#sorry I simply cannot make these that often lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wincore · 3 months

Text

indelicate | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x fem!reader

synopsis: missing the last train out of new shanghai was not on the to-do list. however, your project partner liu yangyang promises fun, dazzling lights, and the warmth of a human connection for this festive weekend. perhaps even in the era of diamond and steel, the human touch means something after all.

genre: oriental cyberpunk, f2l, fluff

warning(s): swearing & several innuendos. also out-of-date jokes sorry guys i wrote this in 2021

words: 11.9k

a/n: this is just a rework of an old fic i posted here with another character! if you find any inconsistencies, it's probably because of that LOL also this is not a wincore revival but i did miss everyone on here !!

i. city plaza

Some idiot, somewhere along in history, decided to renovate a city into something so dazzling that the population shoots up to a hundred and fifty percent of what was before, and the rest of the damage comes along with the people. Promises are made and broken to build this city of extravagance. You have the belief that the more people there are in one place, the more difficult it gets to live there. This dazzling hellscape means colliding into too many people on the streets, too many bright lights outside your dorm room when you’re trying to sleep and the god awful sound of deafening firecrackers at every new year celebration.

Another idiot somehow roped you into his ‘midnight adventure: traditional version’ once he heard you missed the last train ticket out of the city. Liu Yangyang has a terrible way with words—but he has a way.

You were, by some unfortunate gamble of the gods, partners for a project that accounted for sixty percent of the grade. While that affair is over, you still haven't rid yourself of the predicament that is Yangyang. Gorgeous, yes, but too overwhelming. You smack your head against the car window only for him to jump in his seat beside you, hand gently driving over your forehead to check for damage. The neon city lays around you, and festive light projections float across the sky in intricate shapes of the ox and written messages. This is going nowhere. You came to this city sacrificing everything and yet suddenly, everything’s hanging on a string again.

The city lights of New Shanghai are cruel. Everything in this place is cruel.

Which is exactly why you’re in Yangyang’s car, parked by the middle level city plaza on New Year’s Eve. It is, in fact, illegal to hover by the city plaza on New Year’s Eve but Yangyang seems to either not care or simply doesn’t know. You forget the law doesn’t exist for rich kids. Out of all man-made wonders, rules are the most interesting.

“Shall we go?” he asks, voice bubbly as ever. Every morning, he chirps like the alarm birds outside your window. Yes, it has made you want to sleep forever at times.

“It’s just one night. And I’ll be with you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you snap.

“Not afraid of the dark either?”

You pull your jacket closer to you. Here, the cold streets of the techno-jungle make you shiver more often than not. If you dare go out without friends, a city so grand will inevitably drain the life out of you. Your body alone cannot withstand the dazzle. And—you can’t be afraid of the dark after you’ve complained about the lights.

You look at Yangyang and back to the cityscape outside—large conglomerative blocks of buildings, some hosting advertisements with the faces of inhumanly beautiful models and some with the ‘Happy New Year!’ text animation floating about in increasingly complex patterns. You see the revolving top of one of the grandest skyscrapers, a Dior hotel, not the tallest but certainly the most pleasing to look at. It gleams from red to orange like the pulsating heart of a giant metropolitan beast. There are more funky buildings to look at, some not even the shape of austere corporate skyscrapers.

“Do you wanna go there?” Yangyang asks all of a sudden. “I heard the lounge is closed off from eleven. I can call some friends and we can book a room though—”

“No. No way. I’m not going to spend new year’s eve in a Dior suite.”

He grins. “Thank god. It’s so boring there. Only models and businessmen and whatever freak shit they do.”

You sigh. Liu Yangyang is a whole story in itself. He’s rich and popular—a dream of many—but so few are as welcoming as he is. When you’re in that position, you’re bound to have a little metal seep into your heart. Some hidden part of you, however, tells you to loosen up when you’re with him; just let it go and have a good time. There’s no reason why you shouldn't. The economy is on a steep incline, the people are happy and no other city compares to this place. You could learn a thing or two from Yangyang.

He looks at you questioningly, eyes waiting and the curve of his lips still. You notice his platinum blond hair is more styled than usual, you can almost smell the gel on it, and for a moment, you wish you looked as good as he does. A dark leather jacket accentuates his shoulders, the plain T-shirt underneath not of the flashy type. He looks like he’s ready for club-hopping and you, anything but. If you knew earlier that you’d be by the Strip around midnight on New Year’s, you'd have dressed better.

“If you stay any longer in my car, people are going to assume we’re…y’know,” he states, quirking his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, though. Like, who thought fu—”

You were wrong. There is absolutely nothing to learn from Liu Yangyang.

“I would get out of this car immediately and fall to my death before I let that happen,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“No, hey. What an inauspicious sentence. Besides, and I’m not bragging but you should know I’m really good at using my assets—”

“Don’t say a word.”

The heat of embarrassment flows into your cheeks at his implication. You look out the window, weighing out the pros and cons. The scenery is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look outside. It’s not midnight yet but the main streets are already getting crowded for the processions; the sound of laughter and conversation ring in the air. It makes you somewhat sad to not be home for this. But as they say, living in a big city can only be done if you sell your soul to it.

You’re directly above the level one city plaza, the people below looking unsettling in the way they’re so small and far away—they don’t even seem human at this distance. You wonder if you look like that to the people above this, to the level three elites who sit on top of the whole city..

You look back to your companion, who’s transfixed on the bakery across the road—either that, or just really, really zoned out. Knowing Yangyang, it could be either. When you tilt your head, waiting, you find that he has pretty features—a shaped nose and round, curious eyes, all in perfect alignment with plump, pink lips. His metallic ring earrings shine when the light hits them right. No wonder you get girls asking how close the two of you are often. Even in a world pushing manufactured love, boys like him make others daydream. You wonder why you’re the one he loves to drag in with him.

Yangyang flinches when he finds you staring at him. You clear your throat, looking away and hoping you can sweep this under the rug.

“Are you- are you by any chance mad at me?” he asks, a nervous smile awkwardly tugging at his lips.

“I- what? No. I’m not mad at you.”

“You look like my mother when I don’t clean my room. Or Ten's cats when I try to kiss them.”

A tiny laugh escapes you before you get back your poised demeanor. “I’m- I’m not mad at you.”

He smiles at you wordlessly and you feel a little conscious. You glance outside when the plaza music starts to get loud and look back at him, debating whether you should just give in.

“So… you’ll let me brighten your life now?” he asks in his regular baritone, grinning wider. “The semester’s over and it’s festival time! I bring good luck, I promise.”

Liu Yangyang is not a happy serendipity. He simply cannot be. However, he does make you laugh more often than you’d admit.

“Whatever. Go ahead. I just don’t want to be hungover on a Friday.”

“You don’t- you don’t have to drink to have a good time.” He laughs. “I would know. I’m sort of a lightweight. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m supposed to be cool.”

You giggle, taking a moment to think.

“Fine then. Show me your magical access key to our beloved Mobius Strip, the mightiest, grandest structure in all of New Shanghai.”

“Well, if you put it that way… I am pretty cool, huh?”

His smile is too harmless for you to roll your eyes. He’s too gentle, you realize all of sudden, to be as awful as all the uni frat boys you’ve had the misfortune of talking to. You watch him as he drives; his arm moves with ease and he tries to make conversation but you can only hum and respond in singular words. The closer you are to the Strip the more nervous you get. It’s like visiting all those dark places that your mother explicitly warned you not to visit as a teenager—but you’re an adult now. No one owns you. No one should be able to own you. The determination builds up slowly over neon lights and hazy street shops.

Nights here are the fun part. Everyone says that. Other than the fact that you can barely make out the colour of the sky under the vivid city lights, there’s something very enticing about the streets, the upper streets that wind around the city.

Yangyang drives the car to a level three street, the behemoth structure of the Strip now so close that all you can see beyond your window are its placid, white walls stretching out to infinity. You can see little gardens and shops, peeking out from between each strip and one of the shopkeepers wave at you the moment you pass. Yangyang says something along the lines of “thanks for the free noodles” to the woman, before gliding higher.

“Grandma makes the best glass noodles here,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll take you sometime. If you like.”

You hum, noting the joy he expresses at the idea of something so simple.

Level three streets are already thousand and a half feet above the ground. You try not to look down; heights aren’t something you’re very fond of even if you love the sky. You note construction work for street levels four and five, shivering at the idea. The winds of change are fucking cold.

Yangyang swerves the car off-road at one point and you clutch his arm by reflex.

“What the fuck? Don’t do that without warning me,” you say, breathing quicker. You do not do well with: sudden movement, jumpscares and boys with pretty smiles.

“Sorry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You let go of his arm, more embarrassed at yourself than mad at him. Driving the car closer to the Strip, he brakes carefully by the parking lot. The walls are covered in red wallpaper, a few lanterns attached to drones, floating along the path inside. It looks like a rooftop parking lot, though the mysterious dim lighting makes you walk closer to Yangyang.

“I heard this is gonna be a really cool event—they’ve got the latest AI tech hosting and crap but let me tell you the best part.”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

“The food!” He says, spreading his arms and grinning. “The food at private events is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”

You open your mouth but close it again in part horror, part confusion. “You’re… taking me to a private event?”

“Ah, don’t look like that. It’s really fun, promise.”

“I’m not even dressed for it,” you blurt, embarrassed.

Yangyang shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s for rich kids, you know? If I’m being honest, none of them know how to dress.”

His confident statement gets a giggle out of you and you relax a little. You walk with him, further into the square platform and away from the cars. The sky disappears behind the dark roof and for a moment, you feel like you’ve entered a different dimension. It’s like the architecture models that your professors had on display for the Shanghai History class in your freshman year. Old stuff, that is. Before this place even had the first skyscraper.

You turn to your side and narrow your eyes at Yangyang, suddenly wondering how he finagled his way into bringing you here. Your iron-clad will is not so much iron after all. It’s not even steel, you think, once you catch yourself staring at Yangyang a bit too long.

You step forward to find the entrance to the club; it’s a little lonely to look at in the beginning. Then it clicks that it’s probably the back door. The red pillars encase a black door between them, the overhang of the gateway just a little above Yangyang’s head. You can see the hip-and-gable style roof of the larger building behind, looking like a skyscraper instead of the usual historical buildings you’ve seen on the internet. In glowing red letters, it displays a blinking ‘Club 2’ near the top of the door.

The moment you step on the stairs, a bunch of advertisements pop up on the door, bright bubblegum colours hurting your eyes. Yangyang taps at the little x at the corner of the display till it disappears and finally the door is a regular door. The colour is jet black like any other screening platform.

“I thought the rich were exempted from ads,” you say.

“They’re… more likely to buy things though.”

You make an ‘ah’ sound in contemplation when a whirring makes you jump into him. A little spherical drone flies its way out of an opening in the wall and stops right in front of the two of you.

“Sicheng-ge!” Yangyang says, waving frantically at the camera.

The little drone circles around Yangyang’s head before stopping right in front of his face. It runs a scan before turning sharply and beeping at you.

“My plus one!” Yangyang declares, pulling you by the waist. “Or whatever it’s called.”

Your ears feel warm but you don’t push him off. The camera focuses on your face, likely scanning to identify your age and occupation. When it’s done, a beep resounds and the door slides open to reveal a dimly lit pathway. The main entrance is much brighter, Yangyang promises, but for now it’s just the warm glow of the lanterns, Yangyang’s neon red striped jacket and the mechanical whirring of some sort of device in the darkness.

“What’s that sound?” you whisper and Yangyang stops.

He pauses to think. “Oh, they’re Sicheng-ge’s drones. He’s got like a million of them. I'll introduce you—he’s hosting this club event, by the way.”

He smiles at you reassuringly. If Yangyang’s not bothered by it, you’ll follow his lead. Though, you do take more nimble steps and stay close to him like he’s your lighthouse. (In a way, he is, with all that neon shining on his jacket.)

You’re surprised to find a garden, but then it gets stranger when you see brighter lanterns in the middle area. You see figures and before you can react, Yangyang takes your hand and into the central platform.

ii. orchid club square

Yangyang was right. None of them know how to dress.

The two of you stand in the middle of a crowd, who are in fact dressed either for: a) an impromptu pool party or b) a Sunday morning lecture. You blend in somewhat well given the variety though Yangyang’s painted looks have attracted the attention of quite a few giggling, murmuring onlookers.

You clench your jaw in mild annoyance.

“This is a tour,” Yangyang whispers to you. “I thought… you’d like to know what everything’s about.”

You feel grateful to him for once. Having some sort of knowledge about what you’re getting into makes you feel better about any situation. A set of mechanical clicking fills the air.

A woman—no, an AI bot is the first to greet you. She has pale white metallic skin and her dark strands of hair are in a traditional updo. Her lips are imperial red, shaped in a way that makes her seem as though she’s smiling but also not at the very same time. She holds an extravagant fan by her face at the perfect right angle, the patterns on it painted to imitate an ancient cherry blossom tree.

“Good evening, everyone,” she says, her voice pitched up and enthusiastic. It’s a little funny to imagine metal so lively.

You smell oranges and lavender as soon as she flicks her fan once and precise.

“Welcome to the New Shanghai nightlife!” The bot continues jovially. “The oldest surviving city on planet earth, the birthplace of the human race.”

“You are in virtual space,” she informs. “It might look like a courtyard stretching to infinity but it is only an illusion. However, the club is five hundred and sixty one metres wide and six hundred and twelve metres long. It is large enough to hold twenty-one blue whales in a line. That is, if they still existed of course.”

She giggles algorithmically.

“Where you stand right now,” she says, turning her head in a swift mechanical motion to you and you flinch. “This place is called the orchid club square. As you know, only VIP access lets you in.”

You glance at Yangyang worriedly and he shrugs. There’s no way she could know, right? That was oddly specific. But then she moves her head left to right to address the whole crowd in perfect grace. When her movement starts to get a little too eerie to watch any longer, you fix your eyes on the garden instead. You have no way of telling part real flowers from virtual ones and even so—all of them are beautiful. Maybe reality doesn’t make things any prettier.

However, when you look at Yangyang, the thought gets tossed out. You shake your head, in an attempt to get rid of the image of his face. It’s a little too late to be feeling this way. Either that, or the night is taking its toll on you already. The day was exhausting, considering it was the end of the semester.

The AI guide’s chatter fades into something quieter when you move the club square. It’s a rather empty space, fitting for a rave or just housing large crowds. The decorations are for the new year celebrations, banners of the ox in auspicious colours and a few drones projecting the rest. There’s a garden of evermore orchids lining the area in a perfect square and it’s so precise that it’s pleasing to look at. There’s a door at one edge, similar to the one you encountered before entering the club square.

The music that wafts through the air is so gentle, you almost forget there’s a celebration. The beat makes it livelier and even so, the rhythm of your heartbeat matches it in a soothing sort of way. Turning around, you spot the musical ensemble. It’s another AI, peering over a guqin with trained habit.

She looks the same, except she wears an electronic mask over the lower half of her face. It displays a blue musical note made up of noticeable pixels. She has no fan—instead, her fingers strum the guqin rhythmically, programmed with precision and grace. The sound is accompanied by the woodwind notes of a flute, though you’re not sure where that sound emanates from. There’s also a soft drumbeat which seems to come from the guqin bot herself.

You gasp when a few painted goldfish float through the air, almost real to look at if it weren’t for the glitch effect of holograms. One of them swims closer to you, opening and closing its mouth in rhythm and you giggle at its face.

Yangyang laughs, long finger pointing at the critter in amusement. “That’s adorable.”

He looks like a little kid and you giggle at his expression, with wide, delighted eyes and mouth open in focused mirth. He pokes at the goldfish and it makes a bubbling sound, gears shifting in ticking time before suddenly biting at his index finger. Yangyang lets out a low yelp, retracting his hand before clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“You’re like a cartoon,” you tell him, in between laughs. “No way are you real.”

He grins, in that same way he always looks at you and you look away, feeling hot in the face. It’s too enamored a way to look at someone. But of course, that couldn’t be true—he’s Liu Yangyang and you’re you. Parallel lines do not meet, even if they’re headed in the same direction.

“I think you’re unreal,” he mumbles.

iii. club 2

The doors open to a rather spacious arrangement, with several tables one one side and a sort of dance arena on the other where people are trying to out-dance each other. The intensity makes you move further away from it. It seems a little too festive and you can feel the energy slinking away from you. The music is more upbeat but you suppose the DJ tried to make it sound more eastern; the result is pleasing. He wears a smooth black helmet with a neon red beat visualizer on it, with written SFX appearing from time to time. Two pulsing golden horns glow at the sides of his head. You stare at it for longer than you’d like before composing yourself. You’re very impressionable when it comes to parties.

There are two floors to the club, above the bottom floor itself. The other two floors mostly seem to consist of private booths, however, covered with gossamer silk that glow iridescent. A few floating lanterns sway by the upper floors. The ceiling is open to a midnight blue sky and the stars look much larger than you’ve ever seen them—you suspect it’s an AR mesh over the ceiling. A few light shows project little dancing dragons and coins over the sky and you find them too cute to not stare at.

“Wow,” Yangyang says, right after walking in. “Why is Dejun on the table?”

You look where his eyes are focused on, though it’s difficult through the crowd of people, and find Dejun and Kunhang in some sort of old anime transformation pose atop one of the tables. It’s surprising that they’re not the weirdest pair here.

“Now, bear with me, it’s going to be boring as hell till the countdown and the fireworks,” he explains, waving his hands around. “But it’s a good place to have fun and make friends. You know?”

“Friends?” you ask, a little nervous. You’re not very proficient at making friends and it makes you anxious.

“Yeah! Don’t worry. ” He makes a strange gesture, bordering between posing for a beer ad campaign and looking like a motivational speaker for the army, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You just have to be confident! I’m learning too!”

He lets out a sweet laugh and it makes you laugh in turn, hand covering your mouth so you don’t embarrass yourself too much. You don’t believe the words much, but the glow over his cheeks makes you reconsider.

“You look really nice when you laugh,” he comments, a bright glint in his eyes.

“Whatever,” you reply, punching his shoulder lightly.

Just then, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder to find Lana from your ethical AI class, smiling at you warmly. She looks a little tired, of people more than the time. Like you, she is also a scholarship student—and not a day has gone when she hasn’t soothed your anxiety about your classes. In stark contrast with Yangyang, you would trust her over him for most tasks. Even if you weren’t partners, you’re okay with the outcome. You glance at Yangyang.

“(name)! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming here,” she says. “Did Yangyang kidnap you?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“Hey.” Yangyang looks at you with betrayal.

“And how did you even manage to do that cool ass project with him as your partner?” she continues, squinting at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know either. He can be surprisingly helpful though.”

Yangyang looks from Lana to you in exasperation. “I’m literally right here,” he grumbles.

Lana laughs at his expression, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“I just can’t believe you let him kidnap you and not me,” she says in mock indignance. “I’m a much better chauffeur, you know?”

“Do you even have a driving license?” Yangyang asks, laughing.

“I got mine before you, rat. Anyway, (name), I’m playing the guzheng. Do you wanna come see?”

“No,” Yangyang interrupts, suddenly grabbing your hand. “I… I mean you guys can go, of course. It's just the countdown’s close, so we have to go to the viewpoint.”

“That’s exactly where—ah. I see.”

"We'll join you another time, Lana," he says quietly, a cute grin on his face like a little boy would make to an older sister for more shares of chocolate.

"No, no. I actually remembered I left my friends in the corner. See you!"

She leaves her epiphany unsaid, offering you a smile and taking her leave abruptly.

“I thought you told me to socialize,” you complain to Yangyang.

“Yes, I’m so proud of you for that.”

“Yangyang, I swear if you treat me like a kid—”

“I’m not, I’m not. Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just need to borrow you for tonight. After all, I promised you, didn’t I?”

You sigh. “Fine then, what’s this viewpoint you’re talking about?”

“Oh, we’ll get there.”

Someone’s watching you. You turn around a full three-sixty but find only the same crowd of college-age kids. No one sticks out much, apart from Dejun, Kunhang and Ten, who are at this point performing some sort of strange ritual unbeknownst to any new year tradition, with a hell load of yelling.

“Oh my god, you’re dancing too?” Yangyang says, grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t know I’d have that much of a positive influence. Wow.”

“I’m- I’m not- never mind.”

Yangyang furrows his eyebrows. “What did I tell you? More confidence! See—”

He takes your hands in his, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You feel a rising panic but swallow it. There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you look at each other. Yangyang proceeds to perform the stupidest sequence of movements you have ever seen, certainly too awkward for his body to accept as natural but it doesn’t seem like he cares. He’s having fun.

You find yourself laughing. Taking timid steps, you try to loosen up although the inevitable embarrassment arrives in flushes of heat across your face. There are stars in Yangyang’s eyes when you join him—not the artificial jewels in observatories but the real kind that you used to see in your hometown.

You take a wobbly step back. It’s starting to get disorienting. If it were the real sky above you, you might even have felt better. Perhaps the purpose is to get dizzy.

“I’m a little thirsty,” Yangyang says, motioning to the table with food and drinks at a corner. “I’ll head over and be back.”

Unsure what to do, you follow him like a lost lamb and though it would be embarrassing at any other time, any other place, now and here are not part of that.

The red and golden lights of the neon patterning the walls don’t seem as harsh anymore and you let your eyes rest on the boyish figure of Yangyang. You haven’t figured him out yet. Something tells you he’s more than a shallow image of the party-loving rich kids of Shanghai. In fact, in quiet, personal moments, he looks more out of place than you do—despite all that bright neon. You open your mouth to ask something when you’re interrupted by a dizzy Yangyang spinning into you.

“Sorry, (name),” he says, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I genuinely thought I was going to win that game.”

You shake your head, letting him get back to whatever spinning game they were at. He smells like wine and something tells you he’s poor at holding his liquor. The stakes must be high for that game, you figure, because you see Yangyang set aside his beloved shoe on the floor. To be the only scholarship student here suddenly feels scary and awkward.

Yangyang once again tugs at your arm, the touch reassuring as though he understands how you feel. But it isn’t true. There’s no way someone like him can understand someone like you.

“Yangyang,” you call. “Do you come here every year?”

“No, no. I do come for drinks though. I’m only here right now because a friend is hosting this.”

You shrug.

“And you,” he adds and you feel a hot flush rise to your face. “New years are the only time this place is PG-13.”

“I’m not a child,” you snap.

“My mom says childish people say that.”

“Then it's very rich coming from you, Liu Yangyang.”

He laughs heartily, leaning away. A creeping thought grows in your head that you missed out on a lot. But then again, you’ll always miss out on things if you’re not rich enough for them.

Yangyang flinches suddenly, almost knocking a plate off the table. He moves quickly, turning so that his side leans against the wall and the other arm cages you between him and the wall. His frame covers your view from whatever, or whoever arrived at the entrance that made him react so obnoxiously.

However, his lips hovering just a little over yours makes your breath hitch in your throat. This is the worst possible position you could've gotten into. The smell of mint interrupts your thoughts and you look at him with as annoyed an expression as you can muster over the heat of your face.

"Yangyang, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“I am… admiring the wall. Ooh, it’s got velvet over it, did you notice?”

“You’re going to have your head in it too if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

"Just… sorry. Let’s stay like this for a few moments."

He flashes you an apologetic smile, his face close enough to make yours grow even hotter. A nervous chuckle erupts from his lips.

"Oh my god, get off. People are going to think we’re making out."

"We could do it for real."

"I'm going to scratch your eyes out."

"Sorry, sorry."

“Who are you even hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding… okay, forget that. Bodyguard-watcher-dude. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You have a bodyguard?”

“More like a babysitter.”

You try not to laugh, considering the proximity between your faces. “How come you have a babysitter? Actually, wait, I think I know.”

He huffs over your face and you restrain yourself from landing a swift uppercut to his jaw. Now you know the minty smell comes from mouth freshener.

“He’s a prosecutor. It’s weird that he stalks me in his free time. Even- even if… my parents are paying him.”

“They think you’re doing something illegal?”

“No. I don’t think I am.”

You rest your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes. “Really? That’s your answer? God, your brain cells rotted somewhere along the way, didn’t they? It’s all those parties.”

“I’m starting to feel like my mom hired you too.”

He looks back, and noting the absence of his so-called babysitter, he pulls back from you. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and you let it out in a shallow effort.

“Your babysitter’s gone?”

“Not a babysit—I regret saying that. Look, I really don’t think they appointed him because they think I’m doing something illegal. I have never done anything illegal. Except that one street race but that’s because Lucas told me it was perfectly legal.”

“The what?”

“Anyway, the point is, let’s look forward to good fortune for this year, hm? Leave all the burdens to last year.”

“Fortune doesn’t favour fools.”

“I’m not stupid,” he complains, spreading his arms to express it further. “Mostly.”

You laugh, turning your attention to the food table.

“Ooh, pineapple tarts,” he exclaims, hand reaching out to grab one when you smack it.

“You’ve had, like, fifteen already.”

“Mhm,” he says, with a few more stuffed in his mouth.

There’s a pause.

“It’s me, isn't it?” you ask quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

He gulps, lips parting and closing. “I brought you here. So you don’t worry about it.”

Rich people suck. You believe that strongly. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you have everything you can ever want, you start to want the same for everyone around you. Some people are special. You find Yangyang genuinely fascinating for being someone who makes friends when he’s supposed to be making more connections. You find him fascinating.

It makes sense for someone like him to be the way he is.

iv. fireworks viewpoint

“That’s the old Shanghai Tower,” Yangyang points to a building in the distance. “It used to be the tallest building once but… well, it looks like the little guy now.”

Lunar New Year’s celebrations are a big, big deal in New Shanghai. It means a break from university, work and every other affair to have as many priorities sorted in anticipation of the new year. And the impact is evident from this height, when you can see the city in its golden glory. It looks warm out there for once—although you’re not very sure if it’s because of the warmth that comes from right beside you. The little wooden boats float by on the river a little far off, various images blooming as holograms above them. You giggle at the large animated fishes swimming above the river with blank expressions and painted button eyes.

The golden clock shines bright in the sky, its holographic hands ticking down to midnight. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie, scattering golden pixels everywhere with each minute passing. The size of it alone reminds you of the scale of this city.

This is an empire. It's owned by the kings and queens who built it over the bones left from sacrifices. It's going to be owned by heirs and heiresses. You feel a looming sense of dread come over you. It's so beautiful and it can never belong to itself. It must always belong to someone. It’s the terms and conditions of human creation.

"Hey." Yangyang taps you on the shoulder and you try not to flinch. "What are you thinking?"

You hum. "Stuff."

"This place is pretty cool, huh?"

That, you can agree with. "It is. It's so amazing that I can't believe I'm here sometimes."

Yangyang laughs slowly. "I hope more people can live here. Not in level one. You know. No one should live in desperation."

You hold back a scoff, though you end up frowning. What does a rich kid know of desperation? He might as well be prince, and princes do not know how to beg. It must be something of a saviour complex. You shrink away from him. The new year music is starting to ring a little too loud in your ears.

"That would be difficult," you mutter.

"Not if you lower the cost of living conditions—ah. Sorry." He pauses and you feel a flicker of surprise in you. “It’s not appropriate to discuss. Or so my parents tell me…”

The expression comes from empathy. You’re sure of it. There’s some sort of passion and not the kind of coloured fire that flames up in parties, but a different one. The kind that says, if you can’t bear the heat then you can’t learn how to forge. You scoff. Which prince has possibly known heat?

“I- I get angry too,” you say quietly. “I think it’s something to be angry about.”

He smiles at you, leaning against the balcony railing.

You’re interrupted by a man in the attire of a waiter and it causes the two of you to jump away from each other. It’s not like you were very close in the first place but the proximity of shared words can play tricks on people. The man offers the two of you a screen and Yangyang’s face lights up almost immediately.

“We can order food with this,” he says. “Or book a table. The top strips are all reserved for members of the club. That’s the big daddy restaurants.”

“That’s… pretty cool,” you say, leaning in to glance over the browsing menu. “But don’t say that phrase to me again.”

“I can. And I will.”

“Ugh. Move on.”

“Okay, so we should drop by the convenience store for some ramen. I heard they taste better in the middle of the night,” Yangyang suggests all of a sudden, leaning in further.

It gets difficult sometimes to not be bothered by him, especially when there is a lack of distance. You look at him, pause and then sigh. “Sure. I guess. Are those free too?”

He opens his mouth in sudden realization and grins sheepishly at you. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have money then?”

“Uh.”

“How do you not have money? It’s the New Year!”

“I… uh—”

“Okay, you don’t have to answer that. But I’m not paying for you,” you complain. “You could always ask your parents for some money. What’s the point of being a party kid?”

‘Party kids’—it makes you laugh in amusement—is the colloquial term given to the children of businesspeople who had a direct hand in the economic progress of New Shanghai. You would sell your kidneys to be one and it still wouldn’t be enough.

His smile wavers at your statement but he shakes his head. “If I call my mom, she’ll start scolding me again about how my apartment room needs to be cleaner. Blah, blah, blah. You know.”

“She’s right- wait, you don’t clean your room?”

“Don’t take her side, (name).”

You bite down a smile and he offers you his biggest one.

“Oh, that place looks new,” Yangyang exclaims, a long index finger pointing to the preview of a sushi restaurant. You glare at him, his face nearer to yours than you would prefer but his eyes are fixed like a child ogling halloween candy.

“Let’s go,” he urges, looking directly at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. “We don’t have money. Or bit-credits.”

He sighs, deflating as though you just snatched the candy right from his hands. “But… I haven’t been there before.”

“So?” You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You don’t have to try every food place in the city.”

“I need to eat,” he says as though it’s a very reasonable response. “I’m still growing!”

“Not mentally.”

He drops his smile, looking at you blankly. “You don’t have to get so smart with me, let me tell you.”

You snicker at the ‘offended’ expression on his face.

In the next moment, your attention shifts to the sudden crowd of people rushing to the balcony. Yangyang pulls you closer to avoid getting pushed by them, and you look around confused. It all makes sense when they start chanting the numbers, counting down from ten. You can only stare in awe at the clock and the otherworldly glee in the rhythmic chants. It’s like they don’t feel anything but joy at this moment. You let yourself smile.

The clock strikes twelve. The sound of the bell resounds throughout the city and the firecrackers burst into a thousand shades of red and gold across the sky. There’s moving images of animals, floating text and other animations which make the night sky seem like a screen. The sparks of the fireworks look like golden snow, or even happy little pixels.

You point your finger to the sky excitedly but when you turn, Yangyang’s eyes aren’t on the sky but on your hand outstretched towards it. He faces you, rather hesitantly as though caught red-handed.

“You’re- you’re… so pretty,” he says, softly and shrugging as if answering a question.

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. It’s the lonely speaking, right? The euphoria of human connection in this time and age—it can make you believe anything. There’s a myriad of colours blooming in the sky behind you, a city dazzling with diamond and ruby lights, people with much more stories to tell than you do. This city, this city, this city. This city will break your heart.

“It’s kind of crappy,” you mutter, to which Yangyang quirks an ear.

“Wh-what is?”

“This city. It’s got bright lights and fun and all those promises of success. But all I see are people desperately trying to survive. All I see are the same faces at the top and—I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”

“No, no.” He makes a vague gesture. “I’m listening.”

“We’re at their mercy,” you whisper. “My life is not my own. That’s crappy.”

Yangyang hums in response. “You're right. What’s the point of living a life that’s not your own?”

Looking at him again, you see the entire figure of his being against the fireworks and all the beautiful creations of the human race. His almost silver hair falls perfectly by his forehead, the contact lenses looking like glazed frost over his eyes. Just as vibrant and excessive as the city itself, Yangyang belongs here. This is his kingdom.

No, that’s not quite right perhaps. Yangyang belongs anywhere because he brings warmth. You're suddenly grateful he's with you because no one you know would possibly go out of their way to make you feel comfortable like this. You know Yangyang loves people and crowds. No one would do that for you at the expense of their own enjoyment. You smile at the prospect of solving the blinding mystery that he is.

"We… should leave," Yangyang says, all of a sudden. He eyes a man at the corner of the balcony, dressed in a business suit and looking blank. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You're not sure why he's in that getup.

"Okay," you say, not sure why you're so agreeable tonight.

Maybe it's the night. Sometimes all you can do is drag your feet over the asphalt and hope it'll be sunnier tomorrow.

v. two-four-seven convenience store

College boys are the most god-awful creatures on earth.

“Hey, do you always reach class on time?” Yangyang asks, eyes curious. He keeps asking a question every five minutes or so, trying to keep up conversation. You've already told him he doesn't have to. However, it makes you strangely comfortable to hear the sound of his voice periodically. You won't tell him that.

You nod, returning your gaze to the window, though the advertisements block your view. You can always try skipping the ad every five goddamn seconds.

It's your first time riding the train that travels through the Mobius Strip, and certainly the first time in a luxury cabin. Since it’s free for members of the new year club, you can heave a sigh of relief. You will never in your life, even if it’s genetically elongated, ever be able to afford a luxury cabin.

"Oh, that looks so good," Yangyang says, large hand smacking against the window to get rid of the colourful advertisements.

"It's a convenience store, Yangyang," you say. "It's got everyday ramen."

"No, look. It's a different brand. And they're giving a burger for free with two ramen cups!"

You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Well, I guess it's cheaper too."

"Oh, we can go to one of the upper restaurants too. They're free, remember?"

"I like convenience stores," you mumble. There's something about the lack of even lighting and crowds that made them a comfort spot for you.

“Quick,” he says, pulling you off the seat when the train stops.

“Yangyang!” you warn. He's so easily excitable that you find it hard to believe he's real sometimes.

However, when he turns around with his big puppy-dog eyes, you curse at yourself before you curse at him. Sighing, you follow him down the steps, his hand tenderly holding yours. Sometimes, you wonder if the human touch means anything at all in this diamond and steel era. Yangyang’s palm is warm against yours.

The ramen tastes awfully delicious on stolen time, and you would complain more if it weren’t for Yangyang looking at you with so serene a look. It annoys you and you try to grab his attention by waving your chopsticks in front of him. When it doesn’t work, you resort to swearing. You’ve never seen anyone respond with a smiling hum after being told to “eat shit”.

“Oh, this tastes so good,” he states, cheeks puffed with food. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“I- I think you’re crying because it’s spicy.”

“Oh.”

As usual, Yangyang pokes and prods at you with questions about your daily life, like you’re the most interesting thing in a city full of blinding lights, world-class robots and cyber-enhanced technology. You don’t understand how he doesn’t just grow tired of asking every single detail about you.

Apart from the fact that Liu Yangyang is most certainly an environmental hazard, some part of you cannot believe that he's truly terrible. There's something innocent about him, but all at once, something quiet and mysterious.

“Why are you always so curious, Yangyang?” you ask finally. “Why are you always running off to different places?”

“Because experiences never come twice,” he answers after some thinking. It seems to be a little difficult for him to articulate, deep contemplation over his features when he continues. “This city… all the lights and clubs and arenas, all of it will be gone someday. Like we don’t have telephones or those big computers anymore.”

You rest your chin on your palm, leaning in.

“This moment, right here with you… I’ll never experience it again,” he tells you. “We can have more midnight convenience store ramen sometime later but… each time will be different. I’d rather live now.”

You smile softly. “That’s a funny thought to live by.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” he says, patting your head. “Also, I’m like hot and young and popular and not a cyborg—how can I miss parties?”

You shake your head, laughing. He’s ridiculous. He’s completely ridiculous. In that moment, when you look at him, Yangyang seems to be smiling in a daze, eyes on your face.

“You look nice when you smile,” he says quietly.

"Thanks," you respond. "I should keep it a secret then, huh?"

"Not from me," he says, smiling.

Somehow, the extra minutes you have at the convenience store turn to a few multiplayer games and then, ditching technology, to an arm wrestling match.

"I feel like this game is kind of unfair," you say after losing almost immediately. He's clearly got stronger muscles. Does he work out? Probably against his will, you bet.

“My right arm’s a lot stronger than my left arm,” he says, before looking a little horrified. “That wasn’t a masturbation joke, by the way. I am so sorry.”

You roll your eyes. "Give me your left hand then- wait. You're right-handed?"

"That's not the- uh." He thinks for a moment, trying to gather words. “That’s not the reason.”

“I, uh, I heavily damaged this arm when I was a kid—don’t look like that, there’s a fun part to this. It’s made of titanium! And some other things. The names are too complicated.”

You drive your fingers over the arm, so warm and real and flushed red, anything but metal and code. You find curiosity blooming in you more than ever before.

“You know why I’m not with family,” you say, straightening. “But why aren’t you celebrating with your family?”

He gets quiet, thinking to himself for a few more moments. You almost regret asking when he answers, a hesitant sound leaving him first.

“None of us, uh… none of our parents can spare more than three hours. They’ll come in the afternoon tomorr—today.”

You can’t exactly respond to that very well.

“So all of us go hang out at the New Year’s Club.”

You frown. "But it's not a celebration without family!"

"We have new year lunches. And… it's the future. Traditions die. Very few grieve them for fear of being stuck in the past."

You feel partly horrified and partly dismal. "I… You could come with me next year, if you like."

You're not sure where the offer comes from but Yangyang lights up at the idea.

"I can? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"

"Slow down. There's a year to go."

Yangyang laughs. It's surprising the way he turned out. He must have gotten tired of waiting by the door. And now you know all the things about him that his parents don’t.

You smile at him, warming up to the idea of you and him as friends before scoffing at it again.

Right in the next moment, Yangyang dips suddenly to the ground, crouching below the table. You look around in surprise and fall to your knees with a yelp at the tug on our wrist from Yangyang.

“What the hell?” you hiss. “You’re starting to act really weird.”

“I- Sorry. It’s an emergency,” he says, but there’s no sign of distress in his voice. He simply smiles at you. Perhaps he’s never heard of the emotion as of yet.

“Your babysitter?”

“I say that once and on accident—yes, it’s my babysitter.”

You chuckle. He’s simply too cute at times.

“We have to be discreet now, okay? It’s like—what’s the movie called? Oh, Mission Impossible.”

“I’ve never seen that.”

“What? How can you not? It’s a classic! It’s got so many cool—ah, I’ll show you another time.”

You hum, staring at Yangyang’s facial features tense up and relax again as he scans the vicinity outside the window of the convenience store. It’s full of people, even at this hour so you can’t possibly know who’s looking at you from there.

Yangyang turns back to you. “Have you ever been to blue moon station?”

“The one with the pretty walls? No. No, I’ve never even gone beyond Strip Two.”

Yangyang smiles at you and right then, you feel like you’re about to resent whatever’s going to happen next. It’s in the ebb and flow of tonight’s itinerary, however, and you relax your shoulders just as he does a roll across the floor, looking back at you with a grin for executing it flawlessly.

“You’re so silly,” you mutter.

“I heard that,” he whisper-shouts back.

You’re not as afraid as before, you realize. The lights are absolutely mesmerizing.

vi. blue moon station

It drops a few degrees in temperature once you step foot onto the platform. You can see a bunch of scattered tourists, cameras hanging around their neck and a look of awe over their faces.

Yangyang takes off his jacket, shivering immediately but offering it to you nonetheless. When you refuse, he places it gingerly over your shoulders.

"Is that a…?"

"A tourist bot, yes."

"Oh my god, it's so cute," you say, crouching by the little red robot, a teal-colored smiley face popping up on its monitor.

"A lot of tourists in this station," you note.

"Yeah. It's very… visually pleasing."

That's true. The walls are screens with three dimensional graphics, immersive enough to catch one's eye. A single tree grows through the middle of the station, evergreen and alive with holographic flora and fauna. The sun shines eternally over the tree. It's so beautiful that you had trouble taking your eyes off it at first.

The walls next to you are currently displaying a walk through a fantasy forest, crafted by a visionary artist, no doubt. A blue butterfly flies past you and you stare at it before zoning out.

Sometimes, the lights are too disorienting. You start to feel dizzy, massaging your forehead when Yangyang brushes the tips of his fingers against your shoulder.

“You good?”

Yangyang crouches beside you with watchful eyes.

You nod, turning your attention to the tourist bot. It displays a plethora of information about the architecture of this place which you're sure no tourist will bother to read beyond the first two lines.

“You can make it do cool tricks too,” Yangyang says. “Watch.”

Yangyang pokes at it with his index finger, drawing a pattern over the screen. The bot proceeds to do an old internet dance, waving about its arms and hips. You laugh at it and Yangyang looks at you with the pride of a third grader with first place on their science project.

The colours on the walls change and you see the animation of a man and a fox, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to recall that image. They seem to be broadcasting fables through the holograms. You can’t deny that they’re pretty—glowing with auspicious colours and as animated as the real world itself. As if by compulsion, you hold Yangyang’s hand. It’s nice to feel the human touch real once in a while, especially in the overwhelming loneliness of city nights.

Yangyang looks at you brightly and right then, you feel less inclined to leave him.

“You know, I could teach you better ways to flirt than just grab my hand,” he says, grinning like an idiot.

“What?”

You move your hand. “I’m not flirting.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he responds quickly. “Can I please have your hand back?”

You shake your head, laughing. He worries you. Some part of you says you shouldn’t be worried. It’s not like you’re close friends. (Friends, maybe. Close, not yet.)

The night has a different opinion.

—

“Found you,” a voice declares, and the two of you jump into each other with a scream.

The man in the suit looks at you with a fatigued look in his eyes, hair somehow still neat though he breathes like his lungs are on fire.

“Care to tell me why you’ve been skipping my calls?” he asks after catching his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to follow you—you just needed to tell me.”

“I… I was busy?” Yangyang flashes a smile. “Kun-ge, I honestly had no idea you called. I don’t even have my phone.”

The man shakes his head. “Fine. Just head over to Jasmine for the night. And you can bring your date too.”

He gestures at you and you want to deny it as quick as you can. You do not, however. It’s almost like you’ve warmed up to the idea of it rather well.

“Okay,” Yangyang answers quietly.

vii. jasmine private lounge

You enter a lounge with the capacity of around a hundred people. Despite that, there are hardly five present. The walls are black with neon jasmines pulsating from blue to red. A grand piano lies still in all its elegance in the middle of the lounge, played by a plain white AI. It feels like an expensive place to be, and more so, it feels like someplace you’re not supposed to step foot into. There's a bar table at one side, opposite to the entrance which glows a hypnotizing purple. A flat lettering on the wall declares the time to be 3 A.M.

You and Yangyang sit a little too close on the artificially warmed couch, waiting for Kun to return. Yangyang reassures you that you haven't done anything wrong but the illicit outing of yours certainly says otherwise. You contemplate tasting the cocktail Yangyang ordered before finally giving in and find it pleasantly warm to taste. You take another sip.

“It’s a little strong,” Yangyang warns. “Don’t have all of—you had all of it.”

You shrug. Your throat certainly feels better now. This lounge is fucking cold.

"You know, Yangyang," you say with the warmth of confidence on your face. "You're a really nice guy."

He smiles incredulously. "Thanks. You're really nice too."

"And you're pretty decent-looking—"

"I know that."

"—and also popular. So why are you always hanging around me?"

"Uh, that's your question?"

You nod. Placing your cheek against your palm, you try not to sink into the couch.

"Because you're really cool!" He answers before clearing his throat. "I mean. I think you're fun to be around. You make me see things clearer."

"And what exactly are you wanting to see clearer?'

"You."

You blink aside your astoundment, straightening. "What?"

Your question is left unanswered because a man enters and sits across the two of you, a loud huff of annoyance leaving his mouth. It's not just his disposition but the architecture of his face that grabs your attention. He looks like an AI robot so perfectly crafted with coloured lips and flawless skin that you end up staring till Yangyang elbows you.

“He’s not an AI,” Yangyang whispers.

You furrow your brows and notice it is, in fact, true that he's not an AI. There are no ridges over the joints or hollowness in the eyes. He wears the same frost-patterned smart lenses as Yangyang does. However, it doesn't change the fact that the man is beautiful to look at.

“I’m never hosting a new year party again,” he mutters, sinking into the couch.

“It actually sounds kind of fun,” Yangyang interjects. “I can’t wait for my turn.”

“I’m sorry. Good luck standing at Longhua temple for three hours till midnight just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Without dinner.”

Yangyang makes a face at that.

"That's Sicheng-ge," he says, turning to you.

"Ah," you say in response, remembering the name vaguely.

"He let us into Club 2," Yangyang says, noticing your lost expression.

"I think Kun's looking for you," Sicheng says, eyes trained at the back.

His hands fidget with the dim blue buttons at the edge of the table, till a small compartment reveals itself under the glass. An old world-style cigarette is slowly pushed up and Sicheng picks it up. He offers the next one to Yangyang, who accepts it hesitantly. No one smokes tobacco anymore when nicotine is so readily available. Alas, human nature is to want things deadly and out of reach.

“So how’s Cat?” Yangyang asks, fumbling with the plasma lighter he picked from a compartment on the side.

Sicheng smiles a little, the smoke from his cigarette snaking around him as he raises a hand to dissipate it.

“She’s doing fine. Running everything as usual.”

“Of course. Boss lady.” Yangyang does an awkward salute.

“Oh, a new hair color too. As pretty as flower fields in the spring of ‘22.”

Sicheng’s lovesick rambling is interrupted by Yangyang hacking his lungs out. You turn to him and he avoids your gaze, reaching for a crystal blue glass of water one of the helper bots offer. So, he’s not even a smoker? Why did he think you would care?

“Anyway, Kun is glaring daggers at me now. You better get out of here.” Sicheng grimaces.

You turn around to see Kun by the bar table, gesturing towards Yangyang to come. You're not sure why but either of those men make you nervous.

"I'll be right back," Yangyang says, scrambling up and leaving you in a long awkward silence with Sicheng.

“So, uh, I’m assuming you’re oblivious to that lovestruck puppy following you around?” Sicheng asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this some game you guys are into? I’m not judging you for that.”

Your face heats up and you fidget with your collar. “The- A what? Game? Uh? I- huh?”

Sicheng tries to press down his smile but it’s evident enough for you to see. Did you say something funny? Did Yangyang say something funny about you? Oh, you’re going to kill him.

“For all that he talks, he’s kind of terrible at pulling together his own love life.”

“I- I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

It still unnerves you to look at him. He certainly looks more android than human when he’s not making any particular expression.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, offering you a reassuring smile. “You should find Yangyang before he lands the two of you in trouble.”

You turn to look at Yangyang through the glass and turn back nodding. Sicheng offers you a parting smile and you hesitantly make your way to the bar table.

"This isn't in my job description," Kun tells Yangyang just before you arrive. "I didn't know being a lawyer included babysitting."

The tips of Yangyang's ears heat up when he notices you.

"It's not babysitting," he murmurs. “Also, you’re not my mom.”

"You, Ten, Kunhang, all of you give me such a hard time," he continues but pauses right when he notices you.

"Oh, hello. (Name), isn't it?" He says, smiling politely. He's quite young and handsome for a lawyer. "Yangyang talks about you a lot."

"Oh," you respond. "Really?"

Yangyang glares at the older man. "You don't have to say everything, Kun-ge."

"You interested in law?" Kun asks, offering you a seat between him and Yangyang.

You make a face. The law is a tool for the rich and powerful. But then again, what isn’t? The world is in your hands when you have billions to spare. However, you still can’t imagine being a rich man's guard dog your whole life.

Kun chuckles. "You kids are interested in tech more, aren't you?"

Yangyang interrupts, "You talk like you're fifty years old."

Kun grimaces, resting his face against his hand. Shooting a glare at Yangyang, he finishes the rest of his wine.

You're not exactly interested in tech or engineering or the big kid jobs either. You just want a way to survive this man-made food chain. Rich eats the world till there’s nothing left on the plate. Then again, you'd rather be a pet than get eaten.

"Anyway," Kun turns to Yangyang. "If you see Ten, give me a call."

Yangyang signals with a thumbs up gesture, watching as Kun’s figure slowly makes its way out of the gate. It’s the two of you again and suddenly, you feel a strange sort of feeling overcome you. Leaning your throbbing forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, you take some soft breaths and skip the part where you question your actions. It’s pleasant, at the very least. He shifts his chair closer, extending his arm around you so that your head rests against his shoulder more comfortably.

“You must be tired,” he mutters.

“You didn’t answer me,” you say. “Answer in a way I understood, at least.”

“Hm?”

“Why do you hang around me?”

“Do you not… want me to?”

“No. I like your company, actually. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Yangyang laughs. “You’re… you’re really perfect. As a person. At least to me, you seem that way.”

You scoff. “You’re a long way off there.”

“No. No, you felt like clockwork,” he continues. “When I first met you. I couldn’t believe you were real.”

You do work like a delirious robot on clockwork steroids. But you’re not very proud of it. You don’t think overworking is a good personality trait to have—even if it’s for survival. However, the faraway look in Yangyang’s eyes suggests that’s not what he means.

“I felt like I understood you,” he continues after a short pause.

You find it unbelievable. That’s the one sentence you could never imagine coming from him to you, much less agree with. But right then, as his warmth seeps into you, you want to agree desperately.

Yangyang feels an unexpected trickle of doubt down his throat. No matter how many times he’s practised in front of the mirror, the words don’t come out right when you’re with him. With everything you do, he feels more drawn in. There’s something familiar and something honest. And if he’s honest himself, he just likes you. What sort of a hypocrite should he be categorized as, to tell his friends to ‘just confess’ to their crushes when he’s a complete idiot when it comes to you? It can’t be that little voice from his childhood that tells him to stay in order.

Yangyang understands that there are rules to this world but he doesn’t get what those have got to do with him. He sighs, the sound somewhat grim when it comes from him.

"I've seen it before," he says, "People come from all over the country with hopes and dreams, and they get their hearts broken by capitalism."

You frown.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbles. "I hope you'll stay… even if- even if you feel like that, you know? If you're feeling lonely, I could—"

"Yangyang." You smile. "I’m quite comfortable here."

When you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, Yangyang thinks this is it. This is how he ends the sorry excuse of flirting he’s been trying with you and says something he regrets. It was never this difficult with the other crushes he’s had. He’s always left opening his mouth and then promptly closing it like a goldfish out of water every single time he wants to bring up dating with you. He’s always honest. So, what’s the big deal this time? This is so horrendously not cool of him.

You straighten. “We should get back home.”

“Can you- Can you not move so far from me, please?” Yangyang murmurs, hands gripping yours.

You smile, to yourself more to him but that’s one he likes the most.

“You’re a really interesting person, Yangyang.”

“I am?” He clears his throat and repeats the question.

“How are you so nice to people?”

“I think people are nice.”

“Why do you like parties?”

“They’re fun.”

“When the party’s over, who do you go to?” you ask, words mushing into each other.

“Home,” he answers, gulping down what seems like more words. “Like always.”

A hush falls between the two of you. You’re asking quite the questions.

“I’m sweaty,” you mutter. “I hate being sweaty.”

“You look wonderful though,” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Not that being sweaty makes you wonderful. You’re just nice.”

There’s another hush, the notes of the piano playing a faraway, romantic tune. He turns away and looks back at you again, but right in that moment, you lean forward to press your lips against his. It’s so sudden that he almost falls over backwards, his feet planted firmly on the ground the only thing preventing that from happening. The next thing he thinks is that your lips are on fire and it’s the most comfortable feeling he’s ever experienced.

The two of you fit into each other like clockwork, Yangyang thinks. It’s the one thing in his life that feels whole. Not that he isn’t whole by himself—he just loves your warmth. For a moment he feels like he’s on cloud nine and the next, his heart plummets when he feels you go limp in his arms.

It breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t—can’t bring himself to say much. He’s not this bad when he’s drunk, is he? Pulling you up by the waist, he texts Kunhang to bring his car down to the lounge.

This is going to be a long night.

viii. home

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and immediately know you're someplace you shouldn't be. This isn't your bed. The sun doesn't reach your bed in the morning. This isn’t the dormitory. You see a cubical alarm clock, a pixelated smiley face on it as it displays 10 A.M.

You get up and immediately shriek. You’re not wearing any clothes. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you look around the room. It’s huge; the walls are multicolored with a little section opposite the bed reserved for photographs. There’s a lot of junk all over the floor that you don’t pay mind to when you notice Yangyang.

“Yangyang?!”

He rouses blinking slowly, hair going every which way and his eyes still unfocused. He looks like he’s had a difficult night.

“Why are you on the floor?” you ask, shrinking further into the ridiculously soft bed when he gets up. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks like he's looking at a mirage instead of a real live person. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt and you look away after a prolonged minute of staring. This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?

“Yangyang!”

“Huh? Oh!”

He seems to be finally awake. You should pop the question before it eats you alive.

"Did- Did we…?"

Yangyang blinks at you in confusion before a loud "oh" erupts from his mouth.

"No!" He says in between laughter. "No, we didn't. Oh my god, you’re so funny. You took off your clothes saying it's too hot and smacked me with them. I didn’t look, by the way.”

Your jaw drops. You can’t even form words through the pulsing headache.

“Your clothes are on the chair. And I didn’t touch your underwear. Out of respect."

You avoid eye contact in embarrassment.

“And… well, you did kiss me once. Twice.”

You look up alarmed and he raises his arms in defense.

“You- you were drunk so I had to push you off. You cried a little after that. Sorry.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, sitting down on the bed. That has to be the most embarrassing thing you could have done.

“You- Don’t worry about that. You’re a good kisser. I was kind of surprised,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better but you only grow hotter in the face.

“And- And I liked it,” he adds in a panic. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a creepy way.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t anyone else.”

“What?”

“You. It’s okay if it’s you.”

You give him a weak smile, still not over the embarrassment.

Yangyang laughs. “I… I think I should’ve said this before but… can I take you out on a date?”

“What were we doing last night then?”

“Well, that was- ah. You’re teasing me. Motherfucker.”

You giggle into your palm. When he takes a seat on the bed, you make a distressed sound and he jumps up immediately.

“My clothes,” you hiss. “Get out of the room so I can wear them.”

“Right,” he says, pointing an index finger at you.

He turns around right then. "By the way…"

You shriek, pulling the cover up all the way to your nose.

"Sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately. "If- if that was a date, did you like it? Do you wanna go on another one?"

You can see him practically sweat bullets and you laugh at the innocuous questions. He’s too cute. You can’t believe you made yourself shake off the thought every time it crossed you. However indelicate his touch is, you welcome it nonetheless.

"Yes. Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You annoying, stupid, bratty idiot."

“Okay, that was mean.”

Watching his figure leave through the door, you relax your shoulders. In the end, people will always be people. No matter what shiny new toy you give them to play with, people will always search for happiness, and they will laugh and cry and fall in love with people and places and things over and over again. It's lovely to be human in an era of diamond and steel.

#yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #yangyang scenarios #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang fanfic #nct fanfic #yangyang fic #moonwrites #dawg idk what im doing imma be honest here

256 notes · View notes

rottenrosethorns · 1 year

Text

Promise | Part Two

Pairing: RE4!Leon S. Kennedy x co-worker!fwb!afab!Reader

Genre: Friends with Benefits AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Synopsis: It’s been days since Leon left, the last you heard from him being rumors about the mission. Over the span of those days without him, you start to realize how much you craved Leon’s comfort beyond physical. But, why is he suddenly acting so distant?

Word Count: 9.2K

Warnings: 18+ SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI; mild slow burn?, allusions towards depressive episode, crying, slight depictions of blood and gore, Y/N used once, reader smokes cigarette, reader consumes alcohol, switch!reader x dom!Leon, slight humiliation (reader receiving), slight overstimulation (reader receiving), pet names (love, baby, beautiful), fingering (reader receiving), rough fucking, oral sex (reader receiving), spanking (reader receiving), choking (reader receiving), oil massage (reader receiving), manhandling (reader receiving),mutual aftercare, swearing

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE!!! A huge, huge thank you for everyone's love for Promise pt. 1. I really hope everyone enjoys the second part. I appreciate everyone’s patience and apologize for taking so long to finish this. I cannot tell you how many times I reconstructed the plot lol

Taglist: @navreads @navstuffs (sry i couldn't tag your side blog)

__________

- masterlist -

- part one -

__________

You don’t remember the last time you slept. Well, of course you slept, every human needs sleep to recover. Maybe you should say that you couldn’t remember the last time you fully recovered. Regardless, all you knew was that feeling of uneasiness whirling in the pits of your stomach.

Ever since Leon left for the mission, you couldn’t help but worry. The constant feeling of fear consumed your thoughts 24/7 as you daydreamed about what horrors Leon could be facing and whether or not he had the skill and luck to survive. The devil that people call “the little voice in my head” tormented you with narrative images of Leon’s death. Some scenarios were soaked with gushing blood, some were infected with whatever mutated virus, and some – the one you deemed the worst out of all – was simply a missing person, no body to be found whatsoever.

You spent your mornings in bed, laying there for what felt like hours only to fight off the grogginess with some cheap coffee or energy drink before heading to work at the very last second possible without being considered tardy. Normally, you were a very diligent worker, investigating virus cases or testing for possible antidotes. But these days with your mind clouded with Leon’s absence, you often caught yourself stumbling over work. Your supervisor scolded you for simple mistakes, ones that you would’ve never made before. You were slow and sloppy, and Leon was all to blame.

If you thought your performance at work was bad, your personal life was even worse. Once work was over, you’d go home, maybe make a sorry excuse for a meal, watch an episode or two of whatever show you had queued, and get ready for bed. When you entered your apartment, you’d think of when Leon would push you towards the closest wall, pining you with his hips as he grinded his restricted erection into your hip bone. When you cooked, you’d think of when Leon slid his hands down from your waist to pick you up and trap you on your granite countertops. When you ate, you’d think of when Leon bent you over and railed into you from behind over your kitchen table.

Fuck.

You’d hope some TV would ease your mind, but the audio quickly became white noise as your thoughts drifted towards Leon. On a day where you were feeling particularly lonely, you closed your eyes and layed yourself in bed with your hand creeping under the waistband of your pants. You sighed in relief, reaching the spot which craved your attention. With your imagination, you pictured Leon in front of you. His eyes watched as you did your best to satisfy yourself. You listened to his ghost-like whispers as he guided where to put your fingers and how much or little to apply pressure. With your fingers, you tried your best to follow his silent commands, doing your best to imitate his technique. For an hour, you remained like that, pushing and hoping to reach a climax, but even imitation could never compare to the real thing. Nothing could compare to Leon. So, you found yourself cleaning up, although barely lubricated and heading to bed to ignore the pitiful aching between your legs.

You didn’t know when – if – Leon was coming back, all you knew was that somehow, this became routine for you.

“Hello?? Hello???” Poppy waved a hand in your face, “Earth to agent? What’s got you so distracted?”

Startled, you jumped back, not realizing that you’d been staring blankly at your laptop screen for some while. You cleared your throat, finding the almost empty cup of whatever drink left behind and chugging it, “Shit, sorry. Need something?”

Poppy looked at you with concern, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I do. I need to know what’s up with you. Are you okay? You’ve been totally out of it these days.”

“I’m fine,” You touched her hand, grateful for her concern, “Just tired.”

“Trouble sleeping? I don’t want to be mean, but those eye bags are killer. Not the good kind.”

Rubbing your eyes, you sighed with the weight of last night’s lack of sleep on your shoulders, “Yeah, something like that.”

“You know I care for you, right?” Poppy softly smiled, “And, that you can tell me anything, and I mean anything, if you need to.”

You nodded, reciprocating her smile, genuinely thankful for her friendship. Although you weren’t ready to share your experience, you were glad to know that you had someone to go to if you ever felt particularly sentimental, “I know, thank you. Just got some stuff on my mind, but I promise I’m okay.”

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself back into work mode, “Did you still need something or just come to visit?”

Only then, you noticed the collection of papers in Poppy’s hands as she gave them to you. Looking through them, your heart leapt to your throat as you instantly recognized Leon’s handwriting on the mission reports. Stunned, you felt like all of time ceased around you as a loud buzzing sound pierced your ears. It was only until Poppy’s soft voice pulled you back into reality, “He’s in the infirmary, the doctors are watching him for any signs of Las Plagas just in case Luis’s laboratory was faulty. We’re supposed to go see him and run some tests as well.”

You were out the door quicker than Poppy could finish, leaving her to trail behind you as you rushed towards the infirmary. You could hear Poppy shouting for you to slow down and wait for her, but your mind was racing with Leon and the need to just see him. You heard a soft crunch, looking down to notice that the reports had been crumpled by your death grip. You felt light headed, out of breath with anxiety, almost like your heart was about to burst through your ribcage. Turning towards Poppy, who just caught up to you, you pleaded, “Which room is he in?”

“The one on the left.”

In your mind, you wanted to dash towards his room, slam the door open, and jump into his arms; however, your legs felt like jelly, each step slower than the previous as you paced to a standstill just in front of the closed door with your hand frozen on the handle. From the little window in the door, you saw Leon laying on the bed, draped in a hospital gown and tucked underneath the thin, white top sheet. Next to him, his bloodied uniform folded in a sealed bag, waiting to be sent off to forensics. With your free hand, you covered your mouth as tears silently ran down your face. The sight before you was freighting, nothing like any type of fear you felt before. Leon, bruised and battered, became your worst nightmare. The image of his dormant figure etching into your memory forever.

“Is he…” You gulped, swallowing down the lump in your throat before taking a shaky breath. It didn’t matter as you couldn’t bear to finish your sentence.

Poppy grabbed your hand, the one that’d been resting on the door handle and pulled you to face her. She cooed at you to take deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling with you. You hadn’t realized you were starting to hyperventilate. Once the heavy pressure on your chest dissipated, Poppy spoke, “He’s okay, just sleeping. His body is recovering from the lack of food and sleep. The doctors are closely monitoring him, and we’re waiting for his results.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and thanked whatever higher being for protecting Leon. As much as you wanted to look back at Leon, you were scared to see him in such condition again. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him return from a mission, but this was definitely the first time you’ve seen him return so beaten up and in a hospital bed.

A tight hug from Poppy pulled you from your thoughts. You’d meant to ask what she was doing, but her warm embrace reminded you of your lack of social interaction and sent you into another fit of tears. Your lips trembled as you buried your face into her shoulder and graciously accepted her embrace. You mumbled as coherently as you could about how scared you were, how worried you were, and how lonely you’d been without him. Unknowingly, you’d just confess your feelings for Leon.

Poppy consoled you, bringing up a hand to pat the back of your head and caringly brushing your hair, “You haven’t told him?”

You shook your head, “I don’t think I realized until now.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t.”

You pulled back, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Everyone can tell that you two have chemistry,” Poppy laughed to ease the tense atmosphere, “Sorry to say, but you two aren’t so good at hiding your not-so-secret glances at each other.”

You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you blushed, “Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“It wasn’t, you just confirmed it for me,” Poppy snickered as you scowled. She rejoiced with an empathetic look in her eyes, “You know you should tell Leon how you feel. We almost lost him this time, you might not get to say how you feel about him.”

You pressed your lips together, hesitating before speaking, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Getting rejected?”

“And, how would you know that? We’ve seen the way he treats you, you both go home after work together, what else do you need?” Poppy reasoned, “How could he say no to you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Your voice came out as a hushed whisper, as you looked towards the floor and found the patterns on the tiles more interesting than your answer.

Poppy looked over at Leon’s sleeping body, “You can practice when he’s not listening, and then, when you’re ready, you can tell him how you feel without being scared.”

You followed Poppy’s eyes, once again landing on Leon’s body. Internally, you debated whether or not you should follow Poppy's plan. You bit your lip with anticipation, “What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

Poppy nodded, a brighter smile blooming on her face. She wiped your tears and fixed your hair, “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

You thanked her, giving her one last hug before turning back towards the door. You took a moment to breathe before bracing yourself and entering his room. The hum of the machines buzzed through your ears, blurring the deafening thoughts racing through your mind. Soft yellow hues from the overhead light illuminated Leon’s scratched up face. Slowly, you moved towards him and stood near the edge of the bed. You stared at his hand, a bandage wrapped around what you assumed to be a wound obtained from catching a knife. Hesitantly, your fingers touched the bandage before gently snaking them to hold his hand. A sense of relief washed over you as the warmth of his hand reassured he was alive and well. Although he was sleeping, you felt him grip your hand just a tiny bit tighter once yours was in his, causing your lips to quiver again and slow tears to fall.

“Um, hey,” Your voice cracked, “Sorry. Um, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I really missed you, and I was really worried about you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left. Uh, I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, but I care for you. I want you to be happy, I want you to be healthy, and-”

You gulped, “And…I want to be the one to make you happy.”

“I…” You took a deep breath, “I love you, Leon.”

And, mumbling through his slumber, Leon whispered, “I love you too, Ada.”

…..

It’s been three days since you showed up to work, having a poor excuse of catching a nasty cold. In reality, you were perfectly fine if you considered an aching heart to be okay. Like a teen whose crush just kissed another person, you spend the last three days lazing around in your bed, barely getting up to eat and seldom showering. You basically lived in your bed. But as nice as this was, you couldn’t run away forever. You had a day job, and you didn’t want to risk getting fired. So, you shuffled towards your bathroom and hopped in the shower, not having the confidence to look at your appearance through the mirror’s reflection. Even though it took most of your energy to walk to the shower, you instantly regretted not showering sooner with the relief of the hot water soaking your frail body. You worked through your matted and tangled hair, cleaned up your hygiene, and took some time to think about random shower thoughts. After all, that’s all you’d been doing with your time – thinking. Though no matter how much you thought about it, you couldn’t figure out any answers to your questions: Who was Ada and when did he meet her?

If you recall correctly, you were the only person that had been hooking up with Leon. You confirmed this because he rarely spends nights at others’ places, having preferred to be in the comfort of his own home. Plus, you never saw any indications of other female visitors at his place. So, if you and he had been exclusive for the past few months, that limits the time frame down to Ada being way before your time and not a recent person of interest. So, then the question changes to whether Ada was an ex-girlfriend and whether Leon still had feelings for her.

Who were you kidding? Of course he still had feelings for her, he confessed his love to Ada afterall. Even though he didn’t know that it was you that had confessed to him, Leon subconsciously kept Ada close to his heart.

The only thing to confuse you was why had Leon treated you so nicely beforehand? He was always around you, kept you company, walked you home, memorized your favorite foods, and so on. What was the reason for all of that if he hadn’t been interested? Was he leading you on? Toying with your feelings? Had you over-thought his actions?

You groaned, frustrated at the endless loop of questions in your head. With some new found anger, you stepped out of the shower and started your care routine. You kind of missed having a normal person routine as much as you despised how much effort it took to make yourself deemed socially presentable. Fortunately, your journey to work was uneventful. You did your best to avoid crowded areas, mostly keeping your eye out for Leon. You were not ready to face Leon, knowing that you’d freeze up immediately. You were trying to lay low, keep yourself from being too suspicious.

“What are we looking at?”

Fuck.

You jumped through your skin, nearly having a heart attack. You spun around abruptly, having been face to face with the very person you’d been trying to avoid. You stood there, frozen and mouth agape and you tried to muster up a coherent sentence to speak.

Once he realized you were struggling, Leon popped his brow, “No hello?”

“Hello?”

Leon nodded, slowly, “Hi. So, how’ve you-”

“Um, I gotta go!” And, you sprinted towards your office, leaving Leon staring confused at your retreating figure.

You spent the next few days avoiding Leon like that by running into the bathrooms whenever he passed in the hall, ducking under the table if you both decided to go into the food hall, and sitting on the opposite side of the table in the briefing room for mandatory meetings. You didn’t care if you were blatantly obvious that you were avoiding Leon. You knew he was smart enough to know that, but you weren’t ready to confront him. Thankfully, Leon hadn’t pushed you to meet with him, but he did send you many concerned glances whenever you both were in close vicinity. Until today, at least, when a light knock on your doorframe took you out of your work.

“I thought you said you were leaving early today, Poppy.”

“She did leave.”

Your head snapped up, “Agent Kennedy-”

“Oh so, it’s agent now?” Leon questioned, welcoming himself into your office and closing the door behind him. His eyes narrowed and expression stern, indicating that he was fully serious. Admittingly, he played into your game for a while, but he grew tired of you running away. He too wanted answers to his questions.

You looked away, not liking the way your heart ached when he looked at you with that condescending expression on his face. It made you feel like you disappointed him, “This isn’t very work appropriate.”

“Is there something wrong with co-workers visiting each other?” Leon questioned, sitting himself in your guest chair.

You countered, “It’s after work hours.”

“That hasn’t stopped us before, has it?”

You bit your lip, having no rebuttal against him. Silence cloaked the room as the both of you waited for someone to say something. When he knew that you weren’t willing to give a response, Leon pushed the conversation.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Leon stated blandly, “Why is that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Leon spat, “I’ve seen you run into bathrooms, hide under furniture, and make up lame excuses whenever I’m around. What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing, you don’t have to worry about it,” You buried your face in your hands, already feeling a headache forming from the result of a long day, “Please, Leon, just-”

“What happened to Agent Kennedy?” Leon sassed, his tone indicating that he was choosing to be petty.

You groaned, “Please, don’t make this any harder for me.”

“And, you don’t think it’s hard for me as well?”

You scoffed, “Why would it be hard for you?”

Leon pressed, “Because the person I’m fucking is avoiding me like I still have Las Plagas.”

“So, is that what I am?” You laughed in disbelief, “Just someone to fuck?”

“Isn’t that what we agreed on?” Leon grimaced at his own words, but continued to stand his ground.

“We didn’t agree on anything, Leon. Shit just happened.”

“And what about now? What changed?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. One moment we’re no strings attached and the next moment we’re eating pizza like we’re a couple. You confuse me, Leon. You lead me on, and I don’t know how to feel about you,” You took deep breaths, trying your best not to overreact or become too emotional, but you were failing.

“And, how do you feel about me?”

“For fucks sake,” And, you snapped, “I love you, Leon! Can’t you fucking see that!?”

The cloak of silence engulfed you two again, only the sounds of your ragged breathing piercing through the air. As you caught Leon’s eyes for the first time, you finally broke down with that familiar lump in your throat and blur in your eyes.

“And, I’m fucking heartbroken sitting here infront of you, acting like everything’s okay when it’s not. I feel like my heart is ripping out of my chest, because I confessed my love for you and you don’t feel the same,” You sniffled, trying your best to hold your tears back as they trailed down your face.

“You confessed to me? When?” Leon questioned in disbelief.

“When you came back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me make this easy for you then,” You paused, “Who’s Ada?”

Leon’s eyes widened, jaw slightly slacking. He didn’t answer you, just staring at you as he internally debated what was the best answer. But, he didn’t know what to say to you and even more so what to say to himself.

You purse your lips, wiping away your last tears before confidently speaking, “Exactly, so until you figure out your feelings, please don’t talk to me.”

…..

It’s been two weeks since you and Leon last talked – or rather interacted. There were no longer any lingering looks, no hiding behind furniture, and no running into bathrooms. It wasn’t an effort to stay out of each other's lives anymore, it rather came naturally as you both had differing missions. During your time apart, you took much time to think for yourself – healthily at that – and unravel the situation. Beneficially, you were doing slightly better than before such as eating more and sleeping more. But ultimately, Leon was still on your mind 24/7. And, being invited to the President’s gala dedicated towards rewarding and celebrating the researchers and agents who contributed to saving Ashley did you no justice in keeping your mind off Leon.

“Doing okay?” Poppy found you sitting alone in the corner with a large glass of champagne.

“Yeah, just taking a break,” You sighed, craning your neck to loosen up the tense muscles, “I don’t know how much longer I can take people coming up to thank me or tell me how great my research is.”

Poppy laughed, popping some of the table candy into her mouth, “What? Don’t like being the center of attention?”

You itched at your face, skin feeling heavy with the makeup that covered your dark circles, “Not when I have to dress up and act prim and proper all the time. Like, could we have not done this in an email or something?”

Poppy took her flute of champagne and gently tapped the rim against yours, “Cheers to that, I could be home watching TV.”

You both shot back your drinks, relishing in the sweet flavor and bubbly texture. You and Poppy chatted for a moment before she was taken away to meet more people, leaving you back in your lonely corner. Eventually, after sitting for a while, you became bored, having already met with most people or just on low energy in general. You didn’t want to take another flute of champagne, fearful that it’d make you more sluggish than you already were, so you motivated yourself to make your way to the snack table and hoped that something citrus-y could wake you up.

Just as you were about to grab a scoop from the fruit bowl, a voice from behind you caught your attention, “Hey! You’re the agent that discovered that I got kidnapped, right?”

Turning around, you came face to face with Ashley, “I had a bit of help.”

“Thanks, you saved my life,” Ashley smiled, hugging you with appreciation before taking your hand and dragging you towards another part of the gala, “Hey, let me introduce you to my dad!”

“Actually-”

You tried to protest, but you already found yourself face to face with the President.

“Ashley! So, that’s where you ran off to. Who’s this?”

You turned towards the man, body instantly stiffening with formality, “Mr. President.”

Ashley smiled, “This is the agent that discovered that I got kidnapped.”

The President gave you a nod, “Thank you for saving my daughter.”

Feeling awkward in the presence of such high authority, you just smiled and fiddled with your empty fingers. Before you could excuse yourself, Ashley perked up, “Dad look! It’s Leon!”

Fuck. Just what you needed.

The President turned towards Leon and gave him a firm handshake with much more adoration and affection than what he gave you, “I knew I could count on you, Leon. You’re a valuable asset.”

You and Leon connected eyes for a brief moment, his eyes lingering before Leon focused his attention back to the President and acknowledged his words, “I couldn’t have succeeded without my partner.”

Leon and the President continued chatting as you stood there silently, thoughts about your fruit bowl long gone. You choked at Leon’s words, definitely knowing that he was referring to you but not directly. It’s been so long since you’ve heard Leon’s voice and seen Leon’s face, all of your progress of moving on fell back to ground level as your heart longed for him. You stood there awkwardly, having felt like you were very out of place. You were zoned out for most of the conversation or at least until you noticed Ashley inching closer towards Leon. Her laughter was louder, more forced as she clung on Leon’s arm. She pressed herself up against him, causing a sickening feeling to brew in your stomach. But that feeling was nothing compared to seeing Leon do nothing to brush off Ashley from his side.

At this moment, you were glad you never touched the fruit bowl, knowing that it would’ve come up from your front seat view of Leon and Ashley. Unfortunately, the heaps of alcohol were starting to get to you as nausea and fatigue washed over your consciousness. Picking up a glass of water from a passing staff member, you took a few heavy gulps before inserting yourself back into the conversation, “Please excuse me.”

For the most part, you were ignored which you didn’t mind too much, having been able to slip away unnoticed. Briskly walking out of the main room, you found yourself stumbling through long halls, almost identical to the last before somehow locating a low leveled balcony overlooking a large open field of grass and garden. You untangled the curtains and softly closed the elegant door behind you, shielding yourself into isolation as you walked towards the balcony’s edge and leaning your hip against the cold stone. Looking out into the night, you sighed a breath of relief as the rush of cool air enveloped your flushed body.

You lost track of time staring at the stars above you, drunk thoughts floating through your mind. Specifically, thoughts about Leon, then Leon and Ashley, and then Leon and you – or rather Leon without you. At this point, you hated how your thoughts were consumed by him, almost like your entire life revolved around him. You wondered, how did you get yourself to this point?

Groaning in frustration, you fished out a spare cigarette and lighter from your person, pressing the soft paper between your lips and reaching up to light the tip. You rotated the gears of the lighter to ignite a flame; however, the cool breeze of the night prevented the flame from growing high enough. You cursed, trying again and again, but to no avail – until a large hand helped enclose your cigarette and block the wind from extinguishing your flame. You followed the hand’s owner, surprised to see Leon standing before you, having no conclusion on how he made it past the balcony doors without you noticing or hearing him.

You slacked your lips, letting the cigarette slightly fall just enough to let you speak, “I thought you didn’t like smokers.”

“You only smoke when you’re stressed,” Leon shrugged, still cupping his hand near your cigarette.

You didn’t comment, lighting your cigarette and sheathing your lighter. You took a long, deep breath before blowing out the smoke in the opposite direction where Leon stood. For a moment, you did debate whether to blow smoke in his face, but you weren’t that petty. Yet.

“Long night, I guess.”

“Yeah, same,” Leon scrunched his brows, referring to these awful parties that always praised the small number of agents and soldiers that were lucky enough to return home to their families.

Deciding to act civilized, you lightly chuckled, flicking the ashes off your cigarette, “Not enjoying the spotlight, hero boy?”

“Can’t say I do this often.”

You didn’t reply and found no need to keep the conversation going. Maybe it was awkward, but the smell of nicotine helped ease your nerves. You enjoyed watching the smoke as it dissipated into the night air, only to be blown away by the gentle breeze which made you and the garden bushes shiver.

You heard Leon rustling before a bit of heavy weight landed on your shoulders and the residual warmth engulfed your arms and torso. Stubbing out your cigarette, you blow out one last drag before looking over at Leon in his button up and instinctively gripping his jacket around you tighter. You usually brought your own jackets to these kinds of events, but you didn’t expect to run and hide outside for this long.

“Kenn-”

“Keep it, you’re cold,” Leon leaned up against the balcony, “And, call me Leon.”

You didn’t know how to answer him, so you chose not to. You didn’t feel like you could be personal with him, at least not anytime soon.

Noticing your lack of interaction, Leon piped up, “So, what’s on your mind?”

You cringed at the question, shrugging through his jacket, “Things.”

“Like?”

“Personal things.”

Another blanket of silence covered you both, but this time, it was definitely awkward as you no longer had your smoke to distract you with.

“You-”

“I’m-”

You purse your lips, “Sorry, you go first.”

“Please, I insist.”

For the first time since he came out, you and Leon made eye contact as you both tried to read each other's emotions. You debated whether or not to say anything to him, knowing that you had weeks of pent up emotions and unresolved tension. Thinking about Poppy, voices about weighing your pros and cons came back to mind. Pros with talking with Leon were gaining yourself a sense of conclusion, whereas the cons were getting your heart broken – again. Somewhere along the line of thinking, your heart must’ve made the decision for you, throwing logic completely out the question. While gazing into his blue eyes, your pupils shook, causing you to close your eyes and take a deep breath for confidence.

With a small and broken voice, you softly spoke in a volume borderline inaudible, “You can’t- you can’t keep doing this to me, Leon.”

Leon pinched his eyes closed, almost like he was in physical pain, “I know.”

“You’re hurting me,” Your voice quivered.

“I know.”

“I’m confused at your words and actions.”

“I know.”

“And, this whole time I feel like I’ve just been used.”

“I know.”

Suddenly, you grit your teeth in frustration and throwing his jacket off your shoulders, “Fuck, Leon, can you say anything besides I know!?”

You didn’t mean to shout at him, but it just came out like that. You really shouldn’t have yelled. You were never the type to speak out from emotions anyways. Plus, you didn’t need to draw attention to yourselves had there been any unseen party goers straggling in the hallway.

Watching Leon frown from your outburst made your heart ache before his eyes shifted towards something sympathetic. He shifted closer towards you, picking up his jacket and fixing it back on you before placing a warm hand over yours, “I’ve figured out my feelings.”

Tears flooded your vision as the air in your lungs crushed your chest. It didn’t matter what Leon’s answer was, you just weren’t ready to hear it, so you did the first thing that came to mind. You ran away, “No, no, no, don’t do this to me right now, please. I can’t do this anymore, just leave me alone, please.”

With his lightning reaction, Leon caught you by the arms and stopped you halfway towards the door. His grip was strong enough to hug you comfortably in his chest, but nowhere near tight enough to be painful or uncomfortable. Still, you pathetically fought against him, weakly slapping his upper chest; although, a part of you really didn't want him to let you go.

Leon hugged you tighter, holding you closely and consoled your hysterics the best he could, “Shh, baby please, just let me explain.”

You halted your struggling, “Let go of me.”

"You don't mean it," Leon shook his head, "I don't believe you."

"Le-"

“Damn it, Y/N!”

Leon's abrupt outburst killed whatever thought you had and silenced you into submission. Of all the years you've known him, never once has he ever raised his voice at you nor looked at you with such passionate eyes blazing with equal parts frustration and determination.

“I will tell you everything, okay? Ask me anything you want, I’ll give you only the truth. I just want to talk to you, please?”

He continued when you didn't answer him.

“I don’t want to leave you like this, but if you decide that you don’t like my answers or that you don’t like me, just say the word and everything we’ve ever had stops,” Leon looked down at you hopeful, releasing his hold as a sign that he trusts you not to dash away. Instead, he fixed his jacket around you as you didn't realize it was halfway down your torso.

"Deal?" Leon said.

Hesitantly, you nodded. Maybe it was his change in demeanor or thoughtful speech or the smell of his cologne engulfing you – whatever it was, you were compelled to accept the temptations of a devil. And yours was Leon and his sparkling eyes under the moonlit sky.

“Say it, please,” His tone returned back to a soft and gentle level as he cupped your face with one hand and brushed your bottom lip with his thumb.

You gulped nervously, yet determined for answers, “You have one minute.”

Leon let out a sigh of relief before flashing a small, crooked smile and thanking you for giving him a chance.

“Ada was someone I met at Raccoon City. We spent a bit of time together, trying to get to Umbrella’s underground lab. She kissed me, but we had our differences and ended up parting ways.”

“Differences?” You perked.

“I wanted to save the people, but she didn’t," It was a simple answer, but Leon didn't have time to elaborate while on your timer, “Then, I met Ada in Spain.”

"Wait," You paused and rewound the storyline, “I thought only you and Claire survived.”

Leon nodded with a far off look on his face as he reminisced his old days, “I thought so too, I don’t even know how she’s alive or what she’s doing, but she was in Spain.”

“Leon, why didn’t you tell us? She could be dangerous, she could’ve been working for Los Illuminados!” You scolded with a deep frown, wondering how he could've trusted someone like that.

“No, she isn’t," Leon denied, "She’s working for someone else though, I don’t know who.”

Getting sick of talking about Ada and nearing the end of your minute, you jabbed, “I’m failing to see how this involves me.”

“This involves you, because I can’t get you out of my mind! At first, I thought it was all physical, and that was okay with me. But, we started working on more projects together, and I could finally see you for who you are. Like how intelligent you are in the meeting rooms, how your eyes crinkle when you smile at Poppy, and how you always look at me with your sparkling eyes. I didn’t even know when I started falling for you. I looked forward to seeing you every Friday, even if nothing were to happen, I still wanted your company. I wanted to see you for as long as I could, so that’s why I started visiting your office more, inviting you out more, figuring out your likes and dislikes. God, I’m so fucking obsessed with you.”

Without realizing, Leon caged you against the balcony with his hands on either side of your hips and drew soft circles. He ghosted his lips on the nape of your neck before following the shell of your ear and whispered, “‘I’m so fucking obsessed with you, when I look at you I create a future with us. Just me and you, and maybe some little ones later if you wanted.”

You sighed in pleasure as you responded to his kisses, one leg instinctively hooking around his thigh as to bring him closer to you. Leon accepted your beckoning and closed the gap between each other's chests. Face to face, you could feel his breath on your lips as he laid his forehead on yours. There was barely anything keeping you from kissing each other, something you two had never done before while hooking up as it seemed too intimate for friends with benefits to do.

Looking into his eyes, you didn't need to ask if he were sincere. You could see all of him already, and he made sure you knew that he was willing to be a hundred percent and more vulnerable. While observing, you noticed how his eyes darted between yours frantically and how his Adam's apple bobbed in a nervous gulp. You were taking too long to answer.

“Why are you so scared?” You asked gently, placing a hand on his cheek.

He nuzzled into your touch, “I’m scared of hurting you. I didn’t know if I would come back from that mission. I made a promise that I didn’t even know if I could keep.”

“You came back,” You explained, now calm and confident as you said, “That’s all that matters.”

Leon's eyes lit up in delight with a breath of relief. Without any warning, Leon’s lips were all over your face, kissing your cheeks, temple, and forehead. You shied back, embarrassed from his affection. He must’ve known this as well, smirking from seeing the blush surfaced on your cheeks. Palm facing outwards, you partially blocked your face as you looked away, “Don’t look at me.”

“You look beautiful,” Leon gently removed your guarding hand and held it in his with a comforting caress before taking his other hand to guide your chin back to lock eyes, “Can I kiss you again?”

You didn’t answer him with words, opting to crane your neck forward and pressing your lips onto his. Without hesitation, Leon melted into your kiss by sliding the hand on your chin along your jawline and adjusting your angle to deepen the kiss. Arching your back, you circled your arms around his broad shoulders. Leon’s hands moved back to your hips, effortlessly propping you to sit on the balcony’s edge. You gasped in pleasure as you wrapped your legs around Leon’s hips, feeling him pressed against your core. Leon pulled you closer, teasingly grinding his hips against yours.

“Leon!” You hissed, slapping his chest, “We’re at a party. We-”

“- could get caught?” Leon pulled back with a smirk, “Don’t be loud then.”

You scolded him to which he laughed joyously. As much as you were annoyed with his antics, you knew that you’d never be able to forget how big his smile was and how happy he looked with you in his arms. So, you laughed with him with a large smile on your face as well, feeling the most safe and comfortable in this moment.

He held you closely, listening to the beat of his heart, "As much as I want to take you right now, I want us to take it slow. There's so much I want to show how I can treat you. Until then, let's wait until we're both ready."

…..

Leon had gone out of his way to make you feel like you were his world. Every morning, he’d send you a short message even if it were just a hello. If you had time before work, he’d meet you at your apartment and take you out for a quick breakfast before heading to the office. If you happened to be running late, Leon still made sure to drop off your favorite drink before carrying out his own responsibilities. During lunch, Leon would sit extra close to you, enough to indicate to onlookers that something was brewing between the two of you, but distant enough to not make anyone feel uncomfortable. After work, Leon took you out for dinner or walked you home if you were feeling particularly tired. This new found routine eventually became a lifestyle. Leon attended to all your needs and took extra care of you. Although sex with Leon was no doubt amazing, you both found solace in the emotional comfort and companionship. That is until one day you invited Leon over to bake cookies for Poppy’s birthday.

“There’s eggshells in the mix, Leon.”

“Leon, you didn’t turn on the oven.”

“Don’t eat the chocolate, Leon!”

“Leon! How did you get flour in your hair?”

You sighed, realizing a bit too late that the flawless Leon Kennedy actually did not have a knack for cooking. Leon blushed with embarrassment, wiping the back of his hand on his forehead and thus smearing more flour on his messy face. Putting your batch of the cookies in the oven, you glided over towards Leon to brush his face clean before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, "Just get cleaned up, 'kay?

Leon nodded sheepishly, heading over towards your bathroom and showering while the cookies baked. With only your batch of cookies surviving the mixing phase, you modified the recipe to make mini cookies instead. Thankfully, they were done and set to cool by the time you finished cleaning up. Realizing your clothes were dusted with flour, you made your way to your closet to change into one of Leon’s large t-shirts. Just as the shirt draped over your body, Leon entered with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and water still dripping down his glistening chest.

“It’s rude to stare you know,” Leon teased, stretching his bicep on display as he toweled his hair.

You shuffled your way over to him, teasingly drawing your fingers along the skin of his exposed hipline, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Leon laughed before sneaking his hands under your thighs and propping you on top of your dresser, “You look good in my clothes. I don’t know how much longer I can resist you.”

You knew Leon liked to tease you, having gotten used to his sly comments by now. But, you’d been waiting so long since you’ve last had him in you, having Leon barely naked in front of you awoke the desires you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Rubbing your hands along his damp biceps, you trailed your hands all over his chest and up to hold his jawline and bring him in for a deep kiss. You broke the kiss, “Then don’t resist.”

Leon went to protest, probably about to spew some nonsense about waiting for the right time or wanting it to be a special moment, but you’d already forgiven him and any moment with Leon felt special to you. You hushed him impatiently, “Shut up and fuck me or I’ll do it myself.”

You knew you won by his stern set features and darkening eyes, knowing that Leon always hated you pleasuring yourself without his assistance, “Like hell you will.”

Without warning, Leon picked you up again and headed towards your bed, tossing you onto the mattress with a small bounce. You yelped, half in surprise and half in excitement as you tried to sit up; however, Leon stopped you by crawling over your lower body and pining your wrists above your head, “You wanna say that again?”

You tilted your head not-so-innocently, “Say what again, Leon?”

With his free hand, Leon wrapped it around your neck and added a small amount of pressure as a warning, “Don’t test me.”

You licked your lips, absolutely loving Leon’s change in demeanor. Sometimes, it was too easy to rile him up, “I said, shut up and fuck me or I’ll do it myself.”

Silence fell between you two as you challenged each other to break first. After a couple moments, you started to believe that maybe you said something wrong by the way Leon had yet to respond or react to you. But this sliver of doubt you held was just enough for Leon to play right into your vulnerability. And with a sly smile, Leon flipped you on your stomach and repositioned your hands to grip a pole on your metal headboard, “Let go and this all stops, do you understand?”

“Wha-”

Your question was interrupted as Leon released your wrists, bundled his shirt towards your shoulder blades, and lightly smacked your ass. You jolted with a gasp, fingers tightening around the pole. You heard Leon throw something, probably getting rid of his towel. You hated that you couldn’t tell what he was doing nor could you see him in his glory, but that added towards the excitement of it all as you guessed what you were going to feel and experience next. Leon hovered above you, lips ghosting around the shell of your ear, “I don’t repeat myself, love.”

You clenched at the pet name, whimpering from the ache between your legs. You felt Leon smirk against your skin as he pressed kisses all around your neck and shoulder. He paused to take a pillow and place it comfortably under your pelvis to prop your hips higher for him. Taking a shaky breath in, you readjusted your fingers to grip the pole even tighter than before, “I understand.”

There was a lack of response as the weight of Leon’s body disappeared, leaving you wondering what was to come next. Through all of Leon’s previous training, he’s perfected stealth movements. No matter how much you closed your eyes to concentrate on focusing, you were well aware that Leon had the ability to exit the room without you even noticing. It felt like forever as your breathing became labored even if you hadn’t moved. The anticipation was killing you, inside and out. Just as you were about to question him, a small pop adjacent to the sound of a bottle opening pierced the air before what sounded like a glop of substance was squeezed out and rubbed between Leon’s hands. You stayed silent, letting your imagination guide you as Leon’s hands finally touched your body. He started at your shoulders, massaging small, pressured circles into the tense muscles. Once he felt you relax against him, Leon moved to give the same treatment along your back, waist, and hips. Although he wasn’t pleasing you sexually, Leon’s hands still felt euphoric as he trailed his hands along your bodyline.

Suddenly, he stopped at your ass, squirting some more oil onto his hands before gripping the flesh and spreading you apart. Instinctually, you buried your face into the sheets and spread your legs as you felt Leon’s lingering eyes on you. Slipping a thumb forward, Leon swiped up and down your pussy lips, “So wet and I haven’t touched you yet.”

You grit your teeth, “Don’t tease me.”

Without warning, Leon slipped his thumb in fully, rubbing against your inner walls as you mewled out in response, “You asked for that.”

“Asshole,” You muttered, still trying to adjust to him. Sure you were no stranger to having Leon’s fingers buried in you; however, it’s been so long since you’ve stretched yourself out.

Leon chose to ignore you, finding your twitching lips more entertaining than your false resistance. He’d gotten used to it by now anyways. Leon explored your tight cunt a little more with his thumb before releasing his hold on you, “Guess we’ll have to do this the long way, not that I mind.”

You heard Leon shuffle before his soft, wet lips connected with your pussy lips. Licking and sucking, Leon teased and abused your already swollen clit. For extra lubrication, Leon spit on you before shoving his tongue into your awaiting hole, causing you to lurch forward. You moaned out his name as he quickly brought his hands up to hold your hips stable. From the lack of sexual activity, you were surprised to find yourself so sensitive to his licks and unable to hold yourself still for him. It was almost like this was your first time getting eaten out.

Your thoughts clouded as Leon pushed his face deeper into you, tongue stretching beyond your tight rim as he fucked you. Shuddering with pleasure, you started to gain a sense of control as you rocked your hips back to push him deeper into you. But just as you did so, Leon retracted his tongue and replaced it with two of his fingers as his lips returned back to your clit. You cried out, confused at how Leon's fingers could make you feel this way when you knew his dick in you would feel even better. Had you gone without him for too long?

You didn't get a chance to dwell much longer as Leon's long fingers curled up and brushed your pleasure point, causing you to cry out even more and subconsciously releasing one of your hands. Leon immediately noticed this, "Calling quits already? I never knew you were so weak."

You hissed out in annoyance which quickly changed into pleasure as Leon continued fingering deeper into you. The way he pumped in and out of you, foamed up your sticky consistency as it dripped all over his hand. With your limited vision, the audio of your wet squelching intensified as Leon quickened his pace.

“Ready for three?”

Leon didn’t wait for an answer before adding another finger into you. At this point, your legs were quivering with delight, barely being strong enough to hold you up. Just as he rubbed your most sensitive part, your legs twitched harshly causing you to give out and slump back into the bed and pillow. Without missing a beat, Leon continued fingering you as his other hand rubbed small circles around your clit. Your moans intensified, legs still shaking from the double pleasuring sensation.

“Wait- Leon- ngh-”

You tried taking deep breaths to calm yourself, but you knew your climax was coming despite the efforts to prolong it. Leon seemed to know this as well as he – again – increased his speed and skill. He shushed you, prompting you to climax, “Come on, love, I know you can do it. Just let go, I promise to give you more. Just give yourself to me.”

Instantly, you clenched around him, feeling yourself cum around the bundle of his fingers as he helped you ride it out. Your loud moans transitioned to deep gasps as you took a moment to catch your breath. Leon flipped you over, giving you a chaste kiss, “Still doing okay?”

“Yes,” You breathed, “Can I let go now?”

You looked up at Leon with a pleading look. Leon debated for a moment before obliging, knowing that your arms must’ve started feeling sore by now, “Fine, but keep your eyes on me. I want to see your face when you cum on me this time.”

You looked away, embarrassed. Leon chuckled, finding your reaction adorable as he took the initiative to pump himself and slide his tip along your super sensitive clit. Leon pushed himself into you with a vice grip on your hips, groaning from how wet you still were, “I should’ve fucked you sooner.”

Before he could fully bottom out, you’d already lifted your hips to indicate to him to start thrusting into you; however, Leon did the exact opposite as he pulled back out just to fuck his tip into you over and over again, “Impatient are we? What’s the rush? We’ve got all night.”

Having enough with his constant teasing, you mustered all your strength to push Leon back as you straddled him with your hands firmly in his toned chest. Power surged through your veins as Leon surrendered himself beneath you. Although you know Leon could easily overpower you and that he probably let you turn the tables on him for his own entertainment, you let your ego fuel your confidence as you took his hardened dick into your hand and guided him inside you as you sank downwards.

You watched as Leon’s face contorted with pleasure, trying his best to contain his reaction despite how good you felt engulfing him with your hot walls. Rocking up and down slowly, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I told you to shut up or I’ll do it myself.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders to hold your weight, you thrust your hips along his shaft, pumping him from tip to balls. Leon’s groans grew louder as he put his hands on your hips to help you increase your speed. With the support of Leon, you postured back up and used your body weight to slam down onto his dick, feeling him reach the deepest depths of you. Your pussy clenched around him, throwing your head back from the pleasure.

A smack to your ass shifted your attention back to Leon as he scowled at you, “I told you to keep your eyes on me.”

Rolling your eyes, you continued to ride him without answering him. Undoubtedly, Leon glared at you, pushing you off of him and pining you back down into missionary, “You asked for it, hope you're ready.”

You went to call out his bluff; however, Leon thrusted himself fully into you. You cried out from the fullness, unsuspecting that Leon would enter so roughly into you. But your clenching cunt revealed that you secretly enjoyed how rough he was with you. With that in mind, Leon thrusted roughly into you, pushing your body higher and higher upon the mattress. Leon intertwined his hands in yours, pinning you down in place as he pounded himself deeper into you. Usually, Leon focuses on the sight of you swallowing him whole, watching as his shaft disappears into you and reappears wetter than before. However, as Leon slammed his hips into yours and elicited deafening skin slapping audio, he was solely focused on you, reading every passing emotion across your face. He was studying you, figuring out what you liked versus what you loved. He’d try different angles, watching and listening to your reactions and changing his technique accordingly. He kept at it until a single harsh thrust had you tightening against his cock, gripped his hands, and moaning out his name. With that information, Leon smiled and monopolized his findings as he fixated on hitting your g-spot repeatedly, “Gotcha.”

Leon pounded into you, harsher and deeper than before as he chased his own high. He guided you, telling you when to wait, so that you could both cum together. You struggled to keep your eyes open from how much stimulation you were receiving. But the look in Leon’s eyes convinced you to keep yours open.

“I’m almost, fuck, I’m almost done,” Leon’s thrusts became sloppy, yet still hitting you where you needed him.

You chanted his name over and over as you began to cum for the second time, “Please- I-”

Without releasing your hands, Leon pumped into you one last time before pulling out and squirting his cum over your lower abdomen. Leon muttered a few curses before lazily falling next to you and kissing you. Leon helped you take off his shirt and wipe his cum off of you, throwing it somewhere on the floor before pulling you closer to him and burying himself in the crook of your neck. You receive his cuddles, lacing your fingers into his messy, damp hair. Leon kissed your neck up to your lips, “Doing okay?”

You nodded with a soft smile, “Help me to the bathroom?”

Leon obliged, lifting you up and placing you in the bathtub to share a bath together. Soaking in the warm water, your back rested against his chest. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder as he wrapped his large arms around your midsection like you’d disappear any second, “Leon?”

He kissed your shoulder, “Yes?”

“Do you love me?” You asked shyly.

Leon chuckled, holding you tighter against him, “Of course, I love you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You kissed him again, “Good, because I love you too.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy oneshot #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut

476 notes · View notes

impactedfates · 8 months

Note

Can you do imbibitor lunar! Dan heng x troublemaker! GN! Child reader? (Platonic)

Dan heng was supposed to babysit the reader but the reader is a little bit a trouble maker.. The reader has a soft spot for Dan heng lololo

A/N: Hihi :D I’ve returned!! Sorry for leaving for so long, but I should be able to get back to writing!! Requests are still closed for now, once all my current requests are finished and maybe some short fics and/or scenarios are written I'll open them up again. Thank you anon for the request!! And thank you for being patient with me to write this, I hope you'll enjoy this :>>

W.C: 1692

Warnings: None (I hope - Not fully proofread but I’ll fix anything once I’m back from school Ü)

Extra: Dan Heng is in his Vidyadhara form // Child reader so ofc is younger and shorter then most characters // Trailblazer is whoever you want it to be lol // Reader has been babysat for awhile by the Express (specifically Dan Heng) but now lives with the express in the fic

“[Name]!! Get down from that…NO DON’T J U M P”

March let out a small groan as she ran and stopped you from trying to jump off the fridge. She sighed and shook her head at you.

“Just what would Dan Heng think about this”

You stook out your tongue at the tired girl as she carefully put you down. Shaking her head. You were a new member of the Express family, Dan Heng had found you hiding when he was walking around Scalegorge Waterscape. And you seemed to cling to him, always hugging his tail. He doesn’t say no to it but he is surprised you seem to like him so much.

The Express like you as well!...Expect you seem to only like Dan Heng…especially when he’s in his Imbibitor Lunae form, not to say you don’t like him when he’s in his regular form, but you seem a LOT more attached when he lets you cling onto his tail.

It’s obvious to all the express (except Dan Heng it would seem) that you won’t listen to anyone but him, and on one hand it can be cute, on the other hand…it can be painful.

“[Name] All I said was that you couldn’t eat ice-cream for breakfast…it is not healthy whatsoever!”

March explained, puffing her cheeks, though maybe she shouldn’t say anything as she herself tried eating ice-cream for breakfast.

“Who’s trying to eat ice-cream for breakfast?”

A tired voice came, as Dan Heng came walking in, rubbing his eyes as he had just woken from sleep, his long hair tied back. After you joined he seemed to be in this form more often, for different reasons, one of them being you refused to sleep unless his tail was your blanket.

“[Name] is! Dan Heng tell them they cannot have it, and we’re saving it for tonight!!”

“[Name], Himeko bought them so we can have them to eat for movie night later tonight…plus having ice-cream for breakfast isn’t healthy y’know”

Dan Heng spoke gently, crouching down to your level, March stood behind him with a victorious grin. She knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to him…and she was right, you pouted a bit and looked away, crossing your arms, mumbling out an annoyed and reluctant.

“Fine.”

“[Name] sweetheart, please give that ba-”

*C R A S H*

Yet another mug belonging to Himeko broke right in front of her eyes. She silently mourned the mug, taking a small deep breath and looked at you.

“Y’know…your auntie Himeko liked that mug a lot sweetie…”

She spoke, gesturing to herself, but you simply stook out your tongue at her, about to reach over and knock over ANOTHER mug, this time belonging to Welt. Himeko was quick to swoop you away from it and caught the mug from making another loud noise. She placed it on a higher shelf, away from your reach even if you climbed and despite your thrashing, moved you on the Express couch.

“I heard a loud crash, is everything alright?”

Dan Heng called out, walking in, spotting the broken mug on the floor, his eyes softened and looked at Himeko apologetically.

“That was your favourite mug…wasn’t it?”

“Yep…”

She sighed, shaking her head disappointedly. Dan Heng was quick to grab a broom and start cleaning the broken shards, Himeko smiled at his gesture and began ruffling his head as if he was a child.

“Himeko…”

*C R A S H*

Himeko froze and her head snapped towards the source of the sound, the direction of your very own bedroom. You had seemingly left quickly when Dan Heng and Himeko were chatting and now you seemed to have broken yet another thing, you came waltzing in with a bunch of credits in your hand, lifting them up to Himeko, and with puppy eyes said.

“I’m sorry auntie, here. You can buy another one!”

Himeko smiled softly at you and shook her head, carefully taking the credits from your hand. Although you probably only ran to your piggy bank (assuming that’s what you broke for the credits) because Dan Heng entered, she could tell you did feel sorry upon hearing it was her favourite mug.

“It’s okay sweetie…just…try not to do it again”

You smiled and nodded. Promising her you won’t do it again…if you couldn’t actually keep that promise, she wasn’t sure. And she was sure you weren’t sure either but. She’d forgive you again in a heartbeat if she’s being honest.

Welt stared blankly at your wall, the wall that had now been decorated with some of his artwork…his artwork that had been torn up and collaged up without his permission.

“[Name]...what…is this?”

He spoke, pushing up his glasses as he closed as his eyes narrowed, darting at each page, clearly with a rip. Though he will admit that the collage…was pretty nice. Just…he wished it wasn’t from one of his sketchbooks, old or not.

“Art”

You said proudly, and sure…you weren’t technically wrong. Welt simply sighed and shook his head, crouching down to your level and carefully explained to you that you shouldn’t take things without people's permission. It isn’t nice.

You tilted your head and grinned, before grabbing his sketch book from your bed, looking him straight in the eye…you did ask but you did it while…ripping the page in the process. Welt could only pinch his nose in slight irritation…until the door to your door opened and his sketchbook was thrown behind your bed as you looked at whoever entered innocently.

“Big Brother! Look what I made”

“Huh? Oh…looks nice [Name]”

Dan Heng spoke, his eyes looking at the wall before it noticed Welt, he turned to face you with a concerned expression.

“Did you…ask Mr Welt if you could use his things?”

“Well no…”

“[Name], next time ask, Mr Welt really treasures his drawings”

You simply nodded with a small pout, honestly you thought it was an old sketchbook Welt didn’t care about…but hey. You still got a compliment from Dan Heng right? Welt could only hope you’d listen now that Dan Heng told you.

“Did you both really just go hunting in trash?”

Dan Hen asked with a deadpan, looking at you and the trailblazer, now filthy. You giggled a bit, scratching the back of your head. As the trailblazer was quick to defend themselves.

“THIS TIME…this time it wasn’t me, believe me. This one right here jumped into the dumpster first, so I jumped in to get them. Then I tried to catch them but they kept…SWIMMING?? Around in the piles of trash…wait can you swim in trash?”

The Vidyadhara put up his hand to silence the grey haired trailblazer, before his eyes glanced at you. Raising an eyebrow, he silently asked if this was true to which you…slowly nodded again, embarrassed. He sighed a bit and rubbed his temples, he was still calm. He simply pointed in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You two, bathe. Now.”

“But-”

“N o w.”

Movie Night! Finally, nothing bad happens. Perhaps that was due to Dan Heng managing to keep you calm and quiet with just his presence. But no one complains, everyones happy enough.

Everyone goes to their own room after they finish up so they could go to bed and get ready for the next mission, but they seem to find something in their room, a gift it would seem?

March's eyes widened a bit as she looked at the new camera that was decorated too! With her family, and a small note near it, reading

‘Thank you big sister!! I know you like photos right? Dan Heng helped me buy this for you, I hope you like it’

March squealed a bit and hugged the camera, thanking you a million times in her head.

Himeko’s eyes landed on an (albeit badly) made mug, decorated with various shades of her favourite colours and writing that she knew instantly was yours.

‘Best Auntie Ever!’

Perhaps she found her new favourite mug already…now for some coffee to pour into it.

Welt flicked through the pages of the new sketch book, only one drawing was made, at the front cover. He recognized your art style and smiled softly as he saw the mini doodles of the Express family and a very angry Pompom.

He grabbed a pencil and began sketching on the first page.

The Trailblazer lifted up the small trash bin pin, they could till it was custom made…I mean who would sell bins of them peaking out a bin?...

But they didn’t care, it was cute. They knew exactly who got it for them too. Carefully they pinned it on their jacket.

Yes you could be a pain for them sometimes, especially if Dan Heng wasn’t there to settle you. But they all cared for you, and just these gifts alone told them that you indeed also cared for them.

“But you helped me with buying them all and writing the words”

You grumbled, crossing your arms as the raven hair tucked you into bed.

“And you were the one who decided AND knew what to get them, additionally it was also your idea”

He speaks, a soft smile painting his lips. He always knew how troublesome you were, from the day he began babysitting you to the day you were allowed to actually live on the express. He knew you only really behaved around him and with the others well, your ‘true colours’ would appear.

It was the others who thought he didn’t know you had a soft spot for him due to him calmly telling you to stop things then going on about his day, but he just knew that all it would take is a few words and you’d do it.

But he also knew you still cared for the rest of your family. Although sure, you had your favourites, you had the one you were most soft for…that won’t change the love and care you have for your other family members. But uh perhaps you should show it a bit better…still though

They were your family.

And you were their family.

Neither of you would change that.

It didn't occur to me until after writing this that the anon could've meant Imbibitor Lunae Dan Heng like Dan Feng, also I didn't exactly write babysitting (I mentioned it) but I wrote it more so as the reader living with the Express family. To the anon who requested this I'm so sorry if I messed it up ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥)‧º·

243 notes · View notes

nalyra-dreaming · 26 days

Note

"... And of course there are some really juicy parts in "The Tale of the Body Thief" that Jacob commented on wanting to do with Sam :) ..."

For people who haven't read books and only watch the series. Can you please tell me what this means? And what was Jacob talking about?

Sure :) "The tale of the Body Thief" deals with Lestat spiraling and deep in depression (which leads to a suicide attempt that fails because he is simply too powerful for the sun to kill him anymore), and being presented a way out, namely a (supposedly temporary) body-switch. Which… everyone warns him not to do, of course, and which he actually does, of course.

Louis and Lestat are… in a weird relationship at that point. They cannot live with each other, but not without each other, and so they live separately, but visit the other regularly. Their own chairs in the other's house, literal "Netflix-and-chill" routines, and so on. They see each other often. Louis of course warns Lestat not do that switch.

(sorry, couldn't indent or quote this, the post wouldn't save, lol)

__________________

"You're out of your mind," Louis said. "Don't be so hasty," I answered.

"You quote this idiot's words to me? Destroy him. Put an end to him. Find him tonight if you can and do away with him." "Louis, for the love of heaven . . ."

"Lestat, this creature can find you at will? That means he knows where you lie. You've led him here now. He knows where I lie. He's the worst conceivable enemy! Mon Dieu, why do you go looking for adversity? Nothing on earth can destroy you now, not even the Children of the Millennia have the combined strength to do it, and not even the sun at midday in the Gobi Desert-so you court the one enemy who has power over you. A mortal man who can walk in the light of day. A man who can achieve complete dominion over you when you yourself are without a spark of consciousness or will. No, destroy him. He's far too dangerous. If I see him, I'll destroy him."

"Louis, this man can give me a human body. Have you listened to anything that I've said."

"Human body! Lestat, you can't become human by simply taking over a human body! You weren't human when you were alive! You were born a monster, and you know it. How the hell can you delude yourself like this."

"I'm going to weep if you don't stop."

"Weep. I'd like to see you weep. I've read a great deal about your weeping in the pages of your books but I've never seen you weep with my own eyes."

"Ah, that makes you out to be a perfect liar," I said furiously. "You described my weeping in your miserable memoir in a scene which we both know did not take place!"

"Lestat, kill this creature! You're mad if you let him come close enough to you to speak three words."

__________________

(This also refers to the contested NOLA meeting right here.) Jacob called their … bickering "petty and in love". They're both not ready yet at that point.

Of course Lestat ignores the warnings and actually does the body switch, and as could be imagined the person takes off with Lestat's immortal body.

Lestat get's sick (as a mortal), and then goes to Louis to ask to be turned, so he can hunt down the thief, which then leads to one of the most raw exchanges (and iirc that power switch is what Jacob would really love to do), because Louis rejects him, though he is mightily tempted.

__________________

"I bare my soul to you and you use it against me!" "Oh, I do not, Lestat. I seek to make you look into it. You are begging me to drive you back to Gretchen. Am I perhaps the only guardian angel? Am I the only one who can confirm this fate?" "You miserable bastard son of a bitch! If you don't give me the blood . . ."

'He turned around, his face like that of a ghost, eyes wide and hideously unnatural in their beauty. "I will not do it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Go back to her, Lestat. Live this mortal life." "How dare you make this choice for me!" I was on my feet again, and finished with whining and begging. "Don't come at me again," he said patiently. "If you do, I shall hurt you. And that I don't wish to do."

"Ah, you've killed me! That's what you've done. You think I believe all your lies! You've condemned me to this rotting, Stinking, aching body, that's what you've done! You think I don't know the depth of hatred in you, the true face of retribution when I see it! For the love of God, speak the truth."

"It isn't the truth. I love you. But you are blind with impatience now, and overwrought with simple aches and pains. It is you who will never forgive me if I rob you of this destiny. Only it will take time for you to see the true meaning of what I've done."

"No, no, please." I came towards him, only this time not in anger. I approached slowly, until I could lay my hands on his shoulders and smell the faint fragrance of dust and the grave that clung to his clothes. Lord God, what was our skin that it drew the light to itself so exquisitely? And our eyes. Ah, to look into his eyes.

"Louis," I said. "I want you to take me. Please, do as I ask you. Leave the interpretations of all my tales to me. Take me, Louis, look at me." I snatched up his cold, lifeless hand and laid it on my face. "Feel the blood in me, feel the heat. You want me, Louis, you know you do. You want me, you want me in your power the way I had you in my power so long, long ago. I'll be your fledgling, your child, Louis. Please, do this. Don't make me beg you on my knees."

I could sense the change in him, the sudden predatory glaze that covered his eyes. But what was stronger than his thirst? His will.

"No, Lestat," he whispered. "I can't do it. Even if I'm wrong and you are right, and all your metaphors are meaningless, I can't do it." I took him in my arms, oh, so cold, so unyielding, this monster which I had made out of human flesh. I pressed my lips against his cheek, shuddering as I did so, my fingers sliding around his neck. He didn't move away from me. He couldn't bring himself to do it. I felt the slow silent heave of his chest against mine.

"Do it to me, please, beautiful one," I whispered in his ear. "Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power that I once gave to you." I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. "Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross."

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. "I can't do it, Lestat."

"You can, you know you can," I whispered, kissing his ear as I spoke to him, choking back the tears, my left arm slipping around his waist. "Oh, don't leave me here in this misery, don't do it."

"Don't beg me anymore," he said sorrowfully. "It's useless. I'm going now. You won't see me again."

"Louis!" I held fast to him. "You can't refuse me." "Ah, but I can and I have."

_________________

…. Lestat burns down Louis' little hut after the refusal in a fit of disappointment and anger after. (Not before saving the paintings in it though coughs)

When Lestat finally gets his body back he meets Louis again in NOLA, in a church. Lestat is bitter, and jaded, Louis is just so relieved to see him.

__________________

We sat there in silence for many long moments, and then he spoke. "You burnt my little house, didn't you?" he asked in a small, vibrant voice.

"Can you blame me?" I asked with a smile, eyes still on the altar. "Besides, I was a human when I did that. It was human weakness. Want to come and live with me?"

"This means you've forgiven me?"

"No, it means I'm playing with you. I may even destroy you for what you did to me. I haven't made up my mind. Aren't you afraid?" "No. If you meant to do away with me, it would already be done."

"Don't be so certain. I'm not myself, and yet I am, and then I am not again."

Long silence, with only the sounds of Mojo breathing hoarsely and deeply in his sleep.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I knew you would win. But I didn't know how."

I didn't answer. But I was suddenly boiling inside. Why were both my virtues and my faults used against me? But what was the use of it-to make accusations, to grab him and shake him and demand answers from him? Maybe it was better not to know.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"I will not," I replied. "Why in the world do you want to know?" Our hushed voices echoed softly in the nave of the church. The wavering light of the candles played upon the gilt on the tops of the columns, on the faces of the distant statues. Oh, I liked it here in this silence and coolness. And in my heart of hearts I had to admit I was so very glad that he had come. Sometimes hate and love serve exactly the same purpose.

I turned and looked at him. He was facing me, one knee drawn up on the pew and his arm resting on the back of it. He was pale as always, an artful glimmer in the dark.

"You were right about the whole experiment," I said. At least my voice was steady, I thought.

"How so?" No meanness in his tone, no challenge, only the subtle desire to know. And what a comfort it was-the sight of his face, and the faint dusty scent of his worn garments, and the breath of fresh rain still clinging to his dark hair.

"What you told me, my dear old friend and lover," I said. "That I didn't really want to be human. That it was a dream, and a dream built upon falsehood and fatuous illusion and pride."

"I can't claim that I understood it," he said. "I don't understand it now."

"Oh, yes, you did. You understand very well. You always have. Maybe you lived long enough; maybe you have always been the stronger one. But you knew. I didn't want the weakness; I didn't want the limitations; I didn't want the revolting needs and the endless vulnerability; I didn't want the drenching sweat or the searing cold. I didn't want the blinding darkness, or the noises that walled up my hearing, or the quick, frantic culmination of erotic passion; I didn't want the trivia; I didn't want the ugliness. I didn't want the isolation; I didn't want the constant fatigue."

"You explained this to me before. There must have been something . . . however small. . . that was good!" "What do you think?" "The light of the sun."

"Precisely. The light of the sun on snow; the light of the sun on water; the light of the sun… on one's hands and one's face, and opening up all the secret folds of the entire world as if it were a flower, as if we were all part of one great sighing organism. The light of the sun … on snow."

I stopped. I really didn't want to tell him. I felt I had betrayed myself.

"There were other things," I said. "Oh, there were many things. Only a fool would not have seen them. Some night, perhaps, when we're warm and comfortable together again as if this never happened, I'll tell you."

"But they were not enough." "Not for me. Not now."

Silence.

"Maybe that was the best part," I said, "the discovery. And that I no longer entertain a deception. That I know now I truly love being the little devil that I am."

I turned and gave him my prettiest, most malignant smile. He was far too wise to fall for it. He gave a long near-silent sigh, his lids lowered for a moment, and then he looked at me again. "Only you could have gone there," he said. "And come back."

I wanted to say this wasn't true. But who else would have been fool enough to trust the Body Thief? Who else would have plunged into the venture with such sheer recklessness? And as I thought this over, I realized what ought to have been plain to me already. That I'd known the risk I was taking. I'd seen it as the price. The fiend told me he was a liar; he told me he was a cheat. But I had done it because there was simply no other way.

Of course this wasn't really what Louis meant by his words; but in a way it was. It was the deeper truth. "Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply.

"Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say."

"You smug, cynical lying bastard," I whispered, the anger cresting in me suddenly, the blood even rushing into my face. "I needed you and you turned me away! Out in the mortal night you locked me. You refused me. You turned your back!"

The heat in my voice startled him. It startled me. But it was there and I couldn't deny it, and once again my hands were trembling, these hands that had leapt out and away from me at the false David, even when all the other lethal power in me was kept in check.

He didn't utter a word. His face registered those small changes which shock produces-the slight quiver of an eyelid, the mouth lengthening and then softening, a subtle clabbering look, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He held my accusing glance all through it, and then slowly looked away.

"It was David Talbot, your mortal friend, who helped you, wasn't it?" he asked. I nodded.

But at the mere mention of the name, it was as if all my nerves had been touched by the tip of a heated bit of wire. There was enough suffering here as it was. I couldn't speak anymore of David. I wouldn't speak of Gretchen. And I suddenly realized that what I wanted to do most in the world was to turn to him and put my arms around him and weep on his shoulder as I'd never done. How shameful. How predictable! How insipid. And how sweet. I didn't do it.

We sat there in silence. The soft cacophony of the city rose and fell beyond the stained-glass windows, which caught the faint glow from the street lamps outside. The rain had come again, the gentle warm rain of New Orleans, in which one can walk so easily as if it were nothing but the gentlest mist.

"I want you to forgive me," he said. "I want you to understand that it wasn't cowardice; it wasn't weakness. What I said to you at the time was the truth. I couldn't do it. I can't bring someone into this! Not even if that someone is a mortal man with you inside him. I simply could not."

"I know all that," I said.

I tried to leave it there. But I couldn't. My temper wouldn't cool, my wondrous temper, the temper which had caused me to smash David Talbot's head into a plaster wall.

He spoke again. "I deserve whatever you have to say."

"Ah, more than that!" I said. "But this is what I want to know." I turned and faced him, speaking through my clenched teeth. "Would you have refused me forever? If they'd destroyed my body, the others-Marius, whoever knew of it-if I'd been trapped in that mortal form, if I'd come to you over and over and over again, begging you and pleading with you, would you have shut me out forever! Would you have held fast?"

"I don't know."

"Don't answer so quickly. Look for the truth inside yourself. You do know. Use your filthy imagination. You do know. Would you have turned me away?"

"I don't know the answer!"

"I despise you!" I said in a bitter, harsh whisper. "I ought to destroy you-finish what I started when I made you. Turn you into ashes and sift them through my hands. You know that I could do it! Like that! Like the snap of mortal fingers, I could do it. Burn you as I burnt your little house. And nothing could save you, nothing at all."

I glared at him, at the sharp graceful angles of his imperturbable face, faintly phosphorescent against the deeper shadows of the church. How beautiful the shape of his wide-set eyes, with their fine rich black lashes. How perfect the tender indentation of his upper lip.

The anger was acid inside me, destroying the very veins through which it flowed, and burning away the preternatural blood. Yet I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't even conceive of carrying out such awful, cowardly threats. I could never have brought harm to Claudia. Ah, to make something out of nothing, yes. To throw up the pieces to see how they will fall, yes. But vengeance. Ah, arid awful distasteful vengeance. What is it to me?

"Think on it," he whispered. "Could you make another, after all that's passed?" Gently he pushed it further. "Could you work the Dark Trick again? Ah-you take your time before answering. Look deep inside you for the truth as you just told me to do. And when you know it, you needn't tell it to me."

Then he leant forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his smooth silken lips against the side of my face. I meant to pull away, but he used all his strength to hold me still, and I allowed it, this cold, passionless kiss, and he was the one who finally drew back like a collection of shadows collapsing into one another, with only his hand still on my shoulder, as I sat with my eyes on the altar still.

Finally I rose slowly, stepping past him, and motioned for Mojo to wake and come.

__________________

It's all… very emotional and very raw.

The power dynamics are inverted. There is history between them. Petty and helpless love, too. Desire, passion, anger, love, hate, you name it.

Just thinking about Sam and Jacob doing this gives me the shivers.

(As a side note, we have "artful glimmer in the dark" here as a description for Louis, calling back to "spark in the dark".)

Louis moves in with Lestat (and David) once more after this, into the renovated Rue Royale.

It's where he lives until the events after Merrick, after which they abandon Rue Royale, and Louis goes to Armand to New York for a while until the court is created in the Auvergne.

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #vc #the vampire chronicles #the tale of the body thief #spark in the dark #artful glimmer in the dark #book quotes

39 notes · View notes

ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

Note

Hello I like the concept of reader in impostor sagau au, but what if the impostor who wants to kill the reader has power to dominate the will of the pepoles but he manily did to archons like venti and nahida becoese impostor knows that those two wodul help the reader. And those are prisoners in thier own body and trys to take back control of thier body even for few secends just to help reader escape, and that true impostor on the public acts on the public like good god but on the private. Where there is no acolaytes only thier dominated puppets they will shows true colors of cruler person that wodul like to punish all of acolaytes for leting reader run away but they can punish only those characters who are under thier control.

(Sorry for my bad english that not my first language)

This. Pure Gold.

Anon, true words cannot express how much I want to hug you right now. I legit could not have come up with this idea myself LOL. Honestly, ik my writing is terrible, but I might make a angst oneshot out of this idea! Tysm for the idea, Anon!

But I really do love this idea! The Imposter being smart this time, bois. Poor Venti and Nahida, they're being held against their will—quite literally. But still, this is a super cool concept! Imposter being able to take control over people's wills, mainly the archons, along with every other character that seems to hold a deep loyalty to them.

So! Allow me to introduce...Imposter Headcanons!

When Imposter takes control, it is done by mind entirely. → Now, you might be asking "isn't that obvious?" Let me explain why I point this out. Think of this as a light switch. When Imposter wants to, they can simply slip into their own consciousness once this "switch" is turned on, and they can decide who's minds they can possess/take control/spectate.

Often times, characters would not be able to notice the Imposter's presence within their mind, but people who are keen or have been dealing with spirits in some way (Examples: Shenhe, Chongyun, Yae Miko, Cyno, etc.) would be able to feel that presence. This causes the feeling of the "Creator's presence" being placed everywhere, causing everyone to believe that the Reader is, in fact, the "imposter," when it should be the other way around.

To the Imposter, choosing who to have a constant control over is basically like choosing which characters you want to have on the party, except with one catch: it goes up to at least several hundreds of people. Imposter can literally have like- a fourth of the world possessed if they wanted to at this rate—

Imposter's actions don't always influence their puppet's actions, as there is a certain command these puppets would follow. For example, the Imposter could be feeling hungry and want something to eat, thus they cannot spectate their puppet's actions. They leave this final command in their heads: "Search for the traitor. Don't stop until you bring them to me. ALIVE." and then leave to have their lunch or something.

The Imposter's Actions May Sometimes influence the character's they possess and their actions. → The best way to explain this is an example: Let's say the Imposter feels sleepy, and they decide to go to sleep after giving the final command to their current puppets to continuing searching for the traitor (for context, this "traitor" is someone who didn't believe in their "creator" aka imposter). They would do it, it's just...sometimes, the puppets may also feel fatigue. This causes their actions to be more sluggish, some of the puppets are less keen than they usually are.

Just think of Al-Haitham except his mind is being clouded by 2 weeks worth of no sleep to the point he has to have taken one cup too many of coffee to function.

The Imposter can speak through their puppets. → This is very helpful. From physical appearance, it just seems like they're the same, but their voice? Oh no, that's a entirely new story yet to be discovered.

The Imposter's voice is overlaid on the character's voice. Think of it like playing two songs at once at the same time. Except, Imposter's voice would come out stronger than the character's voice.

For example, imagine Reader bumping into Nahida, right? They're basically having a Goose Chase, since Reader is trying to get away from Nahida, thinking (correctly) that she'll kill them. And then she taunts, "Come out, imposter. You can't hide forever!" Nahida's voice is entirely overpowered by the Imposter's voice.

This is also beneficial for the Imposter's hunting army. Why? Because, if several hundreds of people begin storming a place, and people are panicking, the Imposter can have all of their puppets speak at once, saying something like "Don't fret, my people. It is I, your Creator." Which immediately calms down the citizens, before the Imposter commands to their army "Search for the Imposter!"

Yes, that means the commands the Imposter gives could be both a verbal order or a mental one.

Imposter Cannot search in people's memories. → While in control, the Imposter cannot look through their puppet's memories. This is probably the easiest loophole the Imposter gets, seeing that they seem to have a close eye on the Archons, having their presence on them sub-consciously at this point. They can simply order Nahida to read someone's mind, or just straight up take over her body to do it if she refuses.

The Imposter doesn't have to worry about their puppet's consciousness, because they're usually in a daze or in a sleepy state whenever the Imposter is in control. It gives them easy access to do whatever they want to their physical bodies.

However, once Nahida and/or Venti decide to break through it once to let the Reader escape? Oh no, Imposter will, first of all, punish those two severely, and, second of all, be worried if that were to happen ever again.

Imposter will legit throw them in a cage, probably both mentally and physically. They're taking absolute precautions to make sure it doesn't happen ever to those who seem more interested in escaping their grasp.

You can basically say goodbye to Nahida and Venti—Imposter will not let go of their control over them. They'll be in their heads day in and day out. No excuses, and no escapes.

Legit Imposter is a straight up tyrant. And tbh, Idk if Reader will be making out alive on this sagau au concept, lads.

And that's all I got! Sorry if it's confusing lol—feel free to ask any questions. I'll try to answer them if I can. See you around!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Thanks so much for sending this into my inbox, anon! Feel free to drop by again when my mailbox is open! And I wasn't kidding—I might actually make a small oneshot or two based off of this idea. It won't be beta read though sobbing. But I'll try writing again lol-

Check the Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Inbox is Open!

#sagau genshin #sagau #genshin impact sagau #yandere sagau #genshin sagau #sagau brainrot #sagau idea #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #sagau angst #sagau au #sagau impostor au #imposter sagau

259 notes · View notes

host-club-hq · 2 years

Note

will we ever get a filler chapter or something when y/n is on her period ???

y/n and her hormonal tendencies (OR- kyoya navigating y/n’s period) (an Indeed filler chapter)

➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x reader

➼ summary: kyoya’s been doing so much research on menstrual cycles that… he forgets to listen to you and your symptoms, which aren’t universal for everyone

➼ word count: 3.5k

➼ what to expect: "You mean she's shedding her unborn children?!"

➼ warnings: not labeled as smut but talk of sex drives, masturbation (not in detail, briefly mentioned and not in the way you think lol), misogynistic period assumptions, kyoya describing periods in way too much detail

➼ chapter navigation

➼ talk to the characters!

➼ thanks so much to my beta reader for helping me out! so sorry this took so long lol

"... you're looking more angry than usual."

You groan with the roll of your tired eyes, "Thank you; I'm on my period."

Kyoya blinks owlishly at your response, stood up straight beside his pulled-out chair as you sit in your own, chin propped on your hand and your eyes glued to the wall in front of you, eyes hooded boredly.

Kyoya isn't one to typically assume about these types of things that pertain to you, especially out loud. Although, he'd noticed a few symptoms of premenstrual syndrome just a week before today.

Of course, the first time you entered a cycle while you were involved, he launched himself into diligent research to be as prepared as possible. He thought that... since he was already terribly inept in several aspects of romance, additional research to ensure you're comfortable couldn't hurt in the slightest.

Kyoya admits that most forums he encountered with men regaling their exaggerated stories of their girlfriends turning into hell-fed demons and demanding the world made him grimace for their sake. Those women would probably be a lot less 'demonic' if their boyfriends spent time tending to their needs rather than complaining about their rage on a public website.

Kyoya knows that much, at least.

He also knows that you're nothing similar to the girls he's read about. You're terribly withdrawn, suffering in silence, although you're sarcastic when you speak.

He can tell that you dwell much too hard on your painful symptoms when you keep to yourself, which only serves to make it significantly worse. The mind is a terribly powerful thing.

You're also not embarrassed about anything associated with this sort of thing, especially in Kyoya's presence. For example: the fact that you so bluntly informed him of your current condition? A telltale sign of lack of embarrassment.

Kyoya admires that- he wholeheartedly believes that there's nothing for you or him to be disgusted about. However, he's read several accounts of men shaming their girlfriends for normal bodily functions. He rolls his eyes at those men and hopes their partners will seek companionship elsewhere.

"Are you doing alright?" Kyoya slides into his seat beside your desk, hooking his briefcase in place.

Your heart warms, and you manage a smile, "It's infrequent but quite unpleasant when it visits."

Kyoya nods. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot imagine what you go through each month, but he can try his best to make you feel up to spirits.

He also realizes that there is a fragile line between caring for and patronizing you, and he often stumbles awfully close to the wrong side.

"If you... want some company; I'd be more than happy to oblige." Kyoya suggests somewhat quietly. You glance up at him through tired eyes, "Are you sure? I wouldn't be a bother?"

This is the aforementioned 'suffering in silence' that Kyoya referred to, feeling guilty for something you can't even remotely control. "Of course not; it'll be just like every other time you've come over." Kyoya shrugs, hoping to lift your spirits with nonchalance.

"If it's alright with you, I'll visit for a bit. Should I mention that to my driver?" You reach for your cellphone to do just that, and Kyoya nods affirmatively. His family driver will simply give the both of you a lift to his estate... as he often does, anyway.

A quick message to your driver and your ride home is canceled for something much more preferred. Brief panic enters your mind but quickly settles when you remember that Kyoya keeps a modest supply of feminine products in his medicine cabinet. Your cheeks warm to a subtle pink, a fond smile tugging at your lips.

"What are you smirking about?" Kyoya inquires teasingly.

You scramble, "Uh- hormones." That ought to put him off the scent. Kyoya straightens, "Ah." He doesn't say another word.

It seems you've found your newest excuse. You turn away to hide a wider smirk.

By the end of class, your brain is fried. If you weren't consciously trying to look normal, your eyes would be crossed toward your nose. You've long tuned out your professor, staring blankly at the wall behind him as painful sensations cloud your brain and lower abdomen.

"... y/n... y/n?" You blink at the call of your name, owlishly glancing at your boyfriend staring down at you from beside your desk.

"Huh?" You sit up straight, grimacing at the head rush that follows.

"Everyone's left... you've been sitting there silently for a while," Kyoya informs, looking concerned.

"Ah." You scratch the back of your neck, confused.

"My driver is waiting for us." Kyoya offers you his hand. Absently, you slip your hand in his and allow him to help you hoist yourself to your feet.

Without a thought, Kyoya untangles your bag from the back of your chair and hauls it over his own shoulder, striding along ahead of you with the indication to follow him. You follow meekly in his footsteps, silently grateful for the literal weight lifted from your shoulders. Kyoya easily supports your bag while carrying his briefcase at his side. You watch his long strides with calculating, curious eyes. Before you know it, he's opened the door to his car for you.

The movement of the vehicle during your ride to Kyoya's estate puts you at ease. Although it is, in fact, a luxury car, no automobile is without a few bumps here and the rumble of the engine there- you would know, anyway.

The soft hum of the machinery lulls you into a comfortable silence, eyes hooded as you suddenly become increasingly exhausted. Your hands are folded neatly in your lap, ankles crossed as your neck seems to struggle to support your head.

"Tired?" A phantom voice draws you from your daydreams.

"Mmhm." You manage to nod, blinking slowly.

Kyoya cracks a soft, fond smile as he watches your head bob, fighting exhaustion. The physical toll of menstruation seems to be running its thorough course through your mind and body if your heavy eyelids are anything to go by.

The moment you arrive at his estate, Kyoya is a man on a mission. He hurries you to his room and begins rummaging through his medicine cabinet, mind running rampant with the recalled information from countless question forums, articles, and discussions of your condition.

Although through his haste, you simply fall limp on his sofa with a sigh, cheek pressed into the cool leather as you watch him mill about. Finally, he returns with pain relievers and other necessities, "I struggled in finding specific symptom targeting medication, but I hope this will suffice." Kyoya hands you a bottle of pills. You glance at it with a frown. You're not particularly in pain at the moment, just a dull ache in your abdomen and fatigue plaguing every corner of your mind.

"What would you say your symptoms are at this moment?" Kyoya props open his laptop along with his notebook, pen at the ready.

"... what?" You croak from your position.

"Just from your behavior, I would say... fatigue, headache..."

You furrow your brows as his expression turns flustered, lifting your head in question, "... what are you looking at?" You peer over at him.

"I'm logging your symptoms into a period tracking website that I signed you up for to better track your cycle."

Your mouth draws into a thin line, "You're what?" You almost laugh.

"I can't possibly infer the other symptoms without your input," Kyoya hesitantly eyes the remaining, more invasive questions, "so I'll need your help. The remaining are cramps, nausea, backache, acne, cravings, tender breasts-"

"Okay, okay. Let's stick with fatigue and headache... add nausea." You groan urgently, insisting he stop early in the list.

"Alright." Kyoya's hands fly across the keyboard, clacking.

"What would you say your sex drive is?"

"Excuse me?" You gawk, eyes growing wide as you manage to sit up.

"Well, it seems to be vital information. You can choose from 'didn't have sex, protected sex, high sex drive, masturba-'"

You sputter, "Are you, my boyfriend, really asking about this?" You almost laugh with a nervous tone.

Kyoya shrugs, "I suppose you're right.... but there are still three options to choose from-"

"Didn't have sex!" You all but yell, voice pitching with embarrassment.

Kyoya nods, avoiding your eye as he clicks the option.

"Let's close the website." You plead. Anyone else would label these questions as incredibly invasive, but you know Kyoya. If aware, he knows better than to make you step too far out of your comfort zone, especially around himself.

"Suit yourself." Kyoya closes his laptop screen at your request.

To take his and your mind off the subject of... whatever that conversation was, "I really want pasta right now." You don't mean for your voice to come out as a whine.

"Pasta?" Kyoya parrots, eyeing you curiously.

"You know... pasta. Linguine with clams... white wine sauce." Kyoya watches your vision become trained on the coffee table, blinking irregularly... and you might as well be drooling.

"That can be arranged. Are you okay to wait here?"

You nod absentmindedly. Kyoya internally shrugs and lifts himself from the sofa, trailing off down the hall from his room toward the kitchen. He pulls his notepad from his blazer and clicks his pen, muttering to himself, "Guess we're adding cravings to the list..."

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The first day or so of your period is the most overwhelming for you, as it is with the majority. Your hormones are completely out of sorts, and, this go-round, your stomach seems to be craving particular dishes (it's a good thing you and your boyfriend are filthy rich). Unfortunately, this is also the time that plagues you with the most physically painful symptoms.

Kyoya has long returned with the dish you requested, and you're eagerly sat beside him, bowl raised to your mouth as you shovel the linguine noodles into your mouth with chopsticks, taking a break to crack open the occasional clam and pair it with a bite of perfectly seasoned noodles.

"You might want to slow down before you choke," Kyoya advises cautiously, trying to gauge your reaction.

You stop mid-slurp, blinking at him sheepishly before sucking the remaining noodles from your bite into your mouth and smiling, dabbing your lips with a cloth napkin, "I think I'm finished, anyway." You poke around with your chopsticks a few more times before setting the bowl in front of you, sighing contently.

"My compliments to your chefs, that was amazing." You lean back slightly, eyes gently slipping shut for a moment.

For a moment is to be emphasized. Just beside you, your cellphone begins vibrating and ringing incessantly with an all too familiar ringtone.

Before glancing at the caller ID or photo, you press the phone to your ear, "Hello?"

"y/n! Why didn't you tell us you were suffering?!" Tamaki's shrill voice laced with panic breaches your eardrums. You sigh, "I'm sorry... suffering?"

Beside you, Kyoya can actually hear Tamaki's voice loud and clear; that's saying a lot.

"Senpai, it's really not that big of a deal." You hear Haruhi's pleading voice in the background. You almost manage a smile.

"Hikaru and Kaoru were telling me of the horrors!"

You scoff, thinking of the things that the twins must have told him, "I'm sure they know next to nothing." You humor him for a moment.

"We're already on our way! You can count on the Host Club!" Tamaki says in the most chivalrous voice he can muster.

You roll your eyes into the back of your skull, "Actually, Kyoya and his staff are managing to keep me company, but thank you for the thought." You groan.

Kyoya's eyes grow wide and silently signal for you to stop talking before it's too late-

"Oh! You're at Kyoya's place? No matter, that's an easy reroute! Men, we're going to Kyoya's."

It's too late. Both you and Kyoya slouch in defeat. You groan in realization of what you've just done. "Tamaki, really, you don't have to-"

"Nonsense, we'll be there soon. Hang in there!" And with that, the line goes dead. Oh, you can only think of the tragedy arriving by Mercedes in just a few moments.

"You-"

"Shouldn't have done that? Yeah... I know." You sigh exasperatedly, burying your face in your hands, feeling as though the stress of seeing them in this state would overwhelm you, but you manage to push it back down.

To your dismay, a mere ten minutes after that disaster of a phone call, the club has arrived at Kyoya's front door. As much as the pair of you try your hardest to stop them before they wreak havoc, the maids let them in without a second thought.

The moment Tamaki finds you in Kyoya's room, he scoops you up into his arms and presses you closely, tightly, "Thank God you're alright! We were so worried about you."

You manage to shove him at arm's length. Just as you get the space you need, Honey is practically next in line.

"We brought you chocolates and snacks, y/n-chan! As much as we could fit in this bag! And that one, and that one... and that one!" Honey points to four bags full to the brim with chocolates and various sweets. Craving sweets happens to be a very rare symptom of yours... and the saccharine scent is making you particularly nauseous. You do your best to hold back a retch for Honey's sake. Mori stands behind him with a large teddy bear in his arms.

Hikaru and Kaoru stand off behind the rest of the members, barely meeting your gaze when you look up at them expectantly, "So, are you really bleeding for a whole week?" Kaoru begins.

"Can't you just like... stop bleeding? You know, hold it in? That would make everything so much easier." Hikaru scoffs.

You want to cry, you really do. Kyoya steps in on your behalf.

"That's not how it works at all. You see, y/n's uterus is shedding-"

"y/n-chan is shedding? Shedding what?" Honey pipes up, brightly curious eyes glancing at everyone that towers over him.

In the midst of heated debate and bickering, Haruhi manages to slide past them all and to your side on the sofa, carefully approaching you, "I brought you a heating pad, Senpai. They always work for me." She passes you a box with the aforementioned life saver packaged inside.

"Oh, thank you... wow, just the thought sounds lovely." You read over the instructions carefully.

"You have to understand, cramps are a symptom of being dilated. You know, y/n has to be at least one centimeter dilated during the entirety of menstruation." Your smart-ass boyfriend's voice can be heard when you direct your attention back to the arguing hosts.

"YOU MEAN SHE'S GIVING BIRTH?! YOU GET THE HOT WATER, I'LL GET THE TOWELS! REMEMBER TO BREATHE, Y/N!!" Tamaki frantically searches through each and every one of Kyoya's drawers.

"Actually-" You're cut off as more bickering ensues.

"No, you idiot, her period actually means she's not pregnant," Kyoya calls after his dimwitted best friend.

"Isn't that a relief?" Hikaru scoffs.

"Wouldn't want that on your hands, right, Kyoya-Senpai?" Kaoru chuckles.

"What actually is a period, Kyo-chan?" Honey tugs at Kyoya's blazer with innocent eyes.

"Well, you see, the eggs that were originally meant for conceiving children are shed through the fallopian tubes and-"

"You mean she's shedding her unborn children?!" Tamaki shrieks.

"Is that why it's like shark week?" Hikaru jests, drawing a laugh from Kaoru.

Your cheeks grow red with heat and embarrassment. Haruhi doesn't seem to be faring much better than you.

"Would you guys stop talking about something you'll never even experience? You have no idea what it's like for us!" Haruhi joins in on the debating and arguing, leaving you alone on the sofa to watch it all take place.

It all sounds like intense white noise, their bickering sounds jumbled together, and you can only make out a few phrases every now and then.

"Is there any way to save her from these horrible symptoms every month?!"

"There is one way-"

"-that you could stop it for 9 months, boss."

"Shut up, you two! You don't even know what you're talking about!"

"You're all morons. I've actually done research on the subject and would consider myself well-versed on how to handle her in these situations. The key is not to patronize her but also to not ignore her."

You raise a timid finger, "Kyoya, could I just-"

Kyoya groans more sharply than he intends to, "Not now, y/n. Can't you see we're in the middle of something?"

His tone is laced with annoyance and the volume of his voice indicates that he's angry with you. Despite his intentions, the remark wedges a dagger into your heart and seemingly your tear ducts, as well. Your finger quickly draws back to your body as Kyoya turns away from you to continue his quarrel.

You don't seem to be able to stop the pathetic hiccup that slips past your lips at the thought of Kyoya being angry with you, tears flooding your waterline as your chest begins to heave, feeling tight.

Tamaki's eyes grow wide, and he taps Kyoya, "Uh... Kyoya?" He slightly shoves his friend's shoulders your way.

"What?"

Kyoya's eyes land on your quivering lip and glassy eyes, seemingly so small, scrunched up on his sofa beneath all of them.

"... so much for handling her."

"So was that not patronizing but also not ignoring her?"

"Don't cry, y/n-chan!"

"I'm okay." You don't mean for your words to come out in the whimper that they do, causing more embarrassment to flush behind your cheeks and more tears to flow, overflowing over your cheeks like a dam broke behind your eyes.

"Come to think of it, I think Kyoya-Senpai's the only one-"

"-who's made her cry before."

"Everyone needs to leave."

At Kyoya's command, Mori snatches Hikaru and Kaoru by their collars and drags them effortlessly from Kyoya's room, Honey following in tow as the twins adamantly protest.

"Let's go, Senpai." Haruhi takes Tamaki’s hand and he follows compliantly, "Okay..."

And just as suddenly as they appeared, the host club is gone, save for Kyoya standing before you, completely baffled by your reaction.

Kyoya isn't quite sure what to do... or what you want him to do.

"Do... you want me to...?"

"Mhm." You whine with another hiccup.

Kyoya sweeps down toward the couch and pulls you into his arms. The floodgates swing open and you let out a sob, burying your face into his neck and inhaling with a shaking, unstable breath. Kyoya does what he feels is right, hooking a hand under your knees and pulling your legs across his lap so that you're essentially sitting side-saddle across his lap as you cling tightly to him.

"I'm sorry, 'm sorry, I really didn't mean to-" It sounds as though you're hyperventilating uncontrollably.

"It's okay, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry." Kyoya assures as if his gentle tone almost comes naturally to him. He smoothes a hand over your back and hushes you gently.

As soon as you feel as though you can speak without hiccuping, "I'm not really that upset; you're just a prick. I don't know why I'm crying." You admit, sniffling.

Kyoya chuckles, "Yes, I'm a prick. But the morons are gone, and that should fix almost everything." Kyoya smiles softly.

"It always does." You whimper, pulling back to wipe away one of your last stray tears.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, y/n. I have no excuse." Kyoya cups your cheeks to assist you in wiping away tears.

"I'm sorry I'm being such a crybaby." You giggle, urging his hands back to support you around your torso.

"You're not a crybaby. These things happen; it's completely normal," Kyoya assures, his knowledge shining through when it's needed most.

"Well... then, treat me like a baby and tuck me in and watch a movie with me?" You add a pathetic sniffle for effect.

"Fine. Only because you just burst into tears and it was my doing." You and Kyoya detangle yourselves from each other as he moves to acquire a blanket, among other things.

"What happened to it being normal?” You laugh, “Watch it, Ootori, or it might happen again. It doesn't take much." You remind with a small smile.

"Ah, but this time I know how to prevent it." He flicks the lights off and moves toward you.

"Indeed you do... smart ass." You say, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

🎵I run and run a thousand miles, and I am barely breathing. Only the fuel of a passionate heart keeps this body strong and moving forward.

Could it be I found a place to rest? How far until I’m OK?

Trees of the town reveal the time has come once again to shift our shade and colors. 🎵

🎵The world always changes around us but weakness will always remain;

Through all the pain, believe in who we are right here and now! 🎵

🎵Raise one hand to the sky; raise them both lift them high!!

And you’ll cut through the darkness make it go!

The time to start is now! And I can show you how.

Start with me, and the world will be even bigger than ever before. 🎵

want to read more? here's my ouran masterlist 🌹

and here's my bts blog💜

want me to write something you want to see? request something💌

have any questions? talk to my characters!🙏🏻

Adieu~ 🌹🌹🌹

582 notes · View notes