I’d like to think that Omen is an insomniac/doesn’t really sleep. Can I get some headcanons or a drabble of Omen going to the roof when he can’t sleep and finding gn!reader by themselves because they also can’t sleep and they just chill and watch the stars together?
ty for answering my call for omen recs. this was actually so cute and i may have made it a bit too emo but also fluffy.
Stargazing (Omen x reader)
Word Count: 642
Slight angst, fluff
The night is quiet and dark, as it always is. Omen stands in his room, contemplating nothing in particular. His new form doesn’t require much sleep, if at all— he hasn’t tried to test it honestly. Sometimes, time just… blurs into itself.
Knitting helps with the spasms— there’s not enough of him left to call them muscle spasms. But other nights the pain is too much to think of counting the stitches, row after row.
Tonight, the pain is not so bad. The voices, though. Those never leave. The souls he’s taken, or perhaps they were souls that once mattered to him. Omen can’t recall.
He used to wander the headquarters at the dead of night when he had nothing else to do. Walking helped quiet the voices. But after he unintentionally ran into a half awake Phoenix and almost caused him to burn down the common room, he figured it might be best for him to stick to his room.
But tonight, something draws him away, to the roof. As he steps onto the large, flat roof, Omen feels a sense of calm wash over him. The night sky is so vast and quiet above, its calm reaches down into him. The stars are so cold and distant from this view— nothing he could harm. Not even his untethered form could reach them, he thinks.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
A voice shocks Omen from his reverie. His head snaps to look for the source, landing on you. You smile an uncertain smile— he supposed that’s better than most of what he gets from the other protocol members.
“They look cold.” He finally answers.
You quirk an eyebrow at him. “They’re actually the opposite. The hottest stars are over five times as hot as our sun.”
Omen watches as you look up at the stars, clearly enamored. The way you look up at them… he almost envies it. He realizes he can’t remember the feeling of the sun on his skin, on his body.
Not wanting to dwell on the thoughts, Omen turns to you. He finds himself fixating on your arms— then immediately catches himself for having stared at your arms. Admittedly, you do have quite nice arms. They’re lean and muscular, a few lighter marks from scars long faded. (He wonders if you have an interest in crafts…)
“Do you come here… often?” he asks you, painfully aware of how cheesy the words sound. Though, perhaps more so if it had come from someone less like him.
You laugh. “A bit. Can’t sleep,” you shrug. “What about you?”
Omen shrugs, mimicking you. It feels… good. Human. Sitting here, talking with you.
“I do not often sleep. Not anymore,” he says. You look at him, empathy in your gaze.
You don’t press, which he appreciates further. The two of you just lie down in silence. Omen images that the tile of the roofing under him is still the slightest bit warm from soaking in the sun’s rays, that if he presses his worn fingers to them he’ll feel that intoxicating heat of the sun.
“Do you want to hear more about the stars?” You ask.
Omen surprises himself by speaking before he can think further about it. “I’d love to.” Further to his surprise, he realizes the sentiment is genuine.
There was a time where he had thought the only way he could find fulfillment was through the stealing of souls from others. That the sensation he felt in battle was peace.
You light up. “See those stars there— that bright cluster? That’s a part of Ursa Major. Actually we predict the formation is gonna change in the future…”
But maybe this is another kind of peace— lying here, listening to you speak, the stars glinting in the darkness.
If Omen tries hard, he thinks he can feel their warmth again.
