The Possessive Stuff (because we have to start here- obviously)
- Nolan does not do subtle. If someone is paying you too much attention at a social event, he will materialize at your side with one hand on the small of your back and say absolutely nothing. He just stands there. Six foot something of Viltrumite disapproval radiating off him like heat. The person always finds somewhere else to be.
- He doesn't call it jealousy. He calls it awareness of threats. You have stopped arguing about the distinction.
- Physical proximity is non-negotiable for him. Not in a frantic, clingy way — in a calm, immovable way. Like a planet asserting gravity. He'll sit close enough that your shoulders touch and act like he chose that spot for completely neutral reasons.
- If you've been gone longer than expected, he won't panic. He'll just be exactly where you walk in the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "Traffic?" he'll ask. You both know he tracked your heartbeat the whole time.
- He has a very firm opinion on where you sleep and that opinion is: next to him. Every night. This is not up for debate. He stated it once at the beginning of the relationship like it was a perfectly reasonable policy and has never revisited the conversation.
The Surprisingly Domestic Stuff
- Makes coffee every morning without asking how you take it because he memorized that on day two and considers it basic information management. It's always exactly right.
- Terrible at apologies but genuinely tries. His version of sorry is doing the thing you asked three times in a row and then pretending the argument never happened. You've learned to recognize it for what it is.
- Has opinions about your home that he voices like they're objective facts. "That chair doesn't belong there." Nolan. It's my apartment. “It's obstructing the sightline to the door." He rearranged it while you were in the shower and honestly the room does look better.
- He reads. A lot. Old literature mostly — the kind with cracked spines and yellowed pages. Sometimes he reads aloud to you without announcing he's going to, just starts talking in that low, even voice, and it's honestly one of the most unintentionally intimate things he does.
- Cooks occasionally and is annoyingly good at it. Viltrumites apparently have a thing about not wasting resources, which translates to him being incapable of letting food go bad. Your fridge has never been more organized.
The Intimidating Softness
- The first time he tells you he loves you, it comes out like a confession he didn't mean to make. You're doing something completely mundane — washing dishes, maybe, or reading — and he just looks at you for a long moment and says it. Flat. Quiet. Like he's reporting a fact he's been sitting with for a while and finally decided you should know.
- He does not say it constantly after that. But when he does say it, it lands every single time because you know he doesn't use words he doesn't mean.
- His hands are enormous and very careful with you. Always. (Unless you ask him to be rough, he is more than happy to oblige) There's a deliberateness to the way he touches you — like he's made a continuous, conscious choice to be gentle — and understanding why that costs him something makes it mean more than it probably should. (I should also point out that if you’re bratty or in general continuously doing things that upset him, he will put those enormous hands to use on spanking your ass raw)
- When you're upset he doesn't immediately try to fix it or fill the silence. He sits with you. Nolan Grayson, the most impatient man alive, will just sit there quietly for as long as you need. It might be the most Viltrumite thing about him — he simply decides to endure something and then does it without complaint.
- Compliments from him are devastating because they're rare and always specific. Never you look nice. Always something like “That color looks like something you chose on purpose" or "You handled that better than most people would." He notices things. He just usually keeps them to himself until he doesn't.
The Complicated Stuff
- There are things about him you will never fully reach and he knows it and doesn't apologize for it. His loyalty to Viltrum, his complicated grief, the centuries of life behind his eyes — he carries it separately and sometimes you can see him doing it. On those nights he goes quiet in a different way. You've learned not to push.
- He will never fully stop being what he is. The danger, the calculation, the way he weighs everything including you against larger equations. You didn't sign up for easy and some days that's hard. He knows that too.
- But he chose this. Chose you. And for a man like Nolan Grayson, who has lived long enough to know the cost of choosing anything — that means something enormous, even when he can't find the words for it.
- He would burn a significant portion of the world down for you and considers this a perfectly measured response. You try not to think about it too hard.
The Small Things That Get You Every Time
- Tucks you in if you fall asleep somewhere you shouldn't. Does it without waking you. Never mentions it.
- Remembers everything you've ever told him. Everything. An offhand comment you made six months ago about a food you dislike will result in him quietly making sure it's never served when he has any say in the matter.
- Flies you places without being asked when he can tell you're tired. Just says "come on" and you go up, and everything that was loud gets very small and quiet and it's just wind and his arm around you and honestly it fixes something every time.
- Has never once said be careful when you leave. Instead he says “I'll know if something happens." Somehow this is more comforting than it has any right to be.
Nolan is not an easy person to love. He knows this. He just happens to believe you're capable of it anyway — and for Nolan Grayson, that kind of faith is its own quiet form of devotion.
You're Omni-Man's assistant at the GDA. You think he's a jerk, and he thinks the same of you. So falling for him was not part of the plan.
cw/word count: implied age gap, Debbie and Mark don't exist, r calls Nolan "a-hole" (that's how I speak idk I'm sorry), brief thoughts of murder, third-party alcohol consumption, Nolan breaks a guy's hand, fluff. 3k+ words
A/N: hi! this is my first fic posted to this (side)blog. and, uh, regarding the fact that I like Nolan... evil is subjective, hot is not.
Omni-Man’s shoulders take up your entire doorway, blocking the fluorescent light from the hall and anyone who may be trying to enter. Not that you get many visitors besides him and the occasional drop-in from Cecil. Besides, it’s not Omni-Man casting a shadow into your closet of an office now. It’s Nolan Grayson. He has his hands clasped behind his back, the seams of his grey henley fighting to remain intact.
“What?” you ask, not yet looking away from your laptop.
Nolan clears his throat, then smiles when you roll your eyes. “Ahem,” he repeats, somehow more dramatically than the first time.
Leaning back in your chair, you turn toward him and ask, “Oh, great and powerful Omni-Man, how ever may I assist you?”
“That’s better,” he applauds, nodding as he takes a half-step over the threshold. It’s a tight space, so if you lift your hand, you’ll be touching his thigh. He doesn’t seem to notice how close he is, his warmth pressing into you.
“Did you need something or are you just here to use up the oxygen?” you deadpan, tipping your chin up to see him.
“I read the speech you wrote for tomorrow’s interview. It’s too…”
“Direct?” you guess.
“I was going to say god awful.”
You scoff, allowing the arm of your chair to hit him as you return to your desk. “Yeah, well, it’s not my job to make you seem like less of an a-hole, Nolan.”
Nolan reaches out with his right hand and catches the back of your chair. You try to pull away from him, but it’s useless. He bends, his face inches from yours.
“That’s precisely your job,” he argues lowly.
“Then maybe,” you reply slowly, “you should stop making it so hard.”
The corner of his mouth twitches up as the metal frame of your chair creaks.
“Don’t break another chair,” you warn.
This time, he actually smiles. “You didn’t seem to mind the last time.”
“You body slammed me, Nolan. The only reason I didn’t mind was because you saved my life. I couldn’t lift my arm over my head for a week!”
“Why would you need to do that?” he murmurs, glancing down at your hands.
“Because normal human people have things to do and don’t recover in twelve seconds, Omni-Man.”
He sighs, then releases the chairs and shows you his hands. “No harm done. See?”
“Good,” you muse with a nod. “Now go memorize your speech.”
“I think I’ll wing it,” he decides as he straightens. “Can’t be worse than what you wrote.”
“Fine.” You shrug and wave a flippant hand toward the door. “If it’s bad, I get fired.”
“What would you do then?”
Glancing up at him, you smile and answer, “Get a job where I don’t get accosted by superheroes every fifteen minutes.”
Nolan stiffens, his eyes darkening before he asks, “Other heroes?”
Shrugging, you look back to the laptop and remind him, “The GDA isn’t just for you. Cecil keeps us busy.”
Nolan hums, and then he’s gone. You drop your hand to the base of your chair, sighing when you feel the dent of his handprint. Cecil meant it when he said heroes were the reason you couldn’t have nice things.
Down three corridors and past two Top Secret clearance-only doors, Nolan finds Cecil.
“Did you break the door again?” Cecil asks, his pen stilling on the paper he’s signing.
“I’m taking her with me to the interview tomorrow,” Nolan says. He doesn’t have to say your name, and he wouldn’t even if you weren’t his assistant on paper – it seems you’re the only person in the GDA that Nolan has any semblance of care for. This is not a question or a negotiation; it’s a decision that Cecil has no say in. Unless, of course, he decides to argue.
“That’s fine,” he mutters. “Was that all?”
Nolan prepares to leave without answering, then remembers, “She needs a new chair.”
“It’s from Milan,” Nolan says, sounding far too proud as he watches you turn in front of the mirror.
“It’s a little much,” you mumble, smoothing the fabric down your sides. “It’s an interview – your interview – not dinner with the queen.”
“Oh, I’d get you something much more formal for dinner with the queen,” he scoffs.
You sigh, dropping your shoulders as you turn toward him. Nolan moves quickly, but you see his eyes shift to the mirror before lifting to your face. “Why am I even going?” you question. “I have work to do.”
“You are working. Someone has to keep me from acting like a-”
“When has that worked?” you interrupt incredulously. “The last time Cecil asked me to step in between you and a reporter, I made it worse!”
Nolan tips his head, then points out, “Technically, he made it worse.”
“That’s not the point here, Omni-Man,” you groan. “I know you can do this by yourself. Why drag me into it?”
Stepping toward you, Nolan crosses his arms over his chest and muses, “You lose a lot of your fight when I get you out of the office.”
“You’re still insufferable,” you snap, matching his stance.
Nolan smiles down at you and whispers, “I like the dress.”
“Then you wear it.”
“I think it would clash with the ‘stache,” he jokes. “If you can tell me one real, valid reason you shouldn’t go, I’ll fly you back to HQ right now.”
“Uh,” you breathe out, chewing your bottom lip as you try to think of a reason. “I have a report to finish.”
“When’s it due?” he checks, staring at your lips.
“Monday.”
“Plenty of time to do it after. So, shall we fly or use the car Cecil sent?”
You drop your arms, accepting your fate. “I think you do this just to see me miserable.”
“Milan and back for a designer dress,” Nolan reminds you. “Yeah, misery was the goal.”
It’s too quiet. The GDA offices in the Pentagon are silent; half of the staff is investigating what’s left from this morning’s fight, and the other half is staring blankly at muted screens trying to figure out how this happened. Your phone buzzes with a message from Cecil.
Now is all it says.
So, you leave your desk and walk through the halls, on autopilot as you scan your badge to reach a part of the building that doesn’t exist (or so the U.S. government thinks). When you reach your destination, your senses begin returning. The sharp sting of antiseptic reaches you first, then the overlapping beeps of various machinery illuminated by harsh white lights.
“In there,” Cecil tells you, pointing to a door. “I’ve got to make a call.”
He leaves you alone in the tiled hallway. You raise your hand three times before you actually find the doorknob and push the door open. The beeping is louder inside, a large machine showing numbers that blur together as you look at the world’s strongest man lying on a gurney.
Cecil told you when they got Omni-Man here that he’d probably be unconscious for a while. GDA has access to the best physicians, but Omni-Man isn’t supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be… invincible.
Moving to the side of the bed, you sink into a hard plastic chair. Omni-Man has bruises lining his face, a deep scratch on his left arm, and bruising on his chest that disappears beneath the blanket covering him.
“Idiot,” you scoff. “You’re not supposed to pick fights like that by yourself.”
The machine beeps twice in rapid succession before he mumbles, “Don’t like teams.”
“And this is where it gets you.”
Omni-Man doesn’t bother opening his eyes, but he smiles, which quickly transitions to a grimace. “You sound worried.”
“I’m pissed,” you correct, leaning toward him. “Do you know what happens if you lose a fight? Because we don’t. You’re not supposed to lose, Omni-Man. What happens then?”
“I didn’t lose,” he argues. “Just… took a few more hits than I should have.”
“I’m not fighting with you right now,” you murmur as you stand.
Omni-Man can still move quickly, you find, his arm a blur as he wraps his fingers around your wrist. His bright blue eyes are on you when you turn, clearer than you’ve seen them in weeks. “Stay,” he whispers.
You swallow, then ask, “Why?”
“Because I want to explain what happened, and you’re the only one who will listen without expecting the best of me.”
“That was… surprisingly earnest,” you realize. “Wait, are you dying?!”
“No, I’m not dying,” he groans, pushing his head back into the pillow. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Says the guy who got thrown into the sun!”
“Are you going to keep yelling at me or listen?!” Omni-Man exclaims.
You exhale sharply, then nod. “Fine. I’m listening, Omni-Man.”
He nods, shifting his hand to trace your palm. “Call me Nolan?” he requests.
“No.”
You don’t remember how many NDAs you signed when you joined the GDA, but there were a lot. And should you do something they don’t approve of, you’ll likely just disappear from the planet without a trace. Maybe they’d get Omni-Man to fly you to a distant planet and leave you there.
Even with the NDAs, you have to vent to someone. So, you talk to your best friend about work. Only she thinks you work in the fraud department at the bank – the GDA – and your boss – Omni-Man – is a jerk. It’s a solid cover.
“Interesting,” your best friend muses, stirring her drink with a bright green straw.
“What?” you ask softly. Some of the fight and stress has drained out of you after getting your frustrations off your chest.
“I’m, like, uh… estimate? 80 percent sure your boss is in love with you.”
You sputter, covering your mouth before you can spit your drink all over yourself and the table. Wide-eyed, you drop your hand and demand, “What?! That’s ridiculous, and wrong!”
“No, no, hear me out,” she continues, dropping her chin onto her palm. “He doesn’t like you working for other people, he gets you nice things when you have to go to events together, and he likes having you close. I mean, it reads a little over possessive, but that’s more than a boss, babe.”
Your eyes bounce between her and your drink, your brain going through a slideshow of memories in which Omni-Man was a little too nice to you. Usually, he was still wearing the mask of being a complete jerk, but he had good intentions as far as you could tell. Maybe you shouldn’t have told Cecil you were worried he’d snap and take over the world someday.
“Ooh, I know that look. I’m right, right? So, tell me more about this elusive guy… Is he hot? Because if he’s not, the behavior is totally creepy.”
“He’s hot,” you admit without thinking, staring at the paper coaster beneath your glass. “Super hot. And tall.”
“Who?”
You fall off your stool, surprised by the sudden intrusion. Before you can attempt to get your feet under you or fall to the sticky bar floor, two large hands catch you beneath your arms and haul you upright.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
You pinch your eyes closed, desperately wishing that he’ll disappear or that this is a nightmare that you can wake up from. When you blink and turn to your left, you learn that neither is the case.
“Omn- Nolan,” you greet. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the area,” he answers with a shrug.
He's lying. There were no fights around here, and he lives on the other side of the city. He smiles when you narrow your eyes in a silent question, then taps your seat.
“I’ll let you get back to it.”
“No, wait,” your friend calls. “Join us.”
“He’s busy,” you interject quickly. “Right, Nolan?”
“Hey,” another man interrupts, leaning heavily on the corner of the table. “If he’s busy, I can join.”
“Sure!” Nolan greets enthusiastically. He takes the man’s hand and leans in like he’s talking to an old friend, but you know it’s more than that. You half expect to hear the man’s bones break, but he runs away before it gets that far. “He won’t be back,” Nolan tells you. “Enjoy your night.”
He walks past the table, and your friend is kicking your shin repeatedly, pleading with you to call him back. You close your eyes, well aware that it’s a terrible decision.
“Nolan?” you call. He turns without hesitation, his blue eyes dark in the low light. “You should join us.”
Five minutes later, your friend pulls the fake phone call trick and leaves you and Nolan alone at the table. Twisting your glass, you look at the table rather than him.
“What’d you say to that guy?” you wonder.
“I quoted one of your speeches,” he answers. “Scared him right off.”
“Jerk,” you scoff.
“Speaking of which,” Nolan murmurs, trailing off when two police officers carry the man from before out, his arm bruised and swollen. “What a shame.”
“Nolan,” you hiss, turning toward him.
“He needed it,” he insists. Lifting your glass to his lips, he holds your eye contact and adds, “Trust me.”
“…We need not focus on a better tomorrow,” Omni-Man tells the world. “Not when we can make improvements today.”
The crowd roars, several roses tossed onto the edge of the stage. Standing by the GDA motorcade, you watch Omni-Man scan the crowd, a fake smile on his face as he instills false hope in people young and old. Focusing on today rather than tomorrow isn’t bad advice, but the improvements that can be made in a day won’t change much. At least he’s delivering the speech well, you think.
“Uh oh,” Cecil mumbles, tapping his phone screen.
“I don’t like it when you say uh oh, Cecil,” you say, moving toward him. “What now?”
“Get him off the stage,” he instructs a nearby team.
“What?” you repeat. “Sniper? Airstrike?”
A sudden breeze nearly knocks you off your feet, but Nolan wraps his arm around your waist to steady you, glaring at Cecil.
“What did you do?” he demands.
“I- We have it under control, Nolan,” Cecil assures him. “It will be over in a matter of hours, I assure you.”
“You have six hours,” Nolan adds. “And then I take you to front lines.”
Cecil pales but doesn’t say anything more before Nolan launches off the ground. You shriek, wrapping your arms around his neck as the ground grows farther from you, the crowd blurring together.
“Nolan,” you whimper.
He chuckles, an arm around your waist as he passes through a cloud. You press your face to his shoulder, your eyes closed as you cling to him.
“What’d he do?” you ask, trying to focus on anything other than being so high and, of course, why Nolan decided to bring you along.
“Started a war,” Nolan answers. “Should be fine. Just like you are.”
“I’m only fine until I start falling,” you argue.
“You really think I would let that happen?” You don’t answer, and Nolan murmurs, “Ouch.”
“I- I don’t know what to think,” you admit against him.
“Then look,” he encourages.
You shake your head, your arms tightening around him. In return, Nolan wraps both of his arms around you, carefully lowering you until your feet are on his. It feels like standing, but you know you’re not. Your fate, your future, your life, it’s all in Nolan’s hands right now. The same guy you called an a-hole less than a month ago.
“I’ve got you,” Nolan promises. “Look.”
Carefully, slowly, you lift your head from his chest, then open your eyes. Blinking, all you can see is his suit. Exhaling, you turn your head, your eyes widening when you see the fluffy white cloud tops extending in every direction.
“Wow,” you breathe out. “It’s beautiful.”
Nolan isn’t looking at the clouds when he agrees, “Beautiful. I never get used to it.”
“I… I’m sorry for the things I said,” you confess, tipping your chin to see him. “We’re all doing this job for the first time. Doesn’t mean I should take everything out on you.”
“Are you saying all this because I’m holding you up here?” Nolan checks.
“Well, I do want to stay on your good side right now,” you admit with a smile. “But I mean it. I’ve been hard on you because I was being hard on myself. It wasn’t fair.”
Nolan shrugs, smiling when you bury your face against him again. “I didn’t mind it,” he says, rubbing your back.
“Didn’t mind me being awful to you?” you check.
“Yeah. I actually kind of liked it.”
“Freak.”
Nolan considers pretending to drop you but finds that your arms around him is too enticing to miss out on.
“Who’s the bouquet from?” the shadow darkening your office inquires.
“Those are for you,” you murmur, scanning a report. “But you don’t have an office, so they got delivered here.”
“Ah. Well, you can have them.”
“Selfless.”
Nolan stretches, his fingers brushing your shoulder as he grunts. “Come on,” he urges. “We’re taking a break.”
“I can’t,” you reply. “Sorry.”
Nolan nods, then grabs the already dented rod of your chair and pulls you backward into the hall. A passing GDA agent steps out of his way and then runs.
“Fine,” you sigh. “You win. What’s the break?”
“I was thinking lunch in Paris,” he answers.
“That sounds like a date, Omni-Man. Not a break.”
He nods, then suggests, “We can multi-task.”
“We fly once and we’re dating?” you inquire.
“Are you going to keep being a brat or answer the question?”
Your brows lift at his tone; you want to push him, but lunch in Paris does sound nice. She was right, you realize suddenly. He’s in love with me.
Nolan narrows his eyes at you, then pushes you back into the office. “Are you going to make this weird?” he checks.
“Depends. Does it mean anything?”
“It means as much as you want it to,” he answers.
You stand, offer your hand, and stipulate, “We’ll see how you kiss first.”
“Forward,” Nolan murmurs.
“And you breaking a guy’s hand for talking to me was totally normal,” you deadpan.
“I guess we’re both jerks, then.”
Maybe that’s not so bad. Especially the both part.
🃁 synopsis: Years after Nolan left to add Earth to Viltrum's empire, an emergency sends you on a mission to find him. You don't expect Nolan to understand that it wasn't your fault or to ask you to stay. Here, you could become gods.
🃁 cw/word count: fluff, underlying angst, Nolan kind of threatens r, for the purpose of this fic Debbie is dead sorry Debbie. pictures from pinterest. 1.8k+ words
🃁 h's correspondence: I started writing this as a possible start to a series, so if there is any interest in that, lmk <3
🃁 masterlist
Omni-Man didn’t anticipate fighting a self-proclaimed quote-unquote enhanced human when he left his home this morning. Yet, hours later, he’s hovering high above a forest near the equator, dodging punches from a jet pack-laden homo sapien. He sighs, giving the man a chance to get in a lucky hit. Omni-Man moves back, then catches himself in mid-air, tensing his muscles to remain vertical in the sky.
“Was that supposed to hurt?” he asks flatly. “It didn’t.”
“Less talk,” the man whose name Nolan didn’t bother to remember seethes. “More fighting.”
“Is that what you call what you’ve been doing?” Nolan asks with a laugh. “Genuinely, I’ve been tickled more painfully than this. Just give up.”
The man cracks his knuckles, then moves his hand to the joystick on his jetpack. Nolan hadn’t recognized the device when the man challenged him to a stratospheric fight — it was neither government nor GDA, but sourcing or building technology isn’t as hard as it used to be for the average man. Omni-Man prepares himself to catch the man when he launches forward, but a white blur enters the airspace and knocks the flying man down, dragging him to the forest floor, before he can move toward Nolan again.
Dropping his chin, Nolan watches the trees sway as the newcomer challenges the altruistic scientist. Or was he a doctor? Nolan shrugs and chooses to watch the fight rather than think about his opponent.
“That was another option,” he mumbles, crossing his arms when the white blur breaks past the tree canopies once more. When the person and the crest on their chest comes into view, Nolan pushes his arms back, flying toward the familiar suit before he throws a punch that lands perfectly against the newcomer’s jaw.
Flying through the sky, you keep your eyes on your destination. The mentor that taught you to fly didn’t exactly cover what to do when your destination is moving towards you too. Or how to avoid a hit you know is coming before a hardened fist collides with your face. You grunt at the contact, flipping in the air before you recover. No one thought to train the lab rats how to fly. Or fight. Or survive, for that matter.
“Wait!” you exclaim, raising a hand to the Viltrumite in the O suit as he prepares to swing again. Your jaw aches as you plead, “Wait. Please.”
“Did they send you to kill me?” Omni-Man demands, his hands curled tightly into fists. “How many of you are there?”
Inhaling deeply, you taste blood. You spit the result of his punch toward the ground below, then smile. You’re sure it looks as guilty as you feel. “About that… I kinda- sorta…”
“What?” Omni-Man presses. “Get to the point.”
You rush to answer, your words coming out in a jumbled mess of, “Iaccidentallyblewuptheplanet.” When you finish, you hold your breath, watching his face.
Omni-Man blinks twice, then asks, “You… you blew up Viltrum?”
Nodding hesitantly, you release your hands, letting your arms hang loosely at your sides.
Nolan laughs suddenly, curling in on himself slightly, his cape fluttering in the wind. “Oh,” he breathes out dramatically, “I always knew you were bat-”
“Easy,” you cut in. “I’m aware of what you think of me. Look, it was an accident. I got some people evacuated in time… but I couldn’t stop it.”
“The whole planet’s gone?” Nolan clarifies.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Nolan shrugs, looking out at the horizon. “I haven’t been there in over twenty years; I’m not feeling a direct loss.”
“Great display of compassion,” you deadpan.
“If I remember correctly,” he hums, inching closer to you with his shoulders pulled back, “you weren’t exactly eager to save our people before, either.”
“That was different,” you argue. “Look, I’m not here to argue with you. You deserved to know that Viltrum is gone. The World Betterment Committee is no more. No one is coming to check in or to stop you. Make a life here if you want. You’re free.”
Nolan glances down at the planet beneath you, his eyes searching a distant skyline with the same calculated evaluation he used to choose Earth in the first place.
“What happened?” he asks. “On Viltrum.”
You exhale, turning at his side to face the skyline. “More than I can explain in an afternoon.”
The Viltrumite leaders never gave you a chance to decide what you would do, choosing to rob you of a choice in your fate. You were deemed an incompetent fighter early in life, but your mind was considered to be worth something. On a planet that valued physical strength over mental acumen, you were glad simply to be valuable enough to stay alive. That’s how you ended up working for the World Betterment Committee, using data and calculations to track the soldiers sent to other planets. The Viltrum Empire expanded daily, your folders growing, filling, and being replaced faster than you imagined.
Until the day that everything changed. It had started like every other day, a burning star visible beyond Viltrum’s sky, your fellow citizens flying to and from their positions.
You arrived at your post to find your desk had been cleared and people were watching you, whispering to one another and failing to hide their interest in your arrival. A soldier whose name you didn’t know informed you of your “promotion.” As he showed you to a private sector, you begged him to let you speak to someone in charge.
“I can’t do this!” you’d argued vehemently. “I track things, I read stuff. I’m not a scientist!”
“You’re being asked to find a way,” he answered robotically.
“I don’t know how.”
He didn’t stop, using a gold device to open a door and usher you in. “No better time to learn.”
“You don’t understand,” you insisted. “If I get a calculation wrong — and I will — the consequences will be- be unimaginable.”
The soldier nodded toward something behind you before he closed the door. A team of scientists and Viltrumite leaders you thought left the planet years before greeted you. Their presence did little to encourage you that any of this was a good idea.
“Please don’t go through with this,” you pled. “I can’t do this.”
“We have to,” one of them whispered, laying a hand on your shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
And it had been. Until you were left in charge of a project and ended a planet with vast reach, an empire extended across galaxies.
“What about you?” you pose, swinging your legs over the edge of the barn roof you’re sitting on. “Why stay on Earth? Why call yourself Nolan and wait so long to do what the committee sent you to do?”
“Nolan was a common enough name,” he responds with a shrug. “A reminder of home, maybe.”
“Common was the goal… So, what’s with the costume then?”
Nolan stutters, looking down at his body with wide eyes, like he’s just realizing he’s essentially playing dress up to impress and soothe a population he has no real care for. “Uh, it’s my suit,” he explains. “When I’m not Nolan, when I’m a superhero, I’m Omni-Man?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, waving. “Omni-Man? You come here, become a superhero, and call yourself all-man? You’re quite literally an alien!”
Nolan’s jaw tightens. “I needed them to trust me. I adapted to their customs, which involved this display.”
“You adapted?” You know that Nolan wouldn’t do that without help. He couldn’t do it alone, but you’re under the impression he only did it because of whatever — or whoever — led the way for him. Stretching your arms behind you, you ask, “What’s her name?”
The so-called hero beside you doesn’t answer, looking down at the countryside below.
“Oh,” you murmur, straightening. You consider laying a hand on Nolan’s arm, then remember how hard he punched you before and decide not to touch him. “I’m sorry. Truly.”
Nolan shakes his head, ignoring your question and your sympathy. “What are you really doing here?” he inquires.
“Just passing through. There are a few soldiers from the committee still working in this galaxy and the next one. I figured they deserved to know that there’s no home to go back to… no one to answer to if they decide to settle rather than conquer.”
“You’re leaving?”
Turning away Nolan, you counter, “What else would I do? What, stay here with you, put on a cape and pretend to be a hero?” You stand, gazing at this galaxy’s sun. “I killed my own people, Nolan. It’s time I answer for that.”
Nolan doesn’t reply, but he lifts a hand and grasps your wrist. When you tug away from him, his fingers tighten to keep you close.
“That’s ridiculous,” he snaps. “We’re Viltrumites. People, even our own, die. Running is futile.”
“You really don’t care that our home is gone,” you realize softly. “Well, I do. I should have done more, tried harder to convince them that I couldn’t do what they asked me to.”
“Sounds like it’s not your fault,” Nolan interjects. “Not that it matters. It’s over.”
“Nolan, you punched me when I got here because you thought they sent me,” you remind him. “Just because you have an issue with the committee doesn’t mean I can accept this. I- I’m guilty of-”
“They made you do it,” Nolan interrupts firmly. He stands, invading your space easily and keeping you close. “It still doesn’t matter, but if you’re this worried about it, admit that you did all you could to avoid it.”
“It- it’s not that easy.”
“Because you have too much emotion.”
“Maybe you don’t have enough,” you argue.
Nolan’s lips twitch. “There it is,” he murmurs. “The fight.”
Your eyes drop to Nolan’s cape where it flutters against his legs. “What will you do?” you wonder.
“I don’t know. Guess I could become a god or something.” He lifts his free hand, hooking a finger beneath your chin to lift your eyes to his. “You should stay.”
“And be a goddess?”
“Better fate than throwing yourself into the sun.”
“I wasn’t going to do something that extreme.”
“Stay,” he suggests. “It’s a good enough home.”
“I don’t know,” you hum, meeting his eyes. “The company seems questionable.”
“You blew up your last neighbor.”
Groaning, you drop your forehead to his sternum.
“I won’t make you stay,” Nolan says. He’s lying — he knows it and you suspect it.
When Nolan releases your hand to prove his point, you catch his fingers and tap his palm.
“I don’t even remember what I learned about Earth before you left. What would I do here?” you wonder.
Nolan smiles, hovering off the barn to show you to his home. “Something far away from explosives.”
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” you remind him.
“Good!” he applauds, shifting his fingers to hold your hand rather than your wrist. “Keep that mindset when we become gods.”
bf!sam who refuses to go to be without a good night kiss
Leaving the bathroom, you hummed a quiet tune as you headed down the hallway to your bedroom. Walking in, you found Sam sitting up against the headboard, lazily scrolling through his phone.
He perked up at the sound of your footsteps, his broad shoulders instantly relaxing at the sight of you clad in your soft pajamas. Without a word, he set his phone down on the bedside table and shifted his massive frame over, lifting the heavy duvet to create a perfect space for you.
"Took you long enough," he grumbled softly, though the faint, amused smile on his lips completely gave away his affection.
Giggling, you dove for the bed, instantly sliding under the warm blankets to curl right up beside him. You let out a content sigh, lazily wrapping your arms around his broad chest and nuzzling your cheek against his warm bicep. In return, Sam cuddled back immediately, his long arms wrapping securely around your smaller frame to gently cradle you against him.
"Night, Sammy," you murmured, closing your eyes as you prepared to drift off.
There was a pause. Then, complete silence.
Your brows furrowed slightly. Usually, he'd give you a groggy reply, or kiss the top of your head, or at least let out a sleepy hum. Opening your eyes curiously, you looked up to find his hazel eyes staring right back at you, slightly narrowed, his lips faintly tugged down into a small pout.
You blinked up at him, a bit amused. "Sam? What's wrong?"
"You're forgetting something, sweetheart," he murmured, his grip tightening just a fraction around your waist, anchoring you to his chest. He didn't move an inch, looking down at you with a stubborn, completely devoted look that made it clear he wasn't planning on letting you sleep just yet.
A fond smile broke across your face as you realized he was holding out. "Are you seriously refusing to go to sleep without your goodnight kiss?"
"I am," Sam admitted without a shred of hesitation, a soft, boyish honesty in his voice. He nudged his chin down, leaning close enough that his breath fanned over your lips. "No kiss, no sleep. That's the rule."
Shaking your head at how easily the giant hunter melted into a soft, clingy mess behind closed doors, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his. Sam let out a contented sigh against your mouth, deeply consuming the kiss and holding you tight, completely satisfied now that his favorite nightly ritual was complete.
✶ Sneak Content : A considerably more noticeable emphasis on Conquest, Mark Grayson, Deborah Grayson, and Amber. Mostly fluff / comfort theme. Headcannons & NSFW scenarios will be posted later.
✶ Synopsis : How the characters from Invincible would act if you were their partner. Also, heavy headcanon, I've probably strayed from something similar to the canon more than once. ¿ Sorry ? No.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Nolan Grayson ,,
You were one of the first people he met and saw when he began his mission to infiltrate Earth and embrace human culture. So, methodically and carefully, he attached himself to you, learning everything from your eyes.
Nolan remembered the time you mentioned liking flowers. Such a small, insignificant thing? He thought, no. He couldn't give you that as a human gift. So, with his immense strength, Nolan gave you a fully grown apple tree, pulled from the ground, roots and all.
Your body heat completely fascinates him, so he always seeks his proclaimed place behind your body, resting his head on your neck and intertwining his arms around your torso.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Mark Grayson ,,
He always makes sure to brighten your day with a bouquet of flowers, from your favorites to the most beautiful ones that match your eyes. He was never known for bringing a single, solitary flower. No, that's not Mark. He'll always bring you a dozen, or at least three flowers.
Mark would stand out in the relationship for being a thoughtful young man, even though his bad schedule or a couple of missed dates while saving the world might work against him. Did you message him at the wrong time, in the middle of a fight? Mark already replied and attached a photo to the message. "Think I can beat him ? :P"
He would always see an opportunity to ask you out, insist that you lie down on his chest, and slowly fly around the sky with your head on his heart, listening to his heartbeat as you talk to him about your day.
In his first missions as Invincible, Mark would always appear at your window with his suit torn or some noticeable scratches. Why? So that you could treat his wounds or fix his suit. More than once it was a matter of doing both things. "I just wanted to see you."
Mark will have a habit of resting his head on your shoulder or lap, depending on how tired he is that day. He'll lean against you for a bit and let his considerable weight fall against your body, seeking your warmth and touch. Bonus points if you give him scalp massages.
He likes to read his favorite comic aloud to you, although he always ends up stumbling over his words because he notices how you stare at him, making him nervous and causing him to forget to move on to the next panel. "Don't laugh at me, I always read well. Your eyes make me nervous, that's all."
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Deborah Grayson ,,
Deborah knew she would take her time getting to know you, but she never imagined your company would be so pleasant and even comforting for her own heart. Without even realizing it, you helped her overcome her insecurities after all the trouble and sadness Nolan left behind. "I didn't think I could allow myself to open my heart to someone so quickly. Thank you."
When Deborah introduced you to Mark, her face lit up with relief at the positive reaction of her only and dearest son. She was so pleased that he accepted you so readily and love you the same way she loves you.
Weekends are the best part of the relationship with Deborah, where she strokes your hair and pulls you closer to the bed with both arms, rendering your attempts to get up useless, if they even exist. "Stay a little longer ... Today is my day off."
She heard you came home tired from work, complained about your boss and his demands about paperwork. What better time to open a bottle of wine, watch a movie, and order some takeout? Deborah had everything planned. You're the only one missing from the table.
"Just try it. It's delicious, I swear." Deborah really enjoys cooking with you, especially when it comes to cooking typical Korean food at home, she always makes sure you try typical food from her home country and ask your opinion about it. Her comfort food would be Kimchi Jjigae with a hint of smoky spice.
I am so convinced that Deborah would call you "dear" or "honey" with incredible frequency, so much so that there are times when you would forget your own name. And it's even better if she calls you affectionately while you two are asleep, because her sleepy voice would be the equivalent of touching heaven.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Eve Wilkins ,,
Her favorite activity to do with you is to climb onto the roof of a building or house, and observe the twinkling stars in silence, while naming the constellations and seeing who can find the most. It ends up being more romantic when Eve plays music from her phone.
Eve loves staying at your house to sleep over or just hang out there; she's always quite homey and helpful in your home. "Do you think your mother would like chocolate-filled brownies? I made a couple."
In her room, Eve owns a hardcover book, with a title made by hand with different magazines and letters: It's reads "a timeline with you." Where there are various printed photographs of the two of you together on your different dates and walks.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Rex Sloan ,,
Behind your back and eyes, Rex has started therapy and is actively improving himself so he won't be a bad partner for you — His worst fear is that he himself will ruin this opportunity to be with you, so he prefers to improve and be a decent lover worthy of your attention.
I'm absolutely certain that the moment you started dating Rex, he began posting about you on all his active social media accounts and showing you off to his entire social circle. "This is my partner. I definitely hit the jackpot."
He really enjoys listening to you talk, appreciates that you trust him so much, and is always actively seeking out those kinds of deep conversations with you — A couple of times, when you vent and feel distressed, Rex instinctively cries with you too, since he understands that kind of distress.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Katherine Cha ♡ Dupli-Kate ,,
A relationship with Katherine turns out to be slow and careful in its evolution, mostly due to her need to maintain an emotional distance from people, This will be more noticeable if you are human, or do not possess some kind of immortality / inability to die — So, more than once, both of you enjoy each other's silent company.
"We all love you." Whenever Katherine is on a mission, she always makes sure to spend time with you through a clone of herself. Her most consistent and affectionate clone with you is Kate number 8. "But, I love you more." The clone says affectionately.
More than once, Katherine uses her powers to create clones of herself and launch a massive kissing attack on you — No part of your face or body is safe from her lips and a quick smooch. Temple? Kissed. Eyebrows? Kissed. Edge of your chin? Kissed. The best experience is when lipstick is involved in her kissing attack.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Allen The Alien ,,
Every time Allen is outside Earth's orbit, he makes sure to bring you an intergalactic gift, from a small piece of the moon to an exotic flower from an unknown, unstudied planet. Oh ... The flower couldn't withstand the change in gravity.
He likes to talk about you with Nolan, always mentions that you are one of the brightest and most peaceful things that ever happened to him, mentioning that not even the stars compare to the beauty of your eyes and bright smile.
When you dared to kiss him for the first time, you could feel Allen's pointy ears begin to flutter gently and his hands carefully grip your hips. "It felt good. Do it again."
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Amber Bennett ,,
"Let's dance." The most frequent and comfortable homedate for both of you is to be at Amber's home and listen to music together; she always insists on dancing barefoot in the middle of her room. "Come on, silly, don't be shy." More than once, Amber places her arms around your neck and gently kisses your lips while dancing together.
Amber is the kind of partner who invites you to go for walks in spring or summer, visiting second-hand markets or craft fairs. What better romantic date than visiting the independent artists' fair and supporting local entrepreneurs? I can see that Amber always buys herself a beautifully hand-painted, handmade mug.
Normally, when both of you have a week of exams, or some pretty tough practical work for school, you two get together at home and stay overnight, having a little loving slumber party. "Shh!" You two probably stay up until the early hours, watching movies or laughing silently under the sheets, while exchanging occasional kisses. "Your mom will hate me if she hears us laughing at this hour."
I think it's possible that Amber will do some internship or free service at a home for cats and animals, occasionally sending you pictures of the kittens or pit bulls she takes care of — She's invited you to participate in the activity many times! In her room, there are photos of the two of you together, holding cats or dogs.
"I can't read your mind. If I could, I'd prefer you tell me to my face." Amber will always be the type of partner who prefers to talk things out if there's a problem in the relationship. Is something bothering you in the relationship, or do you just want to vent? Amber is there, listening attentively and helping.
Being of African descent, you see Amber taking care of and treating her hair; a smile adorns her lips as she notices you watching her carefully comb and wash her hair. You love watching her put on her bonnet! It looks divine on her — It's a coral sea green color. "Do you think my hair would look good with more volume and less definition?"
사과 Additional characters ! ✶ k0meqp_
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Conquest ,,
Even though it's something new, perhaps even inferior from his perspective, Conquest can't help but notice how his heart beats with a different emotion every time he touches you; as if it were his nature, his touch becomes soft against your face, adoring the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers. "I do not understand how you're not afraid of what makes me be this way."
The way your hair frames your face is one of the purest and most beautiful sights he's seen in a long time, you find it endearing how Conquest observes you whenever he can — Many times he hasn't slept, so he can analyze in detail and commit to memory the symmetry of your lips and the endlessness of your eyelashes.
"Killing has always come easily to me. But now, I find myself drawn to see how I live for the first time, thanks to you." Ever since you convinced him on the first try to stay at your house, Conquest has been completely helpful and devoted to your existence, observing every detail and getting used to what it's like to do something he never did but desired so much.
He never had a favorite food, much less could he remember the last time he ate something someone else cooked. But now, surprisingly, every time you cook him something, that dish becomes his favorite. He always makes sure not to leave any residue; the plate looks clean every time Conquest finishes eating your food.
"I love that your skin is ignorant of violence." Conquest loves the size difference between you two. He's started to develop a habit of holding your hand and wrapping it completely around his own, caressing your skin so carefully that he doesn't break you just by touching you. "I couldn't bear the thought of seeing your hand calloused from all the destruction you'd caused ... But, it would be exciting too."
Chocolate? Flowers? Very insignificant for him — He doesn't understand the human need to give each other gifts on specific or special dates, but he tries. The gift that Conquest gave you to declare his dystopian love was the beating heart of an extinct alien race.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Thokk ♡ Battle Beast ,,
He would be fascinated by your belly, especially if you have a curvy or fat body build; unconsciously, Thokk would also find himself gently massaging your stomach or chest skin, pretending to be a domestic cat. You've heard him purr subtly more than once.
For a formidable, persevering, and bloodthirsty warrior, I see it as very possible that Thokk will exercise with you more than once, whether you are both training, him teaching you self-defense or you serve as extra weight in his push-ups. "Don't ever think I'll be easy with you just because you have my affection guaranteed."
Thokk would silently allow you to style his hair and braid it in different ways, using various methods and lengths. Sometimes he would undo them so you could continue stroking his unruly mane.
── ( ✶ ) ᰍ̠ ⠀｡ Cecil Stedman ,,
He met you at work and your relationship was completely professional and nothing more at the beginning, although it gradually evolved, Cecil found himself unconsciously prolonging physical contact with you as much as possible — There was always the gentle caress of his hand against your shoulder while you worked immersed in your desk.
Cecil had a habit of ordering a black, bitter coffee for himself, gradually asking his assistant to start remembering your preferred, personalized coffee request. "You work hard, you need to stay hydrated and focused properly."
Despite not admitting any romantic feelings towards you, Cecil began inviting you out more often or to have something to eat at his office — Whenever you two went out together, Cecil would offer you his arm to hold onto and walk comfortably.
my mᥲstᥱrᥣιst | @k0meqp ─ do not repost, copy, steal or translate to other platform without my permission, I do not allow to train AI or feed my stories to any chatbot. ✶
$ log - steve rogers thinks it’s the best time to confess when the both of you are drunk!
$ warn --sfw --gn!reader --cutie-drunk!steve --fluff
$ wc -w 1.7k
$ cd masterlist
$ echo "i think i messed up the timings, ignore that" > authors-note.txt
$ tag @twentytomidnight !
$ echo “lmk if you want to be tagged for newer posts !!1!1” > authors-note.txt
The invitation had said "Evening Gathering | You've all worked hard this month" in Steve's handwriting. It was delivered in person, one each, with the slightly formal energy of a man who had rehearsed this.
"I wanted to do something for the team," he'd said. "All of you. Everyone here."
The room had stared at him with the most deadpan look ever. Natasha said, very carefully: "Steve, you asked me for Y/N's Spotify."
"I asked for good music."
"You sent me a screenshot."
"I like those artists."
The silence that followed had a texture to it. Bucky was examining the middle distance. Sam had the expression of a man composing a speech he'd been waiting to give.
"I love this team equally," Steve said, with great dignity.
"Sure," said Sam.
"Deeply and equally."
"Absolutely."
"Every single one of you."
"We know, Cap."
Thor arrived forty minutes later with the mead, which was fine, it was a mild batch. It was completely under control — and then somewhere around eleven-thirty, mid-conversation with Clint about something Steve could no longer entirely track, he heard himself say:
"I'm going to put Y/N on all the easy missions. They shouldn't be putting themselves in random danger. So stupid. I'm literally here."
Clint stopped talking, and Steve looked at his cup, regaining his slightly buzzed words.
"The — team," he said. "Lighter workload, all across the board. We've earned it. I look out for you all."
Clint looked at him for a very long time. "Sure, Cap," he said.
By ten o'clock the party had found its groove.
Steve had sourced actual 1940s-label rum from somewhere that Bucky kept looking at like it owed him money. Natasha had taken the aux cord without asking and nobody had argued because her taste was impeccable and she knew it.
The living room had that quality that only good parties get to. The one with a specific warmth of people who actually like each other: jackets on chairbacks, kitchen permanently occupied, conversations that kept branching into better ones.
You'd had two rum and Cokes at a reasonable pace. That was the plan and you'd stuck to it, because you knew exactly how you worked: two drinks and you hit the sweet spot, the one where everything was funnier and warmer and you were absolutely the most charming version of yourself.
Then it was water and snacks and coasting on the feeling until home time.
The snacks situation, however, had been grim. Someone had eaten all of Wanda's dish before you got to it and there were exactly four crisps left in the bowl by midnight sharp and you'd made a catastrophic error in not eating properly before you came out.
Which was fine, not a problem at all. You had chicken selects at home and the Deliveroo app was right there and you were going to handle this like an adult.
You'd ordered at twelve forty-five. The confirmation had arrived with the kind of dopamine hit that cut straight through the rum glow. Estimated delivery: one thirty. Which meant you needed to leave.
The evening had been good, genuinely — Steve had laughed, the real version. The one that went all the way up to his eyes, and once it had been at something you'd said and you'd had to find a suddenly fascinating point on the opposite wall. Good party, a great one even. Time to go.
You find your jacket on the hook by the door, get both arms in successfully, consider this a personal triumph, and Steve appears in the hallway like something conjured.
"You're leaving."
"Yeah." You pull your jacket straight. "It's almost one, I've got —"
"You're leaving."
Steve says it again like the first time. He's looking at you with an expression you've never quite seen on him before — not upset, not annoyed, just genuinely, sincerely baffled. Similar to the way he looks when someone explains a piece of modern technology that shouldn't work but does.
You clock the slight unfocus in his eyes and mentally revise your understanding of his evening. Right, Thor had been here earlier. Thor had brought otherworldly gifts.
"Steve, have you had the mead?"
"A little," he says, in a tone that suggests the mead has a different definition of a little than the rest of the universe.
"Okay." You soften slightly. "It's a great party. I just need to get home."
"Why?"
"Because I'm hungry."
He stares at you.
"There's food here."
"There are four crisps, Steve, I counted them, and someone got to Wanda's dish before me which was a tragedy, and I have chicken selects coming to my door in —" you check your phone, "— thirty-one minutes and I need to be there."
He keeps staring. He is doing the thing where he's listening very hard and something's not adding up.
"Chicken," he says.
"Selects."
A pause.
"What is a select?"
"It's a —" You stop. This isn't the conversation. "It doesn't matter, it's a chicken thing, the point is I ordered them and the driver won't wait and last time there was a fox situation —"
"You keep smiling at me."
The gear-change is so abrupt that it takes you a full two seconds to catch up.
"Sorry?"
"At the party." Steve says it patiently, like he's been sitting on this all evening and has decided now — almost one, hallway, you with one hand on the door — is the correct time to raise it. "You keep smiling when I talk to you. You smile more than —" he frowns slightly, "— it's more than polite."
Your face does something you hope is unreadable.
"I'm a smiley person."
"You weren't smiling at the crisp bowl."
"The crisp bowl had let me down personally."
Steve makes a small sound that in a less earnest man would be called a hm. He's looking at you with that same puzzled sincerity, working through it. You recognise suddenly and with some alarm that he is not going to let this drop because it genuinely doesn't make sense to him.
He does not leave things that don't make sense.
"The film," he says.
"What film?"
"You invited me to a film. Twice."
"The projector broke —"
"The projector broke after twenty minutes and you said we should just restart it another time." His brow furrows. "Sam said that was — he said something about it. He was wrong but he said it."
You can guess exactly what Sam said.
"Steve," you start.
"And the medical bay."
Oh no.
"You were injured —"
"Nat didn't come." He says it simply, not accusatory, just filing the data point. "Nat and I have been friends longer. But you came and you brought the — the thing, the sandwich, from the place I mentioned one time —"
"I was just being —"
"You remembered the place." He looks at you steadily. "I mentioned it once. Weeks before."
The hallway is extremely small. When did the hallway get this small?
Your phone buzzes. You look down at it with the desperation of a person sighting land.
"My order's been picked up," you say.
"Okay."
"So I really —"
"Do you like me?"
He says it so plainly. No performance in it, no weight he's trying to put on it — just Steve, slightly mead-soft around the edges, asking a question he clearly thinks has an obvious answer that everyone has access to except him.
And the thing is — you're two rum and Cokes in. You're warm and a bit golden and your defences are not at full operational capacity and the chicken selects are minutes away and he's looking at you like that —
"I like you," you say, and immediately add, "I like lots of people."
"Right." He nods slowly. "But the sandwich."
"The sandwich was just —"
"From the place I mentioned once."
"I have a good memory."
"You forgot Nat's birthday."
You did forget Nat's birthday. She had made you do her dry-cleaning for a month.
"That's —" You pull your jacket tighter, which achieves nothing. "Steve. You're a little drunk and I'm a little hungry and this is a very weird conversation to be having in a hallway."
"I know." He doesn't move. "Do you like me though?"
He means it so simply. That's the thing about him, and that’s always the thing. He's not playing an angle, he's not building to anything, he just actually wants to know because it actually matters to him and his face is doing absolutely nothing to hide that.
Your phone buzzes again. Probably an app notification. You don't check it.
"Ask me again tomorrow," you say. "When you're sober."
Steve looks at you for a long moment.
"Will you still be honest tomorrow?"
The question lands somewhere it probably shouldn't.
"Go drink some water," you say, and your voice comes out softer than you meant it to. "I'll text you when I'm home."
Something shifts in his face. Small, almost imperceptible.
"You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't have to."
Another pause. The music drifts through from the living room, something slow Nat put on after midnight. Steve looks at you the way he'd looked at you when you'd laughed at the pigeon joke thing and he'd thought you weren't watching —
"Okay," he says quietly, like it means more than the word.
He steps aside, so you can get through the door.
You are three floors down and in the lobby before you realise you're smiling. You press your hand to your face like you can physically remove it.
Twenty-six minutes. You can hold it together for twenty-six minutes, then your phone buzzes.
Are you getting home safe !!!
You stare at it, then you text back:
yes. drink the water steve
A pause. Then:
Which water ?>!
the tap. the glass by the sink.
Ok
And then, after a moment that is just long enough:
The sandwich place was really good, by the way. you have good taste ][#
You are going to absolutely combust in this lobby.
go to bed steve
Ok. Goodnight
You watch the screen. You know him, and you know he's going to —
The pigeon thing was funnier than sam said right ???
You laugh so hard the night security guard looks up from his desk.
significantly funnier. WATER. BED.
Ok ok. Goodnight
You pocket your phone. The cold air outside hits you and you tip your head back for a second, just a second, and let yourself feel the shape of it — the evening, the hallway, the way he'd said will you still be honest tomorrow like he already suspected the answer and was quietly terrified of it.
vampire!irving who’s intoxicated by the smell of your blood and also by how your genuine love toward him feels, he isn’t sure which one is superior in his eyes.
he has to hold himself back from piercing your skin with his teeth to taste at least one drop of your blood whenever you hug him, to explain why to himself why he’s so attracted to it in the first place, why he’s so attracted to you.
apart of him doesn’t want you to be like him, living through days that feels so endless to him ever since he can remember, but maybe if he does he could have someone to spend the rest of his eternity with.
og noir and reader watching cartoons and doodling together 🐑
parallel play
a/n: this sounds like a DREAM.
info: gender-neutral reader, artist!reader if you squint hard enough.
ᯓ✦ you had a decently long day so when irving dragged you home crayons and paper in hand, you couldn’t help but smile.
ᯓ✦ you both drew away while here and there you’d catch him look up to the cartoons he placed on your tv before looking back down, sometimes even looking at you before quickly looking away when you made eye contact with him.
ᯓ✦ after every page you two would finish you both would show them off before irving motioned his hands is if asking to keep yours, and after the first time you just hand them over without even being asked, you know how much they’ll mean to him in the long run.
ᯓ✦ he’d especially keep the ones where you’d drew you both together, maybe because he loves how you capture yourself and how you also capture him in your style, he thinks it’s a way to look into your mind while it’s on paper.
ᯓ✦ irving even urges you to keep his which you of course do, how can you not? you absolutely love his drawings, whether it was a mix of drawings of buster beaver, some of his other animal friends, and you, you keep them all!
ᯓ✦ you even have a corner of your wall inside your room dedicated to the drawings you gained that same night and the next coming nights where you two decide to have a sorta drawing date with another to destress from that days activities.
ᯓ✦ irving can’t help but enjoy himself with times with you, watching cartoons and showing off silly drawings you two make, he’s in heaven.
The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulances cast a steady, rhythmic glow across the damp pavement, illuminating the paramedics as they finally loaded the family into the back of the emergency vehicles. the hunt was over. The family was safe.
you and Sam were sitting in the backseat of the Impala, the door cracked open just an inch to let the cool night air circulate. Even though the adrenaline was finally fading, the biting wind was starting to settle into your bones, making your shoulders tense up.
Sam noticed immediately. He shifted his massive frame, his hazel eyes dropping down to look at the way you were subtly shaking.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft and grounding after the chaos of the night. "Come here. You're freezing."
Before you could even reply, he gently hooked his hands under your arms and guided you over the console, pulling you directly onto his lap. you let out a quiet sigh of relief, instantly soaking in the massive amount of body heat radiating off him.
Sam didn't stop there. He unzipped his own thick, oversized Carhartt hoodie, spreading the heavy fabric wide. He pulled you flush against his chest, tucking your arms inside, and then carefully pulled the zipper all the way back up to your chin effectively sealing the both of you inside the massive jacket together.
"Better, sweetheart?" he whispered, his long arms wrapping securely around your waist from the outside of the fabric, anchoring you completely to him.
"Much better," you breathed, resting your head back against his shoulder. you could feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart right against your back. he rested his chin on the top of your head, completely content to just hold you like a prize while you both watched the flashing lights outside.
It was entirely peaceful, a rare, quiet haven in the middle of their chaotic lives.
dean paused, adjusting the rearview mirror to look into the backseat. He stared for a flat three seconds at the sight of his giant little brother practically swallowing you whole inside a single hoodie.
dean scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes so hard it looked painful. "Oh, for the love of are you guys serious? Right in the backseat of my car?" He shook his head, twisting the key in the ignition. The Impala rumbled to life, the engine roaring confidently into the night.
Sam just let out a soft, low chuckle against your hair, his grip tightening around you defensively as Dean shifted into drive and peeled away from the scene, leaving the flashing lights far behind.
a/n: wrote this quick don’t mind the grammar mistakes 😞 just a little something
I looove your writing! Could I request batfam x alien!reader? Reader's real job is to observe earth. Reader is soo curious about anything earth-related. The bat puts a gps tracker on Reader because reader easily gets distracted at random things for many hours and then they get lost (a stray cat, a lamp, a dumpster, a trash bag, a plant, an umbrella, etc.)
"Human, what is this? Human, what is that?"
(I might be requesting more alien!reader, who knows👀 hope u dont mind)
݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ Space Girl...Show Me The Stars ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Warnings: None! Fluff. No pronouns used for reader, established relationship. No use of y/n.
Note: In canon, I'm a Koriand'r x Dick truther, so this is just me projecting onto the rest of the batfamily...yes, yes...of course....I left it up to interpretation of how alien you really are, only slightly mentioning a humanoid form...but tbh, that could be anything. And go for it! Request away!!
!!------------------------------------!!
Bruce Wayne
Being the only 'non-enhanced' member of the Justice League, as well as his vague dislike of magic and meta-humans, makes Bruce more than a little sensitive towards anyone whose biggest speciality isn't their mental illness.
Of course, he is; he's Batman, it's in his very nature to be suspicious even with all his experience.
He does all he can to gather information on your species...while you do the same, it seems. Again, since he's the 'most human' you're always bombarding him with questions about his habits and ways.
He tries to redirect you towards J'onn J'ozz instead, but you're determined to hear it straight from the source! It's such a good thing he has so many children, too, more brains to pick. Bruce...doesn't know how he feels about that.
The longer you spend on Earth, the more obvious it is that your intentions are pure in nature. All the offworlders likewise account that your people strive to collect and catalogue the information of interstellar species for the sake of knowledge.
Bruce is... surprisingly set at ease by this, in good time too, since you seem so keen on making yourself comfortable in his abode. He assumes concepts like personal space and privacy are lost notions to you, as they tend to be in large compact species like yours...little does he know you're trying with all your might to court him!
Humans are so complicated...frankly, one of the most socially complex ones out there. All their facial muscles, tones, and norms seem to vary person to person. It's frustrating trying to break into this one's mind.
Most of your bonding occurs while explaining these concepts to you. His years as a father have built his patience up, and he finds that he rather enjoys spending time with such a bottle-brain like you. Huh.
Dick Grayson
God, why are aliens such hot babes? Does this count as being a monster fucker? You're still humanoid enough...ahhh!
Yeah, Dick wants you as soon as he sees you. He's slicking back his hair and puffing up his chest to shake hands with you. "Hey, gorgeous," TM.
Instead of being turned down or interested, he's met with a secret third thing. You are interested, but in something else, is his suit made out of that latex you've seen in the windows of those sex shops down the street? Wow! Either he's confident, or recreational action for humans is rather liberating!
"Ah...it's Kevlar." He cringes softly.
Your perceived awkwardness is part of the charm, he thinks. Dorky, but well-meaning, just his type. Time to put his mentor pants back on and help you out!
To every question you have, Dick has an earnest answer. He provides spark notes on what was most difficult for Koriand'r to navigate when she first arrived on Earth, and the two of you go from there.
You're so super cute, you are, Dick just wishes your infatuation with him went farther than his humanity. Not all species are compatible, though, so maybe it's something that can't be helped...sigh.
It takes the effort of the old Teen Titans to pin the two of you together, since it's obvious to everyone else you're waiting for the other to make the first move.
How embarrassing would it be to be rejected by your placeholder tutor of all things? Not only would you be missing out on a total bombshell, but also all that information they had.
Thankfully...those days don't seem to be coming to an end anytime soon.
Jason Todd
You are such a headache and a half. Get out of his fucking face, get out of his base, and his damn head!
Jason does not have the time nor the patience to deal with you and your seemingly infinite open-ended prompts. Go teach yourself to use a web browser and get off his back!
Unfortunetly, though, it seems as if you've imprinted. Or...whatever it is your weird alien species calls forceful bonding. He doesn't mean it in that way...just, he has a lot already on his plate, okay?
Jason feels like a babysitter, dealing with you, one whose parents are two hours and counting late, and he's pretty sure he's not getting paid. It's exhausting.
Despite all his obnoxious bitching, Jason takes the time to make room for you in his day. He does the research that no one asked him to do, so as not to accidentally lead you astray in your pursuit.
He totally doesn't care; he'd just be an asshole to do otherwise. You're a scientist, kind of, anyway. Good faith and all that, right?
Over time, it becomes endearing. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. Jason likes to shrug you off and stick his nose up in the air, but he gets a pretty good ego boost out of aiding you.
He awaits the day you'll have to return to your people with his heels dug in and his arms crossed. It's inevitable, so what's the point in getting attached? (Ignore the part where he already is.)
Tim Drake
He thinks you're likewise plenty interesting, but he doesn't really believe you when you say you're only gathering information for the sake of it. Knowledge houses like that tend to have leverage in peace treaties, blackmail, and the like.
You're just one person on the front lines, not the whole group of higher-ups, so you're not all bad, but Tim is intentionally selective with what he shares with you.
Lying isn't evading the truth in Tim's book (that's because it's all he fucking does), so it's pretty funny to see you take his misconceptions seriously.
It's not malicious...in due time, you'll figure things out on his own, but he thinks it's pretty funny. Vaugly, you remind him of Konner during his early years away from Lex Luthor, but he doesn't really dwell on it. Anyone can be naive if they're sheltered for their entire lives from the rest of humanity, after all.
"Come get your partner", to his "No, I set them loose on purpose, they need enrichment" type of dynamic.
Soon you'll move on from this world to the next. Who knows what will become of you then, but for now, Tim intends to make sure you have a light-hearted good time on Earth, that is, once you worm your way into his heart.
Cassandra Cain
Your movements confuse her; your body says one thing, but then you do another. She's never encountered someone truly like her before, as even the Man of Steel himself carries himself like a human does.
The notion makes Cass feel insecure and even useless at times. It's unbelievably frustrating, but patience is a virtue. She takes it upon herself to breach the body and language barrier separating you two.
Earnestly, it's a great exercise for Cass to separate the constant distraction that is body movement in day-to-day conversations and interactions, and only focus on what's coming out of someone else's mouth.
It's...hard, but necessary if she's to help you like you're constantly requesting her to and Cass wants to, she really, really wants to!
It's a lot of trial and error between you two. Cass really isn't the best person to go to about questions about the wider world, but she, too, wishes to know all about it.
To you, she's a fascinating case study. A sign of triumph for her own people, even if they do not know it. Back home, you know your people will love to hear of her tales.
All in all, Cass thinks you're a bit silly, but charming. She loves running around Gotham with you both during the day and night, looking for new sites and things to learn together. Hand in hand.
Duke Thomas
A fucking alien? Interested in him? Duke is honored...if not a bit suspicious.
Duke knows he's special; he's not one to downplay his own efforts in the slightest, but...he's special kind of in the same way everyone else is special, too. Why him of all people?
Knowing aliens are real, and all that is one thing; interacting with something so foreign is something else. It leaves a bit of a sour taste in his mouth at first, because all he can think of is his biological dad, and how there's still so much to Duke's powers he doesn't know, but that isn't your fault. Neither is it his.
He enjoys how much you pick his brain, and how much you love Earth and Gotham. You're probably the only tourist in the entire world excited to visit their dump of a city. It's great!
At your attention...he's certainly bashful. Can a human and an alien really date? Well, of course they can, he's seen it himself with his older brother (yikes, he does not want to make that comparison ever again).
Duke is another who feels a constant swell of pride in being your chauffeur of sorts. He's so smart, isn't he? Ask him another question! He's sure he can answer off the top of his head.
it's come to my attention, that A LOT of you don't understand that soldier boy is just as bad as stormfront, probably worse in all seriousness. I keep seeing shit like "why put him with a nazi?" or "she's a horrible person" so is he my baby. He over-policed black neighborhoods, SO much he ended up killing MM's family. Hosed down civil rights protesters, abused his team so much they sold his ass to the Russians, was bashing gunpowder's head in every chance he got, shot those kids at Kent state, Black noir. He just handed his power-hungry, genocidal, dictator, rapist son, a highly potent serum. HELLO???
What marvel/dc characters do you think would go out and get "food" for vampire!reader to mucn on. Would they offer themselves or get other little humans/animals
dc:
Lobo is offering himself as a meal happily and without hesitation, coupled with lewd noises and moans to keep the needy suck of your mouth on his neck
Clark Kent doesn’t think it’ll work on him, but he’s willing to give it a shot if it means that you won’t hurt innocent people—and then is woefully, shamefully aroused at the way your mouth feels as you drain him of blood until you slake your thirst
Roy Harper is doing it for the thrill of the experience but then finds out that he enjoys it far more than he thought—tugging you against him, idly bucking his hips, saying your name as you continue to drink from him
Diana Prince is offering her neck as a challenge but then finds herself rather interested in offering her neck to you from now on. She finds that the press of your lips, the sink of your teeth—it’s intoxicating and she can’t be without it
marvel:
Logan is entirely into the idea of you drinking from him—he loves the way that he can be a blood bag for you at no cost to him, and he likes the idea of you pressed up on his lap, taking your fill—because he’ll take his fill next
Steve Rogers, noble soul he is, offers himself up and finds himself totally transformed by the experience—usually more used to vanilla experiences, he finds out he’s much more into the eroticism of it, and needs your mouth hehe
Loki adores the idea of being your tall drink of water—and enjoys the idea that his blood gives you unexpected magical effects. He’ll keep seeing what happens just go enjoy the rush it gives him
Rogue loves the fact that you can drink from her and not suffer the effects of her powers. She’ll accept the fact that you’re drinking from her if it means that she can’t be touched—and finds that she’s far more into it than she thought. Now she can’t imagine not being your food ;)
go ahead and lemme know if u got other ideas………..adios
Based in the universe of my fanfic that you can read here. But you don't have to read it to understand any of this. Unless you like... REALLY want too... <3
bf!Steve who sends you 'good morning' and 'goodnight' texts everyday without fail. If he somehow misses one he'll either call you or just show up at your door for a longer version of each.
bf!Steve who randomly shows up at your apartment with take out in hand and a tired but happy to see you smile. And will watch any movie you want to while eating, but he'll be way to busy watching you instead.
bf!Steve that whenever he sleeps over he never let's go of you while you lay together. He sometimes believes if he let's go you that you will disappear. That this is all just a dream and you are something his brain has created to try and replace Peggy. No, he doesn't see you as a replacement for Peggy, but that doesn't mean he isn't terrified that some part of his head believes that.
bf!Steve who will sit on your couch as you go through you Business Proposition presentation, he treats it like he is on the board listening to you. Before then giving constructive criticism (in a loving boyfriend way). And he will then listen to your re-done version with his advice mixed in, and trust me. As soon as you nail that shit (because you do), he literally gives you a standing ovation before kissing your entire face. Telling you that you will nail the presentation and definitely convince everyone on that board.
bf!Steve during your first visit to the Tower is following you around like a lost puppy introducing you to everyone and showing you literally everything he physically can explain to you. Plus, he is very happy that you immediately got along with Bucky regarding The Hobbit and both of your critics on the movies. Not that he really focused on that conversation, he was too busy smiling at you smiling and rambling.
bf!Steve who for your birthday got you a personally made journal that you could write all of your want lists, do scrapbooking in, just write your thoughts down. He didn't really mind what you wanted to do with it, so long as you used it. (You did. And you used it for literally everything. And I mean... EVERYTHING.)
bf!Steve who has a picture of you under his pillow, in a picture frame next to his bed, one in his wallet, one in his helmet (for his bike), one in a locket and one as his phone wallpaper. Bucky and Sam joke that they see you around more than they see Steve.
bf!Steve who comes out of your bathroom after a post-shower mission to see you wearing a baggy Captain America shield merchandise shirt and practically freezes immediately. You would slowly look up from your vanity at him and raise an eyebrow. "Stevie? You okay?" All he can do is gulp down all of the saliva that just came up into his mouth before responding. "U-Uh yeah. Um, baby? Do you think you could wear that shirt more?" Let's just say the teasing from you didn't stop for the rest of the night, but you still agreed to wear it more whenever he was around.
Heeeyyy, look who finally figured out HTML. Yes, this will become a usual around here because, yes. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!
If you did enjoy, please show some support!! And if you'd like to make a request, they're open!!
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Steve Rogers Tags: @thatisamericas-ass @hellilovedit
You’ve just gotten cozy in bed when your husband tells you, “You’re hot.”
“Thank you?” you replied, confused. “I’m not really in the mood tonight, though…”
Iwaizumi looked at you as if you’d grown another head. His brows are drawn together, mirroring your confusion.
“What? No, love, you’re hot.”
“I know I’m hot, Haji. You told me. And I told you I’m not in the mood.”
He sighed. “Hot-hot. You have a fever.”
“Oh?” You put a hand on your neck, feeling the temperature a lot warmer than usual. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“How’d you know?”
He shuffled around your bedroom, going through the cabinets that had extra blankets, medicine, and a thermometer he kept in your nightstand. Iwaizumi sat next to you, the bed dipping under his weight.
“You’re quieter than usual,” he answered eventually.
“That’s it? That’s not even—mmph!”
You could only glare at your husband when he unceremoniously gives you the thermometer.
“Rude. Is this how you treat your wife? That is ill?”
Iwaizumi chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot to tell you.” He offered you the blankets and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand to show that he truly was sorry. You’re not sure if you want to believe him given that cheeky smile on his face. “Be right back. I’ll make you something warm and get some water.”
“But we just had dinner—”
“Just a little hot soup? Please?”
“But I just brushed my teeth, Haji.”
“I’ll help you brush your teeth after.”
You stared at him. There was no way you could win this argument. Iwaizumi was quite stubborn when he wanted to be.
“Fine. I want egg drop soup, though.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
-
You’re about to fall asleep when Iwaizumi pulls you closer to him, murmuring, “You okay?”
“Mmh. Feels like it’s going to come down on me t’morrow.”
He shifted slightly, kissing your temple. “Weekend tomorrow. I’ll take care of you.”
You smiled, nodding along. Having a husband who could tell that you were about to fall ill just from the subtle tell-tale signs was a blessing.
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