The work in this masterlist is not to be copied, reposted, translated or otherwise distributed. Please be mindful of the fact that most works are for mature audiences, so minors stay away!
My work is also posted to AO3.
S= Smut. F= Fluff. A= Angst. 🌟= Personal favorite.
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Little do You Know (ot7) S | F | A | Series, Idol au, Playmate au. 🌟
Summary: In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.
Moonchild (ot7) S | F | A | Series, ABO, Werewolf au. 🌟
Summary: Working at a coffee shop that only opened in the late hours of the night was the most exciting thing about your life, really. You never had that many friends, your love life was nonexistent, and you just couldn’t explain the feeling of not belonging that chased you no matter where you tried to find your place. It was when seven very handsome strangers came into your life that weird things started happening around you and within you. Could they be the ones to fill in what’s been missing? Or would getting involved with them and their world put you in danger?
Little Bit of Your Heart (Yoonkook) S | F | A | Series, non-idol au, producer au.
Summary: You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it?
Just a Taste (rapline) S | F | One shot, vampire au, kinktober.
Summary: Yoongi was leading a double life. Hiding you from his coven, from his brothers, was a self preservation decision. When he knew his best friends wouldn’t understand the kind of relationship he had with you, his very own, personal walking blood bag, he decided to keep you all to himself. So what happens when Namjoon and Hoseok show up unannounced? Will Yoongi say yes to sharing more than the news of what you do?
Hyung Line Daddy Collection 🌟
A collection of stories where the members of Hyung Line are daddies in one way or another. Sugar daddies, dilf, daddy/bbg, or daddy material in general. From series to oneshots! Gather your daddy issues and have a good read!Each story might have its own warnings, but all of them include: Heavy smut, Dom!BTS, power play, age gap (always legal and not weird).
Internal Conflicts S | F | A | Mini series, step brother au.
Summary: Kim Seokjin was everything any girl could want in school . Handsome, kind, popular. Many girls in your class had a crush on the man; including you. Being a few years older than you meant that after he graduated, you didn’t think you would ever see him again. Fast forward to seven years later, the oldest clichê in the book: Your mother marries a man, the man has a son. That son was Kim Seokjin. And now, you’re coming home for a family trip to a cabin in the woods, with a very much awakening crush on the man that is now one hundred percent off limits. A shared bathroom, a snow storm, a small town. What could go wrong?
Don’t Argue. S | F | One shot, established relationship.
Summary: After almost six years together, Yoongi asked you to move in with him. You’re done packing your whole apartment for the move, and he shows up to make sure your last night at your old place is special.
Illicit Favors S | F | A | One shot, friends to lovers. 🌟
Summary: When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.
Oh, Darling! S | F | A | Series, professor/student.
Summary: Starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you’ve held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?
The Final - Day 2 S | F | A | One shot, Idol au, groupie to lover.🌟
Summary: You’ve been Yoongi’s go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that’s all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you’re backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he’s got competition?
Interlude S | F | A | Series, Idol au, deaf reader.
Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.
LY: Love You Right S | F | A | One shot, Idol au, playmate au.
Summary: Being Jung Hoseok’s playmate comes with many perks. You get to travel the world, attend Bangtan dinners and… Fuck his brains out. Besides ‘client’, ‘best friend’ was also a title you had for him. And when nothing romantic could ever happen between the two of you, Hoseok decides to play matchmaker to set you up with another one of his members.
Gravity S | F | A | One shot, rock star au, kinda exes to lovers.
Summary: You always knew where you stood with Yoongi. Craving something more with the lead singer of a rock band, who you had a friends with benefit arrangement with, wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. When deciding to walk away from him, you didn’t count on the fact that something always brought you back to him. This time, it was the invitation to watch the last concert of his newest tour.
Stuck on Me S | F | A | Mini series, tattoo artist au, strangers to lovers.
Summary: All you wanted was to be supportive when you walked into the tattoo shop with your best friend. But the tattoo artist with the prettiest hands and deepest voice you’ve ever heard just had to change that. Now you’re getting a lot more than what you bargained for.
House Of Cards (Agust D) S | F | A | One shot, mafia au, established relationship. 🌟
Summary: Min Agust knew you were too good for him. He was too rotten inside, undeserving of someone like you. But selfishness was just one of his many flaws. Agust was greedy, he liked possessing things; money, gold, people. But you were by far the only thing he’d burn the world down before losing.
Just a Taste (rapline)
Summary: Yoongi was leading a double life. Hiding you from his coven, from his brothers, was a self preservation decision. When he knew his best friends wouldn’t understand the kind of relationship he had with you, his very own, personal walking blood bag, he decided to keep you all to himself. So what happens when Namjoon and Hoseok show up unannounced? Will Yoongi say yes to sharing more than the news of what you do?
All It Takes S | F | A | Series, tattoo artist, non idol, Dom/sub, friends to lovers🌟
Summary: After months of quietly pinning after Jung Hoseok, your friends decide to give you a little push. Sometimes a New Years Eve party and a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven is all it takes.
Oh, Angel! S | F | A | One shot, non idol, Dom/sub. Part of Daddy Hyung Line Collection.
Summary: Ever since he met you, Hoseok just couldn’t resist you. Even though you were off limits -many years younger than him and an intern on his sister’s company-, he just had to make you his. You were the perfect baby for him, docile and pliant. What happens when you decide to be a little brat instead?
More S | F | A | One shot, president’s daughter, idol, established relationship.
Summary: Being the daughter of the most powerful man in South Korea, while dating a member of the most popular kpop group in the world can be stressful to say the least, but you make it work. You’ve been with Hoseok for almost four years now, and things are going well. You have a loving relationship and responsibilities as the president’s daughter. But you can’t help but crave more. Is Hoseok ready to give it to you?
Just a Taste (rapline)
Summary: Yoongi was leading a double life. Hiding you from his coven, from his brothers, was a self preservation decision. When he knew his best friends wouldn’t understand the kind of relationship he had with you, his very own, personal walking blood bag, he decided to keep you all to himself. So what happens when Namjoon and Hoseok show up unannounced? Will Yoongi say yes to sharing more than the news of what you do?
Lilac Eyes II S | F | A | One shot, non idol, hybrid, established relationship.
Summary: Now that your bond with Namjoon is growing, Hoseok has to share you, his kitten, his baby. Some could say he brought it on himself for leaving you to go on a work trip, or maybe it was fated to happen either way. But, at the end of the day, you still belong to Hoseok and his feelings for you are getting much too strong for him to hide them. Could a camping trip to the mountains with his family bring you together again, or could it be what separates you for good?
Oh, Honey! S | F | A | Series, non idol, Dom/sub, sugar daddy. Part of Daddy Hyung Line Collection.
Summary: Namjoon never wanted a Sugar Baby, no matter what Yoongi and Hoseok said. You never wanted a Sugar Daddy, despite the insistence from Jimin. Until your life takes a turn and you really need the money, fast. What was supposed to be a one night thing, a birthday present for a big time rapper and producer, turns into so much more when you find in each other what you never thought you had been looking for.
A Moment in Time S | F | A | Mini series, non idol, bestfriends and roommates to lovers.
Summary: You’ve had a crush on Namjoon for as long as you could remember. Living with him didn’t help keep those feelings in check, but his girlfriend did. Until the day they broke up. And when your friends suggested that Namjoon finds a one night stand to get over his now-ex, what happens when he looks at you for a favor?
Change S | F | A | One shot, non idol, werewolf au, established relationship.
Summary: At first glance, your life might seem boring to an outsider. Living that simple way, sharing a home with the love of your life, enjoying the days as they came. But upon closer look… Your life was anything but simple. Namjoon, your boyfriend, is a werewolf. Pack alpha, no less. And with a chaotic group of pack mates and dangers lurking at every corner, how long can you live blissfully before everything comes crashing down?
What’s Left of Us S | F | A | One shot, non idol, exes to lovers. 🌟
Summary: After being together for seven years, you and Namjoon went through a peaceful breakup, deciding to stay friends for the sake of your history and the dog you own together. Not only do you still live together, but now you have to go on a roadtrip with your ex. Between bickering and annoying each other, will you be able to put your differences aside and save what’s left of you?
Lilac Eyes I S | F | A | Hybrid, non idol, strangers to lovers.
Summary: When Hoseok needs to leave town for work, Kim Namjoon shouldn’t be his first choice to look after you, his sweet and spoiled cat hybrid. But when all other options fail, Namjoon moves into the house to look after you for the two weeks your owner will be gone. What happens when Namjoon and you develop a strong bond that goes beyond what anyone could have expected? And what happens when your heat unexpectedly hits?
Just a Taste (rapline)
Summary: Yoongi was leading a double life. Hiding you from his coven, from his brothers, was a self preservation decision. When he knew his best friends wouldn’t understand the kind of relationship he had with you, his very own, personal walking blood bag, he decided to keep you all to himself. So what happens when Namjoon and Hoseok show up unannounced? Will Yoongi say yes to sharing more than the news of what you do?
Blooming S | F | One shot, rock band au, strangers to lovers.
Summary: When staying at your cousin’s home for a couple of days, all you expected was to attend the wedding of an old friend and catch up with family. But then she’s dragging you to her boyfriend’s concert and you just can’t help but fall into the charms of the band’s guitar player.
With a Brush Of Fate S | F | A | Series, idol au, strangers to lovers.
Summary: Your roommate was sure she found you the perfect man. Her boyfriend believed he found Taehyung’s soulmate. The only problem was that you never wanted to date an idol and he never wanted to drag you into this life. Taehyung didn’t even know what he wanted anymore and was tired of being criticized for simply growing up. You just wanted to finish university and do something for yourself. What started out with the meddling of your friends became something neither of you expected. Could the two of you be what the other is missing? Or would things just fall apart?
Lost Stars S | F | A | Series, Idol au, strangers to lovers. 🌟
Summary: Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you.
Rebound S | F | A | Mini series, rock band au, strangers to lovers.
Summary: After being dumped by your boyfriend of three years, your best friends decide the best way to get over someone is getting under someone else. A dingy dive bar in the middle of nowhere is the perfect place to find a rebound. But what happens when you end up on the bed of a punk-rock lead singer who can’t seem to get enough of you?
Love Bites S | F | A | One shot. Hybrid, idol au.
Summary: Jungkook never wanted a hybrid for himself. Not only was it too much responsibility, being the golden maknae of BTS didn’t allow him much time to care for another being that would need him for almost everything. But then his friends gifted him a bunny for his birthday, as nothing but a joke, and he found himself getting attached to you rather quickly. Jungkook had the option of sending you back to the breeders you came from, but he just couldn’t bring himself to separate from you. Now, years later, you follow him everywhere and Jungkook finds himself falling for you more and more everyday.
Secrets We Keep S | F | A | Series, cam girl au, idol au.
Summary: Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you?
LY: Love You Better S | F | A | Series, playmate au.
Summary: Jungkook never wanted a playmate of his own before. While living a busy life, touring the world, being one of the top kpop idols alongside his Bangtan hyungs, he had everything he could possibly need. But now that responsibilities call and his brothers are starting to focus on their solo careers before eventually enlisting one by one, Jungkook feels lonely. Maybe hiring a companion to take care of his needs and fill in the empty space in his life isn’t such a bad idea anymore…
Hooked S | F | A | Series, undergroung boxer au, brother’s best friend.
Summary: Walking away from your brother was never what you intended, you just wanted to run from the ghosts of your past. But now you’re back home and ready to pick things up from where you left off. If only things could be that easy, right?
Be Your Fantasy S | F | A | Mini series, Crushes to lovers, idol au.
Summary: Jungkook doesn’t have a lot of time before he needs to enlist for the military, so what happens when his best friends decide to set him up with the girl he’s had a crush on for longer than he’d like to admit? And what happens when you feel the same way about him?
clark meets another super, who he can fuck the way he really wants to.
cw: 18+, smut, villain!reader, enemies to lovers, hate fucking, unprotected p-in-v, mentions of blood & violence, clark has a massive cock (ofc), sexual tension, tummy bulge, multiple orgasms, dub con, clark fucks HARD in this (2.4k wc)
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clark kent had only ever dreamt of days where he'd meet his match.
he'd accepted that he was physiologically different that the humans that he kept company with. and that meant compromising. which was a multitude of things. he could only every use one percent of his actual strength in his daily tasks for starters — taking a boatload of mental fortitude to contain himself.
that applied to his sex life. an act he indulged in often.
maybe it was written in his DNA, or maybe having a significantly larger body to muscle mass meant your sex drive left you unbelievably insatiable. he couldn't tell. there wasn't much of a reference point he could compare to.
even then, it was…unfulfilling.
the women he fucked weren't to blame for it. truly. he'd learned after a couple of partners that his cock was disconcertingly massive in 'human' standards. to quote the most recent, he had a 'monster cock.' something he took literal offence to initially, but later learned that was a generic term for far exceeding 9 inches. and that meant only ever being able to fuck barely halfway in before most of them tapped out.
it was okay. he was okay with it. being superman had perks, doing good, keeping people safe. being sexually fulfilled wasn't on the forefront of his mind at all. but that didn't mean he couldn't dream of meeting someone who could keep up with him.
and that was why, clark kent was obsessed with you from the second you threw the first punch to his jaw.
"are you — … are you freakin' smiling?"
you had your knee pinned to his pulse point, knuckles flexed with clark's dried blood. other hand squishing his jaw when his smile tenses against your thumb. bloodied pearly whites peeking through. that wasn't the expression you expected from a man who was panting, bruised, and bleeding from cuts on his lips and nose.
"it hurts," he manages through a laughter of amusement, "like, actually hurts." your brows raise quizzically. it was a no shit sort of moment, because well, you'd swung at his face. repeatedly. but the crooked smile he was giving you, made your cunt clench.
"okay. i do not have time to figure out what bullshit you're on. stay out of my goddamn way, superman."
he doesn't chase you when you'd gotten up, free-falling off the museum's building, thumb drive in hand.
after that, getting rid of him was near impossible. he was everywhere you were, disrupting your plans. and for some absurd reason — taking hit after hit, as if testing how much you could deal, and how much he could endure.
the next time you see him, he's skulking in your apartment, rotating a relic that didn't seem like it was from this earth.
"do you have a death wish?"
clark doesn't turn when he hears you approach him, tossing the armored headpiece up and down in his palms. "you're hera," he muses, eyes glinting when your footsteps cease where you stop short of him. the mention of your past alter-ego, sends a dreadful chill down your spine. his gaze drags over your civilian state, formal, a lanyard around your neck, pencil skirt, and a thin black rectangular framed glasses.
you snatch the item from him. dusting it off before putting it back in its' place. "i don't go by that anymore."
clark stumbles backward when you shoulder past him. you don't wait before you swipe him clean off his legs, the cement floors crackling beneath his fall. "i'm giving you about twenty seconds to get out before i fuck you up, supershit."
clark reacts to that nickname instantaneously, pointing at you accusatory. "do not —" he grumbles. shaking his head before pulling himself up to his feet. you weren't paying attention to him, wrist twisted to look at the second hand tick on your watch.
"look. miss hera, i'm here to talk —"
"times up."
the force that sends him crashing into your bookshelf cracks the walls of your converted loft. you sigh, unwinding your wrist from hitting that brick wall-like chest. he doesn't want to attack you, and you see it in the way he's standing up, not getting into a defensive stance.
clark raises his palms to surrender. "please, i'm really not here to turn you in." you listen to him for a second, but you wind up to throw another. this time, he catches your fists, a crackle heard before he twists you around, pressing your fist to your back. "would you listen?"
you swallow thickly, his voice blooming a warmth in you.
he grunts at you headbutting him, and you take the moment to loop your arm around his, throwing him in the direction of your television console.
you briefly hear him mutter a quick 'oh geez that one hurt' in a tired boyish tone. clark looks up to the figure already charging at him. he catches you by your hips when you pounce on him, legs locked around his chest. "ow, ow, ow — i'm serious! just let me talk!"
you huff, holding him in a tight headlock where you were straddled. in the split second you hesitate, he blindly grabs around your back, holding you by the scruff of your neck before slamming you down like he was getting a feral cat off of him.
"that does it." gritting through your teeth, your heels meet the base of his jaw, and it cracks beneath the weight behind the kick. clark whines out loudly, stumbling back. his senses are attuned now, your head whips to the side when he strikes you for real, the glasses you had on flying right off.
"i really don't want to hurt you. " he pants, wiping the blood off his lips with the back of his hand. you attempt to knee him, but he catches you, the whiplash of him grabbing you by your throat has your hand grasping around his wrists.
his cape flutters when clark catapults onto the other side. you let out a yelp when your back slams into the paintings behind you.
he's close now, your chest heaving hard enough to graze his.
you spit out the blood that collects in your mouth, sizing him with a deadly look, "as if you can."
clark looks at you intently, gaze flicking to the smear of scarlet on your lips. his jaw tightens, trying to figure out how he could get you to listen to him.
and then — he licks a stripe over your sliced bottom lip.
your whimper ghosts his jaw, and clark holds you still in place by the neck. large hands spanning your entire throat. your eyes dart to his, flitting left and right. his thumbs shift, just slightly, your pulse slowing beneath.
"you done?" he's close enough that you can feel the hum in his voice. your eye twitches at the smug tone.
"the nerve you've got…" you mutter, your own tongue catching your lower lips. he tenses at the sight of you licking over the glossiness he left.
the thrum in your chest is palpable. he feels it, and doesn't let go. the adrenaline of both the pain and closeness turning into something much more twisted.
"you're strong." clark leans close and you tip your head to the side to avoid him. he takes the opportunity to drag his nose down your neck. "as strong as i am." your breath stutters, thighs thrashing helplessly next to his hips.
"so?" you feel him sigh into your collar bone, his forehead rested on the shifted painting behind you.
"so…you can take it. take…me."
your brows furrow at that, but the answer comes in the form of the monstrosity pressed up against your abdomen, that was twitching. "is…is that what this is about? you needed a super-powered criminal fuck buddy?" the deliriousness in your tone is evident, and it seems to embarrasses him.
"this isn't ideal," he snaps in a hushed whisper. pulling back enough to turn your jaw to face him. "i know you want it too. i can…i can feel your heart rate picking up." he points out.
his face is laughably apologetic considering the span of events so far. "well, it's a given with you humping me."
clark's jaw flexes, "gosh you — the mouth on you." he sputters, the grip around your neck tightening a fraction. "you're so damn crass. this is ridiculous. what am i doing?"
you laugh in his face, and he perks up, staring blankly at just how pretty you looked when you smiled. "are you joking? you have your dick pressed onto me and you're questioning my language?"
clark winces, hips bucking into you when you point out the irony in the situation. "don't…talk like that," he's trying not to acknowledge the fact that he was quickly hardening, but your entire presence was a catalyst. "talk like what?"
he's almost certain you're being obtuse on purpose, but in the off-chance you weren't, "saying stuff like dick, and…humping so brazenly."
a smile curls at the corner of your lips, and your hand drops, two of your fingers spreading apart to trace over the outline of his bulge.
"o-oh geez," he gasps, followed by a breathless "give-me-a-goddamn-warning."
the hold on your throat loosens. so you grab around his cock firmly, thumbing where his tip would be. "you're here to fuck me, right? so act like it."
clark looks to you, brows pressed into a knit. his arm snakes around your hip, "…very well, then."
you gasp at the shift in positions, where he now had you pinned on your unmade bed.
his hand curls around your wrist, slipping them underneath his suit bottom. clark jumps when your softer hands grip his bare length, it surprises you "oh."
"i-it's…not exactly small," he grits, panting into the side of your head when you stroke him with his guidance.
"no kidding. you're hung, big blue."
clark grunts at that, breaths turning heavier the more you're dry rubbing his cock.
"like that. yeah... that's good."
you hum, lifting your hips to accommodate his bigger frame while he tugs his suit off. the impressive size of him comes to your view, and you let out a stuttered breath. your pussy clench almost as a pre-warning.
he drags your skirt up, bunching it at your hips. "g..osh.." he mutters, looking up to see that you've unbuttoned yourself enough to reveal the curvature of your tits beneath a lacy blue bra.
"like that we're matching?"
clark huffs out a strained laughter, head dropping lower. "that's not funny."
the smirk on you turns to a gasp when he drags his thumb over your panties, wetness slowly blooming where your slit would be. your hips tilt to his touch, and he hooks his thumb around the edge of the fabric, letting his finger dip into you just enough.
you moan brokenly, looking down at the erotic sight before you.
his body was definitely as formidable as his cock, biceps visibly flexing at your ministrations. "the point…of this is so you can do what you want. right? just stick it in then."
the tremble in your voice gives away your nervousness.
clark rolls his shoulder, pushing a finger into your cunt, sounding unintentionally smug, "to fuck you…without tearing you. i need you to take at least four fingers."
you clench, on instinct, when he says that. it seems to draw a cocky smile from him.
you aren't sure how long had passed.
somewhere between your second and third orgasm, you lost track of time. clark had his mouth latched around your breast, plunging his fingers deep into you, relentlessly pulling whimpers out of you.
"enough — fuck." you claw at his back, slick with sweat sticking to your cheeks. "just do it already." clark's still diligently stretching you out, marvelling at how your pussy accommodates his digits.
"okay, okay…"
you feel the loss of him all at once and with a flutter, his thighs pushes yours further apart where they were hoisted beneath your thighs. clark angles his thick tip at your entrance.
"take a deep breath for me" he whispers, easing himself into you while thumbing at your clit. the reaction was immediate, you squeeze around him, hips already attempting to squirm away.
clark holds you down, feeding you his cock inch by inch and all you can do is brace yourself. "you feel — so.." he groans out, lips pressed at the corner of your parted ones. you're letting out choked, heavy breaths into his mouth, rendered mute, "so soft, a-and wet."
you're teary, blinking through the blur that prickle the corner of your eyes. he feels your it wet his cheek, and he pulls back, like he'd been burnt.
"sorry, i'm sorry." his hip still. and somehow, the sting grows even more painful when he isn't moving. "are you okay? should i stop?"
your nails dig into clark's arms, dragging them down his bicep, leaving angry red marks behind. he doesn't expect it, when you grab around his neck, flipping him beneath you. you steady yourself on his chest and fully sheath yourself. the two of you groaning out in unison.
"fuck. oh fuck." clark gasps when your hips lift, and snap back down. he grabs around your thighs, stabilising you as you bounce on his cock.
"god, oh my god, it's like, you're in my…throat.." you're whimpering into his mouth, body falling limp after your brave showing of just having him fully in you.
clark holds you up your jaw, drowning your moans in his mouth. his other hand slides down your ass, parting them with a finger, hold firmly around the fat. he takes takes charge to thrust up into you, deep.
"mm—ff..i-i know. it's a lot." he's blabbering in your lips, securing his hold, feeling your tight hole clenching when fingers spanning enough to graze past it, the tip of his finger rubbing where his cock meets your pussy.
it's too much, and clark knows. "y..ou're doing so g-good."
your breath stutters in his mouth, drooling into him helplessly. fuelled by the praise he gives. "so goddamn good." your cheeks presses onto his, panting when the white hot flashes take you to what's now your fourth orgasm.
it comes with no warning. he jolts once, heaving, thick spurts of his cum shooting deep into you. never-ending, seemingly. clark turns you over in a fluid motion, cock still pulsing into you with deep spurts. he presses his hand flat onto your abdomen, where the outline of him pokes at your belly.
he's in awe, fully in the depths of a newfound pleasure. a heavy palm swiping the sweaty strands of your cheeks.
clark readjusts his hold on you, a finger tearing your blouse fully apart. you jolt when the buttons clatter to the ground. you gasp out when he presses deeper into you. his palm cradling your jaw.
"wait...what are you…—" he tuts, pressing a kiss on your parted lips.
SYNOPSIS ⤏ there's no one you hated more than the infamous deadpool, and there's no one you loved more than the friendly spiderman; but it just so happens that the crime fighting partners were some of your closest friends.
PARING ⤏ deadpool! mingi x fem! reader x spiderman! yunho
GENRE ⤏ smau, rom-com, superhero au, enemies?? to lovers, love triangle
FEATURING ⤏ ateez, shuhua from idle, soobin from txt
FACECLAIM ⤏ faceclaim for y/n purely for picture purposes!! (@ 1_ran.thanx on ig)
PLAYLIST ⤏ it's on again, alicia keys & kendrick lamar | self love, metro boomin & coi leroy | heavenly, cigarettes after sex | back on 74, jungle | just like heaven, the cure | hurts me, wallows | bye bye bye, nsync | sos, rihanna | after the storm, kali uchis, tyler the creator & bootsy collins | the subway, chappell roan
Summary: Over your four years working for Reed Richards, you'd given yourself one job: you can be his friend, but don't fall for Johnny Storm's charms. Too bad you had already failed that mission before it could even begin.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, SMUT (making out, unprotected sex, p in v, nipple play, oral f. receiving, temperature play, creampie, aftercare), porn with a LOT of plot, slight hint of some angst, fluff, friends to lovers, Johnny is a massive flirt, mutual pining, SPOILERS! for The Fantastic Four: First Steps, female reader but no characteristics described, mentions of parental loss, maybe some incorrect stuff regarding the 60s and how it worked but it's a fantasy world, lightly edited so apologies for any mistakes
“We need to adjust the parameters for this. There’s a few more levels that I want to adjust, to ensure that we’ve scanned the baby for all possible anomalies,”
Years ago, when you had miraculously been offered the position as Dr. Reed Richards assistant, it was a dream come true. The smartest man alive, holding 18 Doctorate degrees himself, choosing you out of the thousands of applicants to be his assistant was a ‘pinch me’ moment. Of course, he didn’t want an assistant, it was thrust upon him by his wife, but you liked to think after all this time you’d wormed your way into his heart.
Working with Reed…was something else entirely. It was a learning curve, understanding just how the man’s brain worked. Even to this day, you weren’t sure you understood it. Even when things went perfectly, when test runs on prototypes worked out better than you could’ve ever imagined, Reed was never satisfied. Something could always be better, be improved, as if his brain was factoring in the hundreds of thousands of possibilities that could occur and alter your data. You made it work, though–with patience and understanding–you managed to find the best way to work around Reed’s faults and work with him, to support him.
What was supposed to be just a job in the Baxter Building became so much more. Through it, you gained a family you never thought quite possible.
Reed’s wife, Susan Storm, was another one of the brightest minds that you had ever encountered. Kind, compassionate, but fiercely loyal and unafraid to step up to the plate when a challenge arrived, when the people she loved were threatened. You admired her and everything she stood for, the way she carried herself day in and day out. And since the day you had arrived at the Baxter Building, she welcomed you with open arms, as if you had always been part of the family.
Ben Grimm was the most talented pilot you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. The perfect counter to Reed and his panicky mind at times, having known the man long enough to understand his quirks in a way you could only hope to. Ben was always kind, always open, always ready to lend a hand or be a shoulder for anyone that needed to listen.
Johnny Storm…was the bane of your existence, in the best way.
“Wrong address, sweetheart. The modeling agency is two blocks down. I could escort you over there, if you’d like?”
Those were the first words the hot-headed younger brother of Sue Storm had said to you, passing by you in the lobby of the building on your first day, a wink thrown in for good measure when he’d spoken.
Having followed Dr. Richards' work long enough, which meant knowing bits about his personal life, you were well aware of the reputation that Johnny Storm carried. The papers and magazines, talk shows and gossip blogs, all called him a playboy simply because he’d never been in a long-term relationship but was still a ladies man. You never saw him like that, though. All you saw was a brilliant guy, a lover of space, even if that passion of his was sometimes overlooked because of his ‘love for women’.
And, oh, how you wished his empty, blatant flirting with you didn’t bring a blush to your cheeks every time, or make your heart skip a beat, but it did. Every single time, it did. You weren’t blind: Johnny Storm was objectively handsome and much too charming for his own good, and you decided right then and there that you would use every ounce of your willpower to ignore his empty flirts. You didn’t need to become another girl hopelessly in love with the heartthrob of the Fantastic Four, even if your heart ached when you saw him with anyone else.
Those four had become important to you in ways that you would never be able to describe, but Sue always described it best: a family.
That’s why when four of the closest people to you in life went up into space for Reed’s exploration mission, and came back cosmically changed forever, you never left their sides. They were your family, and family stuck together, no matter what.
“Reed,” your comment was cautious, hands stilling at your work station in the lab of the Baxter Building. Glancing over your shoulder, Reed was hunched over the machine he’d built in just a day, specifically to monitor the health of the baby growing inside of Sue’s stomach, as Herbie rocked back and forth beside him. “You’ve scanned Sue a thousand times at this point-”
“That’s an exaggeration. I’ve scanned her 123 times-”
“That’s not the point,” he glanced over at you then, looking away the second he saw the pointed look you were throwing at him. With a sigh, you abandoned your work, leaning back against the table behind you to watch him fret over the device. “We have run every test possible, scanned for every data point that links back to the fluctuations in your DNA from the cosmic rays we noted years ago, and we’ve gotten nothing. Your baby is okay.”
“There are still more tests to run,”
Another sigh escaped past your lips, and you allowed yourself to hang your head with a shake.
Since the moment Sue had announced her pregnancy, he’d been like this: even more on edge than usual. Baby-proofing the kitchen, smoke detectors in every single room and hallway, baby gates around every corner, it was getting insufferable. A sweet gesture, overall, and a testament to how much he loved and adored Sue, but exhausting to everyone else that had to be in his presence.
“Fine, but I’m not breaking the news to Sue that you want to scan her…again,”
“I already told her to meet me down here before dinner for another scan. We can adjust the parameters tomorrow. I want another data set from today’s scan at the current parameters to compare the changes with,” Reed never looked in your direction, still fiddling with the machine in front of him. “You’re staying for dinner, yes?”
“I’m making it,” was the response you shot back to him, powering down your workstation in the lab and rising from your chair, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Apparently Sue has been craving spaghetti, and requested my family recipe.”
“You can’t argue with a pregnant woman,” Reed muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still never looked up. “I’ll see you up there for dinner, then. There’s a few more tests that I want to run.”
“You also have a meeting at 5:45 and one at 6:15,” you shot back to him as you turned to leave the lab, checking the desk calendar lying beside your work station. There was a hum from the man, the smallest acknowledgement you were going to get, so you set your sights on Herbie and waved him forward. “Come on, Herb. An extra hand in the kitchen is always nice.”
As much as you thought of the Fantastic Four as your family, you never stayed for dinner often. You always tried your hardest to uphold the lines between your work life and personal life, not wanting to blur them completely (though, you were sure you had already blurred them enough for it to be too late). There had been plenty of times over the years where you’d stayed for dinner, usually once a month at this rate.
Sue always invited you, and you never wanted to disappoint her, and you gave in often. Ben had a way of wrangling you into saying yes before you were ever given the chance to speak at all. Reed had only asked once, asking you to stay back for the dinner months ago in which they announced to you that Sue was pregnant.
Johnny asked every day. You said no, most of the time, but when you did stay for dinner it was usually because those captivating, bright blue eyes were staring into your soul and pleading with you to stay.
Speak of the devil: there he sat at the dining room table. Clad in a white t-shirt with their logo resting over the pocket and the blue pants of his suit, a weird sight given that you had been in the lab with Reed all day and didn’t think any of them had left to attend to any ‘hero’ work.
You didn’t say a word as you strolled past him into the kitchen with Herbie on your heels, simply plucking the box of Lucky Charms from his hands as you swooped past. It was impossible not to smile to yourself at the scoff of indignation he let out at your actions.
“Hey-!”
“You’re going to spoil your appetite,” you shot back at him, throwing him a smirk over your shoulder before slotting the now closed cereal box into the cupboard where it usually sat.
Herbie beeped out a set of beeps that, over the years, you had come to understand. This time, he was agreeing with you, pointing out some facts about how eating out of the box lacked moderation, and would in turn actually spoil his appetite. You gave the little robot a fist bump for that, something that Johnny shot the little helper a glare for.
“Come on, Herbert, you’re supposed to take my side on these things!” There was no real malice in his words as he got up from the dining room table, rounding into the kitchen as you took the pots and pans that Herbie had gathered for you, setting them out along the counter where you needed them. “Baby, you didn’t tell me you were staying for dinner.”
When you told yourself that you weren’t going to fall into the trap that was the charming and charismatic Johnny Storm, you weren’t prepared for two things.
One: when he got comfortable around someone, he could be an even bigger flirt. Pet names were constant. Baby, sweetheart, honey, doll, love…you name it, Johnny called you it. Constantly. So constantly you were sure the blush on your cheeks was a permanent staple. He’d even once called you his little flame–that had been met with the tip of your heel being dug into his foot.
The second thing you weren’t prepared for: touch. Johnny Storm didn’t understand personal space, not when he was comfortable around you. If you were in the room with him, he was standing less than a foot from you, and you always knew because you could feel the warmth that radiated off his unusually hot skin. His hands would always rest on your arm, your elbow, right at the bottom of your lower back.
Moments like this in the kitchen were normal, and yet they still fried your brain. That simply little pet name, and Johnny’s warm hand ghosting over your lower back, before coming to rest on your hip. Clearing your throat, you gently pried his hand from your body, shooting him a look as you moved around to get the ingredients for dinner, hoping your flushed cheeks didn’t give you away.
“When your pregnant sister has cravings for my personal family recipe spaghetti, I’m required to oblige her,”
“I asked you to make this for me two weeks ago and you refused,”
Johnny followed close behind you, like a little puppy following its owner. You tried, and failed, to contain your smile at his actions. The media might paint him as some sex god (you weren’t going to lie…if he wanted to be, he could be) but you saw him for what he was: the epitome of a little golden retriever at times.
“Well you aren’t a hormonal pregnant woman with super powers,” you shot back at him, taking the opened jar of spaghetti sauce from Herbie’s hand and dumping it into the pot on the stove top, turning up the heat on the boiling pot of water for the noodles Herbie had laid out for you.
“No, but Johnny is a hormonal guy with super powers, who adores your cooking,” bumping his hip with yours, Johnny stole the wooden spoon from your hand with ease, dipping it into the simmering sauce to stir. With that same ease, he leaned down just slightly, leaving a kiss to your bare shoulder that felt as if it had left a brand into your skin. “Johnny also happens to just adore you, and loves when you stay for dinner.”
You had given up on the blush by now. He’d surely seen it enough over the years with his incessant flirting, there was no use in hiding it. Bumping your hip back with him, biting into your bottom lip in a failed attempt to conceal the smile spreading across your lips, you stole the wooden spoon back from him.
“Johnny also talks in the third person too much, and is an insufferable flirt half the time,” he dipped his hand into the sauce, coating his fingers in red as you whacked lightly at his hand, forcing him to withdraw as quickly as he’d dipped in. “What have I told you about doing that!”
He’d laughed, one of your favorite sounds, as you glanced over at him with a bright smile, unable to truly stay mad at him…ever.
That was, until he dipped his sauce-covered ring finger and middle finger into his mouth to lick the sauce clean off, eyes never leaving yours and a smirk curling up on his lips. It forced you to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat and look away as quickly as you could, feeling a different kind of heat swelling in your body: yeah, Johnny knew exactly what he was doing.
“Not sure, baby, that look you’re giving me right now doesn’t scream that I’m insufferable-”
“Oh, that’s exactly what it’s screaming,” you shot back, even with the ghost of a smile pulling at your lips as Herbie readied the garlic bread on the counter behind you. “If you’re not going to help, you can leave this kitchen. I don’t care if you live here.”
Johnny rolled his eyes in response, hopping up onto the counter next to the stove where you worked. You caught the box of noodles he knocked over before they could fall to the ground, shooting him a look as he held his hands up innocently, dumping them into the boiling water pot.
“You basically live here, too,”
“I don’t-”
“Yeah, because you keep refusing the room that Sue prepared for you,”
He…wasn’t wrong. Two years ago, Sue had transformed what was previously the guest room into a room that looked like it had been built just for you. Your favorite color on the walls, a matching quilt set on the bed, and she’d offered it to you. A place to stay, to live, given that Reed sometimes had you in the Baxter Building until the oddest hours of the morning.
You declined, still desperate to keep that line between your work life and your personal life separate, as tempting of an offer as it was. Sue wasn’t slighted by your decision at all, instead offering it to you to use whenever you needed to. There had been times in which you had taken up that offer, a few changes of clothes tucked away in the room on the odd chance that you’d need them.
“This place is your home, not mine,” you didn’t look at Johnny as you spoke, simply shaking your head as you stirred both the sauce and the noodles in their respective pots. “I’m Reed’s assistant, I’m not family-”
“Stop it,”
Even with the heat that rolled off Johnny Storm, every time his bare skin touched your own it sent a shiver straight down the length of your spine. His hand curled around your jawline, thumb and index finger pinching at your chin to force you to look up at him, to gaze into those intense blue eyes and the look on his face that had morphed so quickly from playful to serious.
“Johnny-”
“You are family, whether you like it or not,” the statement didn’t surprise you, it wasn’t the first time in your four years of knowing him that Johnny had said something like this to you, or anyone on the team for that matter. It always made you feel warm inside, though, to hear him say it, to see that loyalty and love for the people he cared about shine through in his words, such a stark contrast to the way the media sometimes portrayed him. “There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you.”
That was new. He hadn’t made a declaration like that to you before.
It was something about the look in his eyes as he said it–so genuine, so soft–that had you melting into his touch. His hand curled back up to your cheek, thumb just barely caressing the apple of your cheek, leaving a trail of heat with every swipe of his finger against your skin. Your heart betrayed you, fluttering in that moment like it always did.
These moments used to be few and far between. You didn’t know how else to describe them besides just calling them moments. Over the first few years of knowing Johnny Storm, there were small moments where that empty flirts verged on the edge of something different, something raw and real. But in the last year, they happened more often than they didn’t. Johnny wasn’t pictured out with as many women anymore, wasn’t brazenly caught flirting with anyone with legs and a pulse at events. And in moments like this, even in front of his family, he’d touch you, caress you, speak to you in a way that felt so genuine, that felt like it was real. Like the flirting was no longer just empty, meaningless fun.
That line between your work and personal life might have been a muddled mess, but the line between being Johnny Storm’s friend and something entirely more was practically non-existent now.
“You say that to all your women?” you quipped back, trying to hold your own, even as you were melting inside and your voice came out as a whisper. The playful look on Johnny’s face returned in a second, his fingers instead pinching the cheek he’d just been so softly caressing.
“Never, honey. Those words are reserved for my brother-in-law’s pretty little assistant,”
In typical Johnny fashion, he was able to dissolve and ruin whatever the moment was in an instant with his usual ‘charm’. Swatting his hand away, you returned your attention to the food on the stove in front of you, smiling to yourself as Herbie beeped out a popular song you’d heard on the radio behind you.
“You always have a line, don’t you?”
“Hey, you know what you signed up for, being friends with all this,” he jokingly motioned to his body, and you caught sight of the smile lighting up his face again as you laughed incredulously at his actions. “As part of the package deal, being friends with me, you are legally required to attend movie night in the living room with me after dinner.”
You hummed in response, even if you were smiling the entire time just from listening to him talk.
“This sounds like an impromptu movie night-”
“All of our movie nights are impromptu, babe-”
“I saw earlier that channel 2 is playing The Sound of Music tonight,” you shot back at him, finally looking up at him with an expectant look on your face. “That’s what I want to watch.”
Johnny groaned, throwing his head back and knocking it against the cupboards with a wince on his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overdramatic antics, as usual.
“But channel 3 is showing Psycho!”
“And you dipped your hand–which, god knows where that thing might have been–into my sauce for dinner,”
Johnny opened his mouth to speak, before mulling over your words, and effectively shutting it with a nod.
“You know what, if it gets you to have a movie night with me, then I’ll take it,”
God, you adored this man, more than you should. More than you wanted to. In his presence, especially now, you were pretty sure the smile on your face was a constant, that it would never leave, as you laughed at him once more.
Finishing off the special blend of additions to your sauce, giving it another swirl with the wooden spoon, you brought it up to your lips for a quick taste. Satisfied, you held one hand under the spoon to keep it from dripping, holding it up toward Johnny.
“Alright, give it a taste,”
His eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar intensity and warmth in them keeping you locked in place, holding your breath, as he took a quick slurp from the spoon. Smacking his lips together, running his tongue out along his lips, he gave a definitive nod.
“As always…perfection. Though, I expect nothing less from you,”
Before you could retort to his cheesy comment, his hand reached out, eyes still locked on yours, as he cupped your chin once more and ran his finger over your lips. With the slightest of glances down, you saw the small spot of red on his finger, the remnants of the sauce he’d so gently just wiped from your lips.
Glancing back up to those blue eyes you loved more than you cared to admit, you caught the way they finally glanced down at your lips, before looking away as if to not get caught.
“...am I interrupting something?”
As if Johnny had burst into flames and burned you, you jumped away from him immediately the second you heard the voice of Sue Storm across the room. You never even looked back up at Johnny, or turned around to look at the woman by the dining room table, just stared down into the sauce pot as you continued to stir it and the noodles.
“Actually, sis, you very much are interrupting something here,” Johnny called out across the room, and you could see him gesturing with his hands between you both from the corners of your vision.
“Johnny,” you rolled your eyes, glancing over at him with flushed red cheeks from what had just transpired. “Sue isn’t interrupting anything.”
“She kind of is. We were kind of having a moment here-”
“Johnny, we were not having a moment,”
You very much were having a moment, but you weren’t admitting that to him. His ego burned hot enough, no need to stroke the fire.
Sue laughed, rounding into the kitchen as she stopped by Herbie, thanking him and taking the garlic bread tray from him to pop into the oven he had preheated.
“Johnny, why don’t you go get cleaned up for dinner and stop bothering the poor girl. Bad enough I’m making her cook for me, she doesn’t need you hovering,”
The man let out a sigh, muttering something mocking toward his sister, as he threw himself off the counter with dramatic flair. He wasn’t done making your heart race, though, his hand curling around the back of your head as he planted a kiss directly to your hairline, before he disappeared from the kitchen with a pat to Herbie’s head.
The pots on the stove were forgotten as you turned around, simply watching him disappear with an incredulous look on your face. Quickly, your eyes shot to Sue, who was watching you with a smirk as she leaned against the island counter.
“There was nothing happening there,”
“I didn’t say there was,”
“But you’re giving me that look,”
“I’m not giving you any kind of look,” the blonde laughed, stepping up beside you to take the wooden spoon from your hand, tasting the sauce herself with a happy little sigh. “Just…enjoying watching the show from the sidelines, waiting for one of you to make a move.”
“Sue, there’s no move to make. He’s just…he’s Johnny,”
“And Johnny is my brother,” she shot back with a grin. “And Johnny has never been like that with someone, just with you.”
You didn’t get to respond, before Herbie cut in with another series of beeps. Your eyes shot wide as you listened to what he was saying, cheeks flaring an even brighter shade of red as Sue choked on air, laughing to herself at your side.
“HERBIE! THAT’S SO INAPPROPRIATE!”
❤︎
It had been two weeks, and Reed had somehow managed to scan Sue a total of 142 times, now. Sometimes, you wondered how she was able to put up with his hovering, the hovering that had gotten exponentially worse since she announced she was pregnant.
“I’m not getting clear imaging,” Reed called out from the other side of the lab, the only sound in the room being the incessant beeping of the machine he’d built to monitor the baby, and the solder iron in your hand as it worked away on the small device in front of you. You shook your head at his comments once more, adjusting the eye protectors resting on the bridge of your nose as little sparks jumped up as the last piece of the triangular device was finally attached. “I’m going to have Herbie recalibrate this, I don’t like the data output I’m getting, I want a clear image on the next scan. Is the second bridge device ready?”
“Just finished fixing the soldering on the stand, so it should be good to go,” you shot back, tossing your eye protectors down at your workstation, lifting the device carefully and carrying it over to Reed’s station, setting it down with the matching device. “And, once again, you really don’t need to scan the baby again.”
You were met with silence, unsurprisingly. Until, the workstation down the room set off its alarm bell, a familiar tone that had you stand up straighter where you stood.
“New deep space transmission,” there was a hint of elation in Reed’s tone as he said it, quickening his pace across the room with Herbie hot on his trail. “Let’s identify the origin, then record it for further analysis.”
Quickly walking back over to your workstation, your eyes drifted to that desk calendar sitting next to you, and to today’s date: a poorly drawn flame, and the time “2:15” scribbled in a barely legible handwriting that you recognized instantly. Even if you hadn’t, the terribly drawn heart with your initials in it scribbled in the corner would’ve given it away.
“Your analysis is going to have to wait, Reed,” you called out with a sigh, knowing you weren’t the one who put this meeting on the calendar, but you sure knew who had. “You have a 2:15 incoming.”
“2:15? What 2:15?” Reed never even looked in your direction, focused on the new transmission. “You didn’t tell me there was anything on my calendar.”
“Well, I didn’t put this one on the calendar myself, but you must have cleared it at some point…”
Just then, the elevator doors to the lab popped open with a familiar ding sound.
“Ah–Reed!”
Good god, Johnny Storm was trying to kill you. You weren’t even sure if that was an exaggeration at this point, because you wouldn’t put it past him.
Blue looked good on him, it always had, but the navy blue button up he was wearing was doing nothing for your mind that was screaming at you to “keep it professional.” It didn’t help that the first few buttons were already undone, giving a slight peak to his chest. The white chinos–those were the nail in your metaphorical coffin. They had no right to be that tight, and he had no right to look so damn good in them.
“Ah…that 2:15,” you tried your best to conceal your laugh at Reed’s comment across the lab. “Johnny, do we have to today?”
“Johnny, do we have to today? As if I didn’t ask to put it on the schedule,” the blonde man in question mumbled mockingly to himself as he slid up to your side at your workstation as you laughed at his antics. One of his hands grabbed the back of your neck, tugging you closer before you could even think about it, pressing another kiss to your hairline. Suddenly, you felt like you were back in the kitchen weeks ago. “Darling, have I ever told you how breathtaking you look in your lab coat?”
“It’s a white coat, Johnny, it’s nothing special,” you deflected, taking just a short glance up at him before you had to look away, already knowing you were as red as the table beneath your hands.
“But the girl wearing it is-”
“Johnny, do you want to have this meeting or do you want to flirt with my assistant?”
You hung your head with a groan, even as Johnny laughed at the comment from his brother-in-law. His arm slung around your waist, hand settling on your hip as the heat that rolled off his body enveloped you for a moment, letting yourself lean into the side hug he gave you and the squeeze to your hip, before he was gone.
“There’s enough time in the day to do both! No, I had some thoughts about the new suit designs,”
“There are no new space suit designs-”
You glanced over at the pair as they met face-to-face in the middle of the lab, Johnny holding up the sheet he was concealing behind his back.
“You finished them years ago…they have dust on them,” Johnny deadpanned, letting out a sigh as Reed took the design sheet from him. “Look, I get it. You’re going to be a father soon, you’re scared-”
“I’m not-I’m not scared,” Reed cut in immediately, and you could hear the anxious undertone that overtook him immediately at Johnny’s words. Without even having to be summoned, knowing how his brain worked after all this time, you simply shrugged off your lab coat and stalked over to the pair, taking the design sheet from Reed’s hands without a word and placing it on his chalkboard full of equations. “I’m-I’m busy, Johnny. I’m busy. I’m busy, there’s a difference.”
“He means busy on his pace to scan Sue at least 200 times before she gives birth,” you shot back, sending Reed a bright smile that he frowned at, clearly seeing that you were siding with Johnny here. “Not terrified of becoming a father at all, those two things definitely don’t correlate.”
Johnny laughed, smile bright, and it only brightened the one on your face, a tug somewhere deep in your chest pulling on you when he locked eyes with you. Reed snapped your attention back to him in an instant, running a hand down his face as he gestured in Herbie’s direction.
“Just handle the new deep space transmission, please, instead of ganging up on me with Johnny,”
You laughed, heels clicking against the floors of the lab as you joined Herbie’s side as he waited for the transmission to be scratched into the record. There was a woosh of air, the air beside you heating up instantly as a hand found its way to rest on your lower back.
“Have you listened to it yet?”
The smile on your face softened as you glanced over at Johnny, who was staring down at the record in front of you both with pure excitement in his eyes. Beyond the physical moments, his flirtatious moments, these were the moments that had your plan to not fall for Johnny Storm splitting at the seams, if it hadn’t already.
“Seems to be a lot more of the same, just another complex signal,” Johnny left your side, the heat going with him, as he leaned against the blue table behind him. Herbie took the record from its place, rolling over to Johnny to hand it directly to him. “You’re more than welcome to take it with you, give it a listen.”
He twirled the record in his hands with a grin, absentmindedly reaching out to scratch the top of Herbie’s head. That simple little action elicited a giggle, hand coming up to cover your mouth as Johnny glanced up at you with a smirk.
“What’s so funny?”
“Herbie isn’t a dog, and yet you treat him like one,” you explained, stepping up just in front of him and grabbing his hand lightly, stopping the twirling of the record in his hands. “Also, you do know you aren’t supposed to get your fingerprints all over these, right?”
It was Johnny’s turn to laugh as he spun his hand, catching it in his palm and bringing it up to his lips, leaving a scorching hot, but gentle, kiss to your knuckles, sending a shiver straight through your bones. He didn’t even have a retort to your comment, just simply held your hand in his, thumb stroking along your skin, while your entire body flushed with a feeling you wanted to ignore.
“Johnny, what have I told you about flirting in my lab? I need my assistant, we’re trying to run a test,”
The moment was gone in seconds, your hand dropped from Johnny’s as he raced to the other side of the lab, following closely behind Reed and tossing the record onto the closest table.
You could only shake your head with a laugh, walking beside Herbie to join them, knowing Reed would be mumbling to himself the rest of the week about this moment and how much Johnny liked pissing him off.
“Cool! I got time,”
Reed didn’t roll his eyes as you and Herbie joined them back at your workstations, but you could see how much he wanted to. Holding the device you’d just finished off in his hand, you watched in the same awe you had for four years as his arm stretched across the length of the lab, placing it right back beside your own workstation.
“Bridge teleportation test one,” grabbing the notebook lying beside the device that contained your notes on the project, you flipped to a new page, prepared to note down any disparities that occurred during the test, as Reed placed an egg on the newly soldered stand. “Movement of organic matter six meters.”
Johnny grabbed the protective glasses beside the work desk, about to slip them on, before Reed took them with no hesitation and slipped them on himself. The blonde turned to you with an incredulous look that simply drew a laugh from you.
“Those are his pair, you can’t touch his pair,” you teased the man, who simply shot you a wink in return, as you both took the pairs that Herbie was holding out to you both. Johnny gave the little robot a quick fist bump.
Such a simple action that still had you grinning in childlike adoration at the side of his face.
Reed gave you a simple look, confirming you were ready. You gave him a nod, as he took hold of the switch to activate the device.
“Let’s run it,”
The whirring of the machine sounded, three silver beams of energy emitting from the device and encasing the egg within a sphere of energy. There was a shift in the room as that energy grew, as the hum of the machine filled the air, before there was a simple POP–and the egg was gone.
One glance from each of you over your shoulders was enough to confirm that the egg was, in fact, sitting on the opposite platform. Completely untouched and intact.
“It worked!” Johnny exclaimed, gesturing toward the egg.
That’s when the power to the building cut out.
It wasn’t surprising, given the notes you both had taken. The amount of energy that needed to be funneled through the device in order to channel enough energy to actually move organic matter without hurting it was sure to be beyond the energy limits of the Baxter Building. A full power outage…not what you were expecting. Not that you could write that note down in the pitch black of the room.
“Johnny,” Reed’s voice called out in the dark, steady with no hint of any emotion you could decipher in it. The man in question came to life beside you, body engulfed in flames, the flame resistant fabric of his specially tailored clothing working overtime to keep him from being stark naked. He stood with his hands on his hips, and even from the side you could see the smirk curling up on his lips. “Could you reset the breaker?”
You’d known Johnny long enough now, been his friend for enough years, to know him. Know him better than a colleague should. The instant dip in his smirk to a frown was clear, the tension in his broad shoulders, as he tossed his glasses down onto the table. He didn’t spare either of you another look, crossing the room to grab the record.
“Other way-”
“I know,” Johnny snapped, beside his flame engulfed body was on the other side of the lab, flipping the breaker as the electricity of the building roared to life again. The second it did, he was in the elevator, doors shutting without another word.
Neither you nor Reed spoke for a moment, simply looking down at the bridge teleportation device on the table in front of him.
“I’ve upset him,”
Reed didn’t phrase it like a question, he said it like a statement. Both were true, though. Reed always knew when he had upset Johnny, but never how he had really upset him.
You took a deep breath, nodding, as you scribbled a note in your notebook before turning on your heels, stalking back to your own workstation.
“Well, he went out of his way to put time on your calendar just to talk to you about the suits, and you did dismiss him…” you trailed off as you reached your station, eyes flickering back down to that desk calendar beside you. You couldn’t help it, letting your fingers lightly trail over that little heart with your initials, smiling to yourself, wishing it meant more than what it did mean: nothing. “Johnny loves space, he only got to go up once before…this all happened. You can’t blame him for wanting to go back.”
It was quiet for another moment in the lab, before Reed spoke up again.
“You know him well…better than I think I do,”
The flush in your cheeks was inevitable at that, embarrassment flooding you as it was easy for you to read between the lines of what Reed was trying to insinuate.
“I-I just listen to him. I always listen,”
It was quiet again.
“Go check on him,” was all Reed said. “If there’s anyone he’d want to talk to right now, it’s you.”
You wanted to argue, to save the crumbling bits of that wall between work and personal, but even you knew it was too late for that.
Johnny’s bedroom door was just two down from the guest room Sue had offered you years ago, a bathroom being the only thing that separated them. Ben’s room was at the other end of the hallway, along with the nursery where the soon to be baby Richards would sleep.
You may not have stayed in that guest room often, but you’d been in these hallways enough to know it like the back of your hand. To know it like it was your own home.
There were countless nights, before you’d make the short walk back to your apartment, where Johnny had coerced you into movie nights in his room. He’d never try anything, never push you into something, always leaving the door open to make sure you knew he wasn’t bringing you upstairs for some alternative reason. His room was just quieter, and felt more private. It gave you the chance to see the side of Johnny that the world didn’t get to see.
The space lover, who spent his life dreaming of being an astronaut, of going into space and seeing the stars. He was a thrill-seeker, always wanting to live his life on the edge, to find joy in those rushes of adrenaline. But beyond it all, just a good man. A man who had an entire collection of records lining one wall of his room, organized from his favorite records to his least favorite, even though he claimed there wasn’t really a least favorite. The world got to know the Human Torch, but in the confines of those four walls, you got to know Johnny Storm. The second you did, you knew your heart was fucked.
You found him in a spot you’d found him in before: leaning against the floor to ceiling windows of his room, staring out at the spaceship he hadn’t stepped foot in for four years. Your heart broke slightly from where you stood in the doorway, able to see the longing that was woven into his frown, that shone through his eyes that never strayed far from the Excelsior.
“You know,” with a few steps into the room, standing beside the record player, you lifted the needle to stop the replay of the foreign language from the deep space transmission that played on a loop. Johnny looked over, a soft smile overtaking his frown at the sight of you, as you kept your own voice soft and light. “I don’t think deep space transmissions are the right background music if you’re going to stare longingly out your window.”
Johnny laughed in a huff, turning on his heel to flick through his record collection.
“And suggestions then for a melancholic moment such as this?”
“Elvis typically has some hits that can set that mood,”
You watched him, the slight shake in his body that hinted he was laughing again, before he plucked a record from the shelves and rose back to his feed. Standing beside the record player with you, he slid it into your hands without another word and plopped into the chair just across from the player.
With care, like you’d done it a hundred times before (you had, right here in this room), you slipped the record onto the player, dropping the needle down as it coasted along the grooves etched into the record.
When no-one else can understand me, when everything I do is wrong…you give me hope and consolation. You give me strength to carry on.
The lyrics settled in you heavily, but it made your body feel lighter. It was impossible not to read into them, to not think too hard about the deliberate music choice that Johnny had made. You couldn’t help that, somewhere deep in your heart where you had buried your feelings for the flaming man years ago, you were hoping these lyrics were a personal message to you.
“Reed send you to check on me?” Johnny asked after a moment, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his chest as he watched you. Composing yourself for a moment, shoving the flurry of butterflies beating against your chest down, you turned to face him and his blue eyes with a shrug.
“Technically, but I would’ve come on my own,” Johnny hummed, the ghost of a smile on his lips, as his gaze found its way back to the spaceship taunting him just beyond the window. “Come on, matchstick, talk to me.”
He huffed out another laugh, stretching his arms above his head as you tried your best to keep your eyes trained on his face and not drift down his torso. Eventually, his arms settled back across his chest, his gaze still stuck out the window.
“I don’t know…it’s stupid. Last time we went up, we came back with superpowers, trust me, I get that. Now, he’s got a kid on the way. But I know–I know–that he knows how much space means to me. So, when he just dismisses me like that-”
“It makes you feel inadequate? Like you’re a child?” Johnny’s gaze found you again as you shrugged with a light smile. “I’ve worked in an enclosed space with him almost every day for four years, Johnny. He used to make me feel that way all the time, until I realized that Reed’s never trying to make me feel like that.”
“I know he’s not doing it on purpose…doesn’t mean I’m not going to shit talk him in the confines of these walls,” he gestured around the room as you laughed, coming to stand beside his chair, looking down on him as he sighed once more. His hands fell, gripping his knees, as he rubbed them back and forth against the fabric of his pants. “I love space. Simple as that.”
You hummed, bending down beside the chair Johnny sat in so that you were essentially squatting before him, having to look up at him. Hesitation caught you for just a second, your brain actively fighting a war with your heart as you raised your hands, but you ultimately took his hands in yours.
All it took was a second for your eyes to drift over to the table beside him. One lamp, a stack of books, and the flash of a polaroid photo leaning against those books: a photo of you. Taken at some point in the lab, laughter written across your face, your hand almost blocking a portion of the lens as you tried to stop him from taking the photo. You didn’t even remember it being taken in the first place.
Good god, he was really going to be the death of you.
Eyes quickly back on him, with a little squeeze to his hands, you gave Johnny the most comforting smile you could, even as your heart did somersaults in your chest.
“I know you do. You’ll go back to space, Johnny, I promise,”
His eyes watched your hands, and you could see it on his face: that hint of adoration, that hint of something genuine that suggested it wasn’t all just a game, that you weren’t imaging moments for more than they were.
“What if I don’t?”
“You’re Johnny Storm, I’ve never seen you not get something you wanted before. Especially not something you want this bad,”
His mouth parted just slightly as he hesitated. You watched as his tongue darted out, just barely grazing over the edge of his bottom lip, before you flicked your eyes back to his.
“You’re wrong…I think there’s something I want more. Been trying to get it for awhile, but…she just keeps slipping through my fingers somehow,”
That tug on your heart was back. Your heart was surely beating so fast that it could be heard, hammering against your ribcage, as his thumbs glided back and forth across your skin. You could barely think of a response, too stuck on his words: the closest thing to a confession of any kind you’d heard in four years. Raw, real, genuine.
Johnny stood quickly, barely giving you a chance to potentially think of a response as he tugged you back to your feet. His arm enveloped your waist, your hand falling to his bicep as he still held your other hand in the air beside you both. You weren’t sure now if the flush crawling up your neck into your cheeks was from the moment, or from the heat radiating off of him.
“W-What are you doing?”
“We’re dancing,” he said it as if it was the most casual thing in the world, that usual smirk of his back on his face. Whatever had happened moments before, whatever confession may or may not have been said, was brushed away in an instant, that charming, flirty personality of his back in full force. “Can’t turn on Elvis and not dance, I think that’s a literal crime.”
“I didn’t know you even knew how to dance,”
“Oh, I don’t, Sue’s been telling me for years that I have two left feet,” Johnny shot back, shooting a wink down at you as his hand readjusted its grip along your waist. “Can’t be that hard with the prettiest girl in the building in my arms, right?”
Swaying back and forth, wrapped up in the heat of his body, in the faint smell of the cologne that coated his clothing, you were very certain that Johnny Storm was going to be the death of you.
And when you smile the world is brighter. You touch my hand and I'm a king. Your kiss to me is worth a fortune, your love for me is everything.
Johnny tilted his head back from you by just a hair, and you followed suit. Deep blue eyes, as captivating to you as they were the first time you ever saw them, shone with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. If you could, you weren’t sure you would survive knowing.
Faces just an inch away, the closest and most intimate moment you’d ever shared with the man you knew in your heart was never going to be just your friend, your colleague, you were verging on the edge of making a terrible choice. Of opening the floodgates, of unlocking the feelings you’d buried away so long ago and letting them flow.
“This is an interesting little relationship you and I have, you know,”
Johnny always found a way to ruin these moments, and this was just another example. Lips tugged up into a smirk, mischief swarming his eyes as he teased you, that fleeting moment of raw vulnerability was gone.
Hand slipped from his, body pulled back from his and a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heel within seconds.
“So typical of you, Storm,”
“What-? What did I do!”
You huffed out a laugh, a smile creeping onto your lips even as you tried to keep it at bay, as you threw your comment over your shoulder as you walked toward the door.
“You went and killed the moment, Johnny, as per usual,”
“...so you admit it, we WERE having a moment!”
You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you crossed through the doorframe. You could never stay mad at him, not when your heart yearned for him in a way you wish it didn’t.
“Come on! At least let me make it up to you. Will you stay for dinner?”
With a final glance cast over your shoulder toward him, you shot him a bright smile.
“If you’re lucky, flame boy!”
❤︎
Yeah, you really couldn’t say no to Johnny Storm.
Not when he’d spoken so sweetly to you, held you so tenderly, and all around just invaded every part of your brain and your heart. To be fair, he barely had to try honestly to do that.
It wasn’t shocking to see Ben in the kitchen, it seemed to be one of his happy places. You weren’t complaining: on the nights you did stay for dinner, and Ben was cooking, you knew you were going home with the best leftovers the city of New York had ever seen.
“Decided to stay for dinner again?” Sue called out toward you with a smile, giving Herbie a pat on the head as he worked away at carving a pumpkin. You shot her a smile in return, pouring yourself a quick glass of water before making your way toward Ben.
“Johnny asked…and I decided to be nice and oblige him,” you didn’t miss the teasing hum that Ben let out, lightly whacking him on his rocky shoulder. Not that it did you any good, hurting your hand more than it would ever hurt him. His laughter was ignored as your eyes lit up, catching sight of the familiar black and white cookies he was dumping onto a plate. “Oh my god, did you go grab these from Maisie’s?”
“Yes,” Ben waved your hand away when you went to reach for the cookies, producing another paper bag and sliding it your way. “These ones are yours.”
The smell that wafted from the bag was enough to have you almost moaning in the middle of the kitchen, eagerly digging one of the cookies out. Maisie’s famous snickerdoodle cookies, the perfect blend of cinnamon and sugar that you had adored since you were a little girl. One bite of the cookie had you in absolute heaven.
“Oh my god, I haven’t had these in ages!” Ben and Sue both laughed at your excitement as you took another bite of the warm cookie in your hand. “How did you know these were my favorites?”
Ben’s smirk wasn’t hard to miss at all.
“Oh, I didn’t. Johnny asked me to pick those up for you,”
It was probably time to accept that blushing around this family was the only thing you were capable of.
Sue’s laughter rang loudest as she rounded the island counter, high fiving Ben as she shot you a pointed look.
“You really have my brother wrapped around your finger without even trying, huh? You know, before I went to get scanned–again–in the lab, I stopped by the nursery to check out the crib progress. Heard a little The Wonder of You from down the hall, thought I’d peek in…”
The groan you emitted could probably be heard from the other side of the country, leaning down to barely bang your head against the countertop. Ben and Sue’s laughter rang through the air again as you looked up, desperately waving your hands.
“I swear, it wasn’t what it looked like-”
“What wasn’t what it looked like?”
Of course, Johnny chose to make his grand entrance at that moment. Thankfully for you, he’d changed out of that ridiculously hot button up. Unfortunately for you, he was still wearing those god forsaken white chinos.
“Your little dance Sue was telling me about earlier,” Ben teased, easily catching your hand as it came up to whack him again in his rough, oversized one. “What’s with the long face?”
“Oh that dance was exactly what it looked like. Thanks for coming to dinner though, sweetheart, glad you like the cookies,” Johnny tacked on a wink in your direction, one you affectionately rolled your eyes over, before his smile was back to a frown. “And what of it, Ben?”
“Sounds like your 2:15 with Reed didn’t go well. I’m sorry, pal,”
From across the room, you could see Johnny’s shoulders move in a huff of laughter as he clapped, bringing down the cabinet shelf that held the same box of cereal you had taken from him two weeks ago. You moved around the island counter, filming your cup with more water before standing opposite of Ben while Johnny made his way back over.
“Hey, I’m fine,” he spoke, though the edge in his words was clear as he did, coming to stand directly at your side. “I don’t mind or anything, it’s just, uh-”
“I hear you, pal. We’ll go to space again,”
“That’s what I was trying to tell him earlier,” you tacked on, bumping your hip with Johnny’s, who quickly did the same back to you.
That smile you adored was back in moments, though, as he dug his hand into the box and produced the action figure waiting inside: a miniature Johnny Storm. His bright grin was turned in your direction as he waved the toy toward you, his signature catchphrase from the cartoon–flame on–ringing through the air as Reed entered the room, greeting his wife by the dining room table.
“They captured my likeness so perfectly, don’t you think?” he quipped, activating the catchphrase once again as you rolled your eyes. “Do you still have the one I gave you a few months ago?”
“Yeah, buried in the junk drawer of my kitchen,”
Johnny feigned shock, pinching your side quickly as you squirmed away with a laugh.
“At least upgrade me to your bedside table so I can be with you while you sleep,” that stupid line was accented with another wink before Johnny thrust the toy in Ben’s face. “Come on, admit it’s cool.”
That catchphrase just kept repeating.
I’m Johnny Storm! Flame On!
Flame On!
Flame On!
Ben grabbed the toy from Johnny’s hand in seconds, crushing it to nothing but dust and blowing it back in Johnny’s face with a smirk. You tried everything to conceal your laughter, but it was inevitable.
“Flame off!”
Sirens rang outside the balcony of the building’s living room. The flying cars of the police force raced past, bathing the room in red and blue lights. The second they disappeared, another squadron flew past in the other direction, the sirens all intermixing in the air.
These were the moments you never got to see often, when the team sprung into action. It was clear in Johnny and Ben alone, how their silly little moment was forgotten as they thrust into action, prepared to go running out of the building into danger. Reed simply held up a hand, shaking his head at the group.
“No, no, it’s alright. This is me,”
Ben and Sue followed Reed out onto the balcony, but Johnny hung back, his gaze stuck on you as you hadn’t moved from the kitchen. He simply tilted his head toward his family, holding his hand out for you. Such a simple move that shouldn’t have kickstarted your heart into what was surely an irregular rhythm, but it did.
The second you were at his side, Johnny’s hand rested at the small of your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt just so to tug you slightly closer to his side. Together, you stepped out onto the balcony of the Baxter Building beside Ben, overlooking New York as it was bathed in every corner in red and blue.
“For the past few months, I’ve been tracking a small number of criminal organizations throughout the city,”
You shot a look down at your boss, eyebrow raised.
“That’s what you’ve been doing in that notebook by your desk?” Reed simply waved your comment off, pointing just down the block, fairly close to the area in which your apartment resided.
“47 of them, to be exact. Including the Puppet Master in the Bowery, the Wizard in Gramercy Park, and Diablo in Washington Heights,”
Everyone on the balcony went quiet for a moment.
“You…baby-proofed the world,” Ben finally spoke. Sue’s sigh could be heard from the other end of the balcony as she tried to defend her husband.
“It’s a sweet gesture,”
“It’s a little insane,” you mumbled to yourself, just loud enough for you and Johnny to hear. The blonde at your side simply shrugged, glancing down at you and catching your gaze.
“It’s not totally crazy. He’s trying to protect the things he loves, what’s most precious to him…” Johnny’s lips quirked up just slightly. “I’d do it too…I’d do it for you.”
He said it so…so earnestly. With so much conviction in his tone, as if this was a certainty to him. That protecting not just his family, but you, was something he needed to do. That if it came down to it, he’d do it without a second thought.
“You…you have to stop saying things like that to me, Johnny,” you hated how breathless your voice came out, how wrecked you sounded as you whispered your response back to him, the conversation still droning on in the background between the other three.
The smile on Johnny’s face only widened, his hand slipping around from your lower back to your waist, as he gave you a light squeeze.
“Stop saying what, the truth?”
No, you need to stop saying things that are making me fall in love with you.
Love. That was a word that had only crossed your mind once when it came to Johnny Storm.
It was two years ago, a week to the day that you had lost your mother, your biggest supporter in life. You stood at that funeral, surrounded by estranged family members you hadn’t spoken to in years, and family friends who wept for your loss. Reed, Sue, Ben and Johnny had come, offered their condolences, paid their respects.
When the others left, Johnny stayed. He stood by your side through the first viewing, never left it during the second viewing, and stood with you in the pouring rain an hour after they’d put her in the ground. You had cried, he held you, and he’d simply never left you alone that day. The colleague that had quickly become a friend, who flirted with you every chance he got, never uttered a single flirtatious comment that day. He’d simply been there, been the shoulder you needed.
That was the day you realized you may have fallen in love with the one man you told yourself not to fall in love with, and you buried those feelings in your heart for what you thought would be forever.
“Stuck in your head over there? Come on, it’s dinner time,”
Ben’s voice broke you from your stupor. The team had all started to make their way inside while you were left at the balcony railing, hands white knuckled on top of the rail.
Johnny’s hand was held out toward you, and you ignored every part of your brain that told you not to and slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you back in toward the living room.
That’s what their watches all went off, alerts blaring in sync with one another.
It was like a firework went off, a boom shattering the night air of the city. The clouds, the sky, were painted in gold, streaks of meteors and debris crossing the sky as they fell to the earth. The sound that emitted from the golden cloud that stretched across the sky, bathing the city in its light, felt…otherwordly. Like a scream, like a warning.
A warm hand enveloped your face, turning your wide eyes away from the scene.
There were very few times you saw Johnny as serious as he was now. Jaw locked, eyes narrowed but still soft as they looked at you, the cascades of gold shone over his face, highlighting his features as another boom sounded off in the distance.
“Go inside, don’t come out,”
Words were caught in your throat. All you could manage was a nod, his thumb doing a single swipe over your cheek, before he patted Reed on the shoulder and launched himself over the railing and into the air, igniting himself as he went.
If not for the moment, you would have stopped to admire him as he flew, bathed in the reds and oranges of his fire. You were awestruck every time you got to witness those cosmic powers firsthand.
Reed, Sue, and Ben had followed not long after, as you could hear the familiar whirled of their car through the air, chasing after Johnny through the city, following whatever had just appeared from the sky.
You? You sat on the living room couch, wringing your hands together to keep them from shaking. You’d been there as they had dealt with Red Ghost, or even Moleman, but this?
This was different. This was otherworldly. This was terrifying. And when Herbie flipped the switch of the television, rolling to your side, you were greeted with the sight of the silver alien woman hovering in Times Square for the first time.
“Your planet is now marked for death. Your world will be consumed by the devourer,”
Her voice sent a single chill down the column of your spine. Herbie’s robotic hand reached out for yours, ceasing the endless wringing of your hands together. You took it without hesitation, though you wished in your heart it was someone else’s hand holding yours in this moment.
“Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak. Use this time to rejoice, and celebrate, for your time is short. I herald his beginning…I herald your end…I herald, Galactus.”
And thus began the longest night of your life since the day your colleagues went into space and came back forever changed.
Sending the team into space was the only option, to confront this mystery at its source. Reed had given you the basics in passing: the threat was real, there was documentation of plants across the universe disappearing entirely, the chrome woman’s signature left on each of them. He’d tasked you to the launch team, to prepare Excelsior for launch in T-16 hours.
Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak.
Those words rattled around your brain the entire night, into the wee hours of the morning. Even as you helped Lynn set up the press conference, as you conferred with the launch team to ensure that the Excelsior was prepared in every conceivable way, as you checked and double-checked every data point throughout the entire ship, her words never left you.
Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak.
The anxiety was clawing at you, even as you threw yourself into work. The notion of what her words meant, of what could happen, of how close the end could be.
The clock read sometime around 2 a.m. when you had finally stepped foot in that guest room made for you. There was no way you were walking home tonight. Besides, come morning, there would still be too much to do, too many data points that needed to be checked, too many scenarios that would need to be run through to make sure your team came back to you.
You knew sleep wasn’t coming to you, though, not when that metallic voice was rattling around your head. Not when an alien threat was upending your life. Not when, two doors away, there was a man that you did, in fact, want to hold close…in case you never got the chance to again.
You loved him. All it took was the end of the world to admit it.
Clad in nothing but an old t-shirt with the 4 logo on the front, one you were sure was Johnny’s, and a pair of shorts, you didn’t care what you looked like as you tore out of the room and into the hallway. Not now, not when your world was being threatened, not when your entire life could be ripped from you in a matter of seconds.
Johnny was awake, just as you knew he would be. White shirt, plaid blue pants you’d seen him sleep in so many times, he stood in his dark room by the windows once more, watching the crews rush around on the ground as they prepared the ship for launch in just a few hours. That same record from earlier in the day was still playing.
I guess I'll never know the reason why you love me as you do. That's the wonder, the wonder of you.
With a step into the room, shutting the door behind you and flicking on the lamp just beside the door, Johnny finally met your eyes.
“I couldn’t sleep,” was the only thing you could manage to say. Johnny tilted his head, studying you silently, before he held out his hand just as he had done hours before.
“Come here,”
Crossing the room in a matter of moments, you all but fell into his arms. His outstretched hand ignored, he was frozen in place for just a moment as you curled your arms around his neck, throwing yourself into his arms. The faint smell of his cologne lingered, as did his bodywash, and the sigh you let out the second the smell hit you was in comfort.
It didn’t take Johnny long to unfreeze, his arms finding their place around your waist. One hand rested on your upper back, one pressing into your lower back. A faint kiss was placed to the side of your head, heat lingering for a second. Heat lingered in your entire body, radiating off of him in waves.
“You have to talk to me, baby,”
Talk? The truth was, you didn’t know where to start. How were you supposed to explain that, since the moment you had met Johnny Storm, your heart was already his. That in all your moments over the years, you’d fallen for the man you told yourself not to fall for. And as the threat from the metallic woman loomed over the world, as he prepared to try and save life as you knew it, the only thing you wanted was to be held by him. To know he was here, that he was okay, that he was with you.
“I-I’m scared,”
Those were the only words you could settle on. Johnny pulled back, his hands sliding gently around the fabric of the shirt hanging loosely from your body until they reached your face. He cradled you, so softly and gently in his hands, it was almost involuntary the way you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, his warmth, chasing the feeling of security it brought you.
“It’s okay to be,” the gentle tone in his voice washed over you, covering you like a blanket. It’s exactly how he had spoken to you that day, standing in the rain when you refused to leave your mother’s side, reassuring you he was there. “I don’t care what the herald said, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right?”
Of course you knew that. If there was anything you knew for certain in this world, it was that when Johnny Storm said he’d protect you, he meant it. He’d spent long enough proving that to you.
There was no hesitation on your part when you laid your own hands overtop of his. Fingers curling around them, tugging his right hand just barely from your cheek, you turned and pressed the lightest of kisses to the palm of his hand.
Johnny froze. You could feel it. The slight tilt of his head, the questioning look that flickered across his face in the moonlight that shone through the windows. It was all fair. You were never the one to cross the boundary like this, to make a move such as this.
“I can’t stop thinking about what she said,” was how you tried to explain yourself, stopping and starting your sentence over and over as you tried to find the right way to explain yourself, the walls crumbling and the floodgates bursting wide open. “Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak…it’s why I came to you.”
A single emotion crossed Johnny’s face in seconds: understanding.
That signature smirk of his was back in moments, even if it was twinged with a softness reserved only for you. The heat left your cheeks, but found your hands as Johnny’s fingers intertwined with yours, hanging your joined hands down between you both. There was a bright light that passed over the window for just a moment, bathing the two of you in bright light, before you were plunged back into the darkness of his room yet again.
“You did come to me…why’s that?”
“You know why-”
“I do,” he said it so matter-of-factly, that smirk growing just a tad as he leaned into your personal bubble by just a hair. “This push and pull, four years of ‘will they’ or ‘won’t they.’ I want to hear you say it, baby.”
“It’s not that easy,” you immediately shook your head, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as Johnny simply watched you. “Saying it…makes it real.”
He scoffed, the sound mixed with laughter, as his head cocked slightly more to the side.
“You came into my bedroom at 2 in the morning–wearing my shirt, might I add–is that not real enough?”
“When you’ve spent years trying to ignore how you feel and refusing to say it, it’s not that easy to say,” you desperately tried to explain. “If I say it…then everything changes.”
Johnny took barely another step forward, and you almost wanted to step back, to bring back the space between you and preserve the small, crumbling wall that still stood between you both.
“A sexy, naked alien woman came to earth and basically prophesied our demise, darling. If there was ever a time to ‘change everything’ and lay it all on the line, I think it’s now,”
Your heart wanted to hang onto the word darling, but your brain was too stuck on the ‘sexy, naked alien woman’ part of his sentence. The sigh that escaped you was instantaneous, as well as the frown, as you shot the blonde man a pointed look.
“Sexy, naked alien woman, Johnny? Seriously?”
“Come on! She was–objectively–attractive. You can’t deny that!”
It was your turn to scoff, tearing your hands from his in a heartbeat, before spinning on your heel. You felt like an idiot–on the precipice of finally confessing your deepest, darkest secret you’d kept locked away for years, and this is what you got.
“I try to be serious with you, Johnny, and you turn it into a joke once again-”
You didn’t get far from him. A hand enveloped your upper arm mid sentence, tugging and spinning your back around. A gasp fell from your lips as you collided with the chest of the man before you.
Whatever you were going to say never saw the light of day. Not when Johnny Storm gripped at your hips, tugged you as impossibly close as he could, and finally–finally–kissed you.
The kiss you’d dreamed about for four years, finally yours.
Johnny’s lips were soft as they slanted against your own, enveloping you in his warmth. They moved against you in a steady rhythm, passionate but still gentle, still testing the waters of the line you had never crossed before.
His hands curled into the fabric of the t-shirt clinging to your body, pushing it up just enough so that his hands could dip underneath. Your breath caught, even as his lips continued to move against yours, as his heated skin made contact with yours, and any part of your brain begging you to stop this was silenced as you melted into him.
Hands landed on his broad chest, gripping the fabric as you let him mold your body to his, the scent of his bodywash enveloping you as your body almost became one with him. In the pits of your stomach, as those heated hands trailed up your waist and ghosted over your ribcage, another flurry of butterflies erupted as a moan slipped past your lips, swallowed by his mouth.
A moan left Johnny’s lips at the sound of your own, one hand leaving your waist to curl around the back of your neck. Those slender fingers buried themselves into your hair, gripping just enough to have another groan of pleasure tumbling from your lips, as he guided your mouth against his own.
“You can’t keep making little noises like that,” his mouth barely left yours as he spoke, lips moving against yours, as he dove back in for another kiss the second he was done speaking.
“Your fault,” was all you could manage out, trying to back away just enough to speak, but Johnny never let your lips go far. Your hands glided up his chest, his neck, curling into his short hair as your thumb crested the ridge of his ear. “I’m trying to be mad at you.”
“Be mad at me later,” was his immediate response, his lips leaving yours just to find their place along your jawline and slide down into the hollow of your neck. His tongue danced its way across your skin, leaving tingles of electricity everywhere he touched you, his words murmured into your neck as he buried himself there. “I’m trying to kiss you.”
There was some part of you that wanted to protest him–over what, you weren’t even sure at this point–but you couldn’t. Not when his teeth dug just so into the side of your neck, leaving his mark on your skin as if he was claiming you as his.
You were always his.
“You c-called–oh god–you called the alien sexy while I was trying to confess,” you just barely managed to get the words out through your moans. Johnny was slowly walking you backward, straight in the direction of his bed while his lips never left the side of your neck, leaving his mark on every inch of skin he could see.
Your foot caught on the raised edge of the platform his seating area sat on, your feet stumbling backward. Johnny was there–he was always there–and tugged you back into him. And god, if you loved those blue eyes before, you loved them even more now: pupils blown wide, Johnny Storm looked about as wrecked as you felt.
“Your confession was four years late, and I’m impatient,” he stole another kiss from you, his teeth sinking just barely into your bottom lip, tugging gently. He let go, pressing a messy kiss to your lips to soothe the pain of his bite, words fanning out over your lips. “I’ve been trying to tell you I’m in love with you for four years now, so please just shut up and let me show you instead. Now–jump.”
At this point, you’d do just about anything he asked of you.
Johnny caught you with ease, both of his hands splayed out across the bare skin of your thighs, locking your legs around his hips. A choked moan fell from your lips the second your core was dragged against the painfully hard length bulging against his own pants, hands curling into his hair as you, this time, desperately pulled him into a kiss.
I’m in love with you. Those words repeated like a mantra in your head. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, the world’s fire boy and hero that they painted like a sex symbol. The ‘playboy’ with a new girl all the time, never able to hold down a girl…was in love with you.
Your back hit the bed, body bouncing just slightly before settling. His eyes never left you as you crawled back just slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up at him in the dark of the room, lit only by sky and the lamp by the door. The music played faintly in the background, but at this moment, it meant nothing to you.
Johnny’s hands gently touched your knees from where they dangled off the edge of the bed, parting them just so in order to step between them. You watched, entranced by every move he made, body flushed from the heat that coursed through your bare skin at the slightest of touches from him. With a practiced ease, his hand took hold of the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head without hesitation. It found a place to lay somewhere across the room, discarded until the following morning.
It was impossible not to stare. His broad chest, those biceps that always threatened to bulge out of every shirt he wore. His toned abdomen and the trail of hair that led straight to the waistband of his pants, the outline of him still prevalent and straining against the fabric.
“I need to know that you’re sure…about this,” you weren’t used to it, the vulnerability in Johnny’s tone. He leaned over you now, hands splayed across the bed on either side of you, barely a few inches from your face. Those blue eyes flickered down to your lips time and time again. “Because if I kiss you again, I’m not stopping until you’re mine.”
There was no hesitation on your part. Just a single movement of your arms, tossing the old shirt hanging from your upper body across the room to join his. As simple as that, you sat bare before him, chest heaving with every deep breath you took in.
“I was already yours. I always have been,” there was only certainty in your tone as you held his gaze. “Speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak…that’s why I came to you. Because if this is the end of the world, I needed you to know that I love-”
He didn’t let you finish your words. His next kiss was anything but gentle.
Messy, spit coating your lips as Johnny’s tongue seemed to invade your mouth and every one of your senses, his lips devoured yours as if you were his first meal in decades. He kissed with the hunger of a starved man, his hands grasping at every part of your skin they could–your waist, your hip, before finally your ass. The squeeze he gave to your skin, the uptick in heat you felt as if he was burning himself just slightly hotter on purpose, had another moan tumbling from your lips and into his mouth.
The hand still gripping your ass tugged you upward on the bed until your head fell against the silk pillows at the headboard. Your hands never left Johnny’s hair, carding through the strands as you frantically kissed him back, addicted to the feeling, as his hips ground into yours. That bulge in his pants pressed heavenly into your core, the friction rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you let your head fall to the pillows with a moan.
Johnny’s lips were everywhere. From your jawline, to your neck, until they finally reached your collarbone. He lavished you with his lips, tongue running over your skin as his hands trailed up the sides of your lower abdomen, stopping just as they reached the swell of your breasts.
“Since the day you walked in, I’ve thought about this,” his voice was raspy, the words barely understood as they were spoken against your skin. “Since the moment Reed introduced you to us.”
“I-I was wearing a lab coat,” you choked on your words as Johnny’s lips reached your sternum, trailing kissing down your chest, but never where you wanted him. “Hardly sexy, I’d argue.”
“It is when I’m picturing you in that coat and your heels, and nothing else,” he tacked on, before his lips wrapped around your nipple without warning.
You mewled at the sudden contact, one hand returning to his hair on instinct as your back arched off the bed and into him. Johnny’s hand on your abdomen was quick to push you back down, holding you down against the bedding beneath you.
God, with the fire that felt like it was burning through your body, you could’ve sworn that Johnny had caught you on fire. His teeth just barely grazed the sensitive bud in his mouth, a sharp intake of breath leaving your lips on instinct. He was quick to soothe you, tongue swirling around the erect and sensitive bud with rapt attention. A moan slipped through him, felt through your entire body, as your other hand tore into the bedding. Desperate for something to hold onto. Something to ground you in your pleasure.
“I’ve dreamed about you under me. Kissing you, tasting you, loving you,” his practically purred out every single word, tongue flicking back and forth over your sensitive nipple. He moved to the other one easily, delivering the same rapt attention to it.
“I’ve thought about you, too,” you relented, divulging every secret you held dear to the man who lavished every inch of you in love and adoration. “In the kitchen, the lab, in that stupid button up from earlier-”
“I knew you liked that shirt. Wore it just for you,” his husky tone sent another shot of pleasure through you, heat curling through every inch of your body.
The tips of his fingers trailed lightly down your stomach. When Johnny’s head lifted for just a moment to lock his eyes with yours, that familiar smirk on his face, you weren’t given a second to react before heat poured through his touch.
Gasps mixed with moans of pleasure fell from your lips on instinct, that unnatural heat of his pouring through his touch and into your skin. Every movement of his fingers over your ribcage and down your abdomen felt as if it was leaving your skin on fire, branding his touch into your skin so that you would never forget the feeling. Burning him into your memory so that you would always feel the phantom sensations of his touch on your skin.
“You’re absolute perfection, you always have been,” Johnny moaned into your skin, lips trailing over the mounds of your breasts with another series of a thousand kisses. Those heated fingers dipped past the waistband of your shorts, pressing directly against your clothed clit without a warning. The moan you let escape mixed in the air with the moan that tumbled from Johnny’s lips against your skin. “Jesus Christ, baby, you’re so soaked.”
The heat was still there in his fingers, setting off every little nerve ending in you even through the soaked fabric of your panties that you desperately wanted gone. Your hips ground up into his hand, whimpers falling from your lips as you chased after the feeling of him, desperate for friction.
“All for you,” even this hint of pleasure had you stumbling toward the edge, babbling almost incoherently. With a tug to his hair, you were quick to bring Johnny’s lips back to yours, arms wound around his neck. He gave into your needs immediately, devouring you in a kiss as heated as his touch was, fingers rubbing slow circles over where you needed him so desperately. “Please–Johnny, please! Please, I need you. Need you–need you so bad.”
“I got you, baby. I got you. Keep moaning my name like that, and I’ll give you the world”
Those whispered words stayed on your lips, lingering, as Johnny left you. His touch wasn’t gone long. Fingers curling into your shorts, they were discarded across the room in a flash, panties gone with them as well.
For the first time, you laid completely bare in front of the man you loved–the man you denied loving for so long. And Johnny Storm was a mess. His hair stuck up in multiple directions, skin flushed, but he was still beautiful. The most beautiful man you’d ever met, inside and out.
Johnny didn’t give you a second to truly breathe once he was done admiring you. He sprawled out along the end of the bed, head dipping between your thighs, as he licked a single stripe with his flattened tongue directly up your center.
“Fucking beautiful, and all mine,” his words were growled into your core, two fingers lazily moving between your folds and spreading every ounce of wetness around, holding you open so he could see every inch of you. “Sweeter than I ever dreamed you could be.”
He dove into you like you were the only thing that mattered. Fingers spreading you open, giving him access to every square inch, his mouth devoured you. A cool drink of water for a starving man in the middle of the desert. Johnny moved his tongue with precise expertise, as if he knew exactly what your body craved.
Delving into you, flicking back and forth as he drank in every secretion of arousal that dripped from you. That same tongue dragged its way up to your clit, swirling around in figure eights, flicking back and forth.
Cries fell from your lips wantonly, hands digging into his hair. Eyes fluttered shut, head tilted back to the ceiling, there was only one word you could repeat over and over again: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.
His name was all you knew anymore, too lost in your own bliss and pleasure.
In one fell swoop, your thighs were settled over his shoulders, before his head was back where you wanted it more than anything. His lips and tongue focused on your clit, still swirling back and forth, as his fingers dipped slightly lower, dancing right across your opening.
It started with one long, slender finger sliding into you. One of your hands was forced to leave Johnny’s hair, falling over your own mouth to try and conceal the cry that threatened to burst from you, afraid that the others would hear you.
“Let me hear you, baby,” he laughed against your core, his finger curling just perfectly against your walls as they clenched around him every time he dragged his finger back and forth. “Want to hear you.”
“Don’t want to–fucking hell, Johnny–let the others hear,”
“Let them. Let them hear me love you,”
Fuck Johnny Storm and his stupid lines. His stupid dirty talk that had your walls clenching around him again and again.
Another finger joined the first, followed by another, before you were stretched as wide as you could be around Johnny. The squelch of your juices rung through the air with every move of his fingers–dragging so deliciously into you, curling up, before dragging out just to the edge of your opening. His mouth–god, his mouth–never let up, lapping away at your core like it was his job, what he was meant to do.
That coil of pleasure deep within your lower body came out of nowhere, sneaking up on you just like your love for this man had.
“Johnny–baby–I can’t. I can’t–I’m gonna-”
“Let go, darling,” came that growl in his voice again, the speed of his fingers increasing. “I got you baby, let go.”
That coil snapped in seconds after he spoke. The precipice of your orgasm was earth-shattering, like you’d never felt before. Like trails of fire through your veins, the pleasure coursing through you had your head buried into the pillow behind your head, desperately trying to conceal the wails of pleasure that tumbled from your lips. Your thighs snapped shut around Johnny’s head, but his ministrations never let up as he eagerly drank up every bit of your arousal that leaked from you.
The come down was slow, like waking up. Your breath was uneven, heart beating erratically when you finally pulled your head from the pillow. Eyes bleary, it took a moment to blink them back to life.
Johnny stood at the edge of the bed, discarding his pants and boxers to the pile of clothing littering the other side of the room. And even in your fucked-out, blissful state, one look at him for the first time had that burning desire coursing back through your veins.
He was big. There was no way around it, no denying it, no other way to put it. Flushed, hanging with that beautiful reddened tip, one large and prominent vein throbbing along the edge of it. Beads of precum collected at the tip, his hand smearing it down along his length as he gave himself one single pump before he was crawling back onto the bed.
Johnny knelt between your legs again. Even with limbs that felt like Jell-O, you met him halfway, dragging yourself into a seated position. It was the smile on his face right now, the one erupting those butterflies once more, that you decided was your favorite: soft, adoring, loving.
It was your hands that cupped his cheeks, bringing him into a soft kiss. The taste of you lingered on his lips, sweet just like he said. You poured every ounce of emotion into your kiss, trying to convey to him the years you’d spent loving him so quietly that you couldn’t admit it.
“I might be addicted to you, Johnny Storm,” your words were mumbled into his lips. He laughed so gently, stealing another peck.
“Glad you finally caught up with me, princess, I’ve been addicted since day one,”
Pressed to him, his lips stealing a thousand pecks from yours, the lust in your bones was back in full force. All you could do was hum in response, one of your hands trailing down his chest, nails dragging slowly over his abdomen, before you finally took his throbbing cock in your hand.
He felt even bigger than he looked, which didn’t even make sense in your mind. But he was hot, the skin searing into your hand in the best way. You gave him one squeeze, one tug, and you smiled at the hitch in his breath. The twitch of his cock in your hold.
Johnny’s hand quickly grabbed yours, though, unlatching it from him. All you could do was shake your head, practically whining as you tried to take your hand back.
“Johnny-”
“God, it’s so hot how eager you are to touch me,” he laughed again, tilting his head to leave a single kiss to the column of your throat. “This is about you, doll. Save that for next time. It can be a ‘welcome home from space’ gift for me. A ‘thanks for saving the world’ gift, if you will.”
Space.
That word was enough to have your next words caught in your throat as the weight of everything came crashing back down on you. The threat, the herald, the space launch commencing in a matter of hours now, the events that brought you here in the first place.
You weren’t sure when you started crying, when a single tear slipped down your cheek, but Johnny caught it. Eyes full of concern, but understanding, he simply wiped the tears from your cheek, laying a kiss to the wet splotch of your skin.
“No crying, none of that. Just lay back, baby,”
You listened, letting his hands guide you gently to rest back against the pillows once more. Parting your legs, Johnny placed himself between them, holding himself up over your body on his forearms. Right where he belonged.
Your hands rested on his chest, sliding up so gently to his neck. His eyes never left yours, his length sitting right against your soaked and sensitive core, gliding back and forth with each gentle twitch of his hips.
“You didn’t let me say it earlier. So let me say it, for the first time outloud,” you gave him a watery smile, lips quivering as you looked up at him. “I love you, Johnny Storm. I’ve loved you for so long. I’m sorry it took the world maybe ending for this, that I didn’t let myself be yours sooner.
He smiled, that same charming smile he always did, as he rolled his hips once more. His cock caught just along the edge of your opening as Johnny dipped down, breath fanning over your lips.
“Like you said: you’ve always been mine,”
The first press of his length into your core stung. As wet as you were, as prepared as you were for him, it had been so long. He stretched your walls little by little, taking his time as your body adjusted to him. Then, inch by inch, he sunk within your walls that clung to him tightly.
His cock bottomed out, sunk fully within you, bare hips pressed to bare hips as you both let out shaky breaths. Your nails dug into the hair at the nape of his neck while his hands trailed up your ribcage, squeezing every moment or so as choked out moans fell from his lips.
“God–so tight for me, baby–you feel like heaven,”
His name was the only thing you could manage to choke out between your moans as he dragged himself back to the tip, before burying himself again to the hilt. Your moans, your cries and the way your hands threaded into his hair only spurred him on more, Johnny’s hips snapping into yours again and again and again.
His lips found yours amidst every snap of his hips, every drag of his cock against your walls. Every moan that slipped through your lips was drowned out by him, by the feverish movements of his lips against yours. They trailed away, back to your neck, leaving a trail of saliva connecting you together as he bit another love bite into the side of your neck. It didn’t matter to you how this would look to others, how scandalous you might look in the light of day to others.
All that mattered was Johnny Storm.
“Oh god, Johnny!” your head fell to his shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin as his hips snapped against yours over and over, driving him deeper with every thrust into you. “Holy fuck, w-why weren’t we doing this for years?”
“Because you’ve been a stubborn–fuck–little tease all these years,” his tongue dragged up the column of your throat, peppering kissing up and down your skin as his cock dragged against your walls. “Bent over your workstation in the lab–oh god–you don’t know how many times I’ve thought about it. Thought about walking in and taking you right there, making a mess right at your desk.”
“R-Reed would walk in and you’d scar him for life,”
“Sounds like a win-win to me,” there was shared laughter, punctuated with a shared moan as his cock dragged right against that spot nestled within you. “And try not to talk about my brother-in-law when I’m fucking you.”
There was no time to reply as Johnny scooped up your wrists in his hand in a single motion, pinning them down above your head. He adjusted your waist, suddenly driving into you at a new angle that had you mewling his name all over again.
Johnny whispered your name into your skin with every kiss, timed just so with every snap of his hips against yours. That coil of heat was burning, wounding itself tighter and tighter for the second time that night. All you could feel was him, was Johnny.
His warmth, the heat that burned off of him. It warmed your skin, it had beads of sweat dripping down your forehead. It was uncomfortable in the best way. His one hand still trailed up and down your ribcage, every so often tweaking your sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger and coaxing another moan of pleasure from you.
He worshiped you, every inch of you, like you were the greatest thing to ever grace the earth. To him, you might have been
“Fucking perfect, baby. Fucking made for me,” his lips found yours again, slick with spit as his tongue dipped into your mouth to taste every inch of you possible.
His stroke faltered, the rhythm uneven, and you knew he was close. That coil of heat in your stomach was threatening to snap any second every time his cock pulsed and throbbed within your walls. His grip on your wrists was tight, even as you struggled against him, desperate to just hold him.
“Johnny–baby–please I-I’m so close-”
You choked on your words once more, the hand still trailing across your stomach heating up again, leaving a burning trail of heat in your skin. Those heated fingers found your clit like it was second nature, a cry of pure pleasure leaving your lips as they circle that bundle of a thousand nerves over and over again, hips still snapping into you as quickly and desperately as they can.
“Let go,” his voice was husky, eyes blown wide as he looked down at you. Your wrists were finally let go, your hands immediately finding their place in the strands of his hair again as his free hand cups the back of your neck, smashing your lips into his in a flurry of moans. “Let go, baby, let go.”
Your second climax burned hotter than the first.
The pleasure burned so hot, so bright, you were practically sobbing, every cry and moan of pure bliss muffled by his kiss. Your legs locked around Johnny’s waist–tightly–so tight he could barely move away from you. It was overwhelming, the shockwaves of bliss that ran through your veins, the shaking of your thighs as you held onto his hair like it’s a lifeline.
He ground himself into you over and over, rhythm so far gone he was struggling. But all it took was your lips lazily finding his neck, teeth sinking in to leave your matching mark to his, for his hips to still as he spilt into you.
Johnny breathed out every moan into the side of your head, your name tumbling from his lips along with a flurry of swears. The grip he had on your hip was bruising, so tight you think he could snap the damn bone if he held any tighter. And his cock? Seated so deeply inside of you it’s as if you are one, heat pooled within your lower abdomen with every wave of cum that filled you to the brim.
On the other side of the room, the record was still playing softly. Bright lights still flashed by the windows every so often, crews still at work on the spaceship set for launch by mid-morning.
None of it mattered in the silence of the bed.
You aren’t sure how long either of you laid there. Your heartbeat, eventually, returned to normal, even as your chest still heaved to take in every breath that it could. Johnny still laid half on top of you, pressing repeated kisses to the side of your head, but said nothing. Your hand stayed in his hair, carding through it, as your core pulsed. It would ache come morning–hell, it already did–but it was worth it. It was so worth it.
Neither of you were quite sure when he pulled out of you, or how long you simply laid there and basked in the afterglow of a moment that should’ve happened years ago.
Eventually, Johnny shifted down. His lips trailed down your body in worship, like they’d done already that night. From your cheek, to your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, and down your lower abdomen.
“Careful…not sure I’d survive a round three,” your voice was hoarse, mouth dry. Johnny laughed against your skin, still kissing every inch he could see.
“I don’t think I would, either,”
His hands were heated once more, but not for the same purpose as moments before. Now, his touch was gentle, massaging every piece of you that he could get his hands on. His thumbs rubbed into your wrists, your waist, and your hips, digging into the muscles. A sigh escaped you at the comforting feeling, taut muscles loosening at the feeling of the heat and the movement of his hands.
With every kiss pressed to your skin, you could feel it: Johnny was humming. It didn’t take long to know which song he was humming, which lyrics: that same song once again.
I guess I'll never know the reason why, you love me as you do. That's the wonder, the wonder of you.
“Is that our song now?” you laughed, even if your heart was clenching at the mere thought. The mere idea of that song belonging to the two of you–the idea that Johnny Storm belonged to you.
You could feel his smile against your abdomen as he spoke. “It should be. It’s accurate. Because I don’t ever think I’ll get over the miracle that is you…loving me.”
It’s not a miracle. What you really want to tell him is that falling in love with him was so easy, you barely realized you had done it. It might be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.
Johnny crawled back up your body, slotting himself onto the bed beside you, before tugging you in. There’s no hesitation on your part, simply curling into his side with your head over his chest and arm slung around his waist. Words aren’t needed in the silence, not when you’ve both clearly laid everything out on the table now. Instead, you just listened to the beat of his heart, the natural rhythm that lulls you into a state of peacefulness.
He’s yours. Johnny Storm is yours. He’s always been yours, you just didn’t know it.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hand cradling the back of your head as he said his next words confidently.
“We’re going to go up there tomorrow, and we’re going to stop this guy. We’re going to protect this Earth, like we’ve sworn to do. But me? I’m going to do it so I can come home to you, and love you for the rest of my life. I promise,”
He can’t promise that, you knew he couldn’t. There was no telling what might happen when that ship took off tomorrow, what they might encounter, or who this Galactus really was.
But Johnny Storm loved you. For now, in the quiet of the night, just between the two of you, that’s enough.
Synopsis: Eddie is impulsive and touch-starved. You are shy and suffer from severe touching anxiety. You two are not meant to meet…BUT. You love tomato soup. Eddie does too. A fight for the last can ends up changing your life forever.
Where is it? Where is it?
Your shoes squeaked as you speed-walked down the narrow aisle in the convenience store, eyes scanning each shelf. Canned goods, canned goods, where—there. You spot it.
The last can of tomato soup.
You all but sprinted, your breath catching in a thrill of victory. Only a few more steps and it’d be yours. The red label glistened. Your hand reached forward—
Another hand touched it at the exact same time. You whipped your head to the side, your fingers tightening around the can. He was tall. Messy curls. Torn denim vest. Rings on his fingers. A smirk on his lips.
Eddie Munson.
You knew of him—most people in Hawkins did. He looked down at your hand on the can, then back at you.
“Well, well,” he said with a grin. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a standoff.” He mock-drew an imaginary pistol from his hip and clicked his tongue. “High noon, aisle three.”
You blinked at him. It didn’t make you laugh. Your grip tightened around the can.
He squinted theatrically, then leant in just slightly. “You look like a woman who takes her soup very seriously.”
“I do,” you confirmed a little too fast, too breathy. Panic flit in your chest like a moth. What’s gotten into you? Why are you talking? But more importantly, why is he still holding the can?
Eddie arched a quizzical brow at you. “Tomato soup. Excellent choice. Fit for the most delicate of palates.”
He wanted to sound funny. Maybe he was.
You weren’t sure what was funny anymore.
You tried to reach for the can once more, but he held it up. You gulped. Was this a fight? Were you seriously gonna fight over a can of tomato soup? You hadn’t fought anyone for anything since second grade—and that had only been a crayon. You had absolutely no combat training other than the occasional sales-attracted moms during price reductions periods…
“I just…” You glanced at the can, then back up at him, heartbeat starting to race. “I need it.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I see that. But see the problem here is…my hand was on it first.”
You didn’t want to abandon your precious. You unexpectedly grabbed the can, yanked it down and right out of his hands. He let go with a surprised chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. You cradled it against your chest, like it was a newborn baby and Eddie Munson was a raccoon who might try to take it away from you.
“Damn,” he exclaimed, tilting his head curiously. “You must really like soup.”
You gave a weak nod, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere behind his left shoulder. It was too much—his voice, the attention, the embarrassment heating your face like someone just lit a match behind your ears.
“I—I might have a problem.” You finally confessed.
He laughed—genuinely amused. “Right. Like…an addiction?”
You shrugged. He understood.
“I respect that. Tomato soup girl.” He stepped back with a theatrical bow. “I’ll let you have this one. Clearly—you need it more than me.”
You clutched the can tighter. “Thank you,” you mumbled.
He squinted again. “Didn’t catch that.”
“…Thank you,” you said louder, eyes finally flicking up to meet his.
Eddie laughed again. “Okay. You’re priceless. And I’m Eddie by the way. In case you were too focused on the soup to catch my name.”
He extended a hand. You didn’t take it. You only nodded slowly, unsure what to say, heart still thudding.
He backed away slowly with a wink and a lopsided grin. “Okay. I get it. No touching the soup girl. Welp. See you around.”
You watched him go. Then looked down at the can in your hands with a small smile.
Worth it.
…
A few days later
You shouldn’t have come to the store today.
But the craving hit again like it always did—warm, savory, nostalgic comfort in a can. Tomato soup wasn’t just a meal; it was a ritual. Something about it filled a space in you nothing else quite can. And you’d hoped, hoped, that today would be different. That he wouldn’t be here. That you’d just grab your can, pay, and disappear.
But fate has a sick sense of humor.
Because Eddie Munson was here again.
You spot him near the freezers. You ducked your head instinctively, pretending to study the side of a cereal box with the intensity of a nuclear physicist. Your fingers twitched around your basket and tried to reason with yourself. He’d probably forgotten about you.
Still, your entire body coiled tight like a spring. You kept your shoulders small, your steps quiet, movements cautious. You didn’t even go straight to the soup aisle. You stalled in baking goods. Pet food. Feminine hygiene. Anything to avoid—
“Hey there, Soup Girl.”
You froze. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. You turned slowly, every cell in your body screaming to bolt. But it was too late. He was already beside you, holding a pack of microwave pizza and giving you that signature crooked grin.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.” He rocked back on his heels. “I was beginning to think you only appeared when the soup shelf was down to its last breath. Like a sorta soup leprechaun.”
You tried to force a smile, but it landed somewhere between a wince and a grimace. “Hi.”
He tilted his head slightly, smile faltering as his eyes narrowed. The way you were hunched slightly, shoulders pulled in like you were trying to disappear. The way your eyes flicked around the store, always moving, never landing. The way you were holding your basket with both hands like it was a shield. You could feel him watching you. It made your stomach twist. Great. Someone else to take you for a freak…
But then, he did something unexpected.
“…You alright?” he asked—genuine concern in his voice.
You nodded automatically. “Yeah. Just—tired.”
He didn’t push. Just nodded slowly. “Yeah. Been there.”
You didn’t know what to say. He didn’t either, apparently, because for a second he just stood there. Why were you finding yourself in another awkward situation?
“I gotta be honest,” he finally spoke up, scratching the back of his neck, “I wasn’t expecting to meet someone as intense about tomato soup. I’ve been thinking about that can battle all week.”
Your mouth twitched and some inner demon forced you to speak up. “I won.”
He blinked and you did too. Why did you say that? What evil spirit possessed you to sound like a bratty kid who had just won a game of marbles?
You were about to apologise when Eddie gasped in mock betrayal—one hand landing dramatically over his heart. “You stole it. Robbed me blind in broad daylight. I should’ve called the police. But they’d probably take your side, huh?”
You nodded, letting your lips curl just a little. “I have soup immunity.” Okay. You really should stop talking now. Nobody wanted to talk about soup. Nobody cared about soup.
Eddie smiled again, and it was different this time. He seemed to be enjoying the conversation immensely.
“Hey,” he continued after a moment, “I was actually thinking…maybe next time, you and me split a can. I’ll bring the paprika, you bring the grilled cheese.”
You blinked. That was unexpected. But what happened next was even more unexpected. Your laugh escaped before you could stop it. It surprised you greatly, the sound. You weren’t supposed to laugh. Not here. Not now. But something about the offer—ridiculous and small and oddly kind—settled in your ribs like warmth from a stove. Eddie’s face lit up like he had just unlocked a secret level in a video game. But he didn’t lean in, didn’t crowd you.
Then, after a beat, he stepped back and winked. “I’ll be around. Same aisle. Just in case you’d want to…I dunno. Talk for a bit.”
You didn’t say anything. But you still smiled a little when he turned around to leave. It seemed like Eddie Munson had infected you somehow…
A few minutes later
You told him you wanted to apologise for the tomato soup incident. He insisted that there was no problem, but you were hella stubborn when your wanted to be…So he ended up accompanying you back home.
Once inside, you realised that he was incapable of staying still for more than a few minutes. He looked and touched everything. He ran his fingers over a chipped lamp, picked up a crooked pen, flipped through a half-finished notebook, like he was reading your life in fragments. He wanted to say something nice but…your place was a junkyard.
And he lived in a trailer.
He opened your cupboard and huffed a laugh.
Soup. Sooo much soup.
He took one out and smiled. He then realised that you had dated all of them with the exact day of purchase. If he was a freak, then you should be given the crown. He shook his head and then saw one on the counter…
Well well well. What do we have here? Why did that one deserve special treatment from her sisters? He looked at it and his eyes widened slightly when he saw that there was no date on that one. Just a name. His.
You returned at that moment with two glasses of juice and found him with the can you had purchased the day you both met. You opened your mouth to say something but, you then realized that there was nothing to justify. You just wanted to remember that day. There was no shame in it. You had made a friend. You wanted to remember that.
Eddie looked back at you and smiled.
“Hey, Soup Girl. Wanna share that one?”
Your blinked before smiling back.
Yeah. He knew…
…
The soup bowls were warm between your palms, radiating a comforting heat that curled around your fingers. You sat at opposite ends of the couch, a shared can split evenly, steam rising between you like a peace treaty. Eddie didn’t talk much at first. Neither did you. But it wasn’t awkward. Just…quiet. He seemed to belong here, in a strange way. Sprawled out on your old secondhand couch like it was made for him, legs wide, shoulders loose. His spoon clinked gently against the ceramic bowl every so often.
Then it happened.
You both reached for the salt at the same time.
Fingers brushed. Just for a second.
But your body betrayed you. A small, instinctive flinch—shoulders twitching back, breath catching in your throat like a hiccup. You hadn’t meant to react. It wasn’t even a bad touch. It wasn’t bad at all. That was the worst part. Eddie noticed immediately. His hand froze, then withdrew slowly, carefully, as if he were pulling it back from the edge of a cliff.
“…You good?”
You stared down into your soup for a second, your spoon barely moving. Your pulse thumped in your ears. You hated this part—the freeze, the fear, the way your mind tugged in two directions like a fraying rope.
You took a breath.
“I just…” you started, voice low. “I don’t like being touched.”
You braced yourself for something—a laugh, a joke, a change in his face. But Eddie didn’t do any of those things. He just blinked. Absorbed it. Then he smiled.
“Cool,” he commented simply, with a little nod. “Then I won’t touch you unless you say I can.”
A beat passed. Then another. And then, with the kind of grin that made you suspicious of its owner’s brain-to-mouth filter, he added, “But I will say—you’re missing out. I give a mean hug. Like, award-winning. I was robbed of a title once. Rigged competition. Big scandal. Whole town talked about it.”
You let out a breath that might’ve been the beginning of a laugh. Your lips curved, just barely. Not ready. Not fully. But something inside you warmed. Not just from the soup.
“Mm,” you hummed, spoon hovering over your bowl. “I’ll add that to the list of things I’ve missed out on.”
Eddie didn’t press. Didn’t scoot closer. Just smiled, as if your smile was something rare and he didn’t want to scare it off. You ate the rest of your soup in silence. But this time, it felt like sharing something. Even if it wasn’t a hug.
Not yet. Maybe someday.
“Hey,” Eddie said and snapped you out of your thoughts, suddenly rubbing the back of his neck. “Would it be…weird if I came back sometime? You know. Just to hang. Talk. Share soup and stuff.”
You blinked at him. The question was casual, but something behind it wasn’t. You felt it. That tiny fear of being too much. Or not enough.
You nodded with a smile. “Anytime.”
He grinned like you’d handed him the moon. What you didn’t expect was for ‘anytime’ to mean literally every night after that…By the third evening, you opened the door to find him holding two grocery bags like he was ready to pitch a tent and declare squatter’s rights, you just stared.
And accepted your fate.
You couldn’t possibly throw him out when the squatter in question was beaming at you and greeting you at the door with a: “Soup challenge night, baby.”
You blinked. “…Soup what now?”
Eddie pushed past you and plopped the bags on the counter. “I hit every grocery store in a ten-mile radius. We are ranking every soup flavour and brand I could find. This one’s organic. This one’s not. This one says ‘homestyle’ and I think that’s a trap.”
You looked at the cans in disbelief. “How many did you buy?”
He grinned at you. “Enough to question my life choices, not enough to regret them.”
You huffed a laugh despite yourself and began heating the first can. He handed you a notepad and four categories scrawled across the top in his messy, looping handwriting:
1. Vibe
2. Slurpability
3. Emotional Damage
4. Soup-to-Soul Ratio
You glanced at him sideways. “Emotional damage?”
He shrugged. “Some soups just hurt, man.”
And so began the nightly ritual. Each night, a new soup. A new score. A new round of Eddie’s ridiculous, heartfelt commentary (“This one tastes like getting stood up at prom but making friends with the janitor instead”), and your increasingly sarcastic but secretly delighted responses. It seemed he was rubbing off his confidence on you as you started being more and more comfortable around him. At first, he always sat on the opposite end of the couch. Always gave you space. But over time, the gap shrank by inches, then not at all. Still no touching. Never without permission. But the nearness wasn’t scary anymore. It was warm. Familiar.
Somewhere between can #8 and #12, you caught yourself laughing so hard you had to put the spoon down. You looked over and saw him watching you. And for the first time in a long time, you realized something:
You liked him. A lot. That man had just barged into your life unexpectedly and had little by little became a part of your daily life…
Even if he was Eddie Munson. Maybe especially because he was Eddie Munson…
…
It started as nothing.
Just a quick trip to the store. You and Eddie, as usual. He was still riding high off last night’s soup ranking—had made you watch him act out a dramatic Oscar speech for Best Supporting Broth. You’d laughed until your stomach hurt. You were now in the canned aisle again, when someone called out.
“Munson!”
Eddie turned, his arm brushing yours. A guy walked towards you—someone around your age, all smirk and swagger, holding a six-pack and dressed like he knew people would look. You didn’t recognize him, but the familiarity in his eyes when he looked at Eddie made your chest tighten.
“Didn’t know you got yourself a girlfriend, man,” the guy teased, eyeing you like you were part of the punchline. “She the reason you keep buying soup like it’s the apocalypse?”
You froze. Your palms began to sweat. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but it always betrayed you when it mattered most. Before you could answer—before Eddie could say a thing—the guy stepped forward and, in what he probably thought was good humor, slung an arm around your shoulders.
“What did you do to him, huh?” he said with a mock-pout before smirking. “What’s your secret, huh? Witchcraft? Now Eddie seems to be attached to your hip 24/7.”
It was like your whole body locked up. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Too close. Too sudden. Too much.
The air left your lungs. Then, just as quickly, the weight lifted. Eddie had peeled the guy’s arm off you without raising his voice, but with a grip that said he absolutely could. His body was suddenly between you and the other guy.
“Hey,” Eddie started, tone casual but steel-laced. “Let’s not touch people who didn’t ask to be touched, yeah?”
The guy blinked. Laughed like he wasn’t sure whether it was still a joke. “Relax, man. I was just kidding—”
“Yeah,” Eddie interrupted, smile gone. “She’s not laughing.”
Eddie didn’t look back at you, didn’t make a show of checking on you. He just held his ground. The guy backed off with a shrug, mumbling something about people being too sensitive these days, and wandered off.
Eddie turned then and looked at you. His expression was soft with concern. “You okay?”
You managed a nod.
He let out a small breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay. Good. Because that guy? He can bite it.”
You smiled faintly, trying to shake off the tremor in your chest.
“Sorry,” you muttered.
Eddie tilted his head, frowning like you’d just said something in another language. “What are you apologizing for? Being uncomfortable when someone touches you without permission? That’s not a you problem, Soup Girl.”
You looked at him and for the first time, you didn’t feel embarrassed for needing space.
Because he’d protected it.
Without turning it into a scene.
Without turning you into a victim.
Just…stood up for you. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Eddie gave a sheepish little shrug. “No one messes with my soup girl. Besides me.”
And somehow, that made you laugh again—small, breathy, real. The trip ended with him insisting you pick out two cans today. The car ride home was quiet. Not awkward. Just filled with that kind of electric silence that buzzed under the skin. And then, your mouth worked before your mind could truly process it.
“You can stay the night, if you want.”
You didn’t even look at him when you said it. Just gripped the wheel a little tighter and tried to pretend you hadn’t felt your own heart skip. You expected hesitation. A polite no. A joke, maybe. But instead—
“Yeah,” Eddie replied, like it was obvious. “I’d like that.”
He was trying to play it cool—but his knee kept bouncing, bobbing up and down with restless joy. His fingers drummed against his thigh in rhythm, and every few seconds he snuck a glance at you.
You didn’t look back. But you felt it.
One corner of your mouth curled.
It was ridiculous, really. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t a date. It was just…dinner and maybe a movie. But you could tell, by the way he bounced like a restless kid, that this meant something to him.
And, okay, maybe it meant something to you too.
…
By the time you pulled up to your place, Eddie had tried to tone it down, smoothing his palms over his jeans and muttering to himself under his breath like he was giving himself a pep talk. You unlocked the door and he followed you in, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes immediately darting around like he was trying to take mental pictures of everything again. Like your weird soup-stocked home had become his favorite museum exhibit.
“You sure you’re cool with this? Like—me crashing here? I don’t snore, but I do occasionally sleep-talk about dragons. Fair warning.”
You raised a brow. “You sleep-talk?”
He chuckled awkwardly. “Only the important stuff. Soup recipes. Black Sabbath lyrics. Once I did a monologue from The Lord of the Rings in my sleep. My uncle taped it. He was disturbed.”
You snorted. “I’ve survived worse.”
He smiled—wide, a little crooked, a little stunned. “I can sleep on the couch. It looks amazing. Real comfy.”
You hesitated for half a beat as you looked at the couch which would obviously be too small for him to be truly comfortable. “You can sleep in my room if you want.”
Eddie blinked. “Wait. I get your room?”
You shrugged. “We can share. You’ve been nothing but respectful. I trust you.”
You went to grab extra blankets, and he wandered into your room like it was holy ground, careful not to touch anything for more than a second. He sat on the edge of your bed like it was made of glass. Then, a moment later, he flopped back with a groan and mumbled toward the ceiling:
“Sleeping at Soup Girl’s house. In her bed. With her.” He smiled. “Metal.”
A few minutes later
You hadn’t meant to walk in like that. You were just bringing him extra blankets and a spare shirt—something soft and oversized from the back of your drawer. But as you stepped in and looked up—
You stopped.
Eddie was standing near the bed, shirtless, backlit by the low glow of your bedside lamp. The room felt impossibly small, and he felt impossibly present in it. His skin was pale, scattered with freckles and ink, tattoos sprawled across his chest and arms. There was a mess of scribbles—flames, skulls, various creatures and a tiny dice—and lines of script you couldn’t read from here. His jeans rode low on his hips, exposing the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband.
Your breath caught.
You slapped a hand over your eyes on instinct. “Oh—shit. Sorry, I didn’t—”
Your voice died. Because his hand gently reached for yours. Eddie didn’t pull. He didn’t force. Just touched, asked, wordlessly, with the pads of his fingers against your knuckles. Light. Careful. You didn’t back away and slowly he removed your hand from your eyes. He was giving you permission to look. After a moment, you did. Your eyes danced over his chest and you held back a gasp. He knew that you were admiring. He could see it in your eyes. That small spark of light. He slowly interlaced his fingers with yours, and your breath hitched. Then, without a word, he lifted your joined hands—guiding yours to rest against his bare chest.
You felt the heat of him. The rhythm beneath your palm. A steady heartbeat. Real. Alive. And even then, he didn’t speak. He just covered your trembling hand with his own— anchoring, comforting—and let you stay there. Let you choose. You stared at the tattoos on his chest instead of his eyes. Your lashes fluttered, your breath uneven. His ink looked like stories carved into skin. There was so much of him. Too much. Too close. And yet—
You weren’t afraid of him. His thumb brushed yours gently. He did not urge you. If you wanted more, you could. If you didn’t, same thing really. He was already enjoying your curious gaze on him. It was like trying to reassure a timid fawn on the side of the road to come along. And then, he leaned forward. Close enough to press the lightest kiss against your cheek.
You stiffened. Froze. But you still didn’t pull away.
Eddie chuckled, voice soft and warm near your ear. “Hey. It’s okay,” he murmured, his lips just barely brushing your skin. “I promise I’m not gonna bite. Aaaand I got all my shots. Swear.”
You laughed. A shaky, breathy sound. You weren’t ready for more. And he didn’t ask for it. But you stayed. Hand to his heart. His hand over yours. Two people standing in the quiet, in the soft glow of lamp light, in a room that was starting to feel a little less yours, and a little more like both of yours.
…
An hour later…
Your back was to him. His was half-turned, one arm under the pillow, the other curled up near his chest. The tension of earlier had faded, replaced by something sleepier. Softer. Like exhaling after a long, hard day.
You thought he might’ve fallen asleep.
Until you heard his voice.
“…Y’know, I’ve never actually done this before.”
You blinked at the ceiling. “Done what?”
He hesitated. You could almost feel the sheepish grin before he said it. “A sleepover. With a girl.”
You smiled into your pillow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously seriously.” He shifted a little. “Like, not the kind where there’s kissing and making out and then everyone leaves before breakfast. I mean…this.”
You turned slightly, just enough to peek over your shoulder. He was staring up at the ceiling now, hair a messy halo, one leg half-kicked free from the blanket.
“I never stayed,” he murmured. “And no one ever asked me to.”
You swallowed. Something about that hit deeper than you expected. “You can stay as long as you want. I already made it clear that I do not mind your presence. You are like my…forever guest.”
He turned his head just enough to look at you. You couldn’t see much in the dark—just the shape of him, the curve of his nose, the glint of his eye. But you felt the weight of his gaze.
“Yeah,” he whispered with a smile. “Guess I am.”
Neither of you spoke for a moment.
Then his voice again, a little quieter. “Thanks. For letting me stay.”
Your voice cracked a little, soft with sincerity. “Thanks for staying.”
He smiled. And after a moment, he asked, “Can I like…scoot a little closer?”
You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
So he did. Just enough for his knee to lightly bump yours beneath the blanket. He didn’t reach for you. Didn’t try to make it more.
But you felt it. That warmth again. That silent comfort. And in the hush of the night, you fell asleep next to Eddie Munson—feeling, for once, like maybe letting someone in wouldn’t be so bad.
In the morning
You blinked a few times when the sun hit your eyes. The room was still. And then you noticed it. Eddie’s breathing. Slow. Even. Close. You turned your head and found him lying on his side, facing you. His mouth slightly open, lashes dark against his cheekbones, curls tangled over his forehead. One hand had snuck out from the blanket and rested near yours, close but not quite touching—like he’d reached out in his sleep, then stopped just short.
You didn’t want to move. But you must’ve shifted, because a moment later his nose twitched. His brow furrowed just a little—scrunching like he was confused about waking up. And then, his eyes cracked open.
Sleepy. Brown. Soft. Chocolate buttons…
“…Hey,” he rasped, voice low and hoarse with sleep. “Still here.”
You smiled, voice barely above a whisper as you replied. “I noticed.”
He gave a sleepy grin, slow and genuine, then stretched one arm above his head with a dramatic groan before flopping back down, half on his face. His curls puffed against the pillow.
“Your bed’s cursed,” he muttered. “Too cozy. I’ll never leave.”
You laughed quietly. He peeked at you again, through the tangle of his hair.
“…This okay?” he asked. And he meant the moment. The space. The proximity. The fact that you hadn’t woken him up and shoved him out the door the second the sun rose.
You nodded, feeling something soft unfurl in your chest. “Yeah. It’s okay.”
He exhaled like he’d been holding something in. Then rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling with a small smile. “I dreamed I turned into soup and you ate me. Spoon by spoon. Before giving me a D for lack of flavour.”
You blinked and laughed. “That tracks.”
His own mouth twitched into a smile. “You’re brutal in dreamland.”
You both lay in silence for a beat. And then, his voice again—warm, content, a little amused. “…Hey. You want me to do breakfast? I make amazing scrambled eggs.”
You smiled and nodded. He looked at you and answered you with a smile. His hand lifted…as if to touch your cheek. But he stopped himself and coughed before quickly getting out of bed. He then walked to the kitchen and looked at what he could cook without making a mess. He did not see the way you looked at him from behind and smiled…a smile that anyone would recognise. It was the kind of smile you gave when your eyes settled on the object of an affection deep and true.
He stood up with a couple of eggs in his hand and started making scrambled eggs. However, he cursed when he saw what time it was. He then turned around to tell you that he had band practice today and that he needed to leave—but that he would be back tonight.
Your eyes did hold a certain disappointment, but you quickly chased it away. You smiled again. “Sure. Have a great time.”
He nodded and quickly got dressed before leaving in a hurry. You then looked at the scrambled eggs and took a bite.
Not the most amazing scrambled eggs.
But still…pretty good.
That night
You’d made dinner. Well—tried to. It was mostly assembled stuff. Things that didn’t require too much time or effort. Pasta, some garlic bread, the good kind of cheap soda in glass bottles. You’d even set the table.
You weren’t sure why.
Maybe it was the new normal. Eddie coming over. Talking. Laughing. Ranking soup like wine snobs. Sleeping over. Waking up beside him and pretending it wasn’t the highlight of your week…You knew he would come back eventually.
You just didn’t expect later to be…this late.
The food had gone cold. You’d reheated it once. Then again. Eventually, you stopped checking the clock and just sat on the couch in your hoodie, legs tucked beneath you, trying not to admit you felt a little foolish.
And then the door opened.
You looked up just as Eddie stumbled in, wind-chilled and glowing from the rush of post-practice adrenaline. His eyes spotted the two plates and he smiled. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.”
He said it so easily. So casually. And in the same breath, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. It was fast. Barely there. But it hit like a live wire. Your body didn’t move. But your brain? Fireworks. Sirens. Screaming goats. Something internally short-circuited.
Sweetheart. He said sweetheart.
He kissed you. On the cheek.
Which, yes, was technically innocent. A blip. But it was still something. Your throat tightened. You nodded stiffly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your entire soul had flinched. But Eddie wasn’t dense.
He stepped back slightly, his brow furrowing. “…Everything okay?”
You forced a smile. “Yeah. Just—tired.”
“Hmm.” His gaze searched your face for a beat longer, then softened. “I mean it, though. I’m really sorry. Practice ran long, and Gareth broke a string, and then we had to run back to get his amp because apparently some people forget half their gear when they’re in love with their own solos…” He trailed off, realizing you hadn’t really responded. So he changed tactics. “…Is that garlic bread?”
You nodded, still frozen.
“Jesus H. Christ, you’re a saint.” He gave a little bow of reverence, then sat down opposite you. You sat there. Still warm from where his lips touched your cheek. Still trembling from the word sweetheart. You had no idea what this meant.
But you knew it meant something.
You then both ate in silence…
…
You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, watching Eddie fuss with the blankets on the bed like he was trying to win a wrestling match against them.
You smiled—tired but genuine.
He looked up and caught your gaze. His hair was a mess, his band tee crooked from where he’d peeled off his jean jacket, and one sock was hanging halfway off his foot. And yet, he looked completely at home.
Which was…becoming a problem.
Because you couldn’t tell if this was just Eddie being Eddie—or if you were slowly falling off a cliff you weren’t ready to name. You lingered in the doorway for a second longer before getting under the blankets as well. Then, as lightly as you could muster you whispered: “Goodnight…darling.”
You turned to sleep. And he spun. A full, dramatic 180, like someone had slapped him with a metal album and told him to pay attention.
“What did you just call me?” he asked, voice halfway between scandalized and stunned.
You blinked. “I said goodnight.”
He squinted and scooted closer. “No, no, no, no. You definitely added a little spice at the end of that sentence.”
You shrugged, heat creeping up your neck. “I was just…being polite?”
“Oh no,” he said, now grinning. “You hit me with the d-word. That’s a loaded word. That’s old Hollywood. That’s flirtier-than-soup flirt, and you know it.”
You scoffed, trying to retreat. “I was being subtle.”
He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, it was subtle, alright. Like being hit with a brick or by a car. You can’t just casually call a man darling and then go to sleep. That’s not how things work. You can’t just do that to me.”
“Why not?” you challenged.
“Because,” he said, breaching into your personal space—“now I have to wonder what happens if I call you sweetheart again.”
Silence. Thick. Electric.
You both froze.
So…that was on purpose? The casual ‘sweetheart’. He knew what he was doing calling you that.
His voice softened. “You okay with me…calling you that, right?”
You swallowed. Then nodded. Slowly. He smiled. “Then I’m definitely not stopping. And I mean…if you want to keep calling me darling. Please. Do.”
He tried to reach for your hand, but you retreated. You couldn’t handle much more right now. He backed up, hands raised. “Okay. Message received. I will…keep to myself. Goodnight, sweetheart.”
He then decided to leave the bed and go to the couch. He understood the need for space.
You hid your face in your hands.
You were so screwed.
…
In the morning
You woke up to warmth. A lot of it.
And pressure. And…tangled limbs?
For a brief moment, your sleep-fogged brain tried to make sense of the situation. You could barely move. Something was wrapped around your waist. One of your legs wasn’t where you left it. And there was a knee suspiciously close to your ribs.
Then you blinked your eyes open.
Eddie. Asleep.
Practically wrapped around you like an overgrown, snoring octopus.
One arm thrown across your stomach, the other trapped under your neck like a pillow he’d claimed in the middle of the night. One leg hooked around yours. And his face—sweet God—his face was pressed into your shoulder, lips slightly parted as he breathed against your skin, dark curls everywhere.
Your first instinct? Panic.
You didn’t do this. This wasn’t normal. You weren’t even sure how it happened—he was on the couch last night. Right? You stared at the ceiling in stunned silence for a moment. Carefully, you moved your fingers.
“…Eddie?”
His grip tightened. You blinked again. He mumbled something. Then nuzzled closer. You felt his breath brush your collarbone and had to force yourself not to make a sound. It was terrifyingly sweet. Intimate. And so unexpected it made your brain short-circuit.
“…Eddie,” you tried again, a little firmer.
His eyes cracked open slowly, heavy with sleep. He looked at you, confused. Then down. Then back at you.
“…Shit.”
You both froze.
He didn’t move—just groaned into the pillow. “I swear I started on the couch.”
“I believe you,” you reassured him quickly.
“I have a history of unconscious bed invasion,” he mumbled. “Wayne’s been trying to cure me of it for years. Same with the sleep-talking. But he never found a solution.”
You laughed, half-nervous, half…surprised. Because this was new. But not scary. Not wrong. Not unwelcome.
He lifted his head, hair a complete mess. “Are you okay?”
You hesitated—then nodded. “Yeah. Just…surprised.”
He smiled sheepishly and began the slow, delicate process of detangling himself from you. “I can go back to the couch.”
You caught his arm gently. “You don’t have to.”
His eyes flicked to you.
You added, under your breath, “But maybe…fewer limbs.”
He grinned. “No promises.”
And when he settled back beside you—this time with a little more intentional space—you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.
Invaded? Maybe.
But it was the nicest invasion you’d ever known.
…
A few weeks later
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. You and Eddie were nestled under the blankets, the steady rhythm of his breathing next to you grounding every flutter in your chest. He reached out, fingers brushing your cheek gently, and leaned in, just like always—aiming for that familiar, safe spot on your cheek.
But this time, your head turned instinctively.
The moment your lips met, time did a little somersault.
Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, wide and a little startled, but there was something else in his gaze. You froze, cheeks flushed, heart thundering louder than a drumline.
He whispered, barely audible, “Well…didn’t see that coming.”
You laughed nervously, your voice barely above a breath, “Neither did I.”
But when he shifted closer, resting his forehead against yours, all the awkwardness melted away.
…
It didn’t happen all at once.
First, it was little things—his jacket over your chair, his band tee in your laundry, the scent of his shampoo faintly clinging to your pillow. Then came the louder signs: his boots by the door, his guitar leaning against the wall, that half-used can of hairspray in your bathroom that somehow multiplied instead of ran out.
You didn’t ask him to move in.
He just…kept showing up. More and more.
Until one day, he never really left. He invaded your space like a slow sunrise. Not with a bang, but with a steady warmth that filled all the cold corners. He made your mornings louder. Your evenings dumber. Your nights safer. He’d play riffs in the kitchen while you stirred soup. He’d leave scribbled “rate my performance” notes next to your toothbrush after humming into your hair while you brushed. He’d fall asleep tangled in your blanket, one sock missing, a comic book open on his chest.
And you—who once tiptoed through the world like a whisper—found yourself laughing in full volume now. The place still looked like a junkyard. But now it looked like your junkyard—to the both of you. And one quiet afternoon, while you folded laundry and he laid on the couch tossing a pillow at the ceiling like it was a game, he murmured without looking at you:
“I think I live here now.”
You didn’t even pause. “Yeah. I noticed.”
He finally looked at you—crooked smile and all. “You good with that?”
You smiled. Soft, sure. “I’ve never been better.”
He stood up and before you could comprehend what was going on, you were spun in the air. You screamed and laughed as Eddie kept spinning you around and laughing with you.
Nothing seemed wrong anymore. Only right.
…
A few days later
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet for a night Eddie was supposed to come back humming with leftover stage energy and smelling like smoke and adrenaline. You’d been waiting—half-worried, half-knowing. And when the door finally creaked open well past midnight, you didn’t need to ask. One look at him, at the slumped shoulders and uncharacteristic silence, told you everything.
He didn’t say a word. Just muttered something about being tired and disappeared into the bedroom.
You gave him space. For twenty minutes.
Then you grabbed the emergency cereal box—the one with the ridiculous cartoon mascot and way too much sugar—and crept quietly into the room. He was cocooned in your blankets, his hair a mess over your pillow, one leg sticking out like he’d given up halfway through sulking. You didn’t say anything. Just lifted the blankets and began to worm your way in beside him, dragging the box with you like it was a peace offering.
Eddie cracked one eye open. “…Is that the good kind?”
You nodded solemnly. “The forbidden marshmallow kind.”
He huffed, a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was something. You settled beside him, balancing the box between you both. You didn’t ask about the show. He didn’t offer. You believed he would tell you on his own eventually. You let the silence do the comforting, broken only by the soft crunch of cereal and the rustle of blankets. At one point, his shoulder brushed yours and this time—you didn’t flinch.
Eventually, he did tell you.
“…It was a stupid gig,” he finally muttered, still not looking at you. “Crowd was dead. Half the mics didn’t work. Gareth broke a string. Again. Some asshole yelled ‘Freebird.’”
You nodded solemnly, chewing beside him. “A classic tragedy.”
“Not even the good kind,” he grumbled. “Like, at least let me go down in a blaze of glory, not…defeat by shitty performance.”
You leaned your head against his shoulder, gently.
“Well,” you said thoughtfully, “if it makes you feel better, most geniuses were misunderstood.”
He snorted, finally turning a little to glance at you—hair in his face, eyes tired, but the faintest tug of a smile playing at his lips.
“…Thanks, sweetheart.”
You held the box out to him again. “Cereal is love. Cereal is life.”
He grabbed another handful and sighed, letting his forehead knock lightly against yours. “I’m keeping you.”
You restrained a laugh. “A) I am the owner. B) You live here.”
He smiled. “Doesn’t make me keeping you any less true.”
You didn’t say anything after that. You didn’t need to. You just lay there, munching cereal in the quiet, sharing the warmth, letting him feel safe and seen again.
Bad show or not—he’d still end the night in bed, with you.
A month later
He didn’t know you were coming.
He was mid-rant backstage—about how the lighting sucked, and Jeff’s drum sticks had disappeared, and he couldn’t find his pick (it was in his pocket, it’s always in his pocket). He was anxious in that way he got before every gig, pacing and twitchy and talking too fast.
And then they called Corroded Coffin up.
He stomped on stage, full of bluster and sarcasm and eyeliner—like always. Grabbed the mic. Looked out at the crowd. Ready to put on a show for a room full of strangers who might or might not care.
And then he saw you.
Front row.
Wearing one of his band’s old t-shirts, one he didn’t even know you had. You didn’t wave. You didn’t shout. You just smiled—big, warm, eyes lit up like you were proud of him before he even strummed the first chord. He froze for half a second. Long enough for Gareth to glance sideways, confused. Long enough for Eddie’s heart to skip a full beat and crash land in his chest. You’d come. On your own. You didn’t have to. He hadn’t even offered you to come—knowing how you hated big crowds.
But you were still there. His Soup Girl.
For him.
He tried to recover quickly—cleared his throat and leaned into the mic, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“This one…” he said, voice a little rough, “is dedicated to someone in the front row who snuck in like a ninja and didn’t even tell me she had bought a ticket to one of our shows.”
You saw his eyes flicked to yours again. A flash of teeth in his smile. That little, stupid, boyish tilt of his head.
“This is for my Soup Girl. My sweetheart. She knows who she is.”
The crowd whooped like they knew a love story when they saw one. And as the first notes rang out, you watched Eddie light up the stage—loud and alive and utterly himself. But every time he looked your way, he played just a little harder. Smiled just a little wider. And when the show ended and he leapt off the stage straight into your arms, sweat-damp and breathless, he didn’t even wait before whispering in your ear:
“You came.”
You nodded, still smiling, and whispered back, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then buried his face in your neck like he’d explode otherwise. He never said it out loud—not that night, anyway—but that moment? That was the one where he realized something important.
He was gone for you. Completely. And so were you…
…
Later that night
“So…soup for dinner?”
The question had been casual—almost a reflex, the way he asked it. One hand on the wheel, the other draped over the gearstick, humming along to some half-forgotten tune on the radio as golden light spilled in through the windows.
You looked at him and smiled. “Not tonight.”
He blinked, then glanced over in full. “Wait—what?”
You nodded. “Tonight you get to choose.”
There was a beat of silence. The car kept moving, but Eddie had stopped. Not literally, but in that way people do when something settles too deep to ignore. He glanced at you. And something in his eyes changed. His smirk didn’t come, no teasing, no gasp of pure disbelief. Just…that expression. Like you’d slipped a hand inside his chest and placed something solid where he’d only had static before.
“You sure?” he asked quietly. “We might be violating some soup treaty.”
You smiled again. “I trust you.”
That was it. Just three words.
But it did something to him. He didn’t say much after that. Just nodded slowly and looked back at the road. You didn’t need to look at him to know. You felt it—the way his fingers tapped the wheel like they were holding in something big. The way he glanced at you again when he thought you weren’t looking. Like he couldn’t believe you were still sitting there—with him.
You’d told him you loved him, without saying the words. You’d given him the choice.
And when he pulled into that tiny, run-down diner he’d always been too embarrassed to suggest before—his favorite, the one that served greasy grilled cheese and chocolate milkshakes that came in metal cups—you didn’t ask any question.
You just unbuckled your seatbelt and smiled.
Eddie grinned. Wide. A little dazed. A little crooked.
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
You heard and looked back at him. And you smiled. The brightest smile he had ever seen and if he hadn’t been completely obsessed with you before, he sure as hell was now. He took your hand and you laced your fingers. The way you looked at him like he was made of something rare, like he was wanted and not just tolerated. The way your fingers fit between his like they’d been waiting for him this whole time. There was no big music swell. No flashing lights. Just the hum of the streetlamp outside the diner and the warmth of your hand in his.
Eddie stared at your joined fingers like he couldn’t believe it.
“You’re unreal, y’know that?” he asked, voice lower, gentler than usual before he grinned at you. “Like—someone should check if you actually exist.”
You chuckled. “You’re holding my hand.”
“Yeah, well,” he breathed, grinning again, “I’ve hallucinated worse.”
You tugged him towards the diner.
Inside, the place smelled like melted butter and old coffee. The waitress didn’t even blink at the sight of the two of you—just gave a tired smile and led you to a cracked booth by the window. Eddie ordered for both of you like he’d done it a hundred times in his dreams. You didn’t stop smiling. Not once.
That night, between bites of grilled cheese and the clink of milkshake cups, something settled between you. And neither of you needed soup to feel full anymore.
“You wanna know something funny?” You asked at the end of dinner.
Eddie blinked, half a strawful of chocolate milkshake still in his mouth. He slurped the rest of it up dramatically before leaning forward across the sticky table.
“Always,” he confirmed, eyes twinkling. “But only if it’s, like, ha-ha funny and not cry-in-the-shower funny.”
You smirked, playing with a napkin between your fingers.
“It’s about the soup,” you admitted.
Eddie gasped, clutching his heart. “My god. I knew this day would come. You’re leaving me for soup.”
You snorted, then rolled your eyes. “No, dork. Just…the day we met? That dumb fight over one stupid can of tomato soup?”
He grinned. “The beginning of our epic, soup-fueled saga. Yeah?”
You nodded before admitting. “I actually don’t even like that brand all that much.”
Eddie’s mouth dropped open like you’d confessed to arson.
“You’re joking. You mean I nearly sprained my wrist dueling a total stranger in a canned goods aisle over soup you didn’t even like?”
You shrugged, that playful gleam in your eyes. “It was the last can. You wanted it. I panicked. And…I dunno. Something about you made me want to get it before you did.”
Eddie stared at you, then burst out laughing. Loud, nose-crinkling, head-thrown-back laughing. A few patrons turned to look, but neither of you cared. When he finally calmed down, he reached across the table, curling his fingers lightly around yours.
“Well,” he said, voice still warm with laughter, “for the record…I’m really glad you were stubborn about that can of soup.”
You squeezed his hand. “Me too.”
The waitress came by to drop off the check, and Eddie reached for it without letting go of your hand.
Summary: Luffy has the great idea for some team bonding and Zoro makes the most of it.
Pairing: OPLA!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader
Word Count: 1,509
A/N: I couldn't not write a OPLA!Zoro piece for my series after the little teaser that came out today. Strawhat slumber party??????? I LOVE
You don't have to read the series, but if you'd like to, you can find it here!
"You realize Luffy's been here the whole time, right?"
Looking up from the book she'd been previously peacefully sleeping, Nami quirks a brow at you.
"Surely, I would've heard him--"
As if she speaks it into existence, in the very next second, a loud snore carries across the room. Stifling the laugh that threatens to bubble out of your lips, you watch as Nami moves to the end of her bed, finally noticing Luffy who'd placed himself there a while ago.
You'd seen him when you'd come into your room, with the intention of following Nami's lead and taking advantage of some quiet reading time. You'd paused at the sight of him, brows raised, but when you noticed how peaceful he looked and how Nami, at the time, hadn't seemed bothered, you'd shrugged it off.
It didn't occur to you until twenty minutes later that Nami just might've, somehow, not known he was there.
"Luffy."
Pushing yourself to your feet just as Nami calls out to your Captain, a giggle escapes your lips when he continues to simply snore, prompting your navigator to deliver a rather sharp smack over the top of his head. Luffy jumps immediately at the touch, catching his strawhat from falling just in the nick of time as he blinks owlishly at you.
"Luffy," Nami calls again, "what are you doing here?"
"Is your room not good enough to nap in?" You tease, tilting your head at Luffy as you crouch in front of him.
Unphased, as always, Luffy beams at the both of you.
"Nami! Y/N!" He greets, "I had an idea. I realized every great pirate crew needs some good, quality bonding time!"
Meeting your eyes, Nami frowns.
Throwing his hands up in the air, Luffy is oblivious to Nami's hesitance. "So we're having a slumber party!"
"No, no," Nami argues instantly, "we're not having a slumber party."
Just as she finishes her words, the door to your shared room opens and in comes Sanji with two trays. "I made snacks!" He grins, "truffle popcorn for the group!" As he shuffles in, Usopp comes bounding in behind him with the projector snail and a grin, waving at you as you stand, moving out of Sanji's way.
"For the group, Luffy," Sanji mumbles as Luffy tries to snatch the popcorn for him.
"And I fixed the snail projector," Usopp says, face falling as he pauses in recollection. "Which... it's kind of a disturbing process."
Hands on your hips, you grin at Nami; "looks like our rooms been hijacked."
She huffs, rolling her eyes but the fond smile that curls on her lips as Sanji takes a seat next to her is undeniable.
Just then, the door opens again. Your face instantly brightens at the sight of Zoro.
"Zoro!" Luffy calls, "you made it!"
Surveying the room, Zoro meets your eyes, gaze softening, before turning to Luffy and shrugging. "You said there'd be booze."
With that, he turns to grab a chair and decision made, you move over to Sanji, who's already holding the bottle of sake he'd grabbed out towards you. He sends you a wink as you grab at, smiling shyly at him before moving your way around the bed.
"So, question," Sanji turns to Zoro, "do you sleep with those swords?"
Pausing just as you hand the sake to him, Zoro's face is blunt as he says; "maybe."
You let out a soft giggle at that, Zoro watching you for a moment before stepping behind you to grab a spare chair.
"Okay," Nami sighs, "I guess we are having a slumber party."
"It's showtime!" Sanji grins at her.
Usopp finishes setting up the white sheet that will act as your mock projector screen, letting out giggles of excitement as he sits down with a blanket. Realizing the movie is about the start, you turn to ask Nami to make some room for you when a hand falls on your hip, pulling you back.
The lights click off, shrouding you in darkness as your back falls into a familiar chest. You turn, catching Zoro's gaze in the lowlight as he smirks at you, settling you on his lap.
"Won't you get uncomfortable?" You whisper to him, not wanting to disturb the others as the movie starts.
Zoro quirks a brow at you, as if asking if you're really asking that, before proceeding to slip his arm around your waist and pull you flush against him. A flush coats your cheeks as he does, but you let yourself lean into his embrace, watching as he tilts his head back to take a spit of the sake before turning to focus on the movie.
-
An hour into the movie and you and Zoro are the only ones still awake.
Usopp, despite his initial excitement, had been the first to fall asleep. You'd caught the end of his head tipping before he righted himself, only to proceed to do the same thing for the next five minutes. Luffy's snores filtered the room shortly after and then, when you'd turn to say something to Nami, you'd noticed her and Sanji resting peacefully on her swinging bed.
Honestly, you'd expected Zoro to be the first to fall asleep, since he regularly napped. So you were pleasantly surprised when you felt his fingers brush against the hem of his shirt and his eyes on you.
"They're the ones who wanted to do this and they're the first to fall asleep," he snorts, voice low as he glances down at Luffy and Usopp.
You giggle, "I mean, part of a slumber party is to... slumber, right?"
Raising a brow, Zoro just chuckles, shrugging as he takes another sip of his sake.
Realizing there wasn't much point to watching movie any longer, especially now that you were hyperaware of the fact that it was just you and Zoro awake, and the fact that you'd honestly struggled to pay attention the whole time... you shift on Zoro's lap. You tilt so you're turned towards him, and reach your hand out.
He eyes your hand, blinking, before handing you the sake.
"Thought you didn't like drinking."
Shrugging, you smile as you take a sip. It burns down the back of your throat and a series of coughs leaves your lips as you swallow, prompting Zoro to laugh, as he takes the sake back.
"Wanted to know why you're always drinking it," you mumble, still catching your breath. "That's awful."
"You get used to it," Zoro explains. Then, wiping at your mouth, Zoro raises a brow; "you've really never had any sake before?"
You shake your head, "no. And I probably won't again."
"I'll get you to like it," Zoro says, causing you to blink up at him.
Smiling, you bite your lip; "yeah?"
"Yeah," he nods. "After all, my girl's gotta be able to handle her liquor."
Something flutters in your stomach at his words, a shiver crawling up the back of your spine as you meet Zoro's gaze in the low moonlight, eyes twinkling.
"Your girl?"
Smirking, Zoro shrugs; "do you not like it?"
"No," you mumble, fiddling with your fingers. "I definitely like it."
He snorts, again, this time laced with affection and feeling a surge of confidence, you lean forward, pressing a kiss to the edge of his lips. The action surprises Zoro, you can tell by the way his body freezes at the touch, and you smile to yourself, proud to have caught him off guard and move to lean back.
The bottle of sake clatters to the ground with a loud thump, but before you can even tell him off for being loud, his hand is on the back of your head and he's pulling you forward to press his lips against yours.
You gasp into his mouth and Zoro takes full advantage of it, slipping his other arm around your waist to pull you closer.
Then, the lights flicker on.
You pull away, jumping as your eyes squint at the sudden light. It takes you a second, but you see Nami standing by the light switch, hands on her hips.
"Get a room, you two."
Cheeks burning, you hide your face in your hands. Zoro, unbothered, simply shrugs, moving to lean forward, you still in his arms and shifting with him, and grabs his rogue bottle of sake off the ground.
"Ugh," Usopp calls from his spot, "who turned on the lights?"
He's followed by a loud snore from Luffy.
Sanji raises his head; "Nami, did something happen?"
Meeting your eyes, Nami smirks at you; "we didn't finish the movie."
Relieved she didn't say more, your shoulders ease as Zoro chuckles behind you.
"Ah!" Usopp calls, loud enough it stirs Luffy awake. "I don't even remember when I fell asleep."
"Is there any popcorn left?" Luffy groans, rubbing at his eyes.
As the chatter continues, you turn to Zoro, lips still tingling from the way he'd kissed. He meets your gaze, smirking, and something twinkles in his gaze.
hi! i’m back with another list <3 please give so much love to all of these authors! these fics are all +18 so minors dni!!! part 3 coming in a month :)
⭑ part 1
a- angst f- fluff s- smut
series (completed)
with a sense of innocence by @borathae
f2l!au, idiots in love, mutual pining, college!au, neighbours!au (f, s)
A collection of stories about two oblivious idiots trying to do love together
puzzle by @kimvvantae
friends with benefits au; college au (a, s)
you and jungkook are best friends of a lifetime, even though your personalities are like unmatching pieces of a puzzle. the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed between you two - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?
i want you to stay by @ahundredtimesover
boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels (What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim-inspired) (a, f, s)
Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder
love to hate by @kpopfanfictrash
enemies to lovers, fuck buddies!au (a, f, s)
Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.
practice by @chryblossomjjk
fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader, college au, fwb (a, f, s)
you usually spend friday nights on your own. tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, jungkook, decides to pay you a visit
only for you by @jikookiekosmos
best friend!jungkook/reader (a, f, s)
It’s the night before your wedding and you should be happy…but a fight with your fiancé leaves you second guessing everything. A visit from the blue-haired boy of your dreams is just what you need to make it right
clash by @matchagator
slice of life; neighbors au; e2l (a, f, s)
You're a new resident in your very first apartment excited to enjoy the simple life of adulthood. Unfortunately for you, you continue to run into unruly neighbors no matter how much you try to keep to yourself
in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook
dextrocardia by @jeonstudios
cop!jk x f detective!reader, undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au (a, f, s?)
“She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this.”
"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.
Spouses.
the alpha omega series by @borathae
alpha!jungkook x f. omega!reader, werewolves!au, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers!AU (a, f, s)
Jungkook is the son of the pack Alpha and therefore heir of the titel. You are an omega and utterly out of his league. This is the story of how, against all odds, you and he became true mates
oneshots
elemental by @kpopfanfictrash
second chance romance; modern fantasy (a, f, s)
Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore
meraki by @taegularities
e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader (f, s)
Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know
jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes
it was always you by @hueseok
brother’s best friend au, childhood friends to lovers au; ft. naval aviator!jk, professor!reader (a, f, s)
for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years. so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor. or at least, that’s what you think
on mute by @yoon-kooks
fuckboy!gamer!jjk x reader, friends to lovers, office!au, coworker!au (f, s)
You always assumed your handsome coworker was down to fuck anyone in the office except for you. He always assumed you weren’t interested in a guy like him. And both of you were content with never admitting your feelings… until he unknowingly confides in you in the realms of a certain tactical FPS game
Some recs from JK too, please read them! They are amazing writers with amazing works.
The Jorts (M) | JJK - @gukslut
{Warnings} impreg kink. i’m tired. there’s cum. over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, cock-warming, doggy style, oral (f), dirty talk, swearing, ttc. it’s filth but its love, of course.
—
mature - @jiminrings
glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.
—
MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국 - @lovieku
when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.
—
NNN (NO NUT NOVEMBER) ! ... thanksgiving special - @voyter
jungkook and his friends are all in on the internet's most ridiculous trend: no nut november. but you’re determined to make your boyfriend lose — and you know just how to do it.
—
Unspoken || Jungkook - @armpirate
Summary: You thought you had a happy relationship with your boyfriend, you were convinced nothing would ever come between you two. At least until you first met Jungkook, Mingyu's friend and base partner, for a holiday break. His pull toward you was immediate, but also forbidden. Neither of you needed to express how you felt about each other, your attraction was unspoken. Although it'd only get out of control the second you both confessed how you felt about each other.
—
swipe right - jjk | m - @ppersonna
♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?
—
Put Your Head on My Shoulder - @kkukverse
Pair : husband!jk x wife!reader
—
LIE WITH YOU ⋆ JJK - @girlygguk
in which jungkook doesn't realize what he has until he just about loses it.
—
summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges. - @onlyswan
—
admiring from afar - @jeonsalibi
summary: you owed a friend a favour, a favour which entailed a blind date. but the catch, it was only blind on your side.
SYNOPSIS ⤏ popular youtubers team up on all new minecraft smp, quick to name themselves the "newly weds" after sunghoon gifts y/n a poppy. but will these romantic endeavors between the two just be "for the lore," or will feelings blossom?
PARING ⤏ youtuber!sunghoon x youtuber!fem reader
GENRE ⤏ smau, some written, rom-com, friends to lovers, youtuber/streamer au, is it ever really just "for the lore"??
FEATURING ⤏ enhypen, jisung from nct, taeyoung from cravity, seunghan from riize, liz from ive
FACECLAIM ⤏ faceclaim for y/n purely for picture purposes!! (@ kani_o3o on ig)
WARNINGS ⤏ swearing, kms/kys & nsfw jokes, pls ignore timestamps 💔, mentions of minecraft wars, alliances, and deaths, most of them go by online aliases
PLAYLIST ⤏ let the world burn, chris grey | sleeping giants, the crane wives | valentine, laufey | sailor song, gigi perez | glue song, beabadoobee | video games, lana del rey | here with me, d4vd | star, mitski | just friends, keshi | melting, kali uchis
STARTED ⤏ 01/12/2025
STATUS ⤏ on-going ♡
NOTE ⤏ i watched nothing but mcyts for WEEKS when i came up with this idea... so uh here's a smau heavily inspired by the life series created by grian 😃👍 bcs i have an addiction
hey this is my… new long… very long.. list of recently readings! let me know what you guys think cause this took forever to organize 😭 💋 (also is the letters too small?
jungkook masterlist
🌟 swipe right by @ppersonna (genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers | completed)
summary: after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?
my review
🌟 stuck with you by @aajjks (genre: crack, 18+) | ongoing (?)
summary: Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.
my review
🌟 what’s your name again? by @solarhysm (smut, oneshot) | completed
summary: jungkook met you at a costume party for the new year eve. you're bold, drunk and horny.
my review
🌟 teach me how to love by @kookooluvr (genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments) | pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers | ongoing
summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.
my review
🌟 webbed heartstrings by @focusonkayjay (genre/Tags: spiderman/ campus heartthrob! jungkook, college student! reader, friends (but not exactly) to lovers, i think they're in a situationship, spiderman au, spiderkook au, angst, fluff) | ongoing
my review
🌟 fuck me up by @jungkoode (genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut with plot, fuck buddies) | ongoing
summary: When your search for affordable NYC housing leads you to apartment 6B, you think you've hit the jackpot. That is, until you realize your new roommate is the guy from that one wild night on January - the one who ruined you for anyone else. Now you're stuck sharing walls with the living embodiment of your worst mistake, and the sexual tension is thick enough to choke on. Between his emotional damage and your trust issues, this arrangement is a disaster waiting to happen. But hey, at least the hate sex is phenomenal.
my review: my review my review
🌟 letting fear run the show by @focusonkayjay (genre/tags: fuckbuddy! jungkook, secret friends with benefits to lovers, angst, fluff, smut) | completed
my review:
🌟 playing the part by @goldenchimmy (genre: smut) | older!jk x reader, age gap | completed
summary: needing money for college, you come across an ad for a female escort. You didn't expect the person posting the ad to be a rich, older man.
my review
🌟 mutt by @letsbangts (genre: smut, angst, friends with benefits au) | fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk | completed
summary: when you realize you can’t teach an old dog new tricks
🌟 answer your phone by @letsbangts (genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends with benefits au) | fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk | completed
summary: when the consequences of his actions come calling
🌟 the jorts by @gukslut (genre: Established Relationship/fluff/smut) | completed
my review
🌟 back and forth by @gukslut (genre: smut/fluff) | completed
my review
🌟 the speedo by @gukslut (genre: fluff/smut) | completed
summary: JK has fallen in love. Too bad the object of his affections thinks he’s a fuckboy who gets blowjobs in women’s locker rooms. How did Jungkook convince his future wife to give him a chance when none of his usual tricks work?
🌟 beyond the job by @kooggukk (genre: ?) | girl dad!jk x reader | ongoing
summary: babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)
🌟 vampire boy by @smartkookiee (genre: smut/supernatural) | vampire!Jungkook x human!Reader | ongoing
summary: So your boyfriend is a vampire…It’s actually not too different than having a human boyfriend. He is kind and caring and genuinely loves you. He’s just a touch afraid of garlic and he’s kind of cold. Other than that everything is the same and you couldn’t ask for anyone better. You cannot imagine spending your life with anyone else, except… it would be only your life going on. which wasn’t a problem… right
my review
🌟 true love by @lovieku (fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l) | tattoo artist!jk x reader | ongoing?
summary: when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.
my review
🌟 get him back by @inthelow (genre: fake relationships trope, kinda growing up womanhood thing, female rage (a LOT of female rage), funny but cringe in the same way, a lot of drama - in a comedy way but also very shitty things - a lot of bad jokes and some angst ) | f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook | ongoing
summary: after a hard breakup with who you thought would be the one, the only thing in your mind was a sad playlist of Taylor Swift songs and red wine. But, what happens when your neighbour- who is done of hearing you cry at 2 am in the morning - puts the idea in your head of getting your ex back? but with a good and sweet revenge… of course everything will be easier if you didn’t have any feelings for your ex and if your neighbour wasn’t a superstar idol who doesn’t have a problem at pretending to be your boyfriend to piss off that ex - who also happens to be his ex best friend -. What a mess, right?
my review
🌟 motive by @luvismenu (genre: smut, written) | brother's best friend , e2l , childhood friends
suqmmary: jungkook is your brother’s best friend, someone you’ve grown up with. the two of you have a knack for clashing, always throwing attitude and finding ways to piss each other off. yet, there’s a connection neither of you can ignore.
my review
🌟 sthings attached (to my heart) by @jungkoode (genre: smut, superhero, spider-man au) | spiderkook x reader | ongoing
summary: You were a journalist at Yonsei University when you started noticing the strange coincidences between your favorite bumbling freshman and Seoul's newest superhero. The way Spider-Man's voice cracks on 'noona' exactly like Jungkook's does. The way they both bring you the same snacks, have the same nervous energy, the same tendency to ramble when flustered. You tell yourself it's just a coincidence, because the alternative means admitting something you're absolutely not ready to deal with.
kianamaiart
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