Starting off my Dispatch As Your Partner Series with my personal fave of course 💧🫶🏻
Warnings: very slightly suggestive comments
༄ The sweetest!!! Don’t worry if you take things literally a lot because Herm SAYS things literally. Too shy to tease until a ways into the relationship because he’s so afraid of it coming across wrong, and even then it’ll be mild stuff like saying “down there” if you’re quite a bit shorter than him or being like ‘Uh, I dunno, do you like (xyz)?’ about your favorite thing ever because he knows! Of course he does!
༄ Shows up or opens the door with a bouquet of flowers on your first date just like his grandma told him he should 😌
༄ Quality time is one of his love languages. Herm would never need or demand a fancy date from you. If you ask him, all he needs for a date is a couch or two chairs because he could sit and listen to music, play games, watch anything, and most importantly just talk to you for HOURS!
༄ Spontaneous gifts! If you both work at SDN, don’t be surprised to find little surprises on your desk or in your locker. Maybe it’s just a snack you like or your favorite flavor donut from Granny’s. It just as likely could be a cute little plushie Herm knows you’d like when he hears you’re having a bad day or a replacement for that craft item/tool/piece of tech that broke down on you. Your boyfriend is like your little shadow, always listening and lifting you up even when he can’t be physically there!
༄ You’ll be a couple for a year plus and moved in together and he’s still turning bright red and going incoherent when he lays eyes on you all dressed up or in lingerie. He’s just that into you, forever.
༄ Loves holding both your hands in his! Just while you’re cuddling or talking or to pull you in for a kiss, it just feels so sweet and he loves the anchor, the reassurance that you’re not going anywhere.
༄ Not usually one for nicknames unless you request it or have one you always go by— he just loves your name because it’s you, and that tastes so much better on his tongue than any corny old title!
༄ Remembers EVERY little detail. If you wear jewelry, he only buys you the silver/gold/rose gold you prefer. If there’s a food you dislike, he’ll avoid it like the plague, maybe not even keeping it at home at all. If you have long hair and like having the option of tying it back, Herm keeps a spare hair or headband in his bag or pocket. Wear a bonnet at night? He keeps a spare one of those too. Naturally dehydrate or sweat a lot? Oh look, he has electrolytes ready to go—believe him, he’s been there!
༄ Sometimes it’s too much…in a good way, don’t worry! Always a caretaker, when the tables turn and you happily take care of Herm instead he is absolutely overcome, tearing up and telling you again and again how much he loves you and how nice it feels. “How- how are you real?”
༄ In the same vein it’s almost second nature for him to make self-deprecating comments like ‘Who’d wanna kiss a guy who’s wet all the time, you know? I get it.’ He looks so surprised when you tell him ‘Uh, me.’ and may mot believe it until you yank him in and kiss him stupid so please do that!!
༄ Cracks the fuck up when you get dirty or sweaty or just feelin’ like it and ask him to pressure wash you because honestly, you’re way too chill about this and also that’s a new one. How nearly a quarter of a century in are people still coming up with new jokes, insults, AND requests alike?
༄ He wouldn’t push, but secretly hopes you like to cuddle. Warns you about the moisture as if you hadn’t thought of that already, but when you shush him and say you came prepared, yanking him in without a moment’s hesitation, Herm is stuck on you like a tall, skinny magnet. His body intertwines so perfectly with yours, every nook and cranny tucked into each other until you don’t know where you end and he begins.
༄ Absolutely will do the hold-up-a-radio-out-your-window thing once. Just because he can. It may be at an inopportune time but hey, once you finally are out of the shower and notice him you’re shouting your appreciation and inviting your wobbly-armed boyfriend in.
༄ Loves to make you laugh! Gets super goofy when you’re sad, doing stupid voices and the dumbest bits in the world until you’re laughing or at least cracking a smile for him. “Hey,” he says, directing your eyes up to his, “It’s gonna be ok. Really.”
༄ Gets really flustered when you get really comfortable and just start walking around with wet spots on your clothes. Hey, at least he knows you’re willing to show him off!
༄ The habit he does when he finally starts getting comfortable, though, that contributes directly to those wet spots or more likely some very shiny skin is resting a hand on your knee or thigh. His long hands develop minds of their own and rub up and down your legs when you’re seated next to each other or cuddling.
༄ One day Herm really shyly asks what you think of name jewelry or accessories, “Like, would…would you think that was weird or more like a nice gesture? I’m fine either way, I was just wondering since, you know…” He really is fine either way, but if you asked him his thoughts point blank he’ll finally stop beating around the bush and admit he likes the idea of you guys having something like a little necklace or bracelet with the other’s name on it. It would take even more convincing or being in the right scenario, but he might even eventually admit he likes the idea of people knowing he’s yours and yours alone— you practically own him.
༄ Actually quite a good cook! His grandmother has taught him so many family recipes and keeping her fed and healthy is part of his job, so you will be quite the same! Brings you meal preps at work and plays chef when you’re over, pretending he’s on a cooking show and you’re his live audience to show off for!
༄ Shy about initiating kisses, but when he does, you always feel him smile when you kiss back.
༄ The longer you’re together, he’ll start dropping hints in conversation to see how you’d like to be proposed to, what rings you like, etc. What can he say, he’s a romantic at heart and this is one thing he can’t fail.
hey everything's gonna be fine,,,,, parental f/o making you homemade soup, okay?? parental f/o checking your temperature with the back of their hand, okay??? parental f/o hugging you so tightly and telling you that you're being tough as nails right now, okay????? parental f/o making sure you take any medicines or vitamins you need to feel better, okay??????? okay???????????????
Outis but her significant other is incredibly physically affectionate. uh oh
she stiffens at first. hand twitching, deciding whether to stay or shove you back. it lowers eventually. curling at her side. not relaxed- just there. waiting for the other shoe to drop. you simply squeeze her tighter, nuzzling your cheek against her shoulder. warm and solid, her coat smelling faintly of gunpowder and smoke. a scent she could never shake, no matter how far she ran. Outis huffs, refusing to look at you. she can't slip up. not now. you're probably just doing this to manipulate her. to get something out of her, like all her superiors and fellow soldiers. yet her head still lowers, reluctantly, to rest against your shoulder. such a sin, such temptation. not even she can resist fleeting closeness- not with the way you hold her so tenderly
Outis does not soften. Outis does not yield. does not yearn, or dream, or snuggle
then why can't she let go?
slowly, your embraces become the norm. she expects your leaping hugs, the press of your forehead against hers. the hand constantly grasping hers, the occasional bumps and happy nudges. never admitting how much she craves this. your sweet, gentle love. on calm days she'll gesture to her room, a silent invitation. you lie at her side as she reclines on the couch, head tucked into the crook of her neck and idly fidgeting with her fingers. they're scuffed and scarred, nails blunt against callused skin. her eyes close- then open. flick downwards as you pepper the marks with kisses. Outis feels her cheeks warm, fighting the urge to smile. her hand cupping the back of your head and massaging any lingering tension away. oh. she's addicted now, to your touch and affection. her heart full and gaze meltingly soft
she'll have to hide it from the others. just stay in her room with her, for now. maybe one day she'll have the confidence to hug you back
Imagine if Robert gets a little more openly emotional when he's sick. You show up with soup and meds and a heated blanket and he starts crying a little over how nice it feels to be taken care of......
thinking about robert who gets a cold or something.
and he’s barely lucid, running a high fever and unable to get out of bed. he’s drifting in and out of sleep, curled up in his sheets, feeling too warm and cold all at once.
he feels a hand press to his forehead, hears you coaxing him to open his mouth. he doesn’t want to disappoint you, so he does.
robert sleeps for a long time after that, the medicine you gave him easing the fever. at some point you switch out the blanket for a heated one, and he nearly starts crying because he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t know why you’re being so nice when he’s just…your friend.
maybe more, he doesn’t know yet.
but Robert gets soup, he gets his head kissed, and warm blankets, and maybe he doesn’t need to get into specifics right now. so for once, he allows himself to be taken care of.
CONTENT: You're a Dispatcher from another program. What happens when you catch the eye of the Phoenixes? Or how they act when they have a crush on you <3
Oh, he has enough problems to deal with. Mostly from his own program. So why the fuck is he thinking about someone from another?
The first time he encountered you was in the break room, when you were cursing the damn stupid fucking coffee maker that won't work and he helped you out by plugging the unplugged cord.
He'll never forget how your eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief, before you turned to face him and he almost sputtered in shock when he saw your face fully. You told him it was the stress from your program getting to you, and Robert could barely contain his amused smile at that.
After a short introduction and an embarrassing apology, Robert watched you leave the room with a dangerous curiosity curling in his chest.
He quickly finds out you're another Dispatcher in their branch, but how come he's never seen you before? As if a flip has been switched, he begins to notice you every time now.
He gets distracted when he hears your voice cutting through the channel, providing him assistance whenever his program needs it.
He always bumps into you during morning coffee runs, almost spilling his coffee on you one too many times. Or vice versa.
The two of you are the only ones ending the shifts late, and he purposefully slows tidying up his desk just so he could wait for you to finish.
He wonders if you were a former hero like him, and spends his free time obsessively analyzing you from across the room just to guess which one were you.
It got to the point Chase notices it, and Robert has never lived a day without his former babysitter now mentor teasing the ever life of him.
Whenever the two of you end your shifts late again, Robert waits until you're done and walks up to you with Beef in his arms. Then, he'll ask if he could walk you home, just to make sure you get home safe, and lights up when you agree—for the third time.
He brings you coffee every morning, just the way you like it. He gives you advice and spends late night conversations walking home, wanting to stretch the hours just so he could spend more time with you.
Z-team already caught on before he knew it, and every single one of them makes his life a living hell by pulling the most embarrassing things at work just to tease him.
Chase even comments about, "Next thing I know, you're gonna fucking settle down and start the fourth Robert Robertson with them." But somehow, that thought doesn't seem too bad in his mind.
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INVISIGAL
Oh, she would be the most annoying bitch in the building.
You know how cats are? Actively seek your attention, purr in delight when they get it, just to act all hissy and avoid you for the rest of the day when you spoil them too much. In the end, they'll continue coming back for more because they're so curious.
Yeah, it's like that for Visi.
She'd have this stalkerish tendencies of following you whenever you go while invisible, just to know what places you like to visit or what food you eat.
She'll leave snacks on your desk, the ones she found out while following you, but never tells you it's from her. Just watches from the corner you look around the room, confused, while she tells you to eat the fucking thing in her mind.
Following that cat-like behavior, she'll also leave you random gifts she has stolen from different shops. The exact ones that she saw you eyeing through a glass window, or heard from a conversation with another Dispatcher.
Wants to desperately talk to you, but figured you're busy with your own program so she settles on staring at you while Robert hasn't called for her yet.
The time she finally gets to talk to you was when Robert was talking to you first, and she casually slides into the conversation, ignoring Robert's baffled expression.
When you laugh at one of her jokes, Visi took that as a cue and proceeds to steal you away from Robert. Then, chaos ensues.
She begins to hover, appearing out of nowhere just to surprise you. Especially in the most inconvenient times, which happens to be her favorite. She does it one time when you're changing in the locker room, and has the audacity to laugh at your terrified expression while you're half-naked on the floor.
And god, the sex jokes. They never stop. At first she does it for shits and giggles, until she starts to drop more and more around you. To the point when you finally reciprocate it, catching her off guard and flustered for once.
Whenever you feel someone's staring at you, it's most likely Visi. Just standing there at the corner whenever you're on shift, staring and waiting, with that dark indecipherable glint in her eye.
She also does not shy away from checking you out. Continuing to do so even after you catch her and call her out. She just gives you this coy smirk and wink, before she disappears from sight.
Clings to you for the rest of her remaining free time, just chatting, yapping, and teasing. When she jokes about you taking her on a date, you agree casually. She freezes and gives you this wide-eyed stare, before vanishing yet again.
After a long day and shift, you're just about to leave the building and head home when you feel an invisible tug on your arm and see Visi manifesting there—grinning up at you.
"You still owe me that date, casanova."
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WATERBOY
Oh, the poor guy's a goner the moment he develops a crush. And he's terribly obvious with it.
I can't decide between two HCS of him. Either he's clinging to the person he likes or entirely avoiding them (much like in my waterboy fanfic), but for now let's HC him as both.
During his time as a janitor, he'll avoid you at all costs. Because he thinks you're way out of his league, and he's just a nobody cleaning after everyone's mess. But what made him like you instantly was your politeness.
Even when it was his job to clean up, you always made sure to tidy around a bit to save him some trouble. He'll approach you, shaking and nervous, telling you how you didn't need to do that and you shouldn't bother with it.
Instead of disregarding him, you just gave him a soft smile and told him you didn't mind. "I've seen you working hard around here, you deserve some help too. And in case no one has told you yet, thank you."
Oh, heart eyes behind his goggles. Next to Robert, you're the second person to acknowledge him with kindness and patience. It's the bare minimum, but after a long time of enduring bullying, being taken for granted, and not being recognized—it was like a beacon of hope.
He asks the first person he trusts for advice, Robert, about how to have more confidence and not make a fool of himself around you. But even after receiving a few advice, Waterboy still cannot work up the courage to talk to you.
It's only after Robert chose him to be a part of the Z-team when Waterboy builds a little more confidence in himself. Maybe because the others have been a bad influence on him, but he sees it as a good thing.
The next time he talks to you, he doesn't stutter as much. He still gets nervous, terribly nervous, but somehow your comforting energy calms him. He doesn't see any malice or judgement in your eyes, you welcome his presence whenever you're eating in the break room.
He also greatly admires your skills as a Dispatcher, being one of the top programs in the branch, and he sometimes wonder how it's like working under you.
And– And not in that way. Maybe.
With his newfound confidence, he's able to initiate more conversations with you. He'll show you pictures of his grandma's cats, bond over your similar interests, and hang around the break room during your free time.
He buys you your favorite snacks and leaves little sentimental notes on your desk. As well as gifts that reminded him of you.
He won't hesitate to clean your desk up, even when you tell him you're perfectly capable of doing it, he still takes the initiative. Not because it's his job, but because he wants to reciprocate the kindness you've given him.
And the entire team is either supportive or disgusted (affectionately) whenever you pass by and greet him with a smile, because this man will turn into a puddle—staring after you dazedly as he waves back with the dreamiest smile you'll ever see him wear.
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FLAMBAE
This guy. God, this guy becomes unbearable.
You know those kinds of people who'll take any and every opportunity to show off in front of their crushes? Yeah, Flambae will absolutely do the most just to get you to notice him.
At first he doesn't notice you. Why would he? He doesn't have the time for others, especially when they're not anywhere near his level.
But then the team goes out for drinks one night, when he sees you there at the bar—still donned in your SDN uniform like Robert—and he gapes in shock because, woah, how come he's never seen you before? Surely, he would've noticed a pretty face like yours around the place.
After downing a shot, he makes his way over—suave, sure of himself, and totally ignoring his team exchanging cash behind him—and slides beside you.
"New around here?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. "Pretty sure I would've seen someone like you before, cuz you're very easy on the eyes. Mind If I buy you a drink, hot stuff?"
He only receives an eye roll, before you grab your drink and smile at him. "Already bought myself one. Try again next time." Then, you slip away towards your booth, leaving him bewildered.
He's not even focused on Prism cheering loudly with cash in hand or Malevola groaning in disappointment in the background, because in his head, the game's only just begun. Oh, it's on.
He immediately locks in on you the moment he sees you at work, headset on your shoulders in that ugly blue uniform that you somehow pull off.
And the show begins. He unironically flexes his muscles every time you pass by, not even sparing him a glance. He stops by your cubicle to strike up a conversation, but it's more like him bragging about his recent missions and how awesome he is, to which you'll always sigh.
Sometimes, he'll ignore Robert's direct orders to stay focused on the mission. Because he'll see you walking around Torrance on your day off, and immediately flies after you. Much to your dismay. At least he became useful carrying all your grocery bags back to your apartment.
It doesn't stop there. If anything, he takes it up a notch and personally asks you out for drinks. Once, twice, until three times isn't enough, and the fourth time involves him dropping off a pack of tacos on your desk—still no luck.
The fifth was when he sees you entering the elevator, and he swiftly slips past the doors just before they shut. The moment you make eye contact, he grins while you sigh again.
"So," He pants, slicks his hair back. "That date? Gonna give me a chance? I promise you, it's gonna be great! Because you're gonna be with me. And I'll make sure it's gonna be awesome."
He expects another rejection, he wouldn't mind trying for a sixth time, but then you sigh again and smile at him. "You know what? Sure, why not? But if it sucks, I'm gonna report you to HR."
Fuck yeah.
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PRISM
One thing about Prism, she likes to shine and let others watch her shine. She'll absolutely let you know if she likes you.
But I feel like she wouldn't approach you at first, she's the type to let others do the first move. She's a popstar after all, not a fan. The others should be the ones approaching her.
And that's what you did. In the break room, she sees you standing at the entrance and feels your stare. Normally, she'll let the moment pass and ignore it. After all, she's used to fans and shit.
But that changes when you approach her, and you reveal that you've been listening to her music recently. Especially during writing up reports late at night. Not as a fan praising their idol, but as a genuine compliment from another person.
And wait, you're actually cute up close. She might just be interested in you after that.
Somehow, after that encounter, Prism starts opening up to you. She'll show up in the office, and starts calling you pet names in front of everyone. Her favorite one is baby, because she enjoys the look of shock and the tiny blush on your face.
Gives you special treatment than her actual fans, makes you listen to her unreleased drafts, and even takes candid photos of you whenever you're busy.
She even starts decorating her vape with embezzled jewels with your initials, thinks it's cool and shows it to you.
She even tweets cryptic things on her page like "god my baby's so cute" "y'all ever wanna drop to your knees and worship a god? not religious, but i might!" or even "looks like I have a new type ;))"
Watch her fans go crazy and try to come up with theories who she's referring to. A whole investigator level type of shit that absolutely amuses her. But really, she only has one target audience. And that's you.
She starts taking more pics of you, actually good ones that compliment your features, and even poses with your face out of the frame to post it. Just to see her fans go wild. She then asks you for your number to send them—smooth, casual, and a total score for her.
You give it to her, and she's immediately spamming you with your pics later that night. Her pics. Song recommendations. Show recommendations. As well as places while following with a "wouldn't it be nice to go here for a date?" message after.
She's not exactly subtle in work either. Blows a kiss in your direction, lets her touch linger on your arm, your shoulder, and back when she's passing. She becomes bolder, wilder, and she's not stopping until she gets what she wants.
Late at night, she's glued to her phone again—scrolling through tweets and current trends—when she sees your contact name (my baby) and opens it to see your message replying to the place she sent for a date idea.
She only laughs and maybe even melts a little when she sees your message, "how about I take you out there sometime?"
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PUNCH UP
His recent break up with Coupé left him considering his romantic preferences afterwards. Not that the relationship was bad, but they were both villains at that time, so it really didn't last long.
For a while, he's not really interested in another relationship. That is until he met you. And shite, he understands why they call it love at first sight.
The first time he sees you is during a conference meeting with the Z-team. You enter the room to call for Blonde Blazer, and Punch Up's jaw literally drops and his eyes widens comically at the sight of you.
He remembers sitting up straighter, trying to appear taller, and fiddles with his mustaches while he sneaks glances in your direction.
On the outside, he appears confident and sure if himself. But deep inside him, he's conscious that someone like you wouldn't be interested in him. Hell, he already expects a rejection.
If only his powers didn't fucking make him shrink to this size, he would've been more forward in courting you. Plus, he figures you wouldn't want to be with someone half your fucking height.
Still, Punch Up can't help but puff up his chest or slick his hair back whenever you cross paths. He'll even compliment you on your work, to which you're surprised at, but you'd smile down at him in gratitude.
That gave him an inkling of hope, you didn't look at him weirdly or find his approach off-putting, so he decides to take a step further.
Starts leaving flowers on your desk. Gives you random compliments and encouragement just in case you need a boost in morale. Brings you coffee—bittersweet and light—when he notices you looking down after a shift.
Totally becomes a gentleman to make up for his lack of height, but the latter part didn't seem to bother you at all. You always thank him with a warm smile that never fails to heat his cheeks and make him feel all giddy.
Like Waterboy, heart eyes every time he sees you. Visibly melts when you smile at him. Grins so wide whenever you make a joke or laugh at his. He quickly becomes your cheerleader and hype man, providing both encouragement and comfort.
He jokingly suggests he could give you some massage after seeing you rolling your shoulders around, lightly bragging about his firm touch and expertise, and is totally shocked when you agree.
Yeah, he's spending the whole time grinning so wide while he's giving you back massage in the break room. Also, glares at everyone who enters and gives him a weird look.
You make him feel like he's normal, like he doesn't need to prove anything just because he's lacking in certain areas. You treat him just the same as everyone, and he actually thinks you're perfect.
He will absolutely do anything to protect you. He may not be the brightest, but hurting you is the last thing on his mind.
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COUPÉ
Contrary to popular belief, Coupé is an absolute flirt—genuinely trying or not—and she has no problem using her charm on everyone. Proven and tested on Sonar and Punch Up. Robert too, if you include that time in Crypto Night.
The first time she sees you in the office, her eyes gleams dangerously like the knives tucked into her wings. You're not even doing anything remotely interesting, but something about you triggers her fascination.
And if you knew Coupé, then that would be a dangerous thing to develop.
Starts gathering more information about you, using her skills as an assassin to remain undetected. And like the crime in her profile, she's a stalker. But then again, that's part of the whole package.
Once she has eyes on something, or someone, she develops an unhealthy fixation on them. Spends so much time lurking, eavesdropping, and stalking just to find more details about you and your life.
She doesn't even know why she became so entranced by you, but all she knew was whoever dares to approach you, they'll have to answer to her.
Okay, yeah. I'm picking up on slight yandere tendencies to her. Something about her screams obsession at first sight, and as an assassin, she never stops until she captures her target.
Or in this case, you.
She memorizes your routine outside SDN, your work and personal schedule, every time you clock in and out of the office. Then, she uses all her gathered information to her advantage.
Meaning, she'll weaponize them into getting your attention.
Going back to the first bullet, she'll use her charm to disarm you the next time you go out for drinks. She's always one step ahead of you, already there in every corner you turn, just so she can make sure her existence is branded into your mind.
Then, after introductions that's where she'll flirt. Gets touchy immediately after a couple of words exchanged. Lightly plays with your hair, strokes your jaw, whispers low in your ear.
An absolute tease once you get close to her. Or rather, once she gets close to you. She always keeps her gaze on you from every corner of the room. Steps in immediately if she detects someone linger too close.
Hey, this might be a bit manipulative to others' taste. But it hasn't stopped her from getting what she wants. Plus, she's not doing anything illegal. She just has a terrible crush on a Dispatcher from another program.
And if you ever say no to her, she'll do whatever it takes to change your mind.
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GOLEM
Golem is a certified green flag, and I will DIE on that hill. Have you heard his voice lines when talking to the girls? Marriage material, honestly.
Okay, I'm gonna be honest, this is gonna be difficult because he literally is a construct. But we're not going past that, we're just going to stick to crushes.
Golem rarely develops any romantic interest in anyone, mostly because he knows he doesn't have any chance with them. Thinks everyone is way out of his league, and they wouldn't want someone like him.
But when it comes to you, he's SMITTEN. This man is my goat right here, he deserves so much love pls. Anyway, he literally stands still like a deer in headlights—you'd actually think he turned into a clay statue—the first time he sees you.
Canonically, he loves listening to music and poetry. So he starts hyperfixating on making playlists and poems with the thought of you. He already has a hundred songs dedicated to you, the Dispatcher from another program, and written at least thirty poems about how you look.
He REALLY wants to show you all the work he's done, but hesitates because what if you think he's being creepy?
Thankfully, maybe because of some miracle, you're the one who approached him during his break time outside the building. His usual spot is by the parking lot, where he'll just sit and listen to his newly made playlist and write poems about everything he sees.
"Whatcha listening to, big guy?"
It takes a lot to scare Golem, but the sound of your voice—soft and curious—startles him. He immediately snaps his gaze towards you, blinks, and just stares. Not saying a word. Totally starstruck as if you're top tier a superhero. Maybe you were in the past.
You apologized for scaring him, but he simply shakes his head and quietly shows you his phone. The current song he's listening to makes your eyes brighten, and he has to stop the clay on his body from physically melting.
He finds out you two have similar tastes in music, and when you ask about what he's writing, he doesn't even hesitate on showing you.
He doesn't even stop you when you get to the ones he's written about you. He later reveals how they're all about you, better get it off of his chest and move on, but he's more surprised to see you smiling.
You told him it's the first time anyone has ever written a poem about you, and he's honestly shocked by that.
Oh, one thing about poets. Once they like you, everything they do will be tied to your name.
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SONAR
God, this fucking pervert. Really, he is a pervert.
But somehow, he manages to keep himself maintained in front of you. Barely. He still likes to let his eyes linger on your body. Once. Twice. Okay, maybe lots of times.
Malevola actually hit him hard on his head after catching him drooling over and eyefucking you, and not wanting to anger her, he promises to keep himself in his best behavior.
Again, barely.
The best thing he can do is resort to his intelligence. Cuz c'mon, not to brag or anything, but he's a Harvard graduate. So, that's gotta impress you right?
Yeah, he was humbled immediately when you just stared at him and proceeded to give a thumbs up. "Cool, man. I mean, I have some friends from there as well. But we're not in touch anymore."
Just when he thinks all hope is lost, you follow up a question on what his majors were. Oh, watch him turn into the most insufferable yapper known to existence. Infodumps intensely, sticks to your side even when you're busy on the job, and just rambles.
He secretly wonders if he's bothering you or you're just accepting everything he's saying because you pity him, but you genuinely seem invested and even quip a comment every once in a while.
Okay, good. Maybe this can work out just fine. Except that his attraction towards you becomes more obvious. He squeaks more around you (a habit when he's nervous) and his ears twitch when he hears you talking, even from across the room.
He asks a lot of questions about you as well. He plays it off as mutual interest, but he desperately wants to know if he truly has a chance with you or if you're way out of his league to even bother to court.
But that's not what seals the deal. It was when he managed to make you laugh at his dry jokes the first time, and he swears it was the best day of his life.
He's actively trying not to overstep his boundaries, also asks about your interests and is genuinely thrilled to discover you have similar ones. Besides drugs and boobs, or maybe you like the second one too, but he's not gonna ask about that. Yet.
Sonar is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him well enough. But not the kind of sweet you typically see on romance stories, but the kind that annoys you at the same time.
But he means well, he's smart enough to know not to fuck this up. It might be his only chance after all. Even Malevola's constant teasing how you're way out of his league, he still continues to impress you with new things day by day.
Sonar now has three favorite things: drugs, boobs, and the new addition, you.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
MALEVOLA
Malevola, much like the other girls, can be a massive flirt if she wants.
But most of the time, it's all just for fun and it's how she normally interacts with others. If she liked them, of course. Platonically or romantically. She does it so naturally, kind of forward at times to the point that it might make others uncomfortable and she doesn't realize it. Or maybe she does, she just continues to do it for her own amusement.
So when she develops a crush on you, oh it's not gonna take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Even Sonar notices it the moment his best friend starts eyeing someone from across the room. Follows her line of sight, sees you getting up from your seat, and immediately says to himself, "Oh, they're so fucked."
"They're about to be," Malevola casually quips, winking at the bat hybrid. "Watch and learn how it's done, batman."
She proceeds to harass charm you during your free time. Literally glides the tip of her tail along the length of your leg as you walk by, startling you completely, before she boldly pins you to the wall and grins deviously at you. "Hey there, cutie. Didn't catch your name before. Mind throwing it?"
All she received was a shocked and scandalized look from you, before you slipped under her arm and walked away—continuing your day as if nothing happened. And the whole time, Sonar was hiding his giggles while recording the whole thing. "Holy shit, that was fucking bad. They're so not impressed, Mal."
But for the demon? That's nothing but a challenge. She just grins wider and crosses her arms. "Playing hard to get, huh? My kinda game."
Now you got yourself a literal demon warrior harassing flirting with you wherever you go. If you think Flambae was extra, this woman is much worse. Pops out of nowhere through her portal and surprises you. Gets really touchy when you're in the break room, arm around your shoulder and leaning so close to your face. Her voice lowers, thickens, and drips with suggestion every time she talks to you.
All the while, both you and Sonar are the victims of this. Especially you. And over time, you get used to her advances, even tolerating her touches to some extent. Toss your own flirtatious remark here and there. But you still jump away when her hands start to wander lower than you'd like, causing you to glare at her and she winks at you.
"I get that your love language is physical touch, but that's straight up harassment." Sonar comments one day, to which Malevola rolls her eyes. "Aren't you like worried about getting reported?"
"I should've been reported already," She retorts, shrugging. "But I wasn't. Something tells me they're interested too."
But for your sake, Malevola downplays all her advances to friendly pats and light flirtation. She's not worried for herself, but she's worried about your reputation. Something she didn't take into consideration at first. So, for the next following days, she keeps her hands to herself and refrains from making you too uncomfortable
In front of everyone, she turns into a saint. Addresses you politely, never lets her eyes linger for a second too long, and doesn't approach you as much as she used to before. Sonar is not the only one confused, even you are baffled at the sudden change. She treats you like you're mere acquaintances, nothing more, and she notices the way your eyes begin to seek hers whenever she avoids yours.
However when she finally gets you alone in the elevator, she pins you to the wall again with her hands rest on your waist. "Okay, I'm done playing pretend. You want this or not?"
You raised an eyebrow at her, but not making a move to remove her hands. "We're at work. We could get into trouble."
Malevola grins down at you, hands falling lower. "We could get into trouble elsewhere then?"
This time, you don't stop her.
────────────── ★ ───────────────
BLONDE BLAZER
HR department is either nonexistent or is fucking blind to everything happening in this branch.
Because Blonde Blazer is not exactly subtle when it comes to her little (not-so-secretive) crush towards you. Hell, everyone already knows how much she likes you. How obvious she is just being around your cubicle all of the time and the lingering shoulder touches she does.
Everyone knows, except you.
And it honestly frustrates her, because she's pretty sure she's being as straightforward as she could. Asks you out for lunch or dinner outside the office during your free time. Hovers around you, literally, when you're walking home. You know, just making sure you get home safely.
Even though she knows she needs to be professional, she just can't help the nervous flutter in her chest when she's around you. You unknowingly make her feel like Mandy, and not Blazer. The way you talk to her, as if you could see past her powers and her amulet, makes her hopelessly pining after you.
Everyone else just keeps quiet, and at this point, no one bats an eye anymore. Chase even tells her to give up, Robert advises her to make her intentions known directly, but she ignores both of them because she knows she can do this.
Honestly, if she doesn't know about your past, she'll be convinced your superpower was being oblivious.
Because you honestly can't see the special treatment she's giving you. The praises and compliments that spill out of her mouth. How her voice and gaze softens when around you.
And you just accept everything like it was normal, maybe you honestly think she was being nice.
She even invites Robert for a drink, sitting on top of the billboard again, a bottle in her hand while she's venting her frustrations and he's chugging his own beer with a deadpanned expression.
Blazer with a crush is honestly just like a Golden Retriever. Hopeless, loyal to a fault, adorable yet kinda a mess. She ends up drinking Robert's beer after he offers it, then composes herself once she chucks the empty bottle into the unknown.
"Just tell them how you really feel," Robert shrugs, quite done with the whole ordeal. "What's the worse thing that can happen?"
"Rejection? Resignation? Not being able to talk to them anymore?" Okay, maybe she's a little tipsy now. But honestly, she doesn't fucking care anymore. Maybe she should stop with the whole thing, move on like she did with Phenomaman, but that was easier than this.
Robert claps her shoulder, a look of pity visible on his features. "Hey, don't take it personally. Next time, you can–"
Her phone beeps, a notification, and Blazer holds up a finger as she checks it. She almost shot up to the skies and threw her phone or Robert when she reads your message.
"Soooo, Chase filled me in with the whole thing. Says you're doing all these because you like me? Sorry for being oblivious and not catching on quick :'D"
Then, before she could type a reply, another message shows up.
"How about a date tomorrow night? My treat ;))"
────────────── ★ ───────────────
ROYD
Now, Royd is two things: a gearhead and a science nerd. But even with these super awesome traits, he has zero clue how to work on feelings.
He has people taking interest in him before here and there, but again, he's a gearhead and a science nerd. He's not too focused on all those lovey dovey things.
At least that's what he thought before he met you.
You're a Dispatcher, a damn good one at that, and he can't help but admire you and how you run your program.
Unlike with everyone else, he acts super clumsy around you. Doesn't even realize he's fumbling his words when he's talking to you, totally thinks he's doing well however.
As a gearhead, he'll craft you up some gadget that he thinks can help you with your dispatches. Others are confused why you suddenly have this advanced headset (lowkey jealous).
A very hands-on person, Royd will definitely be an acts of service kind of guy. Opens the door for you, fixes up things you don't even need to fix, brings you down to his lab as an excuse he needs your help.
But in reality, he just wants to impress you with his work. You just sit there in the corner, watching him in his element, and flushes whenever you compliment him.
Also, absolutely loves it when you ask questions. About his work, his inventions, his tools. Everything. He just wants to share a piece of his life with you—kind of like a silent invitation for you to accept him.
Even though he doesn't have much idea on how romance works, he's genuinely sweet and thoughtful that it's so natural for him.
You might mistake it as a mere act of kindness however, and he's bummed out when he realizes. Turns to Robert for advice, and will absolutely try to discreetly keep your identity hidden while he explains his dilemma.
Only for Robert to clock him and say your name, "Just ask them out. You've known each other for a while. They've been here longer than I am. Trust me, it's better to take the risk than to lose the chance."
"You think I should?" Royd asks, distracting himself with a part of Robert's suit.
"You definitely should. You never know, they might like you back."
That comforts and inspires Royd, and he immediately thinks of an idea how to ask you out.
The next time he requests your "help" down his lab again, you arrive there shortly and see something you never expect to see.
A holographic image of you, along with the following words gleaming below. "You don't make me feel like a gearhead or a science nerd. You make me feel special, but not as special as you are."
────────────── ★ ───────────────
PHENOMAMAN
After his break-up with Blonde Blazer, Phenomaman believes he won't find another one like her.
One as charming, dedicated, admirable, and fiercely empowering. Someone who can keep up with his strength and match it just the same. And that thought causes him to lose motivation.
He's sure he won't find someone else. Maybe not on this planet. No one will compare to her.
But suddenly, you came into the picture. Simple, normal, and completely fragile looking compared to him. Just honestly speaking, he thinks you're physically weaker just because you're human and smaller than him. Though not in a bad way.
But he comes to find that not all strengths to be admired should only be from physical traits or impressive feats.
Sometimes, a human's strength is through their compassion and drive. Seeing you so passionate in guiding your team during dispatch has him reflecting on his preferences. He doesn't normally become attracted to individuals like you, but something about your dedication to your work inspires him.
He starts to become more curious.
Humans, in general, fascinate him. How they interact with each other. How they share their thoughts, emotions, victories, and losses. It took him a while to adjust to this world, and it was admittedly difficult.
But after meeting you, someone who's the entire opposite of him, he becomes open to expanding his perspective.
What do humans call it? A crush? Not physically crushing like how he does with his enemies, but the one they refer to as this fluttery thing in their stomach.
He gets that around you, has zero clue why, but he had never felt it before. Not even around Blazer. He greatly admires his past lover, but maybe that was the reason for their separation. There was a lack of the fluttery feeling in his stomach.
Just pure admiration as an equal and a partner.
So, he begins to hover around you. Trailing behind everywhere you go like a curious puppy. You didn't seem to mind his presence. In fact, you humor him every time and joke about him being your personal guard dog.
He doesn't think he is, but if you are in need of protection, then he won't hesitate to provide you some. He also gives you some of his edible arrangements as a token of his fascination, and he feels the fluttery feeling intensify when you smile at him.
You're the first person to let him feel anything else other than being a superhero.
SUMMARY: Sonar has been obsessed with you since you started at SDN. Unfortunately, every attempt to talk to you ends in disaster.
WARNINGS: sonar has no game, brief mentions of drugs and alcohol
WORD COUNT: 5.6k
READ ON AO3
Victor knows his weaknesses, just as any enhanced individual should.
He's shit at writing, which he supposes is only fair considering he can run quantitative risk assessments and arbitrage calculations in his head faster than most people can boot up Excel. The universe couldn't make him completely perfect—though it got pretty damn close.
On occasion, Victor is also willing to admit he has issues with moderation, if the logged hours in his Steam library are anything to go off of. A lack of self-control, maybe. Though he prefers to think of it as commitment to mastery.
He also talks faster than he thinks sometimes—a fascinating flaw, really, considering his processing speed is roughly 40% faster than the average human's, and his IQ sits comfortably at 140, even compared to his fellow Harvard graduates.
He's reminded of this particular weakness whenever he's banned from voice or text chats in his games, where one too many creative insults about the opposing team's mothers slip out before his brain catches up to his mouth.
And there's also the whole cocaine thing. But that's not important. He's working on it. Malevola makes sure of that.
His greatest weakness, though, walked into his life a month ago.
Specifically, when you began working at SDN.
It was love at first sight. At least for him, because you hadn't even looked at him as you walked by, following Blonde Blazer as she animatedly introduced you to the dispatchers you'd be shadowing.
A few seconds was all Victor needed to know he was fucked.
He paid more attention in the weeks that followed. He gathered intelligence: not only were you hot—like, objectively, scientifically attractive—but you were funny. More than funny. Hilarious, actually. At times, he found himself coughing to cover up his laugh after he'd eavesdrop on your conversations. Not entirely creepy, because he only did it when you were in the break room or the conference room, and he considered those public spaces. Natural ground. It wasn't his fault he had exceptional hearing.
His crush has only grown since then, metastasizing into something he can't quite control.
There are times he's convinced you're secretly enhanced, some kind of undercover operative. It's the only explanation, really—maybe you're a temptress, a succubus, some lust manipulator with pheromone control. Because without fail, you turn him to putty. He has to readjust himself in his dress pants whenever you walk past, because your perfume wraps itself around his veins and tugs the flow of his blood straight to his dick like a leash.
Malevola had laughed herself sick one evening when she'd noticed, telling him he was "down catastrophic" for someone he didn't even have the guts to talk to. She'd shared the observation with Z-team too, and when Prism caught him adjusting himself during a mission briefing, they'd called him a perv loud enough for half the room to hear.
You'd earned the nickname Medusa after that, because Malevola found it hilarious that you managed to turn him rock-hard just by existing in his line of sight.
Victor had thrown a pen at her head. She'd caught it without looking and threw it back five times as hard.
Standing in the hallway, Victor rises to attention as you walk toward him, following the usual path to your desk. He adjusts his tie, tuning out Malevola's conversation, and steels himself mentally.
"I'm gonna go talk to her."
Malevola glances up. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna say?"
"Something good. Get her interested. Leave her thinking."
Malevola scowls. "Please don't mention your crypto portfolio."
"Why would I mention my crypto portfolio?"
"Because you mentioned it to the last three people you tried to talk to."
"I was networking!"
"You were being insufferable."
Victor sneers at her, half annoyed, half embarrassed. "Whatever. Watch and learn."
He tightens his tie and steps in front of you, halting you in place.
"Oh," you say, blinking. "Hi, Sonar."
You offer him a smile—polite, gentle. Good sign.
"Hey," he grins. "How's it going?"
"It's... going good, I guess. Just a regular Monday."
He nods. "Right. Cool. So, uh, I noticed you take like three sugars in your coffee."
Okay, good start. Observational. Shows he pays attention.
"...Okay?"
"That's cool. I mean, that's a lot of sugar but like, you do you. I usually go for two max." Wait, that sounds judgmental. "Not that three is bad! Three is good. Sweet tooth, that's chill."
Your smile is getting tighter. "Thanks?"
"Yeah, no problem." He shoves his hands into his pants pockets. "So hey, I've been looking at the mission numbers. You're doing pretty well. Like, way above average. If you ever want any tips on dispatch strategies or whatever, I could totally help you out."
"I... you're not a dispatcher. I am."
"Right, yeah, I know that. I just meant like, general efficiency stuff. I'm really good at that kind of thing. Optimization, time management, all that." He's nailing this. "Actually, I used to run this whole investment operation and—"
"The fraud thing?"
"—it was very successful. Financially. Before the legal issues." Okay, maybe don't bring up the crimes. "But like, I learned a lot about managing systems and people and—"
"That's great, Sonar, but I really should get back to work."
"Oh yeah, totally. I get it, you're busy. Respect the grind." He nods. "But hey, if you ever want to grab coffee and talk shop or whatever, I know this place that has really good espresso. Well, decent espresso. It's acceptable espresso but the vibe is nice."
"I'll... keep that in mind." You slip past him, the tight, nervous smile still on your face. Maybe you're nervous because you like him too. Score.
"Cool, cool. See you around!"
You give a little wave without really looking at him and speed-walk toward your desk.
Victor turns back to Malevola with a grin. "Dude, I think she's into me."
Malevola stares at him, mouth agape, the corners of her lips turned down.
"What?" he asks.
"I don't think so. She literally ran away from you."
"No she didn't. She walked. Quickly. Because she's busy and dedicated to her job. That's attractive, actually." He feels good about this. That went well. "She smiled at me."
"That wasn't a smile. It was a grimace. I felt like I was watching a hostage negotiation."
"You're being dramatic." He loosens his tie a bit, feeling accomplished. "I was smooth. I gave her an out by mentioning coffee, showed off my skills without being too much about it—"
"You told her about your fraud charges."
"I was being honest. Chicks dig honesty."
Malevola sighs. "Sonar—"
"You're wrong," he says, cutting her off. "I know what I'm doing, okay? I've got this. Tomorrow I'll try again. Maybe I'll tell her about that time I made 100k in a month. That's impressive."
"Please don't."
"Or maybe I'll ask about her interests. Show I care about her as a person."
"That one. Do that one."
"And then tell her about the 100k."
"Sonar, I'm begging you—"
But he isn't really listening anymore. He's already planning his next move, thinking about what to say, how to stand, when to catch you again.
He's got this. He's good at this.
Victor's eyes track you through the open break room door.
"What are you staring at?"
Victor flinches at Malevola's voice, straightening himself in his seat. "Huh? I'm not staring at anything."
"Uh-huh." She follows his gaze and sighs, turning back to him with a pitiful expression. "Please don't tell me this is why you wanted to take break at 2:15 instead of 3."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Malevola groans. "It is, isn't it? You figured out her schedule? Dude, that's so creepy."
"It's not creepy. It's called pattern recognition. That's a skill."
"Technically, so is stalking."
Victor glares at her but doesn't reply, his white eyes flickering to where you stand as he registers movement. You're wrapping up your conversation now, waving goodbye to another dispatcher. James, maybe. Something with a J. Victor sits up straighter without meaning to.
"Oh, she's coming in," Malevola says, grinning. "You gonna talk to her this time?"
He frowns. "What are you talking about? I talked to her last week."
"Whatever that disaster was, was not talking."
Victor's expression flattens to unamused. You're approaching the threshold of the break room now. He can already smell your perfume. "Okay. I'm doing this."
"You're doing this," Malevola echoes.
"Yup." He stands. "Gonna be casual. Relaxed. Normal."
"Three words that have never been used to describe you."
He glares at Malevola again, but she only raises a brow, the corners of her lips quirking upward. Despite her amusement, there's an encouraging gleam in her expression that Victor recognizes. He matches it with a confident nod, fixes his tie, checks his cuffs, and makes his way to where you stand at the counter.
The break room isn't large by any means, but he feels as if he's been walking for a long time. He can feel Malevola's gaze following his movements. Good. Witnesses to his success are important. This time is going to be a win. He can feel it.
You're making coffee. Perfect. He's got this.
He opens his mouth as he finally reaches you, winding up one of his practiced conversation starters, but stills as you put in headphones.
Shit.
He looks back at Malevola. She's watching with barely contained glee, making a "go on" gesture with her hands.
Okay. Okay, he can work with this. He'll just... wait until you turn around. It gives him some time to prepare, anyway. A few seconds can be priceless to a man if he knows how to use them right.
A few moments pass, but you have yet to acknowledge his presence. Or anything besides your coffee making, really. Which, now that Victor's thinking about it, is concerning. How have you not been mugged?
You're adding sugar—one, two, three packets, as usual—and he should probably say something or clear his throat or do literally anything besides hover like a creep, but his brain has completely blanked.
You're stirring now. Any second you'll turn around and he'll say something smooth and—
He's made a miscalculation.
Grabbing your mug, you step backward—and walk directly into his chest.
You gasp, spinning around. The coffee in your cup jumps, sloshing over the rim and splashing across your hand, your wrist. Drops hit your shirt, your pants. Your headphones catch and pull free from your ears.
"Shit!" you hiss, jerking your hand back. Coffee drips onto the floor between you.
Victor's frozen, staring at the spreading stain on your shirt, at your reddening hand. At least the break room coffee is never really hot. Perpetually room temperature, in fact. "I—"
"Jesus Christ, Sonar!" You set the mug down hard on the counter, shaking out your hand. "How long have you been standing there?"
"I wasn't—I just—" His mouth is moving but nothing useful is coming out. "Maybe thirty seconds? I was waiting for you to turn around because you had headphones in and I didn't want to—"
"So you just stood behind me?" You grab napkins from the dispenser, pressing them against your shirt. The coffee's already seeping through. "Silently?"
"I didn't want to startle you—"
"Well, congratulations. You failed." You're dabbing at the stain, movements sharp and frustrated. More napkins. The coffee isn't coming out. "God damn it."
"I can help—"
"It's fine."
"Let me get you paper towels, or—"
"It's fine, Sonar." You crumple the napkins in your fist and toss them in the trash. When you look at him, your expression is carefully neutral. Painfully polite. "I have an extra shirt in my locker. I need to go change."
"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"I know." You're already moving past him, toward the door. "It's fine. Just... an accident."
But the way you say it doesn't sound like you think it's fine at all.
Victor watches you leave, your coffee-stained shirt disappearing around the corner, and something in his chest sinks.
The break room is quiet. Too quiet.
He turns slowly, meeting Malevola's gaze.
"Don't," Victor says.
"I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking it loud enough."
Victor's tried four more times since the coffee incident.
Each interaction has been uniquely catastrophic in ways he didn't think were possible. There was the time he tried to hold the elevator for you and accidentally hit the emergency stop button instead, trapping you both for twenty minutes while you made increasingly uncomfortable small talk and he sweated through his shirt.
He followed that disappointment a few days later when he brought you coffee from an overpriced cafe as an apology (three sugars, he remembered) but had accidentally grabbed another order instead—black, no sugar—and watched you take a sip and immediately wince.
Then there was the time he tried to compliment your new haircut but instead said you looked "different" in a tone that implied he meant it negatively.
And finally, there was yesterday, when he'd attempted to help you carry a box of files and had somehow managed to trip over absolutely nothing, sending papers exploding across the hallway like the world's most pathetic confetti cannon.
The Z-team has been having a field day. He's even seen money exchanging hands in the break room. Malevola claims she's been betting in his favor, but her recent vinyl purchases suggest a very different story.
By this point, Victor's half-expecting a restraining order. Or at minimum, a very awkward meeting with Robert to discuss workplace boundaries and what constitutes harassment.
He's given up. Officially. He's waving the white flag.
Which is why he's at Gracie's on a Saturday night, letting the terrible DJ and even worse drink specials wash over him in waves of aggressive mediocrity.
The music is too loud. The bass is making his head throb—enhanced hearing is a blessing until it very much isn't—and some drunk girl just spilled her vodka cranberry on his shoe.
He needs air.
Victor pushes through the crowd toward the back exit, shouldering past a group doing shots and a couple making out against the wall. Lucky them.
Reaching the door to the patio area, he shoves it open and steps outside.
And freezes instantly.
You're sitting on a picnic table that's been shoved up against the brick exterior wall, perched on the top with your feet on the actual seat, scrolling through your phone. The string lights overhead cast everything in warm amber.
Oh fuck.
Victor immediately pivots, turns on his heel, fully prepared to march right back into the bass-thumping hellscape he just escaped because this—this looks like stalking. This looks like he planned this. This looks like—
The door slams open into his face.
"Shiiiiiit, dude, my bad!"
A drunk guy stumbles past him, hand briefly patting Victor's shoulder in apology before he makes a beeline for the porta-potties in the corner of the patio.
Victor's holding his temple, white eyes squeezed shut against the sharp pain.
"Sonar?"
He opens his eyes and turns around. You're looking at him now, phone lowered, expression unreadable.
"Oh, heyy." His voice comes out pained. "Didn’t see you there. What’s up?”
He genuinely considers willing himself to transform and flying away, dignity be damned.
You lock your phone. Drop it in your lap. "Are you stalking me?"
Victor's eyes go wide. His hands come up immediately, waving emphatically. "No, no. I swear, I didn't know you'd be here—"
A smile breaks across your face within seconds, your laughter following suit. Bubbly and amused and completely unexpected. "I'm just fucking with you. Everyone and their fuckin' mom comes to Gracie's on a Saturday, apparently. Dunno what the fuck that's about."
The word 'fuck' sounds strange coming from you. Wrong, but in a way that makes his body heat with warmth he's not entirely prepared for. He's seeing you in a completely new light now as he slowly walks closer: gone is the corporate demeanor, the professional distance.
You, his Medusa, are a potty mouth.
In a way that's much more endearing than when Chase does it.
Victor realizes he's been quiet for a few seconds too long. "Yeah," he manages. "What the fuck is that about?"
The grin on your face widens as you tilt your head, examining him. Instinctively, Victor stands straighter, hoping it radiates an attractive aura of confidence rather than the barely-restrained awkwardness he's actually feeling.
"Can I join you?" He points to the space next to you.
You glance at it, then back at him. Nod. "Make yourself comfortable."
"Cool."
He climbs up, settling beside you. Not too close—that would be creepy, invasive, weird. But not too far either—that would be offensive, like he thinks you have a disease or something. Just in case. He scoots a little to the left. Then back to the right.
You don't comment on his musical chairs routine, which he takes as a win.
Now that he's closer, he can see the slight tint in your cheeks, the looseness in your posture that speaks of a few drinks in your system. Which might explain the casual swearing—and the fact that you didn't pretend not to know him entirely.
The drunk guy exits the porta-potty, stumbling slightly as he heads back inside. A few girls immediately take his place, their loud laughter cutting through the muffled bass still thumping from inside the bar. Victor grimaces at the sound of one of them vomiting into the open toilet.
Classy establishment, this.
You're looking down at your lap now, twirling your phone between your fingers. Nosily, Victor tries to peek at your lockscreen, see what hints it might give about your life outside of dispatching. But he's met with nothing. Just the black, smooth coating of a privacy screen protector.
Smart.
He's half-tempted to pull out his own phone just to give himself something to do besides aimlessly bounce his knee. But that would be rude. And you haven't unlocked your phone either, which feels like a sign. This is his chance. His shot at redemption. To make up for the elevator incident and the coffee mix-up and the box of papers and every other disaster that's led to this moment.
He sorts through the thoughts in his mind, watching dialogue options flash across his consciousness like some shitty dating sim.
"Can you—" You grimace slightly, glancing at him. "Could you stop that? Maybe?"
Victor blinks, head whipping to the side. You're pointing at his knee, your gaze bouncing between his face and the traitorous limb that's been bouncing hard enough to shake the whole bench.
"Oh, yeah. For sure. My bad."
He clears his throat, placing his palm flat on his knee. The movement slows, but he can still feel the muscles twitching under his hand, restless energy with nowhere to go. He knew those lines in the bathroom were a mistake. Victor opts for a better solution, leaning forward to brace both forearms on his thighs, using his weight to settle the spasms.
Silence settles between you again. You're humming under your breath, and without looking directly at you, he can hear the rustle of fabric as you sway subtly to the music bleeding through the walls. The vibrations meet his eardrums, bass-heavy and relentless.
He steals a few glances at you. After the third, his gaze settles on the side of your face, taking in your profile. The shape of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the way the string lights catch in your hair.
Conversation. He needs to make conversation. He's alone with you, and you haven't skittered away from his presence like every other time. This is it. Say something. Anything. Something to engage you, make you like him—
"You want some coke?"
Your eyes lock on his as you turn to look at him, brows furrowed and mouth slightly parted.
"I have some. In case you do."
You're still staring. Your mouth parts even further, but he can see the corners of your lips beginning to turn upward.
"Or not. That's totally cool. You don't have to. I just thought I'd offer because we're both here and—"
Finally, you break your silence with a laugh, your shoulders shaking with it. "You know SDN drug tests, right?"
If Victor had a human face, he's sure it would've been drained entirely of color. He sits ramrod straight, leaning further into your space without meaning to. "What? They do?"
Pressing your lips together, you give him a tight nod.
His face falls. He looks forward blankly, speedrunning the image of unemployment in his mind—fired for a failed drug test of all things, after everything he's survived, after clawing his way back from federal charges and—
Then his ears twitch, picking up another sound leaving your lips. Another fit of laughter.
He turns to face you once more.
"I'm just fucking with you again," you say, curling into yourself as your laughter settles into something softer. "Oh my god, your face."
"So not cool," Victor says, but he's fighting back a chuckle of his own. "My life just flashed before my eyes."
"Oh, I saw it." You bite back a smile. "Don't worry. If we started drug testing, I think we'd fire half the staff." You give him a pointed look. "You guys love your drugs."
You're teasing him. This is a win. He's winning. Victor clears his throat, hoping to play it cool.
"And I was still willing to share."
"Oh, how charitable of you."
You're looking at him through your lashes now, your head slightly lolled to the side. You look... so hot. He's fighting the urge to inhale your scent like a rabid dog. He's more refined than that. More dignified.
"I'm actually very charitable," he says, nodding seriously.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Not to brag or anything."
"Seems like you're super humble, too."
He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "Totally."
His response earns him another laugh. He's racking up wins tonight, each one more improbable than the last. Finally.
You shift slightly, curling in on yourself, arms wrapping around your middle. It's not really cold outside, but he sees an opening. A chance. Every romance movie he's ever secretly watched while high has prepared him for this moment.
Victor shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders in one smooth motion.
You jump slightly, startled, but then you realize what he's doing and soften into it, pulling the fabric closer around yourself.
"Oh," you say quietly. "Thank you."
And he swears—he fucking swears—you run your gaze over him. Over the white dress shirt, over the loosened tie at his collar, lingering just a second too long. You're checking him out. Holy shit, you're actually checking him out.
"No problem." He's trying not to grin too wide.
You settle back into your sitting position, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders like a claim, and Victor has to resist the urge to fist-pump right there.
"I'm—I'm sorry that I brush you off at work."
Victor raises a brow, surprised. He wasn't expecting an apology. Wasn't expecting you to acknowledge any of it.
"I have this anti-superhero policy," you continue, not quite meeting his eyes. "For flirting, or whatever. A lot of you guys are just so stuck up, you know? Full of yourselves. And I thought—" You pause, picking at your nails. "I thought you were messing with me for some weird entertainment. Because the Z-team is always laughing whenever you try to talk to me."
You guys. You consider him a proper superhero.
"They were laughing at me," Victor says quickly. "Not you. Totally not you." He runs a hand over his head, over the smooth fur there. "They were laughing because I kept messing it up. Every single time."
"I realize that now," you murmur softly.
Victor opens his mouth to say something else—something smooth—but you make a small sound of discomfort, dropping your head down as you run a hand across your temple.
"I think I should go get some water."
You're starting to move, preparing to haul yourself up from the table, but Victor stands quickly—too quickly—and nearly stumbles when his foot catches on the ledge of the bench.
"No," he says, then clears his throat, smoothing his voice into something more casual. "I mean, you stay here. I'll go."
"Are you sure?" You're looking up at him with furrowed brows, readjusting his jacket across your shoulders.
White eyes track the movement, and his heart beats faster at the image of you in his coat. It skips, unhappily, at the thought of you taking it off in favor of going back inside—at the image of losing you to a crowd.
He nods, probably too quick. "For sure. You just—you stay here. Don't move."
His hands raise to emphasize his point, and thankfully, you bite back a laugh at the motion. "Okayyy."
Victor nods again, smiling, then starts backing toward the door. He glances back once, twice, making sure you haven't moved. You wave at him, amused, and he nearly walks into the doorframe before catching himself.
Smooth. Real smooth.
He opens the door casually, steps inside—
And then he's running.
Waters acquired, he heads back, walking quickly but not running this time. Playing it cool. He's got this.
He pushes the door open with his shoulder—
And immediately registers that something is wrong.
You're standing now, backed up against the picnic table. There's a guy in front of you. Too close. Your arms are crossed, body language screaming discomfort.
"—just being friendly," the guy is saying, his words slurred. "Why you gotta be such a bitch about it?"
Victor's jaw clenches.
"Wow, I'm swooning," you say, annoyed. "Leave me alone, dick."
Victor steps forward, waters still in hand. "She’s not interested."
The guy turns, taking in Victor with bleary eyes. Scoffs. "Nobody's talking to your recalled beanie baby ass."
Victor's mouth falls open slightly. Recalled beanie baby? Now he's pissed.
"Fuck you, man."
The guy laughs, turning back to you. "What, this your boyfriend or something?"
"Don't be a cunt," you say to the guy.
Another laugh, ugly and mean. "Sure, I'll stop being one if you show me yours—"
One second, Victor's standing there, waters in hand, watching this play out.
Then the glasses in his hands shatter.
And everything goes red.
His vision tunnels. His hearing sharpens. He feels the familiar, uncontrollable surge of his body changing, growing, warping. Clothing tears. Air hits fur. His heart pounds in his chest, rapid-fire, and his breathing comes harsh and ragged through expanding lungs.
Distant thuds fill his ears: people scrambling away from the patio area, the man's heartbeat kicking into overdrive, terror-sharp.
And yours—your heart is racing too.
Victor—no, the beast now, the creature version, massive and monstrous—hunches his shoulders and bares his fangs.
He shrieks, a guttural sound of pure rage, and the guy's eyes go wide, face drained of color.
"She told you to get lost," Sonar growls, his voice distorted and deep.
The guy nods frantically, stumbling backward. "I'm—yeah, I'm going, I'm—"
He turns and runs, practically falling over himself to get back inside the bar.
Victor watches him go, head turning to track the movement. He's still breathing hard, teeth bared, arms tense and ready. The predatory satisfaction of watching a threat flee courses through him, hot and electric.
Then his gaze swings back.
And he sees you.
Wide-eyed. Mouth open. Hands tightening around his jacket.
Shit.
He transforms back in a rush, the shift happening so fast it leaves him dizzy. Fur recedes. Size shrinks. His breathing evens out.
And then he's just Victor again, standing in the middle of the patio, completely naked, glass crunched under his feet.
You're staring.
"I... kinda feel like I may have overreacted," he says.
"No—that was—" Your eyes flicker downward and widen more.
"Oh!" You turn immediately, one hand coming up to cover your eyes. "Oh my god. Your dick is out."
Victor stiffens—in multiple ways, unfortunately—and looks down.
Yup. Dick's out. He moves to cover himself with his hands.
He's not ashamed, exactly. He knows he's packing more than average. But he's also a grower in more ways than one, and this was definitely not how it went in his fantasies when you first saw him naked. He'd imagined it would be more empowering. That you'd go wide-eyed with lust and excitement, maybe bite your lip suggestively.
Not turn away and exclaim while covering your eyes. That's... not a good sign.
"Shit. Sorry. That—the clothes don't come back when I transform. Because of the whole ripping apart thing."
"Um," you say, voice muffled behind your hand. You're carefully not looking at him, which would be funny if Victor wasn't dying inside. "Here."
You take his jacket off your shoulders and hold it out blindly, arm extended.
"Thanks," Victor mutters, taking it.
He tries to figure out how to position it around his waist. The warm night breeze kisses his exposed skin.
"Can we—can we just—" He does an awkward shuffle-turn with you so his bare ass is facing the wall. "Just turn with me—yeah, like that—"
Finally, he gets the jacket positioned, holding it around himself like a towel. Roman bath-style. "Okay. Got it."
You peek through your fingers. "All good?"
He clears his throat. "Yup. Yeah. All good."
You drop your hand and turn fully to face him, holding his gaze for a long moment.
And then you're laughing, covering your face with both hands, shoulders shaking. Victor feels the tips of his ears go hot with embarrassment.
"Maybe you could not laugh in my face after seeing my penis."
You're laughing harder now, doubled over. "No, it's not that, I swear, it's—"
You press your fingers over your lips, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. "I appreciate you defending my honor."
"Anytime," Victor says, and he means it despite the circumstances.
Someone bursts through the door, yelling your name, and both of you snap your heads toward the sound.
Your friend stops in place, eyes going wide as she takes in the scene—you, Victor in nothing but a jacket-toga, broken glass everywhere.
"Uh... hello." She walks over slowly, confused but clearly intrigued. "Am I interrupting something?"
You and Victor glance at each other.
"No—uh, this is Sonar. We work together," you say quickly.
"Heyy," Victor says. He readjusts his hold on the jacket with one hand and extends the other for a handshake. "What's good?"
Your friend takes it delicately, eyebrows climbing higher. "I'm—wow. Okay." She introduces herself, then looks between you and Victor, amusement growing in her expression. She looks at you with a shit-eating grin. "Do all the hot superheroes at your job get naked for you?"
Victor sees an opening and points at her. "Only the best ones."
Your friend cackles. You cover your face again, but you're smiling.
"Well," your friend says, turning back to you, "I've been looking for you. I think we're ready to head home. That cool?"
You nod, glancing back at Victor. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
"'Kay, I'm calling the Uber." Your friend pulls out her phone and steps away, giving you two space.
You turn to Victor fully, and he holds your eye contact for as long as he can manage without combusting.
You walk toward him.
Victor stiffens—and embarrassingly, he can feel himself getting hard. He attributes it to the warm breeze and your smell flooding his nostrils and the softness of the jacket lining. Curse his excellent taste.
He tracks your movement with white eyes. When you're close enough, you go up on your toes and press a kiss to his cheek.
His brain flatlines.
You pull back, and there's a strand of hair stuck to your lip gloss.
"Oh, hair," you laugh softly, pulling it away from your mouth. "I'll…see you Monday?"
Victor's still stunned. Completely frozen. "Yeah. For sure. See you... see you Monday."
Your friend grabs your hand, tugging you toward the door. "Uber's here. Let's go."
She glances back at Victor as you both head inside. "Nice meeting you, Batman."
"It's—it's Sonar—" he calls after you, but you're already gone.
Victor stands there for a moment, alone on the patio, hand still pressed to the fur on his cheek where you kissed him.
He does a celebratory fist pump, his jacket falling to the ground. "Yes! This is what I'm talking about!"
Someone stumbles out of the porta-potty. They make eye contact. The guy freezes, taking in Victor's naked form with wide eyes.
"Celebrating a massive win," Victor explains.
The guy keeps staring.
Victor leans down slowly to grab his jacket, wrapping it back around his waist. "Aight. Night, man."
He lets his excitement bleed through his body, raising his heartbeat as he transforms—carefully holding his jacket this time—and takes off into the sky. Victor is too consumed in his success to register the small baggie that fell out of his jacket pocket and landed on the ground.
The guy from the porta-potty watches the giant bat fly away, then looks down at the baggie at his feet.
He picks it up, examines it, and grins.
Score.
thank you for reading and please lmk if you enjoyed <3 i operate entirely on positive reinforcement like a dog with treats :D
edit: i am being…persuaded for a part two…so maybe i’ll make a taglist 😽 some extra parts can be read on ao3 while i work on a proper sequel!
medic reader who is not afraid to boss around z-team, especially when they try to avoid seeing you after missions.
flambae tries to pull away when you’re resetting his arm and you give him a look that practically burns, making him sit down instantly.
robert tries to brush off a particularly nasty scratch and you practically wrestle him into med bay, choosing to ignore the flush on his face when you manhandle him like that.
malevola ignores a head wound she got and has to fight so hard not to appear flustered when you’re chewing her out for ignoring it, choosing to stare at your lips instead, which…isn’t much better.
sonar tries to get away with not caring for an ear tear he got, which leads to you practically pinning him down on the table to rewrap it, ignoring all the flirty comments he makes towards you.
z-team definitely all have a crush on you, even if they refuse to admit it.
because you’re talking about your crush one day, and you’re describing him.
not the robert that’s sitting in front of you, though. you’re talking about mecha man.
“—he’s really pretty, too, y’know? he has those soft puppy dog eyes.” you’re talking about him, robert knows that. complimenting him, even if you don’t realize it. so it’s hard not to feel a little flustered.
now you’re talking about kissing, and his face heats. it’s like a trainwreck, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. and he’s jealous, too. you’re talking about mecha man, not him, and he wants to just come out and say it—but he can’t.
so he pushes his table back, unable to stop himself from muttering “i have brown eyes too,” and leaves, his face burning and fists clenched. he doesn’t even care if you figure it out—he wants you to notice him.
you watch as robert practically storms out of the room. …weird.
Ex-VillainMedic!Reader who has healing spit. You keep it in glass vials and syringes rather than actually kissing your coworkers for professional and hygiene purposes.
Except for Waterboy, who is terrified of needles and shakes like a newborn puppy whenever he sees them. He's so scared and nervous that you almost immediately cave and promise not to use them on him, opting to press a kiss on the deep gash on his chin instead. He goes bright red and lets out a string of syllables that you assume is a "thank you," hardly able to form a sentence or even a coherent thought.
Sonar, who's also awaiting treatment in the infirmary, peeks out from the behind the curtain separating their beds, of course, witnessing the interaction. An all too smug grin crosses his face when you enter his side, and you know you're never going to hear the end of it.
"Hey, Doc. I'm pretty scared of needles too. Could you kiss it better?" He gestures to his split lower lip with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows.
When Beel asked you to join him at the gym, you expected him to put you through a grueling workout routine. It’s not that you hate going to the gym with him, he just doesn’t really understand that the average human can’t do 100 push-ups, let alone keep up with his 1000 push-ups.
You’re pleasantly surprised when you find out he has other plans for you.
“I saw this online, and I wanted to try it with you,” he says shyly. He sits down on a mat and grabs your hips, guiding you to straddle his waist. His hands linger for a moment before he lies down and folds his arms across his chest.
He does a few sit-ups, but pauses after the fourth.
“Uhm…MC?”
You, utterly content with watching your boyfriend’s muscles flex under his black tank top, snap back to reality and look at him in concern.
“Yeah? Need me to get off?”
“No, you’re supposed to…kiss me in between each rep,” he mumbles.
“Oh! Oh. I didn’t know. Guess I have to make up for a few, huh?”
You cup Beel’s cheeks and press four successive kisses to his lips before deviating to pepper his entire face with kisses. His cheeks bloom with warmth under your lips, and you’re both smiling like idiots when you pull back.
“Okay. I’m focused now. Wanna start again?”
You’ve never seen Beel do so many sit-ups in a row.
It wasn’t uncommon for the brothers to crawl into your bed at night, usually almost every night at least one of them would end up in your bed.
So when your bedroom door slowly creaked open you thought nothing of it. You just assumed someone couldn’t sleep, or maybe they had a nightmare and wanted to be near you.
Until you heard a familiar voice speak up.
“MC, I’m sorry to bother you at this time but I-“
It’s Barbatos, someone very unlikely to come in your room at night. You cut him off by pulling back the blankets and inviting him to come in your bed.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”
It was rare to see him like this, in his pajamas with his hair slightly messy probably from laying in his bed trying to sleep before coming over here.
He lays down in bed next to you, allowing himself to get comfortable under the blankets.
You curl up against him, sighing contently as you begin to feel yourself drift off to sleep again.
Although it was slightly surprising to see one of the most proper demons come in your room at night seeking comfort, you can’t help but feel a little happy so many people can find comfort in you.
Therapist (reassuring): "t’s okay. Let’s try to explore this fear a little further. Have you always been afraid of Lucifer?
Leviathan (staring at the floor, voice breaking slightly): Not really. I thought he’d never hurt us... because we’re family, and that’s all we have here. But now, I-I don’t know if I can trust him.
Therapist (gently probing): Because of what happened with Satan?
Leviathan (clenching his fists, tears welling in his eyes): Yes, of course, it’s because of that! He’s our brother, and Lucifer beat him so brutally. He fought us when we tried to help! What if I’m next? I mess up all the time, like when I accidentally trapped us in one of my games. What if he gets mad at me and fights me too?!
Therapist (nodding understandingly): I see where you’re coming from, Leviathan. It’s hard to trust someone when they go against their word.
Leviathan (eyes spilling tears, voice cracking): Yeah, it is. And I know Satan and Lucifer aren’t close, but how could he do something like that?
Therapist (handing him a tissue): Do you think Lucifer sees Satan as family?
Leviathan (sniffing, wiping his face quickly): Of course! He... he should. Satan came from Lucifer, so he’s obviously family.
Therapist (thoughtfully): Satan wasn’t in the Celestial Realm with you all, correct?
Leviathan (nodding slowly): Yeah, he came after we fell.
Therapist (gently): So, is it possible that Lucifer doesn’t think of him as family in the same way he sees the rest of you? Since Satan wasn’t raised with you all?
Leviathan (voice shaky, realization dawning): I... I didn’t think about that. But even if that’s true, Satan is still a part of Lucifer. That doesn’t make sense. Sorry.
Therapist (calmly explaining): It actually does. Satan came from Lucifer’s anger. When he was born, that became his very essence—the demon of wrath. Do you see what I’m getting at, Leviathan?
Leviathan (stammering, gripping his knees): T-That Lucifer doesn’t see Satan as his own being, but as a part of himself he lost... and that anger was the reason for our fall. So he also sees Satan as his shame.
Leviathan (interrupting, voice raw): But it’s not Satan’s fault! He didn’t deserve what happened!
Therapist (soothingly): I know that. But we’re trying to understand what Lucifer might be feeling—and why he most likely wouldn’t hurt you.
Leviathan (shaking his head, voice growing unsteady again): Yeah, but... he’s hurt Mammon before. More than once.
Therapist (momentarily shocked but trying to hide it): What do you mean?
Leviathan (wringing his hands, looking away): Mammon didn’t bring it up in his session, huh? He... he strings Mammon up whenever he does something wrong. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days. And we can’t help him, or we’ll get punished too. I used to think it was funny, but... I don’t know anymore.
Therapist (expression darkening slightly): So Lucifer has shown signs of aggression before?
Leviathan (nodding slowly, voice almost hollow): Yeah. And he locked Belphegor up in the attic for... I don’t even remember how long. He even hurt MC. I could be next. If he’s only getting worse, he could kill me.
Therapist (firmly but calmly): Leviathan, breathe.
Leviathan (frantically shaking his head, voice rising in panic): I don’t wanna be next. I love Lucifer, but he’s becoming more dangerous, and I can’t even sleep or leave my room knowing that somehow, someway, I could piss him off... and I’ll be next.
Therapist (softly but insistently): Leviathan... I’m going to ask you again to breathe with me.
Therapist (offering reassurance): It’s okay. It’s natural to feel this way. How have you been managing at home? I know you said you can’t sleep, but what about food? Bathing?
Leviathan (voice still unsteady): Mammon and Asmo bring me food. I sneak into Asmo’s personal bathroom to bathe... I just can’t face Lucifer. I can’t even go see Satan.
Therapist (gently): Why can’t you see Satan?
Leviathan (closing his eyes, voice barely above a whisper): Because if I see how he looks in the hospital... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive Lucifer. And I don’t want to lose the last bit of hope I have left... that my brother is still in there.
a kissaroo from me to you! @ralseys - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
