-by-side. I may have a smaller waist, but Ren has bulk in his thighs and shoulders that just won’t work.

“Well,” I say, “I guess I’ll sit on your leg, if that’s ok.”

Ren nods and shifts so I can perch near his knee, pulling my dress down in a habitual need to unbunch my clothes. I slide over his leg and catch myself when his fingers curl around my hips to steady me.

“Is this alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I resume shifting. We look at the screen in front of us and I squint, searching for the switch to activate it. “Where…” we start fussing around, both seeking the mechanism but coming up empty.

I groan, “Why is something so vintage so hard for us to figure out?” I feel the edge of anger on my tongue, “It’s so different from every phone booth I’ve used.”

“As opposed to the many phone booths you’ve been in?”

“I was young once, Ren. In the 90s. So, yes.”

“Hm,” he chuckles. “Were they…” the word drops, thickening with dull congestion that makes my spine straighten like a steel rod. I jerk to the side, putting the shadows of his jawline in my peripheral.

“Are you…” I swallow a desert in my mouth.

He rubs a lip under his teeth, “Would it be better for me to say yes, or no?”

“What does that mean?”

“It m-means…” his words begin to stumble, “If denying I am not hhh--” his long fingers climb to his face, sawing languidly under his nose.

“Worse.”

“Then, my nose itches and I hhh--believe I might--hh-igh…sneeze.”

I flush hot and oh, I was wrong. That phrase was so much worse. Better. Augh I am absolutely incapable of untangling the mess of emotions flooding me like a rainstorm. I feel myself squirm, the photo switch forgotten in lieu of, “Ren…”

I feel his hand on my hip tightening--exactly the same way it did on the dance floor. Oh gods…if there was any doubt, it’s gone: flung out the window.

He’s going to sneeze. I’m on his lap. Fuuuuuck.

“Ren,” I feel my throat grate against his name, “I should go, I--”

“I will be fine,” he sniffles and his head does a small shake that makes my spine melt. His voice is honey, “It’ll pass.”

A contraction. He’s really fucking trying.

“Uhh, I don’t think it will,” I say flatly.

“I can…handle it. Trust me.”

“Trust me,” I wiggle to stand but my knees tangle and I end up slipping back, falling into him. His hands wind around my middle, one thumb skimming the slit decorating my hip.

“Ah-apologies, I--”

I should try to get up again. I know I should. But his grip is firm, steady, as if I’m his anchor in a storm. I hear him sniffle right in my ear and gods I shiver from head to toe. It makes my shoulders wring, my stomach thrum, and my thighs…

I hear him gasp and feel his hips rock forward. He lets out a small moan and I realize I’ve squirmed myself to the ridges of his lap. And Oh. Fuck, this fabric must be so thin because I can feel exactly how my arousal is affecting him.

“Hh-ieh--” He squeezes my body so hard a small gasp flees my throat.

“Mmmmhh--!” there is no way the sounds I’m making are even remotely adjacent to ‘stop doing that please’. My body is in camp sneeze right now.

“Hhh-ngh, Sahh…” His breaths come in grinding gasps and I’m not sure anymore if it’s from holding back the sneeze or my ass rubbing against his cock.

I’m too hot for this. I’m too horny for this. The unbelievable tension and teasing of the night all crashes into me in frantic, thought-erasing need.

I can’t remember why this is a bad idea. I can’t remember that we’re in a public fucking place, in the middle of a wedding reception and it’s Not A Good Time. My panties are slick and wet, and I do more than wiggle--I writhe. Noises escape me in high pitches half breaths, matching his liquid gasps escaping his tilted mouth.

“Hhh-iehh--HEh!”

I could stop this. I could get up. I could launch myself out of this photo booth as if I were a champagne cork and Ren wouldn’t stop me. But I don’t want to stop.

My back arches when I feel his head dip far enough for his nose to feather the skin of my neck. Oh fuck ohfuckohfuck-- My senses narrow to that spot, everything dulling around me as his lips pop apart, still buried in my neck, and--

“HGX-SHHZ!”

Pleasure explodes inside of me. My body bucks and I ride him, rubbing myself back and forth over his trapped cock in a rocking motion.

“Hieh--”

“Oh fucking gods!”

“HY-ESHHUUU!”

My orgasm unleashes, wracking my body, lighting every nerve inside me, pulling closed-lipped moans from my throat. “Mmmnn-gods fuck MMMNnnn!” My hands are clawing and scrunching any fabric they can get at--from the folds of my dress to Ren’s taut pants. He moans against me and I hear him swear, “F--uck…”

My body collapses against him and I suck in air, my chest pulsing in time with my labia. He’s still hard against me, fingers delicate but firm as he sniffles thick and wet.

“S-Sasha,” he grunts, “I…”

“Oh my gods.” My heartbeat turns from pounding to racing.

We just dry humped in a wedding photo booth!

My hands slap my face. “What the fuck am I doing?” Gods, I must be so--

“Sasha,” Ren’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “If you permit me to leave first--”

“No,” I say quickly, tugging my bra strap back in place and smoothing my wrinkled bandana. “Anyone who overheard just heard me m-moaning and…you, uhh…”

“Sneezing?”

“Y-yeah. But that could have been me, and…”

Ren concedes, though he doesn’t look convinced. “As you wish.”

I don’t need him to believe me, I just need to get out of here. Now.

Hoping my makeup made it out unscathed, I crawl out, opening the door--thank gods there’s a door--and sliding out, eyes darting around to see if anyone is nearby.

“Hey there.”

I freeze, my entire body jolting with panicked adrenaline. I turn to see Kadie staring at me, arms folded over her wide bosom, lips askew. Sparks in her sage eyes.

I flap my hands nervously, “I was just--”

“I know what you were doing.” Her voice is firm but there’s a hint of a roguish gleam.

My blood ices. “No, you don’t understand.”

She silences me with an upturned palm. “You do know I dated Skye, right?”

My jaw unhinges. Of course. Of fucking course she knows. She could probably see it all over my face all godsdamn day.

My hands close over my face, “Oh my fuck,” I muffle.

Kadie sighs, a heaving breath, “Look, I really don’t give two shits what you did in there. But I’d better not have to clean anything up.” At my alarm, she pressed the air with her hand, “Chill. No one else knows, or heard you. Just me.” She hands me a slim rectangle of paper. “Maybe watch the switch next time. You’re lucky I was here.”

She whirls and leaves me clutching three stacked images--muted and gray but there’s no doubting what’s going on in there. If I focus, I can see my O-face. IeeHHGGG.

I crumple the pictures as Ren climbs out, brushing wrinkles from his suit. “What happened?” he asks.

I look at him, “Kadie heard us. And…saw…” I crunch the photos again for good measure.

“I see.” Ren rakes a forked hand through his hair and it flops back over his brow with enviable ease. “Perhaps then, it is an opportune time to--”

“Bail?” I snort, “Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“Yes. Bail.”

My chin juts up at him in confusion.

We make it out without being noticed. Ren even finds us a bathroom on the other end of the building to freshen up. I make sure to slather myself in deodorant. Everywhere. Yes, even my stomach and thighs. My underwear didn’t make it out unscathed. I pull my track pants out of my bag and go commando.

I have a tube top as well and I trade it for the dress. Now I look like I’m about to go to yoga but at least I don’t look like I just snzfucked a guy in a photo booth.

In the hall, Ren is still wearing his suit. “You didn’t bring extra clothes?”

He pats his vest in various places as if to say and where would I put them?

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I’m ready to get--HXST-Ieh! Out of here.” I grind my palm over my nose, furious it hasn’t finished with me yet.

Ren opens his palm and offers it to me. “As you wish. However, I have one more stop to make.”

We hurry toward the exit, not encountering any obstacles before we burst out into the windy air like a prison break. Ren and I lock eyes and let out twin snorts.

“I’m impressed you kept your erection during that whole fit,” I giggle.

“Years with Skye has tempered me. At this point I find myself sporting a partial even when I start to…”

Oh fuck that’s hot.

I drink in the crisp air, hoping it’ll cool me off. I breathe deep and we head toward the car.

We’re still sniffly on the drive. Allergy aftermath can last hours if you marinate long enough. Ren drives us to a strip center just downtown. He parks at a meter right outside, “A book store?” I drink in the cottagecore awning and the chalkboard sign announcing an author signing.

An author I know.

Anita Maez?!

Ren looks at me, smiling. Not smirking. Not grinning. Just…smiling.

“Your ticket is anonymous,” he says, “If you do not wish to enter, no one will know you withdrew.”

My eyes are wide and I feel my heart set up camp in my throat. “Ren…” I swallow through the thickness. He remembered my favorite fucking author and made a point to buy me a ticket to meet her??

He hands me the ticket and I take it, unable to tear my eyes away from it. I virtually stumble toward the building, only pausing to look at Ren to make sure he’s really okay with this. He nods and waits outside to give me privacy.

In line, I can’t stop thinking about Ren. The lengths he went for me today. For me. My brain is a bonfire. It’s becoming very hard to not look for meaning in tonight. Ren, making up a game for us so I don’t freak out sneezing in public. Making sure I was comfortable the whole time with all of the weird conversations. How utterly safe I felt in that booth with him. I’ve only felt that safe with Skye and Leo.

And now this.

Is he doing these things for me because we’re friends? Or is this just Ren being…Ren? I realize I don’t know, really. I know him as a friend. As Skye’s lover. As Leo’s primary. But I can’t tell if he wants us to be closer or if he just does this kind of thing.

I send a quick text to Skye, but then it’s my turn for the meet and greet, and I shove all those thoughts aside to meet my hero.

Ren isn’t outside the shop when I exit but I peg his location instantly. He’s down the sidewalk near a corner, sneezing his head off.

I start counting, unable to help myself from lining my footsteps with each sneeze. He stops, finally, and sniffles, patting his nostrils with a purple tissue--oh. Those tissues.

I rush over and snatch it from him, earning me a bewildered look between sniffles. “What--”

“Those are lavender scented,” I flush at his expression. “They’re…causing more problems than solving.”

Ren chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, that does explain quite a lot.”

I pop my hip and place a hand on it, “So, what are we at?” I tease. “After your whole,” I fan my fingers around his face.

“Mmm. Seven. But as we are not specifically at the venue, they do not count.”

“Um, they absolutely count, Grayson. We didn’t set any rules, remember?”

He has the gall to look defeated right before he tips his head in a bow. “Very well. The final count is?”

“Me with 13, you with,” I grin smarmily, “16.”

“Hm,” he hums. “Would it be a stretch to say your author signing is your prize?”

“Fuck no. First, you had that planned before the game started. Second, I didn’t ask for it, third…” I stop ticking my fingers when I see the mischievous look on his face. The streetlamps have caught his eyes so they look like they’re dancing. And he’s somehow maneuvered his arm above his head, propping himself into one of those ‘hot boy’ movie leans the lead love interest always does.

I bite back a snort. Is he flirting? Is he doing the sexy man pose on purpose?

“What, Sasha, would you like your prize to be?”

I want to laugh and cry and tell him he looks silly and obvious. That he’s not as sexy as he thinks he is. Even if it’s a godsdamn lie. He would have won if I hadn’t counted what happened outside here--another result of my cheating our game. And he still let me pick the prize.

And what do I even want?

You.

The thought comes unbidden. Immediate. I want him. I want him the same way I want Skye and Leo. I want to throw our dynamic into the trash and just…be together. All of us. A true collective polycule.

I can’t tell if he heard me, but it’s obvious he knows what I’m thinking. My throat bobs. Fear grips my heart tight. What if what if what if-

Ren is closing the distance between us and I can feel the pull of his heat. My body is like a magnet, my thighs ablaze trying not to just crush him with my--

Down girl. You already went on that ride.

He’s over me now, his lips bowed and crimped.

“What,” he rasps, the heat of his tone melting my resolve, “would you like, Sasha?”

Fuck it. Fuck all of it. I grab his tie and pull his face down toward me. His upper body jerks forward and he careens down--gods, no wonder Skye does this so much--and I kiss him. His lips are soft and strong and completely devastating me.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve technically kissed him before. This is our first kiss. An earth-shattering, lava-forming, creating new continents kiss.

He lets me lead him, his tongue flicking my lower lip, asking permission, and I invite him in.

Vaguely aware of his hand on my waist, fingers wrapping and scrunching my shirt.

He lets out a small moan into my throat and all rational thought vanishes.

Fuck. I love him. I love them all. Skye, Leo, Ren. And it hardens my bones, softens my heart, steels my mind.

This is how it was meant to be.

160 miles away

Backstage, the music is muffled. Skye and Leo are standing awkwardly, Skye shifting from left to right, eyes wide and focused on the yellowing floor beneath them.

Leo’s lips drop and his heart pounds. “Are you…okay?”

Skye gives a half hearted nod as she pulls out her phone and reads the screen, illuminating the pink of her cheeks.

Leo looks up, toward the flashing lights ahead where the roar of the crowd coats the night. “I hope Ren and Sasha are having more fun than we are.”

Another nod, Skye’s chin jerking down. Leo hears a small hiccup disguised as a sigh. She pockets her phone and looks at him, something lighting her eyes in a way that makes him uneasy.

“You ready for this?” she asks.

Someone screams ahead and both of their heads whip toward it. Skye’s hand closes around Leo’s, squeezing.

“I think that’s our cue.”

To be continued…

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murmel-malt · 6 months

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"Should you indeed force me to wed, I am afraid you will rather quickly find yourself the father of a widow."

Lady Lorra Lynderly, the Viper of the Valley

#my art #oc: lorra lynderly #house of the dragon #fire and blood #asoiaf #house lynderly #fyeahhotdocs #a self-indulgent doodle of rowan's bff and the Vale's no1 mean girl #the fourth daughter / 7th child of Lord Lynderly of Snakewood #second son energy cranked up to 11 #rowan and her bond over their shitty dads and alliterative names #fic: a blade that never stops cutting

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lamiaceae-doodles · 1 year

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i just think he has potential to be a good dad

in other words, the baby fever got to me and i plead guilty

#arven #arven pokemon #trainer arven #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon arven #arven x oc #<- technically x oc ? i don't know i guess that tag counts since. well. implied oc mothered but it doesn't have to i jus ajsdkfjsafjkl #lami's doodles #lami's self indulgence #REALLY leaning into the self-indulgence i rly did this to myself #fighting my demons (read: my baby fever)#inspired by. my own fantasies and all the lovely headcanons and fics i have read... i have not felt peace in MONTHS #god can't find me here in the midst of my tumblr tags

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aceghosts · 2 months

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Baby, All I Want Is You

Summary:

“You have that look again.” “What look?” He asks, shooting them a charming smile. “The one where you’re planning something.”

A short scene where Rooney and Yorinobu flirt with each other. Title comes from nightlife's nightlifetypebeat.

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive flirting between two exes who have it bad for each other. That's it.

Words: 1,377 words.

Author's Note: I'm gonna keep it real with everybody; this was just a self-indulgent excuse to write Rooney and Yorinobu flirting with each other. Also, this was inspired by this tumblr post.

Taglist (opt in/out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @captmactavish, @carlosoliveiraa, @nightbloodbix, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @clicheantagonist, @strangefable, @theelderhazelnut, @voidika, @cassietrn, @cloudofbutterflies92, @direwombat

AO3

“How do I look?” Yorinobu asks, stepping out of the bathroom and into the main area of the penthouse suite. While a genuine question, he could not resist the desire to show off to Rooney, to have their focus solely on him. He turns toward them, Rooney leaning against the wall nearest the bathroom door. They push off the wall, facing him as they put their hands on their hips. Rooney tilts their head, brows furrowed with an inquisitive look in their eyes as they look him over. Most would assume Rooney’s permanent frown meant they detested his outfit. Yorinobu knows them too well to believe that; he delights in reading them better than anyone else. (His favorite expression is when Rooney smiles softly, happiness reaching their eyes, a look typically reserved for him.) Yorinobu teases with a slightly cocky tone, “If you are too horrified to answer, perhaps I should-.”

“Your collar,” Their hands leave their hips as they walk over to him, “I’ll fix it for you.”

He nods, Rooney’s hands coming up to his lavender shirt collar to fix it. As they focus, Yorinobu studies their face carefully. Rooney’s dark blue eyes the same color as the ocean on a bright sunny day or a stormy night, depending on their mood. Their freckles dappled across their face like stars shining brightly in the night sky. The scars on their forehead and nose, earned from hard-won battles, defiant till the end. Their pale pink lips set in a thin line, close enough for him to kiss. Rooney’s hands move to his suit jacket collar, their touch faint through the dark maroon fabric. Giving him a curious look, Rooney states suspiciously, “You have that look again.” “What look?” He asks, shooting them a charming smile.

“The one where you’re planning something.”

“I might be planning something,” Yorinobu shrugs, as Rooney’s hands move down to the lapel of his jacket. He shivers underneath their touch, relishing in it. With a heavy sigh, Yorinobu starts, “It is such a shame I am going to this party alone. I wish I had-.”

“No,” Rooney replies, a response that would sound curt and brutal to most. Only Yorinobu notices the way the corners of their mouth twitch upward, the playfulness in their eyes.

“I did not ask you to accompany me, and yet, you turn me down?” Yorinobu places his hands on their waist.

“Then ask.”

“Rooney Shepard,” Yorinobu starts, deeply serious, “Would you accompany me as my date to this party?”

“Hmm…,” They start, tilting their head for a second as they pretend to think before answering with a smirk, “No.”

“No?”

“You know how much I hate those parties. You’re the only reason I ever tolerated going.” True. Rooney always hated them, sucking it up for Yorinobu when they were dating. He also knew that Rooney looked forward to the night being over, especially when they got Yorinobu all to themself. “I’m also not dressed for the event. I doubt private investigator chic meets the dress code,” Rooney adds, finishing fixing his jacket lapels.

“I think you look gorgeous in ‘private investigator chic’,” Their hands rest on his chest as Yorinobu leans in closer, “especially when you wear leather like you are now.” The tight leather pants made their legs look so long and their ass look fantastic. There was only one place better he could think that those pants belonged, besides on Rooney.

Rooney rolls their eyes, a faint red on their cheeks. “Yorinobu, no one will approve of clothes that I’ve had blood cleaned out of, and you only approve because you think I look hot.” “Their loss.”

Rooney lets out a genuine laugh, a delightful sound. Sidestepping his comment, they reply, “To answer your original question, you look very handsome.”

“Handsome?” In a perfect world, Rooney would tell him he is handsome all the time, but alas, Yorinobu will take it where he can. “You’ve always looked great in that shade of maroon, and,” They brush off his shoulders, eyes looking over his chest and arms, “That jacket fits you really well. Really, really well.” Apparently, Yorinobu is not the only one who has been looking, and it thrills him. “I’m sure all eyes will be on you.”

“What if I do not care for their eyes on me? What if I want you to look at me? What if I think you are the only one who matters?” A loaded question that he knows Rooney will attempt to sidestep.

“Yori.” Their nickname for him slips out, another sign that his feelings are not one-sided, no matter how much Rooney might try to deny it. “You don’t need me to flatter your ego. I’m sure you’ll get enough of that tonight.” They pull away from him, slipping out of his grasp once again. “You should get going. Want me to walk you to the AV?”

He nods, noticing the soft, adoring look they give him. “I would appreciate it. May I help you with your coat?”

“Yes, please.” He picks up the dark blue and black coat, the one they were so fond of wearing. Yorinobu helps them into the jacket, allowing Rooney to get fully settled. “You should come with me,” He says, leaning in close, “No one will even think about admonishing you for the dress code if you are by my side. Or we could stop somewhere for you to get appropriate formal wear. I could even help you pick your outfit out.”

Rooney shivers, a contented hum escaping from their lips. “Answer is still no,” they pull away, holding out their arm for him to take, “Come on, Yori. Let’s get you to that party.”

He takes their arm, Rooney by his side feeling so natural and right. As the pair head up the stairs, Yorinobu asks, “What would it take for you to say yes? If you asked, I would make it so.” “Yori, you know I don’t want anything from you. Just getting to be in your company is enough.” Some things never change. Rooney was still sentimental, content to be in his space and spend quality time with him. “I guess you could get me to come for work, but-,” Rooney gives him a knowing look, “I can’t go with you tonight for work.”

“Why not?”

“Promised Reggie, one of the local fixers in Watson, that I would do a stakeout for her. And, I like Reggie. She’s a good person, a little paranoid.”

“One might say that about you.” They roll their eyes in amusement, this time. The doors to the AV pad slide open, Rooney stepping through the doorway with him, “I will have to ask you to go with me as a work obligation next time.”

“Or,” Rooney stresses, accompanying him up the stairs, “You could ask me as a friend. I might be your ex, but I’m still your friend.”

“Friends.” Yorinobu can work with that. He would prefer the title of ‘partner’ or ‘lover’, but being their friend is better than being their ex.

Rooney nods as the duo step onto the AV pad. One of his assistants comes up to him, Aria, holopad in hand. “Yorinobu-sama, Shepard,” she greets them both, “We need to leave.”

“One moment, please,” He replies, dismissing her. Turning to Rooney, he opens his mouth to speak.

“I’ll see you later,” They say, giving him an encouraging smile, “Don’t worry. You’ve got this.” Their smile morphs into a devious smirk, sending a shiver of pleasure through him. Leaning in close, Rooney teases, only loud enough for him to hear, “And if I was your date, I don’t think we would make it to the party.” He sees a hungry look in their eyes, their need for him just as strong as his for them.

Fuck the party. Fuck their stakeout. He is staying here with them and-. “Enjoy your party,” They purr, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Yorinobu reaches out for their wrists, attempting to pull them back in. Rooney masterfully sidesteps him, winking at him. They turn their back to Yorinobu, walking away before he can get another chance.

Yorinobu swallows, a lump in his throat. Oh, this was going to be a long night.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cp2077 fanfic #yorinobu arasaka x OC #otp: it always comes right back to you #commander rooney shepard #I won't let fear compromise who I am #kate writes #the rooney fic tag #v: cyberpunk 2077 #this is very self indulgent #but I have a lot of fun writing for these two #and I'm definitely rotating the idea of a smutty sequel to this #maybe i'll need to reblog some prompt lists for that

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