The man was the pinnacle of celebrity crush around the globe, teenage girls everywhere (and even young women) would write letters to him. He’d occasionally get one from a man, and smirk to himself that he was universally ‘smokin’ as he called it.

It was one thing to get these letters, it was another for his identity to revolve around it. In the words of his sister, he could only love women and space. And that was what he was excused to.

Well part of it was true, he did love space. But he didn’t love women. Only two. His sister of course. And you.

He had met you during that fateful mission, one of the lab assistants, and he had never really stopped thinking about you. Your eyes, your hair. Everything he found so intoxicating.

———————————————————

After the success of their win against the strongest foe they’d ever faced, he decided enough was enough. And he’d flown to match your pace, thankfully under the flames licking his skin you couldn’t see his nervousness.

”Hey” he leaned his arms behind his back nonchalantly “so, I was just thinking” he flipped slightly so he was now stood in front of you, flames disappearing so he could wrap a strand of your hair around his finger “you uh, look I’m not good with sentimental stuff but-“

He let out a long suffering sigh “would you consider maybe letting me take you out? I mean. Not to brag but I did just save the world”