Work Text:
Silence stretches between the two women, and Zyanya turns her head towards Ling Ying. It’d be easy to say something, to say anything at all, but the words don’t come out, despite craving to end the silence. She wanted to reach over, touch her hair, run her fingers over the other woman’s shoulder.
But something like that, right now, wasn’t possible, not for Ling Ying. She was too distraught over Omen, too worried about the others, to focus on herself, to receive what she wants. So instead, they stand side by side, shoulders hardly touching, leaning over a railing, watching the night sky together. But Zyanya wanted more, she always wanted more, and she would always want Ling Ying. She won’t settle for silence, won’t settle for just being beside Ling Ying.
“Cariño,” Zyanya speaks, her voice soft, her eyes piercing, a contrast that Ling Ying was nothing short of accustomed to. Ling Ying doesn’t turn her head, and Zyanya gently reaches over, her hand finding Ling Ying’s hair, running her hand down in a soft manner, almost petting her. Ling Ying finds herself closing her eyes, leaning into the touch. For just a moment she’ll allow this, under the moon; the only witness to their intimacy.
“Come here,” Zyanya whispers, her arm snaking around Ling Ying’s shoulders, and she pulls her close, holding her. Ling Ying shuts her eyes tightly, the two now embracing, her own arms wrapping around Zyanya.
Ling Ying opens her eyes, looking slightly up at Zyanya, who looks back at her with a hunger that couldn’t possibly ever be satisfied. But her hands brush back a strand from Ling Ying’s face, tucking it behind her ear, her expression incredibly gentle. “Sabés que te quiero mucho, no?,” She whispers, leaning forward, lips a breath apart, and Ling Ying doesn’t reply, just cups Zyanya’s face, kissing her softly. A hand trails down the side of the other woman’s cheek. “You are beautiful,” Ling Ying says as she pulls away, though not far. She wouldn’t dream of leaving Zyanya’s embrace. “As are you, Ling Ying,” Zyanya returns, her eyes focused solely on her. Ling Ying snorts.
“Flattery will not get you anywhere, Zyanya,” She laughs quietly. Zyanya smiles. “Won’t it?” And for a moment, they just gaze at the other. And Zyanya can see stars in Ling Ying’s dark eyes, forgetting who they were for just a moment, forgetting Valorant, forgetting it all- except her. There was no limit to what Zyanya wouldn’t do for the woman, and she’s certain Ling Ying understood that. Endlessly, Zyanya was hers. And Ling Ying was just as equally hers.