#cypher x reader

As if this man would ever get caught, but if he did;

It’s a moment of intimacy, having shoved you into his room, desperate for some sort of attention after you’ve been gone for weeks on a mission.

Hands reaching for anything he can get, sneaking under your clothing to feel your flesh.

His mask had been pulled up just enough to free his mouth, letting him gravitate towards your neck.

Sucking marks along it, while your hands felt over his shoulders and masked head. Ready to pull the rest off only for the door to open.

Pushing each other away as Cypher pulled his mask down, you both tried to look somewhat presentable, which was much easier for Cypher.

In the doorway stood Sage, who had a small folder in her hands. Without a word from anyone she placed it on a nearby surface before leaving, making sure the door shut behind her.

“Do you think she’ll say anything to anyone?” “She wouldn’t, but she might call you to the infirmary.” “Because of you!”

I’m not really sure how this would work… But anyways!

His hands searched past the fabric to find skin, calming slightly when he felt your warmth.

All while your own cupped his face, feeling and watching wisps flare out, some lingering on your fingers.

Leaning forwards to leave soft kisses across his face, his stripes lighting up.

But in your soft moment you somehow missed the door opening, luckily the person who entered was kind enough to not say anything.

They left what they needed to before shutting the door behind them.

Only when you two pulled away and caught sight of the object did you become embarrassed.

You hope they don’t say anything.

This man could not care less if you two are seen, at least that’s what he looks like. Inside he’s kinda jealous that someone else got to see you like this.

Having pulled you away from the others for whatever reason it was this time, he wasted no time in trapping you in a heated kiss.

His hands held your cheeks while yours held his, quickly becoming breathless.

As the door opens Yoru pulls away, giving you a chance to finally catch your breath.

There stood Jett, almost dropping her device before dashing away, loudly calling for phoenix.

He’s already shy enough about making out, but that doubles if there's any chance of being caught.

Another one who has to have his hands all over you, doesn’t matter how much breath you’ve stolen from him, he will start whining if you don’t let him touch you.

The reason you two get caught is likely this ^.

As he reached out for you, you caught his hands. He started whining and complaining, wanting to feel more of you.

Both of you jumped when the door opened, not pulling away fully due to your hands still intertwined.

Finding Reyna standing in the doorway, her questioning look turned in a glare after catching you two in the act, before turning into a smug smile.

“Be careful you two.”

chamber

— this silly man misses you the minute you walk out the door.

— you spend a lot of time with him, whether or not he is busy with side projects so your presence has become a normal occurrence to him.

— he gets all pouty when he realizes you aren't there.

— most likely to beg brimstone to put him on the mission with you, and will 100% make charts and graphs of why his presence will boost your performance.

— but alas, he was stuck at base while you were out on your mission.

— he will worry about you every minute you are gone, and demands that he gets to be able to video chat with you at least once a week.

— the whole protocol is slightly concerned for him while you are gone, because he acts like an emo teen the whole time.

— the only reason the other agents will know that you'll be returning shortly is because he suddenly acts like a ray of sunshine the week you're scheduled to return.

— "dude, whats got you in such a good mood?" (neon)

— "well, if ton amour was returning after so much time apart, you'd be ecstatic too!" (what a drama queen)

— if you suddenly go radio silent out of nowhere and/or miss your scheduled date of arrival, he's instantly in panic mode and ready to go to your rescue (brim has to hold him back. literally.)

— when you return, he's literally glowing, huge smile on his face as he holds his arms out for a hug.

— "mon ange! how i have missed you so!"

— makes sure that sage will be free to check you for any injuries and make sure you are patched up by only the best!

— will pamper you to the fullest extent. your favorite pajamas are fresh out of the dryer, fresh new sheets and blankets on the bed, your favorite bath salts and other toiletries are restocked, and he even has your favorite meal ready for you to eat.

— vince's just happy that his love is okay and back at base with him. expect him to be clingy for like a month afterwards.

breach

— erik is the least worried on the list.

— its not that he doesn't care, quite the opposite, but the fact that he trusts you and your abilities.

— doesn't mean he won't miss you while you're gone, though.

— he'll help you train for a few days beforehand, ensuring that you'll be all prepped and ready for your mission. he will also make sure that your bags are packed and you have everything you need.

— he did ask brimstone to put him on the mission with you, but he completely understands when he gets turned down (he is hella bummed though.)

— trusts your prowess and your instincts, so if you feel good about the mission he will feel good about the mission!

— the other agents don't really notice a damper in breach's mood, noticing that he just goes about his day in a normal fashion. those who look closer, however, will notice the slight changes to his routine.

— like when he has nightly drink with brimstone and some of the others, he'll turn to say something funny to you but get disappointed when you aren't there. or when he's less quiet during gym hours, when he's normally cheering you on or cracking some corny jokes.

— he will video chat with you whenever you can, but he doesn't find it as authentic as face to face conversation.

— when he gets news about an eta of your return, he's extremely excited. so excited, in fact, that he accidentally concussed brimstone at the briefing table. brim was not pleased about it.

— when you return, his impulses work against him, and he ends up crushing you in a hug, and almost makes you asphyxiate in a searing kiss.

— "glad you're okay, babe! you better have kicked their asses!"

— he'll get skye to check you over, checking that there aren't any life threatening injuries and that overall, you're okay.

— if you feel up to it, he'll celebrate a successful mission with a couple of beers, finally being able to look to his side and see you there. he'll tell you about all the weird ass things that happened throughout the time you were gone.

— he does want stories about your mission. mostly the ones where you kicked ass and were the amazing partner that he loves. expect him to yell "hell yeah, babe!" when you tell him a particularly good story.

— he becomes more affectionate at night. when the two of you are settled down, the only light in the room coming from the moon and stars outside. he'll confess to you just how much he missed you, and how much he loves you.

— this man is just very in love with you.

cypher

— not pleased™ when he heard that you were going on a long mission, let alone by yourself.

— he tried to convince brimstone to call it off, and when that didn't work he tried convincing brimstone to allow him on the mission. both of his requests got denied, and he wasn't about to just blackmail his boss.

— poor amir...

— you tried to reassure him that you'd be fine, but he was having none of it.

— he ends up finding absolutely everything about your mission, regardless of his clearance level. where it is, what it is, how you'll get there, how long you will be, what its for, the entire works.

— and if there are cameras at your intended place of breach, he's going to get front row seats to make sure you're okay.

— he is a worry wart.

— manages to become even more of a recluse when you are gone. between fixing up his trips, checking his cameras, and checking up on you, he rarely ever leaves his bedroom at all.

— sage and/or omen end up being the ones to bring him food and drink so that amir doesn't end up dying before you come back. (omen later tells you the number of times that amir was found asleep at his desk. it was 24.)

— he expects everything to be on schedule, given that he knows everything about your mission, so when you are late to anything or go radio silent the alarm bells instantly start ringing.

— he won't come out to the landing pad to greet you, but instead he'll wait for you inside his room. he doesn't want to risk being teased by the younger agents for being so 'vulnerable.'

— besides, he's sure that you'd be way more happier to be greeted by him without his mask on.

— similar to chamber, he'll brew you some of his (expensive) tea, turn off his monitors, make sure your favorite pajamas are ready, and maybe even make you something to eat.

— "my rose! i am so glad you are alright."

— he's happy to see you when you return to the shared dorm but is even happier to see that you got away with minimal injuries.

— offers to run a bath for you, even joining you with your consent. he'll baby you, washing your hair and body and not letting you do a thing.

— when you two settle down for the night, limbs entangled under blankets, entranced with each other, he'll bring his hand up to your face and ghost his knuckles over your cheekbone, smiling as you lean into his touch.

— "i am glad you came out okay, my dear."

Even when he found himself falling in love, Ryo’s morals and beliefs never warped nor misguided. 

Odd, in everyone's eyes. Reasonable, in his.

The loner wolf got someone to like him and tame his wild heart by simple actions, little by little, until Yoru stopped being the radiant with powerful abilities, to introduce himself to you as Ryo; a normal japanese man who enjoys the smell of coffee and reminisce the old times with a heavy heart.

You were completely fooled by his web of lies to keep you away from the mess his life is, to keep you on your toes whenever he desired to share bits of his past and made you feel like the only person special in his world; which is true, despite the many wrongs he's done, you are truly what he could consider his special someone and his treasure.

You managed to have him wrapped around your finger in less than a month with sweet words and caring nature. Stubborn but mindful, hot-headed but grounded—you were the perfect mix complimenting him.

Yoru didn't even know he was capable of trusting something as important as his heart to a stranger of sorts, blindly following what his emotions dictate and what your sweet words enchant him to do.

He was in love, completely and utterly head over heels for you it was almost ridiculous.

Eating every word you’d have to say as if it were the law, watching your hands work around your station and do their magic while making his favorite beverage for the day, stealing glances his way every now and then—it was embarrassing how pliant you made him by just being there. 

There were days he would stay longer. When work was not important and you seemed thrilled to have him around, he’d lounge in the coffee shop and watch you work with a smile gracing your features.

And when the night falls, and you are tucked away in the privacy of your room, he would kiss every inch of your body that you allow him to touch and worship you as if you were a god, his god; preaching, marking and claiming you as his.

Every touch, every bite mark, every time you gasp for air when he drowns himself between your thighs, taking and taking in tandem what you offer in a silver plate; he cannot get enough, going for your sensitive spots one at a time until he has you shattering with pleasure and he chases after you to join. But no matter what, always prioritizing you.

That’s how ridiculous this whole thing is.

Phoenix and Jett are the few who are witness to his affections and love towards another human being— and made it out alive after being found out spying on the Japanese man. 

To say you saved them from the wrath of Yoru's anger despite having all the reasons to smite them would be an understatement. They are more than thankful, if not curious about your history with the riftwalker and what it meant to have a partner outside the realm of normalcy.

It was dangerous, in truth, to have his personal life disclosed this easily to everyone who was his comrade in battle. Nothing good would come out of it and his lies would be found out if you were to interact further with them.

But at the end, he realized it could favor him immensely if the others knew, except for you.

Yoru is not someone who can trust others easily, as previously stated. Quite the opposite. 

Through his tough persona, he evades people all the time to avoid being seen or cornered to socialize; insulting and pushing away whoever wants to approach him even from a friendly stance.

When you entered his life he understood he wouldn't be able to protect you alone. Hence the lies, to keep you at arms lengths. But now that you were too involved in his world, the best course of action that he finds reasonable is to rope a few other agents to ensure your safety, as dangerous as it might sound.

Cypher would make sure to erase every trace of interactions with the riftwalker after every meeting; all at the high price he won't disclose by contract with the Moroccan man. He is not proud of what he owes him now, but to know you're well secured and protected, he would do it again and again.

He contacted Killjoy to hack into the system to find any correlation of your social circle to whoever worked or is currently working for Kingdom. Once the list was delivered to his hands, Yoru would make sure everyone on the list would be erased from existence; not a single soul would be able to escape him.

By what methods? That's for him to take to the grave, with no witnesses.

You are his world, you are his everything, and he will make sure you are safe and sound or else hell will rise. 

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Omen: Words. [Knitting shop]

The concentration poured into keeping himself together could be arguably the best quality he could offer. 

Not everyone can pride themselves about the determination of keeping oneself alive for longer than nature intended; since his due time was past the date and he’s now breaking every little law of the universe, he wonders if this was some sort of punishment for going against it. 

He’s never asked to be revived into…a monster, despite having many people arguing that whatever he is now, is better than being dead.

A foolish thought.

Omen can definitely be naming the many reasons as to why it is not a miracle, but a penitence for his past mistakes when he was alive. Atoning for his sins in the form of smokes and dirty armor, from broken flesh and ignited bones, it pains him deeply being alive and despises whoever treats his hurt as if it were nothing.

Being reborn as a new being shifts something on his brain, unintentionally, and he begins treating himself as an inhuman. Therefore, anyone who looks his way treats him the same way: like a monster.

Is inevitable, really, a course of action not even he has the power to stop nor change. He goes along with whatever happens in his surroundings now, accustomed to his comrades' attitudes.

He’s more than aware of their dirty looks and general avoidance whenever he is in the vicinity, oblivious of his capability of sensing emotions through wavelengths or the fact that he’s witness to their change in demeanour— they know how to keep it professional enough so disturbances don't take place.

That is how his days go by, used to it, used to being an unsightly view and detriment to the morale of his comrades with his unsettling voice and mannerism. His turmoil means nothing if the rest is content with not having him around; so he absconds, hides himself most of the time and pretends he isn't alive for their sake.

There is nothing new in his everyday life.

Or so he thinks, before his curse tides the wave in his favor.

Imagine his surprise the first time someone didn't react negatively with his presence. 

It threw him off, confusion overtaking him and assuming he just read the cues wrong. It surprises him more when you don’t react at all until he speaks out loud, scaring the living shit out of you.

When you look at him, or more specifically, where you thought he was, Omen supposed this would go different.

Not being a sociable person, Omen finds it odd to have been convinced to come to Harajuku for materials he needed. Some of his knitting kits have gone missing, and trying not to bother his comrades, he never spoke about the issue.

Yoru made some reassurance, in his own way, that no one would mind the way he looks since everyone there was already a freak. Omen didn't refute his saying, since his words had truth in there, despite feeling offended. 

“They won't even notice you at night,” he commented.

No fear, no screams, not even a glance nor terrified expression painting your features besides being startled; that's how your first meeting went: only a smile and the pleasure to assist him.

Kind and lovely, adjectives Omen would never think of being used in his vocabulary, but for this occasion, it was necessary, a must to describe you. Amusing, too, whenever he would ask you questions about certain things, voice deep and reverberating it sent shivers down your spine; he made you nervous.

One more worker, just like him, but missing a certain ability most had.

You were blind.

For better or worse, it doesn't change your way of treating him like a human being; despite him losing his humanity over and over again on the battlefield, taking life after another, you treat him with a kindness and warmness that he has forgotten long ago. 

You are quick to erase the awful thoughts running through his brain with little chats and adorable clumsiness, chasing after him at the shop to keep talking. It was flattering that someone was taking an interest in him this deeply, and inevitably, he finds himself chasing after you too.

Omen believes this is how liking someone feels, contrary to his initial thoughts on socializing, he finds it fulfilling and easy to navigate with you with this newfound feeling.

His one time visit becomes a recurrent, always looking for you and ignoring everyone else in your surroundings to bask in your full attention and pretty smiles. Even when people visit the shop, even when people comment on his overall look with disgusted faces, one word from you eases his tension and doubts.

You are a sweetheart to a fault, letting everyone walk on you because of your calm demeanor and shy complex under stressful situations. He would watch people talk behind your back within your presence, ignoring completely the crestfallen expression on your face or the gathering tears in your eyes when you think he’s not there or no one notices.

They belittle you, doubt your work and decision making because of your lack of vision.

They doubt him too, for his appearance perhaps, he doesn’t know for sure. But their words begin to target him as well, stronger than before, with the full intention of seeing him fall and break under the pressure of the masses and therefore, you would fall too.

Omen decides he wants them gone.

Aim is another quality of his, you know?

A little secret whispered in your ear one night. With a promise to return and barrel of the gun cold, he goes off into the dark and blends in within the shadows surrounding the city to fulfill his wishes.

Whatever he does outside the sliding doors of the little shop should be none of your concern, but his alone. If you hear crying, muffled sounds at the end of the street, or just the minimum rustle at the entrance, he’s warned you to not chase after it.

Being covered in dry blood is not a pretty sight, and he wonders then, watching the life fading from another monster who dared disrespect you, if you would accept him for who he really is.

So when he reaches the threshold in the shop, startling you and freezing on the spot, he asks you if you would ever consider loving someone who doesn't belong in this world anymore.

When you kiss for the first time, Omen doesn't think, he can't, too overwhelmed to process what's going on.

It’s odd, but somehow, warming. Your face is warm with how embarrassed and nervous you feel, lips reaching into thin air, but at the same time, colliding against a surface you believe could be his mouth.

Your hands hold his head in place through the fabric of his hood, and he can feel your thumbs rubbing softly against what could be considered his cheeks in a soothing motion when you press further and then back away, smiling softly at him.

There are no words to say, it's unnecessary at this moment when the question has been answered.

Omen caresses your face with his claws, and he feels you shiver and sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch. 

Leaning in, he decides to take what he wants from you, and you gladly let him have his way with you, whispering his name the moment his hands disappear under your clothes and smoke embraces your whole body.

Inside the closed shop, no one is witness of the way Omen loves you that night, with his whole being and emotions only he dreamed of being real and is now a reality.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Gekko: Freedom. [An acquaintance]

Throughout his life, Mateo has always been considered a friendly person. 

Conversations here and there, making friends down the street, enamouring the grandladies next door who always gush over his cuteness and kindness as a little kid.

He's always been popular amongst the people surrounding him; a star shining brightly amongst others, a leader, a role model. Mateo is everything and all mothers wish for their kids to be when they grow up, for people to have as a friend, and for girls to want in their boyfriends.

But for him, none of it is of importance. It’s irrelevant and pointless to praise him non-stop when he believes nothing of what they say.

Mateo only wishes he could be freed from all of this pressure and simply live his life as a normal teenage boy.

Having been born and raised by a single mother has been tough, with the many expectations put onto his shoulders and many accomplishments he felt the need to fulfill, Mateo never had the time to discover himself in this world but to wear the shoes of someone who is predetermined to succeed.

They expected him to be smart; so he would study non-stop, missing hours of sleep and time to be playing outside just to focus on his grades and reach the top results. They expected him to be kinder; to always share his things, to share his food, to share his money until he was broke just to please the rest of the world. 

They expected many things he despised, but Mateo never said no.

It was like a curse he self-inflicted and didn’t know how to get rid of, and as much as he tries to lash out or simply think to rebel and live like he wants, the nagging feeling of guilt eats him alive before he acts.

Giving up and accepting the façade he's created is the easiest path. He will stop struggling, he will come to terms with what he's chosen and just bear with it.

Mateo will have to live chained to this fate.

But then, he met his little crew. 

The one time he decides to do something for himself, he gets wrapped into the biggest catastrophe that has ever been; affecting everything and everyone in the world until there is nothing but himself and his new friends.

The shift they cause is what makes him decide to start being selfish.

They say when you meet death face-on you can never become the person you used to be. In his case, it meant leaving behind the cocoon of someone who pleased everyone in his surroundings and was finally feeling the metaphorical chains break him free.

Mateo breathes deeply when he comes to that realization, and it almost feels like the first time doing it.

And it gets better.

Because through Reyna is how he meets you.

You are stunning, amazing, funny, gorgeous—he’s running out of words to describe you!

Shaking his hand for the first time, he knows it has to be you. The one to complete his puzzle, the one to fill that empty space of his new life.

Mateo falls in love with you right there and then.

He never believed to have strong feelings for anything in life nor desires that he deeply wanted for himself except freedom— but you made him change his perspective as soon as you came into his life.

It was as if a door had been unlocked and all the suppressed emotions bursted without control, clouding his mind and getting overwhelmed with what he was feeling until there were no other thoughts but you.

You were the contender of his affections and desires now, and Mateo, in his sick twisted way of thinking, thought that you will have to belong to him as well.

Just like he claimed his crew to be his, despite them being sentient, just like he claimed back his life, and just like he got the courage to toss away everyone who crossed his path and denied him the opportunity to evolve into someone better—he is now going to claim you as his.

Nevermind that you had a partner already, nevermind Reyna eyeing him carefully after the exchange of pleasantries, dubious and concerned because of his unstable emotions; his focus was you, and you alone.

Blame it on the world, blame it on Kingdom, fuck, blame it on him for going to this lengths to make sure he had a chance.

Mateo has killed people before. 

The Valorant protocol trains them to have impeccable aim and be smart about their actions, so it is no wonder he could kill your partner in one clean shot the next day and hide the body for no one to find.

Many secrets bloom from his action, but no regrets were found in his eerie smile nor empty hazel eyes when Reyna confronted him about it. Mateo had the upper hand, because he knew she wouldn't say a word—because despite being a cold-hearted person and having her judgment intact, she has a soft spot for him, and Mateo plans to abuse that for his goal.

It comes in handy with everything he taught himself when you look for someone to hold onto, crying and sobbing when your partner goes missing. 

Mateo acts empathetic, soothing your cries and assuring you he would never leave your side until your partner is found. He promises to do everything to help, and to keep you company as you try to heal from the sudden disappearance.

And it takes you a long time to move on. Deciding whether your partner abandoned you or simply decided to be gone from the world, Mateo's words bring a smile to your face every time he tries to cheer you up.

Flirting, teasing, and keeping you on the edge of your seat with his actions is his way to test the waters.

Mateo is eloquent when it comes to words and his ways of gaslighting. To make you trust him slowly and not only by baseless talking—is a long process, a tedious one where he needs to make sure everything is going according to what he needs and not be rash on his decisions.

He compliments everything you do, from what you wear to what you do. He’s always there whenever you need company or someone to talk to. 

Mateo brings years of experience in entertaining and being the good guy to make you like him; it’s genius how polished he has that persona that it looks natural.

Sometimes, when he feels the need to know the progress in the relationship he’s trying to build, he becomes bolder and breaches the friendly distance in which you keep him at. 

Mateo corners you in the hallway once, hovering over your mouth with inches apart, breaths intermingling and lips barely touching until he suddenly pulls away. He acts flustered and nervous, apologizing and making excuses as he escapes from the situation. But then he sees you from a distance, tip of your fingers touching your lips as he sees you shaking on the spot, too shy to move away or say something.

It’s like he’s toying with you on purpose, you think nervously. Face warm and a hammering heart threatening to burst through your chest. Mateo loves teasing you, but this has gotten to a point where he’s starting to slip and become desperate.

Because there is so much a man like him can tolerate. And the tension between you two, sexual tension that has him trembling and absconding in his quarters to find some relief in the pleasure you provoke him by just being there, is starting to make him lose his mind.

When you breach the barrier by throwing yourself at him one day, having enough of his constant teasing, and you fall onto your bed, climbing on top of him and kissing him with fervor and heated passion, he knows he’s won.

Mateo reciprocates with the same sentiment, drowning in your lips and taste, with his heart full and desires fulfilled. He holds you tightly and without restrain, hands roaming your body and touching and taking.

As clothes fall to the floor and your warm and naked bodies intermingle in a dance of passion, you confess your love to him between moans and gasps. 

Only when Mateo releases inside you, feeling the pulse of your walls fluttering around his cock as you reach your orgasm, does he allow himself to cry and kiss you all over as he confesses his love for you too.

This is what it means to have freedom.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Cypher: Family. [A chess piece]

In his culture, family is the most important aspect in their lives. The ones to trust unconditionally and love infinitely, and those who will reciprocate his feelings throughout their whole lives with no regrets.

To Amir, his grandfather was his world.

An angry old cranky man was he, beating the crap out of intruders who dared disrespect the La Amari family and protecting what little land they still held against Kingdom's agents.

His grandfather had no powers nor weapons for the enemy to fear him—but it was of no need for this battle. La Amari's grandfather was a well-respected person that his own people feared him sometimes; because he gave what no one else could: hope, enough of a little spark to inspire others into being active in the fight against Kingdom and their thirst for power.

That alone was dangerous, and it kept Kingdom's agents on a tight leash to not cause a riot.

“Think about what will make you lose, instead of what will make you win. To know what’s at stake is a better fuel to incentive you to protect it”, is a piece of advice Amir will never forget.

And it was the last thing his grandfather taught him.

It was devastating losing him at such a young age when he had a future to hold onto, people to take and many to guide. But Amir accepted its fate, because no one can defy death and its destiny; continuing living his life by those beliefs and advice and not disregarding everything he’s learnt.

Then he met Nora. He fell deeply in love, and had his first child. Every decision made, every move he took on life was calculated and thought before accomplishing it. Amir believed he had everything solved and paved until his very end, but nothing went according to his plan.

He was never able to figure out the plays of death, always one step ahead of him, and once again taking away everything that was important to him in one swift move.

Death wasn’t the culprit to his many misfortunes, though.

Imagine his surprise when he found out the same people who took Nora’s life were the same gang who murdered his grandfather many years ago. And later on, destroyed the rest of the lineage of La Amari.

The whole crime scene reeked from their trademark, unable to hold back and destroying everything on their way. It was a bloody mess, and the images of his family mangled and dead will remain grafted inside his brain for the rest of his life.

Amir believes that’s the moment where everything changed for him.

La Amari disappeared from the earth, he made sure of that, his family name was dead now and scrubbed from records. The only thing that will carry the memory is him, Cypher, in search of vengeance and answers.

But with time, everything changes its course of action and now Cypher is involved in what could be considered some sort of organization to save the world.

Funny how things evolve.

He meets new people, he learns a few things here and there, he gets fond of some kids, genius fellas they are, a techie and a walking bomb—Cypher takes everything in with open arms, but never without the advice resonating throughout his brain like an echo.

Think about what will make you lose.

Like a chant, he repeats the same sentence when meeting new agents or when deployed to missions. Cypher is the first to come up with solutions, the first to come with counterplans and always a step ahead of the enemy.

And then, like a rock thrown into a well, a disturbance is found.

You are a weird one, he thinks when meeting you for the first time, all smiles and sparky soul.

Jumping and talking non-stop, always a little ray of sunshine to the youngsters but annoying punk for the seniors.

It always seems to go on tangents when speaking with you. Cypher likes things concise and straight to the point, so it's obvious to him that he doesn't find you amusing in the slightless.

Cypher doesn't care for you at first, treating you with less than affection and little patience when dealing with you. You are nothing in his life, just another agent and someone else he needs to keep his eye on.

And then, you matter, in more ways than he anticipated.

Because the moment the anniversary of his wife and kid's death comes around, Cypher spirals into a pit of depression he hasn't felt since the incident, digging himself into his own tomb inch by inch as punishment and blaming himself for everything that hurted his loved ones.

And like a star shining in a dark pit, beckoning him with the warmth and gentle touch, is when everything goes to shit.

Because you, being the smart cookie you are, sympathized with him the moment you saw him break down and closed off to the world in panic.

You are not Nora, you don’t even resemble her in any aspect whatsoever, but his frivolous and conflicted brain twists your actions, your pure intentions, into something that he desperately thinks he needs.

Comfort.

Cypher sees in you an anchor to take advantage of, and you are so unaware of his intentions, so innocent and flustered so easily by his words, that you simply follow whatever he needs you to do.

An obedient little fella, a sweet young adult ready to help whoever needs it without regarding their own self. You follow him like a puppy inside the protocol, you shine brighter when he compliments you, you are so thirsty for his attention he never leaves you hanging with anticipation.

Cypher accepts then that you are what he needs now to fill his own wish and hole in his heart until he takes care of the bigger matters.

But to have you, he needs to think clearly; to own you, he needs to make his moves smartly.

Finding information about your background, your life, the people you mingle with and the man you were obligated into marrying is easy. Is like you're leaving this all for him to find on purpose, is like you know he's doing this to get you, and you're helping him.

And damn him! A surprise is what he finds amongst your files! A family member of the gang who destroyed his life, the gang who were hired by Kingdom to erase La Amari's lineage and conquer the little lands of Morocco. You! You were the key to everything to finally finish what his grandfather started many years ago!

Cypher is joyful, ecstatic, and so eager to take everything from them and, as a prize, keep you to himself.

And when he has everything he needs, he begins his game.

It’s so easy. Breaking down their walls, breaking their security and their lackeys, is like a child's game when he realizes this is not a challenge.

Like chess, his moves are smart and calculated, and everything crumbles in front of their eyes.

Think about what will make you lose.

He makes the first move, killing the white's pawn.

Your friends are the first to fall. One by one, they die by his hands and his own methodological mind games to gain information regarding you and your family.

They plead for forgiveness, they ask him to leave you alone, but Cypher is quick to silence them forever.

Humming to himself, he moves his bishop to kill the white's knight.

That little husband of yours put up a real struggle. It was not an easy task to have them under control, nor make them give you up as he snarls and fights to get free.

Cypher was taken aback by their loyalty, surprised but eager that this might turn bloodier than he anticipated. 

It’s funny, too, that despite having someone who loves you this deeply, you always look for Cypher. As if this person isn't enough to satisfy you. 

Cornering the white's queen was easy. 

Every obstacle was eliminated. Anything and anyone he considered might cross his path or make the situation difficult for his plans to move forward is no longer a threat to him, nor his objective.

Cypher fixes the pieces to their positions once he's finished, and in turn, clicks on a button of his surveillance set-up. 

The many screens light up with views from the cameras he has around the base and hidden away by simple eyes.

In one of them, he sees you walking down the hallway with quick steps, hurriedly making your way to Cypher's room.

He sees the determination in your expression, the fast pacing of your steps and in less than a minute you are at his door, huffing to catch your breath and eyes wandering around his room.

Your body language says everything he needs to know—from your shuffle in feet and avoidance to look him into his eyes. You are nervous, if not a little shy to confront him about something.

But he is patient, hands resting on his lap and legs crossed, awaiting for your words with eagerness.

“I like you,” you say, approaching him slowly and nervously rubbing your arms. “I like you a lot, Cypher.”

Unaware of his affairs, you inch closer and kneel in front of him, hands holding onto his and looking into his eerie blue eyes.

“Will you take me?” you ask.

Cypher smiles under his mask, a finger under your chin and gently caressing your lower lips with his thumb.

“But of course, my dear. You are mine now.”

He has won.

—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

Miks (Song). [A rave]

Adrijan believes he has everything figured out by this point.

With the radiant powers he’s been bestowed upon, and the energy of his people that surround him all the time, he knows for sure nothing can go wrong nor amiss with how things play out.

All he has: friends, family, a community; it’s what anyone could ask for and more. They always reassure him and say how blessed they are to have him to rely on. Their pillar, their hero, their most trusted friend—

If only he wasn’t getting fed up with the good guy act, he’d have been more than happy to hear such words. It starts to get tiring when he isn’t able to maintain a grin nor the hype at the raves he hosts; few do notice, he’s come to realize, but never say a thing. 

Why would they, when they literally feed off his energy to keep them entertained? Most of that crowd doesn’t look after him nor his own vibes. They all are selfish and intolerable, sometimes he wonders why he still mingles with those people.

It gets to a point where Adrijan starts to detach himself from what’s considered normal behaviour—or normal under the umbrella of social status. Unaware of his own faults and defects, it’s easier to blame others instead of admitting he has a problem too; however, it shows in the way it affects him psychologically.

The shift is not obvious at first. It starts slow, and with little things no one would bat an eye to. 

His manner of speech becomes unstable and slightly aggressive, the words he uses are no longer mindful nor thought of before being said; even his actions seem to change when he isn’t careful and becomes, more often than not, violent to things that he has no control over.

The people don’t seem to mind, for they are just like him, if not worse sometimes. If he were to be placed next to that sort of crowd, he would be seen like an angel instead of the amalgamation of personalities he has become.

Ollie and Klara were lucky to have come across him when his emotions were somewhat stable and was acting friendly after his sets were played at a local rave. 

With the adrenaline running high, and the good energy pumping through his veins, he lent them an ear after discovering he was a radiant just like a few of their comrades.

Despite the atmosphere not being the most adequate to handle a conversation about an ongoing war, fighting against agents of their mirror selves, and the possibility of their own world collapsing because of the radianate, Miks was more than ready to reject their proposal to help them out.

He was sure he didn’t want to become another pillar for a group of people who meant nothing to him, even when a lot was at stake.

What contradicted his decision was meeting you a second after they begged him to consider it. Their words were lost in the background with the music as his green eyes focused and locked onto your form approaching them.

You were beautiful. 

Probably the most beautiful being he has seen in his entire life and has come across his insignificant life.

Singing along to the music blasting through the stereos, arms thrown over Ollie and Klara’s shoulders, you smiled at him, asking for his name, and he was a goner.

The instability of his emotions was kept under control when he finally joined the protocol and was asked to live with them for better management. He found no issue as long as you were there too, and that’s probably why no one suspected him of being…dangerous.

Miks falls in love hard and fast. Like a lighting bolt striking his heart and filling a void he never realized he possessed.

He’s not ashamed to admit it to anyone who asks despite their worrying glances and constant questions. He is proud of the love he holds for you, and wishes you could see it too. 

The questions come from a place of constant worry for you, though. They notice. They see it. The obsession he has for you is not healthy.

But every time you were on the team, success was guaranteed. When everything is at high stake, those moments are when his love and emotions are in tune for one goal: to protect you. 

Nevermind that Miks sacrifice absolutely everyone if it means you come back alive and well. In the battlefield, no one else matters but his beloved, and everyone has learned that they can’t fully rely on him, except for you, perhaps.

Miks lives by it. Lives by you and your words of encouragement when he does a good job. Lives by your feather touch and stolen glances when you cross paths. He is so enamoured by everything about you and it shows in every single action of his that is almost pathetic. It gets to the point everyone in the protocol knows of his devotion to you, and only you, that he is seen as the loverboy whose darling doesn’t seem to realize he is in love with her.

It hurts, though. 

It hurts him deeply that he is such a coward for never saying it outright to your face that you continue with your life as if his love meant nothing. He likes to think you are doing it on purpose to stir the fire consuming him slowly; to keep him on the edge of a seat and simply waiting for him to be unable to take it anymore and explode.

It’s cruel, but it excites him.

But there is so much a man like him can handle as he keeps his true nature bottled up.

The ticking bomb reaches its limit on a rave he hosts.

Sets are ready, the equipment works wonderfully and the crowd chants his name as if he were a god. He is the main show for the night, and makes sure to be as handsome as he can get for you.

Ollie and Klara weren’t able to make it. But it’s not like he cares much, cuz’ as long as you are there, nothing else matters. 

Amongst the crowd of people who gathered around his set up, you were dancing and jumping to the beat of the songs he played. You were all smiles and laughter, singing and moving with the rest of the sea of people. Miks winks at you as he maneuvers a vinyl before hooking it up to the recorder. You cover a smile behind your hand and wink at him playfully, his heart soars.

The happiness doesn’t last for long. For a fraction of a second, just a moment where he makes a change of songs and a few of the crew distracts him, he loses sight of you.

The low lights and heated ambient doesn’t help the anxiety skyrocketing when he can’t find you anywhere with his eyes. The show keeps going though. Miks tries to maintain calm and keep the crowd eager and energetic. His eyes flit around the space all the time, minutes pass by, and then, finally, he spots you in the far back.

Making out with a friend of his. 

Like a broken record, everything in his brain halts and he freezes upon seeing the betrayal play in front of his very eyes.

And all he sees is red.

There is no one who doubts his intentions when he speaks with the crew to cede his space to the next DJ earlier than intended, and steps down in a hurry to make his way towards you.

His blood rushes to his ears, his hands ball into fists, and his eyes hold a fury and vengeance no one has witnessed in him before as he avoids the bodies of people still dancing, unaware of the hell that has broken loose. If he hasn’t taken his gun out it was only because he is still trying to maintain appearances despite wanting to put a bullet through his head.

The anger grows tenfold when a few of his group of friends try to stop him with barks of laughter, trying to appease him as he snatches his arm from their hold. One of them tells him to let his friend have his fun for a bit longer before they take turns with you. They offer him a spot as well, too blind to realize the anger residing in his chest.

He pushes the guy away and goes to grab his friend by the back of his shirt to peel him away from you. Your body crumbles onto the floor with a loud thud.

Aware is not a word he could use to describe you right now—disoriented and lost is how you look, with the eyes bloodshot and disheveled clothes, looking up at him in confusion as you can’t seem to process what’s going on.

The relief he feels when he realizes you’ve been drugged and weren’t doing this out of your own volition is gratifying. Oh, Miks knew you couldn’t betray him like this! How foolish of him to even have considered it in the first place.

Only when he secures your safety inside his room backstage, he goes back to the group and drags them away from the rave with light conversation and empty friendly smiles, promising them a more exciting adventure.

Miks takes his time with each of them by denying any way of escape or salvation. One bullet per limb, he makes sure everyone has one on at least one leg to ensure they won’t escape before reaching for more bullets and reloading his sheriff mumbling a happy tune.

He only gags them after because their cries have started to annoy him, and ties them up to trees surrounding him in a circle; away from prying eyes but close enough so the music can muffle their pained screams. 

“A demonstration, if you may,” he grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

With his sonic vibrations he covers one of the guy's ears and emits a high pitched wavesound that has his victim writhe in pain until the orifices begins bleeding. What follows next are his shoulders, gathering up pressure into his palms and slamming them down hard until the bones crack and pop under his touch with a reverberating bass. 

The rest don’t take long to realize Adrijan is going for torture without an once of pity as he cleans his hands on what used to be his friend’s clothes. He goes for every spot that might make them suffer the most, experimenting and toying with them, laughing brightly alongside their cries and screams for mercy.

Each one of them meets the same slow and most painful punishment he can deliver by the end. He hopes anyone misfortuned enough to commit the same crimes knows that Miks will fight and murder for your sake, no matter the consequences.

By the time he is done, what used to be his group of friends are nothing more than a pile of flesh and broken bones, bleeding out slowly and life no longer clinging to any of them.

When he goes back to you, proud of his actions and more than eager to take you away, you welcome him with a sob and pained cries, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you ask him to never leave you alone again. 

Miks hugs you tighter, face burying into your hair as he inhales your scent and promises in hushed whispers that he belongs to you, and only you.

When you hold his bloody face with tenderness and lean up to kiss him, soft and gently, Adrijan admits to himself he would do this again if it meant protecting you.

Cypher knows everything about you. Your favorite band, the names of your parents, what town you grew up in and the street you used to live on. He knows what brand of shampoo you like to use and what time you go to bed every night. He knows all your deepest fears and close-kept secrets. It’s his business to know; he knows everything about everyone at the Protocol. It’s not something he takes pleasure in, but it’s necessary. Not a single piece of information can stay hidden from him.

So, naturally… he knows you have a crush on him.

Honestly, though, he never needed his cameras to work that out. It’s painfully obvious how you feel about him. You’re one of the newer agents, having been with the Protocol only a few months, yet in that short span of time, he’s evidently managed to catch your attention. You laugh at his jokes more than anyone else, blush at the slightest contact he makes with you, and tease him with affectionate pokes and remarks. You stick close to him on missions, like a puppy scared to wander too far, and when younger agents invite you to join them during training, you turn them down in favor of playing chess with him. Not to mention, you’re always stealing smitten glances at him when you think he’s not looking.

He notices. He always does.

How he became the object of your attraction, he has no idea. He spent a decent amount of time with you when you first joined, teaching you some computer skills and helping you in the firing range once or twice. Maybe it was all those times his fingers brushed yours while sharing the keyboard, or the times he’d stood with you during shooting practice, gently adjusting your posture. He can’t be sure when exactly it started; all he knows is that you’ve been acting like this for over a month now, and you haven’t been subtle about it.

It’s not that he’s not flattered. You’re a beautiful girl, with a kind heart and a good head on your shoulders—anyone would be lucky to have you interested in them. But your attraction to him doesn’t make sense. You’re young, for one—considerably younger than him—and surrounded by good-looking agents around your age. Yet you pine for him—a man in his forties whose face you’ve never once seen. Whose face can never be seen. You couldn’t be more different from him, and you know so little about him, yet you want him all the same. It baffles him.

At first, he thought it was a temporary crush—a passing fancy, brought on by misplaced admiration, that would swiftly end when an attractive young agent inevitably swooped in and took your attention away. And some indeed made efforts, asking you out over text or making quiet offers in the corner of the training room—but when you turned them all down, one by one, he was forced to realize he’d been wrong about your feelings. This was anything but a silly phase.

You weren’t just crushing. You had it bad.

Saying he doesn’t know how to feel is an understatement. But he does know one thing for certain: he can’t be with you.

There are too many reasons why. Most obviously, you’re too young. He’s an older man, and you deserve to be with someone younger, someone who can grow with you the way he can’t. His life experiences far outweigh yours, and he’s been with Valorant much longer; being with you would feel like taking advantage of you, a naive new agent, and invite unwanted judgment from the rest of the Protocol. More importantly, though, being with you would be impractical; his work takes priority over everything else, including relationships—romantic or otherwise. No one can interfere with nor know the full extent of his duties, and no one can ever see his face. You would never see his face, or learn more about him in any truly meaningful way. He couldn’t possibly allow it.

More than all of those things, however, there’s also the painful truth about his past; he was married once, and his wife is gone. It’s been over a decade, but her death still haunts him, even if part of her lives on in the eyes of his daughter. The fact remains that he hasn’t been with anyone since her, and even if he were to enter a relationship, it could never be a fully honest one, free of secrets. His daughter must remain hidden. If you knew he had a secret child out in the world, one he could never tell you about, would you even feel this way about him, or want to be with him?

Truth be told, he isn’t exactly sure if being with him is your goal. You like him, there’s no doubt about it, but in all the weeks you’ve been crushing on him, you haven’t confessed to him, nor asked him out on anything that could be considered a date. You haven’t even tried to spend extra time with him. You hang around him when you can, in the common room or training room or on missions, but you never seek more than that, even though you seem to want more. More than once, he’s heard you gossip with Killjoy in her lab; she knows all about your crush, and encourages you to tell him how you feel, but you always come up with excuses why you can’t.

“I shouldn’t. He doesn’t like me like that.”

“It’s not the right time.”

“I could never. He might still be grieving.”

“No, please don’t talk to him about it. It would make things too awkward.”

Your reasons for not confessing certainly aren’t invalid. In fact, he appreciates your desire to respect him. But what perplexes him about all this is the way you’ve trapped yourself.

You seem to believe he doesn’t like you back, that he could never be open to a relationship with you, and yet you haven’t put any distance between yourself and him. True, the two of you have to work together frequently, but surely, the best way to rid yourself of feelings for someone is to spend less time around them, or spend more time with others instead—perhaps alternative romantic candidates. But you haven’t done any of that. You haven’t gone out with anyone, you still play chess with him almost every day, you still cast longing looks at him during briefings and always sit next to him on the jet. It’s as if you can’t stay away from him, even if you think it’s what you should do.

Is it that you can’t help yourself? Is it that, deep down, you think you might still have a chance, despite what you’ve told Killjoy? Is it something else?

Cypher supposes that maybe, just maybe, he has… encouraged you, in a way.

He’s been aware of your feelings this whole time, yet admittedly he hasn’t tried to distance himself from you. Mostly because he has appearances to maintain, and actively avoiding an agent he’s friends with would be suspicious—and cruel—but he thinks that perhaps, it’s because he doesn’t want to avoid you. He likes you. Not romantically, but he finds you charming. Sweet. He enjoys spending time with you, having someone who laughs at his jokes and regularly plays chess with him. He doesn’t particularly see a reason to keep his distance from you. It’s not as if proximity to you will change the way he feels about you.

He doesn’t have feelings for you, after all.

You’re a grown woman, and you can handle yourself just fine. If you want to spend less time with him, maintain some distance to try and move on from your crush, he has no problem with that. He’s not responsible for you or your feelings, and he can’t be hurt by whatever decision you make. You’re free to do as you like, and so is he.

It’s not until one evening in Killjoy’s lab that he gives the whole thing any more thought.

Cypher strolls in just as you’re leaving, giving you a nod of greeting—a gesture you return with a shy smile. You venture away down the hall, and the door slides shut behind him, leaving him alone with Killjoy and a couple of her bots.

“Hello, little engineer,” he greets her cheerily, clapping his hands together. “I was wondering if you had any spare parts you would be willing to… donate. I’ve been needing a servo, if you have one to spare.”

He notices for the first time that she looks unusually annoyed, arms crossed like a mother ready to scold her child for misbehaving. “Cypher. We need to talk.”

“Hm? Talk?” He steps closer. “Ah, if this is about that motor I borrowed, I fully intend to give it back… eventually.”

“Not that.” She says your name once—insistently.

You?

He repeats your name aloud as a question. “What about her?”

Killjoy rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m talking about.”

“...Do I?” he asks carefully. What is this about?

“Cypher!” she says exasperatedly. “Scheiße, I can’t hold this in any longer. You’re torturing that poor girl!”

He stiffens, caught off-guard by the accusation. “I—don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please.” She shakes her head. “You know she likes you! And I know that you know.”

Cypher is quiet for a few seconds, genuinely unsure what to say. She actually decided to bring this up with him? He hadn’t expected that.

Are you aware this is happening? Or is Killjoy acting on her own here?

“I’m surprised,” he finally says. “I thought you were keeping the secret for her.”

“Secret? It’s hardly a secret,” she responds. “Half the Protocol knows she’s in love with you, the way she’s always fawning over you. But you knew before they did, didn’t you? You’ve known this whole time.”

He shrugs his shoulders lightly. “She’s not exactly subtle.”

“She’s been confiding in me,” Killjoy continues. “I’ve told her to tell you outright how she feels, but she won’t listen to me. She’s too scared.” She sighs. “She told me not to talk to you, but I have no other choice now.” She gives him an utterly serious look. “Tell me now: do you like her too?”

Like her? Do I like her?

“I…” He hesitates, put on the spot. “I—if you’re asking if I have feelings for her, then the answer is… no.” He clears his throat. “I like her, of course I do. But… not like that.”

I don’t feel that way about her.

I couldn’t. It’s just… not possible.

She exhales heavily. “Then you need to tell her that,” she says sternly. “She won’t confess to you on her own, but she won’t leave you alone. Somewhere in her silly heart, she thinks you might like her back.” Another sigh. “You have to tell her that you don’t, or she won’t move on.”

“Wait—you’re asking me to reject her?” he asks, stunned.

“I’m asking you to let her down gently.”

“She—hasn’t told me how she feels about me. I can’t reject her if she hasn’t confessed.”

“You know everything, Cypher. I know that, she knows that. She probably assumes you do know and you’re just keeping quiet about it. And the attention you give her is not helping.”

“What? Attention?” he repeats. “I treat her like everyone else.”

“Oh really?” Killjoy raises an eyebrow. “Do you tease all your chess partners the way you tease her? What would you do if she stopped playing with you one day?”

He sputters. “I—I would play by myself. That’s what I always did, before she came.”

“And what about the little compliments you give her?” she questions. “The touches, here and there, to get her attention? Trying to make her laugh, and no one else? You’re making her think she’s special.”

“That is—not my intention,” he insists, though not very assertively. “I… enjoy her company. Is that so bad?”

“I think you like that she likes you,” she states plainly. “You like the attention. But you’re stringing her along, Cypher. You have to tell her the truth.”

“I’m not—I am not stringing her along,” he protests, his tone firmer now. “She’s an adult, and she can do what she wants. She can tell me how she feels, or she can keep quiet about it if she chooses.”

“She’s stubborn, Cypher. I can’t convince her to confess. She just needs a push.”

“Rejecting her outright like that—it would be cruel. It would break her heart.”

“It’s more cruel to keep her in suspension like this!”

“I’m not doing anything to hurt her! I will not coddle her because she won’t tell me how she feels.”

“I’m not asking you to—!” Killjoy cuts herself off, pulling her hair frustratedly. After a heartbeat, she groans, regathering her composure. “You know what? Fine. Don’t do anything. Continue doing what you’re doing, and I’ll continue watching the two of you dance around each other until the end of time. That’s fine. So fine. Just wunderbar.”

She turns and heads over to her worktable, evidently finished with the conversation. He stands in place, watching her start to tinker with something with her back turned. He knows he should probably leave, but something keeps him there. Something close to guilt.

Deep down, he knows she wasn’t wrong about everything. Maybe he has been stringing you along, in a way, without fully realizing it. But that doesn’t change how he feels about the situation.

“You know I can’t be with her,” Cypher says in a low voice.

Killjoy pauses in her work. After a moment, she sets down the piece with a sigh. “Why not?” she asks—sincerely, not sharply. She turns to look at him. “Because of Nora?”

He winces. “Because of this,” he tells her, pointing to his mask.

And everything else.

“You know she doesn’t care about that, right?” she says. “She doesn’t care about any of it.”

“She should,” he murmurs. “I don’t know how she could feel this way about me.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. I suppose I blame your irritating charm.”

“I’m too old for her.”

“I think so, too, but I’m pretty sure she’s made up her mind already.” She laughs wryly. In a more serious tone, she asks, “You really don’t have feelings for her? None at all?”

He’s already shaking his head before he can give his answer. “I… I don’t. I can’t.”

“You can’t have feelings for her, or you don’t want to have feelings for her?”

The question puts him at a loss.

Both?

Neither?

It’s not that he doesn’t care for you. He does—very much. You’re his teammate, his friend; he wants you safe, and happy. He likes spending time with you, perhaps more than most other agents. He loves to see you smile, hear you laugh. He can’t even deny you’re attractive. But what he feels for you isn’t romantic. It… can’t be.

A relationship with you just wouldn’t make sense. He’s older than you, more experienced, embittered and beaten down by the world. You’re so young, so innocent, still with hope left in you. You would be good to him if you were his. He has no doubt you would be kind, loving, honest. But he can’t promise you the stability you deserve—not with the life he lives, the life he’s chosen for himself. You would never feel secure being with him—never knowing the real him, never even knowing what his face looks like. Even if he did have feelings for you, he couldn’t ask you to make that sacrifice for him.

He could never truly be the partner you need.

After a lengthy silence, he at last answers, “It doesn’t matter.” Before Killjoy can reply, he turns toward the door. “I… have a busy night ahead of me. Goodnight, little engineer.”

She opens her mouth, as if to object to him leaving, but ultimately changes her mind. She plops down in one of her chairs, and Alarmbot stations itself at her feet like a loyal dog.

“Goodnight, Cypher,” she returns with a tired wave of her hand.

He tips his hat to her, then, turning away from her, he opens the door and leaves the lab.

^ ^ ^

Cypher returns to his room with a strange, heavy feeling in his chest.

After unmasking and undressing, he takes a brisk shower, then settles at his desk, prepared to remain there for most of the night. He hadn’t lied to Killjoy about having a busy night ahead—though honestly, every night is a busy night for him. All the work keeps his mind occupied, and he’s grateful for it.

Tonight, he needs the distraction more than ever.

He throws himself into his research, compiling data and letting his fingers fly across the keyboard as he works. At the same time, his monitors play live footage of all the agents in their rooms—at least, all the ones home at HQ and not away on assignments. In between downloads, he checks the monitors, and eventually catches you returning to your room at ten PM. You went to train after leaving Killjoy’s lab, and it looks like you’re just now turning in for the night.

You vanish into your bathroom to shower, emerging not long after in only a towel. In an instant, he looks away from your section of the monitor, diving back into his work again. After several minutes, he lets his eyes wander back to the monitor, checking just to make sure you’re dressed.

You’re not.

His heart nearly stops when he sees what you’re doing. You’re lying back on your bed, fully naked, fingers moving between your spread legs. Your eyes are shut, your head thrown back in pleasure, your lips forming words he can’t hear.

You’re touching yourself.

Cypher can’t move. Can’t speak. Worst of all, he can’t look away.

He’s seen you touch yourself before. He has twenty four-seven surveillance on your room, just like everyone else’s, and all footage is recorded and painstakingly reviewed by him; naturally, he’s come across footage of you masturbating—and not just you, but other agents as well. Every sexual act or encounter that’s happened at Valorant HQ, he’s seen it—but all the footage is skipped through, never thoroughly studied, never enjoyed by him. He never deletes any of it—storing every file away for potential blackmail or leverage purposes—but he’s never stopped to truly watch the content, let alone take pleasure from any of it, like some kind of depraved voyeur.

He’s only seen you masturbate after it’s already happened—footage that was quickly fast-forwarded, filed away, and forgotten. But this is happening now, right before his eyes.

He stares at the monitor, fixed on your designated corner of the screen. You writhe on the bed in silent ecstasy, rolling your hips as you pleasure yourself. Before he can stop himself, his fingers are typing out commands—one to enhance size, one to switch to camera three—and suddenly you’re taking up the entire monitor, the camera giving him a view of your naked body that brings him closer than he’s ever been.

He can see every inch of you from this perspective—your smooth, soft skin, your exposed, supple breasts, your enraptured expression. Your fingers sink into your cunt, rhythmically plunging in and out, and your mouth moves like you’re not only moaning, but talking to yourself. What is it you’re saying?

Are you coaxing yourself through your pleasure? Are you calling out for someone?

Are you calling out for him?

Of course it’s him. There’s no one else it could possibly be. He knows you’re saying his name—his codename, at least—before he even sees your lips shape the syllables.

Cy-pher.

Cy-pher.

Please.

Fuck me.

He forces himself out of his trance.

For the first time in the last ten years, Cypher shuts off his monitor. The screen goes black, swallowing up the image of you—you and your naked body, sinfully on display. Heart pounding, he sits back in his chair, raking his hand over his scalp. The rest of his monitors remain on, but he can’t look at them right now. He can’t look at anything.

His cock is hard under his pants—so hard it hurts to move. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have the strength to move anyway.