The Fic Corner

[haileyb444]

Masterlist

** All/most of my fics will be x fem oc

Merlin BBC

Percival

Training Troubles

The Curse

Chains of the Heart

Frozen Hearts

The Guardian of the Lost

Leon

A Day in the Sun

A Knight's Fury

A Year in the Shadows

The Accusation

The King's Wrath

Bound by Loyalty

Through Shadows and Chains

A Knight's Secret

A Crown of Thorns

Reflections of the Heart

Gwaine

The Magic Within

A Daring Rescue

The Lucky Charm

The Rogue's Gamble

The Rebel Knight

Twilight

Jasper

A Love Eternal

Fast & Furious

Han Lue

Tokyo Drift: Bound in Motion

BTS

Jeon Jungkook

Beneath the Spotlight

Hidden in the Spotlight

Wednesday

Xavier Thorpe

Shattered Shadows

B99

Jake Peralta

Operation: Glitterstrike

The Unsolvable Variable

That Thing You Do

Top Gun Maverick

Bob Floyd

The Pilot, the Poet, and the Storm

Unspoken Rules

Opposites Ache Alike

The Night She Stopped Running

The Eyes Only She Sees

All the Things He Never Said

Fantastic Four: First Steos

Johnny Storm

The Second Heartbeat

Need for Speed

Cravings at Midnight

The Kick

Overprotective Torch

Name Game

Nest of Flames

The Same Beat

Last Updated: 9/5/25

[jung-koook]

260114 - 2026/2027 BTS WORLD TOUR schedule announcement

[haileyb444]

Can’t wait!

[haileyb444]

I Hate This Place

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: Trapped waiting in the Upside Down longer than planned, Steve fills the silence with complaints until fear gives way to honesty and the quiet moment between you becomes something neither of you expected.

The Upside Down smells like wet metal and rot, like the world forgot how to breathe and never learned again. The air clings to your skin, heavy and damp, and every sound feels too loud in the wrong ways and nonexistent in all the right ones. Somewhere far off, something moves. You decide not to think about it.

Steve Harrington, unfortunately, does think about it. Out loud.

“I just wanna say,” he whispers, crouched beside you behind a collapsed wall, “this place is objectively the worst. Like, if hell had a waiting room, it would be this.”

You fight a smile. “You’re not wrong.”

He shifts closer, knees knocking softly against yours. “The vines are gross. The floor is gross. The fact that it’s always dark is gross. And don’t even get me started on the particles floating in the air. Are they spores. Are they alive. I don’t want to know.”

“You’re doing great,” you murmur.

“I am not,” he says immediately. “I am coping. There’s a difference.”

You adjust your grip on the bat, listening. Too quiet. It has been too quiet for too long. The plan was simple. Go in. Distract. Get out. But the signal hasn’t come yet, and waiting is somehow worse than running.

Steve leans back against the wall, exhaling through his nose. “If we get out of here, I’m never complaining about Hawkins again.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Okay, I’ll complain less.”

You glance at him. His hair is messier than usual, curls damp with sweat, jaw tight like he’s holding something in. He catches you looking and lifts an eyebrow.

“What.”

“You’ve been talking nonstop for ten minutes.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. “I talk when I’m nervous.”

You soften. “I know.”

That seems to take the wind out of him. He looks down, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

“I hate this place,” he says again, quieter this time. “I hate not knowing where they are. Or when something’s gonna jump out. Or if…” He trails off, then shakes his head. “Never mind.”

You shift closer without thinking, shoulder brushing his. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine.”

“I’m not pretending,” he says, then sighs. “Okay, I am. A little.”

Silence settles again, but it’s different now. Less sharp. You listen to each other breathe, slow and steady, like you’re keeping time.

Steve glances at you. “You scared.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Good. I mean, not good. But… same.”

You bump your shoulder into his gently. “You’re allowed to be scared.”

“Feels illegal,” he mutters.

Another minute passes. Then another. You lean your head back against the wall, eyes on the drifting ash-like particles. Steve shifts again, closer still, until your arms are pressed together. Neither of you move away.

“If something jumps out,” he whispers, “I’m hitting it first.”

“I know.”

“And if it grabs you—”

“You’ll hit it harder,” you finish.

He smiles faintly. “Exactly.”

The quiet stretches, thick but not unbearable. Steve’s knee nudges yours. He freezes, glancing at you, like he’s about to apologize.

You don’t give him the chance. You lean into him instead, resting your head against his shoulder. His breath stutters for half a second before evening out. He doesn’t move away. He doesn’t joke. He just lets you.

“You okay,” he asks softly.

“Better,” you say honestly.

His arm lifts, hesitant, then settles around your shoulders like it’s always belonged there. Warm. Solid. Real. The Upside Down hums around you, distant and wrong, but for a moment it fades.

“I don’t hate this part,” he admits.

You smile against his jacket. “Which part.”

“This,” he says. “You. Sitting here. Waiting it out together.”

Your heart does a stupid little flip. You tilt your head, looking up at him. His eyes are soft, unguarded in a way you don’t see often.

“Yeah,” you say. “Me neither.”

Somewhere, faint but clear, the signal crackles through the walkie.

Steve exhales a relieved laugh. “Thank god.”

You pull back reluctantly. He does the same, already reaching for his bat, back in business. But before you move, he glances at you again.

“Hey,” he says. “When we get out of here… we should do something normal.”

“Like.”

“Like not almost dying,” he says. “Maybe ice cream. Or a movie. Somewhere that doesn’t smell like death.”

You grin. “I’d like that.”

He grins back, brighter now, courage settling back into place. “Cool. Then let’s survive.”

Together, you stand, stepping back into the dark.

[haileyb444]

Stay With Me, Please

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: After a psychic collapse in Family Video, she wakes in Steve’s arms, and he realizes the thing he fears most isn’t the monster hunting her but losing her.

Family Video was slow that afternoon, the kind of quiet that made the hum of the fluorescent lights feel heavier than usual. Steve was behind the counter restacking tapes when the air around you shifted. It pressed in like a migraine blooming behind your eyes, sharp and cold. You reached for the counter, knuckles whitening as the room tilted.

Steve noticed instantly. “Hey, you okay?” His voice lightened with worry when you didn’t answer. You blinked, but the floor rushed up faster than your vision could clear.

Strong arms caught you before your head hit the linoleum.

“Hey. Hey. Stay with me.” Steve lowered you gently, one hand supporting your head, the other trembling as it hovered near your cheek. Your breath hitched as the pulse rolled through your skull again, a distant echo of chiming that only you could hear. His face blurred in your sight, smudged like wet paint.

“Come on. Look at me.” His voice broke a little. “Please.”

You forced your eyes open. Steve’s were inches from yours, brown and terrified and trying to mask it. He brushed a thumb under your jaw to ground you, his touch cautious but firm enough to pull you back from whatever was clawing at your mind.

“It was him,” you whispered, breath shaking. “He’s getting closer.”

Steve swallowed. Fear flickered across his expression, but it wasn’t fear of Vecna. It was fear of losing you.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He lifted you up slowly, pulling you against his chest. His heart thudded hard under your ear, steady and warm and real. “I’m not losing you. Not today. Not ever.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt as the last of the ringing faded. You breathed him in, the scent of cologne and popcorn and something safe. He rubbed your back, coaxing your breaths to steady until they matched his.

You whispered, “Thank you.”

Steve kissed the top of your head without thinking. “You never thank me for caring. I’m here because I want to be.”

You looked up at him. Your breath caught. His did too.

Neither of you moved away.

[haileyb444]

Fireproof Kisses

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader

Summary: After the space mission, Johnny learns that fire now lives beneath his skin. He’s terrified of burning the one person he loves most—but she’s determined to prove that he’ll never hurt her.

The first time he touched her after the accident, he pulled away like he’d been burned.

It had been three days since they’d come back from space. Three days of Reed’s instruments buzzing and Sue’s gentle voice trying to keep everyone calm. Three days since Johnny had burst into flame in the middle of the med bay.

Now the Baxter Building was quiet except for the soft hiss of rain on the windows. She stood at the doorway to his room, watching him sit cross-legged on the floor, hands trembling as they flickered with faint orange light.

“Johnny?”

He didn’t look up. “Don’t come closer.”

Her stomach twisted. “You’re not—”

“I mean it.” His voice cracked. “I can’t control it yet. Reed says it’s tied to my heart rate, my emotions, whatever. So maybe don’t—” He clenched his fists, forcing the fire down until only a dull glow remained under his skin. “Don’t risk it.”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You really think I’m scared of you?”

“You should be.” He laughed once, harshly. “I’m a human torch, babe. A literal one. Do you know what that means? I could—” He broke off, staring at his hands. “I could hurt you.”

She stepped forward anyway. The room smelled faintly of smoke and metal, the air warmer around him like standing too close to a bonfire.

“Johnny.”

“Don’t.” He scrambled back until his shoulders hit the wall. “You shouldn’t be here. Go—hang out with Sue or Reed or—anyone who doesn’t spontaneously combust.”

Her voice softened. “And leave you to sit here alone, scared, pretending you’re fine?”

He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“You’re not a danger to me,” she said, crossing the final distance. “You never have been.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. When I lose focus—when I feel too much—it just happens. I’m a walking flamethrower.”

“Then we’ll learn how to handle it together.”

He finally looked up. The blue of his eyes glimmered against the faint glow of his skin, equal parts fear and longing.

She knelt in front of him, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him in waves. It was intense but not unbearable—like sitting near a campfire on a cold night.

“Do you trust me?” she asked quietly.

He swallowed hard. “You know I do.”

“Then let me prove it.”

Before he could argue, she reached out, threading her fingers through his. His breath hitched as a spark jumped between them—but it faded instantly.

Her skin stayed cool.

“See?” she whispered, smiling faintly. “Fireproof.”

Johnny stared at their joined hands, awe breaking through his fear. He turned them over slowly, tracing her knuckles with a trembling thumb. “How are you not…?”

“Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s you. Maybe love really does beat science sometimes.”

He laughed weakly. “Reed would hate that theory.”

“Then it’s probably right.”

The warmth under his skin steadied. He dared to lift his other hand to her cheek, moving slowly, as if afraid she’d vanish. She didn’t flinch when his thumb brushed her skin—only leaned into it.

“I missed this,” he whispered.

“You haven’t lost it.”

He hesitated, still searching her eyes for any sign of pain. “You sure?”

Instead of answering, she leaned forward and kissed him.

It was soft at first—tentative, careful. The heat between them flared, the faint shimmer of flame tracing across his shoulders before dimming again. Her fingers slid into his hair, anchoring him, grounding him.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless.

“See?” she murmured, forehead resting against his. “Still in one piece.”

Johnny laughed, the sound shaking but real. “Guess you really are fireproof.”

“Guess you really are worth the risk.”

He pulled her into his arms then, holding her close as the storm rumbled outside. The faint glow beneath his skin softened to gold, gentle and steady, warming the room without burning it.

For the first time since space, Johnny Storm stopped feeling like a danger.

He just felt alive.

And as she kissed him again—slow and certain—he realized that maybe, just maybe, some fires were meant to be shared.

[haileyb444]

Rainy Day Blanket Fort

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Fem Reader

Summary: When a storm knocks the power out, Johnny and his girl turn a dreary night into an unforgettable one by building a blanket fort and swapping stories until dawn.

The storm started with a whisper—soft rain tapping against the windows, low thunder rolling across the city. But by the time the power cut out with a loud click and the apartment plunged into darkness, the rain was pouring so hard it drowned out every other sound.

She groaned from the couch, clutching the now-dead remote in her hand. “Of course. Movie night ruined.”

From the kitchen, Johnny’s voice floated through the dark. “Movie night? Babe, this is our chance to get creative.”

She squinted toward the sound of him. “Creative like… what? Reading by candlelight?”

A lighter flared, and a second later Johnny appeared with a triumphant grin, holding a candle like he’d just invented fire itself. “Nope. Better. We’re building a fort.”

She laughed, pulling a blanket tighter around her shoulders. “A fort? Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Johnny said, already tossing cushions off the couch. “Do you know how many boring rainy nights I spent in hotels with Reed? And did he ever think to make a blanket fort? No. Because Reed has no imagination. But me—” he gestured dramatically, “—I’ve got vision.”

“Vision that involves stealing all the blankets?” she teased as he raided the linen closet.

“Borrowing,” he corrected, hauling an armful into the living room. “Come on, help me out.”

⸻

Twenty minutes later, the apartment was transformed. Blankets draped from chairs and couch backs, pillows stacked in a nest, the candle Johnny had lit flickering inside the makeshift dome. Rain hammered outside, but in their little cocoon, everything felt warm and safe.

Johnny crawled in first, patting the spot beside him. “Welcome to Castle Storm.”

She raised a brow as she squeezed in after him. “Castle Storm?”

He smirked. “Better than Castle Grimm. At least my walls don’t brood.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling as she settled beside him. The fort was clumsy, lopsided, one blanket sagging in the middle—but it was theirs.

⸻

They lay shoulder to shoulder, staring at the candlelight shadows dancing across the blankets overhead.

“So,” Johnny said, propping his chin in his hand. “Tell me a story.”

She turned to him, amused. “What kind of story?”

“Any story. Embarrassing. Romantic. Scandalous. Preferably one that makes me look good.”

She snorted. “That narrows it down.”

“Hey,” he protested, nudging her with his shoulder. “I’m very story-worthy.”

She thought for a moment, then smirked. “Fine. How about the time in high school when you tried to impress me by jumping off the roof into the pool, but you missed and hit the bushes instead?”

Johnny groaned, covering his face. “Why would you bring that up?”

“Because it’s hilarious.”

“I sprained my ankle!”

“You also screamed louder than anyone I’ve ever heard,” she added, giggling. “You sounded like a banshee.”

He peeked at her through his fingers, grinning despite himself. “And yet… you still fell for me.”

Her smile softened. “Yeah. I did.”

The storm outside rumbled, but inside the fort, everything stilled. Johnny’s blue eyes caught the candlelight, softer than usual, vulnerable.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Best decision you ever made.”

She leaned in, kissing him softly. “Best one we ever made.”

And as the thunder rolled on and the rain poured down, they stayed tangled in their blanket fort—telling stories, stealing kisses, and turning a powerless night into something unforgettable.

[haileyb444]

Hi! I really like your Johnny Storm stories 🥹

Just a tiny note: I noticed you mentioned his eyes as green, but they're actually blue! I'm not trying to be a smartass correcting you or smth, and I hope you don’t take this ask the wrong way 💙

Hi! So glad you like them! I fixed them thank you for letting me know I didn’t even realize I made that mistake.

[samartchy]

Hi Herbert

[haileyb444]

Third Wheel

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Ben insists on tagging along on one of their dates. His constant grumbling doesn’t stop Johnny from making sure she knows she’s worth every bit of the trouble.

The night was supposed to be simple.

Reservations for two at a cozy restaurant Johnny had bragged about for weeks, a chance to dress up, leave the chaos of missions and headlines behind, and just be together.

Instead, she found herself sliding into the backseat of Johnny’s car only to realize the front passenger seat was already occupied—by her brother.

“Ben,” she said, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his massive arms over his chest. “Making sure he doesn’t screw this up.”

Johnny groaned, hitting the steering wheel dramatically. “Oh, come on! What is this, bring-your-own-chaperone night? Babe, tell him to go home.”

But Ben just shot him a look, and she sighed. “Johnny, you know he’s not going anywhere once he’s decided.”

“Unbelievable,” Johnny muttered as he pulled onto the street. “You know, when I said I’d take you somewhere special, I didn’t mean us and your overgrown shadow.”

“I heard that,” Ben grumbled.

“Good,” Johnny fired back.

The restaurant was warm and low-lit, all flickering candles and quiet clink of silverware. Perfectly romantic. Except, of course, for the six-foot-something wall of muscle glaring across the table.

The maître d’ arched a brow. “Table for two?”

“Three,” Ben interrupted, voice final.

Johnny forced a smile. “Sure. Why not. Third wheel coming through.”

They were led to a corner booth. Johnny slid in first, tugging her beside him with a flourish, and Ben settled across from them, his weight making the table creak.

“So,” Johnny said, picking up the menu. “What are we all having? Candlelit steak for two? Or should we order an extra portion for Dad over here?”

Ben’s glare could have melted steel.

Dinner was an exercise in patience—Johnny’s patience, specifically.

When Johnny tried to reach under the table to squeeze her hand, Ben cleared his throat so loudly nearby diners turned to look.

When Johnny leaned in to whisper a joke that made her laugh, Ben muttered, “Not funny.”

And when Johnny suggested sharing dessert—“one plate, two forks, you know, couple-y stuff”—Ben called the waiter over and ordered an entire slice of cheesecake for himself.

Johnny slumped back in the booth, muttering under his breath, “I’m living in a nightmare.”

She bit back a smile, covering her laugh with a sip of water.

It wasn’t until Ben excused himself to answer a phone call that Johnny let the mask slip. He turned to her immediately, eyes softer than they’d been all night.

“Hey,” he murmured, catching her hand.

“What?” she asked, brow furrowing at his sudden seriousness.

He squeezed her fingers, leaning close. “This is worth it. You’re worth it. Even if he sits here all night breathing down my neck, even if I can’t kiss you the way I want to, even if I have to act like I’m not dying every time he glares at me. I’d do it again tomorrow. And the day after. Because being here with you—” his thumb brushed her knuckles, his voice dropping, “—is worth every bit of it.”

Her chest ached, heat flooding her cheeks. “Johnny…”

His grin flickered back, playful but laced with something deeper. “Don’t let the grump across the table fool you. I’d fight him every day if it meant keeping this. Keeping you.”

Before she could respond, Ben returned, scowling at the phone in his hand. Johnny immediately leaned back, throwing his arm across the back of the booth, smirk plastered on.

“Good call?” Johnny asked innocently.

Ben grunted. “Better than this dinner.”

But when Johnny’s fingers found hers under the table again—warm, steady, certain—she knew exactly what he meant earlier.

She was worth it. And no amount of third-wheeling would change that.

[haileyb444]

The Wedding Ring

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Johnny can’t stop fiddling with his wedding ring—at home, in public, even in battle. She finally asks why, and his answer leaves her speechless.

The first time she noticed it, they were at home.

Johnny was sprawled on the couch in his usual lazy sprawl—feet kicked up on the coffee table, TV remote in one hand, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. With his other hand, he kept twisting his wedding band around his finger, sliding it up and down the joint, spinning it absentmindedly.

She watched for a minute, amused, before nudging him with her foot. “You’re going to wear a groove into your skin if you keep doing that.”

“Huh?” Johnny glanced down, as if surprised to find the ring in his hand. He shrugged, grinning. “Can’t help it. Feels nice.”

She shook her head, but the habit didn’t stop.

The second time, they were out in public.

Sue had dragged them both to a gala Reed couldn’t wiggle out of. Johnny looked uncharacteristically sharp in a black suit, hair perfectly styled—for all of ten minutes before he ruffled it up himself.

She caught him standing off to the side of the ballroom, fiddling with his ring while a small group of admirers tried to flirt with him. He wasn’t even paying attention to them—he was too busy twirling the band between his fingers, eyes searching the crowd until they landed on her.

When she crossed the room to rescue him, he slipped the ring back on with a smirk. “Guess it’s obvious, huh?”

“Painfully,” she murmured, slipping her hand into his.

The third time, she finally asked.

It was early morning. She padded into the kitchen, still wearing one of his t-shirts, to find him leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee. His hair stuck up in every direction, his eyes half-closed, but there it was again—his thumb rolling the ring around and around like he couldn’t stop.

“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve been doing that for weeks. What’s the deal?”

Johnny blinked at her, caught. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a sheepish grin.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

He set the mug down, turning the ring thoughtfully. For once, his cocky bravado slipped away, leaving something rawer, softer.

“It reminds me it’s real,” he admitted. “That you’re real. That you actually chose me.”

Her breath caught.

He laughed nervously, looking down at the band gleaming against his tanned skin. “You know me, babe. I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. I’ve blown stuff up, set things on fire, made a mess out of just about everything in my life. But this?” He lifted his hand, showing her the ring. “This I got right. You. Us. And every time I spin it, it’s like—yeah, I didn’t dream it. I’m actually married to you.”

The kitchen was quiet, sunlight spilling across the counters. She stared at him, heart swelling, and for once she was the one who couldn’t find words.

Johnny stepped closer, slipping his ringed hand into hers, pressing their palms together. “You’re gonna laugh, but sometimes when I’m scared—like really scared—I mess with it. Reminds me I’ve got something worth coming home to.”

Her throat tightened. “Johnny…”

He smirked faintly, though his eyes shone. “Told you it was sappy.”

She shook her head, pulling him down into a kiss that said everything she couldn’t put into words. When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, whispering, “It’s not sappy. It’s perfect.”

Johnny grinned, pressing his lips to her temple. “So you’re saying you don’t mind if I keep fiddling with it?”

She laughed through the lump in her throat. “As long as you don’t lose it.”

“Babe,” he said, holding up his hand with mock solemnity, “I’d set myself on fire before I let that happen.”

And she believed him—because Johnny Storm had many flaws, but when it came to her, his heart had always burned steady.

[haileyb444]

Midnight Grocery Runs

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Married life with Johnny Storm means unexpected midnight adventures—like running to the store because he suddenly needs ice cream.

The clock had already ticked past midnight when she felt the bed dip.

She groaned, tugging the blanket over her head. “Johnny, if you’re getting up to watch car videos again—”

“I need ice cream.”

Her head popped out, squinting at him. “You what?”

“Ice cream,” he repeated, standing there in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair sticking up like he’d been struck by lightning. “Right now. I can practically taste it. Rocky road. Maybe cookie dough. Definitely sprinkles.”

She blinked. “It’s midnight.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, as if that proved his point. “The perfect time for ice cream.”

She sat up slowly, narrowing her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “You married me, so what does that make you?”

A laugh bubbled out despite her exasperation. “Hopeless, apparently.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in the fluorescent glow of a corner store, the only customers in sight. Johnny darted down the freezer aisle like it was a racetrack, throwing open the frosty door with a flourish.

“Behold,” he announced, grabbing pints by the armful. “Cookies and cream, chocolate fudge, strawberry swirl, and—” he held one up triumphantly, “—the holy grail: rocky road.”

She raised a brow at the growing pile in his arms. “We came for one pint, not the entire freezer section.”

Johnny smirked. “Our marriage vows clearly said ‘in sickness and in health, and in unlimited ice cream.’ I distinctly remember it.”

She rolled her eyes but followed him to the counter, shaking her head as he winked at the cashier. On the walk back, the night air crisp around them, Johnny handed her one of the pints and a plastic spoon.

“Emergency ice cream tax,” he said, nudging her shoulder.

She laughed, peeling back the lid. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely in love with you,” he corrected, grinning as he dug into his own pint.

By the time they got home, they were curled up on the couch, sharing bites and laughing at some late-night rerun. The world outside was dark and quiet, but inside, with sticky spoons and stolen kisses, everything felt warm and bright.

And as she leaned into him, she realized this was what marriage with Johnny Storm really meant—not grand gestures or perfect plans, but moments like this. Ordinary nights turned into memories, all because of him.

[haileyb444]

The Yearbook Quote

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: In their senior yearbook, Johnny wrote he would marry her someday. Years later, she finds it—and Johnny gets to say the words he’s been waiting to prove true.

The box of old high school memorabilia was supposed to be for laughs.

She’d dragged it out of the closet on a rainy afternoon, insisting they look through it together. Old photos, ticket stubs, scribbled notes passed during class—it was all there, a time capsule of a life that felt both forever ago and just yesterday.

“God, look at this haircut,” Johnny groaned, holding up a photo of himself with badly gelled spikes. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I tried!” she said between giggles. “You said it made you look edgy.”

He pressed a hand to his heart dramatically. “Babe, I was edgy.”

She rolled her eyes, digging deeper into the box until her fingers brushed something heavy. She pulled it out slowly, dust puffing into the air.

The yearbook. Senior year.

Her stomach flipped as she flipped open the cover, scanning the pages filled with signatures and doodles. Classmates had written silly farewells and cheesy jokes—but when she reached Johnny’s page, she froze.

In bold, messy scrawl under his senior quote, it read: Marrying her someday.

Her throat tightened. She traced the words with her fingertips, the ink faded but still clear.

Johnny, noticing her silence, leaned over. When he saw what she was staring at, his grin faded into something softer. Something deeper.

“You found it,” he murmured.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. “You actually wrote this?”

“Of course I did.” He shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed him. “Everyone else was quoting philosophers or song lyrics. I figured I’d just tell the truth.”

Her lips parted. “Johnny…”

He reached out, gently closing the yearbook and pushing it aside. His hand lingered on hers, warm and sure.

“I meant it then,” he said quietly, green eyes locked on hers. “And I mean it now. I knew—even back when I was a dumb kid with spiky hair—that it was always gonna be you.”

Emotion clogged her throat. She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his, tears pricking her lashes. “You’ve always been ridiculous,” she whispered, smiling through the sting. “But… you were right.”

His grin returned, small but radiant. “Told you so.”

Then he kissed her—slow, certain, the kind of kiss that carried every late-night drive, every laugh, every fight, every year of knowing and choosing each other.

And when he pulled back, the boy who once scribbled a promise in the pages of a yearbook was gone, replaced by the man who had kept it.

[haileyb444]

High School Playlist

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: When Johnny stumbles across an old mix CD she made him as a teenager, they spend the night listening to it, laughing and reminiscing until the memories bring them closer than ever.

Johnny was digging through a box in the back of the closet when he found it.

A scratched-up CD in a cracked plastic case, the label scrawled in her familiar handwriting: For Johnny – Don’t Skip Track 7.

He grinned instantly. “Oh my god. No way.”

“What?” she called from the kitchen.

“Babe, you are so busted,” Johnny crowed, holding the CD aloft as if he’d discovered buried treasure. “Mix tape. Circa high school. With a heart over my name.”

Her cheeks flamed as she appeared in the doorway. “You weren’t supposed to find that.”

“Too late.” He smirked, already sliding it into the old stereo they barely used anymore. “Let’s see what teenage you thought was my vibe.”

The speakers crackled to life, and suddenly the living room was filled with the pulsing beat of a song they hadn’t heard in years.

Johnny whooped, pulling her into an exaggerated dance, spinning her around until she was laughing too hard to protest.

Song after song poured out—some angsty, some loud and ridiculous, some that made them groan in secondhand embarrassment. Every track was a time capsule.

“Remember this one?” Johnny said, wagging his eyebrows as a cheesy love ballad started. “You played it on repeat junior year.”

“I did not!” she laughed, smacking his arm.

“You totally did. And then you sat in the back of class doodling our initials—”

Her jaw dropped. “You peeked at my notebook?”

Johnny grinned shamelessly. “Of course I did. I had to make sure my competition wasn’t getting more hearts than me.”

By the time Track 7 rolled around, they had collapsed onto the couch, her head resting against his shoulder. It was a slow song, soft and aching, the kind of thing only a teenage girl in love would have picked.

Johnny went quiet. He didn’t joke, didn’t tease. He just sat there, listening, his thumb tracing idle patterns against her arm.

“You know,” he said after a long moment, voice quieter than the music, “I think I knew. Even back then. That you were it for me.”

Her chest tightened, tears pricking her eyes. She tilted her head to look at him, finding no trace of his usual bravado—just the boy she’d known, grown into the man she loved.

Without a word, she shifted closer, laying her head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart matched the music, matched hers, steady and sure.

And as the last notes of the song faded, Johnny pressed a kiss to her hair and whispered, “Best playlist I’ve ever had.”

[haileyb444]

First Car

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: She teases Johnny about his beat-up first car, only for him to surprise her years later by tracking down the same model so they can relive the memories together.

The first car Johnny Storm ever owned had been, in her words, “a death trap on wheels.”

It was a rusted-out hunk of metal that coughed black smoke whenever he turned the ignition and rattled so violently she was half convinced it would collapse on the highway. But it was his, and back in high school, that had been enough.

They’d driven it everywhere—late-night trips to the diner, empty parking lots where Johnny tried (and failed) to teach her to do donuts, back roads with the windows rolled down and the radio turned up so loud they had to shout over the music.

It was freedom, chaos, and youth all crammed into a car that smelled faintly of gasoline and fries.

Years later, as they passed a dealership, she teased him about it. “Remember that car? The one that sounded like it was held together with duct tape and prayer?”

Johnny smirked. “You mean the legendary Stormmobile? Yeah, I remember. You loved it.”

“I loved the rides,” she corrected. “Not the car. The car was awful.”

He pressed a hand to his chest dramatically. “Harsh.”

She thought that was the end of it—just another round of teasing over their shared past. Until one Saturday morning, Johnny dragged her outside with a grin that practically split his face.

“What’s going on?” she asked, tugging her jacket tighter.

“Surprise,” he said, gesturing grandly to the curb.

Her jaw dropped. Sitting there, polished and gleaming like it had rolled straight out of memory, was the same model of that beat-up car from high school. The paint was brighter, the dents buffed out, but she’d know those lines anywhere.

“Johnny,” she whispered, stunned. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.” He bounced on his heels, grinning like a kid. “Took me forever to track one down, but I had to. Figured we could take it for a spin—like old times. Minus the chance of spontaneous combustion.”

Her throat tightened, eyes stinging as she stepped closer to run a hand over the hood. It wasn’t just a car. It was every memory they’d made together in those reckless, wonderful nights.

Johnny slipped an arm around her waist, leaning close. “So, you wanna relive the glory days? Windows down, music blasting, me pretending I know how to drive responsibly?”

She laughed through her tears, shoving at his shoulder. “You’ve never driven responsibly.”

“Exactly,” he said, kissing her temple. “Some things never change.”

And as they climbed inside, the leather creaking under them, she realized he was right. The car was newer, the years had passed, but the feeling was the same: freedom, chaos, and love—alive in every mile they shared.

[haileyb444]

Letter Jacket

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: She still has Johnny’s old high school letterman jacket. When he sees her wearing it years later, it brings back memories of the boy he used to be—and reminds him how long he’s loved her.

The jacket was shoved in the back of her closet, buried under newer coats and sweaters. She hadn’t worn it in years, but on a cold, rainy evening, she pulled it out on instinct.

It still smelled faintly like leather and motor oil, the patches fraying around the edges. The sleeves were a little too long, the fit a little too loose, but when she slipped it on, warmth spread through her chest.

Johnny found her curled up on the couch with a book, the jacket draped over her shoulders.

For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in the doorway. His blue eyes softened, his grin faltered, and something quiet slipped past the cocky mask he usually wore.

“Is that… my jacket?”

She looked up, startled, then smirked. “It was yours. You gave it to me. Senior year.”

“I—yeah, I remember.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. “I just didn’t think you’d still have it.”

She tugged the fabric tighter around her, pretending not to notice the way his voice dipped. “Of course I do. It’s comfortable. And warm. And…” She trailed off, lips quirking. “Sentimental.”

Johnny walked over, dropping onto the couch beside her. He stared at the jacket like it was a ghost, fingers twitching against his knees.

“You know, when I gave that to you, I thought I was the coolest guy alive,” he admitted. “Like—yeah, look at me, big man on campus, giving his girl his jacket. Total cliché.”

She laughed softly. “It kind of was.”

“But,” Johnny went on, glancing at her, “seeing you wear it now… I don’t feel like that cocky kid anymore. I just feel… lucky. Like I was already in love with you back then, and I didn’t even know how deep it went.”

Her throat tightened. She reached out, tugging gently on his sleeve until his hand found hers. The jacket’s oversized cuff brushed against his fingers, the same way it had years ago when they walked home from games and late-night diner runs.

“You were a mess in high school,” she teased, voice gentle. “But you were my mess.”

Johnny chuckled, leaning closer, his forehead brushing hers. “And you’ve been stuck with me ever since.”

He tugged at the collar of the jacket, pulling it closer around her shoulders. “Keep it forever, okay? Not because it’s mine, but because… it was us. It still is.”

Her smile broke through the lump in her throat. “I was planning on it.”

Johnny kissed her then, slow and certain, the frayed edges of the jacket brushing against his hands as he held her close.

And for the first time in years, he didn’t see the reckless boy who had given it away—he saw the man who had never stopped loving the girl who wore it.

[haileyb444]

Late-Night Burgers

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Old habits die hard. Years after sneaking out together in high school, Johnny takes her back to their favorite diner for a midnight trip down memory lane.

The neon sign buzzed faintly above the diner, casting the cracked asphalt parking lot in a tired red glow. It looked exactly the same as it had back then—chipped paint on the windowsills, the smell of grease and coffee drifting out into the night air, the jukebox inside probably still stuck on the same three songs.

Johnny shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, grinning as he glanced over at her. “Déjà vu, huh?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this place is still open. We practically kept it in business during senior year.”

“Correction—I kept it in business,” Johnny teased. “You just stole my fries.”

Her smirk was fond as they pushed open the door, the bell overhead chiming like it always had. The diner was nearly empty at this hour, just a few night owls hunched over coffee. They slid into their old booth by the window, cracked vinyl seats creaking under them.

For a moment, it was like no time had passed.

Johnny drummed his fingers on the table. “Bet you five bucks the waitress still remembers our order.”

Sure enough, when she appeared with a notepad, Johnny didn’t even have to ask. “Two burgers, extra cheese. One chocolate shake, one vanilla. Fries to share,” she recited, smiling like they were still those reckless kids sneaking in past curfew.

Johnny shot her a triumphant look once the waitress left. “Told you.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest said otherwise.

When the food came, Johnny immediately shoved the vanilla shake toward her, just like he used to, and stole the first handful of fries before she could protest.

“Some things never change,” she muttered, laughing when he winked.

They ate slowly, falling into easy conversation—memories of high school pranks, late-night drives with the windows down, arguments about music that ended in laughter. It wasn’t polished or fancy, but it was theirs, a reminder of where they’d started.

Halfway through his burger, Johnny leaned back, studying her across the table with a softness that hadn’t been there all those years ago. “Y’know, I used to bring you here because it was the only place open after midnight.”

She raised a brow. “And now?”

He smirked, reaching across to steal another fry. “Now I bring you here because I can’t imagine sharing a booth with anyone else.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head, smiling into her shake. Johnny grinned, satisfied, before adding quietly, “Guess some habits are worth keeping.”

Outside, the neon sign kept buzzing, the night rolling on. And inside that little diner booth, with burgers and milkshakes and laughter between them, it felt like no time—and all the time—had passed at once.

[haileyb444]

Inescapable

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: After a fight drives her to storm out, the separation pain between soulmates pushes Johnny to admit he’d rather suffer forever than lose her for real.

The fight started small.

Something about dishes, about Johnny forgetting again, about her snapping a little too sharply after a long day. Normally, it would’ve fizzled out in minutes—Johnny cracking a joke, her rolling her eyes, both of them moving on.

But tonight, exhaustion weighed heavy on them both, turning every word into kindling.

“Maybe if you actually listened once in a while—”

“Don’t start with me, babe, I’ve had a hell of a day—”

“Well, so have I!”

Her voice cracked, sharp enough to slice through the room. And then silence.

She grabbed her coat, hands shaking. “I need air.”

“Wait—” Johnny reached for her, but she was already at the door.

The slam echoed in his chest like a gunshot.

For a few seconds, he just stood there, breathing hard, telling himself she’d walk it off. That she’d come back in ten minutes with a muttered apology and everything would be fine.

But then it hit.

The ache.

It started as a dull throb in his ribs, then sharpened, tightening until every breath was a struggle. His knees buckled, one hand braced against the counter, the other clutching his chest like he could hold himself together.

“God—” he gasped, staggering back, panic clawing at his throat. The pain wasn’t just his. He knew it—knew she was out there, feeling it too, hurting just as badly.

“Damn it, no—” Johnny stumbled for the door, wrenching it open and sprinting into the hall. He didn’t care where she’d gone, didn’t care how far. His body moved on instinct, every step pulled toward her like a magnet.

He found her two blocks away, standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself against the night air. Her face was pale, her eyes wet, but she straightened when she saw him, lips parting.

“Johnny—”

He didn’t let her finish. He crashed into her, arms crushing her close, burying his face in her shoulder. The pain vanished the instant he touched her, replaced by the frantic thrum of their hearts syncing again.

“Don’t—don’t ever do that,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I thought—I thought I was gonna—”

Her hands clung to his shirt, trembling. “I felt it too. It hurt so bad, Johnny—”

“I don’t care about the fight,” he said, pulling back just enough to grip her face in his hands, his blue eyes blazing with desperation. “I don’t care if we scream, if we slam doors, if we drive each other crazy. I’d rather suffer forever than lose you for real. You hear me?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she nodded, pressing her forehead against his. “I hear you.”

He kissed her then—desperate, messy, all teeth and salt and love—because words weren’t enough to seal the promise.

When they finally pulled back, Johnny kept her close, his thumb brushing the damp trails on her skin.

“You’re inescapable,” he whispered, voice steady now. “And thank God for that.”