🍁In my 20's | Reblog some 18+ fics | In love of Benedict Cumberbatch, Pedro Pascal and Hugh Jackman characters | Love The Mummy (1999 & 2001), Overwatch, Genshin Impact, Aemond Targaryen, Astarion, CoD MW and Miguel O'hara🍁
hiii!!! my first time sending a request to someone, but i just saw your beautiful little post coming out like a minute ago and you're asking for more requests...so.....i'm being totally normal about how gorgeous you write for Ramattra...( and I'm being totally normal about how I'm so feral over him too like bark bark- )
So, if you'll be willing...how about just a little fluff? Ramattra's first time wanting to sleep with his fem!human in the same bed, but he actually doesn't know how to cuddle and not crush this fragile being beside him. So, reader has to teach that silly little omnic how to >< bonus points if Ramattra doesn't understand his strength from the human pov 👉👈
even if you'd dismiss it, it's alright! Just wanted to reach out and say thank u so much for your works, you're doing awesome with writing and art and you're making me smile every time i see something from you ( or cry okay i love good dose of angst- ). Srry for many words, well, have a great day/night!! ^^
Hi Hi! We love being feral for Ramattra on this blog~ bark bark
Also thank you so much for the kind words! It really means a lot to me 😭 It's messages like this that keep me writing ♥
"Since when did you want to cuddle?" You ask, arms crossed over your chest with a slight smirk on your face.
"Shut up..." He looks away and you could tell he was embarrassed for asking such a thing.
You laugh lightly before taking his hand and pulling him towards the bed. Luckily it was late, so it was the perfect excuse to be close to your partner.
Ramattra won't admit that it would be his first time cuddling with a human, anything beyond that was out of his trajectory regardless, but he wanted to be close with you tonight.
He lays down beside you, instinctively wrapping his arms around your curves and pulling you close. His grip was tight around your body which causes you to wince.
"I am sorry." Ramattra speaks softly, letting go of you when he notices the pained expression. He wasn't used to being gentle with another being.
You shake your head and smile up at him. "It's an honest mistake." Shuffling closer to him, you place his arms where you needed them, wrapped around your sides as your head lays against his chest, cowl protecting you from the harsh metal bracing.
The hum of his inner workings lull you to sleep almost instantly, but you fight to stay awake a little longer.
"This is... Comforting." He admits, thumb rubbing gentle motions on your side. He feels the warmth of your chest against his side, your own hand rubbing soothing lines up his tubing.
"Better than you imagined?"
"Far better." He stares up at the ceiling, systems heating up slightly to keep you warm.
You hum, shifting slightly as the fight wears out and you fall asleep against him. You were safe within his arms, all worries dissipating.
Ramattra can't help but let out an audible sigh, finally feeling content. He speaks in a sort of whisper, not wanting to disturb you.
First I want to say that I LOVE YOUR WRITING, everything you do it's a work of art, I'm such a SIMP😍
Second, and i hope I'm noth bothering you, I just wanted to know if you could write something with our handsome Ramattra.
I was thinking about him and reader (female if that's ok) adopting a little girl, Ramatta being excited and nervous to have a daughter, and loving her with all his being, another human that will show him than not every humans are bad.
Send u a lot of love and hugs🤗❤️
Aaaa thank you!! I accept all the love and hugs heh ♥ I am doing well too, thanks for asking!
It had been talk of the household for months now and Ramattra didn't see the appeal of it. He was already living with one human, and you had been talking about taking in another one? He scoffs at the thought every time it crosses his mind.
Of course, being your partner, he couldn't deny the happiness it would bring you, so eventually he agrees and soon enough, the pair of you were heading to the adoption agency.
It was going to be a long process; making sure your home was fit for this child, that you two had stable jobs but also making sure that you had enough time to be with this new addition to the family.
When everything was finalised, the day came when you and Ramattra finally took your daughter home and the omnic was surprised when a small hand entwined with his.
He looks down, a hum of satisfaction escaping his vocaliser. She wasn't scared of him like every other human was, no, she was accepting of his appearance.
"She's taken a liking to you." You whisper over to your partner.
"Yes, it seems the small human has." Ramattra looks up at you, the smile on your face warms his circuits. "She is lucky to have a mother like you, too."
Your cheeks grew in heat. It was rare for him to compliment you so it was always a shock when he did.
"You will be a wonderful father."
Ramattra nods as he looks forward, his grip tightening on his daughter's hand ever so slightly. A father... Perhaps this will not be so bad afterall.
----
Roughly a year had passed and Ramattra had never felt such adoration towards a human. Every waking moment he was spending it with his daughter. When you were working, he'd make sure that the small human was fed, playing with her when she demanded it... Even if it meant pink lipstick being smeared over his faceplate.
He loved his daughter, the playfulness and even the tantrums; he was glad he took that uncomfortable leap and started a family with you.
"I love you, dad." Her words were a constant reassurance to him.
simon gets drunk quickly, being quite sensitive to alcohol — something that others are completely unaware of, even his mates, because his every emotion is well controlled, and his reddened skin is hidden behind the fabric of imposing balaclava.
but you know how charming his rather pale skin looks while being covered with a pinkish blush, pupils are dilated and absorb his already dark brown eyes, somewhat reminiscent of roasted almonds, making them even darker and more bottomless.
you're not afraid to let him go out for a drink, not only because you know he's going out with his close comrades from the army, but also because you know that at the end of the evening he'll be back in your arms, even on slightly wobbly legs, with unfocused vision — he knows you'll be waiting for him at home, with a mug of his favorite tea ready.
and he wouldn't trade that feeling for anything else in this world.
your care and trust in him makes him dizzier than alcohol, with how sweetly you help him shed his jacket and combat boots, neatly moving everything out of the way before gently wrapping your arm around his biceps, leading him from the threshold into the depths of your shared house, to the dimly lit kitchen, where you carefully sit him down on a chair.
a warm mug of fragrant tea, the smell of freshly cooked dinner on the stove is in the air, the fluttering touches of your fingers when you stroke simon's shoulder and biceps, standing next to him when he pulls off his balaclava and puts his lips on the edge of the mug, taking a few sips, and almost purrs with pleasure.
you watch with a smile, squint your eyes and continue to silently stroke simon wherever your hand reaches, before he turns with a slight crunch of a wooden chair to wrap his broad arms around your waist, hoisting you onto his burly lap and immediately covering you with warm, sloppy kisses, each one warm and carries scent of smoke and bourbon.
it makes you giggle, his light, barely overgrown stubble rubs against your soft cheeks and temples, where warmth blooms beneath his little kisses as your arms curl against his neck and you press closer, head lolling against his sturdy chest as simon squeezes you lightly, letting you listen to each steady beat of his heart.
and it's beats for you, cause simon breathes and lives just to feel your care and touch, to repay you for your tenderness by giving you all of himself.
He grabs your hand carefully, the red dripping down the palm of your hand.
You quickly yank it away, pulling your sleeve down. "It's nothing. I just caught my arm on something earlier."
Ramattra didn't believe you as he hesitates in reaching for your hand again and this time, you let him take it.
"I thought you said you would stop." He pulls back your sleeve, noticing the fresh cuts that now littered your arm. "I am here for you, [y/n]."
A small tear slips past, dripping down your cheek.
"Let me help you." His tone was gentle, softer than it had ever been. It was something you have never received before when this occurred in the past.
The omnic leads you to his room, seating you on the bed before he pulls out a first aid kit. Popping the lid open, he reaches for the wipes.
"Brother Zenyatta fell last night." He randomly mentions.
"What?"
"He is okay, though I believe his ego was hurt." Ramattra chuckles, focussing on cleaning your arm. "I watched him fall. It was quite humorous. I understand why you humans laugh first before helping your friends."
"How did he fall?" There was a hint of a smile forming on your face, the tears stopping.
"I believe there was a leak in the ceiling above. It was raining last night so I would assume it was the rain water." Ramattra gently presses the sanitiser on your wounds but he notices you don't flinch.
"You didn't think to warn him?"
"I was about to, however it was too late."
"You make it sound like he died." You laugh.
Ramattra's vocaliser rumbles with laughter as he shakes his head. "His ego, maybe. But he is okay. A small dent in his plating but there was nothing to be concerned about."
The omnic had finished bandaging your arm by the time he had finished talking. He had kept your mind and eyes away from the cuts.
"I do not wish to see you hurt, [y/n]." He places your arm down but his hand still remains in yours.
You smile at him, thankful for the gentleness he had shown you. "Unless I fall."
Summary ~ Ghost comes to your room after a rough mission.
Disclaimer ~ I do not own Call Of Duty or any of its characters.
Word Count ~ 2.2k
Warnings ~ injuries, blood, medical mumbo-jumbo, Simon being a worry wort, potentially OOC Simon (it's cute so idc), fluff, angst, no use of Y/n
Call Of Duty Masterlist
A/n ~ Inspired by the song Sailboat Bed by The Devil Music Co.
••••••
By most standards the mission was a complete success; everyone made it out alive, and you completed your objective.
You considered the mission a success, Ghost, however, did not.
This was extremely evident to everyone who was sitting in the plane on the flight back to base. Ghost barely said a word to anyone as the medic worked to patch you and Soap up, Soap taking priority due to the gunshot wound in his stomach.
You knew Ghost blamed himself for the two of you getting hurt, it was on his watch that it happened after all.
You could see the way he watched his friend as the medics did what they could to stabilize him, the large blood stain on the floor seeming to hold most of his attention from where he sat along the wall.
He made the call for you and Soap to go in even though the building hadn't been cleared, he blamed himself for Soap getting shot and being so close to death that you swore you could see the reaper looming over him. He blamed himself for you getting into a close-quarters fight with a man twice your size while trying to protect the young sergeant, the fight leaving you unconscious on the floor with a large gash on your head.
Gaz and Ghost made it inside the building and found you pressing your hands to Soap’s bleeding gut, you were still in a daze from having blacked out and blood was dripping down your face as you began to panic. The man on the ground bleeding too much for you to stop with your bare hands.
Ghost went into soldier mode and focused solely on getting his injured teammates out safely.
It wasn't until you all loaded up in the evac plane that he shut down and blocked everyone out.
The second the plane landed you and Soap were rushed to the infirmary, he was taken back to surgery while you were sent to get your head stitched up.
You spent a couple of hours in the medical wing while they ran several different tests on you, all of which confirmed you were severely concussed.
Ghost hadn't been seen by anyone since the plane landed, it was Price who came and told you that Soap was gonna be alright and it was Gaz who came to keep you company while the doctors finished up their tests and eventually walked you back to your room.
You were exhausted when you finally crawled into bed.
The pounding in your head wasn't the only thing keeping you awake though, you were worried about Soap and you were worried about Ghost.
You had seen him shut down like this on a few different occasions, in the days following he would disappear from the base, no one knew where he went except Price but he would never tell anyone.
You expected not to see your fellow lieutenant for the next few days, it was normal.
What you didn't expect was to get a knock at your door at nearly three in the morning only to find him standing on the other side.
“Ghost?” You furrowed your brows and looked up at the masked man while leaning heavily on the doorframe, your body feeling like it was rocking back and forth as you stood.
His eyes were on the wall next to your open door, the dark paint still caked into the creases around them as he looked anywhere but at you.
Cautiously, you moved a hand toward him, your movements slow like you were reaching for a wild animal and you were afraid it would bolt the second you touched it.
“Simon?”
The sound of his name falling from your lips was what made him meet your eyes, the tired almost broken look behind them making your heart sink to your stomach.
Your hand connected with his bare arm, the inked skin burning against your palm, “Come on.” You tugged him into your room while using the contact to steady yourself.
Silently, the large soldier followed you into your room, the dark area welcoming him with open arms as you pushed the door shut behind you.
“What's wrong?” You asked quietly while moving to stand in front of him.
As expected, he said nothing and instead lifted his hand to your face. His fingers lightly grazed along your skin near the stitchess on your forehead, the touch feeling like a static shock through your body.
There was no label on whatever the relationship between you and Simon was, neither of you really knew what it was.
You would both seek each other out after rough missions, you would seek out the presence of one another whether it was sitting silently outside the hanger looking at the stars or laying next to each other under the blankets.
Whatever you were it wasn't “just friends” and it certainly wasn't “just coworkers”
“Are you okay?” His voice was soft, gentle, just like his fingers as he pushed your hair back behind your ear.
You nodded and pressed your hand over his on your face, your eyes closing at the contact.
“I'm alright.”
His eyes searched your own, looking for any sign that you weren't telling the truth.
“I'm sorry.”
You loosed a breath and pulled his hand off of your face down to your chest so you could press it against your heart, “Feel that?”
He nodded slowly.
“You know what that is right?”
His eyes were on your connected hands, “Your heart.”
“And you feel it beating?”
He nodded again.
“That means I'm okay.” You explained to him.
He spread his hand across your sternum, his fingers stretching up to the bare skin of your neck as he savored the dull feeling of your heart beating against his palm.
Your hands found their way to his face and moved down so they were resting on either side of his chin, your fingers playing with the bottom of his mask, “Can I take this off?”
A low hum rumbled in his chest as his way of giving you permission to remove it, permission to see him.
You slid the rough fabric up over his jaw, then his chin, then his eyes, until he was no longer looking at you past the dark cloth and you could see his entire face.
“There you are.” You smiled up at him and cupped his chin with your hands, the stubble along his jaw poking your palm, “It's not your fault.”
He tensed up. His entire body went back to its usual rigid state and he stepped away from you, your hands still burning from his touch even after it was gone.
“You two went in there on my order.” His mouth was turned down in a frown, one you knew was a permanent fixture on his face, “I sent you in there.”
You sat down on the bed behind you, “You had no way of knowing there was a whole squad in that building.”
His chest rose slowly as he breathed in a deep breath, “I should have sent more men with you to clear that building.”
“And Johnny and I should have been able to handle it, sometimes things go wrong Simon.” You tapped your thumbs on your knees, the thick fabric of your sweatpants catching on the dry skin of your fingers.
The dark circles under Simon’s eyes weren't just from the grease paint he wore religiously, you knew that.
“I made a call, and that call almost got you both killed.” His brows lowered as his frown deepened
You stood from the mattress and breathed in slowly, the room spun for a moment before you were able to regain your bearings, “You listen to me, Simon.”
He watched you and moved to grab your arm and steady you.
“Nothing that happened out there was your fault, you hear me?”
He squeezed your arm, “I'm a lieutenant, I'm supposed to keep my team safe.”
“So am I, you think I haven't been beating myself up for letting Soap get shot on my watch?” You grabbed his arm and slid your hand down to meet his.
His shoulders slumped and his dark eyes scanned your face, “I can't lose you.” his voice cracked slightly.
His words were a confession, one he had yet to even admit to himself and was now saying aloud for you both to hear.
“Simon.”
He tugged on your arm and pulled you closer to him while his other hand moved up to rest behind your ear, his fingers pressing to the pulse point and tangling in your hair.
“I can't.” He repeated while staring down at you.
You leaned forward and rested your head on his chest, “You didn't lose me.”
Your body pressed against his was what made the dam break, it was all he needed to drop his shoulders and wrap his arms around your back to hold you closer to him.
He inhaled a shaky breath as you slid your arms under his and held onto him.
“When was the last time you got a full night's sleep, Simon?” You whispered against his chest as his head rested on top of yours.
He shrugged.
“Stay in here tonight, ‘kay?”
His nonverbal answer was to slide his arms down from your back to your thighs, his hands grabbing them tight and lifting you up to carry you back a few steps to the bed.
Your back hit the mattress and your head fell back onto your pillow moments before Simon pulled away from you. You were about to protest at the loss of contact until he climbed up onto the bed and dropped his body on top of yours and his head onto your stomach.
His back rose and fell as he exhaled, “Is this okay?” He muttered as he tilted his head to the side.
“It's perfect.” You pulled your arms free and rested them on either side of his face, “Want me to scratch your back?”
This was something you had learned that he loved, you learned it on accident one night when he was in your room after having a nightmare. He was sitting beside you on the edge of the bed explaining what he had dreamed about, it took some convincing for you to even get him to do that. You reached over and ran your fingers down his back, at first he froze and tensed up, but it didn't take long for him to melt into your touch.
Your offer hung in the air for a few seconds before he nodded slowly and you began raking your fingers along his t-shirt.
The sigh that fell from his lips was one of pure bliss.
You both stayed like this for what felt like forever, you ran your fingers up and down his back and into his messy hair while he lay on top of you.
After a while you were convinced he had fallen asleep, his breathing was slow and even like he had finally given into the exhaustion that was clear on his face.
You stopped your motion across his spine and ran a finger along the stitches by your hairline, the raised skin making you cringe as Simon lifted his head and looked up at you.
“I thought you were asleep.” You furrowed your brows.
He shook his head and rolled off of you so he was laying beside you, “I was listenin’ to you breathe.” He stared over at you, “You tired?” His eyes dropped down to your lips for a split second before moving back up to your eyes.
You nodded and used your legs to pull the blanket up within your reach, “You staying?”
“Mmhm,” He hummed and grabbed your waist to pull you over to him, your back pressed against his chest as he slid an arm under your neck for you to lay on.
“What if I wanted to be the big spoon?” You glanced back at him with a raised brow.
He squeezed your hip and pulled you tighter against him, “Too bad then.” He pressed his face to the back of your neck and breathed out against it, the feeling of his breath against your skin sending chills down your spine.
“This is nice.” You muttered while closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his hand moving along your hip.
“I sleep better when I'm with you,” He whispered.
You hummed quietly, “Then you should sleep with me more often.”
“If you'll have me I will.” He pulled the blanket up over top of you both.
“You're welcome any time, you know that.”
He slid his hand forward to rest on your stomach, “I just need to know you're safe.”
“You can hold me as long as you need to know that I am.”
You knew he would need to hold you forever to know that you were safe. One thing he did know though was that you were safest when you were in his arms.
Blood Stained Silk (Simon “Ghost” Riley X Fem!Reader)
Summary ~ You and Simon go undercover at an auction.
Disclaimer ~ I do not own any modern warfare characters.
Word Count ~ 5.4k (it's a biggin y'all)
Warnings ~ tension, blood, guns, violence, Ghost being a gentleman, no use of Y/n
Call Of Duty Masterlist
<Dialogue in italics with what is being spoken in Russian>
••••••
The heels of your shoes clicked loudly on the tiled floor as you walked down the hallway toward the briefing room, your hands absentmindedly smoothing the silk fabric of the dress against your legs. You felt exposed walking around without your vest or armor plates on, the dress you wore having a severe lack of pockets didn't help this feeling.
The only weapons you had on you was a small handgun that was concealed on the side of your thigh where you could easily reach it through the slit in the fabric, your second and final weapon was a small knife that fit neatly inside the lining of your clutch.
Your hair was usually tied back in a tight bun at the base of your neck, so the loose feeling of it covering your ears and neck felt almost foreign to you. It wasn't often that you got to really dress up for missions but when you did you went all out with your hair and makeup.
The mission you and Ghost had been paired up for was an undercover missing, you would be sneaking into a rather high-profile black market weapon auction to find names of the various clients and donors providing the weapons. You were going to be blending in with the crowd acting as a buyer while Ghost would be acting as your bodyguard as well as actually being your bodyguard.
You leaned against the glass door of the briefing room and pushed it open while reaching your hands up to adjust the thin straps of your dress. As soon as you were inside the room you stopped in your tracks and stared at Ghost who was hunched over the table going over a few things with Price and Laswell. It wasn't the fact that he was in there that made you freeze, it was the fact that he was wearing an all-black tux, his usual skull mask had been swapped for a plain black one to match his suit and blend in a bit more.
“Glad you could join us,” Laswell smirked at you having caught you gawking at Ghost.
You jokingly glared at her, “Sorry I'm late, had to get all prettied up.” You smiled sweetly as you strolled over to lean against the table beside Price, “What fun things are you lot looking at?” You crossed your arms and fiddled with the small gold necklace resting against your chest.
“Floor plans.” Price mumbled without taking his eyes off the papers.
You frowned, “Nothing has changed right? Because I have the layout of that building memorized.” You turned around to look down at the papers, the familir blueprints and floor plans for the large building spread out in front of you.
“You memorized them? We got these last night.” Ghost looked up at you.
His eyes were usually surrounded by a dark grease paint, but tonight the clean pale skin around his eyes peeked through the holes in the mask.
“I couldn't sleep, needed something to do so I memorized the floor plans.” You shrugged and noticed Ghost’s gaze lingering on you as you turned away to face Laswell, “Plans still the same?” You raised an eyebrow while trying to ignore the holes being burned into your exposed skin by Ghost’s stare.
You forced your eyes to stay on Laswell as she started talking, “You two will be flying in via helo and meeting a car at the LZ, from there you're going to be heading to the auction hall.” Kate grabbed a small envelope from the end of the table and handed it over to you, “For the duration of this mission your name is Anya Petrova, Ghost is to remain at your side at all times.”
You opened the envelope and pulled out the Russian ID with your picture and fake name on it, “You really think I can pass as Russain?” You looked up at her skeptically.
“You've done it before.” Price glanced over at you.
You shrugged and put the ID in your clutch, “Fair enough.”
The first time you had met the captain he nearly killed you because he had no idea you were an undercover CIA agent, he almost shot you.
“Any questions?” Laswell looked between you and Ghost.
“No ma'am.” Ghost and you spoke at the same time.
“Then let's get this show on the road.”
•••
Ghost was a man of few words, you were not.
So by the time you were nearing the auction hall you were sure you had annoyed the man to death with your constant blabbering about anything and everything that came to your mind. You tended to ramble when you were nervous, and you were always nervous before a mission, especially undercover ones.
When an entire mission hinged on your ability to lie to people's faces and have them believe every word of it, anyone would be stressed when put in that position.
Well, almost everyone.
Ghost didn't seem to be even remotely phased by his new role as Anya Petrova’s bodyguard, he actually fit the role quite well, opening doors for you and offering you his hand to step in and out of the helicopter. His silent presence alone was enough to ward off anyone looking for a fight.
You carefully ran the dark red lipstick along your lips as you stared at your small reflection in the mirror sitting in your palm, your hand steady as you applied the color.
“Do you always wear the mask?” You asked your companion as you checked your face over one last time before snapping the mirror closed and sliding it back into your clutch.
“Yeah.” He grumbled.
You closed your clutch and shifted your position so you were facing him, the small confines of the back seat meant you were both sitting much closer than either of you was comfortable with.
“So how do you eat?”
He didn't roll his eyes but you could tell he wanted to, “I take the mask off.”
“So you don't always wear it.” You made a ‘tsk’ sound with your mouth, “Can't even trust my own bodyguard.” You shook your head.
He pulled his eyes away from you and reached his hand to the pocket Inside the lining of his suit jacket, “Here, your comm.” He handed you the small round device.
You lifted the object and inspected it, you had used one like this on many occasions. You tilted your head to the side so your hair would move away from your ear allowing you to put your comm in, once it was securely in place you smoothed out your hair and turned to look at Ghost again.
“How do I look?” You asked him with a raised brow.
Whether or not he tried to hide it you still caught his eyes drop down to your body for a split second before moving back up to your face, “Like some rich politician’s daughter.” He said before turning his gaze back to the front of the car where the driver sat.
“I'm flattered.”
The large building was now in your view, the long line of dark vehicles in front of it earning your attention, all sorts of men and women were walking up the staircase past the many armed guards. Lights lined the floor along the outside of the building illuminating the white stone pillars along the front, the place looked like it was some kind of palace.
Your back stiffened as the driver pulled into the line of cars and you got closer and closer to the start of your act, your intricate lie to fool every single person outside of the vehicle. You inhaled a deep breath rubbed your palms along the tops of your thighs, a soothing motion to help calm your nerves.
As soon as the driver signaled back to you both that you could get out Ghost climbed out on his side and walked around the car before opening your door for you. He offered you his arm and you gladly took it as you slid out of the car and adjusted the skirt of your dress.
The comforting weight of the gun under your dress was what you focused on as you held onto Ghost’s arm and the two of you began making your way up the stairs along with the rest of the crowd.
“You look nice.” Ghost spoke quietly, his eyes staying forward.
You looked down and smiled faintly, “You clean up pretty good yourself, Riley.” You spoke in your new voice for the first time that night, the heavy Russian accent sounding foreign on your tongue.
This was far from the first time you had worked with The Ghost, it was one of the many times the two of you had been paired up together on a mission. Price and Laswell had learned pretty early on that you both worked well together so they often tried to pair you up whenever they could for these types of jobs.
You kept your hand on Ghost’s arm until the two of you reached the top of the stairs and joined the long line of people being let into the auction. Bags and jackets were being searched by the guards, you knew Ghost had come in with zero weapons but you also knew he didn't need them.
The looming presence of the tall man behind you was a comfort as you approached the armed guards just outside the grand double doors.
As soon as the couple in front of you was let into the building the guards walked back to you and Ghost, their faces set in a near-permanent scowl as the older one stopped in front of you.
“Name.” He spoke in a thick accent that you immediately identified as Russian.
“Anya Petrova.” You smiled sweetly up at the guard making sure you bat your eyelashes at him a few times as you handed your clutch to him.
The man behind him began checking his tablet, looking to see if your name was on the guest list, it was.
“Who is he?” The man in front of you pointed to Ghost.
You sighed, “Personal security, he's only with me on my father's request.” You rolled your eyes, “The man acts like he doesn't trust me to come here on my own.”
The guard ignored your rambles as he checked the inside of your clutch, all he saw was what you wanted him to see; lipstick, a small compact mirror, a wallet, a half-empty pack of gum, and a few travel makeup wipes. To him, it was just a normal collection of items owned by a girl who he assumed came here to get herself someone to share her bed with tonight.
He handed your clutch back and nodded, “You're both good to go.”
You looked back at Ghost, “Come on.” You grinned at him and started into the building.
•••
The inside of the building was just as grand as the outside. Large crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings and the night sky could be seen through the open glass windows lining the roof. The floors were polished so much you could almost see your reflection in them as you walked, your heels clicking loudly.
Ghost stayed right behind you as you maneuvered your way through the crowd into the main area where the auction itself would be taking place. You occasionally felt his hand against the small of your back whenever you would step around someone, his body moving to stand between you and them.
Most of the people around you were laughing loudly and carrying on with their dates while you and Ghost moved to the middle of the room, the feeling of unease that settled in your stomach before you got out of the car had yet to clear.
You stepped up beside Ghost and looped one arm under his resting it against his back, his hand fell into place on your hip as he held you close to him
“Northeast corner of the balcony.” You smiled up at him as if you were just a girl attempting to flirt with her bodyguard.
You saw his eyes flicker up to where you had said, “What about it?”
“There's a doorway there, and that's where I need to be.” You pulled away from him and began searching the crowd, looking for your next victim.
Your eyes settled on one of the men speaking with the guards, a clearly visible earpiece looped around his ear, and the way he was berating the guard letting you know that he was someone in charge.
“And I just found my way in.”
You walked away from Ghost and he followed, “Care to share with the class?” He matched your pace.
“Go blend in, I'm gonna go see if mustache over there wants some company.”
Ghost stopped your march with a hand clamping down on your elbow, “We are supposed to stick together.”
You frowned, “I mean if you wanna go flirt with the guy while I stay back by all means.”
“What? No, I don't want to.” He sighed, his hand moving up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Grab my butt.” You squinted up at him.
You have never seen Ghost so close to losing his composure, “What?”
“I said grab my butt, and make it look good Riley.”
Ghost’s shoulders slumped for a moment before he straightened his posture, “You had better make this worth it.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” You purred.
He rolled his eyes and a moment later you felt his hand squeeze onto your rear. You jumped right into the act and shoved him away from you, shouting at him in Russain to get away.
Immediately people turned to look at you, and so did the guards.
“Get away from me you disgusting pig!” You shouted at Ghost in Russian, his eyes going wide for a moment before stepping back away from you and stepped into the crowd.
You whirled around and stormed over to the guard you had been eyeing earlier, “Did you see what he did?!”
The man stared at you wide-eyed, “Calm down miss,” He stepped toward you so he was now standing directly in front of you.
You placed your hand on his chest and gripped his jacket, acting as if you were already a bit tipsy, “Aren't you going to do anything?” you leaned into him.
You didn't know where Ghost had disappeared to but you knew wherever he was his eyes were boring into your back as you pressed yourself against the guard, he didn't even notice your other hand unclipping his badge from his belt.
The man cursed under his breath in Russian before pulling your arms off of him, “Go get yourself another drink, you won't care about it in a few minutes.” He groaned.
You stumbled off of him and took a step back, slurring your words together to liven up the act even more, “You're no fun” You frowned but walked back toward the bar set up along the wall anyway.
You slid the security badge inside your clutch and straightened your walk, your hand rising to your ear, “Where you at big guy?” You played off hitting your comm by brushing your hair out of your face.
A moment later Ghost’s rough voice sounded in your ear, “Somewhere with a good view.”
You looked up and sure enough, there he was on the balcony above you, his dark suit blending in with the shadows but his eyes still stood out to you, “Hope you enjoyed the show.” You mumbled as you leaned against the counter of the bar and flagged down the bartender.
“Did you get us a way in that door?” He ignored your previous question.
You placed your clutch on the countertop and tapped it with your finger, “We should be long gone before he realizes it's missing.” you quickly ordered a club soda from the bartender and left a small stack of money on the counter, sauntering away with your drink in hand.
“Go to your right, there is a staircase that leads up here, no guards.” Ghost instructed you.
You frowned as you pushed your way toward the outside of the crowd, “Really? No guards?” You downed the liquid in one swig.
“Not anymore.”
Worked for you.
You spun around and made sure no guards were looking in your direction before ducking under the black rope that covered the opening to the staircase, a sign that said ‘authorized personnel only’ in Russian hung right next to the door that you ignored.
The warm lighting in the stairwell perfectly accented the white marvel floors and walls, the faint glow of the lamps along the walls reflecting off of the windows to create a beautiful luminance.
You held up the bottom of your dress as you walked up the stairs and noticed Ghost at the top waiting for you. You gave him a small smile as you marched up the last few stairs and held your clutch up, before you could say anything he held his fingers up to his mask where his lips were to silence you.
Your smile dropped as you watched him glance over his shoulder.
He cursed under his breath before closing the distance between you both in two large steps, “Sorry about this.” He sighed.
“What?”
His hands went to your waist and pushed you back against the cold wall as his head dipped to your neck, “Guards coming, play along.” He whispered before pulling the bottom of his mask up to reveal his lips.
You didn't have any time to admire what little of his face you could see before he was crashing his lips against yours and kissing you hard. It took you all of two seconds to kiss back and fall into the act —only maybe it wasn't an act to you— your hands flying up to grip the back of his mask which drew a quiet groan from his mouth, you hooked one leg around his hip and pulled him closer to you. One of Ghost’s hands traveled down further until it was resting on your lower back and pulling you closer to him, you didn't think it was even possible for the two of you to get any closer but he proved you wrong as he deepened the kiss.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw two guards freeze in the doorway before immediately turning away and shuffling off.
As soon as they were gone Ghost pulled away from you and gently sat you back down on the ground. Your mind was working a mile a minute as you tried to catch your breath, your head spinning and your heart pounding.
“Sorry about that.” Ghost mumbled while bringing his hand up to wipe the lipstick off of his lips.
You were sure your face was as red as your lips now, “Uh yeah… Yeah.” You didn't know what to say, your mind was blank.
“At least I know a new way to shut you up.” You caught sight of him smirking before he pulled his mask down over his face again.
You glared at him and you knew it had to be a sight, “Next time.” You pointed at him, “I'm shoving you up against the wall.”
He shrugged, “Fine by me.”
You choked on air, “Shut up Simon.” You walked past him and peeked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.
Your heart was still pounding in your chest as you pulled the key card out of your clutch and handed it behind you for Ghost to grab, he was walking just behind you while scanning the balcony for guards. The two that had caught you in that rather compromising position had scurried away to who knows where, for now, all you cared about was the fact that they weren't there.
“Server room is through that door, should only be a handful of guards inside.” You knelt outside your target door and slipped your hand under your dress to grab the gun strapped to your thigh, “this is for you because I know you like guns.” You handed the small pistol to the large man behind you.
He took it and turned it over, inspecting it, “What is this the world's smallest gun?” He checked the ammo and the silencer.
You rolled your eyes while fishing your knife out of your clutch, “Not exactly a lot of room to hide a shotgun under this dress Ghost.” You left your clutch on the floor while holding the knife tight in your hand, “Ready?”
He nodded and took the security badge from your hand, “Breach on three, you stay right behind me okay?” He looked down at you with a stern look in his eyes, one you could have sworn could pass as concern.
“Yes sir.” You smirked.
He counted quietly and as soon as he said three he scanned the badge and pushed the door open, gun raised in his hand as he pressed forward into the room. You stayed close behind him with your knife held up at the ready.
Ghost fired off three silenced shots before you even saw the men come around the corner, the sound of the gunshots was short and dull.
You saw two more men run at Ghost from the side, one of them swinging the but of his gun at his head stunning him. You quickly jumped into action and threw your knife at the one reaching for his radio, successfully stopping him from calling for backup with a knife in his forehead. The second guard lunged at you and slammed into your side, knocking you into the wall before he clamped his hand around your neck and started choking you.
You growled and brought your knee up where it connected directly with his crotch causing him to release you and stumble backward, his hands moving down to cup his groin. Ghost came up behind him and grabbed a hold of his head, his eyes cold as he jerked the man's head to the side. The sound of his neck snapping echoed off of the walls as Ghost dropped his body to the floor and moved over to you.
“You alright?” He looked down at you as you rubbed a hand along your neck, the exposed skin now sore and irritated.
“I'll be fine.” You waved him off and walked past him into the now-empty server room.
The quiet hum of the electronics around you was an almost comforting noise as you approached one of the computers sitting on the desk. You sat down on the stool and pulled yourself close to the desk, luckily for you the guards had neglected to log out when you and Ghost stormed the room.
“You know what you're doing?” Ghost stood behind you while keeping a close eye on the door.
You glanced back at him as you pulled the thick gold bangle off of your wrist, “Now since when did you doubt me?” You raised a brow.
You pulled at the bangle causing it to break apart and reveal a USB Drive inside the bracelet.
“I'll watch the door.” He grumbled.
You made quick work of searching through the various files on the computer, your eyes scanning over them to find the one you needed. As soon as you did you plugged in the drive and began downloading all of it onto the small device, a loading screen appearing in front of you.
“You may want to hurry it up in there, I think they're starting to realize something is up.” Ghost spoke through the earpiece.
“It's almost done downloading, where's our ride?” You stared at the loading bar on the screen, willing it to move faster.
Footsteps sounded behind you and you spun around in your seat to see Ghost standing in the doorway, “Back entrance, we need to go.” He grabbed your knife from the floor where it had fallen and walked over to you.
You stared at the loading bar and as soon as it hit 100% you pulled the drive out of the computer and clipped it back into a bracelet, “Okay I'm good.” You slid the bracelet back onto your wrist and stood.
Ghost pulled his suit jacket off and tossed it to you, “Put that on.”
“Why?” You asked while slipping your arms into the sleeves of the jacket.
He glanced over at you and pointed to his neck, “Your neck is bruised and we need to blend in.”
You pulled the jacket tight around yourself and walked over to Ghost, “I'm following you hot stuff.” You grabbed the knife from his hand and shoved it into the pocket of the jacket.
Ghost lead you out of the server room and grabbed your clutch from the floor.
He had been right in saying the guards knew something was up, the auction room floor was now swarming with guards searching the guests for whoever didn't belong. They still didn't know you were up here so you could use that to your advantage.
You followed behind Ghost as he moved aling the balcony and cut into a side room, the interior of the room looked to be a storage room of some sort, with all sorts of different furniture scattered around the room with white tarps covering them. On the far end of the room was a window that lead to the outside, which was your way out.
“Car is just out there.” Ghost said while walking toward the window.
You leaned against a covered table and slipped your feet out of the heels that had been rubbing your toes for the last hour.
“What are you doing?” Ghost asked from where he now stood next to the open window.
“Taking these wretched shoes off.” You walked over to him with your heels hanging from your fingers, “I have blisters already.”
Ghost held out his hand for you and you took it allowing him to help you up into the window ledge. You ducked down slightly and stepped out onto the shingled awning just outside the window, the drop below you making your stomach turn slightly.
You heard the window shut as Ghost stepped out behind you, “This way.” He spoke quietly as he crouched and walked across the awning.
You followed him silently and listened as yelling erupted from inside, they must have found the dead guards. You smiled to yourself as Ghost stopped in front of you and looked over the edge.
“We jump here.”
You blinked and looked over the edge where your car from earlier was parked, “Age before beauty.” You glanced over at him.
He didn't say anything else as he slid off the edge and landed on the roof of the car with a loud thump and grunt, the metal roof denting under the force of his impact, “Your turn sweetheart.” He called up to you, “I'll catch ya.”
You trusted that he would but you still nervously looked over the edge, “Don't you dare drop me.” You dropped your shoes over the edge and watched as he caught them.
“Now you missy.” He stared up at you.
You sighed and pushed yourself off the edge, the wind blowing through your hair as you dropped down and two strong hands grabbed a hold of your waist successfully stopping your fall.
A long breath fell from your lips as you stared directly at Ghost’s chest, his grip on you tightening for a moment before going slack and releasing you.
“Let's get out of here before they lock down the area.” Ghost jumped off of the roof with your shoes still in his hand while reaching up to give you his other hand.
You grabbed it tight and slid down off the car, your feet connecting with the wet pavement, “Thanks.”
Ghost opened your door for you before walking around to the driver's side and climbing into the front seat. The keys had been left in the car for you so it didn't take long before Ghost was speeding down the driveway onto the main road.
•••
You sat with your legs crossed in front of you on the edge of the table in the briefing room, a makeup wipe in hand as you worked on removing the cosmetics from your face. Ghost was sitting silently in the chair to your left while Laswell and Price looked over the information you had both retrieved.
You still wore your dress and Ghost’s jacket but you now had on a pair of thick black socks so you didn't need to walk around barefoot, you refused to put the heels back on. Ghost had shed a few pieces of his outfit as well and now lacked his tie, his dress black shirt was now unbuttoned a bit at the top and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows putting his tattoos on full display.
“Did I get it all off?” You looked at Ghost as you folded up the stained makeup wipe.
He glanced up at your face, his eyes scanning over you for a second, ”Yeah, looks like it.”
“You guys did a good job out there tonight,” Laswell spoke, pulling both of your eyes to her, “We have the names of dozens of weapons suppliers.”
“Locations are there too right?” You crossed one leg over your knee and leaned on your arm.
Price nodded, “We are going to be sending out groups to raid them in the next few days, we need to catch them before they move.”
“Go get some rest you too, you both look exhausted.” Kate’s voice softened.
You frowned, “Sure you don't need us?”
“If we do we will let you know, for now enjoy some down time.”
Ghost didn't need to be told twice, he was out of his seat and out the door before you were even off the table. You hopped onto the floor and followed behind him, your sock-clad feet padding along the cold tiled floor as you moved.
“Ghost,” You called out to him as you jogged up beside him and slipped his jacket off your shoulders, “This is yours.” You handed it to him.
He furrowed his brows as he took the black jacket from your hand, “You did a good job out there Y/n.” He met your eyes.
You smiled and looked down at your socks, “Thanks, it's always fun working with you, Simon.” You didn't use his first name often, “Gotta say, I didn't know you were such a good kisser.” You smirked.
He held your stare, “I think you just liked being manhandled.” He shrugged and walked away.
Your mouth fell open as you stared at his back, “And what if I did?” You called out.
“Good night!” He waved his hand over his shoulder and had never been so glad for the mask covering his face as the heat rose to his cheeks.
He wanted to learn how to braid your hair, it irritated you if it was down too long, he kept note of that. But he didn't fully understand the way human hair works.
"Oh, I see."
Ramattra let go of the hair and readjusted his hands, this time he had it, it was too loose but he had the baseline down.
"See, that was much better, but redo it and pull it a little."
"You want me to pull your hair?"
"Well.. It makes the braid tighter so it has a lesser chance of falling out."
He did as you asked, but kept peeking over your shoulder to make sure he didn't hurt you.
"I will tell you if you pull too hard, you've literally pulled harder during sex."
"That- That was very uncalled for."
————
Truth is guys, I dunno how to braid either.. @ya-zz
Summary ~ Your relationship with Simon has went on longer than either of you planned for it to, so when Simon goes missing after being sent on a solo mission you’re left to wonder about your future with him.
Disclaimer ~ I do not own Call of Duty or any of its characters.
Word Count ~ 6.6k
Warnings ~ Angst, whump, fluff, death, guns, gunfights, slightly spicy at times (All PG), blood, injuries, no use of Y/n.
Modern Warfare Masterlist
Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist
A/n ~ I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here, it has been reposted without my permission.
Blood Stained Silk | Black Silk
••••••
Early morning light filtered in through the small gap in between the black-out curtains hanging over the windows, a long line of orange sunlight stretching across the floor and over the foot of the bed. Your eyes remained shut as you traced your finger over the bare chest of the man laying beside you, his muscular arm resting under your neck and acting as your pillow.
“This is a new one.” You muttered as your finger moved over a raised bit of skin just below his peck—a bullet wound that had been crudely stitched up and had since faded into a jagged red scar.
Simon’s chest rose and his arm flexed around you as he lifted his head and looked down at the scar you were running your finger over, “Bullet in Russia I think,” His voice was still heavy from sleep, deeper than usual holding a rough tone, “had to stitch it up myself.”
“I can tell.” You dropped your head back onto his arm and gaze up at the ceiling.
Simon shifted and rolled from his back to his side so he was facing you, his arm moving to stretch over your stomach and hold onto your hip. A small smile formed on your lips as Simon pulled you into him using the hand on your hip, his face dipping down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck. Gentle kisses were pressed to your neck over the top of a freshly healed cut—one that would soon be a scar.
“I noticed this one last night.” One more kiss was pressed to the scar before Simon pulled back and looked down at you, “What happened?” He moved his hand up and brushed his calloused fingers over your neck, his brow pressing down as he followed the line of the cut with his eyes.
Your hand moved up to touch the cut, your fingers brushing against Simon’s, “I was assigned to help with a hostage rescue a few weeks ago. One of the guys got a lucky hit in, swiped me with his knife before I could take him out.”
Simon hummed and dropped his head to the side so it was resting on the same arm you were, “You get the hostages?” his eyes bounced around your face—something you often caught him doing, it was as if he was trying to memorize each line and mark that sat on your skin to tuck away somewhere inside his mind.
“Did I get the hostages?” You scoffed, “You really askin’ me that?”
His chest rumbled as a quiet chuckle sounded, the noise making your stomach do flips as you watched the lines at the corners of his eyes scrunch up. Stray bits of his black grease paint still stained the area around his eyes which made him look like he had applied mascara or eyeliner, something you always teased him about.
Your eyes drifted from Simon’s face to the wall behind him, the white walls were bare save for the few framed photos hanging in the middle. One was a picture of Simon with the rest of his task force, Soap was standing beside him holding both of his hands up like they were guns and smiling brightly for the camera. The one that always caught your eye though was the photo that was clearly old—the crumpled burnt edges telling you as much—it was a picture of a woman with two young boys sitting on her lap, one of them was sticking his tongue out at the camera while the other one was looking over the shoulder of the woman.
You had asked Simon about that specific photo on several different occasions, each time he would go quiet and immediately change the subject.
The clock on the nightstand behind Simon told you that it was already well into the early morning and that he would need to leave soon.
A fact that quickly put a halt to the bubbly feeling in your stomach.
“When do you have to leave?” You looked back down at his face and furrowed your brows.
Simon turned onto his back so he could look behind him at the clock, a heavy sigh falling from his lips, “Gotta be there in an hour.” He pulled his arm out from under your neck and raised both of his hands to his face where he rubbed his eyes slowly.
“You should get up and get ready then.”
“That excited to get rid of me huh?”
Reluctantly, Simon sat up taking the blanket with him and causing the cool air of the bedroom to hit your shoulders, the thin tank top you wore doing little to block out the breeze from the fan.
Simon rolled his shoulders and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he hunched his back and clenched his hands together, “Where are they sending you next?” He cleared his throat after speaking, his voice going back to its usual baritone level.
“Laswell wants me in Amsterdam, meeting up with one of her informants to see about some black market arms deal they’ve been tracking.” You sat up and pushed the blanket off the rest of the way while crawling across the bed toward Simon.
You slid your arms under his and hugged him from behind, an action that once would have made the stoic man tense up but now he leaned back into your body comfortably. Pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades, Simon slid one of his hands over the top of yours and laced his fingers with yours.
“I’m gonna be off the grid for a while, not sure when I’ll be back.” Simon ran his free hand through his messy hair while pulling your hand up to his lips and kissing a small scar along your knuckles.
“Price sending you in alone?” You leaned back on your heels and stared at the back of his head.
Simon had told you about his mission last night when the two of you were laying in bed, chests heaving and exhaustion kicking in as he quietly explained his infiltration mission in Russia. What he had neglected to tell you though was the fact that he was going in alone, with no backup. You knew he was more than capable of carrying out a mission like that on his own, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.
It had been well over a year since the mission in Russia.
Since that night in his hotel room.
The two of you kept your complicated relationship to yourselves, both of you acting as nothing more than coworkers when you would be paired up with him and the rest of the task force. While the times you actually got to see each other were few and far between, you made the most of your time whenever you could.
“It’s a covert op, it’ll be easier sending someone in alone.” Simon stood and stretched once more, “Be gone for at least a week.”
You nodded slowly and followed the lines of ink along his forearm, “Try to come back in one piece if you can.”
Simon turned to face you as he slipped a shirt on over his head, “What? You worried about me?” He stepped toward where you were sitting on the edge of the bed and stood between your legs, “I’ll be back before you know it.”
That was nearly three weeks ago.
~
The soft chair creaked quietly under your weight as you leaned back and stretched your arms out in front of you. The computer screen in front of you was one of the only lights illuminating your office, the bright white screen causing your eyes to strain as you worked through a few reports from your last mission—a favor for Kate as she was currently swamped with meetings and reports of her own.
Your back was aching as you leaned forward and continued to fill out the mission report, the faint sound of your typing filling the room around you. Beside your keyboard sat a now-cold cup of coffee, the cup having sat next to you for far too long to maintain its hot temperature.
Regardless, you still drank it as you worked to finish up the last of the reports.
The monotonous desk work was a nice change of pace from your last mission—an undercover operation that landed you in the close company of a drug cartel, the op had been a complete success and the flow of illegal substances had been put to a stop.
The entire time you were on the assignment—just over two weeks—Simon had been a constant presence in the back of your mind.
It had now been three weeks since he left for his solo mission, and in that time you hadn’t heard anything from or about him.
While it was completely normal for you to go weeks at a time without hearing from him, something about this time just didn’t sit right with you and there had been several occasions where you almost found yourself asking Kate about him.
Unbeknownst to you though, all of that was about to change and you would finally get word about Simon.
As you were just about to finish one of your reports the door to your office burst open and in walked Kate Laswell.
“Well hello to you too Kate.” You leaned back in your chair and furrowed your brows, the unusually stoic look on the woman in front of you setting off all sorts of alarms in your mind, “What’s wrong?”
“I need you in the briefing room now.” She didn’t wait around for you to agree before turning on her heel and walking out of your office.
Without question, you put your computer into rest mode and downed the last of your cold coffee before following Kate through the mostly empty building.
There were only a handful of other people in the building considering it was the middle of the night, the only people still working being yourself, Kate, and a few other CIA agents who frequently stayed late. So seeing the silhouettes of several people in the conference room through the frosted glass windows surrounding it instantly told you that something was up.
Kate pushed open the glass door and held it open for you to follow, your eyes instantly settling on the three men standing inside—Captain Price and the rest of task force 141.
“Kate, what’s going on?”
The absence of the masked member of the task force didn’t go unnoticed by you, the volume of your internal alarms raising to a near-deafening level. You said nothing about it.
Kate walked around to the front of the long wooden table where the large screen hung on the wall, a map was displayed on the screen—Russia you quickly noted, “I need you working with Price and his team again.” Kate looked across the table at you as she plucked the remote from the surface in front of her.
Your arms folded across your chest as your eyes bounced around the room at each of the men, the solemn expressions on each of their faces only aiding in your panic.
“What’s the op?” You tilted your head up and stared ahead at the screen.
“Covert infiltration and hostage rescue.”
“Who’s the target?”
Kate pressed a button on the remote and a picture appeared on screen, the man displayed on screen being someone you were intimately familiar with.
Your stomach dropped as you stared at the skull mask looking back at you from the screen.
“Lieutenant Simon Riley.” Price spoke up this time, his arms moving to cross over his chest as he stepped up beside Kate and looked at you.
“Ghost.” Your throat was dry and your stomach began churning, “Who has him?” You feigned ignorance to his solo mission in Russia.
Price took Kate’s place and the remote from her hand as he pressed a button on it and causing another photo to appear on the screen next to Simon’s, “Ghost’s mission was to infiltrate and eliminate a man named Mikhail Morozov.” Price grabbed onto the straps of his vest and let his arms hang over his chest, “Morozov is a weapons dealer who sells almost exclusively to Vladimir Makarov, so taking him out was essential. Ghost was sent in alone to give him the highest chance of success we could, the only problem was Makarov had a mole in our ranks.”
Your stomach dropped, your eyes quickly bouncing to the other men in the room. Gaz’s face was more serious than you had ever seen it, the sergeant staring ahead at his captain with his brows pushed together. Soap had a small rubber ball in his hand that he was anxiously rolling with his fingers as one of his knees bounced lightly.
“So Morozov knew Ghost was coming?”
Price nodded, “Ghost went radio silent over two weeks ago, up until then he would call in to update on his status every twelve hours.” Price pressed another button on the remote and an audio transcript popped up over the photos on the screen, “This was his last update before things went silent on his end.”
Simon’s guff voice filled the room, his words disrupted by loud static and gunfire, “Price! There is a mole-“ a loud explosion came through the speakers, “They knew I was co-“ “Makarov has an inside man!” The call went silent.
The tension in the room could be easily felt by everyone around you, everyone going silent as Simon’s voice had.
“How do you know he’s alive?” Your words caught in your throat but you played it off by clearing your throat and looking down at your feet.
“Ghost’s a tough bastard, unbreakable by most standards.” Price started, “Makarov wouldn’t kill him until he got every bit of useful information out of him. Ghost will take that information to the grave with him.”
You were sure all color had drained from your face at this point, your ears were flooded with a loud roaring as Price and Kate exchanged a few more words. You listened silently as Kate took back over and explained the plan to infiltrate the building that they believed Simon to be in, Price jumping in to add that there would be no backup since they didn’t know who they could trust.
By the time the briefing was done, you felt numb.
Your hands tingled at your sides as you stared ahead at the photo of Simon on the screen.
Kate broke through your fogged mind by saying our name, “I need a word with you alone please.”
The men in the room got the message—clear out—and all stood before exiting the room.
“Sit.” Kate gestured to the chair beside her as she moved to sit down.
Silently, you crossed the room and pulled out the chair before sitting. Your hands clenched into tight fists causing you to flex them and stretch your cramping fingers out.
“The plane is landing now, so we have a few minutes before you all need to load up.” Kate leaned forward and rested an elbow on the table beside her, “So I’m gonna ask you this once.”
You sat up straight and pressed your brows together.
“Are you too close to this to complete the mission?”
Of all the things you expected Kate to say, that was the last.
“What are you talking about?” In hindsight, playing dumb with Kate Laswell was a horrible idea.
She sighed, one of her hands coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose, “I know about your relationship with Ghost, and I also know that up until this point, it has never affected either of your performances on missions.” She placed a hand on your knee, “You’ve done a lot of tough missions and seen a lot of hard things, but this is going to be different. Someone you care about Is your hostage to rescue, and there is a chance that he won’t even make it out.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but your words failed you as the only noise that came out was a strangled breath.
Kate moved forward so she could grab both of your hands and made you look her in the eye, “I need you to tell me the truth because I can’t send you out there if you aren’t in the right mindset. If I was in your position and it was my wife that was a hostage? I can’t say I would be at my best.”
“Things weren’t supposed to go this far,” you breathed while squeezing your eyes shut and inhaling slowly, “We both agreed that it was a temporary thing, but now I-“
“Say the word and I will keep you off of this op. Are you too close to Simon Riley to be able to do this?”
Your chest rose and fell slowly as you breathed in a calming breath.
“No.”
~
The sound of the helicopter lifting back into the air filled the clearing around you as you jumped out of the aircraft with the rest of the task force. Heavy boots hit the muddy ground as each of the men around you pulled their night vision goggles down over their faces and raised the rifles to scan the treeline ahead.
Kate and Price had briefed you and the rest of the task force on the mission—the main objective being to get Simon out. The building he was being held at was a heavily guarded warehouse, one that was the main hub for Morozov’s weapon market. The odds were completely against you and that was something that had been made abundantly clear as you stood in the briefing room between Soap and Gaz. None of you cared though, you were getting Simon back or you were going to die trying.
To your right, Soap was aiming his rifle at the edge of the trees in the distance, his posture tall and rigid as he waited for Price to start moving forward. When the captain did, you, Soap, and Gaz fell into line beside and behind him, moving as a single unit as the grass around you blew around from the breeze the helicopter’s blade caused.
The darkness of the clouded sky acted as cover for you as you moved across the field and into the trees, a light fall of rain slowly began to coat the black tactical gear you wore making the water bead up and sink into the fabric.
Price held his hand up to his side, his fingers curling into a fist signaling for you all to halt. Your eyes scanned the trees in front of you, the green tint from the night vision goggles making the surrounding forest look eerie and haunted.
“Two men, both armed.” Price’s hushed voice came through your earpiece as you watched the captain crouch and saw the laser from his gun’s scope appear in front of you—the laser was only visible to those of you wearing night vision goggles.
You settled your aim on one of the men in the distance, your finger dancing over the trigger of the gun as you waited for Price’s signal to drop them, “On your mark captain.” You whispered, your breath billowing up around you in the cold night air.
Price fired at the man he was aiming at, the silenced shot from his gun was immediately followed by one from your own gun and you watched as the two men dropped to the ground in motionless heaps—you and Price had hit your targets.
“Perfect shots you two.” Soap breathed as he stood back to his full height, his accent heavy as he kept his voice low.
“Keep your eyes peeled for more patrols, there will be more as we get closer to the warehouse.” Price murmured as he too stood.
Your mind was reeling as you followed behind the guys, your eyes bounced around the glowing green forest as you thought back to the conversation you had with Kate.
You bit down on the inside of your lips as you stepped through the mud, the pit of worry in your stomach hadn’t dissipated since the moment you walked into that conference room and were told about Simon being missing. You knew things had gone too far between you and Simon when you found yourself missing him, missing his company and his touch, missing the quiet talks you would both have while laying in bed in each other's arms.
Against all of your better judgment, you had let Simon Riley worm his way into your heart whether you liked it or not, and now you worried you couldn’t live without him.
The thought of losing him was enough to make you sick as you trudged through the trees and tried to focus on anything but the static in your head.
The four of you moved through the forest like a silent force, each one of you keeping your eyes peeled as you scanned the area around you. It wasn’t until you reached the edge of the trees that the large warehouse finally came into view, the sheer size of it making your stomach drop.
Price once again signaled for all of you to come to a halt, his fist being held up at his side as he stared ahead at the brightly lit building. You lifted your goggles from your head so you could see the building better, the bright lights causing your goggles to be far too bright as you rubbed your eyes slightly and waited for Price to speak.
“Our only advantage is that they don’t know we’re here.” Price lowered his rifle as he lifted his goggles from his face, “Let’s keep that advantage as long as we can.” He turned around to look at the three of you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before speaking again, “We split up into two groups from here. Soap, you’re with Gaz, the two of you are going to find the breakers to cut the lights, that will give us an edge.” Price glanced over at you, “And you’re with me, we are going to work our way into the warehouse to try and locate Ghost.”
You glanced over at Soap who nodded to Gaz, “And we have no idea what room Sim-Ghost is in?” You quickly corrected yourself and hoped no one read into your slight slip-up.
Price gave you no reaction to signal whether he had heard your slip-up, “As soon as the power is out they’re gonna close ranks, we find where the majority of their security is and chances are we find Ghost.”
Your gaze drifted to the building in front of you, several groups of guards patrolled the perimeter which would prove troublesome for you when you tried to get past them, you would likely have to take them out before heading in. The front of the warehouse held four large garage doors, two of which were open and you could see trucks being loaded with pallets and crates—if you had to guess you would say each of them was filled to the brim with illegal weapons.
“If we can drop the patrols quietly that might give us a better chance of getting in unseen.” You muttered while looking down the scope of your rifle at one of the groups of men patrolling the wall of the warehouse closest to you.
Price followed your gaze and watched the group of men walk in front of a door, “As soon as we drop them we move in, that door there is our entry point. Once we are inside we split up.”
And that was the last thing that was said between either of you before each of you took aim at one of the guards and took them out with silenced bullets. Moving as a unit, you all pushed forward out of the trees and into the brightly lit area as you walked toward the door. Your heads were on a swivel as you walked, your rifle raised and ready to fire should you see anyone.
The only sound coming from your group as you pushed toward the door was the soft thudding of your boots on the ground, you moved like ghosts in the night as you all lined up at the door ready to breach the building and fight your way in.
Price was closest to the door, then you, Soap and Gaz. Each of you watched the captain who had a gloved hand resting on the door handle, he inhaled slowly before nodding back to each of you and turning the handle.
The four of you moved inside silently, Price and Soap shooting the two men that were inside the small office-like room as Gaz pulled the door shut. Your gun was at the ready as you scanned the room around you, the two bodies laying on the floor not even fazing you as Soap knelt next to the man he had shot and pulled his radio off of his vest.
“Okay, we split up from here.” Price walked toward one of the two doors out of the room and gestured for you to follow him, “Get the power cut and then come meet up with us.” Price told Soap an Gaz who both nodded.
As soon as he finished talking and moved to open the door, a loud voice came over the loudspeaker, the hastily spoken words in Russian making your eyes go wide followed by a loud alarm.
“They found the bodies outside.” You translated the words for the rest of the group, “We gotta move.”
Price pushed the door open and went through without looking to see if you followed him because he knew you would, both of your guns raised as footsteps sounded down the long hall. As Price watched the hall in front of you, you kept your eyes on the hall behind you as you walked backward.
“Door at the end of the hall, we’ll duck in there.” Price whispered as the footsteps grew louder.
At the end of the hall you were watching, two armed men walked around the corner and immediately spotted you.
“Eyes on.” You called out before firing at the two men, your silenced shots finding their targets and causing the men to drop to the floor, a dark liquid pooling along the floor between them.
The sound of a door opening behind you came before Price spoke, “In here.”
Glancing behind you, you saw the door was open and Price was watching the hall behind you giving you an opening to duck inside. You went in with your gun raised, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when you found the room empty.
“Clear.”
The door clicked shut before the lock was turned, “Gaz, sit rep.” Price spoke into the open comms line.
Static sounded before Gaz responded, “We have eyes on the breakers captain, but we have heavy resistance.” Gunfire followed the Sargent’s voice making you cringe.
Price shot you a nervous look.
“Captain, the room is clear, cutting the power now.” Soap’s voice came through in your earpiece moments before the room around you went dark and the alarm went silent.
The room was illuminated in the familiar green glow of your night vision goggles as you pulled them down over your face and looked up at the captain, “Darkness is on our side once again sir.”
“Let’s make the most of it.”
You once again pushed down the pit of worry in your stomach as you followed Price out of the room and back into the down pitch black hallway. Anyone you came across was quickly shot down as they stumbled blindly in the dark, both you and the captain being able to see them clearly thanks to the night vision.
Price led you through the halls and deeper into the warehouse, you headed upstairs and out onto a catwalk that spanned across the open middle of the warehouse. Across the catwalk was a room lined with windows, and thanks to your goggles you were able to see six armed men outside and nearly a dozen armed men inside.
“That’s gotta be where they’re keeping him.” You stopped at the edge of the bridge that went to the other side, Price crouching on the opposite side of the entrance to the bridge.
“I count six outside, all armed.” He muttered as he watched the men move across the space and work to attach lights to their guns.
“Twice as many inside, maybe more.”
Price reached down and pressed the call button of his radio, “Soap, Gaz, northeast side of the warehouse, top floor. We found him.”
Looking through the window with the scope of your rifle, your heart stopped.
Through the window, you were able to see Simon.
He was sitting in a chair with his hands cuffed behind his back, his head was slumped forward but you were still able to see the bruises and blood that dripped from his unmasked face.
You felt like you were going to be sick.
Beside you, Price said your name for the third time. You had been too in your head to hear him the first two times.
His hand connected with your arm and caused you to jump and snap your head toward him, “Captain?”
“I asked if you were okay to do this.”
“Fine sir.”
His brows pressed together, you knew he saw through your lie, but he said nothing.
You and Price stayed out of view of the guards across the catwalk while you waited for Soap and Gaz, the two sergeants arriving less than ten minutes after Price had given them your location.
“You still got smokes?” Price looked over at you and you nodded, tapping the smoke grenade on your belt, “Good, we take out the guards outside and use that for cover to move inside.”
Each of you knew the risks of this going in, but that didn’t stop the nervous energy that hung in the air around you as you stared across the gap at the group of men outnumbering you two to one.
Before you moved out, Price pulled you to the side with a hand on your arm and looked down at you, “Kate told me you were good to go on this mission, was she right?”
“Yes sir.” Your voice was tight.
Price pushed his shoulders back and pulled his hand away from you, “Tell me again, but this time convince me.”
You inhaled slowly and looked past the captain, “I’m getting him back. I can do this.”
Price nodded.
Everything that happened next seemed to go in slow motion.
All at once, the four of you took out the six men on the other side of the catwalk. The shots sounded around you as curses and swears came from the men just before they dropped dead.
Then, you threw the smoke grenade across the catwalk and the already dark room was engulfed in smoke.
That was when you moved in.
Price led the four of you across the catwalk and stopped in front of the door, coughing could be heard from the other side of the door seconds before Soap kicked in the door. You and Gaz moved in first and began firing at anyone that moved, bodies dropped and thudded on the floor as the smoke began to dissipate.
Before you were able to celebrate taking out all of the men inside of the room, the lights came back on which temporarily blinded all of you as you frantically pushed your night vision goggles off your face.
The lights in the room seemed to be ten times brighter than normal after being in the dark so long, you blinked to try and make your eyes adjust and when you did you saw four more men rushing into the room with their weapons raised.
Gunfire erupted in the room around you, the three men behind you yelling and firing back as you lunged behind a table. Two bullets hit you, one went clean through your shoulder while the other hit you square in the chest. The plate in your vest stopped the bullet from flying through your chest, but it didn’t stop the pain that blossomed across your sternum as you fell flat on your back and clutched your shoulder.
Arms slid under yours and grabbed you from behind pulling you back behind the table so you were out of the line of fire, Gaz’s face coming into view as he pressed a hand to your bleeding shoulder. You noticed the blood dripping from his arm as he did so telling you he had also been hit.
“Get him on the ground now!” Price’s booming voice filled the room followed by a thud and loud cursing from Soap.
You pushed Gaz off of you as you sat up, your face twisting into a grimace as you did, “I’m alright.” You pressed your hand to your shoulder and your eyes immediately began searching the room.
On the floor beside you, Soap was pressing his knee into Morozov’s back holding him in place. Price was across the room working to undo the cuffs on Simon as you rushed forward and ignored the burning pain in your shoulder.
Simon was awake, his bruised tired eyes on you as you stepped in front of him and dropped onto your knees. Your hands went to either side of his face as you gently held onto it afraid you would hurt him more.
“Be back before you know it huh?” You recalled his last words to you as you searched his face.
A deep gash went across the bridge of his nose—one that would leave him with a new scar—and his cheekbone was heavily bruised, likely from being punched.
“Yeah well, I can’t be right all the time.” His voice was hoarse as he pulled his now free arms in front of him, “You’re hit.” His eyes went to your bleeding shoulder and you simply shrugged.
All eyes were on you and Simon, that much you knew and you didn’t care as you threw your arms around him and held onto him.
Simon, clearly caught off guard by your actions leaned back in the chair and grunted softly, “Easy there.” He chuckled quietly.
Behind you, Price ushered Soap and Gaz out of the room with Morozov in custody to give you and Simon a moment alone.
You pulled away from Simon and took a step back, “I hate you so much Simon.” You breathed.
His brows pushed together, the cut on his nose bleeding slightly more from the movement, “What?” He stood and looked down at you, one of his hands moving up to cradle his side.
“Do you know how worried I’ve been?” You pressed your hand against your shoulder, “Three weeks you’re gone, and then I’m told you’ve been captured, and I-“ you frowned and tried to find your words as you looked away from him, “Damn you.”
“Damn me? For what? Behind held captive? It wasn’t exactly my choice you know.”
“Damn you for making me fall in love with you!”
Your words shocked both of you.
Simon’s face was unreadable as he stood in front of you, his hand dropping from his side as he looked you in the eyes. Your eyes dropped from his and looked down at the ground, of all the things you meant to say, that was the last.
“I didn’t mean that.” You whispered.
“You didn’t mean it?”
You looked back up at him, his eyes were still on you, “No, I did-I do! I just-I didn’t mean to say it.” You stumbled over your words as he stepped closer to you, “Look, I know this wasn’t supposed to go that far but I-“
Simon cut you off by pulling you into his arms and holding you tight—all while being careful of your injured shoulder, “I know. Me too.” He said quietly, the exact words never falling from his lips but he still said it in his own way.
~
Exfil had been called in the get the five of you out, Morozov was in custody and Simon was alive with no life-threatening injuries. Soap and Gaz held back their smirks when they looked at the two of you on the flight back, the stoic glare from Simon quickly cutting them off.
The weapons market had been shut down with Morozov in custody, though Makarov was still in the wind. The mole had been found and arrested, and for once everything turned out okay.
Simon had been stuck in the hospital for the last few days, after returning back home he had been taken in to get a full workup. Two bruised ribs, a concussion, and twenty stitches later he was finally being released.
The entire time he had been stuck in the hospital you were right there with him, both of you sitting through the severely awkward conversation with Price about how long the two of you had been together.
Your own arm had been patched up and was now in a sling, the dull ache in your chest from where you had been shot still lingered but you didn’t care.
Simon was back and the two of you were finally home again—you hadn't missed the faint smile on his face when you referred to his apartment as home.
“I can dress myself you know.” Simon grumbled as you helped him pull his arm through the sleeve of his t-shirt, the dark bruises on his ribs catching your eye as you pulled the soft fabric down with your good arm.
The arm not in a sling tugged on the bottom to pull it down over his stomach, “I know that, I just don’t care.” You smirked and looked up at him.
His hand was wrapped around your wrist as you grabbed his mask from the end of the bed, “How’s your head doing?” You handed the mask to him.
“It’s alright.”
You raised a brow.
“It’s not that bad, better than it has been the last few days.” He assured you as he rubbed your arm, “Promise.”
You stared up at him and chewed on the inside of your cheek, “Please never do that again.”
His hand found its way up to your cheek, “You know I can't promise that.” His eyes softened as he looked down at you.
“Then lie to me.” You leaned into his hand and closed your eyes, “Tell me the truth later, just tell me you won't scare me like that again.” You were all but pleading with him.
“I love you.” He leaned forward and captured your lips with his own, both his words and the kiss catching you off guard and causing your breath to get caught in your throat.
Your free arm found its way to the back of his head and grabbed onto his slightly grown-out hair as you kissed him back, one of his hands gripping your waist tight as the back of your legs hit the edge of the mattress behind you.
Simon pulled back, his lips inches from hours as he held you close, “I love you so much and I cannot lie to you.” His breath hit your lips as he spoke.
The sofa was huge, but it seemed minuscule in comparison to the two of you. He pulled you close to his side, his arm reaching around to embrace you. His warm breath tickled your neck as you settled into his embrace.
He had no interest in the romcom playing on the screen. All he desired was to hold you tightly. Simon let out a sigh, rolling his eyes at the actors engaging in their cheesy conversation.
As you shifted your head, he loosened his grip, afraid of accidentally suffocating you. Sometimes, he forgets that he is at home and not on the battlefield.
With sleepy eyes, you softly spoke, your fingers gently brushing over his stubble.
"Simon?"
He shivered slightly, a shadow of a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He nodded in response.
"Yes love?"
You playfully poked his cheek, speaking slowly.
"You're so pretty... More than the actor in the movie."
He remained still for a moment, looking at you in disbelief.
His scars? His bruises? His troubled past? His bloodied hands?
Were these things pretty to you?
He sighed, shaking his head as he gently brushed your hair.
"No, sweetheart, I am no movie star."
You insisted, planting a kiss on his cheek before drifting back into a deep slumber.
"You are my star."
He gazed at your peaceful sleeping form, grateful that you wouldn't notice the solitary tear that escaped him. It had been so long since anyone had called him pretty, or even acknowledged him. Except you.
He looked at you and knew exactly why he hadn't hesitated when he said, "I do."
Hello! :)) if it is no trouble, can I ask for a lil drable of Simon and his gf? I was thinking of them having this little competition where Y/n keeps trying to find strong lipstick that will not fade and Simon keeps trying to fade that lipstick with his kisses :)) thank you if you write this one! :))
lipstick kisses
a/n: sorry for being so inactive - i'm super sick rn :( but thank u so much for this request as it motivated me to write something new!! i hope u enjoy ♡ (180 words)
pairing: simon ghost riley x reader
tags/warnings: none, cute n fluffy
“simon, stoppp~” you giggled, playfully pushing your boyfriend away by pressing your palm on his chest, “you keep smudging it.”
it must have been the 5th time you’d touched up your lips with your new shade of lipstick because simon wouldn’t stop kissing you. you thought you’d finally managed to find one that would hold up against his kiss attacks - the shiny “long lasting wear” printed along the side of the tube glinting at you as you applied more - but alas, it was not simon-proof.
you looked up into the mirror of your vanity, eyes shifting focus from your lips to simon’s now bright red ones in the reflection.
“but lovie, it makes your lips s’pretty.” he said, his vision focused on you, oblivious to his new look.
“it makes yours look pretty too, si” you laughed, looking back down at your lips.
when he realised, his cheeks turned the same colour as the lipstick, rushing to the bathroom sink to desperately try to wipe the colour away from his face before it stained.
it may not be simon-proof, but it is simon-repellent.
˚✧. thank you for reading!
˚✧. please reblog to support me <3
˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis
He saw the way you cringed at the sunlight coming through the curtains. Then, he witnesses you wince as you sit up in bed, eyes squinting as you hiss in pain.
“Is everything alright?” His voice was low, not wanting to startle you so early in the morning.
With a hum, you respond back to him with a half lie. “Yeah. Stiff shoulders.”
“You have been working a lot recently.” He states, sitting down beside you on the bed. His optics scan your body; shoulders, back, hands, knees, were all flared in red. He grows more concerned the more he scans you.
“I know…”
Ramattra places a hand atop of your own. “Perhaps taking a day off will not hurt. You are in pain.” He pauses, noticing the drowsy look in your eyes. “I will call them.”
Before you even had chance to protest, his hands gently push you back down onto the bed, unplugs your phone and leaves the room.
When he returns several minutes later, placing your phone on the bedside table and sitting beside you once more, one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb rubbing a gentle motion upon the skin.
“You have a week to recover.”
“Ramattra!” The exclamation pauses the omnics movements. “How-“
“Your wellbeing is important. You need rest.” He deflects your question.
Ramattra watches your body relax into the bed, eyes closing as sleep pulls you under once again. He speaks in a quiet manner, not wanting to disturb you.
This is a fic/art collab between me and @t3chborb!! Go check out the awesome matching art here: [link!]
=
"I understand the practice in humans, but the anniversary of the Awakening is the anniversary of my existence. That would be a better comparison to a birthday. " He grumbles, but doesn't move away from you. Which would be hard anyway, with your limbs currently wrapped around his wide chest, legs laid upon his in your shared bed.
"But that wouldn't have happened if you weren't manufactured today." You snuggle in closer, rub your cheek against the silky texture of his scarf.
The pistons of his neck slide downwards, lowering his chin to look at you more closely. He quiets, before murmuring, "Few humans would celebrate that."
"Well I don’t particularly care what other humans think.," You declare immediately, tightening your grip around him. "I want to celebrate because I'm glad you were made. I'm glad you're here."
Ramattra's ventilation huffs warm air from the recesses of his body, but he gently returns the gesture, pressing lightly on your back. "Fine. Then how would an Omnic celebrate their birthday?"
You laugh softly, "Well I don't know, it's your birthday… but I have a few ideas." Only then do you untangle your body from his. Ramattra’s fingertips linger on your skin as you roll towards the edge of the bed. Before you can second guess it, you fish out a black satiny box, wrapped with a purple ribbon. You’d tucked the gift there earlier, in hopes of surprising him.
But now, you do pause, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t know what to get you, since you can’t eat and don’t need much and don’t really wear clothes-- and I don’t know they’ll even fit right-”
Ramattra sits up. “You got me a gift?”
“It’s your birthday. Of course I did.” Finally, you offer him the box. It’s frivolous, but you still hope he likes it.
He stares at the box for a moment, holding it in his hands for several cycles of his processors. A nervousness builds in you, though his delay is purely shock. It’s been… He’s not sure. Years. Was it the last Awakening Day before London? Ages since anyone had given him anything.
He pulls on the ribbon and lifts the lid. Inside, carefully wrapped in thin layers of packing foam, are dozens of little ornaments. You can only watch as he pulls one from the protective packaging, examining it. “I know some of yours looked a little worn down. Scratched ‘cause they knock together so much.” He pulls the foam off and reveals exactly what you got him: new end caps for his cables, coated with purple enamel, the same shade he’d used on himself.
Ramattra holds the end cap, turning it before his optics. “Thank you.” He’s so quiet it almost masks the strain in his vocoder. Replacing such a cosmetic part would be so low on his priority list, he never would’ve changed them if you hadn’t gotten them. In fact… he hasn’t changed them at all since he’s installed them, didn’t update them when he changed his paint. “This is… thoughtful.”
The praise makes you grin, relief washing over you. And only builds as he takes one ribbon cable loc and effortlessly pulls the old, dinged and dulled cap off and attaches the new, shiny purple one. The color itself is minimal, but the cord being pulled forward, out of its normal hiding place of pushed back and tucked into his cowl makes your cheeks heat anyway. He looks good, as though he’s dressed up with tiny accessories.
“Do you… want to put on all of them?” You ask, scooting closer and not bothering to mask your excitement. “I got enough- and some spares.”
Ramattra nods and shows you how to swap them. A small double clasp on the underside is all that holds them in place, making it quick work to remove the caps- and to carefully put on the new ones, repeating the same process in reverse. You dutifully begin working at the back of Ramattra’s head, those hardest for him to see and find. In doing so, you draw each strand out from his cowl, leaving them dangling over his back. Each time to finish one, the new enamel clicks against his ribs, the sound glassier than the metallic rings it had before. Piece by piece the scratched up silver is replaced but glossy purple. It’s like you’re dying his hair- the thought makes you smile at the absurdity.
You slide around in front of him again- and it’s so rare to really see his cable hair free. Matte black rubber frames the white of his faceplate, but the purple caps decorates the ends of each ribbon, shiny and new. You can’t help yourself- you surge forward and kiss him, right on the seam between titanium white and his purple jaw. He hums at the display of affection, one hand coming up to rest at your waist.
The touch is all the encouragement you need to continue on. A soft press to his shoulder- not nearly enough to topple him- guides him down, back onto the pillows. His hair splays out around him, no longer held captive in his scarf. Sleek dark lines spill onto your sheets, accented by silver bars and now, purple tips. He waits there as you settle over his narrow waist, observing his new appearance. “You look nice...”
The praise- no matter how meager- makes him shy, turning away- stopping only when you touch his faceplate. His voicebox rumbles a quiet, questioning note. You reply only with a stroke of your thumb along the long, white ridge below the optical slit. Not quite a cheekbone, but you follow it back towards his audials- and Ramattra’s hands raise to meet yours, catching it by the wrist. With more delicacy than a war machine should have, he presses your palm against the white plate, nuzzling into the touch.
Through the armor, you can feel his machinery buzzing, vibrating softly. He’s warm already, though you feel it more through the hidden vents on his chest, even his palms are no longer chilly, heating with an array of emotions you can guess easily enough. “Do you like them?”
“Of course,” His voice rumbles through your hand, the speaker only inches from your fingers. “Thank you.”
You smile broadly, excited to have done well. You lean down, press your forehead to his array and let his warmth wash over you. Still, his body vibrates soothingly- as though purring. You laugh softly at the thought, and Ramattra hums a questioning noise.
Finally you lean back, staring down at him. With his hair spread out across your pillows and the rising heat of his body, warming where the insides of your thighs touch his waist, a new thought occurs to you.
“You know…” You start, leaning forward again to press another kiss where his mouth would be. “There’s something else humans do for their birthdays…”
His throat hums as his voicebox clicks on, the vibration making your lips tingle. “If you’re expecting me to eat cake, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”
His quip makes you laugh- but you don’t bother explaining. You lean past the hard line of his jaw and press a kiss to the pistons of his neck. His ventilation kicks, almost like an inhale. You chase the noise, licking up one actuator. This earns you a shudder, a hand that lands on your hip and squeezes knowingly.
Immediately, Ramattra begins to sit up, to turn- but when you press on his shoulder again and he stops.
“You never let me take care of you, Rama’,” You half whine, laying more kisses along the sensitive surfaces of his neck, nudging ribbon cable locs out of the way as you go.
“But you have already given me so much…” His voice trails off, head shifting off the to the side, as though looking away from you- and in the same motion exposing more of his neck.
“And you always take care of me. Always.” You kiss back up, nuzzling into the hollow behind his jaw. “Can’t I do the same for you?” You slide to stay in front of his optics, to make him look at you despite whatever shame he’s feeling. Then, letting a mischievous thrill take over, you grab the hard bulge of his lower abdomen- right on top of his cock. “Don’t you want to relax?”
“Yes,” Ramattra groans, then adds, as though his fans’ volume hasn’t already betrayed his desire: “Fine, do what you will.” He lays back down on your pillows, politely turning his head away so you can continue unobstructed.
You almost want to snicker, to tease him about his usual insistence that he doesn’t have those needs... but it is his birthday. And besides, you should savor the rare occasion he lets you take control. So instead, you kiss that sharp corner of his jaw and down, down over dark plating and between pistons to the inner edge of his scarf.
Before you can even shove the silky, tan fabric out of the way, Ramattra grabs the edge and pulls it off entirely, revealing the oft hidden clean, dark lines of his shoulders.
Still, he looks away when he’s done, quietly humming with nervousness- he wants your touch, your skin, to praise and thank you for your care of him- but you’d requested this. So he forces himself back down onto the pillows and regulates his routines, letting you hold the reins.
Without saying a word, you can feel the tension in him. But he still acquiesced to your whim, so you reward him accordingly, tracing over the long edge of black armor, sliping just underneath at the joint of his pauldrons. You draw your way back- and kiss the long pistons mimicking collar bones that usually hide beneath his cowl. Ramattra’s hand at your side twitches again, but he makes no comment. The warmth that continues to pour in from every point of contact is praise enough.
You slide downward, his hand lingering on you as it slides up your back, over your shoulder before he lets it fall beside him on the bed. Here, you trace along the silver bands of armor around his torso. They’re not particularly sensitive, only meant to disperse blunt damage, but when you dip your fingers down to touch the black plating beneath he simulates a sigh. So rarely is that part of him touched at all, the sensors spiking in new, unexpected data.
And here, you trace the flat, purple plate right at the center of his chest. Your fingernail fits between the plate’s edges, scraping delicately, teasing right at the cusp of being inside. Ramattra’s hands tighten in the sheets, another burst of air pushed from his quickly warming body.
Down- until his wide chest narrows into his thin waist, and here you trace along the thick, bundled wiring that sits just above his hips. The rubber disappears into a silvery socket- and that gets your attention. With one hand, you lay your fingers along the hard metal- so delicately running your fingers along the point where the cables connect. He can feel your touch on the metal, but on the bundled wiring, it’s dulled, barely perceptible- until you squeeze down on it with the other hand.
Ramattra shudders, the connected leg twitching beneath you as erroneous data bursts into every system, flooding his HUD with reports of overheats, of disconnects, of faults. It stops as soon as you let go- and Ramattra sighs.
You move inward, kissing the smooth gray paneling that finishes out his torso. It’s not nearly as sensitive as what hides behind, but when you dip your tongue into one of the divots that hide the latches, Ramattra shudders, twists his hands into the sheets so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t pop any seams.
There was a time he’d have insisted he didn’t need your touch- at least in a sexual manner- that his cock was made only for you, for your pleasure- but now, all you have to do is lean back. His need overtakes any shame; without even being asked, Ramattra clicks open those hidden latches and pulls the protective plating away.
Ramattra shudders, almost relaxes with his cock finally standing free. It’s as gorgeous as ever, a semitransparent purple length, more uniformly straight than a human’s- and with its not-quite-clarity, you can see the mesh of sensors inside, the row of indicator lights that run up the underside- here, all lit up red to match his default. As tempting as it is to descend immediately on the translucent silicone, you resist. This is supposed to be a gift after all. Instead, you ease your thumbs over the revealed inner plating, stroking the rarely-touched dark metal. A rumble purrs from Ramattra’s chest. Despite his previous stillness, his hips jump softly when you touch the beveled edge where his cock meets his body. You tease him there a moment, running your fingertips around the angled edges, admiring the smoothness of their machining, how his self-made appendage fits so neatly into a frame not designed for such a thing.
“Are you-” He starts. You don’t let him finish, already running your knuckles up the underside of the smooth silicone. Dry as it is, your skin drags and Ramattra’s speech fizzles out with a shiver. The sound is so tempting, you can’t help but chase it. Surging forward, you lick exactly where your fingers had just been, from the smooth, hard plating up over his inlaid lights to the rounded tip. And this time he gasps- his fans ramping up, buzzing to life in his abdomen.
Ramattra says your name. The stress on his voice box is already so severe you can’t tell if he’s whining, frustrated, or embarrassed. Probably all three. You smile up at him, focus on the dark slits of his optics and smooth one hand up his body, gliding over wires and armor and the dark spaces between. His hand meets yours, guides your palms together, interlocks your fingers.
“Relax.” You coo, squeezing the hard planes of his hand. “I want to do this for you.”
He hesitates- body stiff as he considers the request. But eventually he makes a noise like a scoff, but drops his head back onto the pillows. A smile pulls your lips- who else had this power over him?
So you reward him for his patience, for letting you do this: in one motion you take the head of his cock in your mouth. Ramattra’s hand twitches against yours, his vocoder clicking on and off in a spit of static. All at once he’s hit with the raw sensory information: your warm, soft mouth closing around him, your tongue pressing up against him- and the simulated errors that follow. White noise creeps in his cables, making the insides of his plates itch, the world fuzzing all around him.
You push further, easing yourself down until the tip brushes the back of your throat and holding him there. Ramattra groans, a deep noise that rumbles from his throat while his ventilation continues to purr in his chest. You pause there, suckling at his warming silicone, rolling your tongue on the thicker sections around the indicator lights. Each motion earns you another noise, another twitch of his hands.
You bob there easily, basking in his voice, the mechanical sounds within, letting him build up slowly. Which makes it even better when you slide your free hand to the base of his cock, enclosing the length not in your mouth and stroking.
“H-aahhh!” His head snaps back- and his hips jump. His cock hits the back of your throat, the silicone bending softly, nearly slips further- and you gag. Your whole mouth convulses around his cock, instinctively trying to push him back out- which only makes Ramattra moan louder. His hand that was twisted in the sheets lands on your shoulder as you pull yourself off him. You gasp for air-
And when Ramattra looks down, you’re a vision. Your eyes watering softly, cheeks red, lips swollen with long strings of saliva connecting them to the purple silicone. A thrill of being able to ruin you without even doing anything rushes through his systems- before being pushed down by the need to check in. “Are you alr- aaah…”
You stroke his cock, a tight grip squeezing the words from him in a burst of static. It’s easier, smoother with your spit slicking your palm. A twist of your wrist makes him all but collapse again. You laugh, half-hoarse from the strain on your throat. “How’s that?”
“Good.” He whines- and must immediately realize how wrecked he sounds, because his voice box clicks with a refresh and tries again: “It’s good.” Still breathy, it’s not much of an improvement.
You grin down at him, taking the moment to catch your breath- and to make a show of slowly lowering your head down. A playful lick at the tip makes his neck twitch- which turns to his head rolling to the side as you take him back into your mouth.
Now with your hand working in tandem, his voice fizzles through a sigh. You keep your pace even, bobbing your head, swiping your tongue and squeezing with your hand, alternating each in measured movements. The rhythm lets him relax, embrace each wave of simulated errors, drifting on the current of misfiring connections and the heat of your body. Which presents you with the view of his body nearly melting into your mattress, his chest rising and falling in mock respiration, head twisted away, the long cords of his hair curling all around him, the purple caps like jewels decorating each end.
Heat builds between your legs, but you push your own need down, focusing on keeping up the pattern that’s made him so pliant before you. Only when his huffs begin to rise in pitch do you move on- by lowering your mouth again until his tip once again nudges the back of your throat. And this time you breathe through your nose, align your throat, and take him deeper.
You brace your arm against his hips- but this time his legs lock up, leaving only his hands grasping at you, one squeezing your hand and the other twisting into your shirt. Air hisses from his vents as his internal heat rises. Tears pool at the corners of your eyes and you fight to keep your throat relaxed, easing him deeper inch by inch- swallowing reflexively around his thick head.
Your lips meet your hand- nearly to that dark paneling you’d been stroking earlier. And here you hold him, moving so gently to keep the tenuous reins on your control. He seems to also know- because he hardly moves at all save for the uncommanded twitching of his fingers.
He’s fighting for his own composure, steam vents popping in desperation to keep his overheating at bay. Each cycle he’s battling subroutines that alert him to simulated errors, make him clear caches and reassign tasks, anything to keep himself from thrusting up into your soft, wet mouth again. No matter how amazing it felt, nor how stunning you were afterwards. He wants and he resists.
And you just can’t have that. You raise up enough to breathe through your nose again, taking in fresh oxygen as you work your tongue against the sensory mesh in the silicone. Still, Ramattra sighs, lowers his guard- the heat of you is torturous. When you’ve recovered enough, you lower your head again. Once again Ramattra’s fans kick like an inhale, pulling in cooling air just to keep himself calm-
You squeeze his hand, then slide yours free. His head lifts, curious as to what you’re doing-
And as your lips finally meet the beveled edge at the base of his cock, you lay each palm on the thick, rubber-coated bundles of wiring on each side of his hips. A fraction of a second- more than enough time for Ramattra to realize what’s happening just before you grab. The bundles barely move, but in his HUD it’s like stars, like a solar flare distorting every signal inside him- the real static drowns out the fake, matches your mouth and its overwhelming heat. He loses his grasp on his movements; his hips snap up, driven only by base desire. Even fully buried in your throat his basest routines only cry for more, more-
Another pulse of white noise nearly wipes his systems as you push against the bundles, trying to get his legs down on the bed again- and you look up at him. Through snow-fuzzed feed he meets your eyes, watered and red, your lips stretched taut around his cock- and in an instant he’s gone.
You choke, sputter as you finally pull off entirely- just in time to watch Ramattra’s array begin to flicker. His hands twitch, each finger moving in different directions, one shoulder raising up, hips half rolling away from you, his neck sharply turning to the side. The motions stop- and the red lights of his array fade out, his body frozen in the same awkward position. Slowly the noise from within him dies down as his fans idle and stop.
Your chest burns as you catch your breath, wiping saliva from your chin. It’s so rare for him to be so incredibly vulnerable, entirely offlined. It sparks pride in you first, then affection as you again wonder who else has ever seen him like this.
You touch his hips- careful to only take them by the handle-like bars- and adjust them so they are once again flush with the mattress. His cock bobs as you do, the soft silicone swaying- still obscenely shiny with your spit. You fish out the towel from the same hiding spot you’d left his gift and begin to wipe down the majority of the mess.
Then, you move upwards. It’s harder to realign his shoulders with the heft of his upper body, but you at least smooth out his hands. Like this, he looks more asleep than knocked unconscious, more peaceful than you ever would have imagined him. Laying serenely in his bed, hair splayed out around him in a purple-ringed halo. You kiss the long arm of his collar bone piston, linger there in quiet praise, then stretch yourself out alongside him.
It’s another minute before the humming of his internals kicks on again. You watch this, too, with rapt fascination- the so very slow process of him waking up. His array snaps on with an orange processing light and lingers there for another two minutes before flashing green once, then dropping into his familiar red.
His head shifts on the pillows, resettling on them in a more intentional way. He stops there- and stares at you. You can’t see his optics, but laid next to him as you are, there’s nowhere else for him to be looking.
“You alright?” You prompt after the silence lingers a touch too long- and the worry that your fumbling with his actual wiring has harmed him somehow has begun to creep in.
But Ramattra nods once- a simple, minimalist motion- before turning his body towards you entirely and enveloping you in his long arms. He holds you, brings you closer until every inch of your is touching him, from your chest to your feet.
“Thank you,” His voice has fully reset, clear and almost steady. If you didn’t know him so well you might’ve heard the softness laid over the words. Less sincerity more… awe. “That was…” He trails off.
“I’m glad.“ You smile broadly, let the love that bubbles up in your chest spill over. Your arms don’t cover nearly as much of him, but you slip them around each side of his tiny waist and squeeze as hard as you can against the metal plates of his back.
“I will have to… repay you.” He says after a minute, then adds on “Eventually.”
“You don’t have to.” You smile and snuggle deeper into his arms. “Thank you for letting me do something for you for once.”
Ramattra simulates a snort. “Yes, well. Perhaps you’ve swayed me on the tradition of birthdays.”
He never celebrated his birthday, never saw the need to. It was just another day to him. Birthdays' were just demeaning for him, it held no value to him.
You came to him a month after his last birthday, so he never had any reason to give you his date of birth, though somehow, you had it figured out.
You never told him this, afterall, it was supposed to be a surprise. You had it planned for months. It had to be perfect for him.
----
When the day finally came, you turned over to face him in bed, hand tracing over the purple metal that framed his face.
"Morning."
He hums in response, optics flicking up to view you as his systems warm up. He was charging overnight, something he did twice a month. His hand comes up to caress your cheek, thumb gently rubbing across your skin.
"How did you sleep?" He asks, tone soft and still staticky.
You mumble, nodding your head, "I slept rather well." You snuggle up against him, resting your hand on his chest as you trail your fingers up and down the silver metal that braced his chest.
Ramattra chuckles, the softness of your fingers against his chest brings him comfort though slightly ticklish.
"Are you hungry?" He asks, tilting his head down to see you while his free hand fumbles with the wires connected to his neck. They unclick and drop to the floor as he moves his hand to smooth over your shoulder.
You shake your head. "Not yet. But..." you trail off, looking up and planting a kiss to his faceplate. "Come downstairs anyway?"
"I am following you?" Ramattra questions, a slight amusement within his voice.
"Yes." Getting out of bed, you walk around before grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. "Come on."
The omnic notices the urgency in your tone and he can't help but let out a light hearted chuckle as he lets you drag him towards the living room.
When the door opens, he's met with violet balloons being held in place with yellow ribbon and tied to the end was a small black gift box.
"[y/n]? What is this?" He stops walking, his grip on your hand tightens.
"I know you don't celebrate your birthday, so I figured something small would suffice." Your voice was soft as you turn to look up at him, bringing your hands up to cup his face.
"You did not have to-"
"I wanted to." You smile, pulling his head down so your forehead touches his. "I waited until you were charging."
"I know. I heard you move." He admits, optics meeting with your eyes. "I hear everything you say."
"Don't say that." You laugh, knowing you've said some pretty embarrassing things while he was charging.
Ramattra lets out a small sigh, hands holding onto your sides as he kisses your forehead, the small buzzing tickling you.
"Enough about me, go, open your gift." Planting one last kiss, you pull away and step to the side, ushering Ramattra towards the table.
He approaches, sitting down on the sofa as he reaches for the box.
Your heart races, all the time and effort you had put into this gift, you just hoped that he would like it. With the help of a friend, you had it made specially for him.
Ramattra traces the ribbon before untying it, letting the balloons bounce on the ceiling as he lifts the lid. His systems heat up, pads of his fingers touching the pendant that lay on the small cushion.
You sit down beside him, pulling his face away from the necklace and to you, one hand on his thigh, thumb stroking the metal.
The omnic looks back down at the pendant, purple surrounded in silver, it matched him just perfectly. It wouldn't be something he would pick out for himself, but knowing it came from you made him feel warm.
Taking it from him, you walk around behind him, setting the pendant around his neck, clasping it shut from under his cabled hair.
His systems hum softly, fans whirring gently as you press yourself into his back, arms wrapping over his chest. He warms up instantly, he loves the way you feel, hands and body. He feels you press your lips against his cheek as his hands come up to hold your arms.
At the beginning of your relationship with Dottore, there had been numerous times when he had tried to leave you, or rather, attempt to force you to leave him in the Akademiya. Ignoring you, snapping at you... most notably literally kicking you out of the dorm (to waking up and nearly stepping on you, as you had decided to knock out right at the door.) Merely because he still had difficulty believing he was loved by you, despite having known you for years. It took much time but, eventually, your feelings finally clicked in that genius head of his.
However, uncharacteristically enough, there was one time you debated on whether you should leave Zandik. Only one time. And he had found out. If only you had been more careful.
It happened during the later stage of your illness when your ability to do many basic tasks had been stripped from you, leaving you reliant on Zandik for many things. You felt very guilty, for making him so do much work for both himself and you, but there wasn't much you could do about it, being the way you were now. Did you tell your lover about this? No, of course not.
But today, today would just be another regular day of what you had accepted to be your new life. However, you had noticed in the morning he seemed rather irritated, but you had no chance to ask him about it since he had to leave for class. You wondered what that was all about. (You, somewhere in the depths of your mind thought. You were continuously being a burden on the knowledge-driven scholar, no wonder he'd be irritated.)
When he returned to the dorm, you could tell that the foul mood still remained. Though, you could not understand what had caused it. He was perfectly fine last night, something must have happened after you fell asleep... As you watched him, the words "welcome home" could not seem to come out as they usually did, especially when he had not even acknowledged you yet, only emptying his bag with all of his books and other tools. You swallowed nervously, wondering how you were going to go about this when he spoke.
"Where?"
"Huh?"
"Where do you plan to go?" You were understandably confused by this seemingly random question.
"Um... nowhere?" A nervous smile made its way to your face, as Zandik only gave you a blank look, before carefully unfolding a piece of paper, and reading it over once more, no emotion on his face. Which, was already quite alarming for you, because Zandik was the kind of person who always had a hint of annoyance written on his face. He then turned the paper to face you and you squinted, reading the contents.
Oh. You instantly recognized what it was. It was a form that one had to fill out if they wanted to move out of the Akademiya's dorms.
When you said you felt guilty for everything, you meant it. Meant it to the point you worried if you were still good enough for him, if you had become annoying, a bumbling nuisance that had become more of a chore rather than a partner. It worried you, and you couldn't help but think about it. What if you were right? What if he did feel all of those things? Then maybe, maybe you should relieve him of this burden. You. Then, he could continue to pursue his goals, without the added hindrance of taking care of you.
It wasn't something you were set on yet, more like something you mulled over in your head. But you had filled out the potential moving out form tentatively just in case you decided to go through with it. Ah, you probably had shoved it in your bag along with your many missing assignments, and Zandik must have found it after trying to check your homework... But now, your lover was staring holes into you, expecting an answer.
"Well, I- I didn't mean it. It was... just in case," you were just spewing words at this point because you really had no defense. After all, how do you explain to your roommate of many years that you were going to move out and disappear without telling him?
"Just in case," the scholar repeats. "Just in case..." And then Zandik laughs. At what? You're not sure, because you've only seen him laugh at other people's foolishness, or in scorn and bitterness. It's a bit unsettling, seeing him act this way, but you have no time to think about it before the paper is torn right in half twice and then abandoned in the trash bin.
"No." Well... alright then.
"Za-"
"No, no no no. How utterly absurd. Ridiculous. You are not going anywhere." The way he says it simultaneously sounds like an order to you yet also an attempt to reassure himself of your impossible departure. You wondered if he interpreted your reason for leaving as something more... drastic.
"Hey-" You stand up, hoping an embrace would calm his nerves, but he begins to pace around. Now, this wouldn't be unusual, he tends to do this while he's ranting or deeply thinking about his research but obviously, it's different this time.
"Leave? No," Zandik scoffs to himself, "the possibility is nigh on impossible. There is no need to plan for such lengths, I shall make sure it doesn't come to that." When he finished mumbling to himself, you tried to interject before his gaze snapped back to you.
"And you. You, how dare you go behind my back and do such a thing? Do you think me incompetent? Do you think me a senseless fool that I would allow you to do this?"
"..."
"I find this quite tasteless, especially after how much you parroted about 'always being by my side' or 'never leaving'. Or have you finally shown your true colors? Leaving me after-" Zandik cut himself off because the words he was going to say next shouldn't be said out loud. Leaving him after he's already obsessed with you, when he's already in love with you and would go mad without your presence. But then all he could feel was your arms around him and your face buried in his chest.
"Zandik please, I'm sorry," your voice was but a whisper. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything like that." Zandik's hands itched to hold you back, but he restrained himself, needing to hear your reasoning.
"I don't want to leave you, I really don't. I love you! So... that's why I filled that form out. Because I... am scared of burdening you too much. I know how you are. I know you want someone who is useful, w-who can be of assistance in all kinds of ways, not someone who is dead weight. So I... I don't want you to force yourself to- ow!" Your increasingly pitiful dialogue was interrupted by a flick to your forehead and the clicking of a tongue.
"Fool..." he moved his hand to rest on the top of your head. "You can be quite intelligent, but the reasons for your stupidity can be headache-inducing sometimes. Now that you've said all of that, has it clicked how idiotic it sounds?" Though your partner's words sounded harsh, his tone was noticeably softer. You could only cast your gaze downward as he sighed.
"I too wonder why you do not take your own advice. Were you not the one who said to... 'talk things out', before jumping to conclusions? So why have I not heard of this?" (The phrase feels out of place and rather disgusting on the man who normally refuses to hold a conversation on anything other than research, but he forces it out for your sake. Unfortunately, he can also hear your sing-song voice in his head as he replays the words.)
"Because... it's dumb, like you said. I shouldn't waste your time anymore..."
"I usually do not entertain dumb inquiries but... you are an exception. My assistant's questions must always be clarified." And as his lover, your troubles must always be assuaged, but that part was left unsaid, although you knew what he meant. "Yes, your usefulness was a great help, but I couldn't care less about that right now. I care about you, and if taking on extra responsibilities happens to fall under that feeling, then so be it. I don't care," Zandik said bluntly. Was it elegant? No. Was it truthful? Yes. It made your cheeks warm a bit.
"Well... thank you for the honor," you couldn't help but crack a tiny smile as Zandik only mumbled something incoherent before pushing you back to bed. Ah, you were feeling a little drained from all of that.
"Now that all that is sorted out, and that hopefully every inch of that nonsense has left you, I suggest you go to sleep quickly, unless you want to be kept awake by the sounds of my latest experiment." You only giggled at your boyfriend. He's unkind... in a kind way if that made sense. But before you could be whisked away to the land of dreams, Zandik spoke once more.
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