if youāre ever worried about making omen too unserious much just remember thereās things such as him watching horror movies with younger female agents and heās unironically sent a voicemail to brimstone where he just said āI told you soā
Also youāre having fun and not hurting anyone, be silly your honor
okay
also sorry i was 854 days 5 hours and 49 minutes late to reply to your message idk what to reply
for context i was drawing valorant fanart around that time, and i made a fanart post with tags that i felt sorry for drawing omen unserious, mostly because i was (and is) barely in the valorant fandom nor franchise, and not knowing about a character enough makes me afraid of people from that fandom complaining that i'm too OOC and then cancel me and demolish my art blog and i'll have to deal with whatever kind of internet related trauma that is
anyways someone left a message in my AMA and my introverted ass don't really know how to reply to these kind of encouragement... maybe i have some other issues too considering the previous paragraph i just fucking wrote BUT im doing it now after more than 2 years later so here have an omen
Omenās chronic case of trigger finger stops only when he finds you at the other end of his gun. But, of course, itās not you.
Itās the Phantomāyour Phantomāthat should have given it away, but heās not paying enough attention to notice the pixelated camo print that has been meticulously painted on the body or the laser sight thatās mounted. He just canāt stop staring at you. Heās drinking in your face, that fact that youāre here with him again.Ā
He hasnāt seen you in forty three daysānot that Omenās counting. First, you had been assigned on a reconnaissance mission in Siberia. It was supposed to be two weeks, maybe three max, but itās been impossible to get a hold of your team. Omen has had no word from you in forty three days, and itās affecting him more than heād care to admit. Now, he finds himself in Morrocco, shifting between sand and sentiments as he struggles to keep his attention where it mattersā
Omen doesnāt sleep. He isnāt sure what he does to pass the time, really, but sometimes, he thinks he sleeps because he dreams. He dreams that youāve died somewhere in the desolate tundra and itās his fault. Heās too far away to help you when you need it most and too weak to do anything to save you. He is thrust into consciousness each time, chest heaving and hands shaking. He finds that itās worse on quiet nights.
Thereās an enemy Raze that throws a grenade towards him. Omen barely has enough time to teleport away from danger into a narrow, curved alleyway. A trail of bullets follows him. One manages to bury itself into his shoulder. The controller hisses in pain and tucks himself deeper into the corner. Elsewhere, he hears Wingman making his rounds onsite. Killjoyās turret goes off on his right. Overhead, one of Skyeās birds burst into a ray of light.
āOmen, you need to stop worrying,ā Sage crosses her arms in the way she does whenever sheās about to scold someone.Ā
āI donāt know what youāre talking about.ā
Sage eyes the half-finished sweater in Omenās lap. Itās sat there for the last half an hour, untouched, as Omen stares at the screen listing updates on current missions. The status for you and your team hasnāt changed in eight days. It doesnāt stop him from checking.
The healer sighs. Thereās nothing she can say to truly ease his mind, but she does her best anyway. Youāre hardy and have a level head on your shoulders. Youāre there with Jett, Cypher, Breach, and Astra. An experienced team. Thereās nothing for Omen to worry aboutā
The enemy Viper fills the air with her noxious gas. It burns to breathe it in, but Omen has no choice. He stands in a toxic, green sea. He walks forward with cautious steps. Every so often, he flicks his gun back and forth, thinking heās seeing something out of the corner of his eye. He thinks he sees your face in the veridian haze, but when he turns, thereās nothing there at all. He turns around and barely spots Viper off to his left. His shot is accurate, deadly. The air clears almost as quickly as she falls. It leaves him out in the open, exposed and in clear view down your sight.
āWhat will you do if you see her?ā The tone in Vyseās voice is monotone, but Omen knows better. She never speaks without reason. The Range is quiet, save for their gunshots. She shoots three targets, dead center, before lowering her Guardian. Her signal that itās Omenās turn.
He raises his Sheriff and hits his three targets with similar accuracy.
āIt will not come to that.ā
Vyse hums. She turns to a series of mannequins standing in the corner of the Range and fires, hitting a clean headshot.
Omen takes his turn, hitting two in the head.
āWill you kill her?ā
Omen misses the third. It takes three more shots until heās able to get a clean hit.
āPerhaps not with aim like that,ā Vyse remarks dryly. āAt least sheāll put you out of your misery by killing you first.ā
He sees your familiar face, and itās as if time itself has grinded to a complete and utter stop. He feels a strange pang in his chest. He canāt bring himself to focus his aim on you. His fingers are stiff. It's as if his body canāt bring itself to pull the trigger.Ā
The feeling is not mutual.Ā
He hears someone behind him shout his name. Maybe it was Skye or Brimstone, he canāt be sure. He falls to the ground before he can register the pain of your shots coursing through his body.Ā
Whorls of brown smoke rain down from the sky as the sound of Skyeās bird shoots into the air before erupting into blinding brilliance. Enough time is bought. Two pairs of hands hurriedly find themselves hoisting the injured Controller off the ground and away from the open fire.Ā
Omen doesn't feel pain the same way now, or at least, he thinks he doesnāt. Heās not sure what is normal anymore. He knows he should be afraidāyou managed to do some nasty damageābut his heart stutters as he manages to catch a glimpse of your face between the wisps of smoke that fill the air. Heās too taken to register Skye and Brim speaking to him, Gekko racing over and frantically asking āwhat happened?,ā Killjoy replying that thereās no time for this now, we need to leave.Ā
Just the thought of you is enough to send his mind racing. Even as heās hauled away, he finds himself scanning the smoke for some sign of you. Heād accept even a trace, some vestige, but you seem to have disappeared in the chaos. For now, you have lived only in his thoughts. He is enamored by your spectral presence, your haunted, hopeless loverboy.Ā
in Omen's mind, he's just being vigilant. to everyone else, there's clearly more going on.
Omen x f!Agent!Reader
parts [1], [3]
Omen who attaches himself to your hip and never once considers why heās so keen on having your company.
Omen who is one of the last people in the entirety of Valorant HQ to realize that he has a crush on you.
All the other agents know. They talk about it too, just not to him.
āBrim keeps hinting at a mission, a big oneāWingman, put Cypherās hat down! Donāt touch whatās not yours, little buddyāHe said itās several weeks in the field.ā āYeah? Who do you thinkās going to go?ā āOmen?ā āHa! Only if the new recruit goes too! Heās like her shadow or something.ā
Omen is too tense when Miks challenges you to a friendly game of Mario Kart in the breakroom.
Heās watching too intently from the corner of the room as Yoru shows you how to do tricks with his butterfly knife.
Even as the mission looms closer and the agents begin preparations, the tension never leaves him.
Deadlock catches the way that Omen hovers when sheās giving you some shooting tips in the Range
Vyse notices the annoyance rolling off him when sheās helping you with utility placement during group training.
Itās on one of the rare occasions that you are not with Omen that Jett finally says something.
He's sitting with his bonsai tree, shears in hand, but not a single leaf has been trimmed. Instead, he's too busy watching you in the training room with Phoenix and KAYO as you practice your aim with the Sheriff when she speaks, āchill out, Omen. No oneās trying to steal your girl.ā
The sure-footed shroud fumbles with his shears, they fall into his lap. His voice, gravelly and panicked, āwhat?ā
Jettās too busy laughing at his reaction to respond, so Neon finishes for her, āthe new girl. You donāt need to stare daggers into everyone that gets within a three foot radius of her, you know.ā
Omen, who never hesitates with his words or is ever wanting for something to say, has been rendered speechless.
āJust tell her already. Itāll make this less painful for all of us.ā Jett grabs a banana off the table and throws him a wink. They don't wait for him to respond, the two Duelists set off to join you for combat practice.
Omen vaguely contemplates saying something that day at lunch, then that night when youāre seated next to him on the couch, struggling with a row of purl stitches, wonky and uneven,Ā when his comms go off, signalling an urgent mission requiring immediate departure. That mission.
Omen, who digs for his comms, only to be greeted with his own reflection in the dark screen, no ping.
Omen, whose heart drops when he realizes that itās your comms going off.Ā
Omen who hardly mutters a goodbye before youāre dashing out of the door just in time to join Jett and Cypher as they run down the hall towards the helipad. He hears your voice faintly call out to him. "Be back soon!"
Omen whoās left there alone with his sweater (well, your sweater, but you donāt know that yet), half-done, and the empty sofa cushion beside him, warm from where your body just was.
He stays there motionless until the fabric goes cold as if waiting for the last trace of you to fade away. Wordlessly, he gathers your knitting and returns to his room, alone.
