you know what, fuck it be free, keep reading that bad fan fiction, keep writing that bad fanfiction, keep using y/n, keep staying up to 4 a.m reading x reader, to be cringe is too be free
Notes: Takes place a few weeks after they defeat Shroud, assuming that SDN is rebuilt and they keep doing their Z-team thing! Also, Iâm editing this the day after, I donât know why I said GN reader at first when I literally use the word âwomenâ later on 𫩠Very sorry about that
Invisigal heard Robert end a phone call with "Okay, I love you" once and could not tell what his tone was
She told Z-team and everyone immediately started making bets
Flambae had bet that it was just his mom on the phone
"His mom is dead you dumb bitch," is what Prism said. She thinks that Invisigal misheard him because who would want to take the last name 'Robertson' in the future?
Punch-up tries to defend Robert, and by try I mean he laughed and said something along the lines of "Betting on this is useless guys, stop betting and get your nose out o' his life"
Waterboy actually tries defending Robert, but no one listened
Everyone bugs Sonar to see if he ever heard anything while Robert was on the phone, but he says no. No one knows if he's lying or not
Coupe is ignoring the entire thing because she thinks it is 'useless to bet as if anyone would go for Robert'
Phenomaman is genuinely just ignoring the betting
THEN the conversation turned into 'Do women even go for Robert?'
Waterboy, Sonar, Malevola, and Invisigal said 'occasionally'
Punch-up and Phenomaman said maybe
Flambae, Prism, and Coupe said 'no'
Invisigal and Malevola argued that 'some girls like the dad bod!'
It was dropped after one week, all without Robert becoming aware of their constant debates
They honestly forgot about the whole thing until two weeks later
You and Robert had been dating for quite a while now. You supported him before you knew he was Mecha-Man, during Mecha-Man, and when he transitioned to an office job. Robert has a lot of determination and self-discipline, but he swears he only walks into work every morning feeling somewhat motivated because of you. He sees potential in the Z-team, he truly does, so the fact that they don't even see their own potential irritates him to no end.
Every day, after work, he comes home to you and can finally relax. Being able to have a safe space to come home to is what keeps him going. He's been at his new job long enough that you can't really call it 'new' anymore, and you know his whole routine. So, when you see his lunchbox on the counter, you immediately know he's forgot it.
Thankfully, you had the day off from your own job. You decided that you'd bring Robert his lunch because if you don't, he will eat twinkies as a replacement 'meal'. Besides, why would you ever say no to seeing your boyfriend throughout the day.
--
Robert forgot his lunch, of course. He didn't want to spend too much money buying lunch from one of the nearby too-expensive lunch spots, so he figured that after his next meeting he'd hit up the vending machine.
He has a meeting with the Z-team to go over new procedures and reflections on their most recent work, which has, thankfully, been good. They're still incredibly irritating at times, but the trust throughout the team is definitely better.
The meeting goes as well as it could, minimal glass doors and windows were destroyed. Robert is, of course, the last one to leave the meeting room when he dismisses everyone.
--
When the meeting is over, everyone on Z-team immediately realizes there is a new face. None of them say hi, but they all see you speaking with Blonde Blazer. The two of you are speaking as if you've been friends forever, so they're all confused as to who you could be.
"Yeah, so, any of you know that girl?" Flambae asks the team, flippantly.
"Not a damn clue," Prism responds.
"You'd think we woulda seen 'er around before if she knows Blonde Blazer," Punch-up chips in.
Their conversation ends when they see Robert leave the room and immediately head over to you and Blonde Blazer. Robert puts his hand on your lower back and kisses the top of your head, muttering something to you as he takes a bag from your hands.
"I fucking told you!" leaving Invisigal's mouth is the first thing the break the silence.
Robert looks over, his hand on you unmoving, "What the fuck is going on?"
Phenomaman, in his blunt Phenomaman fashion, explains to Robert the bets and debates the Z-team had. You can't help but laugh at the thought of his co-workers debating if he could pull or not, but Robert is unamused. "And you couldn't just ask me beacause..?"
"Where's the fun in that Bob-man?" Flambae asks.
Safe to say, they constantly make jokes about how you're 'out of his league' and how they like you more than him
Robert doesn't mind these jokes, honestly
Robert honestly doesn't know how they didn't know, he has a picture of you and Beef on his desk
They all end up loving you, some people taking longer to warm up to than others
" wait, what's that sound?! " males of dispatch x gn! afab! reader because i dislike the use of gendered nicknames ⥠|| robert, royd, punch up, waterboy x gn! afab! reader
cw: nsfw & 18+ content ahead, of course fem anatomy used, breeding kink ofc, established relationship, implied virgin! reader, lowkey talks about kids in robert's part LOL you can see it as adoption instead as well :3,
synopsis. "taking it raw for the first time" w/ dispatch guys :)
wc: ~6k ; not proofread, might be ooc! also mostly err fluffy lil intros -> rough sx... can you tell i got tired of writing escalation to sex after a while HAHA
?! robert traced his nose down your collarbone from behind you, strong arms start to wrap around your waist whilst you cooked your usual breakfast before heading back to bed.
i mean, today was a weekend, there was nothing better than to just go back and cuddle with your husband,
beef always nudging your feet everywhere now and them while waiting for his own food, barking almost in a hushed tone.
"you two both seem pretty hungry, hm?" you let out a chuckle as you reached over for one of the snacks off the desk, "catch, beefy!" tossing it into the air at the dog proudly biting onto it, happily walking off to the living room.
"you and your son have so much in common." "you mean our son? of course he'd take after his father."
you feel a chin settle on your shoulder, and a head fit into the empty space beside your nap, "yes, mr. robertson?" "please, don't call me that, angel." you let out a small laugh before asking something out of the blueâ
"rob, have you ever thought what our kids would look like?" you gaze at your side, looking at him expectantly; tilting as you watch him cough in surprise.
"s-sorry, what baby?" "like .. do you think our features match well enough?"
he stared at you like you just admitted to a war crime as he took a breather at the table, and it's not because he hasn't thought about it, it's because he didn't know how to bring it up.
after a while in silence, you placed his meal in front of him, "you wanna try?"
you don't know what you were thinking when you said that, but you couldn't say much anyway, not when you were bent over the dining table, his hand was already dug into the strands of your scalp; pushing your pretty little face right onto the table.
"wahhânnghh, hah, mmf! h-harder pleasef-" you whine out as his cock kisses your insides, making obscene sounds neighbors would complain about. your entrance squelched loudly every thrust that slapped against your ass. literally hissing at the burn of how far his cock stretched you out.
"o-ohh, fuckâyeah, you really... haahfuck, want my kids in you, yeah?" throwing his head back promptly, he felt so insanely turned on by how hard your tight pussy was clenching onto his dick, it felt like it was about to snap off of him.
"nngh, hah... rârob, fâuuck! s'good...!" you moaned loudly into the surface of the table; you shut your eyes close, your words fumble as your cheeks indent into the counter, your shorts pooled at your ankles. hands grasping at the fat of your hips, continuing with merciless pistons of his hips into yours.
his smile grows into a smirk, watching your hole let his cock sink into you; your entrance shudders around him, making him twitch in return; your hands grip at the wood of the table, barely holding onto to it,
"fâfuck, i'm gonna... gonna fuck a kid into you." you gasped, lip quivering as you shudder under the pressure building up in your stomach. "they're gonna be so fuckin' adorable, jus'âhaah, imagine... their cute lil' faces.."
his hand adjusts its grasp in your hair, lifting you up so he could see your face better, "jus' look at thâeir beautiful fuc-fucking parent they're gâhaah-gonna have... y-your eyes... and my head of hair."
"fuuuck, you feel thâaat? all for you, angel." he cooed into your ear, his finger tracing your jaw gently as you continue to whine in pleasure. the helpless rolls of his hips into yours spiked euphoria up into you, "ahhn- rob, wâwhat would you w-wanna name her i-if she were a girl."
a hard thrust spears right through you, "roxanne sounds good, don't you think?" he smirks, pulling your head up by your hair; one arm now holding you up as he continues to hit your insides up. "god i'm gonna be very... hah.. confused if you don't get pregnant, mmmâby t-tonight."
you didn't know if you felt overwhelmed or not, but god were you crying so fucking happily; you haven't had anyone fuck you at all, not anyone good at least. "eâevery other guy that's fucked you never got you this pleased, mmm?" letting out a huff through ragged words, he was so in love with you.
"fuck, i needed this. needed you." he mumbled into your skin, your skin scattered with bites of love blessed your shoulders and collarbones, your legs were already quivering, twitching even; his pace was one you weren't even aware about.
he grinned at how helpless you were, god was he just loving this, no matter how little sleep he got last night; this fully woke him up, of course it would. he hadn't heard you moan like this since the first time you two got to make out, and that was a while ago. you two never thought of having kids... well, until you brought it up. which would be nowâtwo weeks after your wedding.
"holy shiiit, god you feel so fuckin' good, babyâmmmfuck! hold it right there, angel, right there." he could tell with the way you were being pushed to your climax, that's when you would clench around him hard, although it already was a tight fit on your own. his voice was like a growl of that an animal, animalistic and sharp thrusts that made you shiver.
"nnh, ahhhâ fuck i-i think i will, rob, mmn please!" you whimper, he loved to hear the desperation in your voice grow. "i'm gonna breed you, im gonna fucking breed you, fuckfuckfuckâ"
his arms surround your waist before you felt your climax strike in unison with spurts of come that touched your womb, making your eyes roll back into your skull, you both moan loudly in unison,
juices mixed with both yours and his drip to the floor, you lean backwards, your head landing onto one of his broad shoulders, his muscley arms keep you in place. "fuck, you did good, angel. so, so proud of you."
you smile weakly before giving a shy kiss onto his lips, your hand on the back of his head. "love you so much rob."
...
"BEEF DON'T DRINK THATâ"
cw: used hawaiian nickname/s ive heard from tv shows :sob:
royd was directly behind you, helping with dishes, you wash the dirt off, he scrubs the soap on, and you place them into the plate dryer, it was the life... except you felt like something was missing...
"thanks for helping baby." you reached up to kiss him as you take your dish gloves off, taking a seat on a kitchen counter nearby. swinging your legs as you smile at your husband.
"no problem, m'lady. anything else?" ... "would you be down to breed me?"
his eyes widen for a moment, showing his clear surprise until it fades into a smile; "y-you what, my love?" his glance moved over to the sink, cleaning the dirt built at the bottom to avoid looking you straight in the eye, "where are you looking, roy? come on! i wanna know if you've been thinking what i have recently!"
"i have been thinking.... ever since we got married, but ehh... i din know if ya wanted 'em too." he sighed, rubbing the back of his nape, you laugh a little at his response,
"don't worry, it's just a question. but i... i want you to feel good too." and there you go, he couldn't even stop you because god he's been wanting a few for a long, long time. but why would he ever force you?
"sorry, i'm justâ i know it might... it might hurt, but i'm willing to take you." "keep talking, and i think i might."
you were already bent over the kitchen counter, his cock lined up right between your thighs, touching the very surface of your clit, but only merely using your thighs for friction and pleasure. "fuck, yâyou feel amazin' ipo... haah."
you whined at the way he easily manhandled your thighs, your cunt getting wetter by the second; sadly only to be pleased by rubbing against your folds, and not actually inside you...
"i... i'll let ya think about dis, first, 'kay? i'mma fuck your thighs first..." his voice was soft, but god was his cock absolutely monster sized, your thighs could barely cover half of it, "nnh, but i wan' it now..." whining with plead so dearly, he usually wouldn't be able to resist, but he wanted you to be able to back out whenever you wanted,
after all it was your first time. he didn't want you to feel anything you didn't.
your clothes were somewhere over there, your legs were twitching around him making him groan with volume. you squeezed your thighs together on impulse whilst he slowly moved your lower body in and out the friction.
you felt your juices slowly dripping onto your inner thighs as well, his big mushroom tip pushing through the cleavage of your skin making you cry in waves of pleasure as he continued to over, and over again.
"you make it hard, hard nânot to thrust i-into you..." he coos into your ear, you could only get off to the rub you got from his shaft; "mmfuck, please, royd, i wan' it...!" you cried out, you don't know if this was his way of teasing,
he suddenly removed himself, and flipped you over to lay on your back. "oh myâfuck!" and there it was, barely an inch in and you could feel a singing burn, god did he stretch you out so, so badly. and you loved it so much; when the hell did he get tattoos on his cock?!
you could see his inked up shaft slowly enter inside you as you let out one long, loud mouthful cry of pleasure.
"do ya like it? cause sshit, you right.. you do feel nice..."
thirty minutes later, he had your legs up on his large shoulders, your body sloped up slightly, a very, very clear belly bulge was in your stomach, which only turned the both of you on all the more. "nghhâf-uuuckk, royd so good... mmn- sshit, so good!" you exclaimed, lust filling your entire body; his cock felt fucking amazing going up into your tight pussy,
"s-so fucking good for me, ipo..." he whispered into your ear, bending your body into a tight mating press, your face was clear with corruption as your eyes were consistently rolled back into your skull, back arching every thrust he gave you. loud squelches bounce off all the interior.
cw: brief usage of a foreign petname!
punch up, aka colm's hands were strong, you loved the way he could pick you up, and throw you around without any difficulty, which could probably be said about right now.
"ooh- nghh, fâuuck! colm, r-right there..." his arms lifted you up and down so so so easily, you swear you felt you were being split in half the way he had almost no doubt whilst fucking you up and down onto his cock.
only a mere mirror as his reference to see your expression, your body, and how your body reacted to his. watching the milky ring on the base of his cock grow in unison with his smirk, "y-yeah, y'like it, mo chride?" you moaned at the sudden use of the petname, and god did you love hearing his accent.
it was the first time you two got to fuck in a while, work taking up 3/4 his schedule; and now here he was, fucking his pretty little partner on the edge of the bed while he lifted them up and down, controlling the pace of how often his tip gets to hit your sweet, spongy core.
water droplets of sweat fell off your body, off your forehead, your arms, everywhere, you had just come out the shower, and he couldn't wait any longer to take you now. steam fogged up the reflective surface, yet he could still make out your figure through all of it. your bath towel was thrown to the side,
the air conditioner was loud with cool gliding over your body, making you shiver as you continue to ride him. gummy walls closed in around his cock, making him groan loudly as well, his shaft covered in your juices and his.
you shut your eyes close in euphoria, feeling him bulge into your tummy oh-so well. despite any rumor that he has a small dick, it could not be further from the truth.
"fuck, 'm g'na cum in ya, sshit!"
waterboy, also known as your herman, was shriveled up and submitting to your touch as you pulled on his tie. slightly choking him as you dipped your entrance on his cock once more; "ffuck, baby... sâso good... nnnh!" he whimpered underneath you, face flushed with embarrassment and pleasure.
his eyebrows knit together in pleasure, raising his face to look up at you with your finger, "look at me, herm, please? need to see your face when you cum inside me, 'kay?"
your voice was soft, and caring, just like the one he fell in love with, and god he wanted you even more whenever you treated him like this. pathetic when your warm cunt takes all of his big, nerdy dick inside you. watching it enter you was what turned you on even more than the praise you give him,
"fâuuuck! so.. good, mmf..." his voice cracked, he was so in love with how you control whatever happened right now, even as you placed his palms over your ass, and your hands land on his shoulders. " hold onto me, maybe you'll fall apart earlier than usual." ah, there was that adorable giggle, he was just eating what-fucking-ever you gave him,
"mmmn, fuck, i could do this for hours, kâkeep mumbling like that and i might actually."
it was the first time you got to take your herman raw, usually he'd want to be safe, but per request, he wanted to take all of you on him, and he was happy he was the cause of that gorgeous bulge in your stomach.
"can see those hearts in your eyes, baby, you really like when i ride you, don't you?" you tease into his ear, playing with his hair gently, unlike the rhythm of your hips sinking onto his.
hi iâve recently been really into dispatch lately so have this thought.
im sorry if its not accurate or i get characterization wrong, most of my knowledge is from clips ive seen of the game and watching only half of the episodes because ive been so busy but i do know whats going on.
CW!! this is ass im sorry, gore?? fighting and violence, i kept reader as gender neutral as possible and i kept this free of any spoilers about the new episodes. reader has a power. uuhhh thats it i think
the z-team with a dispatcher reader who is an absolute sweetheart.
anyone at SDN who has worked or interacted with you always has something nice to say.
of course, a lot of the team are very weary around you at first, thinking that its all an act and youâll eventually show your true colors.
but that never happenes. you just have this sort of hope and care for them that alot of the team werenât used to.
you're so kind and thoughtful to everyone, even with the more colder and ruder personalities. youâre always willing to help and listen, making sure everyone is taken care of and feels seen but you also donât push too hard.
you simply do the best you can with what youâre given.
but make no mistake, just cause youâre a sweetheart doesnât mean that youâre also a doormat. youâve had your fair share of having to be cold and stern with certain people.
although those moments are definitely rare, theyâre not unfamiliar to you.
thereâs actually a rumor (that you refuse to comment on) about how you were actually supposed to be a hero but for some reason you never pursued it. they know you have powers but they donât know how powerful you are.
anytime they try to ask and pry theyâre always met with the same smile and a very vague answer before you gently tell them to focus on work.
none of the team have really seen that side of you. maybe youâve come close to it once or twice when your forced smile gets too tight because someone is spouting the most ridiculous nonsense to you but youâve always managed to keep your composure.
but that fight at the bar definitely changed their view on you.
you had been sitting outside with golem, not really in the mood for drinking so you thought you would keep him company. you both were just talking about the music he listens to when a portal opened in front of you both.
you follow golem and are shocked by the chaotic scene. you debate just waiting for everyone outside but donât get the chance to think about it for too long when some random villain attempts to attack you from behind.
your instincts kick in and you manage to quickly dodge. you grab them by the back of their head and slam their head into the floor repeatedly, effectively knocking them out.
you try to make your escape outside but this time you feel someone put you in a headlock. they try to slit your throat but it doesnât penetrate your skin. for a moment they look confused.
thatâs when they realize the change in your appearance. they couldnât cut you because your skin fucking hardens. (im uncreative with powers so yes this is based off of kirishima from mha and maybe colossus from x men)
you take their stunned silence as a chance to wriggle yourself out of their grip and deliver a punch to the face. because your skin is harder that means any of your regular attacks hit 100x harder.
you practically pushed the guys nose into his brain with the way he screams and falls to the floor, writhing in pain.
youâre trying to calm yourself down and clear your head but another villain tries attacking you once again, this time hitting you with a chair.
it doesnât work of course. it breaks but it doesnât do any damage. you look at the scrawny villain with the most terrifying death glare and he realizes he fucked up.
the team only become aware of your presence when you throw the guy across the bar and he crashes through the window, landing through the building across the street.
they spare a glance in your direction and are surprised at the drastic change in appearance.
you have a much darker and wilder look, your skin is harder and it makes you look sharp. like if they even put a pinky on you, their entire hand would get get off.
some of them look at you in awe and shock while others are cheering you on for finally letting loose.
only to quickly realize why you kept this hidden.
youâre not just beating the villains that are attacking you, youâre going absolutely insane on anyone getting in your way.
by the end of the fight they have to get flambae, punch-up and sonar in his true bat form to pry you off of the poor sap who probably needs facial reconstruction surgery after receiving the devastating hits you were giving to him and his friend whoâs chest is probably caved in.
now youâre sat outside of this fast food place you donât remember the name of, wearing sonars suit jacket because unfortunately your clothes got messed up. you tiredly munch on the food someone slide towards you.
another reason you didnât like using your power was because it took a fuck ton of energy out of you. you wouldnât be surprised if you end up oversleeping tomorrow. or just not going to work at all.
youâre brought back to reality when you realize someone was calling your name.
âwhy did you never became a hero? with that lil power of yours, youâre basically a human shieldâ prism asks as she and the others rewatch the video she managed to take of you while you were fighting.
this catches everyones attention. all of them agreeing before looking over to your tired form, waiting for your answer.
honestly, it was a lot of reasons. yeah your power was great but you hated how weak you felt after. the pain you would feel deep within your bones. especially when someone did manage to hit you hard enough even in your hardened state, the aftershock of it was the absolute worst.
if it wasnât the pain in your bones, it was the way your skin felt after. you always felt like you were on fire while someone was cutting into your skin simultaneously.
but those werenât the biggest reasons you decided to not become a hero.
after taking a sip of your drink, you bluntly answer.
âi hate violenceâ
they all stare at you, waiting for you to elaborate further before realizing that you werenât going to as you continued to eat your food.
they laugh at the answer.
of fucking course that was your reason.
but as they all watch the video of you snapping one of the villians necks like it was a pencil, they understand.
and honestly? theyâre grateful that your a sweetheart.
uuuuhhhh i didnât know how to end this so yeah.
hope you enjoyed! i love these goobers so much i need more z-team x reader fics NEOWWW CAUSE IM A WHORE!!!!
ŕŞââ´ synopsis: messy makeouts are the cure to your boyfriends jaded soul.
ŕŞââ´ contents: established relationship, suggestive, the suit stays on, slight nipple play, clothed sex, kinda sweet, my smut is rusty, sorta short, I need him oml, 18+
ŕŞââ´ idk man heâs turned me feral ig. hope you enjoy my loves!
âBabe- fuck- if youâre gonna grind on me fucking do it, stop with the teasing.â His words come out all gruff and muffled against your jaw as his gloved hands squeeze at your ass, pressing you down against him with a choked noise that catches pathetically in his throat.
âI donât wanna ruin your suit,â you reply sweetly, as if you hadn't imagined this exact scenario the first time you had seen him in it. he chuckles faintly at your words, knowing damn well how dirty your mind is despite the cute little innocent act you had going on.
Robert reaches a hand up to curl his fingers around your jaw, pulling you closer to him until his lips press against yoursâ grinning against your mouth as you wiggle a little on his lap, hands grasping at his shoulders.
âYou think I care about the damn suit right now?â
You go to answer, but he only kisses you deeper, tongue pushing past your lips, fingers slipping into your hair before murmuring: ârhetorical question, sweetheart. I donât care, just keep moving your hips.â
And you do, grinding your clothed cunt down against his hard-on with a broken little moan that makes his head spin. your arms curl around his shoulders as his hands drop back down to your hips to guide you a little harder against him.
âThere you go, just- fuck- just like that, baby.â He grunts, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the side of your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to give him more space, whispering out his name breathily when he sucks at the underside of your jaw.
He needed this after todayâs shit show, just a little TLC from youâ and god knows he could spend hours like this with you all around him smelling like vanilla and so incredibly warm, he needed to feel you, your bare skin, so he quickly tugs his gloves off, throwing them onto the floor to run his hands all over your curves, rough palms tracing over your waist and up along your back.
âYouâre so soft, so pretty.â He whispers against your mouth before pulling back just to lift your shirtâ his shirtâ over your head. His lidded gaze drinks you all in with a boyish grin, like he was proud of himself. âso fuckinâ pretty,â he drawls out, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbing over your nipples.
âAh!- Robert-" you gasp when he pinches the hardened peaks, and you arch into his calloused palms with a broken whimperâ giving a lazy roll of your hips that makes him writhe needily beneath you.
âwanna see you- need to-â
Your fingertips clumsily brush along his stubbled jaw, slipping under his mask and pushing it off his head. his freckled cheeks are slightly flushed, and his hair is all tussled, even more so when you run your fingers through it, coaxing a sigh from him.
âMissed you.â your words instantly soften something inside him, then your peppering warm kisses against his cheeks, and he just melts completelyâ arms wrapping around you like youâre the only thing grounding him⌠and in some way, yeah, you were.
âmâhere now, baby, not going anywhere,â he promises, breath fanning over your collarbones, sloppily kissing back up your neck to your mouthâ his lips slick with a mixture of your spit and his, all red and kiss-bitten. âIâm here.â
You clench around nothing as you rock down against his hard cock that is strained against his suit, the rough texture of it rubbing perfectly against your clothed clitâ the cotton fabric of your panties completely drenched, leaving a filthy wet patch where youâre grinding desperately. your fingers tug at his hair, which only makes him jolt and buck under you making all sorts of needy moans that only encourages you to move.
The kiss is hot, wet, with his tongue licking into your mouth and his teeth nipping at your bottom lipâ swallowing back all your whines whilst his hands grope at you, fingers sinking into the fat on your hips almost bruisingly.
âGonna make a mess on me, huh?â come on baby, câmon.â you can tell by the strain in his gruff voice that he was close, the way he tucks his face into the warm crook of your neck, panting hotly.
He mouths lazily at your collarbones as you practically soak his lap with a whiny: âYeahâ Robbie, comingâ fuck, mâcoming.â and he follows embarrassingly quick after you, coming in his underwear and ruining his suit even more than it already wasâ a very warm and sticky mess pooling wetly between you.
Your thighs twitch at either side of his own, and you collapse against his chest with a shuddering breath whilst his fingers run soothingly through your hair, trailing along your spine.
âYou alright?â he asks breathlessly. you respond with a nod, and he grins against your shoulder, âbed?â
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 [ALL PARTS]
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 perfectâthough 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 sometimesâa 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 hotâlike, objectively, scientifically attractiveâbut 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, reallyâmaybe 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 smileâpolite, 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 andâ"
"The fraud thing?"
"âit 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 andâ"
"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 itâ"
"You told her about your fraud charges."
"I was being honest. Chicks dig honesty."
Malevola sighs. "Sonarâ"
"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 youâ"
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 sugarâone, two, three packets, as usualâand 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 andâ
He's made a miscalculation.
Grabbing your mug, you step backwardâand 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. "Iâ"
"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'tâI justâ" 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 toâ"
"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 youâ"
"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 helpâ"
"It's fine."
"Let me get you paper towels, orâ"
"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 toâ"
"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 insteadâblack, no sugarâand 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 throbâenhanced hearing is a blessing until it very much isn'tâand 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 thisâthis looks like stalking. This looks like he planned this. This looks likeâ
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. "Didnât see you there. Whatâs up?â
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 hereâ"
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 closeâthat would be creepy, invasive, weird. But not too far eitherâthat 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 swearingâand 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 youâ" 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 himâ
"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 andâ"
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 mindâfired for a failed drug test of all things, after everything he's survived, after clawing his way back from federal charges andâ
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 swearsâhe fucking swearsâyou 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'mâI'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 thoughtâ" 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 elseâsomething smoothâbut 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 quicklyâtoo quicklyâand 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 insideâat the image of losing you to a crowd.
He nods, probably too quick. "For sure. You justâyou 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 insideâ
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 shoulderâ
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.
"âjust 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. "Sheâs 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 yoursâ"
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 yoursâyour heart is racing too.
Victorâno, the beast now, the creature version, massive and monstrousâhunches 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'mâyeah, I'm going, I'mâ"
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.
"Noâthat wasâ" 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 stiffensâin multiple ways, unfortunatelyâand 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. Thatâthe 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 weâcan we justâ" He does an awkward shuffle-turn with you so his bare ass is facing the wall. "Just turn with meâyeah, like thatâ"
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'sâ"
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 sceneâyou, 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.
"Noâuh, 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'mâwow. 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 stiffensâand 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'llâŚsee 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'sâit's Sonarâ" 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 transformsâcarefully holding his jacket this timeâand 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
đ˝ THE NEXT PARTS can be read on ao3
(itâs much easier for to continue stories with their platform đ)
