NoeL @blvckbl00d - Tumblr Blog

good trouble

pairing: johnny storm x fem!reader summary: you’re trouble in the most irresistible form: brilliant, daring, and utterly captivating. simply put, you’re exactly the kind of woman who makes someone like johnny storm forget the world and fall in love without warning. tags: bombshell!reader, astrophysicist!reader, johnny is down bad bc obviously, slow burn mutual pining goodness warning(s): no spoilers for fantastic four: first steps, reader wears a dress, heels, and makeup, period accurate misogyny (boooo), academia-based sleep deprivation, making out/slightly suggestive content (no smut) word count: 13.6k (i really put the slow in slowburn) note: first johnny fic!! seeing joseph quinn on the big screen really made me go back to my roots and start writing for the mcu again... anyway, i hope everyone enjoys 🩷

masterlist

Johnny Storm probably fell for you the second he laid eyes on you. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Especially not with a crowd to charm and flashbulbs hunting for his best angle. But there you were, drawing eyes in a dress that seemed designed to ruin him, all soft shimmer and sharp silhouette, the kind of entrance that made the room hold its breath just long enough for him to notice.

You didn’t even glance his way as you entered. That was the maddening hook.

The Future Foundation’s annual charity gala was an overengineered marvel in itself; crystal orbs floated mid-air like captive stars, a jazz band played from a suspended glass platform, and waiters balanced trays of molecular appetisers that emitted little clouds of lavender-scented vapour. Reed had designed the centrepiece: a rotating scale model of the solar system that actually adjusted to the planets’ real-time positions.

Johnny had been leaning on the bar, nodding politely through a monologue by some famous actress, when the atmosphere shifted. Heads turned. You glided through the crowd with a tilt of your chin that said the flashbulbs were just part of the décor. Diamonds at your ears caught the light; your lips a bold crimson promise; your gown shimmering in that dangerous shade neither silver nor gold, but a perfect champagne hue.

It wasn’t that you belonged here. You belonged everywhere, that was obvious. But you didn’t orbit anyone, and that was unusual in Johnny’s world. People clung to him, Reed, Sue, and Ben, for reflected light. You seemed perfectly content to generate your own.

“Who’s that?” Johnny asked Ben, who was already smirking like a man who’d just spotted trouble.

“You don’t want to know,” Ben grumbled, which of course only made Johnny want to find out more.

Reed spotted you almost instantly—no surprise, given that the gala swarmed with senators and starship engineers alike, and you were one of the few who could pass in both circles. When he reached you, his handshake was warm, his smile almost paternal. Reed had been one of your PhD advisors at Caltech, someone you admired professionally and respected personally.

You hadn’t been able to keep in touch as much as either of you would have liked to—his time leading the Fantastic Four and saving the world monopolised most of his time—but seeing your old mentor again brought on a wave of homesickness.

“You look wonderful,” Reed said, a genuine warmth in his voice. “It’s great to see you!”

“You too, Dr Richards,” you replied with equal enthusiasm.

“Reed,” he corrected with a chuckle. “I haven’t been your advisor in years. Listen, I know this is sudden, but I could really use your expertise. Would you consider consulting on a new project?” Reed leaned in, voice dropping so the jazz band couldn’t drown him out. “Astrophysics, of course. High-profile, a great deal of data to sift through. I could use your perspective—I’ve missed your mind in the lab.”

You grinned at that, the corners of your mouth tugging with real affection. “You always did know how to make an offer sound irresistible.”

“I mean it,” Reed said. His eyes twinkled with the faintest trace of amusement. “We’ve got some new readings from the Kepler Array that don’t quite add up. I thought of you immediately.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” you said, tilting your head. “And a little suspicious.”

“Suspicious?”

“You’ve just admitted the smartest man I know needs my help,” you teased. “Either the universe is in real trouble, or you’re buttering me up for a committee meeting from hell.”

He laughed, that rare warmth lighting his face. “It might be both.” Reed squeezed your arm reassuringly. “You’ve always had a knack for cutting through the noise. It would be great to work together again.”

The familiar spark of pride and challenge flared inside you. “Well, someone has to keep you out of trouble. And if it involves star charts and black holes, I’m your woman,” you agreed.

Truthfully, Reed’s offer couldn’t have come at a better time. You were looking to get back into research, and you knew the Future Foundation had resources you could only imagine in your dizziest daydreams.

Reed chuckled quietly. “Speaking of trouble, this gala’s a world away from the lab. But it’s necessary; funding won’t flow otherwise.” He paused, eyes sharpening. “I know you don’t mind the magazine covers or tabloids, but this is another level of criticism. And it’s only going to get worse once you start working with us.”

You shrugged, smirking. “I’m good with trouble,” you said lightly. “Comes with the territory when you’re as visible as I am. You don’t have to worry about me, Reed.”

Reed nodded, relief flickering in his eyes. “Good. You haven’t changed—you still have that same spark. It’s what made you my best student at Caltech.”

As you caught up, you glanced around. Flashes from photographers punctuating the air like tiny bursts of lightning, illuminating faces polished to perfection. The room thrummed with whispered conversations and clinking glasses.

You were accustomed to having eyes on you at public events like this, having been dubbed "Astrophysics Barbie" amongst other not-so-affectionate nicknames in the scientific community.

Across the room, Sue appeared beside Johnny and Ben, arching an eyebrow at the look of awe plastered on her little brother’s face. “More distracted than usual, Johnny. Who’s the latest wildfire?”

Ben snickered at her pun.

Johnny shrugged, trying to act casual but failing spectacularly. “Just someone who caught my eye when she walked in. She lit up the entire room without even trying.”

Ben snorted, shaking his head. “Careful, Johnny. You’re already playing with matches, and we all know how that ends.”

Johnny shot him a mock glare and turned to Sue. “Do you know her? Ever seen her at these events before?”

Sue glanced over at you, her smile thoughtful. “Not personally, but she’s impossible to miss. Last I heard, she’s the face of astrophysics and a shoo-in for the Nobel one day. And, not that I trust tabloids, but I hear she’s a real firecracker. I think she used to work with Reed.”

Before Johnny could press for more, Reed called out, “Sue, come here! I want you to meet someone.”

Johnny watched as Sue approached you. The moment you started talking, her face lit up with genuine warmth. Johnny could tell that Sue immediately liked you, based on the way she embraced you and threw her head back laughing.

You looked untouchable, like you belonged to a world far above theirs.

Ben stood beside Johnny, arms crossed, smirking.

Johnny, painfully aware of his friend’s knowing grin, rolled his eyes. “Don’t you dare say a word,” he warned.

“There’s not much to say,” Ben said, eyes twinkling.

Johnny tried not to show it, but Ben saw right through him. You had him completely hooked.

You were deep in conversation with Sue when you caught the unmistakable blur of Johnny Storm cutting through the crowd as if the gala was his personal runway.

He arrived just close enough to interrupt, voice dripping with that cocky charm that usually made women melt like wax.

“Careful,” Johnny said, eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned in, “that dress? Absolutely lethal. I’m surprised they let you into the Baxter Building looking like that.”

You met him with a slow smile, the kind that said you knew his game and weren’t impressed. “Lethal’s one word for it. I know you’re usually the one who brings the heat, so I figured I’d give you a break tonight.”

His grin twitched, unsure how to take your response. Johnny couldn’t tell if you were indulging him or mocking his flirtation. “And here I was, thinking I’m the only one who can handle the fire.”

You laughed, smooth and low. “Oh, Mr Storm. I’m no stranger to fire.” Your eyes flicked to the sharp line of his jaw, the bravado barely masking the nerves you caught so easily. Most people wouldn't have caught his tell, but you could see right through him. “I don’t think you’re ready for this level of trouble.”

Johnny took a step closer, undeterred. “Try me.”

“Please,” you said, voice dripping with mirth. “You’re going up against someone who’s been running circles around geniuses and politicians since before you could light up like a glowstick.”

He laughed, that confident burst you’d heard before, but now there was a crack. “You might be trouble, but I like trouble.”

“Careful what you wish for.” You tilted your head, letting the light catch in the sequinned edge of your gown, the picture of polite interest. “You’re used to people falling over themselves when you walk into a room, aren’t you?”

Reed and Sue watched, visibly amused as you dismantled Johnny’s bravado without breaking a sweat. Reed nodded approvingly—you were still the sharpest mind in the room.

After all, you were the only one who truly saw through Johnny. The rest of the world—helped along by his brother-in-law—was content to believe he was just a raucous playboy without the brains of his teammates. But anyone who really knew Johnny knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Johnny’s grin faltered briefly but came back full force. “Depends on the room, I suppose.”

Something softened in your voice. “You’ve got charm, I’ll give you that.”

Johnny’s gaze locked with yours, and for a breath, he thought you might be flirting back. The way your eyes lingered, the small dip in your smile. But then he caught himself and stepped back just enough to reset.

“You must be new to the gala this year,” Johnny said, struggling to regain his footing. Usually, women crumbled the moment he showed any interest in them. Your resistance was a new game, and it was throwing him off.

You smiled wider, a flash of something mischievous in your eyes. “You’re the one plastered on the front page of every tabloid in town. Maybe I’m just here to see if the legend lives up to the hype.”

Sue and Reed exchanged glances that communicated how much they were enjoying your showdown.

Johnny’s eyes flicked between you and them. Then, suddenly, “Dance with me,” he said, all charm and dare.

You tilted your head, running your eyes down the length of him in a lazy sweep. Johnny tried not to flush. Then, you shook your head. “Not tonight, hotshot. I have more important things to do than indulge your ego.”

Turning to Reed and Sue, you hugged them tight and promised to see them soon.

“Well, it was interesting meeting you, Mr Storm,” you said, voice playfully formal. “I dare say this won’t be the last time.”

“It was my pleasure,” Johnny said, still watching you leave.

Raising an eyebrow, your grin slipped into a smirk. “I’m sure it was.”

Winking at Sue, you slipped away, leaving Johnny with that half-charmed, half-frustrated look that said losing the last word was a challenge he intended to meet.

When you glanced back, Johnny was still watching you go. He laughed, sharp and delighted, once you were out of sight. “Wow,” he muttered, reaching up to muss his perfectly styled hair.

Reed sipped his champagne with the faintest grin. “This ought to be interesting,” he murmured to no one in particular.

The elevator dinged and slid open onto the 33rd floor, the part of the Baxter Building where brilliance lived and breathed. Reed’s lab was the kind of organised chaos you had expected from your former mentor.

A vast playground of polished metal surfaces, blinking consoles humming with quiet purpose, and holographic displays casting pale blue glows that danced in the curved white walls like ghosts of the future. It was part cathedral, part spaceship, part mad scientist’s dream.

You stepped out, hips swaying just enough to remind the room that brains and beauty could live in delicious harmony. Your pencil skirt clung with precision, but it was the crisp white of your lab coat that told everyone you meant business.

“Good morning, Reed,” you greeted, extending a take-away cup like a peace offering. The aroma promised the kind of caffeine salvation only a day in this lab could justify. “Hope your coffee order’s still the same as it was yesterday.”

He barely looked up, fingers dancing over a cluster of blinking controls. “Good morning,” he murmured, voice heavy with frustration. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m trying to recalibrate the Excelsior’s propulsion matrix. The harmonic oscillator’s behaving like it’s got a mind of its own.”

You took a step closer, eyes narrowing as you caught the cascade of floating schematics, the faint pulse of light tracing circuits in midair. “The resonant frequency isn’t syncing with the quantum dampers?”

Reed’s eyes lifted, surprise flickering like a flare. “Exactly. Thought it was a software glitch at first, but—”

You cut him off, pointer finger floating over a bank of circuits. “You’re missing the feedback loop with the nano-turbines. It’s causing phase cancellation. If you adjust the pulse width modulation on the transistor array here, it should smooth out the interference.”

Reed’s lips twitched in a rare grin. “You always were the quickest in the room,” he recalled.

You weren’t one of those scientists who spoke jargon to sound smart; you were succinct and clever. Reed was pleased that his star student still managed to outshine him after all these years.

“Honestly, I should have known you’d have a handle on this,” he commented. “Not just astrophysics but all the messy engineering that keeps a ship flying.”

You gave a mock innocent shrug, eyes sparkling. “What can I say? I like feeling intellectually superior to the poor souls I usually get stuck working with.”

Reed chuckled, shaking his head. He knew exactly the kind of misogynistic jerks you often had to work with, so he couldn’t blame you.

That glow of pride from impressing Reed warmed your chest, but before you could savour it, the elevator door opened and Johnny marched in, all swagger and smirk.

“Hey, mind if I hang around?” Johnny said, grinning like he knew the effect it usually had on women. “I’m sure this tech wizardry’s beyond me, but someone’s gotta keep you entertained.”

You caught the challenge in his eyes, that mix of admiration and amusement. You didn’t let him off easy.

“Johnny, save the show for later,” you said, voice laced with teasing authority. “We’re busy keeping the universe from collapsing.”

Johnny laughed, the sound easy and genuine. You caught Ben’s chuckle from the corner, the kind that said, Yep, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

H.E.R.B.I.E. glided by, wheels spinning silently as he delivered the latest Kepler Array readings. You nodded at the robot, offering him a genuine smile. “Thanks, H.E.R.B.I.E. Couldn’t do this without you.”

The robot beeped softly, an almost affectionate affirmation.

Johnny took a tentative step closer, but you intercepted, your smirk widening. “If you want to learn, sit down and watch. No distractions. And keep your hands to yourself.”

He grinned like a kid caught sneaking cookies, but obeyed, sliding onto a nearby stool with eyes glued to you. You and Reed quickly leaned back into the tangle of tech and equations, and it was hard for Johnny to look away.

This was your domain, and nowhere felt more like home than when you were elbow-deep in problems with Reed. You thrived on puzzles that teased your mind, each anomaly a quiet dare to prove you were far more than just a pretty face.

Nearly a month into your stint at the Baxter Building, you already knew you’d made the right call. It was far more satisfying than your old life as an assistant professor at Columbia. You weren’t cut out for lecturing; you’d earned your PhD to push boundaries, get hands-on, and chase the questions that kept your curiosity alive.

You’d learned fast that working for the Future Foundation wasn’t a solitary endeavour.

The moment you stepped into the lab, you became part of the Fantastic Four’s revolving door. Reed’s team dropped by as often as the blinking consoles refreshed—sometimes to check in, sometimes to offer unsolicited advice, and occasionally to steal a moment’s distraction from their own chaos.

You had a standing invitation to dinner every night, and a guest room had been set up for you, waiting patiently for you to claim it while the project stretched on. But despite the warmth of the offer, you preferred a little more distance from work. Boundaries weren’t just professional necessities; you needed them to stay sharp.

Still, you were moved by the unexpected tenderness that came with belonging.

Sue had taken to swooping in like a guardian angel, fussing over you with insistence to take breaks. She often expressed how grateful she was for you—your presence in the lab meant that Reed’s workload had halved, and it gave him room to breathe.

Ben, with his soft gruffness, began appearing more often, armed with cookies from his favourite bakery. It was a simple gesture that made the lab smell sweeter and the days a little lighter, especially when you were seconds from a rage-filled doom spiral.

Johnny had a vinyl collection like a personal DJ, always ready with exactly the record you wanted when it was your turn to pick the lab’s soundtrack. He’d even dash off mid-discussion to fetch whatever you wanted, his casual showmanship softening under the steady warmth of your easy camaraderie.

Slowly but surely, you were finding your footing as a part of their little bubble.

You leaned over the glowing console, eyes scanning the latest Kepler Array data with practised precision. “These fluctuations here,” you said, tapping a cluster of irregular readings, “don’t match the typical cosmic background radiation levels. It’s like something’s interfering.”

Reed nodded, intrigued. “Could be a localised gravitational distortion,” he offered. “But nothing in the archives matches this.”

You smirked, a spark lighting your gaze. “My bet’s on a subtle quantum effect. Maybe linked to that glitch in the propulsion system that’s been giving us trouble.” You flicked a command with practised ease, shifting the holograms into tighter alignment. “If we adjust the dampening fields just right, it should stabilise the whole system.”

Johnny popped his head over Reed’s shoulder with a grin that promised nonsense. “So, basically, she’s saying it’s some kind of space magic and we should cross our fingers it works?”

You didn’t miss a beat, arching an eyebrow. “Johnny, if I wanted your opinion, I’d give you a chemistry set and tell you to build a rocket.”

He laughed, like he was painfully aware this wasn’t his most charming work. “Ouch. Okay, fair. I’ll stick to the fire, and leave the brains to you.”

Reed chuckled but didn’t interrupt, clearly enjoying the show.

Ben wandered over, cookie in hand. “You really think this’ll fix the Excelsior’s hiccup?” His voice was gravelly, but carried genuine respect.

You popped a cookie into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “More than think—I’m betting my reputation on it. It just needs the right tweak and a healthy dose of stubborn optimism.”

Johnny settled on a stool, eyes locked on you in a way that made his usual smirk falter into something softer, less sure. You caught the flicker of admiration, mixed with something almost like awe.

“You’re unbelievable,” Johnny muttered, half to himself, half to the room.

You caught it and teased, “Is that a compliment or are you just admitting defeat?”

Johnny ran a hand through his hair, conceding. “Maybe both. You’re not just a pretty face, are you? That’s… kind of disarming.”

You grinned, the corner of your mouth curving with triumph. “That’s the point, Mr Human Torch. I’m just here to keep you on your toes.”

Ben laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

Johnny leveled Ben with an exaggerated scowl, but there was no heat behind it.

The day stretched on, filled with the satisfying hum of tech and quiet bursts of laughter. Reed and you dove into the Kepler Array data, unravelling anomalies with a shared intensity that made for the perfect level of productivity. Johnny lingered nearby, occasionally shooting you a sideways glance, softened by genuine fascination.

That night, just as you began to pack up your notes, the elevator doors swung open and Sue appeared, hands on her hips, eyes bright with determination.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly, stepping inside. “You’re not leaving without dinner. It’s been far too long since we had a proper meal together, and I’m not getting stuck with the boys tonight.”

You raised an amused eyebrow, caught by the sincerity in her tone.

“I mean it,” Sue added, her smile softening. “I need some girl time, not just science and sarcasm.”

Reed nodded in agreement, already pulling up a chair. “Sue’s right. It’s overdue.”

Johnny smirked, clearly amused. “Guess you’re stuck with us for the evening.”

You exchanged a look with Sue, and a quiet understanding blossomed between the two of you. In that moment, the Baxter Building wasn’t just a workplace. It was a home, and you were becoming a part of it.

“Alright,” you said, settling back with a smile. “Dinner it is. Let’s see if you can keep up with me outside the lab.”

Sue’s laughter filled the room, light and warm. “Challenge accepted.”

You settled into the Baxter Building’s living room like you owned the place. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city’s nightscape like a living painting, a deep blue velvet backdrop studded with a thousand lights. You sank into the soft embrace of the sofa set, your posture relaxed but every inch deliberate.

You were dressed for comfort, but the polished edge was undeniable. Relaxed trousers, a silk blouse cinched at the waist, hair pinned with effortless precision, and a smirk that suggested you were about to take no prisoners. You were about to make more than just conversation—you were here to win.

Glasses clinked, soda bubbles fizzing in crystal tumblers, popcorn steamed gently in bowls scattered across the low coffee table, buttery warmth mingling with the soft hum of blinking tech in the background. The room buzzed with the kind of electric banter that only family could make feel so effortless.

Ever since you stayed over for dinner for the first time a couple of weeks ago, you had become a family dinner regular. You were working later nights than you had at your old job, and you were running out of excuses to avoid family dinner.

Admittedly, it was nice to spend time with the Fantastic Four. They were warm and welcoming, and you never felt out of place among them.

Tonight in particular, they were in their element: family fun, banter crackling like static electricity in the air.

Johnny’s grin was all reckless charm as he slid a deck of cards onto the table. “Alright, team,” he announced, voice dripping with that trademark confidence. “Let’s play a little poker. Low stakes, high fun. And maybe I’ll finally get to see if the famous astrophysicist can bluff as well as she dazzles.”

You lifted a perfectly shaped brow, exaggerating your cluelessness with a tilt of your head. “Poker? That’s the one where a flush beats a straight, right?” You paused, hiding a grin as you saw the corner of Johnny’s mouth twitch. “Or maybe it’s the other way around? Honestly, I’m a bit fuzzy on the rules, but I’m happy to learn.”

Johnny leaned forward, elbows on the table, his breath warm against your cheek. “Flush beats straight, love. And these chips?” He tapped the stack with mock solemnity. “Each one’s worth bragging rights and a whole lot of pride.” His voice dropped an octave, flirting effortlessly. “Think of me as your poker tutor tonight.”

You considered this with mock gravity, eyes dancing over your cards as if they held secrets you had yet to unlock. “Alright then. Teach me, Human Torch.”

Reed chuckled from his corner, watching the exchange with an amused gleam. You caught his eye and shared a quick wink—a silent nod to countless poker nights past, where you’d swindled him blind and made it look easy.

Sue settled in beside you, pretending to be the innocent newbie too. But you both knew better. You exchanged a glance, a subtle signal, and suddenly your confused questions became part of the ruse. “Wait, so if I raise here, does that mean I’m bluffing or...?” You let the question hang, voice teasingly innocent.

Johnny’s grin faltered just a touch, the kind of brief crack you delighted in exposing. “Careful, that’s how legends fall.” His eyes flicked to Sue, who raised her own brow with perfect poker-face poise.

Ben rumbled a laugh from the other side of the room, booming enough to rattle the glasses. “You two are just setting him up to crash and burn.” His grin was broad, but there was an unmistakable warmth in the way he regarded you both.

You deliberately mixed up chip values, asking, “So, does a red chip beat a blue one? Or am I already out of the game?” Your voice was the picture of confusion.

Johnny chuckled, leaning in with a genuine smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t lose on your first night.” His tone was kind, even as his eyes twinkled with challenge. “Besides, it’s about the fun, not the winnings.”

You threw him a sidelong glance, dropping a chip into the pot with exaggerated hesitation. “Good, because I’m here to win your respect, not your cash.”

The table erupted into laughter, Sue nodding conspiratorially beside you. Reed shook his head, amused, but his eyes gleamed with pride. “You two make this look too easy.”

As the game unfolded, you caught Johnny’s quick glances. He was genuinely rooting for you, even as you threw playful shade his way. When you called his bluff with a perfectly timed smirk, you could practically see the spark of admiration behind his feigned frustration.

The game was a dance of glances, bets, and raised eyebrows. You watched Johnny’s quick twitches—the way he glanced at you like he was trying to decipher a particularly cryptic puzzle, the sharp inhale when you matched his raises with a smirk.

You weren’t just playing poker; you were playing him, and the way his bravado slipped just enough for you to see the real man beneath the flame.

At one point, Johnny leaned over your shoulder, fingers ghosting dangerously close to your cards, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sure you want to go all in? This could get… heated.”

You suppressed a smile. “I run a little cold,” you shot back, voice low, eyes locked on Johnny. “So heat is very much welcome.”

The thrill of the game and the way Johnny was watching you sent a sweet, dizzy flutter through your chest. Your fingertips tingled with anticipation, heart steady but alive with electric possibility.

The room hummed with quiet laughter as Sue leaned forward, whispering to Reed, “She’s playing him like a fiddle.”

Ben chuckled from his corner, having clocked your ruse from the beginning.

By the final hand, you settled back with effortless poise, your breath even, eyes calm and sparkling with a confidence that made Johnny’s grin falter for the briefest second.

He pushed a hefty pile of chips into the centre, but there was a flicker of hesitation.

You matched his bet, sliding your own chips forward as your heartbeat hummed a steady rhythm beneath your skin. Your mind worked the room like a well-oiled machine, calculating, predicting.

You knew Johnny thought he had the better hand, and that was why your bluff would work.

“Going all in, huh?” Johnny said, a slow smile tugging at his mouth, eyes narrowing with challenge. “Confident, aren’t you?”

You met his gaze without flinching, voice low and smooth as velvet. “Maybe the student is becoming the master,” you teased.

The tension stretched, thick and charged, the game slipping from cards into something much more electric. Johnny tossed his cards down first, flashing that arrogant grin like he’d already won. It was a solid hand: a full house, impressive enough to make anyone sit up and take notice.

You let your fingers linger over your cards a beat longer. Then, you laid down your cards with deliberate grace, a perfect bluff that told a story only you could sell.

A royal flush.

The room froze for a heartbeat, eyes darting between your hand and Johnny’s, before exploding into laughter and mock outrage. Johnny sat slack-jawed, eyes wide, caught off guard in a way that only made you more irresistible. Disbelief flickered in his gaze before it melted into admiration.

You leaned in, voice barely above a whisper, the heat between you both folding into the playful intimacy of the moment. “That’s the problem with fire,” you murmured, “it’s easy to read the smoke signals.”

The table erupted into raucous laughter. Johnny swore revenge, but you could hear the breathlessness in his laugh. His usual cocky armour slipped, revealing the genuine admiration and just a flicker of something softer.

Sue elbowed him lightly. “You’re losing your touch, Johnny.”

Ben grinned. “You got outplayed by the new girl.”

Johnny gave a playful cry of outrage, but the warmth in his eyes told the truth: he was pleased you won.

You felt it then. This was more than a game; this was the beginning of something electric, the kind of trouble you both lived for.

As the chips clattered and the night wore on, you knew one thing for sure. You weren’t just part of the Fantastic Four’s world. You were quickly becoming the centre of Johnny’s.

The mission was done. The adrenaline was finally ebbing, and Johnny found himself sinking into the comfort of his sanctuary: his bedroom in the Baxter Building.

It was more than just a place to sleep. Johnny’s room felt like a curated echo of his personality. It was bold, stylish, a little eccentric, and surprisingly layered beneath the surface.

A plush, round bed was tucked to the right, layered with patterned throws and an avalanche of pillows—currently occupied by both Sue and Ben, who had taken up casual residence the moment they stepped inside. Sue sat cross-legged, picking at one of Johnny’s knit cushions with idle fingers, while Ben lay back with his boots still on, arms crossed behind his head like he owned the place.

Books, gadgets, and half-burned candles cluttered sleek shelves along the walls. Johnny’s desk curved like a wave, covered in scribbled notes, retro record sleeves from albums he knew you loved, and a white mushroom lamp glowing beside a half-finished model of a jetbike.

Johnny dropped into the blue chair in the middle of the room, his posture half-slouched, one leg kicked up on the ottoman like he needed the chair to catch him before he unravelled completely.

The familiar thrum of his heart was slowing, but not yet steady.

The others had filtered in behind him after the mission. Reed, already scrolling through data on a slim tablet; Ben with that trademark easygoing grin; and Sue, ever the calming presence, watching him with a mix of amusement and quiet understanding.

“So,” Reed began, voice calm but laced with its usual edge of clinical scrutiny, “how’s my protégé fitting in? I think she’s doing a spectacular job.”

Johnny let out a short, breathy laugh, eyes flicking toward the window. “She’s… something. Not just another genius. She holds her own against you. And yeah, she let me think I was winning for a bit. I’m not used to that.” He ran a hand through his hair, and for a second, the flicker of uncertainty gave him away. “It’s kind of throwing me off.”

Sue arched a brow and leaned her elbow against one of Ben’s knees, smirking. “You seem to have met your match. You’re not exactly easy to beat, Johnny.”

Ben chuckled from the bed, folding his arms across his chest. “Kid, I’ve seen you fight monsters, fall outta the sky, and still land with a smile. But this? This right here?” He pointed lazily toward Johnny. “You’re like a lovesick puppy.”

Johnny shot him a glare, but it lacked real heat. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Ben teased. “That look on your face? You’re smitten. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Johnny groaned, leaning his head back. The ceiling light caught the edges of his cheekbones. “I don’t know. Reed and Sue, you have this stable, solid relationship. Someone who gets you. I never thought I’d find that. And now, she’s here, and I’m trying to play it cool like always, but it’s not working. She sees right through me.”

Reed, still half-distracted by his data, looked up. His voice was softer now. “Love’s not easy for any of us. It’s a challenge, like any mission. But you don’t have to go at it alone.”

Sue stood up from the bed, her hand brushing Johnny’s arm. “And don’t waste time pretending you don’t care. Be honest with her, and with yourself. That’s the only way it works,” she advised.

Johnny exhaled slowly, the energy peeling off him like old paint. “She’s trouble,” he said quietly. “The kind that makes me want to be better. The kind that isn’t really troublesome at all, it’s just forcing me to face something I haven’t had to deal with before.”

Ben raised a bottle of soda he’d grabbed from the mini fridge under the bar. “To good trouble, then.”

Johnny let himself smile. His bedroom, the laughter of people who knew him too well, the messy desk, the rumpled bed, the hum of the city below—it all grounded him.

Reed’s tablet chimed softly, pulling him back to the present. He glanced up, a slight crease between his brows. “H.E.R.B.I.E. says our newest member is still logged into the system,” Reed glanced toward the window, “but she stepped out for some air. It’s quite late.”

Johnny’s chair creaked as he pushed himself upright, a sudden sharp edge cutting through his fatigue. “I’ll go find her,” he said. “Make sure she’s okay.”

Sue gave him a small, knowing smile. “She’s lucky to have you watching her back.”

Johnny slid his feet back into his boots, already moving toward the door. “Get some rest,” he ordered his family. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Johnny made his way down to the East River, the city’s noise a distant hum swallowed by the chill night air. The Baxter Building loomed behind him, a sentinel in the dark, its windows faintly glowing like stars trapped in glass.

Above the water, the Excelsior launch pad hovered silently, bathed in soft blue light that shimmered on the river’s surface like scattered stardust.

This was the quiet spot Johnny claimed when his head was too full for the humdrum of the Baxter Building’s walls. The wooden bench near the water’s edge, worn smooth by countless restless nights, waited patiently.

But tonight, when he arrived, you were already there.

You hadn’t expected company. The river’s cold breath curled around you, biting at your exposed wrists beneath the crisp cut of your coat. The night was so still, it felt as though even the stars were holding their breath, waiting.

You drew your knees tighter together, boot heels resting on the frost-slick planks, and kept your eyes on the water.

Its surface rippled in liquid silver, catching the moonlight like fragments of a shattered mirror. The Excelsior’s glow poured across the black water in long, unbroken ribbons, swaying gently with the current. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers trembling just enough for you to feel it.

You told yourself it was the cold and had nothing to do with Johnny Storm.

Beneath your polished exterior, the bombshell astrophysicist persona stood guard. It was the armour you’d learned to wear to survive boardrooms, press briefings, and laboratories full of men who thought they knew more than you before you’d spoken a word.

It was an image built from perfect hair, crisp lines, and a voice that never faltered. A necessity.

Success in your world demanded a mask: an impeccable image, flawless intellect, steel resolve. But here, under the vast and indifferent sky, you could almost imagine taking it off.

That’s when Johnny’s shadow fell over the bench.

You didn’t turn right away, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “If you’re here to brood, the spot two feet to your left is open.” Your voice was steady, but inside, your heart was skipping beats you tried not to count.

The sound of Johnny’s chuckle warmed you more than you’d admit. He sat beside you, close enough that the cold no longer pressed quite so sharply against your side. You could feel the faint heat radiating from him, soft as a sunbeam through glass.

“Let me guess,” you went on, finally glancing at him, “you’ve claimed this spot longer than me?”

“Long before you ever showed up,” he said, wearing that impossible grin. “Even before I was the Human Torch.”

“Impressive,” you said dryly. “So you were dramatic even before the powers?”

His grin widened. Johnny leaned back, stretching out his legs. “I prefer to think of it as memorable.”

You tilted your head. “You mean loud?”

“Strategically attention-grabbing.”

You huffed a laugh. “Sounds suspiciously like someone compensating for something.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “Ouch. That’s cold.”

The banter looped on, familiarly effortless. You volleyed jabs about Johnny’s sunglasses collection; he countered with digs about your “movie star walk” through the lab. Beneath it all, though, you felt an awareness in the way his eyes lingered a second too long when you smiled. He noticed the way your voice softened on certain words without meaning to.

“You’re one to talk. I’ve seen you walk into the lab like you’re about to be photographed for the cover of Astrophysics Monthly,” Johnny joked.

“That’s because I’m always ready,” you shot back, crossing one leg over the other in an exaggerated pose. “The camera could be anywhere.”

He chuckled, the sound warm enough to curl in your chest. For a while, the banter circled harmlessly, back and forth. Two well-defended citadels lobbing witty remarks across the river between them.

The easy banter felt like a shield against the silence, but beneath it, your mind was a storm. You thought about the endless hours you’d poured into your work, the lectures given with razor-sharp precision, the whispered doubts cast your way because of your gender, your youth, your brilliance.

Yet here, beside this man who could ignite cities with a glance, you felt the edges of that persona soften, even if just a fraction.

The wind picked up off the river, sharp enough to sting your cheeks. You shifted slightly, your shoulder brushing his. The heat that came off Johnny wasn’t metaphorical; it was bone-deep, a steady hum against your side. You found yourself leaning in, inching closer like he was gravity.

His shoulder brushed yours, and the contact was startling in its simplicity. Not staged. Not part of the act. Just him: steady, warm, unguarded.

Johnny noticed you huddling closer for warmth. Of course he did. But he didn’t make a joke. He just stayed still, warm and solid beside you, letting the cold do the work of closing the distance.

For a while, you both watched the water in silence, listening to the quiet lap of waves against the pier. The night smelled faintly of salt and metal, the city’s energy reduced to a distant pulse. Your breath misted in the air, mingling with his.

After a moment, you tilted your head back toward the stars. “Do you ever look up and feel like the world’s too small? Like there’s more out there you’re not quite ready to reach?”

Johnny’s voice was lower now, without its earlier spark of mischief. “All the time. Sometimes I pretend I’m halfway to the moon and the rest of the world’s just trying to catch up.”

A smile pulled at you, smaller and quieter than the ones you usually let people see. “I wish I could be that untethered. Sometimes I think I get too caught up in the performance of it all. And I know I have to be, but it’s exhausting.”

Johnny looked at you fully then, and there was no teasing in his gaze. “You don’t have to pretend to be anything. You’re not just some bright star, you know. You’re the whole constellation.”

The words landed warm in your chest, and for a moment, you forgot about holding your posture. You let yourself lean just a little heavier against him. His shoulder pressed back, not shifting away.

“What if you could go anywhere right now?” you asked softly. “No responsibilities, no saving the world, no being the perfect eligible bachelor. Where would you fly?”

Johnny looked out at the river’s shimmering stretch and grinned. “It's not so bad here.”

Your laugh came easily, and the sound felt foreign in its honesty. For once, you didn’t have to worry about how it sounded. The night around you was cold, but with his heat at your side, you could have stayed there forever.

The wind skimmed off the river again, sharper now, and you instinctively tugged your coat tighter.

Johnny noticed.

Without a word, he shrugged out of his leather coat and draped it over your shoulders before you could protest. The lining was still unnervingly warm from his body heat, like it had been sitting near a fire. His hands lingered a second too long at your shoulders, the weight of them grounding you in a way that made your pulse skip.

You swallowed hard.

“You’re freezing.” Johnny said it as though giving you his jacket was the only solution.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the scent of smoke and something faintly sweet hit you, and the words tangled in your throat.

“I’m fine,” you countered, though you didn’t move to return the jacket. “You know I’m capable of basic thermoregulation.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said with a lazy half-smile, “but my way’s better.”

For a few beats, you both sat in comfortable quiet, the river whispering its endless, low song.

Then his voice broke the stillness. “Do you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t… this?”

“This?” you echoed.

“The science, the speeches, the whole bombshell astrophysicist thing the tabloids love?”

You tilted your head toward him, caught off guard. “That’s a big question for two in the morning.”

“I’m a big-questions kind of guy,” Johnny said, though his smirk didn’t quite hide the curiosity in his eyes.

You hesitated. For a second, you almost told him about the other paths you’d once imagined for yourself, the softer dreams you’d traded for the armour you wore now.

But you caught yourself, retreating into a teasing smile. “What about you? Would you still be setting things on fire for a living?”

Johnny grinned, letting you dodge his question. “Maybe I’d be a chef. Same skill set, less collateral damage.”

You laughed, and the tension slipped back into its familiar dance. Light, teasing, safe.

“Actually, I’d probably do something with cars,” Johnny admitted. “Racing them, fixing them—I don’t know, I always just liked taking things apart and putting them back together again.”

“Ah,” you hummed, grinning. “I’m familiar with that kind of curiosity. I don't know how many times I used to take apart our toaster and put it back together just waiting for my parents to get home after school.”

Johnny tried to picture a younger you waiting up for your parents and fiddling around with kitchen appliances. It was too adorable a thought to linger on—the last thing he wanted to do was blush in front of you.

“You’ve got that look again,” he said.

“What look?”

Johnny’s expression softened. “The one where you’re thinking about something you’re not gonna tell me.”

You arched a brow. “You’ve known me for how long, and you still think I’m easy to read?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say you’re easy to read, but I’ve spent a lot of time trying to.”

That landed too close. You tipped your head back toward the skyline, letting the wind steal whatever reply you might have had.

Your thigh brushed Johnny’s, and you felt him still, just slightly, as though deciding whether to close the gap or keep it where it was. Heat radiated through the denim, curling low in your stomach.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low, “you might get addicted.”

You almost snorted. “To what?”

Johnny didn’t answer right away. His gaze found yours, steady, unreadable, but lit with something that made the air between you feel thinner, hotter. Finally, he said, “To the warmth.”

You swallowed hard, breaking eye contact first. Your heart thudded in your ears. It was almost too much—too close, too revealing.

“Y’know,” Johnny said after a beat, “I don’t think I’ve ever been up here this late. Or early, I guess. Feels like we’re not even in the same city anymore.”

“It’s like the rest of the world went to bed and forgot about us,” you agreed.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You could have told him it was dangerous. That being alone with him like this was already pushing the limits of what you could keep hidden. But you just said, “Ask me in the morning.”

His grin came slowly, curling at the edges, but he didn’t push.

The conversation circled again, back to safe territory. Johnny told a story about a botched mission in Madrid that involved three fire alarms and one very offended goat. You countered with the tale of the time you accidentally blew a circuit in Reed’s lab and invented a new chemical smell in the process.

Johnny watched you for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice had that low, dangerous warmth again. “You’ve got frost on your hair.”

He reached up, brushing the strands lightly with his gloved fingers. The touch was barely there, but it sent a sharp little current down your spine.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure your voice would work if you tried it.

You were the one to speak this time, low and almost without thinking. “Maybe I already am.”

Johnny’s brows lifted just slightly. “Addicted?”

You didn’t answer.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air held the shape of something that might have become a kiss. Then a distant siren wailed through the city, a reminder that the world was still turning, still watching.

Johnny leaned back slightly, letting the space between you expand just enough for you to breathe. But the warmth stayed, coiled under your skin.

You hadn’t expected Johnny to come see you. The two of you didn’t communicate much when you weren’t at the Baxter Building. He occasionally called your landline and chatted to you about his day or the record he just got.

But tonight, there was a real knock on your apartment door. A gentleman’s knock, as if he’d been standing there rehearsing it.

When you opened it, you caught Johnny mid-grin, his shoulders hunched in the way people do when they’re pretending they’re not excited. The collar of his red jacket was turned up against the wind, his hair swept into soft disorder by the February chill.

“Thought I’d pick you up properly,” he said. His tone was light, but his eyes, quick and searching, made the air between you feel like a live wire.

You stared back at him. “How do you know where I live?” you wondered.

Cheerfully, Johnny declared, “Reed told me! Now come on, these plans are non-optional and took several weeks of planning to ensure that every single member of the Fantastic Four will be available.” He winked. “Including our honorary member.”

Luckily, Sue had called a couple of days ago to let you know that you all had plans coming up. You doubted that she knew her little brother intended to pick you up from your apartment without warning, but at least it meant you were dressed for the cold and ready to go by the time he showed up.

You stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind you, the scent of his cologne already catching in the wool of your coat. Johnny didn’t comment on your outfit, though you saw him notice, but he did take your gloves from you without asking, tucking them into his own pocket like you wouldn’t need them.

The Fantasticar was waiting at the curb, and the city beyond shimmered with the kind of cold that makes neon look sharper. You slid into the backseat, and the moment the doors sealed shut, the world went quiet. Just the muffled hum of the engine and Johnny’s knee brushing yours.

Reed turned from the front passenger seat with a polite nod. “Evening. Ben’s already out, said he’d meet us there.”

Sue leaned over the seat to squeeze your arm warmly. “Glad you could make it. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper night together.”

You smiled back, but your attention was snagged when Johnny’s hand settled over yours on the seat between you. The heat of his palm seeped through your skin in slow waves, curling up your arm and blooming in your chest. You didn’t pull away.

“You’re gonna like this,” Johnny said, watching you instead of the skyline. “We’re giving you a real night out tonight. No tourist stuff. No press-friendly stops. Just—” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “Us. What we’d always do if we were, you know, branded on fewer billboards.”

And there it was again. That gentle, careful crack in the Johnny Storm persona. The flicker of something that wasn’t all heat and showmanship. Something meant for you alone.

Outside, Manhattan’s glass edges blurred past, streetlamps streaking gold across the windows, but you didn’t look away from him until the car slowed at your first stop.

The car coasted to a smooth stop outside a modest diner tucked between a faded bookstore and a neon-lit laundromat. The sign flickered slightly, Dot’s Diner, casting a soft pink glow over the wet pavement.

Johnny slid the door open and held out a hand to you, his smile easy, the kind that made you forget everything for a moment. “Home turf,” he said, voice dipped in something almost nostalgic.

You stepped out into the crisp night air, the scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee curling up your nose. The chill nipped at your cheeks, but the warmth from Johnny’s hand still lingered as he guided you up the cracked sidewalk.

Reed and Sue were already inside, being led to a booth by the window. Reed’s fingers danced absently over the menu, his ever-present watch glinting under the flickering diner light.

“Ben’s probably eyeing the pie counter,” Johnny murmured, leaning close enough that your shoulders brushed. The heat radiating off him was enough to make your cheeks warm.

You settled into the booth beside Sue, the vinyl seats creaking softly beneath you. Around you, the comforting clatter of dishes and low murmurs from other late-night patrons seemed to hum.

“You’ve got to try the coffee,” Sue said, passing you a menu. “There’s no reason it should be this good, but it’s magic.” She smiled and nudged Johnny lightly. “He’s been sneaking in here since he was about nine. After school then, and now, when he wants a break from Reed’s rambles.”

Johnny snorted, flashing that cocky grin. “Hey, Reed’s rambles are basically bedtime stories, that’s how quickly they put me to sleep.”

Reed glanced up from the menu, eyebrows raised. “I prefer to think of them as intellectual nourishment.”

You smirked, catching Johnny’s eye. “Sounds like someone needs to optimise his charisma settings.”

Reed ignored the jab, seriously folding his fingers. “I’m actually trying to optimise the diner coffee. I suspect Dot’s brew is less science, more nostalgia, and that’s what makes it so delicious.”

Ben slid into the booth beside Reed, his thick slice of pie almost too big to balance on the plate. He snorted loudly. “Optimal? It’s diner coffee, Reed. The only optimisation is how fast you can guzzle it before it turns into a sad lukewarm puddle.”

Johnny’s grin deepened. “Ben’s got a point, but Dot’s coffee is more than caffeine. It’s tradition. Like a warm hug you don’t have to pretend to enjoy.”

The diner’s middle-aged waitress, Dot herself, appeared like clockwork, ruffling Johnny’s hair with practised affection. “You haven’t changed a bit, kiddo. And you’ve got yourself a lovely friend here. Haven’t seen you around before, sugar.”

Johnny laughed, loud and genuine, like the sound had been bottled up for too long. “Don’t let her fool you, she’s tougher than she looks,” he insisted, nodding toward you.

Caught off guard by the warmth radiating from Dot’s eyes, you introduced yourself, your voice lighter than you felt. “Nice to meet you, Dot.”

Her smile deepened. “Johnny’s always been a charmer. But he’s got a good heart. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Johnny waved away the flirtation like a pro but kept that slow smile that said he’d already claimed this space for both of you. “Two coffees,” he ordered once introductions were done. “My usual, and one with cream and two sugars for her. And bring her a slice of your signature cake, no whipped cream.”

You blinked, caught off guard, your familiar order settling around you like a warm blanket. You hadn’t even said a word, but Johnny had it memorised. It was like your coffee order was just another little piece of you he’d tucked away.

Dot jotted it down and bustled off, humming a tune that sounded like a 50s record.

Johnny reached over, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. You swallowed, breath catching just slightly, and said nothing.

The coffee arrived quickly, steaming and rich, exactly as you liked it. The cake was dense and buttery, the kind that melts slowly on your tongue, carrying a hint of sweetness that cut through the chill like a warm sigh.

Johnny took a slow sip of his black coffee. “You know, this place? It’s kind of my secret hideout. When I was a kid, I’d come here after getting grounded—”

Sue chuckled, eyes sparkling. “‘Grounded’ is putting it mildly. Remember the time you tried flying off the roof with a makeshift cape?”

Ben’s laugh was like thunder. “And nearly broke his neck. Again.”

Johnny shot him an offended look, but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Hey, you weren’t even there! And that was experimental flight testing, okay? You just don’t appreciate genius when it flies too close to the sun.”

You smiled, soaking in the rhythm of their family; the teasing, the history, the way they fit like pieces of a puzzle you didn’t even know you wanted to be part of.

Sue nudged you gently. “Johnny’s never really outgrown this place. It’s where he found his footing when everything else was spinning out of control.”

Johnny’s voice lowered, just a bit. “When we first came back from space, with powers I couldn’t handle yet, Dot’s was the only place I could go to shut out the noise, sit with my own head, and not feel like a freak.”

“And now?” you asked, leaning in, your tone soft but edged with playful challenge.

Johnny’s grin came back, slower, deeper, like he was carrying a secret just for you. “Now, it’s a place I want to share. With you.”

Ben raised his fork in mock salute. “Welcome to the family, kid.”

You caught Johnny’s gaze. There was a flicker, a quickening in his eyes that made your heart do that uneven skip. You threw him a teasing smile. “Guess that makes me officially part of the crazy, huh?”

Johnny’s laugh was low, and he leaned closer. “Crazy? Yeah. But you’re the kind we want to keep around.”

You smirked, letting your fingers trace idle patterns on your mug. “Careful, Johnny. That sounds dangerously close to commitment. I don’t think you’re ready for that level of chaos.”

He raised an eyebrow, mock offence lighting his features. “Please. I invented chaos.”

Before you could volley back, a young guy from the counter sidled up, flashing a grin that was way too practised for 2 AM. “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you from over there. How about you let me buy you a drink sometime?”

You glanced over at Johnny, who was watching the exchange with a slow, amused smile, with the barest flicker of hesitation.

Turning back to the guy, you gave him a once-over, your eyes sparkling. “Well, aren’t you a bold one to come say that around a table of superheroes?”

He laughed nervously, clearly thrown off but trying to keep his cool. “Hey, no pressure. Just figured I’d ask.”

You leaned forward, voice low and teasing. “Flattery will get you everywhere, but I don’t do casual dating. Not when the company is this dangerous.” You gave a slow, deliberate smile that said you knew exactly the effect you had, and weren’t sorry about it.

Johnny shifted in his seat, fingers tightening subtly around your hand. His smile was a little tighter now, as if the playful confidence he’d worn all night was faltering just a bit. The rare moment caught him off guard.

Seeing you so desired, so magnetic, and being reminded that you weren’t his.

Sue caught the flicker in Johnny’s eyes and gave you a wink. “Trust me, you’re the most dangerous person here.”

The guy seemed to get the hint, nodding politely and retreating back toward the counter with a sheepish grin. You turned back to Johnny, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear—just like he had done for you earlier.

“Even at a late-night diner with superheroes, I’m still the centre of attention,” you joked, trying to cheer him up.

Johnny shook his head, chuckling. “Guess you really are the hottest thing to come out of astrophysics in the last fifty years, huh?”

You arched a brow, grinning widely. “Did you just quote The Daily Press headline about me from last month?”

Johnny shrugged, refusing to look abashed. “What can I say? I’m a big fan.”

You leaned closer, your voice dropping just enough to tease. “Well, big fan, if you’re gonna quote headlines, you might want to bring me more than coffee next time.”

After the night had worn on and the laughter and stories faded, the group slowly spilt out into the cold. Johnny was at your side as you stepped into the street, and the others headed toward the waiting Fantasticar.

You and Johnny lingered, falling a step behind the others. The world around you shrank, and sounds dimmed. Only the quiet hum of distant traffic and the soft scuff of your footsteps against the wet sidewalk filled the space between you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of the night, heavier somehow now, like everything had pulled you closer to a line neither dared cross yet.

Johnny’s voice was low, the usual swagger stripped away, fragile in the quiet. “This is my real New York. Figured you should see it.”

The words hit you like in a way you hadn’t expected, warm and heavy in the cold air. You swallowed hard, your breath visible in the frigid air, and you forced a lightness to your tone. “I loved it. The diner, Dot—everything was incredible. It felt like stepping into a scrapbook, if that makes any sense.”

Johnny gave you a slow, careful smile, blue eyes catching the glow of the streetlamp. “Makes perfect sense. Couldn’t have explained it better myself.”

You felt the charged silence coil tighter. Your fingers itched to reach for Johnny, to close the space, but your heart clenched at the thought of what would come next.

You stepped a fraction closer, your shoulder brushing his. Johnny’s gaze dropped—first to your lips, then darted up to your eyes, panic flickering there before he steadied himself. His hand came up, resting lightly on your upper arm, warm and steady, holding you in place without overstepping.

You leaned into the heat of his touch. You craved it like a shield against the night’s chill. But just as quickly, reality snapped back, and you pulled away so fast you almost stumbled. His hand was there in an instant, steadying you, his fingers curling around your wrist with a flicker of heat.

The tension twisted tighter between you; this desperate dance of wanting and restraint, of holding on and letting go.

Your heart pounded. “Johnny, I’ve always known you weren’t what the tabloids made you out to be. But tonight... I think I really saw you for the first time. And you’re great.”

His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours. “Great? You really think that?”

You smiled softly, fierce with certainty. “You’re more than fire and headlines. You’re smart and kind. You don’t have to talk yourself down around me. No billboard or photoshoot is going to change that.”

A shadow crossed Johnny’s face, vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his usual bombast. “Sometimes, I’m scared that’s not enough. That people only see the show.”

You reached up, your fingers brushing lightly along his jaw, anchoring him. “They see you. The real you. At least, I do.”

Johnny exhaled slowly, releasing a held breath, then looked away for a moment, jaw tight. When he met your eyes again, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze.

You both fought the pull to close the distance, to let everything spill out in a rush. Instead, you fell silent, the city’s muted glow wrapping around you like a fragile bubble.

Johnny’s hand lingered a moment longer before retreating slowly to his side. “Let’s get you inside,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint. “It’ll be warm in the Fantasticar.”

You nodded, but didn’t move away just yet. Instead, you let your head fall lightly against his shoulder, seeking warmth, safety, something steady amid the chaos.

The distant laughter of your friends faded behind you, but here, in this charged stillness, time seemed to slow to a whisper.

“A night like this...” Johnny breathed, voice nearly breaking. “Feels like the start of something.”

You closed your eyes against the sharp ache in your chest. “Yeah,” you whispered back. “Feels like it.”

For a breath, the world seemed to pause. Just the two of you suspended in the quiet glow of the streetlamp. Your hands lifted almost without thinking, fingers curling gently around Johnny’s jaw, tilting his face toward yours. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing his cheeks, and you felt the rapid thump of his heartbeat through the fabric of your coat—fast, urgent, impossible to ignore.

Your lips hovered inches from his, every nerve on fire, every second stretching out like a held breath. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the desperate longing tangled with hesitation.

Then, just as your lips were about to meet, a distant shout—one of the others, calling your names—shattered the spell.

You both pulled back, breath hitching, eyes wide, searching each other’s faces for what neither dared say out loud yet.

Johnny’s smile was small, laced with both frustration and promise. “Not yet,” he murmured.

“No,” you agreed, voice soft but sure. “We’ll take our time.”

Side by side, you finally turned toward the others, the night suddenly feeling both too short and full of promise all at once.

The lab was a constellation of softly humming machines and glowing holograms, the gentle pulse of data streaming from the Kepler Array lighting your face in cool blues and greens. Reed’s notes were sprawled across the holo-display, a meticulous mess of edits and rewrites that blurred into the small hours of the morning. You rubbed a hand over your eyes, feeling the familiar ache of exhaustion settle like a weight in your bones.

Without thinking, you reached for the third cup of coffee beside you, but it was already gone. A soft knock on the counter behind you made you look up. Johnny holding a fresh cup of coffee, the warmth of it radiating even through the ceramic. You hadn’t even heard the elevator doors open.

“Thought you could use this,” he said, voice low and steady, not a trace of the usual showmanship. His eyes flickered with something tender, a quiet encouragement that made your chest tighten.

You smiled, fingers brushing the rim of the cup. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Johnny stepped closer, careful not to disturb the delicate web of papers and holograms. H.E.R.B.I.E. rolled in behind him, carrying a tray with a carefully wrapped sandwich and a small container of fruit.

“Look at you,” he said, a teasing grin creeping back in. “You’re practically living here. Not to mention you’re officially H.E.R.B.I.E.’s favourite. He only makes us sandwiches when we ask for them, you get one just for being here.”

You laughed softly, the sound brittle but real. “I don’t have a choice. The paper’s due next week, and Reed won’t stop until it’s perfect.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. set the tray down gently and earned a pat on the head from Johnny, who sat on the edge of the workstation. He watched you with an intensity that made you feel seen beyond the lab coat and the academic pressures.

“Hey,” Johnny said, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “Don’t forget to breathe. I know I’m not the PhD here, but I hear that’s pretty important for staying alive.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no pretence there, just steady, unwavering support.

The hours slipped by, punctuated by quiet moments: Johnny handing you coffee refills, fetching things you forgot, H.E.R.B.I.E. putting on an Etta James record you loved based on Johnny’s recommendation.

When your head finally lolled sideways against the table in a rare moment of surrender, Johnny caught you before you fell, the warmth of his arms a balm against the stress that threatened to overwhelm you.

The team filtered through occasionally. Sue dropped in for a quick word of encouragement, Ben’s booming laughter echoing from the hall, Reed’s approving nod as he reviewed another revised section.

And always Johnny, your constant anchor in the storm of brutal academia.

You leaned back in your chair, the exhaustion settling deep into your muscles, your eyes tracing the constellation of blinking lights and streaming data on the console. For a moment, you let yourself drift, thinking about how utterly unlike the glossy headlines and magazine covers this scene was.

No perfectly tailored dress, no flawless makeup, no rehearsed smiles for the cameras. Just coffee-stained notes, tired eyes, and a stubborn mind refusing to give up.

If those tabloid writers could see you now—unpolished, raw, hunched over a hologram with your hair a tangled mess and your fingers stained with ink and caffeine—they’d probably call it a meltdown or a bombshell burn-out. But you knew better.

This was your work. The real work.

The moments when you weren’t the image of effortless glamour, but the person who connected dots no one else could see, who stayed up past midnight chasing anomalies, who rewrote papers until every word carried the weight of truth.

You were always going to be the bombshell astrophysicist, but now you could prove that you had the brains to back it up, the talent to own it, and the experience to make your mark.

And this time, you weren’t alone.

Johnny’s quiet presence wasn’t just a comfort. It was the kind of support that turned chaos into something manageable, the kind of steady hand that let you finally believe you could thrive, not just survive.

The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of machines and the faint rustle of papers. Afternoon light spilt through the tall windows, pooling gold on the steel counters and screens cluttered with equations and data sets. You sat at the long table, fingers still tingling from hours of typing, your mind a swirl of corrections and rewrites, exhaustion and anticipation.

Reed’s presence was steady beside you as he set the final version of the paper down with a deliberate calm that made your heart race despite the fatigue. His eyes, the eyes of a man who rarely allowed himself to show vulnerability, were locked on you.

“This is... exceptional,” Reed said quietly, voice low but steady. “I’ve read every draft, every line. But this—this is something else. Your insight connected pieces of the puzzle no one else even noticed. You saw the anomalies not as isolated noise, but as a pattern. A map pointing to the unknown.”

You blinked, identifying his words as more than praise. It was recognition. The kind that whispered, You belong here.

Then Reed shifted, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. “I’m putting your name first on this paper.”

You caught your breath. The significance hit you like a jolt.

In the academic world—especially one as competitive and hierarchical as astrophysics—the lead author was sacred territory. Usually reserved for the most senior scientist, the one with the longest CV, the most grants, the most authority. To Reed, the titan of the field, to willingly hand over that spot was almost unheard of.

“I want this to be your moment,” Reed said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not because I have to, but because you earned it. More than anyone on this team. Your work made this publication possible. And this is just the beginning. At the Future Foundation, we want to help you build your career. Not just in name, but in respect. In freedom. Right here at the Baxter Building.”

You exhaled shakily, feeling a fierce, unexpected surge of emotions. Pride, relief, and a deep sense of safety. Here was a place that saw you, really saw you. Not just the bombshell who turned heads in the tabloids, but the mind behind the equations, the relentless seeker of truth.

You thought of every late night spent battling doubt, every article that questioned your credibility, every sideways glance from peers who couldn’t reconcile your beauty with your brilliance. And now, here was Reed Richards—your mentor, your colleague, your champion—showing you that you belonged. That your voice mattered.

You smiled, that radiant, unstoppable smile that had carried you through more than you liked to admit. “Thank you so much.”

Reed’s eyes softened, a rare softness breaking through his usual measured composure. “You have no need to thank me. You’ve earned every bit of this, and more.” He paused, then leaned in slightly, his voice quiet but resolute. “It is my hope, and the Future Foundation’s, that you will continue to conduct your research here, with the full support of the team. We want you to have your own lab in the Baxter Building. Whatever you need to push this work further—funding, equipment, personnel—we will provide it, within reason. Consider it an investment in not just the future of astrophysics, but in you.”

You blinked, stunned. The sheer scope of the offer was borderline incomprehensible. This was more than a job or a title. It was a vote of confidence, a declaration of belonging. You were being given the keys to the city, scientifically speaking, and you had the freedom to do whatever your heart desired next.

Reed smiled then, a real, open smile. “I want you to know it’s been an honour mentoring you. Not just because you’re the future of the field but because you’re the present. Your work is invaluable. Your mind is brilliant. I’m excited to see what you’ll do next.”

You felt your throat tighten. The weight of those words, after so many nights of doubt and struggle, was almost overwhelming. You hesitated a moment before standing, and Reed rose too, closing the distance between you.

When you pulled back, Reed looked at you, eyes sharp and warm. “So, what do you want to do next?”

You grinned, heart pounding in your chest. “Right now? All I want is to go tell Johnny.”

You paused in the hall outside Johnny’s door, taking a deep breath as your fingers brushed the cool wood. You hadn’t had the time to rehearse this moment, and now, standing here, you felt your heart hammering. Nerves twisted in ways both familiar and new.

Tentatively, you knocked.

“Uh—come in!” came his voice, higher-pitched than usual, carrying that unmistakable mix of surprise and delight.

You opened the door, and the sight that greeted you made your chest stutter. Johnny was halfway between tidying and abandoning the task altogether: pillows scattered across the floor, vinyl records perched precariously on his bed, a half-empty mug teetering on the edge of his nightstand. He froze the moment he saw you, blue eyes wide and golden with shock, then smiled so broadly it nearly made you stumble forward.

“You—what—how—” Johnny stammered, flinging a pillow onto the bed with too much force. “You’re here! I—wait, hold on, don’t just—oh man, it’s a mess.” His usual grin faltered into a panicked, adorable frown. He ducked to snag another pillow off the floor, knocking a stack of records onto the carpet. “Okay, fine. This is fine. Totally fine. You’re here. And I’m— I was just cleaning.”

You laughed softly, letting the nerves of the hallway slip away. Stepping closer, you brushed the hair from Johnny’s forehead. “I’ve always assumed your room would be a little chaotic. But,” You paused, smiling softly, “it’s kind of charming.”

Johnny’s eyes softened, and he wasn’t fumbling anymore. “Charming? That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my room. But now I’m blushing, and it’s— look, I’m a disaster right now, but you’re here.”

You tilted your head, heart thudding. “I come bearing news.”

“Oh?” His voice was teasing now, but his pulse betrayed him. “You’re going to make me proud, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, breath catching. “The paper’s ready for peer review. Reed is putting my name first. And…” Johnny nodded encouragingly, like he couldn’t believe there was even more good news. “He wants me to stay. The Future Foundation is giving me my own lab, full funding and everything.”

Johnny’s jaw dropped. “That’s huge. That’s amazing. You’ve earned it. You’ve always been this brilliant, unstoppable—no, scratch that—you’ve always been…” He stopped, flustered, eyes darting to yours and then down to your lips and back up again. “…everything anyone could hope for. I’m just— I don’t even know what to say.”

You laughed, feeling that fond happiness building up in your chest. “You’re cute when you’re panicking,” you mused.

He grabbed your hands, holding them tight. “Cute doesn’t cover it. You’re just extraordinary, and I’m a complete mess and I wasn’t expecting you, and I… I just—” Johnny’s eyes flicked to your lips again, then back to your eyes, panic and desire tangled in equal parts.

You took a deep breath, leaning forward just slightly. “I’ve wanted to tell you… I’ve wanted to be with you for a while now.”

Johnny’s lips parted, a shiver running through him. “I’ve been waiting to hear that. And to say it back.”

Your hands lifted, trembling slightly, and cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing lightly against the warm planes of his cheeks. Johnny’s eyes flicked to yours, dark and wide, and for a heartbeat the world shrank to nothing but the two of you. Slowly, painfully, and deliberately, you tilted his face down toward yours, every movement weighted with the things neither of you had dared to say.

Johnny didn’t pull away. His lips parted just a fraction, and you caught a soft hitch in his breath, tiny and raw, that sent your pulse spiking. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to close the distance.

Your foreheads brushed first, soft, almost trembling contact, and his eyes fluttered shut. Heat pooled low in your chest, a slow burn that throbbed through your arms, your stomach, every inch of you. His lips hovered against yours, so close it was dizzying—so close it was painful.

Then, almost without thinking, your hands slid higher, fingers threading through his hair, cupping the back of his neck as you tilted your head, brushing your lips against his. The contact was feather-light, barely there, yet it sent shivers racing across your spine. Johnny’s hands lifted instinctively, one pressing to your waist, the other along your back, grounding him as much as grounding you.

It started slow, tentative, but the heat that radiated from him pulled you in inexorably. Every brush of his lips against yours, every shared, shallow breath, made your knees weaken. You pressed closer, hands moving as if they had a life of their own, memorising the planes of his body, the soft warmth of his chest, the quick, staccato beat of his heart that thundered so loudly you could feel it through your lab coat.

Johnny groaned, low and urgent, and your heart ached with need. You pulled back just a fraction to catch your breath, only to feel him close the distance immediately, impossibly fast, as if any space between you was unbearable. His hands slid higher, one cupping your neck, the other tracing your spine, and you shivered, pressed flush against him, losing the fight to hold yourself apart.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with want, and it was all the permission your racing heart needed.

You tilted your head, letting your lips brush his once more, softly, teasingly, before pressing harder, letting every ounce of longing, every second of frustration, pour into the kiss.

Your hands tangled in his hair, fingers threading through soft strands, while his hands roamed your sides, over your back, up to your shoulders, anchoring you to him. You moved together like two halves rediscovering a whole, slow, staggered steps across the floor as if navigating both desire and the fragile, electric tension of finally being together.

A sigh escaped you when your lips parted for air, and his forehead rested against yours, pulses wild. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, voice rough, vulnerable, trembling with every beat of his heart.

“You have no idea,” you whispered, your hands lingering on his jaw, tilting his face down to yours again. You kissed him again, deeper, fiercer, letting months of slow-burning longing and the playful banter break through the surface.

Between kisses, you laughed breathlessly. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”

Johnny grinned against your lips. “I’ve imagined it a thousand times, and it’s even better than I ever dreamed.”

His hands gripped your sides as you pressed against him, and yours tightened in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Every soft moan, every whispered gasp, every racing heartbeat proved you’d both held back for too long. The kiss was messy, greedy, desperate, and perfect all at once.

Finally, you broke apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths ragged, lips swollen and tingling. “Better than you ever dreamed, huh?” you teased softly, voice breathless but triumphant.

“Definitely,” Johnny admitted, shaking his head in disbelief, a slow, radiant grin spreading across his face. “Can you blame a guy? God forbid he dreams about his girlfriend before he gets a chance to tell her.”

You laughed softly, heart soaring. “Girlfriend,” you murmured, letting the word taste on your tongue, letting it sink in. “I like the sound of that.”

He kissed you again, slow this time, deliberate, savouring every inch of you, letting the fire settle into a warm, unshakable rhythm. The world outside his room, the stress of work, all fell away. Only this, only you, only him.

“You’re incredible,” Johnny whispered once more, and this time it felt like a vow, a promise, a beginning. You pressed your lips to his again, slower, deeper, letting your sighs mingle in the warm glow, finally free to show the love that had been simmering beneath months of longing.

You finally pulled back, breathing ragged but steadying as the heat of the kiss lingered on your lips. Johnny’s arms wrapped around you, strong and protective, pressing you flush against him as if he never wanted to let go.

“You’re really here,” Johnny murmured, voice low, roughened by the mix of laughter and longing. His lips brushed against your temple as he pressed a gentle kiss there.

You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes glittering with the same mix of disbelief and joy. “I know,” you whispered, tracing a line along his jaw. “It’s finally real. No holding back.”

He smiled, and it was a slow, soft thing that made your chest swell. “I’ve been waiting for this,” Johnny admitted.

“So have I,” you replied, voice trembling with the same mixture of awe and relief. “I… I have so much I want to tell you. About the paper, about Reed putting me first, about having my own lab. You were the first person I wanted to tell.”

His hands slid down to cup your waist again, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’m listening, trouble,” he said, leading you to a chair. You laughed at the nickname. “Tell me everything.”

And as you began to recount Reed’s offer, the paper being ready for peer review, and your new lab above his, his smile never wavered, never faltered. Johnny was there, entirely present, sharing in your triumph, sharing in your life.

You stayed entwined like that until the soft crackle of the record reached its final notes. Johnny, ever thoughtful, lifted the needle and gently put on a new record. The familiar warmth of the music filled the space around you both. Eventually, the music played on quietly in the background as exhaustion and contentment tugged at your eyelids, and you both drifted off in the first real sleep you’d had in weeks.

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