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Note: This blog is 18+. Minors, please do not interact (MDNI). My inbox is open, feel free to send me a request! Just keep in mind that I write for fun and canât promise to fulfill every request, and since Iâm a slow writer, it might take a while if I do.
Characters I write for (Highlighted in RED are personal favourites):
cw: dick grayson x gn!reader, suggestive, slight insecurity, established relationship
âDo you wanna have sex?â you blurt out, your legs draped over his lap as the TV drones on.
Dickâs eyes widen, his head snapping toward you. The hand that had been rubbing up and down your calf tenses.
âSorry, what was that, babe?â
With your cheeks aflame and heart pounding in embarrassment, you mutter, âSex. The thing people doââ
He cuts you off. âI know what that isâŠâ he says slowly. âBut whereâs this coming from?â
He knows you too wellâ knows that something this sudden wouldnât come out of your mouth if it hadnât been bothering you.
You clear your throat, eyes glued to the TV. His hand on your leg doesnât help. The warmth meant to be comforting is only a reminder of something youâre not sure you can give him.
âI donât know⊠itâs just⊠arenât you boredâŠ?â What you donât add is with me.
âBored?â he says, voice just as tight as his grip now. âIs that what you think? That I need sex to stay interested in you?â
âWell, noââ
He moves you before you can finish, hands easily gripping both your thighs and sliding you onto his lap so youâre straddling him. Your hands fall onto his shoulders.
âDickââ
âI donât need anything from you,â he mutters, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.
Your lashes flutter, breath catching at his gentleness.
âWhat if I want to give it? What if I want to make you feel good?â you ask nervously, your cheek leaning into his palm like a puppy asking for more attention.
His lips pull into a dazzling grin that momentarily leaves you lost in his gorgeousness.
âYeah? You wanna make me feel good?â The low, sultry way he says it sends a shiver straight through you.
Swallowing, you slowly nod.
âWell⊠only if I get to make you feel good first, baby. And only if you want me to.â
Your fingers curl into his shirt as you struggle to find words.
"Come on, honey, talk to me. What do you want me to do to you?" His fingers brush your hair back. You resisted the urge to bury your face in his shoulder and hide.
"I dunnoâŠ"Â
âTell you what,â he murmurs. âIâll take my time with you⊠and you tell me what you like? Yeah?"
Hello! I have a request specifically for Arthur Morgan.
Reader is a female with short hair could be like buzzed short or just a bob haircut. Obviously, back then that wasn't common or really accepted for women. So, what would it be like for Arthur to date or crush on a woman like that?
Feel free to run away with the idea. Alright, thank you! đ
In the swamp, afternoon hangs heavy like a noose. Sweat-slick limbs sag at your sides as you move through camp with the spirit of molasses. Days like these, the air is so thick you can't hardly breathe and no one â no one â is happy.
By noontime even Miss Grimshaw is forced to retire her more militant impulses as the lot of you seek shaded reprieves where you can; under canvas; under trees; in the molting carcass of the dilapidated plantation house you now call home.
"I'm cuttin' it off." You announce to no one in particular as you sulk through the moldy foyer.
"What? Micah's penis?" Karen slurs from a cot in the corner, bottle-deep and half-asleep.
"Not this time." You mutter.
Mary-Beth looks up from her book with a tragic expression. "Oh, no. You don't mean your hair."
Your thick, waist-length curls once inspired envy and admiration â but as of late, they mostly tested the fragmented strains of your sanity.
"I can't stand it, in this heat!" You complain, pulling it miserably into a handheld ponytail to relieve the dampened nape of your neck. "The sweat, the itch, the knots â I want it gone."
"You could try braidin' it." Tilly offers helpfully from the settee. "Before doin' anything drastic..."
"She's right," says Mary-Beth, twirling one of her own ringlets on her finger as if it was hers on the proverbial chopping block. "Hair like that'll take an awful long time to grow back..."
But your mind is made.
It's no simple task, spindling your locks into sloppily plaited sections, reminding you of the way Pearson hangs a carcass to butcher. This isnât the first time youâve taken action under the influence of impulsivity, and as you brace the edge of your knife at the top of one such braid, you reckon it wonât be the last.
âAny last words?â You murmur to your reflection in the cracked pocket mirror.
You donât wait for a reply.
Itâs not so clean a cut as one would hope. Was it the damn blade, dull enough to make you saw through the hair like stubborn lumber? Like an infected limb? With an almighty effort the first braid comes loose in your fist and you stare at it, dumbstruck.
Oh, Lord. What have I done?
You chance a look in the mirror, heart sinking like a gator in muck.
Itâll look better once itâs finished. Steeling your resolve, you set to work on the next section. Then the next. The sun plunges orange behind the moss-heavy trees and you're not done until your arm aches and piles of hair encircle your feet, sweatier than you were at the start.
The hair curls tight and uneven an inch or two beneath your ears with errant, serrated strands clinging to your neck and shoulders as if hoping to plug themselves back where they belong. You run your fingers through the new length, unexpectedly unnerved by just how little remains.
The others are quick to let you know what they think.
Uncle feigns a heart attack. Bill accuses you of looking like a man, though he seems vaguely confused as to how he feels about it. Javier and Lenny both avert their gazes with Charles giving you the welcome courtesy of indifference. "Like a hammer to a marble statue," laments Dutch in passing, and Miss Grimshaw is predictably harsh, seeming most offended that you'd waste the hours that could've been devoted to chores, "destroying yourself." Sadie comes to your defense, declaring that she's half a mind to do the same to her own hair in this damnable heat. But Mary-Beth just looks sad, wringing her hands with the effort of holding her tongue.
Abigail is perhaps kindest of all. Assuring you, âit ain't all bad," she quietly offers to clean up the back a bit with a pair of shears. You take her up on it, retreating to the privacy of her room upstairs where you sit on a rickety stool, dejected, while she does her best to salvage your mess.
Jack looks on with childlike curiosity as he plays with a bent soup ladle on the boar hide rug. "I thought short hair was just for boys."
"Girls can do whatever they like, Jack." His mother tells him with stern patience from behind you, her brow furrowed in concentration. "...Within reason, I guess..."
Heavy boots creak up the staircase.
You flinch inwardly. Abigail, sensing this, seems to position herself in such a way as to shield you from view.
"Uncle Arthur!" The boy springs to his feet.
The light jingle of spurs comes to a halt in the hall.
"Hey, kid." Arthur greets in a warm rumble, reaching through the gaping hole in the wall to ruffle Jack's hair. "What'chu got there?"
"A big spoon," Jack says with enthusiasm, tilting the ladle to display its rusted underbelly. "I found it outside."
"Sure. You cookin' somethin' for your momma with that?"
"Uh-uh. She said it's not clean to eat with for real. Just pretend."
"Tell your momma that spoon ain't seen nothin' nastier than what she feeds you outta the stew pot."
Abigail snorts. "Tell her yourself!"
You hear the shift of leather as Arthur bends to peer into the room, when his eyes fall first on Abigail, then the pair of shears in her hand, and then you. He does a double take, then a triple, his jaw loose.
Don't, you silently plea from your seat.
You and Arthur are sweet on one another in the way that moons might be; perpetually in orbit, never to touch. As pretty an idea as it would be to surrender to the gravity between you, there's an unspoken understanding that the cataclysmic potential for that collision outweighs the discomfort of keeping your distance. With mounting bounties on his head? Pinkertons breathing down all your necks? Why be the match that blows this tinderbox to smithereens?
Still, you know that Arthur is as capable of cruelty as he is kindness and on any given day, you do not take for granted which side of the scales you happen to fall.
Arthur clears his throat, mutters a polite, "Ladies," and shuffles out of sight.
When Abigail's finished, the frogs and cicadas are in full-throated chorus.
"Much better." She assures you, brushing the snipped remains off your shoulders before sending Jack off to find a broom. You take her word for it and offer your thanks, stepping morosely into the hall, full of dread for the comments that await you downstairs.
Before you have half a chance to round the corner, a whistle from the smallest bedroom stops you in your tracks.
With gritted teeth, you turn on your heel and march to Arthur's room, standing firm in the doorway as you fix him with a warning glare.
"That better've been a horse you were whistlin' for and not me."
Arthur sits at the edge of his cot, journal splayed open across his thigh. Likely as anything, he'd been in the saddle since dawn and his skin shines with sweat in the light of the oil lamp, cheeks freshly ruddy from a day in the Lemoyne sun.
"You came, didn't ya?" He dryly replies.
You fold your arms. "If you're fixin' to make fun of me like the rest of 'em, then you can justâ"
"Don't'chu be puttin' words in my mouth, woman." He interjects, voice low but not unkind. Rising to his feet, he closes his journal and sets it on the table, taking a few cautious steps in your direction. You find yourself avoiding the corner of the room in your periphery, lest you catch your reflection in the small shaving mirror.
He juts his chin at you. "So, uh...what happened?"
Your eyes narrow. "What do you mean, what happened? I cut my hair."
"I can see that," he says tersely. But then he softens, blue-green eyes drawn to you as if magnetized. "Just...ain't ever seen a lady with...well..."
You still, holding your breath as he lifts his hand, hesitating, the air growing thick between you in a way that has nothing to do with the humidity.
"Sânice." He quietly marvels. Thick fingers stroke slow against your scalp, gentle as they thread through your hair with a graceless reverence. "Feel like I can really see you. Proper, I mean."
Your pulse gallops. You swallow, eyelids fluttering at his touch. âI look like a sprig of alfalfa.â
He tucks a lock behind your ear. âPretty cute, for cow feed.â
A soft laugh escapes your lips, your gaze falling shyly along with his hand. He rests them both on his gun belt as if that's the most trustworthy place for them to be at present.
âI ainât sure I like it yet.â You admit, glancing up at him vulnerably through your lashes. âJustâŠwanted some damn relief from the heatâŠâ
"Sure, but it grows back, don't it?" He offers as brusque encouragement, giving you a crooked smirk. "Hell, maybe now thatâchu got allâa that mess out your face, you can finally shoot straight.â
"Shut up." You smile and turn to leave, lest your impulsiveness lands you in further trouble. âGood night, Arthur.â
âHey.â
You pause in the hall, watching as he leans his bulk against the rotted doorframe.
âAnybody else gives you a lick of trouble, you come find me, yâhear?â
You bite your lip, warmth blooming in your chest. âI can handle my own bullies, Mr. Morgan.â
He tilts his head to give you a look of playful warning from beneath his brow. âThat ainât what I said, and I know I didnât stutter. Now are you gonna listen tâme, or what?â
You surrender with a smile. âAlright. I will.â
âGood girl.â
Arthur disappears into his room as you do down the hall, a new weightlessness in your gait. And as you float downstairs and step out into the uncommonly cool night, you feel the breeze kiss the back of your neck like a lover and smile.
taglist: @anotheroutlaw ; @babygirlarthur ; @everlongingheart ; @photo1030 ; @strawberryblossom29 ; @stupidgaynerd ; @thedilfdiaries ; @thorst ; @thundermartini ; @vickylamborghini (tysm for your interest and support! pls lmk if you want to be added or removed for next time!)
‿ ARTHUR MORGAN knows you're good at what you do... he also knows you look damn good doing it. Lucky for you, that means you two often work together and you get to.. admire your partner in crime.
!! flirty. reader and arthur are soooo into each other. fem reader. FIRST ARTHUR MORGAN WOO. suggestive dialogue. tension is off the charts between you two. ENJOY.
The snow crunched under your boots as you crouched low beside a set of fresh tracks, fingers brushing the edge of a bootprint half-sunk in the frost. The wind bit at your cheeks, sharp and dry, carrying the scent of pine and distant smoke. You squinted at the trail, lips curling into a grin.
âLimping,â you said, tapping the heel mark. âFavoring his left side. Probably twisted something trying to outrun his own damn luck.â
Arthur Morgan stood a few feet behind you, arms folded, his coat pulled tight against the cold. He didnât crouch, didnât lean in, just watched you with that steady, unreadable stare, and his jaw set beneath the scruff of his beard.
âYou always narrate like that?â he muttered, voice low and gravelly. âOr is the ground just real good company?â
You glanced over your shoulder, smirking. âBetter company than some grumpy cowboys I know.â
Arthur snorted, the sound short and dry. âGrumpyâs what keeps me alive.â
You rose to your feet, brushing snow from your knees, and turned to face him fully. âYou know, if you smiled once in a while, I bet youâd be real pretty.â
He didnât smile, but his eyes flicked down your frame, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle beneath your coat.
âI ainât here to be pretty,â he said, voice rough. âIâm here to catch a bastard.â
You stepped closer, boots crunching softly, tilting your head with a a small smile. âCanât a girl enjoy the view while she works?â
Arthur didnât answer. He just shifted his weight, gaze steady, and reached out to adjust the scarf at your neck â fingers brushing your collarbone, brief but firm. Then he turned, heading down the trail without another word.
You blinked, heart skipping, then followed with a laugh. âYou always flirt like a damn bear, Morgan?â
He didnât look back. âI donât flirt.â
âSure you donât,â you said, catching up beside him. âYou just touch me for no reason and stare like youâre sizing me up for a painting.â
Arthur grunted. âYou talk too much.â
âAnd you like it.â He didnât deny it.
The trail curved through the trees, bootprints weaving between rocks and brush. You moved ahead, scanning for where the man with a bounty on his head could've ended up, while Arthur kept pace behind you. He was silent, watchful, and always a step close enough to catch you if you slipped.
You felt him there. Not just his presence, but the way his eyes tracked your movements. The way his hand hovered near your back when the terrain got steep. He didnât say much, but admittedly he didnât need to.
Then, you spotted movement ahead. It was just a flicker, a shadow limping through the brush, but you immediately lifted a hand to signal Arthur, who's guard immediately raised.
âThere,â you whispered, crouching low behind a fallen log. âHeâs dragging his leg. Probably thinks he lost us.â
Arthur knelt beside you, his coat brushing your arm, eyes narrowing as he tracked the man. âMoronâs headed straight for a dead end.â
You glanced over at your partner then forward again with a small, confident, smile. âPerfect.â
Without waiting for a cue, you slipped around the log and moved through the trees like a shadow, boots silent against the frozen ground. Arthur followed, a few paces behind, his revolver already drawn. The bounty was a scraggly man with a busted knee and a face like a kicked-in lantern, who unfortunately turned just in time to see you step into the clearing.
âDonât try it,â you warned sharply as the barrel of your pistol made eye contact with him.
He reached for his gun anyway, and unfortunately for him, you fired first.
The shot hit clean, right in the shoulder.. causing him to spin, drop, and hit the ground with a grunt that echoed through the trees.Arthur was already moving, holstering his weapon and striding over like heâd done this a hundred times. Which, of course, he had.
You watched as he knelt beside the man, muttering something low and unkind, then hauled him up with one arm like he weighed nothing. The bounty cursed, struggling weakly, but Arthur didnât flinch. He just slung the man over his shoulder, one hand gripping the back of his coat, the other bracing against his thigh.
And thatâs when you saw it.
The way Arthurâs shirt stretched across his shoulders. The way his biceps flexed beneath the worn fabric, taut and solid, veins standing out against his forearms. His coat had slipped open just enough to give you a full view of the muscle working beneath, and your eyebrows almost immediately raised as you bit back a small grin.
âWell damn,â you murmured, loud enough for him to hear. âYou always carry your prizes like that, Morgan?â
Arthur glanced over at you, brow furrowed. âYou want me to drag him by the damn ankle?â
You shrugged, eyes trailing down his arm again. âJust saying, if you ever get tired of bounty hunting, you could make a killing hauling lumber shirtless.â
Arthur snorted, adjusting the weight on his shoulder. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âAnd youâre strong,â you said, walking beside him now, letting your gaze linger. âReal strong.â
He didnât respond, but his ears turned pink beneath the brim of his hat. You winked when he gave you a questioning look. âIâm just admiring the craftsmanship.â
Arthur grunted. âYou admirinâ my damn shirt or whatâs under it?â
âWouldnât you like to know.â
He didnât answer, but you caught the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He shifted the bountyâs weight again, and you swore he flexed just a little harder.
The walk back to the horses was quiet, except for the occasional groan from the man slung over Arthurâs shoulder. You stayed close, watching the way Arthur moved in that steady, grounded way he did.. like the earth itself bent around him.
And you were starting to think that maybe trouble wasnât just something you chased. Maybe it was something you wanted to catch.
two dollars, a hat, and a dime - arthur morgan x reader
The first time you did it, Arthur didn't even think you were thinking what it meant.
He'd been helping with the firewood when you had passed from behind him, and you'd mumbled out his name in a quick greeting before pausing, and as Arthur had started turning around to ask if you needed something, you'd already taken what you needed.
"Thanks." You hum, taking his hat from his head under the blazing heat of the sun, fanning your face with it a few times before you pop it on your head and head off with the bucket to fill up the camp bath.
He turns around just in time to see the sway of your hips as you walk down to the lake, his hat sitting on your head as he processes what you've just done.
what.
He's certain you're slightly more aware of what it meant the second time you do it â it had been some time since you had, after all. You'd apologized for taking his hat without thinking twice, returning it to him after you'd finished filling the bath, placing the hat back on his head. He'd nodded without word, worried the strain in his voice would cause you to glance at the matching strain in his pants.
The second time it happened, the two of you had been in town. He'd been picking out new clothes, and you'd needed a new hat.
He'd watched you as you'd taken his hat from the barber's hat rack, waving at Arthur without looking back.
"'m gonna borrow that real quick!"
He doesn't move, worried the barber'll mess up his hair and sighs.
"Does theâ"
"I'm not sure."
Sure enough, a day later, you'd shown up with a similar hat to his, your name carved into the inside of the accessory when you'd shown him with a quick bow and nod.
"Looks good, sweetheart." He nods, tipping his hat in reciprocation. "Y'gotta stop stealing my hat, though."
"Why?" You reach up to flip his hat off his head as you pop yours onto his head, and he sighs.
"Y'know the saying?"
"I'd owe you well over three rides at this point." You tilt your head, and he sucks in a breath of air through his teeth.
"'s that an invitation?"
You grin up at Arthur, head tilted as you press two fingers to his belt.
love how much attention this post is getting i knew the gay people in my phone would understand me. btw here's the picture that inspired me to make this post in the first place:
X-Men update yâall! Iâve had requests for Cyclops and for a Jean and Scott pair so I made these for yâall! Shop is here.
Iâm currently out of stock of Phoenix-Jean, but if I can restock them I will! In the mean time you can use code TUMBLR15 in the shop for most accessories, including all X-Men earrings!
And here is every other pair of X-Men earrings in my shop. Since weâre here. đ€Ł
more below the cut!
Let me know what other X-Men earrings youâd like to see and Iâll see what I can do! Hope you love these. Shop is here. đ
i just feel like heâs so used to having demanding and shameless partners (talia, selina, the rest of his roster, probably half the justice league) itâd be a switch up to have someone soft spoken. someone who doesnât demand his attention and just waits for him to come home before sunrise, bored and sleepy when he comes up to bed.
and it takes him a while to adjust to you. your soft spoken behaviour, gentle smiles, patience, kisses when he climbs into bed, down his spine that lead to nothing but you showing how much you care about him. nothing he was used to anymore.
and then he finds himself looking forward to getting off patrol, to getting to you and your warm hugs and cold hands against his abs, cuddling him close while you sleep.
he looks forward to seeing you curled up in his chair in the batcave, dressed in one of his shirts, half asleep but there because you couldnât help but worry about him. he canât wait to scoop you up into his arms and carry you up the stairs to bed because thatâs what you deserve. to be loved and cherished and treated with the same tenderness you gave him.
he enjoys how shy you tend to be when you want something from him. which isnât often because youâre satisfied with just having him â another thing he loves.
he keeps a hand under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes when you need to say something, you feel bad for asking him for anything because thatâs how you are. but bruce would give you whatever you wanted, if you ever so much as think of it.
new set of jewellery? done.
you want those pretty heels that go with your new dress? check your closet.
but youâre not materialistic like his ex-flings, donât care much for his wealth and his name, you only care about the man who comes home to you at odd hours of the day and settles himself only in your arms because thatâs where he belongs.
nsfw under the cut
and sometimes, heâll come home and settle himself between your thighs, starting out innocent, the picture of a tired business man coming home to his loving girl after a long day. heâll press kisses along your thighs, hum hoarsely, let you feel the press of his teeth âplayfullyâ before another kiss lands there too. heâll make a show out of it, pretending like he isnât going to do what you know will inevitably come.
soon â because heâs impatient â heâll be kissing over your cotton panties, pretending to not notice the way your thighs shift around his head before pressing his tongue against the fabric, letting the saliva coated on there transfer onto your panties.
and heâll repeat this, over and over again, aiming to catch you off guard when he actually starts.
and when he does? youâre really in for it.
itâs no surprise that bruce isnât great with his words, he prefers actions, gifts, sex. to show you what he hopes you already know.
sure, youâre definitely a little â a lot â shy when it comes to him. quiet in a way his mind needs, no constant nagging for his attention, just patience and carefully placed touches.
but heâs on a mission to make you as loud as possible for him in moments like these. he wants to hear you gasp, to hear his name on your tongue like a prayer, desperate for anything he might give you. and bruce gives, with you? he canât stop giving.
its a thanks and a confession wrapped into one.
heâs gruff, grunting into your ear with every thrust, every move of his hips against yours, every feel of you clenching around him has him making sounds he didnât even realise.
he was letting out. his fingers, nimble and certain, rub circles into your clit because heâll be damned if he cums before you do â he has before and heâs never stopped trying to make it up to you despite you not minding.
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
Word Count: 17,433 words
Requests are open! : ÌÌâ Find my masterlist here
âWe need to adjust the parameters for this. Thereâs a few more levels that I want to adjust, to ensure that weâve scanned the baby for all possible anomalies,â
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 âpinch meâ moment. Of course, he didnât want an assistant, it was thrust upon him by his wife, but you liked to think after all this time youâd wormed your way into his heart.
Working with ReedâŠwas something else entirely. It was a learning curve, understanding just how the manâs brain worked. Even to this day, you werenât sure you understood it. Even when things went perfectly, when test runs on prototypes worked out better than you couldâve 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, thoughâwith patience and understandingâyou managed to find the best way to work around Reedâs 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.
Reedâs 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 youâd 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 StormâŠwas the bane of your existence, in the best way.
âWrong address, sweetheart. The modeling agency is two blocks down. I could escort you over there, if youâd like?â
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 heâd 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 heâd 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 âlove for womenâ.
And, oh, how you wished his empty, blatant flirting with you didnât bring a blush to your cheeks every time, or make your heart skip a beat, but it did. Every single time, it did. You werenât 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 didnât 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.Â
Thatâs why when four of the closest people to you in life went up into space for Reedâs exploration mission, and came back cosmically changed forever, you never left their sides. They were your family, and family stuck together, no matter what.
âReed,â 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 heâd built in just a day, specifically to monitor the health of the baby growing inside of Sueâs stomach, as Herbie rocked back and forth beside him. âYouâve scanned Sue a thousand times at this point-â
âThatâs an exaggeration. Iâve scanned her 123 times-â
âThatâs not the point,â 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. âWe 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 weâve gotten nothing. Your baby is okay.â
âThere are still more tests to run,â
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, heâd 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.
âFine, but Iâm not breaking the news to Sue that you want to scan herâŠagain,â
âI 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 todayâs scan at the current parameters to compare the changes with,â Reed never looked in your direction, still fiddling with the machine in front of him. âYouâre staying for dinner, yes?â
âIâm making it,â 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. âApparently Sue has been craving spaghetti, and requested my family recipe.â
âYou canât argue with a pregnant woman,â Reed muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still never looked up. âIâll see you up there for dinner, then. Thereâs a few more tests that I want to run.â
âYou also have a meeting at 5:45 and one at 6:15,â 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. âCome on, Herb. An extra hand in the kitchen is always nice.â
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 youâd 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 didnât think any of them had left to attend to any âheroâ work.
You didnât 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.
âHey-!â
âYouâre going to spoil your appetite,â 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.
âCome on, Herbert, youâre supposed to take my side on these things!â 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. âBaby, you didnât tell me you were staying for dinner.â
When you told yourself that you werenât going to fall into the trap that was the charming and charismatic Johnny Storm, you werenât 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, loveâŠyou name it, Johnny called you it. Constantly. So constantly you were sure the blush on your cheeks was a permanent staple. Heâd even once called you his little flameâthat had been met with the tip of your heel being dug into his foot.
The second thing you werenât prepared for: touch. Johnny Storm didnât 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 Johnnyâs 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 didnât give you away.
âWhen your pregnant sister has cravings for my personal family recipe spaghetti, Iâm required to oblige her,â
âI asked you to make this for me two weeks ago and you refused,â
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 werenât going to lieâŠif he wanted to be, he could be) but you saw him for what he was: the epitome of a little golden retriever at times.
âWell you arenât a hormonal pregnant woman with super powers,â you shot back at him, taking the opened jar of spaghetti sauce from Herbieâs 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.
âNo, but Johnny is a hormonal guy with super powers, who adores your cooking,â 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. âJohnny also happens to just adore you, and loves when you stay for dinner.â
You had given up on the blush by now. Heâd 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.
âJohnny also talks in the third person too much, and is an insufferable flirt half the time,â 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 heâd dipped in. âWhat have I told you about doing that!â
Heâd laughed, one of your favorite sounds, as you glanced over at him with a bright smile, unable to truly stay mad at himâŠever.
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.
âNot sure, baby, that look youâre giving me right now doesnât scream that Iâm insufferable-â
âOh, thatâs exactly what itâs screaming,â 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. âIf youâre not going to help, you can leave this kitchen. I donât care if you live here.â
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.
âYou basically live here, too,â
âI donât-â
âYeah, because you keep refusing the room that Sue prepared for you,â
HeâŠwasnât 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 sheâd 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 wasnât 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 youâd need them.
âThis place is your home, not mine,â you didnât look at Johnny as you spoke, simply shaking your head as you stirred both the sauce and the noodles in their respective pots. âIâm Reedâs assistant, Iâm not family-â
âStop it,â
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.
âJohnny-â
âYou are family, whether you like it or not,â the statement didnât surprise you, it wasnât 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. âThereâs not a thing I wouldnât do for you.â
That was new. He hadnât made a declaration like that to you before.
It was something about the look in his eyes as he said itâso genuine, so softâthat 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 didnât 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 didnât. Johnny wasnât pictured out with as many women anymore, wasnât brazenly caught flirting with anyone with legs and a pulse at events. And in moments like this, even in front of his family, heâd 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 Stormâs friend and something entirely more was practically non-existent now.
âYou say that to all your women?â 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 Johnnyâs face returned in a second, his fingers instead pinching the cheek heâd just been so softly caressing.
âNever, honey. Those words are reserved for my brother-in-lawâs pretty little assistant,â
In typical Johnny fashion, he was able to dissolve and ruin whatever the moment was in an instant with his usual âcharmâ. 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 youâd heard on the radio behind you.
âYou always have a line, donât you?â
âHey, you know what you signed up for, being friends with all this,â 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. âAs 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.â
You hummed in response, even if you were smiling the entire time just from listening to him talk.
âThis sounds like an impromptu movie night-â
âAll of our movie nights are impromptu, babe-â
âI saw earlier that channel 2 is playing The Sound of Music tonight,â you shot back at him, finally looking up at him with an expectant look on your face. âThatâs what I want to watch.â
Johnny groaned, throwing his head back and knocking it against the cupboards with a wince on his face. You couldnât help but chuckle at his overdramatic antics, as usual.
âBut channel 3 is showing Psycho!â
âAnd you dipped your handâwhich, god knows where that thing might have beenâinto my sauce for dinner,â
Johnny opened his mouth to speak, before mulling over your words, and effectively shutting it with a nod.
âYou know what, if it gets you to have a movie night with me, then Iâll take it,â
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.Â
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.
âAlright, give it a taste,â
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.
âAs alwaysâŠperfection. Though, I expect nothing less from you,â
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 heâd 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.
â...am I interrupting something?â
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.
âActually, sis, you very much are interrupting something here,â Johnny called out across the room, and you could see him gesturing with his hands between you both from the corners of your vision.
âJohnny,â you rolled your eyes, glancing over at him with flushed red cheeks from what had just transpired. âSue isnât interrupting anything.â
âShe kind of is. We were kind of having a moment here-â
âJohnny, we were not having a moment,â
You very much were having a moment, but you werenât 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.
âJohnny, why donât you go get cleaned up for dinner and stop bothering the poor girl. Bad enough Iâm making her cook for me, she doesnât need you hovering,â
The man let out a sigh, muttering something mocking toward his sister, as he threw himself off the counter with dramatic flair. He wasnât 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 Herbieâs 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.
âThere was nothing happening there,â
âI didnât say there was,â
âBut youâre giving me that look,â
âIâm not giving you any kind of look,â the blonde laughed, stepping up beside you to take the wooden spoon from your hand, tasting the sauce herself with a happy little sigh. âJustâŠenjoying watching the show from the sidelines, waiting for one of you to make a move.â
âSue, thereâs no move to make. Heâs justâŠheâs Johnny,â
âAnd Johnny is my brother,â she shot back with a grin. âAnd Johnny has never been like that with someone, just with you.â
You didnât 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.
âHERBIE! THATâS SO INAPPROPRIATE!â
â€ïž
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.
âIâm not getting clear imaging,â Reed called out from the other side of the lab, the only sound in the room being the incessant beeping of the machine heâd 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. âIâm going to have Herbie recalibrate this, I donât like the data output Iâm getting, I want a clear image on the next scan. Is the second bridge device ready?â
âJust finished fixing the soldering on the stand, so it should be good to go,â you shot back, tossing your eye protectors down at your workstation, lifting the device carefully and carrying it over to Reedâs station, setting it down with the matching device. âAnd, once again, you really donât need to scan the baby again.â
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.
âNew deep space transmission,â there was a hint of elation in Reedâs tone as he said it, quickening his pace across the room with Herbie hot on his trail. âLetâs identify the origin, then record it for further analysis.â
Quickly walking back over to your workstation, your eyes drifted to that desk calendar sitting next to you, and to todayâs date: a poorly drawn flame, and the time â2:15â scribbled in a barely legible handwriting that you recognized instantly. Even if you hadnât, the terribly drawn heart with your initials in it scribbled in the corner wouldâve given it away.
âYour analysis is going to have to wait, Reed,â you called out with a sigh, knowing you werenât the one who put this meeting on the calendar, but you sure knew who had. âYou have a 2:15 incoming.â
â2:15? What 2:15?â Reed never even looked in your direction, focused on the new transmission. âYou didnât tell me there was anything on my calendar.â
âWell, I didnât put this one on the calendar myself, but you must have cleared it at some pointâŠâ
Just then, the elevator doors to the lab popped open with a familiar ding sound.
âAhâReed!â
Good god, Johnny Storm was trying to kill you. You werenât even sure if that was an exaggeration at this point, because you wouldnât 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 âkeep it professional.â It didnât help that the first few buttons were already undone, giving a slight peak to his chest. The white chinosâthose 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.
âAhâŠthat 2:15,â you tried your best to conceal your laugh at Reedâs comment across the lab. âJohnny, do we have to today?â
âJohnny, do we have to today? As if I didnât ask to put it on the schedule,â 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. âDarling, have I ever told you how breathtaking you look in your lab coat?â
âItâs a white coat, Johnny, itâs nothing special,â 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.
âBut the girl wearing it is-â
âJohnny, do you want to have this meeting or do you want to flirt with my assistant?â
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.
âThereâs enough time in the day to do both! No, I had some thoughts about the new suit designs,â
âThere are no new space suit designs-â
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.
âYou finished them years agoâŠthey have dust on them,â Johnny deadpanned, letting out a sigh as Reed took the design sheet from him. âLook, I get it. Youâre going to be a father soon, youâre scared-â
âIâm not-Iâm not scared,â Reed cut in immediately, and you could hear the anxious undertone that overtook him immediately at Johnnyâs 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 Reedâs hands without a word and placing it on his chalkboard full of equations. âIâm-Iâm busy, Johnny. Iâm busy. Iâm busy, thereâs a difference.â
âHe means busy on his pace to scan Sue at least 200 times before she gives birth,â you shot back, sending Reed a bright smile that he frowned at, clearly seeing that you were siding with Johnny here. âNot terrified of becoming a father at all, those two things definitely donât correlate.â
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 Herbieâs direction.
âJust handle the new deep space transmission, please, instead of ganging up on me with Johnny,â
You laughed, heels clicking against the floors of the lab as you joined Herbieâs 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.
âHave you listened to it yet?â
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 hadnât already.
âSeems to be a lot more of the same, just another complex signal,â 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. âYouâre more than welcome to take it with you, give it a listen.â
He twirled the record in his hands with a grin, absentmindedly reaching out to scratch the top of Herbieâs head. That simple little action elicited a giggle, hand coming up to cover your mouth as Johnny glanced up at you with a smirk.
âWhatâs so funny?â
âHerbie isnât a dog, and yet you treat him like one,â you explained, stepping up just in front of him and grabbing his hand lightly, stopping the twirling of the record in his hands. âAlso, you do know you arenât supposed to get your fingerprints all over these, right?â
It was Johnnyâs 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 didnât 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.
âJohnny, what have I told you about flirting in my lab? I need my assistant, weâre trying to run a test,â
The moment was gone in seconds, your hand dropped from Johnnyâs 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.
âCool! I got time,â
Reed didnât 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 youâd 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.
âBridge teleportation test one,â 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. âMovement of organic matter six meters.â
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.
âThose are his pair, you canât touch his pair,â 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.
âLetâs run it,â
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 POPâand 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.
âIt worked!â Johnny exclaimed, gesturing toward the egg.
Thatâs when the power to the building cut out.
It wasnât 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 outageâŠnot what you were expecting. Not that you could write that note down in the pitch black of the room.
âJohnny,â Reedâs 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. âCould you reset the breaker?â
Youâd 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 didnât spare either of you another look, crossing the room to grab the record.
âOther way-â
âI know,â 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.
âIâve upset him,â
Reed didnât 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.
âWell, he went out of his way to put time on your calendar just to talk to you about the suits, and you did dismiss himâŠâ you trailed off as you reached your station, eyes flickering back down to that desk calendar beside you. You couldnât 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. âJohnny loves space, he only got to go up once beforeâŠthis all happened. You canât blame him for wanting to go back.â
It was quiet for another moment in the lab, before Reed spoke up again.
âYou know him wellâŠbetter than I think I do,â
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.
âI-I just listen to him. I always listen,â
It was quiet again.
âGo check on him,â was all Reed said. âIf thereâs anyone heâd want to talk to right now, itâs you.â
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.
Johnnyâs 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. Benâs 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 youâd been in these hallways enough to know it like the back of your hand. To know it like it was your own home.Â
There were countless nights, before youâd make the short walk back to your apartment, where Johnny had coerced you into movie nights in his room. Heâd never try anything, never push you into something, always leaving the door open to make sure you knew he wasnât 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 didnât 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 wasnât 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 youâd found him in before: leaning against the floor to ceiling windows of his room, staring out at the spaceship he hadnât 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.
âYou know,â 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. âI donât think deep space transmissions are the right background music if youâre going to stare longingly out your window.â
Johnny laughed in a huff, turning on his heel to flick through his record collection.
âAnd suggestions then for a melancholic moment such as this?â
âElvis typically has some hits that can set that mood,â
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 youâd 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 wrongâŠyou 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 couldnât 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.
âReed send you to check on me?â 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.
âTechnically, but I wouldâve come on my own,â 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. âCome on, matchstick, talk to me.â
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.
âI donât knowâŠitâs stupid. Last time we went up, we came back with superpowers, trust me, I get that. Now, heâs got a kid on the way. But I knowâI knowâthat he knows how much space means to me. So, when he just dismisses me like that-â
âIt makes you feel inadequate? Like youâre a child?â Johnnyâs gaze found you again as you shrugged with a light smile. âIâve 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 Reedâs never trying to make me feel like that.â
âI know heâs not doing it on purposeâŠdoesnât mean Iâm not going to shit talk him in the confines of these walls,â 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. âI love space. Simple as that.â
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.Â
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 didnât 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.
âI know you do. Youâll go back to space, Johnny, I promise,â
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 wasnât all just a game, that you werenât imaging moments for more than they were.
âWhat if I donât?â
âYouâre Johnny Storm, Iâve never seen you not get something you wanted before. Especially not something you want this bad,â
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.
âYouâre wrongâŠI think thereâs something I want more. Been trying to get it for awhile, butâŠshe just keeps slipping through my fingers somehow,â
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 youâd 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 werenât sure now if the flush crawling up your neck into your cheeks was from the moment, or from the heat radiating off of him.
âW-What are you doing?â
âWeâre dancing,â 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. âCanât turn on Elvis and not dance, I think thatâs a literal crime.â
âI didnât know you even knew how to dance,â
âOh, I donât, Sueâs been telling me for years that I have two left feet,â Johnny shot back, shooting a wink down at you as his hand readjusted its grip along your waist. âCanât be that hard with the prettiest girl in the building in my arms, right?â
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 couldnât quite decipher. If you could, you werenât sure you would survive knowing.Â
Faces just an inch away, the closest and most intimate moment youâd 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 youâd buried away so long ago and letting them flow.
âThis is an interesting little relationship you and I have, you know,â
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.
âSo typical of you, Storm,â
âWhat-? What did I do!â
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.
âYou went and killed the moment, Johnny, as per usual,â
â...so you admit it, we WERE having a moment!â
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 didnât.
âCome on! At least let me make it up to you. Will you stay for dinner?â
With a final glance cast over your shoulder toward him, you shot him a bright smile.
âIf youâre lucky, flame boy!â
â€ïž
Yeah, you really couldnât say no to Johnny Storm.
Not when heâd 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 wasnât shocking to see Ben in the kitchen, it seemed to be one of his happy places. You werenât 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.
âDecided to stay for dinner again?â 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.
âJohnny askedâŠand I decided to be nice and oblige him,â you didnât 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. âOh my god, did you go grab these from Maisieâs?â
âYes,â Ben waved your hand away when you went to reach for the cookies, producing another paper bag and sliding it your way. âThese ones are yours.â
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. Maisieâs 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.
âOh my god, I havenât had these in ages!â Ben and Sue both laughed at your excitement as you took another bite of the warm cookie in your hand. âHow did you know these were my favorites?â
Benâs smirk wasnât hard to miss at all.
âOh, I didnât. Johnny asked me to pick those up for you,â
It was probably time to accept that blushing around this family was the only thing you were capable of.
Sueâs laughter rang loudest as she rounded the island counter, high fiving Ben as she shot you a pointed look.
âYou really have my brother wrapped around your finger without even trying, huh? You know, before I went to get scannedâagainâin 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 Iâd peek inâŠâ
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 Sueâs laughter rang through the air again as you looked up, desperately waving your hands.
âI swear, it wasnât what it looked like-â
âWhat wasnât what it looked like?â
Of course, Johnny chose to make his grand entrance at that moment. Thankfully for you, heâd changed out of that ridiculously hot button up. Unfortunately for you, he was still wearing those god forsaken white chinos.
âYour little dance Sue was telling me about earlier,â Ben teased, easily catching your hand as it came up to whack him again in his rough, oversized one. âWhatâs with the long face?â
âOh that dance was exactly what it looked like. Thanks for coming to dinner though, sweetheart, glad you like the cookies,â Johnny tacked on a wink in your direction, one you affectionately rolled your eyes over, before his smile was back to a frown. âAnd what of it, Ben?â
âSounds like your 2:15 with Reed didnât go well. Iâm sorry, pal,â
From across the room, you could see Johnnyâs 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.
âHey, Iâm fine,â he spoke, though the edge in his words was clear as he did, coming to stand directly at your side. âI donât mind or anything, itâs just, uh-â
âI hear you, pal. Weâll go to space again,â
âThatâs what I was trying to tell him earlier,â you tacked on, bumping your hip with Johnnyâs, 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 cartoonâflame onâringing through the air as Reed entered the room, greeting his wife by the dining room table.
âThey captured my likeness so perfectly, donât you think?â he quipped, activating the catchphrase once again as you rolled your eyes. âDo you still have the one I gave you a few months ago?â
âYeah, buried in the junk drawer of my kitchen,â
Johnny feigned shock, pinching your side quickly as you squirmed away with a laugh.
âAt least upgrade me to your bedside table so I can be with you while you sleep,â that stupid line was accented with another wink before Johnny thrust the toy in Benâs face. âCome on, admit itâs cool.â
That catchphrase just kept repeating.
Iâm Johnny Storm! Flame On!
Flame On!
Flame On!
Ben grabbed the toy from Johnnyâs hand in seconds, crushing it to nothing but dust and blowing it back in Johnnyâs face with a smirk. You tried everything to conceal your laughter, but it was inevitable.
âFlame off!â
Sirens rang outside the balcony of the buildingâs 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.
âNo, no, itâs alright. This is me,â
Ben and Sue followed Reed out onto the balcony, but Johnny hung back, his gaze stuck on you as you hadnât moved from the kitchen. He simply tilted his head toward his family, holding his hand out for you. Such a simple move that shouldnât have kickstarted your heart into what was surely an irregular rhythm, but it did.
The second you were at his side, Johnnyâs 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.
âFor the past few months, Iâve been tracking a small number of criminal organizations throughout the city,â
You shot a look down at your boss, eyebrow raised.
âThatâs what youâve been doing in that notebook by your desk?â Reed simply waved your comment off, pointing just down the block, fairly close to the area in which your apartment resided.
â47 of them, to be exact. Including the Puppet Master in the Bowery, the Wizard in Gramercy Park, and Diablo in Washington Heights,â
Everyone on the balcony went quiet for a moment.
âYouâŠbaby-proofed the world,â Ben finally spoke. Sueâs sigh could be heard from the other end of the balcony as she tried to defend her husband.
âItâs a sweet gesture,â
âItâs a little insane,â 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.
âItâs not totally crazy. Heâs trying to protect the things he loves, whatâs most precious to himâŠâ Johnnyâs lips quirked up just slightly. âIâd do it tooâŠIâd do it for you.â
He said it soâŠso 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, heâd do it without a second thought.
âYouâŠyou have to stop saying things like that to me, Johnny,â 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 Johnnyâs face only widened, his hand slipping around from your lower back to your waist, as he gave you a light squeeze.
âStop saying what, the truth?â
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.Â
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 hadnât 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 theyâd put her in the ground. You had cried, he held you, and heâd 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. Heâd 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.
âStuck in your head over there? Come on, itâs dinner time,â
Benâs 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.Â
Johnnyâs 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.
Thatâs 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, feltâŠotherwordly. 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.
âGo inside, donât come out,â
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. Youâd been there as they had dealt with Red Ghost, or even Moleman, but this?Â
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.
âYour planet is now marked for death. Your world will be consumed by the devourer,âÂ
Her voice sent a single chill down the column of your spine. Herbieâs 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 elseâs hand holding yours in this moment.
âHold your loved ones close, and speak the words youâve been afraid to speak. Use this time to rejoice, and celebrate, for your time is short. I herald his beginningâŠI herald your endâŠI herald, Galactus.â
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 womanâs signature left on each of them. Heâd tasked you to the launch team, to prepare Excelsior for launch in T-16 hours.
Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words youâve 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 youâve 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 wasnât 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 closeâŠin 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 Johnnyâs, and a pair of shorts, you didnât 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 youâd 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.
âI couldnât sleep,â 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.
âCome here,â
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 didnât 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.
âYou have to talk to me, baby,â
Talk? The truth was, you didnât 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, youâd 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.
âI-Iâm scared,â
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.
âItâs okay to be,â the gentle tone in his voice washed over you, covering you like a blanket. Itâs exactly how he had spoken to you that day, standing in the rain when you refused to leave your motherâs side, reassuring you he was there. âI donât care what the herald said, Iâm not going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right?â
Of course you knew that. If there was anything you knew for certain in this world, it was that when Johnny Storm said heâd protect you, he meant it. Heâd 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.
âI canât stop thinking about what she said,â 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. âHold your loved ones close, and speak the words youâve been afraid to speakâŠitâs why I came to you.â
A single emotion crossed Johnnyâs 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 Johnnyâs 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.
âYou did come to meâŠwhyâs that?â
âYou know why-â
âI do,â he said it so matter-of-factly, that smirk growing just a tad as he leaned into your personal bubble by just a hair. âThis push and pull, four years of âwill theyâ or âwonât they.â I want to hear you say it, baby.â
âItâs not that easy,â you immediately shook your head, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as Johnny simply watched you. âSaying itâŠmakes it real.â
He scoffed, the sound mixed with laughter, as his head cocked slightly more to the side.
âYou came into my bedroom at 2 in the morningâwearing my shirt, might I addâis that not real enough?â
âWhen youâve spent years trying to ignore how you feel and refusing to say it, itâs not that easy to say,â you desperately tried to explain. âIf I say itâŠthen everything changes.â
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.
âA sexy, naked alien woman came to earth and basically prophesied our demise, darling. If there was ever a time to âchange everythingâ and lay it all on the line, I think itâs now,â
Your heart wanted to hang onto the word darling, but your brain was too stuck on the âsexy, naked alien womanâ 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.
âSexy, naked alien woman, Johnny? Seriously?â
âCome on! She wasâobjectivelyâattractive. You canât deny that!â
It was your turn to scoff, tearing your hands from his in a heartbeat, before spinning on your heel. You felt like an idiotâon the precipice of finally confessing your deepest, darkest secret youâd kept locked away for years, and this is what you got.
âI try to be serious with you, Johnny, and you turn it into a joke once again-â
You didnât 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 finallyâfinallyâkissed you.
The kiss youâd dreamed about for four years, finally yours.
Johnnyâs 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.Â
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 Johnnyâs 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.
âYou canât keep making little noises like that,â 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.
âYour fault,â 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. âIâm trying to be mad at you.â
âBe mad at me later,â 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. âIâm trying to kiss you.â
There was some part of you that wanted to protest himâover what, you werenât even sure at this pointâbut you couldnât. 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.
âYou c-calledâoh godâyou called the alien sexy while I was trying to confess,â 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 thereâhe was always thereâand 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.
âYour confession was four years late, and Iâm impatient,â 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. âIâve been trying to tell you Iâm in love with you for four years now, so please just shut up and let me show you instead. Nowâjump.â
At this point, youâd 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.
Iâm in love with you. Those words repeated like a mantra in your head. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, the worldâs fire boy and hero that they painted like a sex symbol. The âplayboyâ with a new girl all the time, never able to hold down a girlâŠwas 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.
Johnnyâs 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.
âI need to know that youâre sureâŠabout this,â you werenât used to it, the vulnerability in Johnnyâs 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. âBecause if I kiss you again, Iâm not stopping until youâre mine.â
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.
âI was already yours. I always have been,â there was only certainty in your tone as you held his gaze. âSpeak the words youâve been afraid to speakâŠthatâs why I came to you. Because if this is the end of the world, I needed you to know that I love-â
He didnât let you finish your words. His next kiss was anything but gentle.
Messy, spit coating your lips as Johnnyâs 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 couldâyour 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 Johnnyâs 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.
Johnnyâs 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.
âSince the day you walked in, Iâve thought about this,â his voice was raspy, the words barely understood as they were spoken against your skin. âSince the moment Reed introduced you to us.â
âI-I was wearing a lab coat,â you choked on your words as Johnnyâs lips reached your sternum, trailing kissing down your chest, but never where you wanted him. âHardly sexy, Iâd argue.â
âIt is when Iâm picturing you in that coat and your heels, and nothing else,â 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. Johnnyâs 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 couldâve 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.
âIâve dreamed about you under me. Kissing you, tasting you, loving you,â 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.
âIâve thought about you, too,â you relented, divulging every secret you held dear to the man who lavished every inch of you in love and adoration. âIn the kitchen, the lab, in that stupid button up from earlier-â
âI knew you liked that shirt. Wore it just for you,â 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 Johnnyâs head lifted for just a moment to lock his eyes with yours, that familiar smirk on his face, you werenât 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.
âYouâre absolute perfection, you always have been,â 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 Johnnyâs lips against your skin. âJesus Christ, baby, youâre so soaked.â
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.
âAll for you,â 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 Johnnyâs 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. âPleaseâJohnny, please! Please, I need you. Need youâneed you so bad.â
âI got you, baby. I got you. Keep moaning my name like that, and Iâll give you the worldâ
Those whispered words stayed on your lips, lingering, as Johnny left you. His touch wasnât 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 lovedâthe 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 youâd ever met, inside and out.
Johnny didnât 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.
âFucking beautiful, and all mine,â 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. âSweeter than I ever dreamed you could be.â
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.Â
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 Johnnyâs 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.
âLet me hear you, baby,â 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. âWant to hear you.â
âDonât want toâfucking hell, Johnnyâlet the others hear,âÂ
âLet them. Let them hear me love you,â
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 fingersâdragging so deliciously into you, curling up, before dragging out just to the edge of your opening. His mouthâgod, his mouthânever 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.
âJohnnyâbabyâI canât. I canâtâIâm gonna-â
âLet go, darling,â came that growl in his voice again, the speed of his fingers increasing. âI got you baby, let go.â
That coil snapped in seconds after he spoke. The precipice of your orgasm was earth-shattering, like youâd 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 Johnnyâs 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 youâd spent loving him so quietly that you couldnât admit it.
âI might be addicted to you, Johnny Storm,â your words were mumbled into his lips. He laughed so gently, stealing another peck.
âGlad you finally caught up with me, princess, Iâve been addicted since day one,â
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 didnât 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.
Johnnyâs 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.
âJohnny-â
âGod, itâs so hot how eager you are to touch me,â he laughed again, tilting his head to leave a single kiss to the column of your throat. âThis is about you, doll. Save that for next time. It can be a âwelcome home from spaceâ gift for me. A âthanks for saving the worldâ gift, if you will.â
Space.Â
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 werenât 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.
âNo crying, none of that. Just lay back, baby,â
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.
âYou didnât let me say it earlier. So let me say it, for the first time outloud,â you gave him a watery smile, lips quivering as you looked up at him. âI love you, Johnny Storm. Iâve loved you for so long. Iâm sorry it took the world maybe ending for this, that I didnât 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.
âLike you said: youâve always been mine,â
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.
âGodâso tight for me, babyâyou feel like heaven,â
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, Johnnyâs 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 didnât 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.
âOh god, Johnny!â 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. âHoly fuck, w-why werenât we doing this for years?â
âBecause youâve been a stubbornâfuckâlittle tease all these years,â his tongue dragged up the column of your throat, peppering kissing up and down your skin as his cock dragged against your walls. âBent over your workstation in the labâoh godâyou donât know how many times Iâve thought about it. Thought about walking in and taking you right there, making a mess right at your desk.â
âR-Reed would walk in and youâd scar him for life,â
âSounds like a win-win to me,â there was shared laughter, punctuated with a shared moan as his cock dragged right against that spot nestled within you. âAnd try not to talk about my brother-in-law when Iâm fucking you.â
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
âFucking perfect, baby. Fucking made for me,â 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.
âJohnnyâbabyâplease I-Iâm so close-â
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.
âLet go,â 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. âLet go, baby, let go.â
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 Johnnyâs waistâtightlyâso 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 itâs 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 itâs 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 arenât 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 morningâhell, it already didâbut 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 shouldâve happened years ago.
Eventually, Johnny shifted down. His lips trailed down your body in worship, like theyâd done already that night. From your cheek, to your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, and down your lower abdomen.
âCarefulâŠnot sure Iâd survive a round three,â your voice was hoarse, mouth dry. Johnny laughed against your skin, still kissing every inch he could see.
âI donât think I would, either,â
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 didnât 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.
âIs that our song now?â you laughed, even if your heart was clenching at the mere thought. The mere idea of that song belonging to the two of youâthe idea that Johnny Storm belonged to you.
You could feel his smile against your abdomen as he spoke. âIt should be. Itâs accurate. Because I donât ever think Iâll get over the miracle that is youâŠloving me.â
Itâs 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 youâve ever done.
Johnny crawled back up your body, slotting himself onto the bed beside you, before tugging you in. Thereâs no hesitation on your part, simply curling into his side with your head over his chest and arm slung around his waist. Words arenât needed in the silence, not when youâve 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.
Heâs yours. Johnny Storm is yours. Heâs always been yours, you just didnât know it.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hand cradling the back of your head as he said his next words confidently.
âWeâre going to go up there tomorrow, and weâre going to stop this guy. Weâre going to protect this Earth, like weâve sworn to do. But me? Iâm going to do it so I can come home to you, and love you for the rest of my life. I promise,â
He canât promise that, you knew he couldnât. 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, thatâs enough.