୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who follows you everywhere like a lost puppy, constantly playing with your hair, fingers, or the hem of your shirt.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who always gives you first pick on drugs before selling them.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who whines when he doesn’t have your attention, putting on a whole show just for a kiss.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who fucks the living shit out of you after every performance, rambling about how much he loves you.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who isn’t really fond of big fancy dinners, so he sets up blankets in the back of his van, orders takeout, and roll you a couple joints. he claims it’s the most romantic thing ever.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who is seriously considering getting your name tattooed on him.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who eats you out like he’s been starved, devouring every last bit, ignoring your cries from overstimulation.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who sneaks in your window at night and says he’s only staying for an hour before falling asleep. he wakes up with ten minutes to make it home before your parents find out.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who gently kisses your forehead before leaving, careful to not wake his sleeping beauty. you always wake up to a note that says “i love you” and a hoodie drenched in his cologne.
୨ৎ🍓boyfriend!eddie who fingers you with his rings on.
Hi!!! Can I request fic when shy reader has a big crush on Eddie and tries to talk to him at school?
He would be so surprised and excited when he realized what she means 💜
Thank you!!!
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻
Hi
Y/N was too shy to be known by many people. She kept to herself, and had a few friends. She didn't like to talk to strangers, and she didn't like to be the center of attention. Which is why she was surprised to catch herself smiling at Eddie Munson.
Eddie Munson didn't have a shy bone in his body. He was unapologetically loud. He loved being the center of attention, even if it was not good attention. Y/N wasn't sure if it was because he was the opposite of her that her crush on him was massive. She really wanted to talk to him and get to know him, but she wasn't sure she was capable of it.
The first time she tried was awful. She smoothed out her clothes and walked over to his desk as the bell rang.
"Hi,"
Eddie looked up from his desk and smiled at the pretty girl in front of him. He didn't know much about her, just aware she was as quiet as a mouse and beautiful.
"Hi," he replied. His smile was warm and inviting, once her stomach fluttered she panicked and walked out of the classroom. Eddie looked at the empty spot in front of him, a little confused.
~
Then she tried again. He was trying to shove everything in his locker before it fell back out, slamming it shut with a victory smile.
"Hi, Eddie!"
Eddie smiled as she stood near him. He eyed her cute outfit and the shyness in her eyes. "Hi, Y/N!" The sound of her name coming from his lips made her cheeks flush. She opened her mouth to say more but his brown eyes made her nervous.
"Bye!" She squeaked and walked away. Eddie watched until she disappeared around the corner, the smile still on his face.
~
Did she try again? Yes, yes she did. It seemed every time she tried, she slowly made progress by adding more words. But once he replied, she was gone in a flash.
~
"Hi!"
"Hi!"
~
"Hi"
"Hi"
~
"Hi...uh hi"
"Hi times two"
~
Eddie wasn't quite sure what she was doing. He knew she was shy, and figured he made her nervous. He found it adorable that she was scurry away from him then came back the next day and tried again. He was curious as to why out of everyone, she wanted to talk to him. Then that led him to wonder if she had a crush. At first, he laughed it off, there was no way she had a crush on him. But he began to notice she looked at him....a lot. Which he very much enjoyed, he liked the way she looked away and hid away when he caught her.
He tried his best not to seem scary, he'd give her smiles and only gaze at her softly. He hoped it would make her comfortable enough to get out the words she wanted. He sometimes spoke first, but she didn't carry the conversation very far. If his suspicion was right, he was happy. He found her cute, and if she liked him, he'd be eager to see where things could go. He was curious to learn more about her and see what kind of person she was.
~~~
Y/N was unaware that Eddie was behind her when she closed her locker. She turned around and jumped.
"If we skip the hi part, can I ask you out before you run away?"
She was in shock, and believed she did not hear him right. Y/N barely could speak any words to Eddie, how did she make a good impression?
"I-uh," she stuttered
"Please, don't be nervous!" Eddie tried to calm her down and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Unaware that his touch made her heart race and she felt like she swallowed her tongue. "I want to talk to you. I enjoy our small interactions." She calmed down at his smile. She tried to shake off her nerves and smiled back at him.
"I'm Y/N. I think you should know that before you ask anything," he laughed at her comment and she felt pride in her chest. He removed his hands and she tried not to miss it.
"Nice to formally meet you, I'm Eddie Munson. Are you free tonight? Maybe grab something to eat?' he shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets. He figured he'd make the move for her, but now he was worried maybe that wasn't what she wanted.
"I'd love to," Y/N smiled.
"You have a pen?" He asked, because he knew he didn't have shit in his empty backpack. She nodded and quickly dug into her bag and pulled out a black pen. "May I?" He grabbed the pen and nodded to her hand.
"Oh! Go ahead," she said and placed her hand in front of him. She tried to control herself as his skin touched hers. The pen tickled her skin as he wrote down his number.
"Call me when you get home and we'll plan the details," he said. She didn't miss that he placed the pen in his pocket.
"Okay, yeah," she excitedly nodded. He gave her a cheeky smile and a nod that made her internally scream. Once he disappeared, she looked at her hand and squealed. All digits scribbled in his handwriting on her hand.
Eddie smiled as he heard the squeal from around the corner. He let out the breath he had held and was impressed by how well he had faked that confidence. He walked to his van and cringed at the smell. He made a mental note to steal an air freshener from a gas station on the way home.
Btw Season 5 gave us zero content of this precious chaotic baby. Not a flashback, not a memory, not a blurry frame in the background, not even a suspiciously-shaped shadow. Nothing. Honestly? Cruel.
I wasn’t expecting him to come back, but c’mon… something?? Especially when Dustin is apparently carrying the entire emotional aftermath on his back (which I loved btw), but it’s wild that he’s the only one who seems affected by Eddie’s death. Like?? The others knew him too?? Max in S4 was the only one grieving Billy but it made sense because he was… well, Billy.
Justice for this sweet boy. He deserved at least one dramatic flashback. (And we deserve it too).
Where We're Going, We Don't Need Sleds
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Evil Woman
Summary: Eddie and EW and Baby Bro will be flyin' down that hill.
Contains: A snowy day, a makeshift sled, the ride of a lifetime.
Words: 1.2k | Prompt: Sledding | Other Fluffmas Fics
"We should go sledding."
My pillow should stop talking, you think, half-asleep and half-lying on top of Eddie on the couch as a re-run of some dumb game show plays in the background.
"We don't have any sleds," Gareth argues.
"Where we're going, we don't need sleds," Eddie says mysteriously.
Despite your minor annoyance at having your dozing interrupted, you chuckle against him.
"C'mon," he says softly, giving you a little nudge. "Let's go find something to sled on."
"The Little Drummer Boy is correct," you yawn. "The people who lived here before left a pair of plastic toboggans, but they both had cracks in 'em, so Mom tossed 'em."
"Listen up, rich kids," Eddie says with authority. "You don't need a store-bought sled to go sledding. I, myself, have been sledding just about every year since I could walk, despite never having owned a real sled."
"Using what?" you ask.
"I'm so happy you asked, Malicious Dame," he says in a snooty accent. "Look, I've been down the hills of Hawkins on pizza boxes, trash can lids, a metal pan that almost got me murdered, and a McDonalds tray. The possibilities are endless."
"A pan that almost got you murdered?" you ask, at the same time Gareth says, "A McDonalds tray?"
"My point is that we've got plenty of stuff to choose from," he says, shaking with excitement. "Let's go hunt!"
You groan, but reluctantly roll aside so he can get up. Eddie then grabs your wrists and pulls you off the couch. You both stand, staring at Gareth, until he finally grabs the remote and turns the TV off and gets out of his chair with a groan.
"To the garage!" Eddie says, pointing and marching off. You look to Gareth, shrug, and follow.
"What the hell are we even looking for?" Gareth grumbles when you get to the considerably cooler garage.
"Something with a smooth bottom," Eddie grumbles, bending over and rifling through through a box of junk.
You look to Gareth with a smirk. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. You walk up behind Eddie and give his ass a squeeze. He squeaks in surprise, standing and twisting to glare at you.
"Like that?" you ask innocently.
Eddie grabs your shoulders and twirls you around and pushes you toward the closet.
"Get to huntin', horn-dog!" he orders.
You laugh and open the door, wondering how you accumulated this much crap since you moved here. You heave a sigh and start hunting.
"Will this work?"
Everyone turns to find Gareth holding up the lid to the trash can.
"Handle on top," Eddie shakes his head. "No bueno."
You stick your head back in the closet that you can't physically get in, continuing your hunt, until you feel a sudden warmth at your cold backside. You twist to find Eddie reaching over your shoulder and pulling out something that looks like a big raincoat.
"What's this?"
"Hell if I know," you shrug.
Eddie pulls it out and starts unfolding.
"Is this an air mattress?" he asks excitedly.
"Hell if I know," you repeat. You've never seen it before.
Eddie's eyes sparkle with joy as he gets it unfolded and confirms that it is, indeed, an air mattress.
"Do you have a pump?"
"We have a pump for bike tires," Gareth offers.
"That'll work!"
Gareth quickly locates it and hands it over, and one minute later, Eddie is hunched over, pumping up and down on the stick-shaped tire pump… while the air mattress lies limp.
"It might be dry rotted," Gareth says.
"Give it a minute!" Eddie barks, pumping as fast as his arms will allow.
You all watch the sad piece of vinyl, waiting for a sign of life.
And then, you get it.
"It's alive!" Eddie exclaims, pumping feverishly. Puffs of air enter the mattress, one push at a time, and it begins to take shape.
"Here, take a break," Gareth offers, shocking you both. Eddie steps aside, letting Gareth take over, and collapses on the old couch. You sit next to him, and the three of you watch the air mattress slowly take shape. When Gareth starts huffing and puffing, you take over.
An hour later, you all stand triumphantly around your fully inflated air mattress.
(Thank God it was only a small one.)
"Alright, suit up, we're going sledding," Eddie orders excitedly, scrambling into the house for warmer clothes. You and Gareth, feeling the secondhand excitement, follow him inside and start layering up.
All three of you help carry the air mattress out of the garage and to the top of the reasonably sloped hill in your back yard.
"Who goes first?" Gareth asks.
"Eddie," you answer quickly. This was his idea. He found the mattress. He did most of the pumping. This honor is his.
"What am I, your guinea pig?" he asks, eyes twinkling.
"Get on that damn mattress before I throw you down this hill," you scoff.
He laughs and gets on it gently, like he's scared to pop it. He spreads out, one limb on each edge. You and Gareth get behind him, giving the mattress a shove on the count of one, two, three.
Eddie sails down the hill and doesn't stop until he's almost at the fence, popping up with raised fists and a triumphant whoop. He puts the mattress up on its side and starts trying to get it back up the hill, but you get a better idea. You run back to the garage and look for a length of rope that's here somewhere; there's a handle on the top side of the mattress, and you can tie it around and simply pull the thing back up the hill instead of trying to carry it.
Gareth and Eddie almost have the mattress wrestled back to the top of the hill by the time you locate and return with the rope. You wait until they drop it back to the track Eddie wore in before attaching the rope.
"To make it easier to get it back up," you explain, when you realize they're staring at you.
"You know I never have trouble getting it back up," Eddie grins.
"Oh my God," Gareth groans, eyes rolled to the sky.
You and Eddie cackle.
"Think it'll hold two of us?" you ask.
"This baby's solid," he says proudly. "I think she'll hold all three of us."
"Wanna?" you ask.
"Hell yeah!"
The three of you lie on your stomachs, inching forward with your toes digging into the snow behind you, until you start to pick up speed. You and Eddie and Gareth sail down the big hill in your back yard, and gain so much momentum with the extra weight, that you're… oh God, you're going to crash into the fence. You squeal, and Gareth yells "shiiiit!" and the mattress crashes into the fence at the bottom of the hill, throwing you all into the wooden boards and then back into the snow. Not one of you landed on the damn mattress.
"Ow," you say simply.
"Fuck me," Gareth grumbles.
"That was awesome!" Eddie yells, popping up and grabbing the rope. "Let's go again!"
Eddie didn't think he'd ever want kids, not really anyway, it just wasn't something he thought he was built for.
A third time senior who sells weed in between the classes he's never paid very much attention to, and the local freak that spends his spare time playing dnd with the rest of his friends who are also deemed losers by jocks who can't use their brains for longer then a minute. He's never had a steady job or been the perfect grade A mentor that Dustin likes to paint him as after a particularly good campaign.
He hadn't thought much about what kind of father he might be but figured that the mess that was his life was enough to showcase he wouldn't be a very good one.
Right now though he starts to second guess those previously self-deprecating thoughts. You're babysitting one of your younger cousins, pulling her into your lap to help her eat a little less messily, she giggles at nothing and it puts a bright smile on your face. You jokingly make airplane noises as you spoon another bite into her mouth making her laugh harder with cheeks round like a chipmunk.
Eddie doesn't expect his heart to thump the way it does at the sight of you with a kid. You're so good with her. He continues to watch from the couch almost in haze and weirdly enough his eyes burn. He begins to wonder what you'd look like walking around with a baby on your hip, a baby with your eyes and a wild head of hair that resembles his own.
Guilt washes over him in unexpected waves, he tries to remind himself that it's okay to have thoughts like this- you're his girlfriend so it wouldn't be unreasonable for him to imagine a future with you, the two of you have even made offhand comments about marriage to each other, joking in tone but always serious. Seeing you like this though, a sweet little girl giggling and squirming in your lap like you're her safe place just as you are for him, cements the cardinal need he feels.
He wants this kind of future with you, a ring on both of your fingers to solidify it, he'd pay better attention in class and try his hand at a million different jobs if it meant proving to you the he could commit to something like this in the future.
You look over at him from your seat and smile, wide and aching with the amount of love you hold for him, and he thinks, "yeah, this is it for me."
SUMMARY: Everybody in Hawkins knows that you are sickeningly sweet to everyone you meet. Nobody, however, understands that quite as much as Eddie Munson, and he will stop at nothing to make sure that you know how insanely loved you are.
NOTES: Mild profanity, reader is an absolute sweetheart, protective!Eddie, very minor hurt/comfort vibes, mutual pining.
NAVIGATION | S.T MASTERLIST | KO-FI
You never really meant to become the one person in Hawkins High who remembered so many people’s birthdays. It just happened. You liked making things nice. You liked seeing someone’s face light up when you gave them a cookie wrapped in cling film or a sweet treat you had scavenged from your own lunch. It pleased you to be kind. It felt like something you could contribute, even when everything else about school made your stomach twist in that thin, sour way.
Eddie Munson saw it before you realised he had been paying attention at all. The boy was a walking ruckus. He burst down corridors like he was the frontman of a band only he could hear, chains jangling, his voice echoing off lockers, hair refusing to behave in any discernible order. Even from a distance he had an effect on you, like static brushing across skin, both thrilling and a tiny bit unsettling. There were days you caught him looking straight at you and you had no idea what to do with the molten warmth that sparked behind your ribs.
He’d been staring a lot lately. More than usual. You assumed he was simply amused by how much you fussed over people. You had no idea he was keeping count of every time you pressed a bandaid into someone’s hand for a simple scratch, or offered younger students your umbrella when the sky opened over the car park.
Dustin Henderson, who possessed the subtlety of a fire alarm, caught on faster than anyone. He started giving you these little looks whenever Eddie mentioned you, a glint that suggested he knew exactly what was happening. The boy was determined to stir something that already simmered too close to the surface.
You were shelving returned books in the library on a bleak Tuesday afternoon when it really began. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead and the heating rattled as though the pipes were filled with gravel. Eddie strolled in without even pretending he had legitimate business. His boots thumped in that familiar way that made your heart perform tricks in your chest.
Eddie leaned on the counter, tapping a pencil you could have sworn he’d stolen. His smile was wide, the sort that tried its best to hide nerves but never quite succeeded. You noticed these things about him. You noticed more than you let on.
“Got anything new for me?” he asked, gaze flicking towards the fantasy section where he pretended to browse.
“I showed you the new arrivals yesterday,” you reminded him, soft voice disappearing into the hush of the room. “Not sure the library can replenish itself overnight.”
“Shame. I was hoping for something thrilling.” His eyes dropped to yours. “Maybe a little romantic.”
The comment had your pulse tripping, though you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. People always assumed you were calm. They had no idea how loud everything felt on the inside.
Before you could respond, Jason Carver barged in with his usual graceless heaviness, nearly knocking a stack of science textbooks off their trolley. He didn’t apologise. He never did.
Jason spotted you arranging a pile of bookmarks. “Hey, could you make a few more of these? Coach wants something for the team to give out at that charity thing. You did the others, right?”
Your stomach sank. You had already made forty of them last week when he’d said, ‘it won’t take long for someone like you’. He’d smiled while saying it, the kind of smile that made your bones feel hollow.
“I’ve still got homework,” you said gently. “I’m not sure I’ll have time.”
Jason waved your concern away. “C’mon, you’re good at this stuff. Just whip some up tonight.”
Before you replied, Eddie straightened, the noise of it sharp in the quiet room. He planted himself a step closer to you, arms folding in a way that felt protective without being overbearing.
“She just said she’s busy,” he told Jason, tone light but absolutely firm. “Are you being ignorant today or is that just a natural talent?”
Jason scoffed. “Stay out of it, freak.”
“No problem,” Eddie replied. “Happy to stay out of it, long as you stop treating her like your personal craft machine.”
Heat crept up your neck. People didn’t usually defend you. It wasn’t that they didn’t care. They just assumed your gentleness meant permission.
Jason huffed and backed off, muttering something about the ‘weirdos taking over’. The library door swung shut behind him. The silence left behind felt enormous.
You focused on straightening a pile of returned novels, fingers trembling slightly. Eddie stood beside you, not saying anything for a moment. There was surprising quiet around him now, as if the loudest person you knew had chosen to match your softness.
“He always do that?” he asked, turning the pencil over in his hands.
You didn’t want to make a fuss. You rarely did. “I think he just doesn’t realise how much time it takes.”
“I think he realises perfectly well,” Eddie muttered, frowning. “People like him always do. They count on you being too kind to kick up a scene.”
“I don’t want a scene,” you said. “It never helps.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to let yourself get trampled.”
The words slipped in under your ribs, unsettling in their accuracy. No one ever said things like that to you. No one looked at you as though your feelings were urgent.
You stepped back, giving yourself a moment to breathe. “It’s not that important.”
“It is to me,” Eddie said.
The confession landed between you, soft as a leaf and heavy as stone. Your breath caught. His cheeks coloured in a way you had never seen before. Not on Eddie.
An awkward hum rose in your throat before you managed to say, “Thank you.”
He nodded, shaky and relieved. “Any time.”
For the rest of the afternoon he lingered in the quiet aisles, helping you stack books even when he put half of them in the wrong place. He looked at you like you hung the moon. Dustin’s words echoed distantly from last week, when he cornered you outside the science labs, ‘He’s not like that with anyone else, you know. He notices things about you’.
You told Dustin he was imagining things. Now, you weren’t sure.
When the final bell rang, Eddie walked you to the school gate. The sky had clouded over, grey and soft, the air thick with the promise of rain. He kicked at gravel as though searching for the right words.
“You alright?” he asked at last.
You nodded, though you wished you could find the courage to say everything that swelled inside your chest. Gratitude, embarrassment, something warm and terrifying all at once.
“See you tomorrow,” he said, flashing you a smile that lingered long after he left.
You watched him disappear across the car park. You didn’t realise until later that your heart had been glowing the whole way home.
Dustin cornered Eddie the next morning near the vending machines. It was barely eight and Eddie already looked frayed round the edges, pacing as if trying to burn off whatever storm brewed inside him.
“You look terrible,” Dustin said through a mouthful of crisps. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Not the point,” Eddie muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, only succeeding in making it stick up more wildly. “You should’ve seen Carver yesterday. Had her doing his homework but with glitter or something. Absolute parasite.”
Dustin stared. “He asked her for bookmarks.”
“Yeah, and? You know those take ages. She does little patterns and stuff. It’s labour, Henderson. She’s doing unpaid labour for a guy whose entire personality is hitting things.”
“You’re very passionate.”
“Someone has to be.” Eddie leaned against the vending machine, tapping his boot. “She looked so small. You should’ve seen her shoulders. All tense. Kept pretending she didn’t mind.”
Dustin swallowed another handful of crisps through a hearty laugh. “You’re completely gone for her.”
Eddie froze. “I am not.”
“You’re pacing like a dad waiting for a baby to be born. You’re describing her shoulders.”
“They were tense.”
“That’s my point.”
Eddie pushed off the machine, jittery. “I just hate seeing her taken advantage of. She’s too kind. She gives people cookies and she gives me those little heart attacks.”
“You mean heart-warming feelings?”
“Same difference.”
Dustin stuffing the rest of the bag away seemed like his attempt to be serious. “If you like her, you could tell her, you know.”
Eddie scoffed. “Are you kidding? She’s delicate.”
“She’s not made of glass.”
“She might as well be. Have you seen the way she smiles? It’s like a small animal trusting you for the first time. You make one wrong move and poof, she disappears into a log.”
“Into a log? She’s not a worm, dude.”
“It’s a metaphorical log!”
Dustin sighed with the weariness of someone decades older. “Just be honest with her.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie muttered, though the idea made him feel faint.
You arrived not long after, clutching your books to your chest, cheeks still tingling from the cold. Eddie brightened instantly. He didn’t mean to. He’d sell his soul before admitting how reflexive it had become.
You joined them by the lockers. Dustin greeted you eagerly. Eddie hovered, trying to decide whether to say good morning or recite sonnets at your feet. He settled for a quiet, “Hey.”
Your smile, small and soft, made him look away before he grinned too widely. You didn’t notice. You never did.
“Dustin, you dropped something,” you said, bending to pick up a folded bit of paper near his shoe.
Eddie caught his breath. You’d swept your hair forward and the whole hallway seemed to slow down. He nearly said something embarrassing just from watching the way your fingers brushed the floor.
“It’s from Mike,” Dustin explained, stuffing it into his bag. “He’s probably complaining about something unimportant.”
“Oh,” you murmured. You didn’t question it.
Jason strode through the corridor then, and your posture changed in an instant. Eddie spotted it immediately. Your shoulders subtly drew in, chin dipping, gaze dropping to the laces of your shoes.
Jason noticed you. That was the problem. “Hey,” he called, without bothering to sound pleasant. “About those bookmarks.”
You opened your mouth but Eddie spoke first. “She said no.”
Jason’s jaw flexed. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I know,” Eddie replied, standing beside you in a way that felt protective rather than confrontational. “Still relevant information.”
Jason looked at you again. “You didn’t finish them?”
“I told you I had homework,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.
Jason sighed loudly, an exaggerated sound that made your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Could’ve just said you weren’t up for it.”
That hurt. Eddie saw it. He saw everything. The way your throat tightened. The way your fingers curled in towards your palms. He knew you would apologise, even though you didn’t owe anyone a thing.
“She did,” Eddie said. “You just don’t listen.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not dealing with you this morning.”
He walked off with a shake of his head. A few students snickered under their breaths. You looked like you wanted to sink through the linoleum.
Eddie wanted to march after Jason and express certain opinions with strong vocabulary. He didn’t. He turned to you instead.
“You alright?” he asked gently.
You nodded, though your eyes darted away. “It’s fine.”
“It isn’t.”
Some tension flickered across your face. You didn’t like arguments, even when they weren’t yours. You didn’t like people raising their voices or drawing attention. Every instinct in you seemed built to keep the peace.
Dustin, surprisingly gentle, said, “You don’t have to say yes to everything.”
“I know.” Your voice sounded brittle.
Eddie’s chest ached. He wanted to place a hand over your heart and cradle it like something precious. He wanted to tell you that you were allowed to take up space. Allowed to say no. Allowed to exist without being chewed up by people who mistook softness for weakness.
The bell rang. Students shuffled off. You breathed out slowly before saying, “Thank you. Really. Both of you.”
Eddie melted. He couldn’t help it. Your gratitude hit him in the sternum and spread through him like warm tea.
“Anytime,” he said, voice quieter than he intended.
The three of you walked to class together. Eddie deliberately kept his steps slow to match yours. Sometimes you got lost in your thoughts and drifted. He liked following that pace, the calm of it smoothing his usual restlessness.
Dustin peeled off at science, and you and Eddie continued to English. Halfway there he nudged your elbow, very gently. “You know, if people keep taking advantage, you can tell me. I’m not asking you to cause a scene. I can do that part.”
You almost laughed. “I don’t want you to cause one either.”
He pressed his lips together, a thoughtful expression flickering. “Then I’ll cause a very polite one.”
Your smile returned, small but genuine. “You really don’t have to get involved.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t have to. I want to.”
That left you quiet again, though the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. He watched you as you entered class, slipping into your seat with that careful grace of yours.
For the rest of the lesson he barely paid attention. His mind looped one thought over and over:
He would do whatever it took to keep that worry line off your forehead.
It wasn’t love. Not yet. But something was blooming fast and fierce, like a fire catching on dry leaves.
He didn’t realise he’d been staring until you glanced over with a shy, puzzled look. He shivered, looked away, then scribbled nonsense across his notebook.
Dustin was right.
He was gone for you.
The sky was a flat wash of cloud by the time the final bell rang, the sort of drained grey that made the air feel heavy. You held your books close and walked towards the front steps, hoping to slip out before anyone made more requests of you. Your nerves still hadn’t settled. Jason’s sigh kept replaying in your mind, that disappointed sound that wormed its way into places you hated.
Eddie spotted you from across the courtyard. He had been waiting for you, although he would never admit it so plainly. Dustin had already sprinted home, leaving Eddie with instructions to ‘try not to implode’. Eddie had responded with a rude gesture, though the worry in his eyes gave him away.
He jogged over, boots thumping on the concrete. “Heading home?”
“Yes.” Your voice came out softer than usual.
He picked up on it instantly. “Come on. Walk with me. Or I walk with you. Whichever sounds less creepy.”
A tiny smile tugged at your mouth. “You can walk with me, and I’ll walk with you.”
He fell into step beside you, letting the rhythm settle. The wind tugged at your hair and the cold flushed your cheeks a delicate pink. Eddie tried not to look too long in case his mind sprinted directly into dangerous territory.
“You’re quiet,” he said after a moment.
You hesitated. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
He hummed in that way he did when he wasn’t convinced. You reached the pavement and the trees rustled overhead, dead leaves scraping against each other. The noise was soft enough that it didn’t overwhelm you.
“It gets to me sometimes,” you admitted at last. “People assuming I’ll do things. I don’t think they mean harm. They just… assume.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“It’s easier to help than make a fuss.”
“I know,” he said gently. “But it should be your choice. Not theirs.”
You blinked down at your shoes. That sharp coil of emotion twisted under your ribs again, that feeling of being seen in a way you weren’t used to. His voice had softened so much it felt like warm hands cupping something fragile.
“You don’t have to fix it for me,” you murmured.
“I’m not trying to fix you.” His tone had never been more sincere. “I just want you to feel safe. That’s all.”
You didn’t speak for several steps. Your throat felt warm, and you feared if you said anything it might tremble. A minute passed before you said, “Thank you.”
Eddie breathed out slowly, shoulders dropping as though he had been holding something tense and invisible. “Always.”
The wind picked up, blowing your hair across your face. Eddie reached out on instinct, then stopped himself halfway, fingers curling slightly. You brushed the hair behind your ear before he had to make a decision.
“Can I walk you to your place?” he asked. “I know it’s slightly out of my way. Only slightly though, I swear.”
“If you want to,” you said.
“I do.”
You didn’t look at him, but your cheeks warmed just enough that he felt it like sunlight.
You walked in comfortable quiet for a while. Dogs barked behind fences, a car rattled past, someone in a front garden swore at a hedge. Eddie kept close without crowding you. He kept checking your expression out of the corner of his eye, and each time he caught a little crease between your brows, something protective flared so strongly he had to clench his jaw.
When you reached your road, he slowed. There were puddles lined up like silver coins along the curb. You stepped around them with delicate precision.
“Carver won’t bother you again,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
He let out a breath of a laugh. “For defending the nicest person in the whole school? Worth it.”
You shook your head but your smile gave you away. Eddie felt his heartbeat scramble like it had tripped over a step.
You arrived outside your house. The curtains were half drawn and the porch light flickered faintly, though it wasn’t dark yet. You turned to him, holding your books a little tighter.
“Thank you for walking with me,” you said. “I’m sorry if I’ve been strange today.”
“You haven’t.” He struggled for words. “You’ve been brilliant. You’re always brilliant.”
Your eyes widened slightly at that. He rubbed the back of his neck. His rings clicked together nervously. For a moment you both stood there, caught between the desire to step closer and the fear of disrupting something delicate.
He cleared his throat. “Can I say something without you running away?”
“I don’t run,” you said quietly.
“You sort of retreat into yourself like a shy woodland creature.”
You huffed a laugh. “You can say something. I won’t retreat.”
Eddie shifted his weight. “Yesterday, when Carver acted like you owed him something, I got angry. Proper angry. Not because of the bookmarks or any of that. Because you looked so… small. Not literally. Just… like someone had dimmed you.”
Your breath caught. He swallowed hard.
“I hate when people take advantage of you,” he continued. “You’re kind. You care. You remember things no one else notices. And it kills me that people think that means you’re easy to step on.”
“That’s not why I’m kind,” you said in a near whisper.
“I know. That’s what makes it special.”
You didn’t know what to say. His words settled over you like a warm coat, heavy and comforting. He shifted again, looking away briefly, gathering courage like it was loose coins in his pocket.
“I really like you,” he said. “I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just… needed you to know. Because I think you’re the best part of most of my days.”
Your heart fluttered so sharply you had to inhale slowly to steady it. He looked terrified now that he’d spoken, eyes darting to the pavement as if searching for a crack to fall into.
You stepped forward before you lost your nerve. “I like you too.”
His head snapped up. “You do?”
“Yes,” you said, pulse racing. “A lot.”
A grin broke across his face so quickly it was almost ridiculous. He tried to rein it in but failed completely.
“Can I hug you?” he asked.
You nodded. He wrapped his arms around you with a gentleness that surprised even him. He held you as though you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful. You pressed your forehead lightly to his chest, breathing in the faint smell of smoke and something warm beneath it.
When he let go, he looked like he might float off the front step. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice slightly trembling from trying not to explode with happiness.
“Tomorrow,” you echoed.
He walked backwards for a few steps, grinning at you like a fool before turning and nearly tripping over a recycling bin. You laughed softly. His laughter drifted back to you, bright and unguarded.
You stepped inside your house with a heart beating warm and full, already counting the hours until morning.
derwin “d.f.” grunauer x not-the-mrs-yet-grunauer!reader
word count: 500+
summary: CCODs Thanksgiving Week Day 3: Cranberry Sauce | Derwin thinks about his girlfriend at dinner with his family.
warnings: Nothing I can think of!
notes: I hope no one minds the amount of Derwin I’ve got planned/posted for Thanksgiving week :D. I really enjoy writing him and his (almost) wife and just spending time in their little world. I read this over, but feel free to let me know about mistakes!
The Grunauer’s dining room is always the loudest on the block on Thanksgiving day. It made noise in the way only big families could— forks are clinking against porcelain, someone is talking over someone else, the smell of the roasted turkey is hanging in the air. Derwin sits wedged between one of his brothers and the corner of the table, where he’s always been shoved, ever since he could sit upright. He’s pretending to follow a story about a car breaking down on Route 2, though he hadn’t caught the beginning of it. His mind was elsewhere— across town in a little blue house, sitting beside you on your porch steps. He can hear the soft sound of your laugh ringing out in his ears.
He can still see the way you looked at him last week when he’d said something about his hair needing cut. You smiled at him and reached out then, tucking that one unruly curl close to his temple behind his ear instead. His heart had kicked so hard in his chest he’d nearly forgotten his own name. He’s sure his cheeks were redder than any tomato his mama had ever grown. He hadn’t meant to fall for you this fast nor this hard. But now, surrounded by his family and the smell of cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie, all he could think about was the little yellow ribbon you’d worn in your hair dancing last week, and the way your hand had felt tucked against his palm in his coat pocket when you’d taken his arm.
Someone laughs and it knocks him back to the present. The room is swimming with motion that he’d been grateful to miss until now. There were hands passing dishes, glasses being refilled, and his mother’s soft voice rising above it all.
“Derwin, sweetheart— pass the cranberry sauce, won’t you?”
He startles a little, looking up at her and realizing he’d been staring at nothing. “Oh— uh— yes, ma’am,” he says quickly and flashes her a pretty white smile. He fumbles for the dish and hands it over with shaking hands. His mother gives him a fond look and reaches out to smooth back his hair. It’s the kind of look that says I know you’re thinking about her, before she turns back to conversation with one of his brother’s wives.
He glances at his plate, pushing a bit of turkey through the sauce there and lets the noise swallow him up again. He wonders if you’re having dinner with your family now too. Maybe you’re laughing at something your father said or helping your mama set the table. God knows it isn’t as loud in your house, with only the three of you. He wonders if you were thinking of him the way he was thinking of you— you’d taken over every corner of his mind, although he desperately tries not to let your face cloud his every thought. He never wins.
He’d never really understood what people meant when they talked about falling in love before. He thought it would be some big grand thing, a trumpet-blare or a jolt that wouldn’t sneak up on him like this. But here he was, his heart thudding slow and steady in his chest, surrounded by gravy boats and cranberry sauce and laughter from his brothers— and you were sitting at the forefront of his brain. Falling in love felt quiet and certain, and he’s never felt anything better.
A/N: the last flufftober fic is coming guys i promise. but this has been in my head for a while and i had to write it to get it out of my head so i could focus on other things 😅 anyway this is based on both how i am often the only girl in a group and how my dice bag looks with several stranger things dice sets amongst my own dice set -mod angel
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: The freshman boys are surprised by someone they meet in Hellfire.
~~
Joining a new club was always intimidating, but Dustin, Mike, and Lucas were no strangers to Dungeons & Dragons, so they weren’t as nervous as they could’ve been. They had already met Eddie, who had basically recruited them in the cafeteria a couple weeks before the campaign started. That was the scary part; nothing after that could really surprise them.
When they walked into the club room for Hellfire, they were met with basically an empty room besides Eddie, who was setting up. Various notebooks and dice sets were scattered around the table, indicating that people dropped their stuff off here.
When Eddie heard the door open, he grinned and held his arms open dramatically. “Welcome to Hellfire, boys.”
Lucas and Mike tried to play it cool and not make it seem like they were the only newbies at the club, but Dustin responded with a bright, excited smile. He looked over at them enthusiastically before bounding towards the table as they followed more cautiously behind him.
“Are we early?” Mike asked, noting the lack of people in the room. He scanned over the table at everyone’s dice sets, noticing one that was a soft pink color, embellished by sparkles, that Eddie had to push out of the way to set up his DM screen since they were right next to him. Mike made a face of confusion, picking up one of the dice. “Whose-“
“Nah, you’re not early,” Eddie shrugged, cutting him off. “Everyone’s made a sort of ritual of going to the bathroom before every session. Say they don’t want to ruin the momentum once they get going, which I appreciate,” he explains, putting a hand over his heart after the last part.
The other boys were also now peeking at the sparkly dice, which is something they had never seen before. They were obviously wondering which one of the guys they had already met used that one. Mike put the die down, looking at them as if in silent conversation.
Just then, the doors to the club room were shoved open, and a girl came practically bouncing through it. “I still say we should move the club room,” she spoke, presumably to Eddie but really just to the room in general. “The bathrooms near here are disgusting.”
Eddie smiled at her, waving her off. “And I say again, this is the only room we can use.”
She came prancing over to him, a slight pouty look on her face. “You never listen to my great ideas,” she said, her voice a playful whine but clearly not serious. She was met with only an eye roll from Eddie.
The freshman boys were staring at her so hard they were practically boring holes into her. They had never considered a girl being in Hellfire, having never really seen a girl playing D&D before (other than Nancy playing with them when they were younger, but that didn’t count). But there she was, her Hellfire shirt tucked into a pink pleated skirt that definitely did not match the shirt or the thick ring that she was wearing as a necklace that bounced whenever she walked.
She noticed them now, smiling brightly at them. “Oh, it’s always so exciting when new people join the campaign!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together before skipping over to them and introducing herself. The boys introduced themselves hesitantly.
“Right!” She clapped her hands, turning towards Eddie again and making her way back to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I left one of my textbooks in my last class. Don’t start without me.”
“What do you take me for?” He asked in faux-offense, ruffling her hair. “I’d never start without you. Hurry up, though. You know how cranky the guys get if we start late.”
She gave his shoulder a pat before leaving the room in a rush, her hair bouncing inside her sparkly scrunchie with every stride she took. All of the freshman boys just stood there for a moment, stunned.
Dustin was the first to break the silence. “… You have a Disney Princess in this club?” He asked Eddie in a joking tone.
Eddie snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you won’t think that when you’re playing with her,” he assured them, assuming his position at the head of the table. “Don’t count her out just because she’s a girl. She’s ruthless.”
Any further prodding was cut off by the rest of the club members entering. They scanned the room, waving to the mostly-new faces before turning to Eddie. “Where’s-“
“She forgot something in her last class,” Eddie explained immediately. When he heard the groans that immediately left their mouths, Eddie shook his head. “She’ll be back any minute, and if you complain I won’t be half as nice if you have to leave the room before our session.”
“You wouldn’t be half as nice to us anyway,” one of the boys grumbled, sitting down at his spot at the table. “We’re not your favorites.”
“Hey,” Eddie pointed a finger at him. “I don’t play favorites. I’m very fair.” His comment was just met with an eye roll before the doors opened again, almost as if on cue.
“Sorry, guys!” The girl came bounding over to the table, reaching for her bag and shoving her newly acquired textbook into it. “I’m good now. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
“Not at all,” Eddie assured her, patting her on the shoulder as she took the seat closest to him. “Everyone else just got here a minute ago,” he continued, giving them a pointed look. They just shrugged back at the two of them; they couldn’t say anything because he wasn’t wrong.
When everyone took their seats, the new boys sat at the unclaimed chairs. Eddie dimmed the lights to set the mood, crouching on his chair when he came back over, starting his theatrical introduction to the campaign.
Any anxiety about being the newbies of the group faded away as the session went on. The familiarity of the game overtook everything, and they weren’t treated any different than everyone else. Eddie wasn’t kidding about the girl they were wary about before; the sweet, cheerful girl turned into something else entirely, assuming the persona of her chaotic magic-user. They couldn’t even tell her alignment, which kind of scared them.
After the session, everyone talked excitedly, the new campaign sparking a passionate discussion between everyone. Eddie smiled to himself as he was packing everything up, obviously feeling a bit proud.
After a while, everyone started to disperse, and the three freshman boys all checked the clock, saying to Eddie that they couldn’t be late for their rides. He shrugged his shoulders, everything finally packed away. “If you ever have a problem, I can drive you home.”
“My sister stays here for the newspaper anyway,” Mike explained, inching towards the door. “So she might as well drive me. But she gets pissed if I’m late, so…” he trailed off with a wave as he backed out of the door.
“I actually have a basketball thing…” Lucas said awkwardly, as if bringing up a sport in a D&D club was a sin. “I have a friend that helps me practice for tryouts. But, yeah, I’m also late,” he slung his bag over his shoulder, throwing a “see you later” towards the room as he also left.
Eddie looked at Dustin, asking him a silent question. “Oh, no,” he shook his head. “I made Steve promise to pick me up after his shift.”
The girl looked up at him, a puzzled look on her face that mimicked Eddie’s as they looked at each other before she went back to shoving books in her backpack. “Well, offer’s always on the table if you need it,” Eddie assured him.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dustin nodded, walking out with the only two people left in the room. When they got outside, they waved goodbye. Eddie started heading towards his van, with the girl following closely behind him.
Two of the boys from the club were still talking in the front of the parking lot, and Dustin walked over to them as he waited for Steve. He still eyed the girl as she was walking away. “Isn’t it weird to have a girl here?” He asked them.
One of them snorted. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that. He gets mad.”
“He’s very protective of her,” the other boy agreed. “Plus, she’s been here long enough that it doesn’t feel weird anymore,” he added with a shrug.
Dustin looked over at where the two were still walking together, the thought that she had just parked near him seeming less likely of a possibility. “I guess he takes her home?”
“Well, yeah…” The boys both look at each other as if hesitant to say something before adding, “They are dating.”
Dustin’s head whipped around. “Wait, really?” He asked as he was met with nods. “Why didn’t he say anything?”
“He never tells new members at first. She gets cautious looks by new people,” one of them explained, gesturing to Dustin as an example. “He lets them get to know her first so they know that she’s not just here because she’s his girlfriend. She loves to play, and he doesn’t give her any special treatment.”
Dustin nodded in thought as Steve finally pulled up to him, seeming to remind the other boys that they needed to leave too. They waved goodbye as Dustin got in Steve’s car, noticing now that Eddie and the girl were stopped by his van, smiling at each other as they put their things in the trunk.
Steve noticed Dustin looking somewhere, his head turning to follow his eyes. He saw this girl with Eddie, standing on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, laughing as he picked her up and spun her around.
“Huh,” Steve said in slight surprise. “I’ve never seen her before.”
Dustin faced forward again, speaking sarcastically to him. “There’s a girl in this school you didn’t try to ask out?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t know everybody. Just… most people,” he shrugged.
“Are you mad because someone you called ‘the freak’ has a steady girlfriend who shares his interests while you’re still hopping from girl to girl and not finding anything of substance?” Dustin asked, his voice slightly teasing in a way that almost sounded condescending.
Steve put the car into drive, looking out the windshield as he sighed. “I don’t have to drive you home. I could leave you here,” he deadpanned, even though he was already driving away.
That first session was the only one that had any kind of uneasy feelings. The boys soon fit in perfectly with the rest of the club, talking with them easily every day now. They were very lucky to find friends that were so accepting when they just started high school, and a club they could look forward to every week.
Description: Everything was perfect. Engaged to the love of your life, a wedding around the corner, days filled with love and planning forever, until…the accident. You wake up one day with no memory of Johnny, and now he has to prove that if he made you fall in love with him once, he can do it all over again.
Tags/Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now), amnesia, fear of losing of a loved one, johnny needs a hug, mentions of a head injury (not graphic)
Note: So excited to share my first series!! Four parts inspired on the album Lover by Taylor Swift. I apologize in advance because I broke my own heart writing it, so pretend I’m holding your hand while you read this rollercoaster of emotions. I promise things will get better🤍 Shoutout to babe @breadcheese444 for beta reading ily!
Part One: Soon you’ll get better
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
The morning light filtering softly through the curtains wakes you up. There’s a warmth around you that makes you want to stay tangled in those bedsheets forever, instead of facing the unforgiving cold of New York’s winter.
You tilt your head up slightly to find Johnny still asleep just inches away. His blonde hair is a mess against the pillow, his heavy arm resting across your back holding you close as his chest rises and falls in a slow, peaceful rhythm. There’s the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, like whatever he’s dreaming about is sweet. Maybe you.
You smile to yourself. There’s nothing like waking up feeling this way…safe, loved, wrapped in Johnny Storm.
Your Johnny Storm.
The thought that hits you every morning echoes again inside your head. God, I could wake up to this for the rest of my life.
And you will. Because he got on his knees and you said yes. Because once spring blooms you’ll say yes one more time and seal your fate.
A lifetime of this. Of him.
But that little piece of quiet, tucked between Saturday and forever, doesn’t last that long. Because there’s also a dozen more thoughts that hit your mind every morning before you've even had a sip of coffee. The vendors. The flowers. The cake. The invitations–
Right! The invitations.
You shift softly to reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time, trying your best not to wake him. But the second you move, the warmth protests.
“Mmm, no,” he drawls in his raspy morning voice, still half asleep, eyes closed. His arm tightens around you as he nuzzles closer to your shoulder. “No escaping. You’re mine today.”
You can’t help but chuckle, still trying to pull away to reach for the phone. “We have things to do, babe–”
“I said you’re mine today,” he repeats firmly.
“Only today?” You tease, stopping your attempts to escape his grasp for a moment.
His eyes finally snap open, with that particular glint you’ve come to love so much. “Today, the next day, and forever and ever you’re mine,” he says dramatically, sliding his hand lower on your back to pull you even closer to him.
You laugh softly against his skin, and for a second you forget about everything else and let yourself get lost in his embrace. Because God help you, he’s your favorite place in the world. Warm like firelight, safe like home.
You feel him shift as he lifts his head just enough to look at you, and gives you one of those dashing smiles that make you weak on the knees.
“You know you’re my best friend, right?” He asks, voice still raspy, with an amused tone laced in his words, but his eyes...God, those ocean blue eyes always said more than he put into words.
“I think this is enough proof,” you chuckle lightly, bringing your hand up to display the gorgeous ring on your finger. The diamond catches the light, and Johnny pretends to be blinded by it.
“I know, I know, it’s huge…but it’s still not enough proof.” He shakes his head, pinching your side playfully.
You laugh a little more. “Johnny…”
“I’m being serious, babe. You’re like…my person. You know you drive me so crazy sometimes I wanna throw myself into traffic because your eyes are so evil and your lips are worse–”
“Evil? Worse??” You cut him off with a laugh, moving to settle on his bare chest. “Is that supposed to be romantic?”
He rolls his eyes playfully, but still smiles as he places his hands on your thighs to secure you on top of him. “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. I love wanting you. I love being mad for you. All that–trust me, I’m a sucker for your evil ways.” He nods profusely, furrowing his brows in pretend seriousness.
You narrow your eyes at him, but it’s impossible to fight the smile on your face.
“I love kissing you,” he continues, stealing a peck to prove it, but quickly pulling away with a more serious look on his eye, trying to say it right. “I love that you’re mine. And even…even if you weren’t, even if for some reason I didn’t have you like this anymore…you’d still be the most important person I’ve ever had.”
You stare at him in silence, completely undone. He’s always been more emotional in the mornings. You don’t know exactly what it is, but ever since you got engaged it’s been happening more often.
And you can’t really blame him, because you understand that fear too well. When you find something so perfect, so golden, so yours, it’s inevitable to look up to the stars and wish to never lose it.
Please. Please. Can I go where he goes? Can we always be this close?
“You’re my best friend too.” You smile, despite your own fears. “My favorite person. My sun. You’re always going to have me like this.” You reassure, “You the one I chose for life. Nothing’s going to change that.”
He lets out a soft hum when you press a kiss to his jaw, hand gently cupping your chin to guide your lips to his. You can’t help but smile into it, a soft laugh bubbling in your chest when he slides his hands under the sleep shirt you’re wearing–his shirt–and squeezes your skin. You melt into him, fingers tangling his hair, kissing him again and again, until neither of you remember who started it.
And you could’ve stayed there forever, really. Wrapped in his warmth and giggling every time his hands wandered to places only he’s touched, but when he turns you over to place you under him, you catch a glance of the clock on the wall and then remember–
Right! The damn invitations.
You gasped before his lips touched yours again, placing your hands on his chest. “Johnny, my alarm didn’t go off–look at the time! I was already supposed to be picking up the invitations.”
Oh oh. How could’ve that happened?, he thinks, putting on his best innocent face. And unfortunately, in your panic, you buy it.
“What is the hurry sweetheart? They’re still gonna be there if you’re a little late,” he shrugs.
“They called yesterday to tell me they had to leave sooner for the holidays, so if I’m not there before 11am, we won't be able to see them until January.”
“Well, you know…” he grins, still hovering over you, the hair you previously tugged on now sticking up in ten different directions. “You should skip the invitations. We could just send everyone a voice note, or like, a group text. Everyone knows we’re getting married anyways.”
“Oh, totally, babe. That screams elegance,” you nod, mocking seriousness. “You wanna do the wedding on a video call, too? Press a button that says I do!”
“If it means you stay in bed with me…”
You chuckle, hanging on his neck to kiss the corner of his jaw. “I already told them I’d be there. I’m just gonna go pick them up real quick. I’ll be back in an hour tops.”
You squeeze his bicep before finally slipping out of his hold. He groans dramatically, falling on the bed as he watches you pad toward the bathroom to start getting ready.
When you get out he’s still looking like a renaissance tragedy painting, with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other clutching his chest. You laugh on your way to the dresser, pulling out an outfit to quickly change.
You get startled by a loud whistle behind you, and turn around to find he’s no longer covering his eyes, instead he’s propped on his elbow, enjoying the little show with a grin. You turn your back again, but still shimmy a little more than necessary into your jeans to give him a real reason to whistle about.
“Yep. Evil. I'm telling you,” he says, shaking his head, whistling low this time.
You walk over to him with a smile, fully dressed, fixing a watch on your wrist, and lean down to kiss him again.
“I’ll be back in an hour, I promise.”
He smiles against your lips. “Alright. Take my car, babe.”
You pull back surprised. “Really?”
“Well, it’s faster. And you look hot in it,” he shrugs nonchalantly, a little too casual, a little too relaxed about letting you borrow his million dollar baby blue Porsche.
It’s not like you haven’t driven it before, but most of the time Johnny's been there with you to make sure you take care of his “Sally”, as he likes to call her. Because yes, it’s a her.
You hesitate for a second. There’s a glint in his eye this morning that tells you he’s up to something.
“Are you sure?” You ask one more time, narrowing your eyes.
He just stretches, lounging back dramatically. “Yeah, sweetheart. I know you like it and I like seeing you happy. It’ll get you back sooner as well.”
“Alright,” you chuckle, shaking your head amused. “Thank you, Johnny. I’ll take care of her.”
You’ll figure out what he’s plotting later. Now you gotta run.
He grins, propping on one elbow, watching you walk away. “Call me when you’re on your way back.”
“I will.”
“And–hey.” He makes you stop just as you are turning. “I love you.” He grins, wide and bright and golden.
“I love you more.” You smile back. A full, butterflies in your stomach kind of smile that makes your cheeks warm.
He hums, looking at the ceiling like he’s thinking. “Mmm, not possible.”
You laugh, and blow him a kiss before walking out. He pretends to catch it, pressing it to his chest like he always does.
And just like that, you’re gone.
As soon as the door closes, Johnny throws the covers off and jumps to his feet. He checks the time and grins. He’s got an hour. Maybe a bit more if you grab coffee on the way back.
Plenty of time for his surprise.
When he heard the call you got from the printer shop yesterday, he knew this was the day. And his plan worked perfectly.
He turned off your alarm last night, and you’d slept in just enough for the boutiques on 5th Avenue to be open. He called beforehand to make sure they still had the lovely pair of shoes you tried on a few weeks ago. The ones that have been haunting his thoughts ever since you gasped when you saw them on the storefront.
If he moves quickly, he can surprise you before you get back. Set the fancy box on the bed, front and center, with a big bow and maybe a little note.
He reaches for his phone, just to see that cute photo of you trying them on again. He still remembers the way you lit up when you put them on, the way you spun just slightly in front of the mirror, letting out another soft gasp when you caught your reflection. You even said they were quite comfortable, which made it a no brainer as far as Johnny knew. But then, just as fast as you fell for the shoes, you turned them away when the sales associate announced the price.
“They’re too much, babe,” you said softly. “We’re already spending so much. I’ll find something else.”
You said it with that guilty little smile, the one that said we’ve got other things to think about, but he saw it in your eyes. You didn’t want another pair. You just didn’t want to ask for too much, as if he wasn't on his knees every time you batted your eyelashes.
That moment did something to him. Because if there is anything Johnny Storm is certain of, is that he’d burn down the world to get you everything you ever dreamed of.
By the time he lands outside the boutique, he’s practically buzzing with energy. Partly from flying across New York in a blaze of fire, but mostly because he can’t wait to see your face.
He steps inside with his characteristic flourish as the little bell above the door rings, and he spots the woman right away. The same one who helped you that day. The same one he called yesterday. She’s standing next to the counter, and when she looks up, recognition flashes across her face.
“Oh! Hi, Mr. Storm. You’re here for–”
“The Choo’s,” he finishes, grinning from ear to ear like a little kid on Christmas. “Are they ready yet?”
“Yes, yes, of course. They’re all wrapped for you. I have them right in the back. Excuse me–”
She smiles, then disappears behind a velvet curtain. Johnny starts bouncing on the balls of his feet. He glances around the store, eyes landing on the large mirror you stood in front of that day, glowing with that adorable look of soft wonder on your face.
“She’s gonna lose her mind.” He chuckles under his breath. “Best hubby ever...”
When the associate returns, she’s carrying the gorgeous cream box with the golden Jimmy Choo engraved on it, a champagne satin ribbon delicately tied around it, making it look like a gift straight from heaven.
From your heaven.
Johnny smiles wider, if even possible, and taps his chin. “Do you have like…a little card? I wanna write something for her before she sees them.”
“Of course.” She hands him a white one with a blue gel pen, a knowing smile on her face.
He stares at the blank card for a moment, then writes down exactly what he’s thinking.
“You looked like a dream in these.
Now they’re yours, just like me.”
He smiles at his cheesiness, before signing the card with a lovesick look on his face.
“With love, your idiot fiancé who’s obsessed with you.”
He slips the card on the inside pocket of his jacket, and then stares at the very beautiful, and very flammable box in front of him.
“You don’t happen to have fireproof bags, do you?” He jokes, but the woman’s eyes go wide in panic.
“Oh–I’m sorry, Mr. Storm. We don’t–“
“No, no, it’s perfect. I was just joking, don’t worry,” he reassures quickly, flashing another one of his dashing smiles.
The woman blushes as he grabs the box carefully, trying not to ruin the perfect bow, and thanks her before finally heading back out into the cold. Not that he feels it anyways. He takes his jacket off, partly covering the box with it, just enough to not surprise you with a half scorched pair of shoes.
He checks his watch. Perfect.
You’ll be home in another twenty minutes or so. You’ll probably call him from the garage, because the box of invitations is heavy, so he’ll carry it for you and then he’ll want to hear if the guy at the print shop flirted with you again today.
And then you’ll see them on the bed as soon as you step into the bedroom. You’ll let out one of those gasps again. He knows. He can already hear it.
Your eyes might get watery. You’ll call him ridiculous, and then throw your arms around his neck and tell him he’s too perfect. And then he’s going to kiss you until you forget the damn shoes exist because all he wants is to see that smile on your face.
Just twenty more minutes.
He can’t wait.
Johnny sets the box in the middle of the bed. He tugs the satin bow a little tighter, right where he inevitably crushed it against his chest on the flight back, and places the little card under the ribbon so it barely peeks out.
Then he steps back. And stares at it proudly.
Okay. It’s perfect. Just like her.
He paces across the room as he waits. He does a lap. Then two. Glances his watch. It’s almost showtime. He stops ever so often just to stare at the box for a few seconds, and then paces again and again as the clock keeps ticking by.
“She should be home by now.” He mumbles, checking the time after crossing the room at least a couple dozen times.
You left before he did. His car’s fast, although NY’s traffic is hell at this time. But you’d said an hour. It’s been way over that.
Maybe you stopped for coffee and ran into someone. Maybe it’s traffic. Yeah, it has to be that.
He laughs at himself. It’s just nerves. He’s excited. That’s all this is, it’s normal to feel this way. His stomach’s twisting because you’re gonna lose your mind when you see the box, and maybe you’ll cry, and maybe you’ll call him a sap, and he’ll kiss you and you’ll laugh and everything will be perfect–
Except…something doesn’t feel right.
He pulls out his phone. But there’s no messages, no missed calls. No ‘Hey babe! ran into a friend, be there soon🫶🏼’
His thumb hovers over your contact, hesitating. What if she’s already driving back? I don’t want to distract her. What if I–?
Before he can spiral any further, your name flashes on screen.
Incoming Call – My love 💍
Johnny’s face lights up.
“Speaking of the angel,” he says aloud, already making up a joke in his head. He grins as he hits accept. “Babe, did you get lost under the mountain of invitations? Do I need to come rescue you?”
But it’s not your laugh he hears on the other side of the line. There’s a lot of noise in the background, multiple voices, sirens, and then a woman with an accent speaks.
“Is this Mr. Storm?”
His grin falters.
“…Yeah,” he says slowly, standing straighter, heart already threatening to come out of his chest. “Who’s this? What–what happened?”
“This is Officer Belova, from NYPD’s transit district 4. There was an accident involving a light blue Porsche Carrera GT registered to Jonathan Storm. We’re calling from the phone found inside the vehicle. The woman driving had you listed as her emergency contact–”
“What?” He cuts her off, rougher than he expected. “Is she–where is she? Oh my God–is she okay?”
“She’s currently being transferred to the Presbyterian. She was half conscious and disoriented when found. Paramedics said she sustained a minor head injury.”
“Minor? But how–she…you said she was disoriented. How is that minor? I–“ He clutches his chest when he realizes he can’t breathe, his body instinctively stepping back, until his knees hit the edge of the bed. “What–what do I do? I don’t–I don’t know…”
He’s fully panicking now. His mouth is dry. There’s a lump in his throat. The room is suddenly too small, the air too cold, and the fancy box on the bed behind him feels like some kind of sick joke.
“Sir–first I need you to take a deep breath. You need to remain calm so you can go to the hospital. Is there anyone who could go with you?”
“No–yes–I don’t know. Just–I’m coming,” he manages to say, already heading to the door. “I’m on my way.”
I need to go. She needs me. Come on, Storm.
He cuts the call before he can hear the rest. He forces himself to walk, to keep breathing even if everything inside his chest hurts.
None of it seems real. He can still hear your morning voice. Your laugh. The way you rolled your eyes at his dramatics but still blew a kiss at him before leaving.
It was just supposed to be an hour.
“Hey–“
He snaps out of his thoughts when his sister’s body collides against him just as he’s walking out of the room. Two seconds later and he would’ve probably burned her as he took off toward the living room’s balcony.
“Johnny?” She asks, furrowing her eyebrows when he notices the pale look on Johnny’s face. “I was just coming to see if you wanted a snack with Franklin. I didn't see you have breakfast but–hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
She doesn’t really need an answer. She knows her brother too well. The way his misty eyes won’t meet hers. The way his shoulders are tense like he’s holding back from sobbing.
“Johnny,” she tries again, more gently this time, stepping closer. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“It’s–“ He tries to explain, but has to clear his throat because his voice barely comes out. He grips the doorframe with one hand, the other still holding the phone tightly hoping it might ring again and tell him it was all a mistake. “The–the police called. They called me…from her phone.”
Sue’s eyes go wide immediately, lips parting in disbelief, but nothing comes out. This is like déjà vu. A painful memory from her past she buried deep a long time ago resurfacing.
Please. Please, no. This can’t happen to him. Please don’t tell me she–
“They said there was an accident…she left this morning for the invitations and she–she was driving my car, Sue…because I told her to. I told her it was faster. I was trying to be cute so I could go get the goddamn shoes I told you about but I should’ve gone with her. I always go with her.” He blurts, and the words feel like chewing on glass. “They said something about a minor head injury but–God, Sue, they didn’t say anything else, they just–they just told me I have to go.”
“Okay,” she says quickly, stepping toward him, her soft hands reaching out in instinct to rest on his shoulders. “Okay, it’s okay. Then we’ll go. Let me just–”
“No! I have to–I have to go now. I have to see her–I don’t know…I don’t know what I’d do if she–“ He cuts himself off, shaking the dreadful thoughts away. “She was just here, Sue, she was just in my arms. Safe. She kissed me goodbye, then she said she’d be back–”
“I know, I know,” she says softly, trying to soothe him even as her own chest tightens. “Johnny, listen to me–just breathe, okay? We’ll meet you there. I will come with Reed as soon as we can. She’s gonna be just fine.”
She’s gonna be just fine. She has to.
He can only nod. Because words won’t come out steady now. Sue squeezes his shoulder reassuringly one last time, then takes a few steps back, and soon he’s on fire and flying out the balcony.
His flames don’t warm him for once. The wind tears past his face and he feels that unbearing cold you always whine about just so he holds you closer.
He tries to shake the thoughts away, he flies faster, but a turmoil of emotions chase him like the trail of fire he paints in the sky.
Guilt. Pain. More pain. Helplessness. More guilt.
It claws at the back of his neck, tightening around his throat, a pain that gets heavier with every second that passes and every street he blurs over.
He’s the one who put you in harm's way. All because he’d held you up in the morning. All because he told you to take his stupid car. Maybe if he hadn’t–God if he’d let you leave at the time you set your alarm for, in some random taxi, you wouldn’t be in a hospital bed right now.
The words from the officer echo inside his head.
You.
You.
His fiancée. His future. His whole damn life is now hurt and alone. He can’t even imagine how scared you must’ve been. Your hands gripping the leather steering wheel trying to understand what was happening.
And he’s a damn superhero, but he’s never felt more helpless…or useless. Maybe if he had something like a sixth sense, he could’ve prevented this from happening. Maybe if he had super hearing or super speed he would’ve gotten to you in time.
But no. All he does is burn everything down.
And he couldn’t keep you safe.
The hospital’s rooftop finally flashes into view, and he dives to the side of the building, landing in a burst of fire that startles every nurse, paramedic, and visitor near the ER entrance. He goes through the glass doors with a strange ringing in his ears, one that doesn't let him notice the stares, or the gasps of “No way! That’s the Human Torch.”
He reaches the reception desk corner, and doesn’t even bother with formalities. “I–I was called here for my fiancée. Where is she?”
The young nurse, wide eyed and totally not freaking out about Johnny Storm in front of her, pulls out the records instantly. “She’s in Trauma room 2, sir. They’re stabilizing her now–”
“She’s not stable?” Johnny frowns, heart crashing against his chest. “What does that mean? They said it was something minor–did something happen to her on the way here? I need to see her. I need to see her, please–”
“Sir, you can’t go in right now.”
“No you don’t understand. I–I put her in that car,” he says, voice breaking as he places both hands on the counter to hold himself up. “I need her to know I’m here and I’m sorry, I just–”
“Mr. Storm.” Another nurse approaches from the side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She’s way older, and speaks softer to him. “She’s in good hands. I know this is hard, but going in now would only make things worse. The doctors are working, and the best thing you can do for her is let them do that.”
He sighs, then looks over her shoulder when the big glass doors slide open with a gurney paramedics are rushing in, and he sees all the chaos of the doctors taking it to a trauma room.
You arrived like that not long ago. Confused and surrounded by strangers.
“I have to be close,” he says, looking back at her. “I won’t go in. I won’t get in their way. But I can’t just sit in a waiting room pretending it’s okay. I can’t–I need to be near her. I need to see her. Please let me.” He pleads.
The nurse hesitates, but he’s a Fantastic Four after all. The man has saved the world. How can she say no?
So she nods, pointing to the hallway. “You can be outside the room. You can see her through the window, just stay out of the way if someone walks out. The doctors will keep you updated.”
He doesn’t even remember nodding or saying thank you. His mind gets hazy as he approaches the room you’re held in. His steps are quick, ignoring the nurses and the patients who recognize him and gawk at him like this is a charity visit and not the worst moment of his life.
And if he thought this was hell already, nothing compares to when he finally catches a glance inside. He can’t see much; the doctors have slid down the curtains and there’s only a small gap he can peek through the glass. All he sees are silhouettes; doctors moving, machines beeping, flashes of blue scrubs blocking the view of you.
Of the life he is supposed to spend forever with.
Then finally, after what feels like an eternity of pulling his hair and bouncing his leg anxiously, the doors open. A doctor steps out, pulling off her gloves. Johnny approaches her so fast she has to take a step back.
“Is she okay?” He blurts out. “Is she–just please, just tell me–is she going to make it?”
The doctor’s face softens, but her voice stays professional. “She’s stable for now,” she says, “We were told she was awake but arrived unconscious. We won’t know the full extent of her injuries until after the scans and the neurological assessment."
“But she’s going to wake up, right? You said she’s stable, so that means she’s going to wake up. Right??”
The doctor doesn't say no, but doesn’t say yes either. “All we can do now is monitor her and provide immediate care to make sure she does. The next few hours are important.” She replies gently. “We are doing everything we can, Mr. Storm. I promise you that.” She adds, but it does nothing to soothe the ache on his chest.
She walks away before he can say more, and that silence feels louder than anything else. He shakes his head, backing up until he hits the wall, and squeezes his eyes shut.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. This–
The door swings open again, and his head snaps up. They’re wheeling you out.
“Wait–wait–please,” Johnny chokes, stumbling forward. “Please let me…just–just let me see her.”
The nurse nods. “Make it quick, Sir. We need to get her to imaging.”
He nearly collapses when he sees you helpless on the gurney. The constellation of small scratches and bruises blooming on your body, the little white tape strips over the cut on your temple, the way your face reflects pain even in your sleep.
Every single detail is a jab to his heart.
He covers his mouth with his hand, a small sob finally tearing loose.
“Oh my god,” he chokes. “Baby–I’m so–God, I’m so sorry. I’m here now, sweetheart, I’m here. ”
His hand shakes as he brushes his fingers softly on yours, terrified even to touch you. Because you’re too still, your chest rises faintly, but that’s it. Nothing else.
“Sir, we really need to go.”
He nods, wiping his face roughly with the sleeve of his jacket, but he can’t take his eyes away from you being wheeled through the doors, further and further out of his sight.
“Mr. Storm?” The last person coming out of the room approaches him hesitantly, and he turns to what he can assume is an intern. “The paramedics brought this with her.” He hands him a large zip lock plastic bag, holding your belongings.
Johnny blinks, then takes the bag carefully, “Right–yeah…Thank you.”
The intern just nods, and disappears in the same direction you did.
Johnny holds the bag with shaking hands, lifting it up to see the contents. He sees the car keys first. He remembers being over the moon when he got them handed, but this time he couldn’t care less about the silver “Sally” engraved just above the logo. He stares at them just for a second too long before his eyes shift to your wallet. The one he got you two years ago just because you stared at it for four seconds on a store display. Then to the lip balm you keep rebuying because you always lose it somehow.
But it’s the ring at the bottom that hits the hardest.
The one he spent months picking because it had to be perfect. With a delicate band and a large diamond you’d gasped loudly at. He’d slipped it on your finger with shaking hands as you kept saying “yes, yes, yes” through tears and then kissed him like you never had before.
He fishes it out the bag, and holds it against the light to read the tiny inscription on the inside of the band.
“My moon.”
Because you called him your sun.
Because you always said he burned the brightest in your darkest days, and made your world feel warm even in the coldest of days. And he would tell you that in the middle of all his chaotic life, you were always his constant. The one he looked up to like the constellations painting the sky.
His moon.
But now his moon, his stars, his whole universe is not wearing the ring on her hand.
It was in a fucking ziplock bag like some cereal leftovers.
“Johnny!” A familiar voice echoing through the hospital walls snaps him out of his thoughts.
He turns, and sees Sue and Reed rushing down the hall. No Ben, he must’ve stayed home with little Franklin. Sue’s face goes pale when she sees her brother’s red eyes, your ring in one hand and the other clutching a plastic bag, similar to the one she saw their dad hold on the worst day of her life.
She doesn’t need to hear anything. She just opens her arms, and Johnny falls apart.
Not quietly. Not the way he tries to act in public. No, he breaks just like when he was a little kid. He grabs onto his sister’s shoulders and sobs into her neck, his whole body shaking with desperation and fear.
Sue just holds him through the storm.
“Shh…” She whispers, swallowing the lump on her throat. “We’re here. We’re here, Johnny. We’ll get through this. She’s strong. She’s so strong.”
But Johnny shakes his head against her shoulder. “It’s my fault. She was just–she was just fine. I shouldn’t have held her up, I should’ve–God…”
“It’s okay, Johnny, it’s okay. Let it out.” Sue closes her glassy eyes, hugging him tighter.
Reed just places a hand on Johnny’s back. He doesn’t say anything, but the sight of Johnny broken like that makes his heart ache.
Time goes by slowly in the ICU wing.
Sue had been with him most of the time, and only left him alone to go find him something to eat. She almost–almost–scolded Johnny when he confessed he hadn’t eaten anything that day. But given everything that happened and the tired look on his face, she just sighed and did what you couldn’t right now. Take care of him.
Reed stayed back in the waiting room making call after call, asking a million questions to doctors he trusted all across the country, because the truth was, they were all terrified.
Johnny doesn’t know which place is worse. This or the ER. Either way, there’s no peace. There’s machines everywhere, the faint beeping of heart monitors, and the occasional chaos of a patient needing a crash cart.
He’s just glad it hasn't been you.
You haven’t moved in hours, but Johnny hasn’t stopped watching you. He can’t sit still, but he can’t exactly leave either. So he just stands and paces around the room. Sometimes near the door, sometimes near the side of your bed, sometimes gripping the railing when he feels like his legs are about to give out.
The room is a square of large glass panels, and even though the sides are covered with curtains, it still feels like a fish tank. It gives him anxiety. Makes him feel exposed and watched by the people whispering outside his room like he wouldn’t notice. But the nurses said it’s protocol.
And all he wants is for you to be okay. So he doesn’t argue.
Another hour goes by and he feels he needs to ask the nurses–again–when are you going to wake up, so he steps outside for a second. Either way it helps to stretch his legs beyond the room and breathe different air even if it still tastes like antiseptic.
Johnny walks toward the desk for the hundredth time, nurses already straightening up, but something catches the corner of his eye before he arrives.
A flash.
His head snaps toward it instantly, and catches a guy in scrubs with a phone held up, angled directly at your room.
At you.
The guy panics when he notices the flash going off, and tries to hide the phone behind the charts he was pretending to deliver.
But Johnny knew what he saw. And if this wasn’t a hospital, he would already be on fire.
“Hey!” He yells, storming toward the scumbag. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His raging voice catches the attention of everyone around.
The guy freezes on the spot, and Johnny manages to snatch the phone right out of his hand. He sees the picture on the small preview square. It’s you, unconscious, vulnerable and definitely not there for the whole world to look at.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Doing this just for clicks? For a couple bucks from some shitty tabloid? Huh??”
The young guy swears he sees a flash of fire in Johnny’s eyes.
“M–Mr. Storm, Sir, Human Torch–uh…I–I was just–”
“You were just taking a picture of the worst day of my life!” Johnny snaps, holding the phone away from him. “That’s my fiancée. My family. She’s fighting for her life in there. And you thought, what? That this was your chance to catch a scoop? Are a couple of hours of clout really worth your entire career?”
The guy can’t even look him in the eye, he’s just looking around at the medical staff staring, thinking ‘I’m so fucked.’
And he is. Johnny is seeing red. He stares at the picture again, and doesn’t even hesitate a second longer, just throws the phone so hard against the wall it smashes and shatters.
That’s when the nurses rush in to diffuse the confrontation. One of them takes the guy away from Johnny, who keeps glaring until they disappear into a corridor. A doctor gets in front of him slowly, hands raised.
“Sir, please, you need to calm down. You’re being too loud, this is a hospital–”
“Calm down?” He chuckles bitterly. “Yeah, quite the hospital you have here. Where people try to sell photos of your patients.” His chest heaves with anger, the fire in his chest eating him alive. “I swear– if I see any picture of her in a tabloid tomorrow I’m suing this entire goddamn hospital.”
The place goes quiet. Only the beeping noise of the machines and his uneven breathing fill the air.
Security shows up at the end of the corridor. And he feels completely alone. Sue isn’t here. Reed isn’t here. You’re here–but you’re not.
It’s just him and his rage and his helplessness.
Another nurse approaches him, the kind one from earlier, and puts a hand on his arm. He flinches at first, but relaxes a little when he recognizes her.
“Johnny,” she says softly. “No one will try anything again. Let’s go back inside, alright? She needs you by her side.”
He doesn’t move at first. But after realizing the last thing he wants is to get kicked out and be away from you, he clenches his jaw and nods.
He walks back to your room, and this time he doesn’t pace, he just sits down next to you with his back to the glass door. He picks up your hand carefully, brushes his thumb across your skin, and wishes a million more times you were actually here.
“Soon you’ll get better, baby…” he whispers. “…you have to.”
It’s true when they say nothing good happens after midnight.
Long after Sue had left and he was alone again with his thoughts, his guilt, and the new shift nurses that started gossiping outside the room.
It didn’t take much longer before Johnny made the decision to get you out of there as soon as possible.
Even if they told him it was a bad idea. Even if every doctor in that ICU said the same thing: She needs to stay. She needs time. She needs to be monitored in a controlled environment.
In his head there’s no more controlled environment than the Baxter Tower. So Johnny just stared at them dead in the eye as he signed the damn Discharge Against Medical Advice papers.
And then, only then, after his little midnight hospital crashout, he called Reed in a panic. His brother in law had picked up the phone almost immediately, heart thumping out of his chest thinking he was about to hear bad news.
But instead, it was Johnny…begging.
With a weak voice that Sue couldn’t even listen to without her eyes filling with tears when Reed put him on speaker.
“I can’t have her here. Not–not after what happened. Not where people can take pictures or talk about it all day like I’m not here…I just–I just want her to be safe. Please, Reed. We need to move her to the Tower or I’ll lose my mind here.”
And Reed, who knew what it was like to almost lose the person you love, who knew about the crippling fear of having your family exposed to the world like it’s a reality show and not their actual lives, said okay.
In those late hours, the Baxter medical bay was prepped for your arrival in the morning. Doctors and nurses Reed trusted were flown in and signed NDA’s to protect your privacy.
In the morning, the transfer was successful. Monitored at every second. Johnny sat beside the gurney the whole way, holding your hand and whispering you’d be safe soon.
Maybe the feeling of being home would finally make you open your eyes.
It’s the first time in a while Johnny doesn’t wake up in the same bed as you.
Instead, he’s sitting in an uncomfortable chair–Jeez, Reed really needs to change these– pulled right up to your bedside, elbows resting on his knees, watching every breath you take. Every twitch of your eyelids. Every beep…beep…beep of your heart monitor.
He hasn’t closed his eyes for more than a minute the whole night, and the exhaustion is finally starting to get to him. But he can’t miss anything, so he forces himself to stay awake even if his whole family protests.
Reed is outside of the room, speaking in hushed voices with one of the doctors, but Johnny hears some of it through the partially open door.
“Her head injury was minor, yes, but brain trauma is unpredictable,” the doctor says. “We’ve run all the tests. The swelling’s gone down, and neural activity is present, but there’s no guaranteed timeline. All we can do now is wait.”
Johnny hears them leave, and his shoulders slump more. All he’s done is wait and wait and wait. He reaches for your hand again, to cradle it between both of his.
“I brought you home, baby,” he whispers. “You’re safe here. You can open your eyes now.”
Of course that doesn’t work.
“Alright–I get it. Maybe I wasn’t so convincing. I know you like it when I beg a little.” He manages to smile, despite himself. “Listen–wait, actually, I don’t even know if you can hear me, but I’m gonna pretend you can, okay? Because I don’t know what else to do.”
He clears his throat, and lifts your hand to his mouth to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.
“Baby, please,” he whispers against your skin, shutting his eyes like when he wishes to the stars. “Just…open your eyes. You don’t even have to do it fully–just a little. Just a peek so I can see them. Please.”
Nothing.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” he says, trying to smile again, but it doesn’t work this time. “You…you’ve made your point, okay? You scared me to death. Proved I’m nothing without you. You win, wohoo! Now you wake up, come on, I miss my best friend.”
More nothing. He wants to scream, but only a silent sob threatens to come out.
“God, I’m losing my mind for real. I know you’re the one in that bed, and I hate feeling like I’m making this about me, but who am I supposed to talk to? Tell me, what–what am I supposed to do if there’s no you?”
He swallows the lump on his throat, leaning down, now resting his forehead against the back of your hand.
“I–I guess this is where I should say I’m sorry…for everything. For every stupid thing I’ve ever done. I’m sorry I turned off your alarm. I’m sorry I gave you my car. I’m sorry I didn’t fly you there myself…and I’m sorry I didn't get you the shoes the day you tried them on.” He sniffles. “And I never apologized for getting your order wrong the other day. You were so sweet to me about it that I thought it wasn’t necessary. But it was. I should’ve said I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t even trying to be annoying, I just…well, in my defense I got distracted because your hair looked really pretty that day.”
A broken laugh slips out of him, but it dies quickly.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wasn’t paying attention. I always am. I love you too much not to. So please, baby. Please just wake up. You can laugh at me. Tell me I’m ridiculous. Tell me I’m dramatic. Tell me I’m overreacting. Just…do something.”
He pauses to wipe his tears with the back of his sleeve, without letting go of your hand, leaning down to kiss it again.
“You promised me you’d come back in an hour…but I’m still waiting...”
He expects more nothing, but there’s a little twitch in your hand that makes his heart stop. It’s so subtle, so faint he doubts it’s even real for a moment. He pulls back with wide eyes to look at your hand, gasping when your fingers curl a little tighter around his. His eyes snap up to you, just as your head shifts slightly against the pillow, with a small whine coming out of your parted lips.
“Reed!” Johnny shouts from his spot. “Reed! She’s waking up! She’s–Oh my God, come here!”
There’s a frown on your face as your eyelids flutter open slowly. Not fully. Just a little. Just like he asked you to. You squint, blinking a few times to adjust to the harsh brightness of the med bay.
Johnny lets out a breathless laugh, but softens when he notices the noise startles you.
“Hey, hey–it’s okay, baby. Take it easy. You’re gonna be okay.”
You blink a few more times, before your eyes finally focus on the blonde guy in front of you. There’s confusion in your face, and a drawl in your words. “Where…where am I?” You ask hesitantly, your throat feels dry, and the words come out raspy.
But he grins, wide and bright and golden because he missed the sound of your voice.
“You’re home, baby,” he says softly, leaning closer. “I brought you back here…to the tower. There–there was an accident. You hit your head pretty badly and you were out for a whole day–almost scared me to death,” he chuckles nervously. ”But don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe now.”
You try to process what he says, and your gaze drifts down to where he’s holding your hand. You instinctively pull away, slowly, slipping your hand back to your lap.
His smile falters at the gesture, but recovers quickly from it. He chuckles again, brushing it off with his usual charm.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now,” he teases, trying to ignore the weird feeling blooming in his chest. “This is a pretty dramatic way to cancel a wedding, sweetheart.”
He’s expecting your laugh, even just a little one or a weak shove in the arm, but instead you just stare at him in silence. Because none of what he’s saying makes sense to you.
Before you can say anything else the door slides open, and a dark haired man in a white coat bursts in with a tablet in hand. You swear the corner of his mouth twitches when his wide eyes land on you.
“You’re awake,” he says, letting out an exhale. “How are you feeling? Are you comfortable there?”
Well, you feel like shit. No, you are not comfortable. And where the hell is here??
Your panicked eyes go from him, then to the guy next to you. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then all around the room, to the sterile white walls, to the bright blue floor, to the machines and empty beds, searching for the answers your brain is desperately looking for.
The guy notices your confusion, and tries to soothe it with a softer voice. “Baby it’s–it’s home. You’re home.”
Home. What home?
Your eyes go back to him, but they hold the same uncertainty. “…I don’t understand. What’s…where’s home?”
He frowns, turning slightly toward the man in the white coat. “The Baxter Building.” He says. “Our place…you–you moved in two years ago with me. You remember that, right?”
You shake your head slowly, raising your hands to cross them over your chest protectively. “I don’t…I don’t understand what’s happening.”
The guy laughs again, but there’s panic in it now. So much panic.
“Okay. Okay, sweetheart. You’re just…you just woke up. It’s just confusion.” He turns fully to the man, lifting his brows. “Reed?”
The man, apparently called Reed, doesn’t say anything, just walks to your side. “Can you tell me your full name?” He asks gently.
You nod. Then say it, loud and clear.
“Do you know what day it is?”
You pause, and think hard, but nothing comes to your mind. So you guess.
Wrong.
“I’m sorry…”
“That’s okay,” Reed says quickly. “Do you know where you were born?”
You nod again, then answer correctly this time.
“Do you know who he is?” Reed gestures toward the guy.
You look at him, the guy who keeps calling you sweetheart and baby and throws out words like wedding. His blue eyes are locked on yours, with a storm of hope and fear tangled in them.
“…Baby?” he says softly. Hopeful.
But your face stays blank, and you shake your head.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I don’t…I don’t know who you are.”
Silence.
Reed turns toward him slowly. But he’s not looking at Reed. He’s still staring at you.
Because no. Hell no. There’s no way he’s watching his future–your future–dissolve right in front of him. He waits for the punchline. Because you have to be joking. He thinks any second now you’ll smirk and say “Got you, babe. You should've seen your face.”
But seconds go by and you don’t. You just keep staring at him like you didn’t wake up tangled with him just yesterday.
Like he’s a goddamn stranger.
Johnny takes a shaky breath. By the look on his face you’d swear he just went through the five stages of grief. But he’s just getting started with the first one.
Denial.
“No. Okay–wait, wait, wait, that’s okay. It’s fine, it’s fine,” he rushes, letting out another nervous laugh. “Sweetheart you hit your head. You’re groggy. You don’t mean any of that. It’s just…it’s just the meds messing everything up. Right, Reed?”
“Johnny…” Reed warns, but the guy, Johnny, doesn’t even look at him.
“Hey,” He leans on your bedside, his hand instinctively reaching to yours but stops midair when he sees you pull back slightly. “Okay, just think again, baby. You do remember the invitations, right?” He asks more desperately. “You–you went to pick them up yesterday. I told you to take my car, remember? And you said you’d be back in an hour. You–you promised.”
“I don’t–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper, eyes darting between him and Reed, starting to get overwhelmed. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, lowering his voice. “No, no, no. That’s okay. We–we don’t have to start there, maybe you just don’t remember yesterday. Let’s–let’s start with something else. The wedding! Our wedding. We’re getting married next spring. I picked the color theme, and–and you the invitations–God, the invitations, you loved them, you couldn't wait to see them, you didn’t want to wait until January remember? And the shoes, the ones you loved two weeks ago? It was supposed to be a surprise, but–but–”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you repeat, louder this time. Fear lacing every word.
Johnny freezes. He doesn't realize he started crying until he feels the salt on his lips. That’s when the panic breaks through entirely.
“Baby. I’m–It’s me. I’m Johnny. Johnny Storm. I’m your fiancé. You said yes like a hundred times. You–you cried when I asked. And yesterday you…you kissed me goodbye. You were just–you were just in my arms. Come on, you have to remember that–”
“Johnny.” Reed’s sharp voice cuts his desperate speech when he notices the overwhelm on your face. “I’m sorry–please excuse us.”
He gestures to Johnny to walk out of the room. He tries to place his hand on Johnny’s shoulder but he starts pacing as soon as the doors close.
“Johnny, I know this is hard to assimilate. But you’re scaring her in there.”
Johnny blinks the tears streaming down his face, and shakes his head. “But she–she doesn’t–she doesn’t remember me, Reed.”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t remember anything.”
“I know.”
Johnny keeps pacing, and the look on your face haunts him. Those eyes that don’t light up anymore when they meet his, now wide and frightened. The complete lack of recognition on your face. The way you didn’t say babe, or love, or a “Hold my hand, Johnny.”
No. Just a cruel “I forgot that you existed.”
“She’s just…confused, right? I know this is temporary. It’s–It’s a mess now, but she’s gonna–she’s gonna remember me. She has to. She’s gonna wake up tomorrow or, or tonight, or in an hour and she’s gonna look at me and know me, right?”
“Johnny…”
“No, no, don’t ‘Johnny’ me,” he snaps, stopping his pacing. “Just tell me! Tell me she’s gonna be okay. Tell me she’s gonna remember. Tell me this isn’t–this isn’t permanent. Tell me she’s gonna come back to me. Please.”
Reed’s expression softens just a fraction. Enough to show this hurts him too. And when compassion meets logic in Reed Richards’ eyes, that’s when Johnny knows his world is about to shatter more.
“I’m afraid this doesn’t look like confusion or shock, Johnny,” Reed says quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “This is evident trauma from her injury, resulting in her memories being…inaccessible. The doctors said this was a possibility.”
“But what about in the future? Will she remember me…eventually?”
Reed hesitates. He’s not exactly a man of rainbows and ‘let’s think positively’. But the look on Johnny’s face…makes it hard to keep throwing jabs at his already brittle heart.
“It is possible that patients regain everything. Others, slowly regain pieces with help.” He stops there. He knows he shouldn't say it. So he doesn’t.
Some…nothing.
But Johnny doesn’t need to hear it. Deep down he knows that’s a possibility too.
He can’t help the choked sob that comes out, so he presses a hand to his mouth and turns away from Reed.
“Johnny,” he calls, but Johnny keeps his back to him. Reed just sighs. “You have to let her breathe first. She doesn’t need panic, or pressure. This is already complicated enough for her. Now she needs calm, and structure. We can build routines that will safely communicate the information she needs to know. We will provide all the care she needs, all you need to do is be patient.” He says, as softly as he can. “Either way, you’re not doing this alone. She’s part of our family, and we’ll face it as such.”
Johnny nods through the tears, but no words come out. Because everything feels like it’s burning.
His dreams. His plans. The future he saw with you walking down the aisle, and him forgetting his vows halfway through because he couldn’t stop crying.
He’s supposed to be the one who saves people from fire. The one who always runs into the heat, never away from it. But today…today he’s the one going up in flames. And he doesn’t know how to stop it.
Not when he’s standing outside the room you’re in, knowing you’re alive but not his anymore. Not really.
And if he can’t save this, save you from the fire swallowing everything you had, then maybe he can’t save himself either.
Your ring’s been in his pocket since he got it from the ziplock bag, heavy like some kind of cruel joke.
What once was a symbol of love, is now a reminder of a life that might never come back.
So he just stands there. Ring in one pocket. Grief in the other. And the same question pounding his head over and over.
What am I supposed to do…if there’s no you?
To be continued...
I apologize…again. It’ll get better 🫣
Thank you so much for reading, feedback is always appreciated!
I LOVED YOUR EDDIE X WHIMSY READER!! I hope you continue with it :)
hi sweetheart tysm!! i hope you like this :) it’s very very very inspired by the scene in 10 things i hate about you hehe | 1.2k words, eddie munson x fem!reader, whimsy!reader, drinking, objectifying, protective!eddie, vomiting, pining, use of y/n, requests are open!!
“Hey,” he called to Steve over the thumping music. “Where’s Y/N?”
As much as Eddie loved his best friend — and fuck did he, there really wasn’t a moment that passed where he wasn’t thinking of her, how pretty she was, how much he wanted to kiss that silly little smile right off of her mouth — he did not love going to parties with her. She enjoyed them, sure, but she was a lightweight and easily distracted, a recipe for trouble if anyone were to ask him, especially in a house full of drunk people. Drunk boys, he thought bitterly.
Steve shrugged as he sipped from his bottle of beer. “I dunno, man, I thought she was with you.”
“I left her with you so I could go take a leak.”
“Oh,” Steve made a face. “Whoops.”
Eddie’s teeth ground together. Great. Just great. The last party they’d gone to he’d had to pull her out of the puddle in the back garden that she’d decided to lay in because it’s too hot, Eddie, I wanted to cool off.
Robin popped up at Steve’s side with what must’ve been her tenth drink of the night.
“Rob,” Eddie sighed. “Have you seen Y/N?”
She giggled. She was a very giggly drunk. “Yeah. Everyone’s seen her.”
Uh oh. “What’s that mean?”
Robin gestured in the direction of the dining room, still giggling, leaning more and more into Steve until he was practically holding her upright.
“Jesus, thanks.” Eddie heard Steve start his third lecture of the night about drinking responsibly as he left the hallway they’d congregated in to head into the dining room and fucking hell.
Does Your Mother Know was blasting through the speakers as he looked up, watching his best friend dancing on the table. Limbs all loose with the liquor she was twirling and bouncing to the music, hips swaying in a way that was cruel. Her skirt — far far too short for where she was dancing — was riding up her thighs with each movement, and where maybe he’d have indulged himself in staring at her legs in their gorgeous glory, all of the people stood around the table staring instead were just starting to piss him off. The girls were cheering and the boys were whistling and it was making him so angry that she was getting oggled so obviously.
He shoved past a group of people and ignored the drunken complaints as he got to the edge of the table. “Hey!” He shouted, his hand finding the warm skin of her ankle.
She twirled back around and broke into a huge grin when she saw him. “Eddie!” She squealed. “Hey! Oh my god! Come dance with me!”
She bent over to try and encourage him up and he quickly reached up to yank her skirt down to cover her ass, spare her flashing half of the party.
“No. Come on, get down.”
“But it’s fun up here!” She giggled, though it seemed like her drunkenness was on his side as she wobbled towards the edge of the table, and he just wrapped his arms around her thighs to lift her down, ignoring the people that started booing at him.
She was still giggling at him once her feet were on the floor, nodding along to the music. “Well I can dance with you honey, if you something something, does your mother know that you’re out- Eddie I love this song!”
He reached for one of her hands to start pulling her out of the room. “Uh-huh, tell me about it outside, you need some air.”
She didn’t complain, fingers squeezing his as she followed along until he reached the patio doors to lead them outside.
It was cold out, nearing late November, so instantly he shrugged off his jacket and encouraged it onto her arms. She didn’t even complain, just letting him dress her like a life-sized Barbie doll.
“How’re you feeling, dancing queen?” He looked back up at her face and scowled when she was leaning up on her tiptoes to peek over the hedge to the neighbors garden. “Hey,” he poked her cheek. “Are you feeling okay?”
The fresh air seemed to hit her all at once because she wobbled on her feet and made a face. “Oh. Dizzy.”
“Yeah, thought so,” he glanced around the garden for a bench so she could sit, though there was only a set of swings stood against the back fence. “C’mon, let’s sit down.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist to guide her the short distance to the swing set, at least thankful she wasn’t too drunk to walk. Though it seemed like if he’d left her alone for any longer she might’ve been.
He let go of her so she could sit down on one of the two swings, and he’d been planning to sit on the other, though instantly she leaned back and almost slipped right off of the swing.
“Whoops.” She giggled, hands still on the ropes as Eddie quickly lifted her back up, and settled with just standing behind her so she didn’t fall back into the grass again, his hands planted on her shoulders.
For a moment he just gave her a moment to sit and breathe. She’d leaned back against him, feet pushing against the floor to swing though prevented by Eddie stood behind her. “Swing me.”
He scoffed. “I don’t want you to puke, babe.”
“M’not gonna puke,” she leaned up to continue her argument though was quickly distracted by the clear skies above them, blinking at the stars. “Woah. Look,” she pointed up. “Orion’s Belt.”
Eddie didn’t look up, instead just continued staring down at her face. The glitter she’d packed onto her eyelids stood in front of his bathroom mirror earlier that evening had migrated down her cheeks like little sparkly freckles. Her cheeks were flushed from drinking, nose red from the cold of the night. She was so fucking pretty. It wasn’t fair.
Her head tipped back just that much further to look up at him, the top of her head pressed against his stomach. “Hi,” she blinked. “You’re staring.”
“Am I?” He was quickly overcome with just how easy it would’ve been to lean down and kiss her. His hands slid from her shoulders to the warmth of her neck, thumb stroking the length of her jaw without thinking. It didn’t help that she nuzzled into his touch like a cat.
His eyes had shifted down to her lips, lipgloss making them shiny. He wanted to know what it tasted like.
He’d leaned down just a fraction when the patio doors slammed open.
“Eddie! Y/N!” Eddie grit his teeth as he looked up and saw Robin stood in the open doorway, grinning like crazy. “You’ve gotta come see what Steve’s doing!”
Eddie just sighed, hands dropping back down to his best friend’s shoulders as she sat up straight again.
Kissing her would’ve been a bad idea anyways.
“You ready to go back in, babe?”
She hunched over and threw up on the grass in front of the swings.
Eddie winced, instantly scooping her hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck, you’re okay, just let it out.” He held her hair with one hand and lifted the other to rub her back through the leather of his jacket.
He glanced up to see Robin grimacing at the door. “…I’ll tell Steve you’ll be a sec.”
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